#If you think that standing in the train with a cigarette in your mouth and lighter in hand to turn it on while getting out of the train m

[livingdeadgirlflorette]

YOUR FACE ⟡₊⋆∘ carl grimes x fem!reader

summary : with this weird dynamic between helping Carl smoke, tension-filled silence, and longing looks— maybe this time together might be where unspoken words aren't left unsaid.

word count : 4.9k

tags / rundown : fluff, slightly suggestive, smoking, awkward first kiss, confessions, kissing, inaccurate depiction of how smoking affects people, reader isn't good at feelings

a / n : This was in my drafts for such a long time oml! anyways the tile is based of the song "your face" by wisp, I just really liked the song with this :3 this isn't as long as my other fics but I hope you enjoy just as equally <3

dividers by me ! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The smoke that fills Carl's lungs from your mouth gives him another familiar hazy feeling. It's been an unarguable routine from the two of you— whenever you guys get too overstimulated from the Alexandrian kids or just from the adults, you both go to the same clearing you guys met, sit down next to each other, Carl brings his comics to read and you bring your cigarettes.

And something that he'll always look forward to is you helping him smoke. The feeling of your hand holding his face, keeping him steady and blowing the puff you took into his mouth, him taking it in and breathing it out— all the while you both stare into each other's gaze. But as soon as he's done with the drag, you're eyes leave his— going back to your own devices.

your character had bemused him; how one second you both are sharing an intimate moment, holding him softly and with a fondness, and the next you're behaving like nothing had ever even happened.

Carl wanted to dispel that indifference you'd been feigning— that stoic face you'd been masquerading in and out of the walls. He desired to know what was behind all those barriers of distance you'd made to keep yourself safe. He wanted to know you. The real you.

"You know, I think you're ready to take off your training wheels and do it yourself, cowboy." If it wasn't already evident in the sluggish tone, you were relaxed from the amount of puffs you'd been doing already. Lifting your hand and pulling yourself away from him, he stops you by gripping your forearm. He had never done this before, and the unfamiliarity of it had startled you— but then registering his touch had your mind involuntary give you chills in your spine. It felt good, him holding you.

Carl didn't want you to pull away; he wanted to stay forever like this, with your face close and in his space. But he'd have to start saying it before he loses the chance.

"I think I'll need a few more practice runs." He stated boldly. Carl didn't really know what he was trying to say when he blurted that out. All he knew was that he wanted to keep your face close to his. He tilted his head and looked at your lips, before looking back to meet your startled gaze— but as quickly as it had shown on your face, you painted over a mask of nonchalance.

You let out a chuckle. Carl was always one to speak his mind about things, but he always seemed timid when approaching this. You like this side of him. With your free hand, you take another drag of the cigarette before putting in out. With his gaze studying you close, you blow the smoke in his face.

He definitely didn't expect that, because he let go of you forearm and waved his hands in front of his hands to get rid of the waft of smoke from his face. Despite all of this, he still managed to laugh at it.

"Maybe another time." You dismissed. You stand up and look down at him, clueless that he'd been left in the dust. "We gotta get back before they notice, remember?" You finish fixing yourself up before reaching out a hand at his still sat position.

". . ." Carl didn't know how to feel, he looks at the hand reaching out to him and back at you. ". . .Right." He finishes his contemplation and grabs your hand, getting support from you to stand up. He pats himself down to get rid of the dirt on his pants and flannel.

"I'll start walking back. Stay close, okay?" Your voice lets out a stable tone. Hesitant, he nods and goes back to tidy himself up and the comics strewn about on the grass. With that, you turn to the direction of Alexandria and start your walk.

With you figure walking away, Carl was left to drown in his own thoughts. He felt. . . dismayed? All you did was dismiss him but he felt like you threw his heart away doing it. He knew he shouldn't feel like this. He didn't have any right to, you guys weren't anything— You guys were just friends who helped the other smoke, but he didn't want just that. He wanted more. Carl looks back at your decreasing figure before finishing up and jogging to you, matching your pace and falling in step next to you.

He's gonna say something to you about it. He doesn't know when, but he will. He can't stand just being smoking buddies with you— he wants more.

"So. . . do you wanna tell me something you've been hiding from me?" Rick's voice cuts the silence of the dinner table, overpowering the clanking and screeching of utensils against the plates. Carl's movement of taking a spoon of his food slows with his gaze locking with his father's—but then, just as swiftly, he goes back to his normal act, breaking the eye contact.

"I don't know what you mean." He tries to act and put on an air of nonchalance, playing up an act and pretending nothing had happened—just like you do when you and him are in the forest clearing. Carl had never intended for you and him hanging out outside the walls a secret; however, with the fact that his father wanted the best for his son and still tries to show good towards him, he feels like Rick wouldn't be too happy if he found out his son was going outside the gates and smoking—maybe even worse when he finds out he's doing all of that for a girl.

". . ." Rick's eyes are trained on his son in contemplation quietly, watching every calculated movement his son does to see any tick of movement that would give him the assumption of nervousness. He already knew his son was hiding something—but he didn't take him as the type to lie about it; he just wanted to see if he'd tell him the truth.

"Sure then," Rick said. "If that's the case, I guess you wouldn't mind telling me about that girl you go on prancing around outside with?" And with the question alone, Carl stops his next move and fully becomes attentive.

How did his father know? He thought he was good at keeping up his face, but that inquiry from his father left his vocabulary in shambles.

"There's no—what? I don't know what you're—listen, whatever you're trying to say, I— . . . Okay, how did you find out?" Carl blurts out before he deadpans before dropping his utensils in defeat. He figured that trying to defend himself would make things worse, so he'd rather get straight to the point. He isn't going to get anything good out of dodging his dad's interrogation, but he needs to know how he knew first before he tells him.

"It was Tara's turn to keep watch in the tower," Carl should've known. With all the teasing looks he got from her whenever she talked about girls to him and how he would listen intently, he figured maybe Tara was just in a chipper mood these days, but he guessed he was wrong.

