#I'm having a bad week and here's what's happened and I am NOT using fine to end a conversation and would appreciate space

[safyresky]

😤😤😤

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Fletchers reaction to foxboy willingly kissing him for the first time

Yan Farmer Rabbit + Fox Hybrid Reader

[Reader has no mentioned gender but they are referred to as wife]

-

"Damn it!"

The knife clatters to the kitchen floor with a dull thud. Chest heaving with each pain breath, you fall to your knees - shirt clutched painfully tight in your claws as wetness drips down your cheeks.

Three weeks... Three weeks you've lived with the farmer and he hasn't asked you to lift a finger. This is it.... isn't it? It's finally happening. You were a such an idiot to think it wouldn't. He's testing you... A trial to see how useful you'll be to him in the long run.

"Hey, Sweetness. Something came up down at the general store. Shouldn't be gone long, but- think you can cut up the potatoes for dinner while I'm out? It's not hard. I'll show you how to do it."

He made it look so easy. Each slice against the cutting board so neat, precise - perfect. Just like him. What does he want from you? Does he actually think you'll make for a good partner? You can't even cut up vegetables to save your own tail- Just what the hell does he want from you?!

"Hun? That you?"

Shit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

You wipe at your eyes with the backs of your palms, scrambling to pick yourself off the floor before he sees you. He can't see you like this- The thunder of his footsteps fills you with a kind of terror you haven't felt since you got locked in that kitchen coop.

"Y/n?"

Your back hits the cupboard wall. Fletcher's large, imposing figure hovers at the door frame. Two steps into the kitchen is all it takes for him to march up to the table. To see your mistakes. Too thick. Too thin. Sliced indiead of cubed like he asked. The farmer takes a breath. He kneels down in front of you, hand perched on the tile a hairline away from your shivering legs.

"Hon-"

"Don't-" You bite. "Just don't..... I missed up. I always do. Why do you even want me here? I can't do anything right... I'm a terrible wife."

"Hey!-" Fletcher grips your shoulder, tugging you against his chest. "Don't you ever, ever talk about yourself like that. You're fine. It's okay. All you need is a little practice. Just calm down."

Liar- He's a fucking liar. "What if I don't get better with practice?! What if all I ever am to you is dead weight?"

Fletcher kisses the top of your head, voice small - crushed by the sounds of your sobs against his chest. "That's fine with me too, Sweetheart.... That's fine with me too. I didn't bring you here because I wanted a maid. I just wanted you. That's all I have ever wanted since I laid eyes on you. I love you- Always have, always will."

His hold on you lessens as your whines and sniffles crawl to a still. Your puffy eyes cross his as you lift your head from his chest. He tries to smile - delicately raising his enormous paw to the fuzzy flesh of your cheek. He rests his nose against yours - just like he always did when he was trying to comfort you or feel a connection, lips inches from yours.

"Whether you can dice up a thousand potatoes or not at all. Even if you make a mess of everything you touch. I'll always be here for you no matter what. I'll always love you - no matter what."

Your arms creep up to his neck, the space between you null as your lips ghost over his. Fletcher stiffens, unsure - fearful of scaring you off now if he takes the dive for you. And so you take it-

The kiss is hesitant. Gentle as the hand stroking at your back, washing away any doubts left of his conviction towards you. Tear drops fall at your skin, but you have none more to cry. Is he?... You pull away as the droplets drip from Fletcher's chin into his already stained tee.

"My bad." The farmer barks out a dry chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the flow. "Now's not the time to get emotional, but I just- I'm so glad to have you here. With me."

"I know... I'm glad to be here too now, but um... Fetch?"

"Yeah?"

Your ears lay flat against your skull as your stomach whines in hunger. "Can we... finish up with dinner now?"

The laugh Fletcher bellows is far less restrained. "Sure. What kind of man would I be if I let my wife starve? I'll tell you some more tricks will we're at it. You'll be a head chef in no time, sweetheart.... And even if you aren't - I'll cherish you all the same."

[raphael-angele]

Nico Protection Squad

WARNING: Use of hateful slur

Nico, coming home from school with Percy: Hey, Reyna. Hey, Jason.

Reyna: Hey, Nico.

Jason: Hey, Buddy

Percy: Hey, guys. Uh, Nico, why don't you go to your room and rest. We need to talk.

Nico: Mkay. *leaves*

Percy: Make sure to do your homework, alright?

Nici: Uh huh!

Reyna: What happened?

Jason: Is he okay?

Percy: ...we need to call the team

---Later---

At one of their rooms:

Percy: Good day, everyone. I know it's late and it's unusual for me to call a meeting at this time but this is an emergency

Annabeth: But first, an attendance check. Annabeth? Here. Bianca?

Hazel: Oh, she comes back next week

Annabeth: Ok. Jason? Here. Thalia? Here. Percy? Here. Hazel? Here. Piper? Here. Reyna? Here. Will? Here. Grover? Here. Leo? Here. Frank? Here. And Mr. D? Present! Ok, that should be everyone. Take it away Percy

Percy, clearing his throat: Okay, I need you guys to swear that you will not go berserk right after this and you will remain seated until we have a plan.

Everyone:

Percy: So, I was picking up Nico from class. On the drive back, he...

Hazel: He what?

Percy: He...asked me what a faggot was.

Everyone:

Thalia: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!

Will: Is he okay?!

Hazel: Where did he even learn that from?!

Jason: Did someone call him that?!?!?

Reyna: WHO THE HELL WOULD CALL HIM THAT?!?!?

Leo: Every single douchebag in school, of course!

Piper: You think they'd learn their lesson after the first time

Percy: *gavels* Order! Order!

Grover: I think we're all missing the point here. How's Nico doing?

Percy: He's fine. I asked him where he knew the word from. He said someone was calling him that, a couple of students a year above him apparently.

Frank: What happened then?

Percy: I asked him if he knew their names. He didn't and he asked me again what it meant.

Will: What did you say?

Percy: I didn't answer. There was a McDonalds right there and I went for it. He took the bait and has been quiet for the whole car ride.

Grover: So...what do we do?

Leo: OH! *raises his hand* WE'LL SET THEIR LOCKERS ON FIRE!

Thalia: I think what Grover meant was what do we do for now? We don't know these guys, and we don't know how much it's affecting Nico.

Reyna: Thalia's right. We need to have a plan to protect Nico and catch these bastards.

Annabeth: Percy and I already thought about it.

Percy: Introducing the Pick up/Drop off Nico Chart. We each get a schedule of when to pick him up, and when to drop him off

Annabeth: And to make sure we catch these guys, we think it would be best to see Nico off to his classrooms or at least the building.

Thalia, raising her hand: Uhm-

Percy: Don't worry. We adjusted it for times you guys are away. Which is why we used magnets to represent us. See? I'm the water droplet, Annabeth's the owl, Grover's the goat, Leo's the fire, you're the tree, Hazel's the-

Annabeth: They get it, Percy. All in favor of the chart say aye

Everyone, raises their hand: Aye!

Leo: So how are we gonna get back at these guys?

Jason: We could tell them off to the dean

Percy: You'd suggest that, wouldn't you, Mr. Goody Two Shoes?

Piper: I can charmspeak them to do embarassing stuff

Percy: Eh, we need something more

Annabeth: I'm writing that one down, it sounds funny

Mr D.: I am the God of Insanity. I can just drive them crazy.

Annabeth: Mr. D, no.

Percy: Not a bad idea though. I'm writing it down.

Will: Wait. I think I figured out another problem

Percy: What is it, Will?

Will: Who tells Bianca?

Everyone:

Percy: ...all in favor of keeping this a secret from Bianca, say aye?

Everyone, terrified: Aye!

Will: Whu- Percy, no. Remember that time you didn't tell her about how you accidentally destoryed Nico's mythomagic cards and made him sad for nearly a month?

Percy: *shivers* I still get nightmares from that.

Annabeth: Fine. Who tells her?

Everyone: *looks at Reyna and Thalia*

Reyna: No

Thalia: Absolutely not.

Mr. D: Hang on. If Bianca is so terrifying, why not just give the guys to her?

Percy: Mr. D, although that's a tempting plan, there is no telling what Bianca will do to those guys if we let her get near them.

Mr. D: She can't be THAT scary.

Everyone: Yes, she can.

Percy: With what she did to me? She might as well have sent me to Tartarus!

Frank: Gods, what did she do to him?

Annabeth: She took away all the blue in our apartment and replaced them with orange.

Percy: It took a month before she put them back! There was no blue food for a month!

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 7

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: seven

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the REAL karate kid

good afternoon losers

and y/n <3

the imposter

hey

willybum

good afternoon you dumbass

and hello to you too y/n

the REAL karate kid

rude

how are you y/n?

the imposter

eh i'm doing fine i guess

stairway

is everything alright

the imposter

i got fired from work today 😔

lotte

what happened?

if you don't mind me asking

the imposter

so i told ya what i do for work yeah?

well i've worked for this company for the past

whole year as their main solo media manager

and then my boss found out that his good old

friend's son was looking for a job and he's also

a photographer and social media manager so he

decided to fire me and hire him instead to

keep his relationship strong with his old friend

the REAL karate kid

that really sucks

your boss sounds like a terrible person

the imposter

yeah he was a really difficult person

i am kinda glad tho ngl

i don't have to see his annoying face ever again

but back to job hunting again 😔

neev

if it makes you feel better

leah got head-shotted in the head

by lessi during training

the imposter

i really hope someone got proof of it

stairway

i gotcha

maya

HELP

lotte

got K.O-ed lol

willybum

this isn't funny

i got a full on concussion

i'll get you back russo

the REAL karate kid

not my fault you're a terrible defender 🤷‍♀️

willybum

EXCUSE ME?!

the imposter

dam

them calves 😮‍💨

has anyone ever asked you

to step on them?

neev

um y/n is there something you'd

like to share with the group ...

willybum

weirdly enough yeah

i have been asked that

elton

it was actually just y/n asking

on a secret account

the imposter

don't expose me like that 😩

meado

every time i open this group chat

i get deeply concerned for you all again

i don't even know who y/n is and i feel like

i should be concerned about her as well

the imposter

woah

meado

i thought we were getting along well 😔

stairway

well if meado is concerned then

i guess she's offering to pay for

our therapy so let's go gang

the imposter

also

why do guys always train and

play football together?

elton

oh you know

we just like to play football together at times

stairway

yeah

it's fun

the imposter

okay ....

who am i to judge

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE LION KING SQUAD

russo

uh

so guys

i have done something

toone

oh no

that is never a good sign

le tissier

okay i'm intrigued

this is gonna be bad

wubben-moy

the fact that she's using the group chat

without y/n is not a good sign

stanway

is she about to introduce her new wife

to us or something? did you like run away

and get married in vegas or something?

charles

we literally saw her yesterday georgia

so if she had then that would be

insanely impressive

toone

is that why you weren't at training today?

greenwood

ella looked very lost today

it was worrying

russo

yeah

i ran away with y/n and we got married

toone

HUH

stanway

WHAT

charles

EXCUSE ME

russo

OF COURSE NOT YOU IDIOTS

not yet anyway 😏

but back to the point

leah was also in on this

bright

oh like that's any better

williamson

excuse me??

wubben-moy

here we go

russo

okay

so

you know how y/n's looking for a job yeah?

well leah and i thought we'd put in a

good word for her in our media admin so

that you know .... maybe she can get

offered a job here and you know we can

actually meet her and get to know her irl ....

stanway

that is actually ....

the most decent idea i've heard from ya

charles

yeah fr

hemp

oh my god y'all are such simps

stanway

shut up

toone

i do wonder when y/n will find out about

who we are or if she ever will

charles

nah she's got to find out soon with

the euros starting next week?

williamson

i reckon we tell her after the euros

wubben-moy

well that shall be eventful

part eight here

[devoutekuna]

Cooking with him.