"She saw you and the other kid climb the back walls and walk away." His father finished. Carl didn't want to explain to his father why he did it; it'll just send him into a pit of shame. But he figures he'll have to cross that bridge when his father gets to it.

"Now I'm going to ask you this again, and don't lie to me," Rick leans back in his chair, a domineering aura surrounding him. You'd think he'd look all serious and stern—but with Judith squirming and cooing in his lap, it made him less authoritarian and more father-like.

"Do you wanna tell me something you've been hiding from me?" Rick's voice lowered, wanting an actual direct answer from Carl, not the 'I don't know what-you're-talking-about' bullshit he was spewing earlier.Carl didn't know what to say. If he was going to tell his father the truth, he'd have to open up to him about you. And that's hard enough on his own, but to his dad? He doesn't know how that'll go. But it's better now than never. So with a deep, defeated sigh—he starts.

"There's a girl I hang out with, just a few minutes outside the walls from here," Carl recalls the first time you'd met each other and how he told you how smoking was going to kill you. Oh, how much he laughs in his head at the thought of that, especially since he smokes with you now. With Carl finally confessing what Rick wanted him to say, his domineering stance softens, and he adjusts Judith on his lap—who was still moving around, now trying to grab his father's finger using her hands.

"We go to a clearing, and just talk there. She's—. . ." Carl's words pause. He was unsure what to call her; it would be weird calling her an acquaintance since they know each other more than that, and it would be even more peculiar to come out of his mouth calling her a friend—knowing what they've done together.

"She's something else." He finished. There wasn't a word that they could call what they were, and Carl couldn't think of one for the life of him. She really was something else.

"Well—I thank you for being honest with me that time," Rick adjusts himself to help Judith sit properly. "But I wanna know something else." He breathes softly through his nose, readying himself to ask.

"Why?" From the start, when the world fell to shit, Rick knew his son wouldn't be the same as he was before—his character would grow up to be more mature and stoic, having to leave the childlike nature he shortly had and take over this stone-faced disposition. He was forced to forget he was just a boy.

But, with the time that he'd been with that girl, Rick noticed Carl would be less tense, he'd laugh more, and he'd even let out a genuine smile without worry. Something that you had whenever you were with him had turned him back and made him experience what it felt like just to be a teenager. What it felt like to not be always vigilant, just relaxed and content.Carl was left speechless. Just like he couldn't think of what to call what you and him were, he didn't know why he was hanging out with you. Well, he did know; he just didn't want to say it. If he did, he'd have to acknowledge how all of your experiences with him in the forest were something more for him.

"I—I just, like her. She's good company." That was all Carl could say, before scooping another morsel of food and eating it. One confession mixed with another and a half-assed excuse. He knew his father was better to believe just that, but he also knew he wouldn't prod at him anymore.

Rick could read his son like a book. He knew that wasn't just the reason; that girl had done so much for him that Carl didn't even realize it, and he knew his son would think much more about what she was to him, but he knew Carl should let him figure it out himself—rather than condemning him for it. With a fatherly chuckle, he leans a little with the toddler in his arms to pat his son on the shoulder, letting a gentle squeeze.

"I bet she is. But tell her something before you do something stupid." That was all his father said before standing up and bringing Judith with him, walking up to the front door—presumably to sit on the porch with her. Carl seemed to notice that. With the amount of walls they were in, he saw his father felt safe enough to just enjoy the smallest of things, like how he'd just enjoy being with his daughter.

But after finishing his pondering about his father, his father's words rang in his head. 'Tell her something.' Should he? One side of his heart that still believed there was good in this world—how there is still hope in this—told him he should; he should tell her everything he wanted to let out—how entrancing her lips were when they were inches apart from his, how her presence alone could calm all the thundering thoughts pounding in his brain.

But the other side of his that was marred, cynical, and closed-off tells him he shouldn't; well, everything was going great for them, so why should he have the audacity to let himself ruin it? If he did something to shatter that with you, ruin the experiences you already had with him and in the future that you'd have with him just because he decided to do something he wasn't even sure if you'd reciprocate—he'd never forgive himself.

Carl was a mess, and he knew he was. All his thoughts were drowning in confusion just because your person was so enthralling. Your carefree personality and how you let him do the things he thought he could've never done—you were everything he wanted. He wanted you so badly.

But how would he tell you? You seemed so close, yet so distant. All those memories of being close with him and talking about the most nonsensical topics just for the sake of keeping the conversation going were layered on by the other set of events that follow—how after everything you've been through with him, you seemed to shut down—how you didn't allow yourself to get too comfortable with anyone, even him. How whenever you and him pause to get lost in each other's gaze, you flutter your eyes and pull away.

You looked afraid—you seemed to abhor letting people in, seeing who you were when you were vulnerable. Carl despised it. How it felt like you were close and far at the same time, all together. It was like you guys were at a standstill, and he wanted to stop the limbo your character put your relationship in. He needed an answer from you, even if it had the chance of breaking whatever you guys had with each other.

He dropped his fork. God damn it, with all the brainstorming in his mind about how to approach the thought of telling you, he had lost the appetite to eat. With a frustrated sigh, he picks up both his and his father's plates to put in the sink—going to wash it. He'll have to dwell on it later. Right now, he needs to distract himself from the mindless routine of washing the dishes—just to take his mind off it, off of you.

With the passing of the cigarette smoke, Carl looks back at your face. He wonders if he should listen to the wise words of his father and tell her the truth. But he's scared. He laughs at the thought; after all these years of living and surviving through this wretched apocalypse and off all things, the one thing he was most scared of was losing you. It was ridiculous to him; he's done heinous acts just to keep going in this cycle of life—yet he thinks that confessing what he felt to you would be the end of his world.

"What's wrong, you look?" You tilt your head in inquiry, visibly confused. Carl didn't even notice that you'd seen him staring at you, observing you like this would be the last time he'd ever see you.

"Sad. Or you could just be constipated with how concentrated you look."

Even with the amount of things he's been feeling about you and pondering the aftermath of what could happen if he told you—you still managed to make him let out a chuckle.