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He can cook but chooses not to, why would he cook if he has a personal chef to himself. Stood in the kitchen as he searched for some fruit, daughter tracing the markings he had on his legs. "Daddy lets cook for mama" the thought of spending time with her father was the only reason she wanted to cook. "No" a straight no, she knew that he'd need some convincing though.

"But, I've seen mummy and Uraume cook, I can do it!" Grabbing onto his leg as he tried to walk off, acting as if she was too heavy to kick off. "No you can't! Your incapable of cooking" Looking down at the pink haired girl staring so profusely up at him, doing her puppy eyes which would win anyone over.

Cutting up a few onions from the dish, sat ontop of the counter as she placed the onion in her lap, knife inches away from her thigh. "Don't do that, it's stupid" putting the onion and knife on the table so that he could place her on the stool. "Don't be stupid" stood right beside her as she cut it up, it was going so painfully slow,he was starting to get tired especially since she had two more to go. Having the dismantle technique, of course he's gonna use it to his advantage, throwing the onion up in the air as it sliced, leaving diced cubes along the counter top. "Awe, you got it all over the counter daddy" trying to brush the vegetable into a pile. "Shut up, you were going to slow."

Nanami-

An expert as he cooks most nights, especially when your too tired to prepare meals for the week, it was a simple task to him. "Lemme help you papa!" Hands making it onto the counter as he kneaded the dough, eyes sticking up from behind the counter. Glancing down and the blonde realising she was on a stool, no wonder she got so tall, already got her hair tied back into a ponytail and apron on. "I'm almost done darling" he felt a bit bad but he was so busy so he wanted to finish this quickly.

"Please!" Her crys, only convincing him that she should help him, all he had to do was cook the rice after washing it and cook the chicken. "I mean, you can do the rice?" He didn't trust her much with food since he knew that she was just a toddler and would make a mess.

"Uh oh" seeing the rice poured down the drain, all of it in the sink rather than the bowl. Atleast half of it going through the drain pipe already. "What happened here?" It was bound to happen, he tried not to act annoyed but he definitely was.

Gojo-

He doesn't know anything about cooking since he rarely cooked for himself, if he did it would just be a precooked meal.

"Right, how small am I cutting this?" Glancing at you for some guidance here, a look of distraught and confusion on his face as she saw what he would be cutting up next. He was tasked with all the vegetables since you thought it would be easier for him rather than the meat which you tasked your son with. "Dice it Satoru" looking over his shoulder as you inspected how small it should be.

"Hurry up! Mum says the vegetables go in before the chicken!" He clearly took his father's personality when it came to patience. "I'm trying my best here!" Though he says that he's good at everything, he was horrible when it came to food. Grabbing another knife from the drawer as you helped him out, you were hungry and wanted food already.

Geto-

He was smart about it, giving her an easy task like stirring the pot, somehow she messed that up, hearing the clutter of a pot hitting the floor, body in the fetal position as she looked at the mess. "Uh oh" the sound of his daughter's voice made him respond quickly, hands on his hips as he scanned the mess on the ground, food spilled all over the floor, boiling water all over his new tiles too. "Sorry papa" feeling a bit bad for the mess. "It's fine" it clearly wasn't as that was one of the main dishes. "As long as you aren't hurt then we're good" nodding her head in response.

Toji-

"Your lucky I can't find my wallet" stuck cutting up some potatoes into long rectangular shapes. His daughter clearly was enjoying this, pouring a bottle full of oil into the pan. "No! That's too much baby" taking the bottle from her hands as she giggled, watching as the oil started to splatter up into his face, throwing a lid onto the pan.

"Turn it down!" Shouting at him, she had seen you do this multiple times, so she acted like the boss when it came to cooking. "It's on the lowest heat!" Going back to the cutting of the potatoes. "Hurry up daddy!" Slapping his leg as she jumped up and down, it was her first time being allowed in the kitchen whilst someone was cooking, let alone helping them.

It was a few minutes after he poured the potatoes into the pan, he didn't know anything about making chips so it was a new experience for him. "You took too long! Mummy woke up" she wanted to surprise you with her cooking skills, making you a plate of chips before you woke up.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

mother. enemies with benefits with angst, mother🙏🙏 I am starving in this harsh winter, mother 😔😔😔

"Your mission," the villain murmured. "How was it?"

"Is that a thing we do now? Asking personal questions?"

"It's work. And we are work, too."

The hero didn't really know what to respond to that, so they shrugged and avoided the villain's gaze at all costs. It was kind of pathetic that the villain was the first person they visited after their three months of absence. Logically, the villain must have assumed that the hero was here to sleep with them.

In truth, the hero wasn't sure if they could even do that. They could barely walk.

"So, how was it?" the villain asked. They tilted their head curiously and the hero didn't know how to respond to that either. The hero counted themselves lucky that the only wounds they carried around with them were bruises and a few cracked ribs.

"It was fine," they said. They took a sip of coffee, ignoring how their face was heating up. "It was alright."

"That bad?"

"No, it was fine, really," the hero answered. The villain's apartment was as the hero remembered. Classy. Clean.

Maybe the hero was just sick of living in their own cramped space and coming home to trash and dust, too exhausted to clean and take care of it. Most of the time the hero blamed work - no hero had truly time to take care of their own place after all, right?

But deep down they knew they were the problem. They were the person who had let the decay happen.

"Still beating yourself up?"

"Still too curious for your own good?"

The villain gave them a hortative look and the hero backed down immediately.

"Sorry, I..." An empty laugh. "I'm really on edge, huh?"

They guessed the last three months weren't as easy to forget as they wanted. They had lost more people during the mission than they should have. It was an excruciating feeling. Something they would never get used to.

"You don't say." The villain smiled softly and stood up. They reached for the hero's wrist and the hero could feel their insides melt. Touching them again after three months...it felt like a reward after weeks of uncertainty and violence.

It was heaven.

"If you are struggling with-"

"Really, I can deal with it, I promise," the hero said. They finally looked up at their nemesis. At those hauntingly beautiful eyes. Those soft fingers. They would dream about them.

They would dream about the villain every now and then. They would think about them.

It was quite strange to the hero. They were thinking about them a little too much, they figured.

"Then why are you here?" the villain said. Their hand was still on the hero's.

"Hm?" The hero needed a second to stomach that question.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well..." Another empty laugh. "We...uh, you know. We hook up sometimes. That's what we do, so...uh..."

"You're not here to have sex with me," the villain replied. They pulled their hand away and the hero could have cursed. They knew it was stupid to feel entitled to it.

And they didn't, they truly didn't feel entitled. But desperate? The hero was definitely desperate.

"What do you mean? Did I-" They took in a deep breath.

"I meant what I said. You're not here to have sex with me. You don't like morning sex, you can barely move and you probably wouldn't survive a round, no matter what position. And you know that. So, why are you here?" The hero stared at them with an open mouth but gathered themselves quickly. Swallowed, looked at the coffee, then back at the villain. It didn't feel fair how well the villain could read them. It didn't feel fair how helpless the hero felt either.

"I just...I don't know."

"You know I can't give you the comfort you want," the villain whispered. This time, it was them who didn't meet the other's eyes. "We agreed on specific terms and...everything on an emotional level..."

"I know," the hero whispered. Hell, it was them who had come up with the whole shit. It was the hero who had argued that emotions were leading to complications. It was them who had insisted that this was physical. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Usually I would just break the rules and...well, you know. I would listen to you, I would hold you and...yeah. But I am kind of seeing someone."

But I am kind of seeing someone.

The hero's eyes widened.

It felt like a punch to the throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know, I..." The tears were rising. They could feel the pain in their nose, they could feel that horrible feeling in the back of their throat.

"As long as it's not serious, we can still sleep with each other, but we can't afford falling in love. I really like them."

And then the hero got angry.

Their insides started to boil. They wanted to scream or cry, they wanted to punch the wall and destroy something, anything.

They felt replaced, they felt miserable. Maybe they had come here for comfort or kindness, maybe they had come here because they had actually missed the villain but this? This was cruel - it was a bad joke that kept on going.

These last three months, the thought of the villain was the only thing that had kept them going, the one and only thing the hero had wanted.

But they swallowed it, swallowed their anger and the tears.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yes." The hero hid their shaking hands under the table.

"You look a little pale," the villain said. They didn't seem very happy about any of this.

"Could I just use your bathroom for a second?"

"Of course."

And there, the hero threw up, gripping the toilet seat with trembling hands and tears blurring their vision.

[eoieopda]

FINE I'M HERE TO REQUEST PART 3!!! In which Chan better really GET that promotion!!!!!!! Contract signed, payroll amended!!!!!

You can make it angsty if you like, AS LONG AS you promise there will be a happy ending (in this part or........ Another 👀)

the one with chan and the promotion (iii)

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free. now, being free is the last thing he wants.

part i. part ii.

pairing: bang chan x reader au: fuck buddies to lovers, hurt/comfort type: drabble (angst, fluff) rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my content. wc: 3.1k cw: mad!chan makes a brief appearance but otherwise remains the best boy; gn!reader (no gendered language used); reader may or may not show some degree of emotional availability (gasp!); due to the nature of their relationship, sex is referenced but not actually depicted; very briefly/incompletely edited, oops. a/n: i love you completely and am so fucking sorry it took four (4) months for me to finish this 😵‍💫 i have an epilogue i can offer in penance, if you want it! everyone else, please read the first two parts before reading this!

Chan may be an idiot, but at least he’s self-aware.

He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up; to expect that things would change quickly between you, if at all. Even though he saw the letdown coming from a kilometer away, he didn’t do a thing to brace himself for it. It’s his fault, he knows, for exaggerating his place in your life — but that doesn’t make the disappointment bruise any less when the week after your wisdom teeth removal flies by in radio silence.

The lack of conversation isn’t for lack of trying. As he scrolls through your half-vacant text thread now, Chan feels all his efforts staring back at him. All those attempted check-ins marked delivered but not well-received. Swings and misses.

Prior to sending each one of them, he spent minutes upon minutes agonizing over the tone — and the use of emojis — and the possible implications of the proposed emojis — and the fear that he’d just come off clingy, not invested. Reading the finished versions back now, he can recall with perfect accuracy the drafts he typed out and immediately, feverishly deleted. Considering the way they litter his brain, there may as well be a trail of crumpled-up notes in all that metadata.

Does it make Chan cringe to look back and watch himself flatline? Absolutely.

Does that stop him from salting his own wounds? Nope. It never has and likely never will.

Maybe, he figures, he’ll spot where he went wrong and find a way to un-dig this ditch he’s seemingly made.

[Sent 2024/7/23, 15:22] Just got home. Have you fallen back asleep already? Lol 

Naver says your swelling might be kind of bad tomorrow. Do you need ice packs? I have the gel kind that you can mold. Might be more comfortable than a bag of ice cubes 🤔 Lmk!

[Sent 2024/7/25, 08:03] Hi, Hamtori 🐹 How are your cheeks?

I made too much gamjaguk again. I can drop some off if

[Sent 2024/7/26, 17:49] Graduate to solid foods yet?