"I was thinking." Carl huffs a breath out. He was thinking, thinking of what you'd say. Without skipping a beat, you follow up on what he had said. "Thinking about what?"

As you ask, you take a drag of the lit stick of tobacco and gently grab his chin, just like you always did. No matter the repetitiveness, he'll always welcome that hazy feeling of you getting close.

But before you get to exchange the smoke in your mouth, he places his hand over yours that was holding him, looking at you with such a focus that could burn through your eyes. With his action, your movements halt from being startled, and you involuntarily let the puff in your mouth out slowly.

"This." Carl looked into your gaze. Just like the last time you were this close, you had pulled away. But you aren't sure if you'd like that. "I was thinking about you."

With the confession leaving the tip of his tongue, your face formed a light flush. Carl was always forward with you about things, but never this upfront about his feelings for you. Contrary to his belief, you know. You knew what he felt, ever since he had started to smoke with you.

Even though he was going through the same burden as you, he felt like he had to be there with you first. You hated it. You didn't hate Carl; you hated how you felt about it and how it felt with him. How you let the walls of your heart come down when it came to him, even after everything that you swore would never break. With a doubtful look slowly painting your face, you can't help but try to distance yourself from him.

"Oh. That's. . . interesting." With a heavy feeling, your vision goes to anywhere but his, finally breaking the chain of eye contact you'd been sharing in the blanket of silence. "I've been thinking too, about— stuff." You had muttered awkwardly, saying anything that comes out of your mind, just to fill the awkward silence.

"You think you can tell me?" Even with your eyes off him, you can still feel his perceptive gaze. Carl didn't want you to crawl back into that timid disposition you always had put up; he wanted you to open up to him—let him in that mind of yours.

"If I say it," you paused. "It's going to ruin everything." Your voice had barely let out the last sentence, your tone trembling. Your heart wanted to tell Carl everything—how your body felt flush whenever he did something to gauge a reaction from you, how you wanted his body near you—not just from helping him smoke—but more than that.

But would saying what you had wanted ruin the relationship that was one of the only highlights of surviving in this apocalypse? Will saying what you had dreamed of saying destroy what he had thought of you?

But with your self-doubt clouding your mind and making your body still, you had barely registered the warmth of Carl's hand on yours, holding it with such care you'd think of it more of an intimate gesture. With a gentle call of your name, he assures you.

"Hey, nothing you do will ruin—" Carl paused, unsure if he should state it as what they are. Friends? He isn't even sure at this point. "-will ruin us, okay? I won't get mad."

"I'm not expecting you to be mad," you counter. "I expect that you'll feel betrayed." You finished. If Carl didn't reciprocate what you felt, you were sure he'd be confused. Would he think that all you did with him was just an elaborate ruse to get him closer to you? You weren't certain, but you had an idea it would go down that route if he did.

"If you aren't sure how to tell me, then show me." Carl tilts his head, coyly lacing his time. Whenever he does those mannerisms, you always thought he looked cute. He didn't look like a stone-faced killer that was brought upon this apocalypse anymore, but just a teenager going through regular stuff, feeling normal things.

With that, you contemplate. You were irritated at yourself for not saying anything; it was as if your heart was in your mouth—disabling you from telling what you desired. But with a deep breath, you lean in close to Carl—his eyes going wide for a second, then adjusting to this newfound distance.

Carl knows he shouldn't be nervous; you've been in his vicinity close to him like this dozens of times. But with this unexplored feeling brewing in his stomach, he feels like he should be—because you were going to do something else.

"Don't—don't freak out, okay?" Your voice is so close to him, it makes his ears flush red. He's lucky he had long hair; he was sure you'd tease him for it if you had seen them.

The tension felt thick, just like all the times you had been close to his lips, mere centimeters away. Sometimes you wish that the times you were that close you'd just lean in and kiss him, but inevitably you always pull away.

And just like that, you realize that your embarrassment gets the better of you again. You pull away slowly; you think this is stupid. You shouldn't have done that. You turn away, one of your hands covering your face that was starting to burn up.

"I-uh, sorry, I think I should go back, yeah. I'm sorry—" Your face turned back to his. But before you could let out another apology, a pair of soft lips had met yours, your eyes fluttering shut.

Carl had kissed you. You had dreamt of what it felt like to kiss him. But now that it was actually happening, you felt so surreal. With a hesitant state, you tested the waters and kissed him back, a light push to see what it felt. His lips were chapped, understandable since chapstick didn't seem like a necessity in the apocalypse, but his lips felt gentle.

When you felt the absence of soft pressure on your lips, you fluttered your eyes at him. You were sure your cheeks were burning at this point; it was uncontrollable. Once you guys were at a normal sitting distance from one another, you finally piped up.

"That was, uh, good." Your voice barely above a whisper. Both your gazes found one another, and then, with heat creeping up your neck, you had looked away.

"Thank you, I guess...?" Confusion had still not left your tone. With this, you were also perplexed by your own words. What were you thankful for?

"Why are you thanking me?" Carl's voice didn't seem to miss a beat, going back to his playful self. You were thankful for this—how he could always help lighten your guys' mood even when it was awkward.

"I don't know, okay!" You let out a genuine laugh. "I've never had to think about what to say after. . . that." Your eyes met his. He seemed to have a glint in his eye, telling you all you needed to know that he was planning something mischievous.

"Well. . ."

"Yeah. . ."

This was one of the things that made you abhor having to actually commit to kissing him—the aftermath. What would become of you and Carl? Would it be just unbearably awkward, and you'd never have enough courage to look him in the face again? Or would it help express your blossoming feelings towards you and him?

"I've always liked you, y'know?" Carl speaks up first—his tone soft and careful, breaking the silence you both have been dreading. But with just a few words of confession, he seemed to melt through that weird tension that had permeated through the space between you.

"I know—or like I. . . knew, I guess?" Your voice comes out meek, nervous about what was still happening.

His face went slack—his face contorting to shock and embarrassment, with a noticeable flush of red rising up his ears.

"Wait wha-? How did you even-what. . .?!" His voice was getting higher, something you picked up on when he was getting nervous.

With a small giggle, you answer his question. "It doesn't take a detective to find out you like me, Carl. You were quite obvious." Your face grows a smirk, creating a playful atmosphere.

He looks away with another wave of shyness. This was disastrous. Was he really that obvious? "It couldn't have been that obvious." With a slow turn, he looks back at you. ". . .right?"

"Do you really think you were that slick? You looked." You paused, unsure whether to say what actually was on your mind. He looked in love, but you figured you shouldn't—it would be too fast.

". . . nevermind. It's just that eyes don't lie, Carl, and the way you look at me—it seems very telling." You end your sentence with a smile. With everything out of the bag, you felt light as a feather—with nothing left to hide from him.

"If you knew then, why did you stop?"

"What?" His question seemed vague, out of nowhere.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" Carl was sure you could tell his heartbeat going haywire, feeling the vibration of it beating up to the tips of his ears. He sounded so desperate, but he didn't care. All he wanted right now was an answer.

"Oh! Uh. . ." You didn't expect how much he looked like he was yearning, waiting for something, anything from you. Saying you were scared would be embarrassing, but with everything you and Carl already did, there didn't seem like anything else to do but go forward and be honest with him.

"It's a stupid reason," you say, looking up at him, with bashfulness filling your face.

Without skipping a beat, Carl's hand had already gone to yours to intertwine. He didn't seem to know it, but that simple gesture was already melting away that air of dread that was coercing you to not say it.

"If what you're going to say is stupid, then what does that make what we did?" His eye had a glint of wit that he always had when he wanted to cheer you up, encouraging you to go on.

With your free hand and the still-lit cigarette in hand, you take a long drag. It was funny to you how this small stick of nicotine used to be the only thing of happiness that helped you get through it—to go on and keep living. But now, the thing that was your hope and joy in this world was right next to you. 

"A bad idea?" You finally answer his rhetorical question.

With a dry chuckle, he looks to you and just gazes. He never thought that you'd feel the same way, let alone reciprocate kissing him. He felt like the happiest he's ever been since coming to Alexandria.

"I felt," Your mouth opens to let out another word, but you shut it quickly. Taking a deep breath and looking at the sky. "Afraid and. . . guilty is what I'd put as how I felt about you, I guess."

"Why would you feel that way?"

"'Cause it's you!" You look back at him, incredulous, and your hands gesture to his whole character.

"You and me, we were cool, y'know? And we just hung out; everything was going fine, and I didn't want to ruin. . ." You then gestured to both of you. "This, I suppose."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. I told you it was stupid." You look back at the golden hour of the sky, then just slump. It felt freeing telling him that, but it also filled you with shyness. This whole situation just made you want to get eaten by walkers alive and just sink into the world.

"I don't think it's stupid." His free hand goes to fix the loose hair that fell to your face and tuck it to your ear. The fact that his hand was ever so close to your face had your skin burn up so fast you're sure he already sees your skin blushing.

"I think it's cute."

Your eyes went shocked, but then quickly roll your eyes at the cheesy reply.

"Oh, just shut it already." You both giggle and simply bask in the playful mood that was created.

"No, I'm c'mon seriously!"

"You being 'serious' isn't you laughing, Carl." You smile and laugh as you say your quip. With a smile on his face and a shake of his head, you continue your tyrant of laughter.

But your laughter had come to a halt when he had lifted his head and held both your wrists, and he had said your name. "I like you, okay? You're so good to me, and you're such a comfort to come to when I need solace, and I just. . ."

As if the tables had turned, now he was the one losing his words, them dying at his throat.

"I just need you; is that enough? Can I please be with you?"

"If I ever say no to that, I think I'd need a checkup from our clinic."

Your response went out as fast as he had asked, eager and happy that he had finally decided that he wanted to be with you.

"Yes, I mean." With a final look from one another just looking into each other's gaze full of love and admiration, you both take a shy push in and finally kiss again, something you think you'll never grow tired of. But Carl pulls away just a breath away from your lips, wanting to get one last word in that he knows you won't ever forget—before he goes back in for more.

"I'm never gonna let you go."

woowee!! it's been a hot minute since I've posted! sorry guys for all of the people that were waiting for me to post when I never did, right now I've been really into my academics and I'm elbow deep into like 4 pending submissions to pass next week lolol!!11 anyways sorry for the rambling, I hope you enjoyed reading! ✮⋆˙

tags: @carlslvr @shadowybasementmiracle @kawliflo @xictoriiaa

wanna be tagged the next time I post my fics? let me know ꩜ .ᐟ

[whywolfprincess]

If you think that you don't need to care about others, and think carcinogenic secondhand smoke isn't a problem for babies or pets, or think that asthma is an skill issue -

Go suck on an car exhaust if you love smoke so much.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

HEAR ME OUT!! ollie thinking felix is single right, hanging out at oxford and everything and then one night felix is nowhere to be seen and he finds him with a girl. turns out feliz is vv much not single but ollie knows her as the smart girl of the school so he's shocked by the pairing?!?!?!

Who would've thought? || Felix Catton x reader

A/n: I actually hate how I did this but oh well, also, my first felix catton fic did so well so quickly!!!! so happy you guys enjoyed it :)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, drinking, idk rlly im so bad w my warnings 😭

Wc: 764

Felix Catton Masterlist

"Gorgeous, isn't he?" Your voice causes Oliver to flinch as he whips his head to where the sound of your voice came from. "W-what-" He stammers. You giggle at his behaviour, taking a long drag from the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stepping on it.

"I see the way you stare at him, Ollie. I don't blame you though, he's a sight for sore eyes," You sigh, leaning your head against the wall, watching Felix with his friends.

Oliver didn't know what to say. He only stared at you before gravitating his gaze back to Felix. Oliver knew you as one of the smartest girls at school, your grades rivalling with his.

"You can admit it. He's gorgeous." You open your mouth again, turning your head at Oliver with a grin. He gulps. "I-uhm-" He began before you interrupt him, "Come on, Ollie" Your tone was playful.