I hope the antibiotics aren’t making your stomach upset

DON’T LAUGH but I made you a super chill Spotify playlist with healing vibes to

Idk if you remember, but I promised to take you out for pork belly next week. If you’re up for it, are you free on

I miss y

[Sent 2024/7/29, 00:16] Hey

Or maybe, he thinks, he’ll just beat his head against his bedroom wall instead; and eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like to be yours for the day, rather than a night.

Four more days pass without a word from you. Under normal circumstances, one of you would’ve invited the other over at least twice in the eleven days since your dental appointment. No matter how infrequently the two of you chatted outside of your recurrent trysts, neither one of you has ever gone this long without summoning the other.

Something is wrong.

At this point, Chan sees two explanations for the way you’ve fallen completely off the grid: you’ve either succumbed to some tragic, post-op. complication and died, or he’s irreparably fucked something up with you without knowing how or when he misstepped. Neither one of those is an outcome he’s willing to accept. 

The voice in his head nags him so forcefully and consistently that his body eventually gives in. Undeterred by his better judgment, Chan lets it guide him up, out, and onward until he winds up on the sidewalk outside his building.

On the walk to your apartment, he mulls over the foreseeable consequences of the actions he’s already set in motion. It’s certifiably insane to pop in you like this, and once again, he only sees two options: you’ll slam the door in his face, or he’ll confirm once and for all that you’ve left this mortal coil. Bad on all counts, really, but anything is better than nothing.

His timing, as it turns out, couldn’t be better. Right as he lands at the front door, when he needs to think of a way to get in without buzzing you, a neighbor he’s seen once or twice before opens it to leave. Politely, they hold it open for him, likely mistaking him for someone with any right to be there — someone whose primary to you actually makes sense. Chan thanks them with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile before slipping through the opening.

As the elevator ascends, his fingers move of their own accord, anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the stainless steel wall he leans against. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. There’s a flash of something else there, too, though. Something even more nerve-wracking than all his catastrophizing; something that makes his stomach flip.

Hope.

“Oi, none of that,” he mutters to himself.

It doesn’t work. When Chan approaches the doors in the second before they open, he makes eye contact with his reflection and sees that easy, ill-advised smile creeping up on him.

As he exits that giant metal box, he shakes his head with an anxious laugh. If he’s this embarrassed by himself when he’s alone, the chances of him living through the way you’re about to look at him are…

Well…

Abysmal.

But that doesn’t stop him from powering his way down the hall towards your door. Coincidentally, neither does the fact that he doesn’t have a plan for what he’ll do when he reaches it.

Figuring knocking is as good a start as any, that’s precisely what Chan does, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to appear more nonchalant. 

Then, he waits.

And then, he waits some more.

After thirty seconds pass without a response, Chan knocks again, carefully balancing the weight of his fist against it so the sound of it isn’t too assertive — or too eager — or too desperate — or —

“Left about an hour ago,” a voice says from a few meters away.

Chan turns towards the sound. Several units down, an old woman’s head pokes out of an open doorway. He can’t tell if she’s intentionally frowning at him or if it’s the weight of her jowls pulling the corners of her mouth down. Either way, it feels bad.

Running an anxious hand over the back of his increasingly warm neck, he coughs, “Oh?”

The ajumma clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You young people never put those cell phones down and yet you still wind up like this.” She works herself up further; her nostrils flare as she rambles, “In my day, it was rude to show up unannounced. We called ahead, and when we called ahead, people were there to answer the door.”

Chan isn’t above arguing with some personified wrinkle, but he likes to think you would be. Even though you’re not here to witness it, it feels important to be the person you might like him to be. 

So, he bites his tongue. 

He nods yet again with a polite smile.

He turns on his heels.

And when he shuffles back towards the elevator, there’s a hell of a lot less of a spring in his step.

Two days go by after Chan’s little fieldtrip. Just like the previous several, they slip away quietly. This time, however, he doesn’t check-in — doesn’t type out his thoughts just to immediately erase them; doesn’t stare at his phone and wait to prove it to himself that it won’t chime.

Lesson learned, really.

It was a bad idea to bet the house on maybes. He knew it on the front end and still chose optimism; now, it serves him right. Played stupid games and won stupid prizes, as you like to say. If only he could stop thinking about what you like to say and instead focus on the fact that you haven’t said anything at all.

Chan grits his teeth and tries hard to focus on the game lighting up his monitor. Whatever Yongbok talked him into playing doesn’t make him feel any better about fumbling you — in fact, it’s proving to be yet another thing he’s terrible at — but it’s sufficiently distracting to have his friends swearing each other up and down in their Discord voice channel.

Actually, he stands corrected. This is also terrible, albeit a different flavor of garbage than his hopeless mooning over you.

Maybe radio silence is better.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes against the surface of his desk — three long taps bookended by three short ones. 

Before Chan reaches for it, he lets the poetry of it all sink in. SOS, his phone declares whenever you text him. Originally, although he’ll never fucking tell you so, he chose that text tone because hearing from you salvaged his day, every time. Now, it reminds him that he’s in over his head with no life preserver in sight.

Not bad, he thinks. He should write that bit down in the notebook of lyrics he ruminates over but never puts to music, let alone shares.

The lack of action on his part prompts his phone to vibrate again for emphasis. 

SOS!

Beaming white light bores into his retinas when he finally opens his inbox, and Chan refuses to think about the million times you’ve told him to switch to dark mode or the infinitely-brighter shit he’s been roasting under since he started this game several hours back. All he thinks about instead is the first grey text in an ocean of blue:

[2024/8/04, 23:37] you up?

You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly when you crack open the door and find Chan standing on your doorstep with his hood up and hands in his pockets. Outside the windows behind you, the downpour he just trudged through continues to dampen his mood.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you lilt, like nothing has changed at all.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?  

Chan lifts his chin slightly as some half-assed nod to let you know that his ears work, if nothing else. Either missing his stony expression or ignoring it, you simply open the door wider, beckoning him to follow you with a gentle wave of your free hand.

He wants so badly to smile back at you as easily as you smile at him — really, he does, but fuck, he can’t make his face do anything but harden.

Once he toes off his shoes, he expects you to lead him straight to your room — or your couch — or any of the other various services the pair of you have misappropriated along the way. You don’t, though. With your lips pensively pursed, you shuffle a bit closer; and as soon as you can reach him properly, you raise both of your hands. One flattens against his now rain-soaked sweatshirt; the other goes for his zipper, tugging gently until there’s nothing left to hold him together.

Carefully, Chan eyes you; watches while you slip the fabric off his shoulders, as if it isn’t twice as heavy as it was when he put it on. Like it’s easy, you turn away, open the nearby closet, and toss that wet mess into the top-half of your standing washer-dryer.

“I think…” Your tiny, upward curve returns while your sentence peters out. Softly, you reach up and brush a damp curl off his forehead. “An umbrella would be a worthwhile investment.”

He should join in on the bit. He should banter right back. He should smile, too — for fuck’s sake — because you’re finally right here. You’re talking to him within touching distance, radiating warmth he wants to live in, and he should touch you the way you want to be touched — the way you summoned him here to touch you.

He should do a lot of things, none of which include snapping at you, and yet —

“Why the hell am I here?”

It catches you both off-guard. You, because Chan has never once spoken to you any other way but kindly. Him, because you don’t actually look all that surprised by the sentiment, even if the presentation isn’t what you expected.

Somehow, that’s the thing that stings the most; not the way your face falls at his gruffness but the inkling you must have had before you asked him over that things between you aren’t sitting right at all.

Chan doesn’t get a response, so he asks another way: “Did you notice all of those unanswered texts when you sent yours, or did you ignore them all over again?”

It dawns on you — and him too, if he’s being honest — that you’ve still got your hands resting delicately on his chest. You reel your arms back in and cross them, not defiantly but diminutively. You shrink right in front of him; and regret hits him like a fist to the side of his skull.

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” Your head lowers while you do your best to look anywhere else.

That’s —

“Bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s really not hard to keep up a conversation, especially when someone is just asking how you’re feeling.” Instantly he feels terrible for snapping. Softening his tone slightly, he sighs, “I know you know how.”

You look up at him without tilting your head much at all. Peering over that brick wall of yours, he figures. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t know.”

The face he pulls must convey what he’s thinking: Are you fucking kidding me? But you’re quick to prevent him from jumping to any further-out conclusions, amending, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Chan opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. It’s rare for you to open up to the extent you might be about to; and it’s a miracle that you might be willing to now, given the fact that he’s come at you blindly at 160 kilometers per hour.

“I don’t like needing people.” 

Your attention is drawn to your fidgeting fingers and the drawstring of the sweatpants they occupy themselves with. The overwhelming urge he feels to grab them, to hold them still, goes ignored and makes his own hands tense. He focuses hard on your face instead; the crease between your eyebrows while you plot out your next steps.

“I didn’t want to need you, but then I did need you — and you just… you came, no questions asked.” You laugh, either despite your visible discomfort or because of it. “Held my hand and all that, didn’t just drop me on the curb and say, hit me up when you’re down again.”

Chan feels as if he’s been punched, although it’s not offense he takes from your statement. Judging by that flicker of hurt in your eyes, the expectation you had wasn’t for him, personally. It was history. 

You shift where you stand from one foot to another, like that weight on your shoulders is changing. He doesn’t know if it’s getting heavier or lighter until you finally lift your chin to look at him squarely. 

“It scared the shit out of me, honestly — how easy you are to need — so, I did what I always do: I bailed.” Sighing, you finally seem to register how much anxiety you’re holding in your hands. You drop it, then drop them to your sides. “But I think I’ve figured it out.”

You smile slightly, and suddenly, he feels lighter. “I’ve been conflating them, but they’re completely different things, aren’t they?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. Truly, he’s at a loss. He can’t predict which direction you’re about to turn in. Seeming to sense this, you answer his unasked question, “Wanting to need you and wanting you.”

While this makes his brain pause, his body moves. Cautiously, he steps forward and watches you counter him until your back is flush against the wall behind you. 

“Can I have a definition, then, please?” He pleads, voice low, while his hands gently claim your hips. “Because I thought it was want behind the booty call that brought me here, and I don’t want to find myself on a completely different page again.”

You link your arms around his neck and eye him carefully. “It was,” you acknowledge with a small nod. “Different kind, though — a shallow one.”

Chan finds his mouth curving up at the corner, all on its own. His gaze drops from yours to your lips, then back again. It’d be so easy to kiss you now, but he can’t unless he gets some sort of confirmation. “We’re in the deep end now, then?”

“Moving that way, at least. I spook easily, though…” You’d probably love nothing more than to look away when you admit that bit out loud, but to your credit, you don’t. Instead, you run your fingernails softly through the hair at his nape. “I’m not entitled to any more of your patience, but would you be willing to take it one day at a time?”

Chan wishes that he’d at least pretended to consider this. He doubts you’ve ever had a vision of him as someone nonchalant — in fact, he’s the poster boy for chalance in whichever reality that word exists — but it would’ve been infinitely cooler of him not to respond immediately and wholeheartedly with a rushed sigh, “Fuckin’ right, I am,” before leaning in to kiss you absolutely stupid.

Whatever gratification he can’t find by licking into the mouth you open eagerly for him, he finds in the way you keen when he presses his body more fully against yours. The payoff is even better when he stops short, divorcing your respective lips entirely.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he announces, breathless. His grin widens; meanwhile, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “No! Not, like, never — I don’t have that kind of resolve — but not tonight.”