"He's gorgeous." Oliver quickly replied as you smile. You push yourself off the wall, patting Ollie's shoulder before leaving him standing there dumbfounded.

~

"Fuck!" You curse as you feel the hot liquid cascade down your front. You let out a loud groan, throwing your coffee cup in a nearby bin. "I'm so sorry-" "It's fine! Completely fine," You mutter to the idiot who bumped into you because his eyes was trained on a book.

You let out a deep sigh, checking your watch. You would be late if you turned back around to change. "Hey! Y/n!" You hear a voice call out from behind you. Turning your head you spot Oliver coming your way on his bike.

“Hey?” you greet him with a hint of confusion. Without a word, he unzips his backpack, pulling out a plaid shirt. “Wear this to cover the spill,” he suggests, a warm smile accompanying the gesture. You conceal any distaste with a subtle expression, graciously accepting the offered shirt.

“Uhm-” “Just return it later when you can,” he cuts you off, not giving you time to answer before riding off. You stand there, looking down at the plaid shirt, before letting out a sigh and slipping it on.

“Cute shirt, babe,” your boyfriend chuckles, and you respond with an eye roll, sitting down with a loud huff escaping your lips. “Don’t even. Some idiot bumped into me on the way here,” you mutter, opening your notebook aggressively.

Farleigh strolls in, joining the two of you, “Woah, loving the shirt, y/n. Where’d you get it from? The charity shop?” He jokes, prompting you to scowl at him. He raises his hands in surrender as Felix’s chuckles resonate beside you.

“Jesus, what’s got your panties tied up in a knot?” he laughs, taking a seat beside you while you choose to ignore him. Suddenly, Felix exclaims, “Oh, shit! Farleigh, we gotta go. Professor Davies wants to see us,” checking his watch before swiftly getting up.

Farleigh vents his frustration with a groan, “Sorry, babe. See you later?” Felix plants a kiss on your cheek, and you nod in response, waving the two boys off before redirecting your focus to the notebook in front of you.

“Hey,” you raise your head to find Oliver approaching. Flashing a warm smile, you greet him with a friendly, “Hi Oliver,” your attention briefly returning to your book as he stands there, exuding a hint of awkwardness.

“I’ll make sure to return your shirt once it’s washed,” you reassure him, receiving a silent nod in acknowledgment. Returning to your book, you shift your attention back to him, “Is there anything else you need?” He nervously scratches his neck. “Do you mind if I study with you?” His question catches you slightly off-guard.

“Absolutely, feel free,” you graciously respond, rearranging your belongings to create space for him to settle. A warm smile graces his face as he takes the offered seat, expressing gratitude with a simple “Thanks.” You reciprocate with a light chuckle, assuring him, “No problem at all.”

~

“He is such a nerd,” Farleigh snorts as you roll your eyes, your fingers moving to play with Felix’s necklace around his neck. Noticing your quietness, Felix looks at you on his lap. “You okay?” He says quietly as you hum, taking a sip out of his glass, before pressing your cheek against his, your eyes wandering around the table.

“I should probably go now, I don’t wanna study too late,” You let out a quiet sigh as you get up from your boyfriend’s lap. Felix lends a helping hand to adjust your skirt, smoothly guiding the denim down while playfully patting your ass, accompanied by a mischievous grin.

“Where are you going? It’s still so early!” Annabel shoots you a disapproving frown from across the table. “I really need to study for that test tomorrow,” you respond, the playful boos from others resonating as you playfully roll your eyes.

“Listen, I’ll buy the next round yeah?” Your offer is met with enthusiastic hoots as you chuckle. Rounds tend to be costly, especially with our group, but being part of a wealthy family, the expense doesn’t faze you.

Felix joins you in fetching the drinks before you wave at your group and make your exit. Outside, the cool night air embraces you as you walk down the stairs, and a twinge of regret sets in over your choice of attire.

Lost in thought, you accidentally collide with someone. Looking up, you find yourself face to face with Oliver, whose initial surprise transforms into recognition. “Oh, Oliver, hey,” you manage a smile, and he reciprocates it warmly.

“Hey. You headin’ back?” He gestures behind him with his thumb, and you nod, “Yeah, studying for that test we have tomorrow morning.” A chuckle escapes you as he nods, an awkward silence settling between the two of you.

“Is it, uh, busy in there?” Oliver speaks up. “Hm? Oh. Uhm, no, not really,” you shake your head. Another moment of silence follows. “Listen, Ollie, I should really get going,” you purse your lips as he moves aside. “Yeah, of course,” he offers you a warm smile, and you nod your head, walking away.

~

Over the course of the next couple days. Felix and Oliver had become very good friends. You would hear Felix’s recounts of his day when the two of you were entangled in each others arms and it always included Oliver.

The party rolled around and you found yourself dancing with Felix, your ass on his crotch as the two of you seamlessly moved to Sexyback.

With one hand cradling a red plastic cup filled with alcohol, and the other clasping a partially smoked cigarette, Felix guided your hips skillfully, his touch resting casually on your hipbone.

“You look so fuckin’ hot,” Felix exclaimed loudly over the music as you smirk to yourself, already abit tipsy. “Do you wanna go somewhere?” You reply back to him, turning around as he eagerly nods.

You giggle to yourself, knowing what the rest of the night would consist of. Fucking Felix. You stumbled as Felix pulled you along the house. “Fuck, these heels,” You moan in annoyance.

Eager to reach his dorm quicjly, Felix scooped you up in a bridal carry, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. A light squeal escaped you, drawing the attention of those around, their curious stares following the two of you.

The second he shut the door behind him, your clothes littered his room as he ravenously attacked your lips, his hands roaming around your body as you let out quiet moans, enjoying the way they groped every inch of your body.

Meanwhile, Oliver was roaming around the party, completely and utterly bored. He first wandered around looking for someone he knew, but that was only three people. You, Felix, and Michael. Michael wouldn’t even be there, so just you or Felix.

Acknowledging the fact that neither you or Felix were here, Oliver’s gaze fell on Farleigh at the other end of the room. With a joint in hand, reclining on the couch, Oliver decided to test his luck and headed in Farleigh’s direction.

“Do you know where Felix is?” Farleigh looks Oliver up and down before raising an eyebrow at him. “Why do you wanna know?” His tone was flat, bored from talking with Oliver already.

“Just wonderin’,” Oliver shrugged awkwardly. Farleigh, taking a long drag, nonchalantly answered, “He went back to his dorm, I think,” his tone uninterested as he flicked ash from his joint.

“Thanks,” Oliver nods his head before turning around. The walk to Felix’s dorm was all too familiar for him, often spending time there whenever he and Felix hung out.

He knocks on the door. No response. He knocked again. Still no response. Oliver then tried the door handle, twisting it only to find it unlocked. Opening the door with a loud creak as his eyes look around the dimly lit interior of Felix’s room.

“Felix-“ Oliver cuts himself off as he realises what he just walked in on. A feminine gasp reached his ears as he instinctively tried to avert his gaze. “For fuck’s sake, mate!” Felix’s irritated voice resonated, accompanied by the rustling of sheets in the room.

Felix quickly moves to cover the both of you as you screw your eyes shut. “Can’t you fuckin’ knock Ollie?” Felix exasperates as he slips on his boxers, his frame still covering you from Ollie’s eyes.

"Sorry, the door was unlocked, so I thought-" Oliver began, but Felix cut him off, "Yeah, well, you thought wrong," accompanied by an annoyed chuckle. You reached for Felix's shirt, slipping it on as you sat on the bed.

Oliver couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity at who Felix was fucking; there was no denying it. It couldn’t have been Annabel or India—two girls he's often heard talking about Felix as if they were together—both of them were at the party when he left. So who was it? “Seriously mate. If I don’t answer, I’m either not here or don’t want to answer,” Felix runs his hands through his hair.

He was very bothered that he was interrupted. Felix hated being interrupted in the middle of things. Especially sex with you. “Felix, it’s okay,” You rest your hand on his shoulder as he looks back at you.

Oliver's jaw hung open, frozen in a momentary state of shock, as your head playfully emerged beside Felix. His eyes widened as he tried to process the unexpected sight before him. A cascade of questions flooded his mind, evident in the incredulous expression on his face. "Hi, Ollie," you greeted with a light chuckle, amusement dancing in your eyes as you observed his stunned reaction.

The air seemed charged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as Oliver stammered through his words, attempting to articulate the myriad of questions racing through his mind. "I- What- Are you two-" he fumbled, his sentences colliding in his attempt to understand the situation unfolding before him.

Felix, ever nonchalant, cut through the awkward tension with a matter-of-fact tone. "She's my girlfriend," he stated, his words hanging in the air. As if to emphasize the point, you casually moved to sit on Felix's lap.

A moment of stunned silence enveloped Oliver. Felix had a girlfriend, and it was you. The revelation hit him with unexpected force, leaving him momentarily breathless. Questions swirled in his mind, and he couldn't comprehend why no one had ever mentioned it before.

"Why do you look so shocked, Ollie?" Felix chuckled, a lighthearted tone in his voice, while you added to the teasing atmosphere with a playful giggle. You could practically sense Oliver's head spinning with the unasked questions, creating an intriguing air of mystery around the situation.

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise as he processed the unexpected pairing. He released a nonchalant shrug, attempting to mask the internal whirlwind of thoughts.

"No one’s ever said anything about it, I just assumed you both were single," he admitted, his eyes fixed on you and Felix. Oliver's head continued to shake in a subtle attempt to grasp the reality of you being in a relationship with Felix.

A faint smile played on your lips as you tilted your head at him, a touch of amusement in your gaze. "You never asked," you pointed out casually, your words hanging in the air. Oliver's lips formed a perfect 'O' as he absorbed the implication, silently nodding in acknowledgment.

The room was then engulfed in an awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the atmosphere. Sensing the discomfort, Oliver took the initiative to break the tension. "Uhm, I should get going," he announced, his hand absently scratching the back of his head. Felix, understanding the unspoken cue, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, go ahead."

Oliver's lips pursed, his gaze flickering between you and Felix, caught in a moment of realization. With a slightly awkward smile, you innocently waved at him. "Bye, Ollie!" you chimed in a light-hearted manner, attempting to alleviate the awkwardness as he leaves the dorm.

Felix couldn't hide his amusement. "You really didn't tell him?" he asked, breaking the silence with a playful smile as he looked down at you. In response, you innocently shrugged. "I didn't think it was that necessary to bring it up, besides, he really never asked."

[peachesofteal]

Simon discovers something unexpected:

Light on masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader (single mom)

The first time Simon meets you, it’s on the rooftop of the apartment building in the middle of the morning.

He’s up here for a smoke, his first in hours, his body anxiously craving the nicotine after sitting on a cramped train for too long after the final debrief. His muscles are sore, stitches in his leg bothering him, mind is exhausted, and all he wants to do is smoke a cigarette and then collapse on the bed inside the flat that he hasn’t seen for months.

When he gets to the roof, after climbing four flights of stairs because the bloody elevator is broken, he’s greeted with two surprises. One, there is a garden up here now, multiple raised beds enclosed in sturdy two by sixes, and two… you are kneeling on the brick between them.

You’re on your knees, digging around, dirt smudged on your clothes, purple garden gloves caked with soil. You’re talking aloud too, rooting around in the plants and singing out names of vegetables and their corresponding colors, occasional pulling something green loose and stuffing it in a bag. He glances around the roof, confused, but sees no one but you, your voice carrying on the wind to where he stands by the clunky metal door.

When he gets closer, he realizes you’re not talking to yourself at all, but to a baby. A tiny baby tucked into a carrier, who’s eyes are wide and somewhat tracking your hand movements while you point to things in the garden bed, in the sky, on the ground.