The sudden switch makes you dizzy. Thankfully, it makes you laugh, too. 

“Don’t tell me you just want to enjoy my company,” you warn. You attempt to say it earnestly, but a smile cracks you wide open. “I’m still too prone to bolt when I hear cute shit like that.”

Chan shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to plant yourself on that couch —” He pulls his right hand off your left hip and gestures blindly over his shoulder. “I’m also telling you that I am getting takeout.”

You narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. “I wonder what you could possibly be ordering.”

“Belated pork belly is better than no pork belly.” He narrows his eyes to mirror hours, then kisses you quickly, murmuring, “One for the road,” against your lips.

Then, he dashes off towards your front door. As he goes, he just barely catches you nagging him through your laughter:

“If you’re not going to wait for your sweatshirt, can you at least take an umbrella?”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz taglist. multi taglist. navigation.

due to tumblr being ass with tags lately, i’m going to be tagging people in the comments for the time being!

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - In Which None of You Should be Surprised by a MAJOR Upset in the Standings

Sorry this is so late. I had a pretty epic series of delays landing me at NRT for like 18 hours or something ridiculous. To be fair there are much worse airports to be stranded at.

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

June 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) ep 1 of 12 - Fuck all ya'all if you thought I had taste. MeenPing are topping this damn list because... have you any idea how LONG I have been waiting for a real sports centered BL starring at least one boy who actually played the flipping sport? My whole damn life. You ready for me to go into euphoric splooges all over your screens? I don't think you are. SUFFER! And now some splooging:

It’s off to a great start. Thank you, Rebound, for being exactly what I wanted. By which I mean Meen has his shirt off literally in the first two minutes of the show. Also it’s a bit of a childhood sweethearts reunion romance. There’s nothing wrong with this beginning. Fantastic. For a change, I even enjoy the intro music. Golf is directing MeenPing this time, so maybe something magical will happen. Frank is aging so pretty!!! How nice for all of us. Even the bb play is good. It’s a proper sports BL. I’m so damn happy right now. 

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 9 of 12 - I’m so tired of Ter, but everything else was lovely. Also they are SUCH boyfriends. 

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 3 of 12 - They are so cute in these roles. I don’t know why, I just like their vibe better here than in the previous show. (And I really enjoyed Big Dragon at the start.) This show is a lot more classic romance and kind of pat because of that. I do hope the ingénue character gets some kind of additional development and talent. But even if it stays mundane, these two have the chemistry to carry it. So I suspect I’ll keep enjoying it regardless. I am mildly intrigued by the spice of the PNR element, so I hope they run with that a bit more. I suspect they will have to, to extend the plot for 12 eps.

My Stand-In (Fri iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - Ah Ming... famous last words. This one just makes me sigh a lot and whimper sadly. I don’t know where they’re going with this plot or how they’re gonna resolve it. Joe finally being the asshole Ming deserves is a lot of fun though (double entendre intended). I’m scared but it did make me cry... a lot. (That's fine, I'm a sap.)  

Imma say this because no one else has. Wardrobe is unilaterally terrible in this show. I mean Thailand is notoriously bad in general but this show, nash.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 13 of 16 - They are so fucking adorable. And so flirty! Also a crying kiss? My favorite! Chain’s little moment of "Cupid shoot thyself" was epic. ("Physician heal thyself" but for the BL world?) Honestly, I could watch a whole show about these two...

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - How does Gun still look like he’s just out of high school? Madness. Does the set for the print shop that he’s working in at the beginning remind anybody else of Mork’s dad’s place in ‘Cause He’s My Boy? I swear GMMTV has about 3 sets they rotate through.

To be brutally honest, I was not looking forward to the show at all. No idea why. OffGun aren’t my most favorite OG pair, but I respect them for their longevity, optics, acting shops, and enduring brand. Maybe I just needed more of a gap from Cooking Crush?

Whatever, I was absolutely riveted by this first episode. I’m enjoying The Trainee a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 4 of 12 - This version did the "clear up of the inciting miscommunication" in such a sweet achey way. Frankly that "ache of first love" really plays to G4's strengths as a pair. This was a good ep and I’m now starting to enjoy this one for its own sake and get some distance from the JBL version. It's just there is A LOT of good stuff coming out of Thailand right now.

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - I was inspired to write a Shakespearean style sonnet in this week's trash watch. Mame seems to believe that no character can have depth without suffering. And I found this episode both boring and rushed at the same time. Trash watch here. (This week's trash watch also VERY delayed.)

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - It’s eminently missable... so I missed it this week in order to get this weekly update out. Next week will be a two in one. 

Only Boo! (Sun YT) ep 12fin - Okay, that’s it, I guess?

Summary:

An idol romance about a sunshine boy who dances good and wants to be a star and a reserved food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks, grumpy/sunshine pair who fall in love but, of course, to be an idol baby boy can't date. It wasn’t particularly bad, it wasn’t particularly good either. 7/10

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) Ep 1 of 10 - A new series adaptation of beloved yaoi I Hear the Sunspot (first adaptation was feature film Silhouette of Your Voice 2017).

I expected the soundscapes in this one to be fantastic, but I didn’t expect the filming to be something special too. But it really is. I’m not gonna lie, I'm nervous about this show because I love the manga and was disappointed by the film, but we were off to a really good start. First names already? So cute. I love them.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Shy awkward Taishin goes to a Tokyo university in order to reunite with Takara, a stranger who consoled him over the loss of a parrot the year prior. He finally gets a chance to express his gratitude but is given the cold shoulder. (My thoughts this weekend's round up)

I can't believe Japan is holding it down for the non Thai BL. I mean to say.... JAPAN!!! What alt reality are we living in? It being Japan, I'm scared of the ending.

It's airing but...

Blue Boys is still going on and I'm still enjoying it (despite the cheating) but I don't know when it drops or where it's going, so I will report in at the end. When they tell me it's ended.

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT?) - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Can't find it.

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - I've put the search on hold for and y'all can let me know if it's worth tracking down once it ends?

In case you missed it

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution. I demand you tell me the moment you find it!

Next Week Looks Like This:

NO IMG - we half way through this week already - sorry.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

July Releases to Come

7/5 This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Thai iQIYI) - trailer here, The PittBabe team behind a new restaurant set BL full of hidden agendas and starring my new favorites SailubPon. Delightful!

7/10 Century of Love (Thai Gaga) 10 eps - trailer here, DaouOffroad are back, this time as fated mates in a quasi historical paranormal moment. San has spent many lifetimes waiting for his lost beloved, to reincarnate from her death a century ago. But if he fails to find her within this century's time window, he will succumb to a tragic death. And this time she's a boy. Very much Director Who Buys Me Dinner meets First Love Again, hopefully better than both. I love this pair and think they can handle the premise, it's whether the storytelling is up to the challenge. I'm curious to see but I have reservations.

7/26 4 Minutes (Thai Netflix or iQIYI?) - Great is a university student from Faculty of Business and the son of a wealthy business owner. Out of the blue, he gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future.

7/29 Battle of the Writers (Thai ????) - trailer here, TutorYim return and while I adore them, I really hope this is better than Middleman's Love. Won't be hard. However: that premise! Ugh. Something something authors fighting - save me. Why don't writers understand that nothing is more boring than writers?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Defining @heretherebedork 's favorite endearment of "tiny idiot."

I love him. I also love what a class act they both were about this turn down. Thailand shows Korea how to handle a love triangle by NOT HAVING ONE.

Both We Are.

We stand a lap sit on this blog, but I think this is my first lap spin! I adored it! (Sunset X Vibes)

It's fun to watch them follow the original narrative but with these cute little Thai twists. Sometimes these are shifted for language reasons, sometimes for cultural, and sometimes I think just to draw a clear distinction from the JBL. I'm not mad about any of it. (My Love Mix Up)

Not just for you, honey. Truer words were never spoken. Yak is the biggest green flag ever to walk BL's verdant earth.

Linguistic corner!

I love this way of putting the translation. Usually, in Thai, the phrase used means "he's my happiness" (sounds like: kwamsook). To use sabai is different. Sabai more ubiquitous (sabai is one of the most commonly used phrases in Thailand) but also so different from the usual phrase we hear in ThBL at this moment. Thus, this execution is special, particularly from a doctor. I'm not quite sure how to put it but sabai can also be translated as feeling well, as in, not ill. So there is a way of looking at Wandee saying Yak is both his peace of mind and good for his health and well being.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Moments Posts - MC

Random posts on the TL from MC ... I love how even in the game all the boys comment on MCs posts

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by_thedrzayne, seagod_raf_, lumiere.who and 130k others

misshuntermc: bad bitch with a baddie friend

tagged: liiisa_

comments

liiisa_: with a baddie friend

↳ talkthat_tara: I love seeing two bad bitches ↳ misshuntermc: two bad bitches ↳ liiisa_: two bad bitches be friends

_thedrzayne: Pretty girl 🩵

skye.109: Gorgeous 😮‍💨

↳ liiisa_: me? ↳ skye.109: No ↳ liiisa_: 🥲

seagod_raf_: why are you so fine wtf 🫠🫠

lumiere.who: Good lord 😍

nene.nero: mc got these boys BARKIN in her comment section 🥴

↳ thing1_luke: riiiigght ↳ talkthat_tara: must be nice

thing2_kieran: a bad bitch that's wearing my gloves WHO SAID THAT??? 🫨

↳ misshuntermc: that block button looking real good now 😌 ↳ thing2_kieran: I was just playing 🥺

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by skye.109, _thedrzayne, seagod_raf_ and 101k others

misshuntermc: Look at Tara looking tf GOODT

tagged: talkthat_tara

comments

seagod_raf_: no lie im only looking at you 👀

↳ thomasthomas_: this aint about mc ↳ seagod_raf_: its always about mc 😡

lumiere.who: I can't take my eyes off you

skye.109: im looking at you looking tf goodt

_thedrzayne: I see no one else but you mc

liiisa_: Tara babes you look stunning honey 🤤

↳ talkthat_tara: thank you Lisa I love you 😘 ↳ misshuntermc: ignore the boys you stole the show babes

yvannamama: girl where was my invite? 🧐

↳ misshuntermc: I invited you and you said you had to work ↳ yvannamama: damn this job

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by talkthat_tara, nene.nero, imjenna and 127k others

misshuntermc: We got Jenna to come out somebody pinch me

tagged: talkthat_tara, liiisa_, imjenna

comments

imjenna: you girls know how to have fun

↳ liiisa_: same time next week? ↳ imjenna: absolutely not ↳ talkthat_tara: well we tried

lumiere.who: so this is what you four were up to while the rest of worked overtime?