“And this is a parsnip.” You say, brushing some rust-colored earth from the root and turning it in your hand. “They’re not very tasty raw but aren’t terrible cooked.” The baby watches you in awe, little feet and arms kicking and swinging while you smile and nod at them, like you think they understand anything you’ve just said. “Yeah! A parsnip!” You’re smiling, your face is bloody radiant as you nod down to the baby, one of your hands rubbing dirt from your skin onto your pants before you’re reaching out to grab a cloth from the baby’s lap and mopping up something on their chin. The action causes you to shift, your head turning enough to catch him in your peripherals, body tensing like you’ve been frozen, shoulders raising under your ears before you loosen and relax, squinting up at him in the sun. “Hi.” You blink, glancing back down to the carrier. “I uh, didn’t realize anyone else was up here.” He swallows, trying to give you a response, brain fracturing at the seam as it frantically attempts to recall words, civilian words like hello, or hi, or sorry. It’s difficult, because he’s a little distracted by how the light refracting in your eyes, the way it’s shining on your skin and hair, bathing you in the early morning glow like you’re some sort of angel. He’s still a few feet away, but he thinks he can see entire universes in your irises, every color ever imagined shimmering in the rays of the sun.

His brain finally catches up, and his mouth thankfully remembers how to form words.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.” He’s polite and you shrug, nodding to your little companion.

“You’re not disturbing us. We were just harvesting some vegetables.” You smile brightly, casually stripping off the gloves while you rock up from your knees into a standing position. If the mask bothers you, you don’t outwardly show it, and your posture is relaxed when stand in front of him. “Isn’t that right, Emmaline?” You coo down to the baby, who wiggles in her carrier as a response, face lighting up at the sound of your voice, or her name. He’s not sure. Do you live here? Are you… her mum? The babysitter? Who are you?

You give him a once over, briefly, and he watches your smile shift from genuine to forced when your eyes land on his hands. The smokes. He’s holding a pack of cigarettes in one hand, and you clear your throat, brushing some dirt off the front of your clothes. “We were actually just finishing up.” You bend at the waist to pull the carrier into the crook of your elbow, supporting its weight with your hip, and slide the handles of the bag full of green things onto your opposite shoulder. “Roof’s all yours.” He feels a pang of regret, like he doesn’t want you to go, the sentiment unnatural to him, unsettling. You obviously live in the building, he thinks. But where? Do you lug that carrier up and down the steps all the time, just to get up here? He frowns.

“I can wait.” He tries to stop you, guilt running thick in his veins, and you shake your head.

“It’s lunchtime anyway.” You incline your head to little Emmaline, who’s face is growing a little scrunchy, like she’s upset, and he swallows.

“Alright, then.” You give him another nod, and head off towards the door. He grits his teeth, fingers tensing around the thin carboard in his hand, the little box holding his salvation safely in its grasp, but his eyes slide to where you walk away, and he can’t help but notice the way the carrier lightly bumps against your hips as they sway. Bloody hell.

[un-lawliet]

WHAT IF teen!Gojo and teen!reader are best friends teetering on the edge of lovers but they get into a petty little argument and start ignoring each other right???? so reader goes on a date with someone else to be petty and Gojo internally freaks out. So, him and his friends get in disguises as Gojo tries to sabotage the date without being noticed but instead he accidentally helps the other guy look great and impressive every time💀

Geto, shoko, and Nanami don’t help Satoru. They just watch and laugh😭 good fluffy ending though pls

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST !!!!! i loved this idea so so much- i kinda tweaked the request slightly but i hope this is ok <3 i love you and thank you for your patience !

“Normal”

- in which you’re on a date with someone that isn’t Gojo.

“Does this count as stalking?”

It absolutely did count as stalking.

Gojo, Shoko, Nanami and Geto were currently huddled in a dimly lit booth hunkering down as to not be seen by you…or your pompous looking date sat opposite you.

“It’s not stalking.” Gojo splutters, glaring at Geto through the top of his sunglasses, “It’s just..just-”

“You tracking Y/N down and making us watch her on a date.” Shoko muses, rolling a cigarette between her fingers, reaching for her lighter.

“Exactly!”

Nanami groans, his head falling backwards, hair falling over the curve of his eyebrows, hiding his face slightly.

Shaking his head, a small grin dances across Geto’s calm face, watching as Gojo pouts and glares at your table, eyes completely trained on your face.

“‘S’not even that good looking, she just has a thing for guys that flatter her.” He grumbles under his breath, flicking the fancy wall he leaned on.

“Think most girls enjoy feelin’ pretty Gojo.” Shoko replies, hand still feeling around in her pocket, “Oh fuck sakes, I’ve lost my lighter…Hey- Geto, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare one on ya?”

Geto nodded, tossing her a purple lighter from across the table, smiling gently as she thanked him.

“You shouldn’t smoke inside.” Nanami mutters, now staring down at the menu in-front of him, finger tracing along the prices in thought, seeming to pause on the brownie section.

“No one can see, we’re fine.” She sighs, taking a drag and blowing it towards Gojo, grinning as he dramatically clutches his chest, gasping for air.

“What’s the point of us even being here Gojo.” Nanami huffs, side eyeing the bakery stand parallel to their table.

“Because, I need to show her that this..this loser is nothing compared to me!”

“I don’t know Satoru.” Geto muses, taking a sip of his camomile, “Y/N seems pretty into him.”

“Suguru!” Gojo gasps in horror, betrayal dripping from his voice and on to the curve of his disgusted face.

Shoko wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, inhaling before continuing. “He has a point Gojo, I mean look, you ever see her smile like that?”

Gojo whips his head around to stare at you, and Shoko covers her mouth to hide a poorly restrained giggle, sharing a glance with Geto.

“I make her smile like that- She smiles like that with me!!” He whines, and Nanami rolls his eyes.

A waitress smashes a glass from behind the café’s counter, you jump slightly in your seat and turn to look over at the sound, you don’t notice the group of strange looking teenagers ducking down at your movement, concealing themselves poorly in their seats.

Your date laughs at you, you blush and turn back to him bashfully, excusing yourself for being so on edge.

Gojo glares.

“So what’s the plan then Gojo.” Nanami drawls, resting his face on his palm.

“Yes! The plan!” Gojo splutters, looking away from your pretty, pretty face to look at the three of them.