↳ talkthat_tara: you sound like a hater ↳ liiisa_: look man I'm just a girl ↳ misshuntermc: I don't make the rules here 🤷🏾‍♀️

nene.nero: I had an extra 3 hours of paperwork because of this

↳ imjenna: are you complaining? ↳ nene.nero: n no ma'am ↳ misshuntermc: she got you stuttering in the replies ☠️☠️

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by skye.109, gray_sun, yvannamama and 115k others

misshuntermc: Staying out until 4am as if we don't have an 8am job to get to

tagged: talkthat_tara, liiisa_

comments

imjenna: this explains why you were late

↳ misshuntermc: it won't happen again it was Neros fault

nene.nero: now why am I in it??? 🤨

↳ talkthat_tara: you decided to question us for 30 minutes when we walked in the door ↳ nene.nero: it was work related ↳ misshuntermc: should've let us clock in first

skye.109: lmk when you're ready to quit working so you don't have to worry about that anymore

↳ _thedrzayne: don't worry I got her ↳ seagod_raf_: relax boys she's with me I'll take care of her ↳ lumiere.who: if anyone is taking care of her its gonna be me

thing2_kieran: uh oh the girls are fighting^^

↳ thing1_luke: Boss will win ↳ thomasthomas_: idk Rafayel is crazy I'd bet money on him ↳ whosjeremiah: Xavier punched me in the mouth for mispronouncing mc's name once ↳ gray_sun: he'll never admit it but Zayne shoulder checked tf out of me so he could speak to mc first

misshuntermc

♥️ liked by talkthat_tara, nene.nero, imjenna and 135k others

misshuntermc: Picture was perfect and this bitch fell on me 🙄

tagged: liiisa_

comments

liiisa_: bitch I told you to hold me up while I fixed my shoe

↳ misshuntermc: you barely gave me a second to ready myself ↳ nene.nero: I would've let her fall ↳ talkthat_tara: stop hating we invited you out and you declined

thing1_luke: HAHAHAHAHAHA loser

↳ misshuntermc: this is why Kieran is my favorite ↳ thing1_luke: stop don't say that 🥺 ↳ thing2_kieran: i will gladly hold the crown of being the favorite 😋 ↳ skye.109: can you not pit these 2 against each other they're getting on my nerves

[Direct message to Sylus]

misshuntermc: you're my favorite 😘 skye.109: Hell yea 😌

[noirgl0w]

cleaning up bsf!jj after he’s all bloodied and roughed up from a fight and he’s looking at you like you hung the stars bc you’re so kind to him no one’s ever this kind to him

You were studying for your exam the following week when you heard three familiar taps on the window: JJ.

You got up quickly, so much so that your legs almost failed to get out of bed and head in the direction of the window like a zombie, he had that effect on you, he was like the Pied Piper, he just attracted you.

"You shouldn't be here." You muttered, you hadn't seen him yet and the sight left you speechless. "J?"

He shook his head, stepping into your room. "I'm fine, I'm fine, jus' need a big ass sleeping session." You had to grab his arm, nearly stumbling when he put his other foot inside your room, his muddy boots staining the pretty white floor.

"What happened?" You pouted, he looked really bad, the left side of his face was purple. "Was it your dad?"

He shook his head and you understood, less talking and more action, you guided him to the bathroom and left him sitting there on the toilet lid while you snuck to your brother's room to get clean clothes for him.

"What are you doing?" He asked when he saw you coming, whispering your name. "No, I'm not going to take a shower now, I just want to sleep."

"My roof, my rules." You murmured, kissing him on the cheek. "You're going to have to dry yourself with my towel, because I don't think I have another one here right now…"

He growled, secretly loving the way yo took care of him, you looked so scared and he wondered if you knew how pretty you looked at this moment.

JJ shook his head. "The one you use to dry yourself with, naked?"

"Sorry about that." You whispered shyly, kissing his forehead. "I'll be right outside, let me know when you're done so we can take care of those wounds, yes?" You muttered, grabbing him by the chin and looking at the bruise on his face.

When he nodded you left the room, going to the kitchen to quickly grab the cleaning products mopping the floor quickly before he was done with his shower, not wanting anything to be stained with mud.

When JJ got out he oppened the door, leaning against the door frame as he looked at you, who was sitting on the floor like a puppy waiting for its owner.

"You having fun there?" He teased, helping you get up, you cursed yourself for thinking he looked good, he was only wearing some grey sweatpants of all the clothes you had gotten for him, and damn did he look good. You shouldn't think that about your injured bestfriend, but couldn't help yourself.

You sat on the sink, and he stood there looking at you.

"It was some kook." He whispered, hissing at the feeling of the alcohol-soaked cotton against his knuckles. "He ended up worse than me, just so you know it."

It made you sigh. "I don't care about how he ended up, I care about you." This made him frown. "And you are going to be sore for at least a week."

JJ looked at you, those baby blue eyes of his fixated on the way yours were shinning with worry, he didn't understand it, as if you couldn't be worried about him. Because you were good, nice, and he was, well, he was JJ Maybank.

You put everything back in the kit, and stood up from the sink, watching him with concern. "Why did you fight with a kook, Jayj?"

"He said... well he said ugly things about the pogues... about you and Kie... and you know, I wasn't going to allow it, no, that dick face couln't get away with it alright?" He sighed. "They just... they think they have the right to treat us as if we are trash, I mean, I kind of am but... You and kie? You?" JJ shook his head. "No, I don't even know how I got so lucky that I'm here and you are taking care of me, that asshole is not going to disrespect you in my face."

He looked in awe as you blushed, hugging him so tight that he could feel your heartbeat against his.

The closest he's ever had to you.

"Lets go to sleep, alright? You look tired..." You said, as if you weren't dying to share your bed with him.

And he of course happily accepted.

[lynnbanks]

Ooh! Maybe a Luke x reader where it’s an unexpected pregnancy? She holds off telling him cause she’s afraid of his reaction, and accidentally tells Jack first.

She had no idea she was with child until her latest doctor's appointment where they made her take a test before she could be prescribed her new medication. One second she is worry-free and excited to get lunch with her boyfriend after her appointment and all of a sudden the thought of doing anything makes her sick.

“We know from your blood work you are pregnant but unfortunately you will have to go up to the 7th floor to make an appointment with an ob-gyn.” and y/n is still very much in shock and just shakes her head yes. Walking out of the doctor's hands shaking “What the fuck am I going to do.”

I can't tell Luke I'm pregnant, what if he leaves, what if this tears us apart, what if we are bad parents, what if I am ruining his career? All these what-ifs with nobody to pull her out of it.

She makes it to the spot where they agreed to meet for lunch “Hi baby how are you feeling?” Luke asked, taking in her pale face and shaking frame “Did everything go okay? You don't look too good.”

Pulling herself from her thoughts “Yeah um I-they had to take some blood so I'm a little shaky that's all.”

“Well, we should probably eat then!” He says it with a big smile, happy to see his girlfriend after just a few hours apart. and she couldn't be the one to wipe the smile off of his face so she decided to not bring up what the doctor had just told her.

3 weeks later y/n is now 11 weeks pregnant and has just about all of the early stage symptoms. Her first appointment with her ob-gyn is next week and she is terrified. Luke is starting to notice some changes in her too. She is more distant, and emotional this morning. He caught her throwing up after breakfast and when she was done she acted as if she had been caught doing something bad.

“Let's get you to bed sweet girl, you need some rest.” y/n can't tell if it is the fear, the guilt or the baby growing inside of her but she feels like she is about to throw up the very little food she has been able to keep down. “ you must have caught what jack had last week,” Luke says covering her up

And it is that exact reason Jack was home early from practice 3 days later to find his brother's girlfriend passed out on the floor in the middle of the apartment. And is sitting with her in the emergency room till Luke can switch with him. All is fine until the doctor walks into her room “Hi my name is doctor brown this is Emma she will be taking notes for me while we talk”

pulling out her stethoscope to do a plus measurement test “So what are we in here for today?” before y/n can say anything Jack says it for her “She was passed out on the floor of our apartment.” the doctor nodes her head “In your charts, it says you are in the early stages of pregnancy. Do you know how far along you are?”

the room goes dead silent “The reason I say that is because it is normal to be dizzy during the first few weeks but if it is causing you to faint we definitely want to check in with your OB to make sure mom and baby are doing ok.” y/n can feel the tears fill her eyes this was not happening right now

“ I'm assuming you are Dad?” the doctor says to Jack who looks just as pale as she did when she found out “Um n-no no that would be my brother” he says looking at y/n who looks like she might have a mental breakdown at any second

“Oh I'm sorry um well from what I am seeing everything looks good but we still want to do an ultrasound just to cover all our bases. We will have someone come in just a few minutes to get that done for you,” she says, pumping some hand sanitizer into her hands “My only suggestions would be lots of rest and to drink lots of water and if everything is all good with the ultrasound you should be out of here pretty soon.” be for leaving me to fix this mess alone.

“ Did you know?” Jack asked and all y/n could manage to do was sob into her hands and shake her head yes “Does he know?” she shook her head no “Oh y/n” he said as if she was a lost puppy coming up to hug her tight while she let it all go “I don't want him to leave me.”

She was full-on sobbing “What, why would you think that?” “ I am ruining his life!” Jack pulled away to get a good look at the girl he saw as a little sister breaking down in his arms “Hey it takes two to tango and it's not fair to him for you to say that when he doesn't even know.” y/n hadn't thought about how unfair it was to judge Luke for a reaction she didn't know he was going to have

“ I'm scared; every woman in my life has done it alone. I know what it looks like and I can't do it.”

Jack is rubbing her back trying to soothe her as best as he can. “Luke is nothing like those guys ok and if he did ever turn out to be one of those guys you know me and Quinn would be right by your side as you kick his ass.” y/n laughed a little at that “ but you keeping this from him is going to break his heart.

Let me know if y'all want Luke's reaction if I keep writing right now it is only going to get worse. I also love doing y'all requests. And again grammar spelling and all of the above don't exist here.💋💋

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Okay so like, I’ve never requested anything so I don’t really even expect you to see this lol. But likeeee, can I possibly request a Din Djarin x reader, where neither the reader or Din know Grogu has the armor under his robe that the armorer gave him, and something happens where Grogu gets hurt and they both lose their minds before getting to him and realizing little dude is just fine. Please and thank you 🥹

Ooooh this is a good prompt. Speaking of, if you've asked for one then it's probably on my to-do list, but i am slow🤡. plus, updates of AFS and a couple other things come before random drabbles.

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k (i dont think I'm capable of writing less than a thousand words apparently smh)

AT FAULT

"don't let fear make your decisions." -Michael G. Manning

The quarry was laid on his back as a pool of purple blood began to settle in the sand under him. The twi'lek was motionless and your breathing was finally starting to calm. In one arm you held Grogu who seemed nonplussed by the violence at hand and in your other you held the still smoking blaster. When you managed to tear your eyes off the quarry's body they lifted to land on Din who stood stiff on the other side of the body.

"What the kriff was that?" Din snapped. His entire body was drawn taut like a wired rope pulled to tight. He was nearly vibrating in place and the anger that leaked into his voice was palpable. "Karking⏤ what the hell do you think you're doing out here!?"

His tone made your already irritable mood worse. You stuck the rarely used blaster back into the holster at your thigh. "Apparently, saving you! Maybe show a little gratitude!"

"Grati⏤” The word wasn’t even able to leave Din’s mouth. He stormed forward, boots passing the dead quarry, until he stood right in front of you. Close enough that the Mandalorian was forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him. You knew he stood that close on purpose⏤ he wanted to tower over you right now. “The two of you could’ve gotten killed! I told you not to leave the Razor Crest!”

“We’ve been on that ship for two weeks straight, Din!” You argued. “We just wanted a little fresh air⏤”

“I told you this quarry was dangerous, I said⏤”

“All your quarries are dangerous, Din. You⏤”

“When I tell you to stay on the damn ship,” Din grabbed your by the arm not holding Grogu, “I expect you to kriffing listen. Dank farrik, cyar’ika.” The way he spat out your usual nickname made you wince. “I told you this quarry was bad news⏤”

“And I told you that you shouldn't have taken the bounty!” You yelled and tried to yank your arm free. Din held on tight, and Grogu began to babble worriedly in your arms. “I told you we should take a break! Take a breath! We all need it, even you. Especially, you!”

You yanked your arm back again and this time it broke free. Din settled on placing his hands on his hips, but you could still feel his anger radiating off of him. Tempers had been running high the last few weeks, stuck on a close quarter ship while stressing over the Empire being on your heels, and it seemed the two of you were finally letting it come to a head. 

“It’s naive of you to think we have the time for a break.” Din seethed. “I take bounties so we can afford fuel to run, food to eat, and⏤” He shook his head, taking in a sharp breath before continuing. “You tell me to show you gratitude? Gratitude because you risked yours and Grogu’s life for me?” Din took one step toward you and you took two steps back so he stayed a foot or so away. He pointed to himself. “Everything I do, my only priority, is keeping you and Grogu safe. Away from the Empire. So, how about you show a little gratitude and stay on the damn ship when I tell you to.”

Grogu whined in your arms and you shifted him to the other in a poor attempt to console him. You weren’t ready to climb onto the Razor Crest quite yet. You weren’t done with this fight. Din’s anger and words only spurring you on further.

“You think I’m not grateful for all you do?” You spat. “Of course, I am, you ass! I just hate watching you burn yourself into the ground for us. You need to take care of yourself too, Din. That involves taking a break now and then! That’s why I suggested leaving this bounty untouched. I just want to help.”

Din nodded once then tilted his head. “Right. Yeah. Putting Grogu and yourself at risk was a lot of help. I feel much better. Thank you, cyar’ika.”

You scoffed, “You know what, Din? You are⏤”

The sound of an unfamiliar chuckle and your eyes snapped from the dark t-shape visor to the quarry sitting up with a menacing grin. It took less than a second. It happened so quickly that your mind couldn’t register the movements fast enough.

A blaster raised.

A blaster fired.

And, you didn’t have the time to spin away. The force of the blaster bolt knocked you right off your feet and onto the ground. 

You heard Din scream, the sound hoarse and raw and broken, then you heard another blaster go off. As you laid on your back, you realized you weren’t hurting. Your back was a little sore from landing on it, but you didn’t feel the sharp burning pain of a blaster scorching through your skin. That’s when your brain finally clicked. That’s when you realized. Grogu. Oh, Maker. Grogu. Grogu, baby⏤ Your eyes snapped down to see the little boy’s eyes closed and the front of his robe was blackened from the blow.

The scream that filled the air this time was yours. You felt the sound reverberate in the base of your throat, it rattled your chest, but the only noise you could hear was the racing heartbeats that pounded in your ears. You sat up, cradling him to your chest, and you could feel gloved hands pawing at your arms. Someone was trying to take him⏤ someone was trying to take him from you. You screamed once more, your body shook, and a gloved hand cupped the side of your face. Nothing registered until you saw Grogu blink his big eyes open. Your breath caught in your throat. That same gloved hand pulled aside Grogu’s ruined robe and the telltale shine of beskar stared back up at you. A mudhorn adorning the plate that Grogu wore at the center of his chest.

Grogu let out a soft mumble and smiled up at you. 

“Oh, thank the Maker.” Din breathed. “Cyar’ika. Cyar’ika? Cyari’ka!” A hand titled your face up, tearing your eyes away from Grogu who was wiggling in your tight grip. You met the dark t-shape visor of Din’s helmet. “Are you okay? Did it clip you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and opened your mouth, but all that came out was a ragged sob. Even after Din pulled you both into his arms, you continued to cry against his silver beskar plated chest until your own chest ached from how badly each sob racked your body. Grogu seemed content to be squashed between you and Din. 

Hours later, in the quiet of hyperspace, Din sat in the pilot’s chair with you on his lap, cradled against his body, while you held Grogu tight to yours. It seemed since the incident Din refused to let either of you go, and you had no desire to complain. Having his arms wrapped around you while you watched Grogu sleep was the safest you had ever felt.

“I’m so sorry, Cyar’ika.” Din whispered. His unmodulated words were muffled by the way he rested his face at the top of your head⏤ buried his lips into your hair to continue peppering light kisses anywhere he had access. In this position, your head tucked under his, you couldn’t see his face. “I am so, so sorry.”

You shook your head lightly. When you spoke, your voice was ragged from screaming earlier, “No, I am. I should’ve listened to you, Din. I should’ve stayed on the ship.” Your eyes began to water again. “I almost got Grogu killed.”

“No. No, that wasn’t your fault. Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut.” Din mumbled the end of his sentence in Mando’a. “You were right. I shouldn’t have taken that bounty. I can’t lose the two of you and I’ve grown… obsessive in trying to protect you.”

“It’s worked. You’ve kept us safe. If I had listened to you⏤”

“You’re not prisoners. I can’t lock you away from the world because of my fear.” Din cut in. You let your free hand trace down the small bridge of Grogu’s nose and he scrunched it up at the contact while staying soundly in his sleep. Nothing Din would say could rid you of this guilt entirely. If he wanted to claim the mistake he could, but that didn’t make it any less your fault as well. “Please speak to me.”

You closed your eyes and lifted your head so you could press a kiss against Din’s throat. He shuddered and sighed at the touch. “Can we just agree that this is both of our faults?”

“We can.” Din shrugged, his arms tightened around you. “But I'd rather you not take any of the blame.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately as we’ve learned, I’m not good at listening.” You mumbled.

Din chuckled. “Good. I don’t want you to blindly listen to me. Your ideas are equally as good as mind, if not occasionally better.” He closed the space to press a soft kiss against yours. It was sweet and tender. Not a declaration of lust or desire, but a reassurance that you were there. Din broke away to whisper. “But if you could at least let me know when you are leaving the ship, I’d appreciate it.”

“Only if you promise to take us somewhere pretty soon.”

“I’m already ahead of you, cyar’ika.” As he spoke, his lips brushed against yours and you had no desire to lean back away from him. Din moved his hand and you could feel his hand brush against the side of your arm every time he soothingly rubbed Grogu’s head. “Crest is on route to Naboo.”

You pressed another light peck of your lips against his before leaning your head back down against his chest. Din settled his head back on top of yours, and you felt the soft caress of his thumb against your arm from the hand that was wrapped around you. Din pulled you and Grogu a hair closer, and you reveled in the silence of hyperspace.

"Also, when did Grogu get a mudhorn beskar chestplate?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

mando'a translations

Ner mesh'la cyar'ika, ibic hara cuyir pal'vut. [My beautiful darling, this sin is mine.]

[vivwritesfics]

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Six - Where Is The Party Princess?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

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a/n: thank you so much to @nirrahbrii for help with some translations! i don't think this chapter would have been the same without that little world lol

Where Is The Party Princess?

The Monaco Post prides themselves on their ability to keep the public updated on the whereabouts of our favourite royal. We've documented every one of her scandals, from the time where she was fifteen years old and found herself detained by the police, to last year, when she was caught in bed with American actor, Glen Powell.

For the past few years, we have thanked the Princess of Monaco for providing us with such stories. She was a royal like no other, one we found our readers could relate to.

So, that leaves us to wonder, where is the party princess now? It has been a week since we've last seen Princess Y/N. Our sources have reached out to members of the royal family and staff for comment, but only managed to get one reply.

It seems, dear readers, that our beloved party Princess has run away.

"Are you sure you want the party princess to drag you down to her level? Because that's what's going to happen next time we're pictured together."

Charles turned his full body towards her. "What're you saying?" He wore a frown on his face, one that didn't suit him. She realised it immediately. He looked so downtrodden when he frowned. "Do you want to break this arrangement off?"

Once again she shrugged. "Just giving you the option to get out before you end up like Frédéric Archambeau," she said.

"Who is Frédéric Archambeau?"

"Exactly."

Charles sucked in a breath. He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair and stood up. "That's it," he said, striding towards her. "We can break off this arrangement, if you want, but I'm not going to leave you to here to rot."

She scoffed. "Stop pretending to care."

Immediately, Charles took a hold of her mug and placed it down onto the coffee table. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "We're going away."

She couldn't stop the laugh that was pulled from her lips. "Fuck off, Charles," she said and pulled her hand out of his.

But Charles grabbed her again. He pulled her towards her bedroom. "Pack a bag, we're going somewhere warm," he said and pulled open her wardrobe.

"Where?" It wasn't a genuine question, more of a challenge. She sat on the bed and folded her legs under her body, watching him. "Where the fuck are you taking me?" Her voice was bitter, filled with venom as she watched Charles.

He found a suitcase under her bed and began throwing clothes in. It was impossible to sort out what was clean and what wasn't, so Charles just threw it all in. "Australia," he said. "Or Spain. We can go wherever."

"I don't want to go with you," she said immediately.

Charles released an exasperated sigh. "I am begging you to go along with this," he said as he crouched in front of her. "Don't even do this for me. Do it for yourself!"

"Why?" She cried. "Why the fuck do you care about me?!"

Charles dropped his head into his hands. "Please," he said quietly. "Just, let me help you."

It wasn't for her, she realised quickly. For some reason, Charles needed this. He needed this trip, she just didn't know why he needed her. "Fine," she said and began filling her suitcase with everything she'd need for a trip away.

A relieved breath left his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

That was how she found herself in Greece with Charles Leclerc. For the first few days, the tabloids had left them alone. The Monaco press wasn't around to write new crap about her (so they'd been recycling the same old crap).

It took a few days for her to really warm up to him. She knew Charles, sure, but she knew the Charles the world saw. She knew the rich kid from Monaco, the one that the tabloids wrote about, the one that had the tiktok edits made about him.

She didn't know the real Charles. The Charles that loved his friends. The Charles that had so much he wanted to do with his life. The Charles that was genuinely so funny. She knew the F1 driver that doubled as a super model, she knew CL16, not Cha.

Cha. When had she taken to calling him that? It had happened all at once, but she hadn't stopped. It was maybe their second day in Greece, their second day of peace, their second day of getting away from it all.

Every call she'd gotten from Henri, she'd ignored. She didn't need her brother's constant scrutiny. He didn't approve of the trip, that much was clear, but she didn't care. Henri had tried calling Charles, but, at her request, he didn't pick up the phone.

Both the Princess and Charles were used to being waited on through their vacations. They were rich enough that it had become expected. But, for this vacation, Charles wanted it to just be the two of them. No interruptions, nobody to report back to the press.

Just the both of them making the most of it.

She stepped out of her bedroom in the villa and yawned. Her body was adorned in nothing but shorts and a vest top as she walked across the cold stone flooring, heading towards the kitchen.

Charles was already sitting there. He sat in just his swimming trunks, a coffee in front of him as he went through his emails. (As embarrassing as it was to admit, it had taken the two of them two days to work out how to use the coffee machine. She and Charles each had a coffee machine, but this one was different, not as simple as having a 'go' button.)

"Wanna go out for drinks tonight?" She asked as she sat opposite him. Her body was turned towards the kitchen doors, looking towards the pool.

She hadn't had a drink since they'd gotten to Greece. Charles was incredibly proud of her, although he hadn't said anything. "We can go for a few," he answered. Nothing too crazy, Charles wasn't sure what to do with her if she got too crazy.

He was barely able to take care of her after they'd gone to The Hole In The Wall.

Maybe that was what led Charles to suggest something else. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't in good conscience take her out for a night on the town. They'd managed to stay out of the spotlight for this long, and Charles could see how much good it was doing her. Doing both of them.

He wasn't ready to drag her back into it.

"What if we stay here?" He asked, standing up and walking towards the glass doors. He carried his coffee mug with him as he looked at the pool sparkling in the morning sun. "We could have drinks around the pool."

She let out a snort, one she assumed he would have found unattractive. "You still that embarrassed to be seen with me?" She asked through her snort. But then she saw the way his face fell. "I'm joking, Cha. Yes, I'd love to have drinks with you around the pool."

They went about their day, swimming in the pool, lounging in the sun, going out for lunch together (always in big hats and sunglasses. It wasn't the most covert operation, but it was working).

In the evening, Charles attempted to make dinner. He wasn't the best cook out there, but it was something he enjoyed. They'd gotten drinks on their way back from lunch, shopping in the little supermarket on their way back to the villa.

It wasn't supposed to be anything fancy, but she still dressed up. Charles had the nicest shirt and shorts combo that he'd brought with him and she wore a pretty little dress.

He wasn't going to admit that the sight of her walking down the stairs, sitting in the little out by the pool in that pretty little dress, it would have had a weaker man on his knees. Charles didn't know how he was still standing. Maybe because he wanted to help her, maybe because he respected her brother too much to try anything on.

She sang his praises while she ate, a far cry from the girl he'd practically forced to pack a bag just a few days ago. This was a side of her that the world had forced to hide away. This was the side of her he wanted to see, the real her that he wanted the world to fall in love with. Not the her that the world had decided to hate.

When they finished eating, they just sat there, drinking and talking as they looked at the pool. "So, are you actually friends with my brother, or is it just because he's the princess?" She asked as she drank from her wine glass.

Charles let out a laugh. That was exactly the kind of question he'd expected from her. "Henri and I are actually friends," he answered, not paying attention to the way her toe hit his knee (he didn't mind it, not one bit). "I'll admit, I felt bad when people called me the Prince of Monaco, and that may have contributed to me wanting to be friends with him. But our friendship is real."

She nodded as she sipped. "Must be nice having the Prince of Monaco at your every beck and call," she mumbled.

"You're saying that like you don't."

That dry laugh he'd heard so many times before, that dry laugh that Charles hated to hear, left her lips. "Trust me, Cha, I don't." She finished her drink and stood up. "At least, not the real Prince of Monaco."

He couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol that controlled her. But she hiked up her skirt and sat himself in her lap. It was so sudden, so unexpected, he had no idea what to do. Her hands were around his neck. "I'd rather have the unofficial Prince of Monaco at my beck and call. What do you think of that?"

Charles couldn't react. He didn't get a chance to, not when she pressed her lips to his own.

It wasn't slow, it wasn't full of passion. No, it was quick and clumsy. One taste of her lips against his own. And, when she pulled away, she laid her head against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have done that," she whispered as she played with his hair. "Oh, crotte."

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[antimony-medusa]

Okay so, the thing about Boundaries, and why people keep bringing them up over and over again to creators, is I think there's a bit of a desire for what people are doing here to not be weird. Cause like, the creator signed off on it, so like, I'm fine and you can't make fun of me or get mad at me.

And like, I understand the desire to not be made fun of or have people get mad at you, believe me, I know, but I think we have all just gotta accept that what we're doing is— it's a little weird, bro.

Like by definition what fandom is is getting a little too much into your thing. Fan comes from Fanatic. We all saw some block men and we went way too hard with it. And I think that sufficiently viewed from the outside, there is just no way to do any kind of transformational creation and it not be weird to the wrong people.

Like, taking a character and making them miserable? One of the honourable fandom traditions, whether you're whumping them or if you go hard into comfort at the end. For someone entirely outside of fandom, that's just like why are you DOING that, bro, and when you add in the fact that we're using people's real names (well, gamer tags), there's no way for that not to be odd. "The creator said it was okay" is not going to make people go ??? any less. (Let me emphasize that this is fine, it's just like, also, you bring that up on the bus and peope go ????)

Let's look at fluff. You want to write about your characters in a coffee shop au? You want to write about your characters in a cuddly family dynamic, taking care of each other? You want to age down characters and write kid fic where they learn to face the challenges of the world and it's just so cute and you love them so much even if nothing really bad happens? I promise you that my non-fandom parents are gonna be like "why are you spending your time on that" and again, if you throw in the "is this real people" (it isn't, but that is a delicate thing to explain), you're looking at people staring at you in discomprehension and backing away.

Shippy stuff. Again, one of the honourable fandom traditions. You just love your guys and you want to write about how much they love each other (or maybe make it tragic about how only one person can make it out of the cactus ring). You spent all this time thinking about their feelings writing it out. You write out a kiss scene. It makes you flail happily. Most people don't do that! Absolutely fun to do? Yes! Something you can bring up as an ice breaker at the company potluck? Probably not! We are too much into the characters, and that's fine, but it's still gonna look a bit odd from the outside!

Plotty gen. You're writing an entire new story, but you're taking existing characters for it? Like it's original fiction, but you're using existing characters? Why not just write original fiction <I have had this conversation. Oh, you're writing a story about minecraft characters, and they— they get tortured? Like it starts with them being tortured? <also a fun conversation to be in.

I'm mostly thinking about this from the fanfiction side, but art, meta— we are just getting into things way too much. We're spending hours on this stuff. We drew the creators minecraft sonas in maid dresses. There are millions of words of fiction on the archive about every conceivable universe of good/bad things happeing to the characters. It is a primary hobby, where I could be learning piano or paying attention to sports. And I'm not, and like, that's fine.

I am here to tell you that people absolutely might find what we're doing weird, and also it's entirely fine. I just ran a poll about the sexiest minecraft character that got 68k votes on the most voted poll. And then I had to explain that to my doctor to explain why I didn't really have a normal baseline for the past week to compare to. (Doctor visibly thought it was weird but he was also like "you go" because he's a good doctor, but I had to start with explaining minecraft because he knew NOTHING about what I was talking about.) You just gotta accept that fandom is for a small segment of the population, we are all having fun with ourselves, and it's for us, it's not for the general population, and stop trying to make it palatable to people who don't care to understand. People on this site keep saying "racist white boys" and then they don't have the intellectual curiosity to pursue further as to why maybe that's not true, having a boundaries post is not going to make them nicer. It's fine. They're being jerks, we're just having fun.

And like, stop trying to get the creator to sign off on it. Accept that sometimes we're being weird and they can look at it if they want to see the weird fanatics going too hard with the characters. They will tell us if we're doing something they want to stop associating with their name, and up until that point, just accept that what we're doing is weird, and have fun with it.

We're weird.

Be more weird 2k23.

Have fun with it.

I wrote a time travel AU in DMs with a friend last night about a bird man and a minecraft piglin. Not normal. It's FINE.

[gardens-light]

Finding Peace

Taking shelter in an abandoned petrol station, tension builds between you and your family. As blame and arguments raise- not like you didn't feel guilty enough already. You didn't ask for this- any of this! You just wanted to help Optimus. And it's not like the Autobot leader didn't have problems of his own. Being hunted down by humans for reasons yet unknown was bad enough- but ignoring the yearning of his Spark has slowly become problematic. Occasionally shaking his helm attempting to get you out of his processors, trying to convince himself that a 'Sparkmate' was nothing but a romancide idea that the younger bots came up with. Or is it?...

Content: Minor coarse language. Event's take part in Transformers- Age of Extinction. (Leading to major spoilers in Part 4.) Optimus x Human F/Reader. Fluff. (Reader insert.)

Sparkmate Series- Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

"Well... on the bright side." Tessa's voice lowly spoke, while sitting upon a dusty bar. Playing with some fairy lights. "You two have finally met.."

"Where's he from?"

"I told you. He's a driver from Texas."

"Texas?" Cade scoffed at Tessa's words. "Where? Dublin, Texas? Shamrock, Texas? So why does he sound like a leprechaun?"

Shane's brows knitted together, as he leaned against the bar. "You'd get your ass kicked in Ireland for saying that."

"Well we're not in Ireland, Lucky Charms. We're in Texas." Cade's attention turned back onto Tessa. "So he drives? What's that supposed to mean? Like he drives for a living?"

"Yeah... at least he makes a living."

Tessa's words caused Cade to fall silent. His eyes flickering up to you, frowning as you tried to avoid him.

"How old are you?" Cade challenged, approaching Shane.

"Twenty."

"And my daughter is seventeen. So as far as I'm concerned, this can go two ways." Cade leaned on the other side of the bar, glaring at Shane. "One, I punch you in the mouth right here, right now. And you call the police on me."

"Dad!-"

"Or two. I just call the cops on you because this is illegal. She's a minor!"

Steady... Steady... your thoughts wandered, while trying to focus on making a 'house of cards' out of beer coasters.

"We're protected by the 'Romeo and Juliet laws'-"

"We dated for a little while." Tessa explained, cutting Shane off. "I was a sophomore, and he was a senior. It's fine."

"We've got a pre-existing juvenile foundational relationship. Statute 2705-3." Shane took out his wallet, showing Cade the small card stating the law. "We're above board."

Cade sighed, "Romeo and Juliet, huh? Do you know how they ended up?"

Just... one more coaster...

"In love-"

"Dead." Cade turned to you. "And you, Y/N?"

Shit...

An unamused expression fell across your features as the coasters came tumbling down.

"Don't look at me like that, young lady. How long have you known about this?"

Cade rubbed his temples as you silently responded with a small shrug. "Well tell me. Days? Weeks?-"

"Months."

"Months...? And you didn't think that I would of wanted to know about this?-"

"Dad. Tessa is a full grown ass adult." You groaned. "She's capable of learning from a mistake or two."

"I trusted you. Both of you-"

"To what?" Tessa butted in. "Never have fun. Take a risk. Be a normal teenager like you?"

"I am your father, okay!" Cade firmly spoke, turning his attention onto Tessa. "And I've been busting my ass to take care of you and your sister!-"

"Oh so is that why I'm busting a gut trying to juggle two jobs?" You scoffed. "And here I thought, I'm the one who took care of this family."

"Is that what you were doing when you continued working on that damn truck?" Tessa spoke to you. A frown forming upon her lips, "all you had to do was report it.-"

"You know I couldn't do that-"

"And now we're forced into hiding. And my life is over! So 'thank you', Sis. You've taken 'real good' care us-"

"None of this would of happened! If you just kept your fucking mouth shut!-"

"Don't talk to your sister like that!" Cade stepped in.

"Sure Dad. Take her side... you always do."

"Y/N-"

"Look! I get it!" you raised onto your feet. "I know I'm 'the disappointment', 'the let down'-"

"Sweetie, I've never said that-"

Your eyes wandered over your dad's disappointed expression. "You didn't had to..."

---

Sitting upon the petrol stations' roof, the gentle breeze of the cool night air felt refreshing against your skin. Soft chirping of crickets eased your headache, your eyes gazing out into the dark empty road. The sound of small grunts and sighs caught your attention, briefly gazing over your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, once seeing Tessa struggling to climb the ladder with a mug in hand.

"What do you want?" you sighed, turning your attention back onto the road ahead.

"I thought- ouch!- that you could do with a hot drink."

The sound of the metal roofing warping and creaking, under Tessa's feet suddenly felt loud. As she approached you, taking a sit upon the roof's edge, leaving a small gap between you.

"I made your favourite." She kindly spoke, handing you the hot beverage. "I couldn't make it exactly to your liking, but it's the thought that counts. Right?"

Her weak smile faded as you remained silent. Speechlessly accepting the mug from her and holding it in your hands.

"You're not a disappointment." Tessa spoke after a brief hesitation. "For if it wasn't for you, we would of lost our home ages ago."

Tessa bit her lip before continuing, "I... did tell a friend about the truck. B-But I honestly didn't think he would believe me! If I knew- I wouldn't of..."

Your side glance caused her voice to trail off into silence.

"Well... what I'm trying to say... is that I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Sipping the hot beverage, feeling the gentle warmth fill you inside. Tessa followed your gaze, a small smile returning to her lips.

"You're worried about him. Aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes." Tessa teased. "Like a lovesick girl."

You returned her smile, playfully pushing her away. "Oh shut up. You're talking nonsense, I'm just concerned about him. That's all."

"Uh-huh?" Tessa raised an eyebrow. Seeing a glimpse of you trying to hide a shy smile behind the mug.

"So... What's Dad doing?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

"Playing with some drone that he stole from the one of the guys. Dad's convinced that they would of truly killed us."

Tessa's heart sank as she watched you pull your legs close to your chest, hugging your knees a little while resting your mug against them.

"B-But that's just Dad's crazy thought." Tessa's guilt weighed on her heart a little more. Starting to wish she never said anything.

"Everything would of been fine, if only I watched what I was saying." You buried your head, resting your forehead against your knees and hiding your face. "I-If I didn't panic..."

"Shhh. Shhh." Tessa cooed, closing the gap between you. Placing her arm around your shoulders and resting her head against yours. "It's not your fault. You have a big heart, Y/N. Never be ashamed of that."

She gently pulled away, cupping your tearstained face and making you face her. "You are a rare treasure, and that Transformer better know that."

Finally smiling through your tears, Tessa rested her forehead against yours. The sound of a horn blaring in the distance broke the silence, while bright headlights burned the darkness away. You quickly raised onto your feet, causing Tessa to catch the falling mug while the hot beverage spilled onto the ground below.

You placed both hands against your chest, while gazing at the oncoming truck. Feeling it flutter with joy, as the sound of a faminular engine came to your ears.

Tessa rose onto her feet, giving you one last soft glance before leaving. A knowing smile forming upon her lips. You've got it bad...

Optimus carefully reduced his speed, as he walked out of his altmode. Trying to slow the pulsing rhythm of his spark as he approached you. Being mindful of each step he took, so it didn't appear like he was in a rush to be beside you again.

"Optimus..." your voice was low. Trying to hide the excitement within your tone.

"My deepest sympathies for your home." His soothing tone washed away the doubt and worries, that had been building up inside you. "And for leaving you so promptly. But I had to confirm we weren't followed."

You speechlessly nodded, trying to hold a relaxed expression as your eyes took in the sight of him.

Oh my...

Rust and dirt no longer coated his exterior, instead deep blue metal plates framed his chrome fisque, like pieces of armour. Your heart skipping a beat as your eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail of his broad shoulders and strong biceps.

Red flames danced across the gauntlets, but it was his torso you couldn't look away from. Your cheeks matched the warmth of Optimus' spark, as you gazed at his chest plate. Hands clutching onto your shirt, stopping the urge to reach out and run your fingertips over his toned form. Knowing that your touch wouldn't just stopped at that chromed waist of his.

"Loving the upgrade." Forcing the words out of your mouth, after swallowing your nerves.

Optimus got down on one knee, as you edged a little closer to the side of the roof. His blue optics studied you for a moment.

"You've been crying..."

Something inside him ached a little, as you temporarily turned away from him.

"It's nothing." You assured, brushing the dried tears off your cheeks. "I've just been... a little worried that's all."

"And I admittedly have been concerned about you."

That little sentence erupted butterflies in your stomach. Simply gazing up at him with wondering eyes.

How the stars sparkled in your eyes almost caused Optimus to choke on his own breath. Warmth begun to build beneath his metal plates, as his yearning spark called out for you.

His head tilted slightly as his scanners picked up something. Your body froze as he slightly hesitated before reaching out to you. Optimus' servo curled into a relaxed fist, your eyes peering down at it as he gently placed the knuckle of his index digit under your chin. While his thumb rested against your cheek.

His spark skipped a beat as a loving sigh slipped out of your mouth. Enjoying the cool touch of his metal against your soft skin.

Optimus carefully turned your head from side to side, studying your features. His scanners picking up the bruise that begun to form upon the bridge of your nose.

"That bastard hurt you." The small underlying anger within his tone caught you off guard. "I promise... I'll make him pay for what he's done to you."

"Optimus." You cooed, placing your hand on the back of his servo. Bringing it to the side of your face, resting your head against his digits.

His fans tried to push the warm air out of Optimus' vents, as the heat beneath his plates begun to build. His spark aching with a yearn he could no longer deny.

Closer... The word played on his processors. Causing him to fully kneel against the concrete ground, leaning in a little more.

Your loving eyes met the soft glow of his optics, as his servo slowly trailed down towards your waist. His thumb tracing the curves of your thighs, hips and waist.

The butterflies in your stomach tangled your nerves, your heart fluttering against your chest as a small gasp slipped from your lips. Eyes lingering over his features before closing, as you rested a hand against his chest plate.

As your heart matched the beat of Optimus' spark, syncing in harmony. A beautiful glow enveloped the pair of you, creating a warmth that made you almost forget about the world, as your lips ghosted over one another.

"Mr. Leader of the Free Galaxy is back!" an unknown mechanical voice caused you to quickly jump away from Optimus. "I knew you'd make it! I never doubted."

Crosshairs... Optimus' processors sighed. Trying to hide his disappointed expression as the leader faced his joyful Autobots. The sound of their roaring engines calming, before stepping out of their altmodes.

"We've got your warning." Drift greeted, "we've been waiting."

"Hell yeah! Boom time!" Hound cheered. "We've got the gang back together."

Drift tilted his head to the side, as his blue optics switched between you and Optimus. Smiling to himself as his processors picked up, the afterglow that slowly faded from the pair of you.

Optimus cleared his throat before speaking, "Autobots. The humans have asked us to play by their rules. Well... those rules have just changed."

"Humans, bunch of backstabbing weasels." Hound groaned, causing the ground to shake as he disarmed. Throwing heavy weaponries onto the floor.

"Hound, find your inner compass. Loyalty is nothing but a flower in the winds of fear and temptation."

Hound raised a brow at Drift's wise tone, "what the hell are you saying?"

The blue Autobot smiled, "it's a haiku-"

"Cut the crap! Before I drop a grenade down your throat."

You backed away from the edge of the roof, as Drift unsheathed his swords. "Try it" he challenged, "you'll be dead."

"Oh please do it." Hound taunted. "I wanna see you do it."

"You know what?" Bumblebee's radio buzzed, "it save us so much time."

Optimus gave you an unimpressed expression, as you gazed up at him, raising an eyebrow. A small chuckle left you as he speechlessly gestured to his Autobots. As to say, 'look what I have to put up with.'

"Well raise your hand, if you're thoroughly disenchanted with our little 'Earth vacation.'" Crosshairs spoke, while circling the petrol station. His green optics studying you, "so who's the spy?"

"Whoa! Whoa! Put those things away!" you yelped as Hound and Crosshairs immediately withdraw their guns, and pointing them at you.

"Stop, Hound! Both of you!" Optimus commanded, stepping in front of the building.

Both Autobots gave their leader a puzzled expression, as he continued. "Y/N, risked her life for mine. We owe her..."

Drift gave Bumblebee a playful nudge, discreetly pointing at you and Optimus. While Hound and Crosshairs briefly looked at one another, and turning their attention back onto their leader. Watching him stepping aside, and silently encouraging you to return to the roof's edge.

"Has there been... any sign of the others?" Optimus asked.

"No..." Hound sighed, withdrawing his weapon and settling himself upon the ground. "We're all that's left."

"They're picking us off, one by one!" Crosshairs explained.

"We're the pathetic, dirty foursome." Hound joked, "and you make five."

"Is this our best-case scenario?" Shane's teasing voice questioned you. Your eyes gazed at him, watching the Irishman climb onto the roof. "Autobot witness protection?"

"Hey Lucky Charms." you spoke, placing a hand upon your hips. "You're welcome to leave at anytime."

"Well, for the record, Super Sister. I'm not hiding with you." Shane gestured towards Optimus, "I'm hiding out with that big guy."

Tessa and Cade followed Shane's lead, as the three of them approached your side. All looking at the Autobots and they chatted among themselves.

"Sensei, with your fate unknown Bumblebee has held command." Drift's optics gazed at the yellow scout.

Bee fist bumped the air, while Drift rolled his optics. "Despite his complete and total lack of anything resembling warrior discipline."

An annoyed whirl weeze out of Bumblebee, as his optics narrowed on his comrade.

"He's like a child-"

"This 'child' is about to kick your ass!" Bee's radio buzzed. Landing the first hit against Drift's helm.

"Cage fight." Hound whispered to you, slightly leaning against the petrol stations' roof.

"What's the matter with them?" Tessa lowly asked, reaching out for your hand.

"They're on edge." You briefly explained, allowing her hand to slip into yours. "Who could blame them? They're being hunted."

"Am I the only one who sees through this puppy-dog act of yours?" Drift taunted Bee, while holding him in a headlock. "It's beneath you."

"Yes, I've been waiting for them all to dispatch each other." Crosshairs cheered. His servos gently clapping, "so I could take charge with no trouble at all. Just me. Reporting to me."

"Well, it sure looks like you've been missed." You said to Optimus.

"Autobots, humans are hunting us down. We need to know why."

"Listen..." Cade spoke, stepping towards Optimus. "I don't know why, but I might have an idea about who..."

---

"This drone I stole recorded footage of an Autobot raid." Cade explained.

You placed an affectionate hand upon Optimus' knee, as he sat cross-legged upon the floor. His servo clenching into a fist, as the dragonfly-like drone projected the video footage.

"It's in pieces, but watch what happens here." Cade pointed out, "they ripping them apart."

"That's Leadfoot." Hound spoke, as he placed a part of his helm over his spark. Feeling the saddened energy sink within his chest plates. "Savages."

"And later, this truck comes to haul him off to K.S.I. Kinetic Solutions." Cade continued. "They're creating defenses, aerospace, government contracts. They designed this drone."

"So these government guys are hunting you down, and then passing you of to this K.S.I?" Shane questioned.

"Do you know anything else?" Optimus asked.

"Only that their company headquarters is in Chicago." Cade spoke.

Perhaps... There's a chance of the Autobots being taken there. You thought.

"No way to get inside without a battle." Hound thought out loud.

"What if you had some human help?" everyone looked at you.

"Sweetie, no." Cade protested. "Besides, what are you two partners now?"

"Dad, we're targets now too." You spoke, feeling his worried stare on you. "We need to know why, or we'll never get our lives back."

"Y/N. You have done more than any of us could've asked for." Optimus kindly spoke. "I do not-"

"I'm coming." You gently argued. Seeing Tessa's encouraging smile from the corner of your eye.

"It's going to be dangerous." Drift warned, as he lend towards you.

The blue Autobot stiffed as you placed a comforting hand upon his knee. Giving him a warm smile, "you're important Optimus. Therefore, you're important to me.

A suttle warmth radiated from underneath Drift's metal plates.

"Autobots." Optimus spoke, as he raised onto his feet. "I have sworn to never kill humans."

"Big mistake." Hound mumbled

"But when I find out who's behind this. He's going to die..."

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