He hesitates and Shoko groans.

“You do have a plan don’t you?”

“Of course I do!..So, the plan..the plan um, well-”

“He has no plan.” Geto interrupts.

“Jesus Christ Gojo.”

“Does that mean I can leave?”

“Shut up!” Gojo exclaims, “I’m thinking give me a second would ya?”

“Nanami if your leaving I’m coming with you.”

“Wanna go now Shoko?”

“Guys!”

Gojo slumps forward in his chair, his face resting on the table as he whines.

Geto rests a hand on his back and chuckles, shaking his head at the two other sorcerers.

“It’s ok Satoru, we can all figure something out ‘kay?”

“Yea?” Gojo replies, his voice muffled by the table.

“Yea.”

Instantly, Gojo springs up, his eyes as wide as his smile.

“Ok let’s brainstorm.” Geto suggest, his voice like honey as he removes his hand from Gojo’s back and reaches back to his tea.

“What if we spill tea over him!” Gojo gasped, pointing towards the cup in Geto’s hand, a sharp look crossing his face.

“Stupid. Y/N would see us.” Shoko grumbles.

“No- See Shoko, the point of a brain storming session means we make suggestions and listen without judgement.” Gojo argues, crossing his arms.

“Yea but your idea was stupid.” Nanami concludes, watching as Shoko nods.

“You suggest something then Nanamin!”

“I’m suggesting nothing, this whole idea is foolish.”

“OoOoh “Foolish” is it?”

“I’m leaving.”

Nanami stands up reaching for his bag, scowling at Gojo.

“Hey, hey Nanami c’mon ignore him he’s just..” Geto pauses with a quick regard to Gojo, “He’s just Satoru.”

“An idiot.” Shoko chimes.

“Yes, an idiot.”

Nanami sighs as he sits down, placing his brown bag back at his feet reluctantly ignoring Gojo’s grin.

“…What if we trip up the waitress as she’s bringing them their food.” Shoko suggests, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

“That could work!”

“No, Satoru, that just causes trouble to the waiting staff.”

“And?”

Geto rolls his eyes, “We don’t need to cause anyone any trouble just because you’re too afraid to just ask Y/N out.”

“I am not afraid!” Gojo moans, putting his face in his hands.

“Uh huh, that’s why you fell out with her when she told you about the date.” Shoko laughs, wiping off ash from her arm.

“What was I supposed to do?” Gojo queries, frowning.

“Talk to her?” Nanami deadpans, “Like a normal person.”

“Our Gojo isn’t normal though.” Shoko winks, nudging an unamused Nanami.

“Focus guys.” Geto says, clapping his hands twice to draw attention.

Your sweet laugh echoes through the cafe, and Gojo pouts, shoulders slumping.

You were supposed to be sitting opposite him laughing.

It was supposed to be his food with which you shared.

And yet one petty argument about some random guy you had met in returning from your last mission asking you out, had ruined everything.

The shared glances between you and Gojo, how you leaned on his shoulder when you slept in classes, the way he would always keep an eye on your cursed energy when joining you in battle.

All those little moments had dissolved in the bitter moments after you informed him of your date, a small smile dancing in your eyes.

“He said I was pretty Toru’” You had said, your eyes wide, and Gojo wanted to cover the love sick gleam glistening in your eyes with his hand.

“I always think your pretty.” He mumbled, watching you cock your head in confusion.

“What was that?” You questioned, leaning towards him slightly, trying to recall his quiet words.

“Nothin’.” His curt response didn’t phase you as you moved backwards, a charming skip in your step.

“Think he sounds stupid.” Gojo was never good at expressing his true feelings, and in that moment, Gojo’s sheer panic over you leaving him overpowered his aloofness.

“You think someone thinking I’m pretty is stupid?” Your shoulders fell, and you turn to him, a small lour crossing your face.

“What? No? That’s not what I-”

“It what’s you said though Toru’” You sighed, and Gojo cursed at himself for the glimmer of insecurity that appeared to vex you in that moment.

“It���s just- Well he’s just stupid.”

“So you are calling him stupid for telling me I’m pretty.”

“No! He’s stupid! Not his words!”

“That’s the same thing Gojo!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

And now Gojo’s watching as Geto summons one of his smallest and weakest curses to push your stupid dates chair over, sunglasses off and held in his fist.

“Oh so we’re actually going with this plan? I wasn’t imagining it?” Shoko muses, stealing a forkful of Nanami’s brownie.

“Nobody else had any better ideas.” Gojo silenced, waving a hand in her direction, practically clamouring on top of Geto to watch.

“Satoru watch it, I can’t see where my curse is going with you on me.” Geto scolds, brushing the white haired man off.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Nanami’s disinterest oozes out from his voice, nudging his plate over to Shoko who smiles brightly at his offer.

Geto flexes his hand, ensuring that the curse went unnoticed by you, it ducked under a table and weaved between chair legs.

“Make sure Y/N doesn’t see it!” Gojo panics, his hand covering his mouth.

Geto pauses, and looks over his shoulder towards Gojo, eyebrow raised.

“…Sit down Satoru.”

And Gojo immediately drops, hands on his legs.

The curse bobbles over to under your dates chair, and Geto smiles, before releasing his hold.

.

.

.

The sound of your dates chair toppling over boomed through the cafe, and with a swift flick of his finger, the curse dissapears, and all four of the sorcerer’s immediately drop their heads.

“Oh my God? Are you ok?!” Your concerned voice follows, and you stand up instantly, rushing towards your date, who grins at you from the floor.

“Oops, must have slipped.” He smiles, accepting your hand in helping in up, wiping the memory of his fall off of his jeans. “At least I have a pretty lady to help me in my moment of weakness.”

You giggle, and push his shoulder, “Oh shush you tease.” Bending over to pick up his chair.

“Oh no don’t worry I got it.” Your date winks, helping you lift the chair.

“How??!?!” Gojo groans, watching you swoon, “What is happening?”

“Man.. She must really like him eh?” Shoko offers, sharing a cheeky smile with Geto.

“Maybe it’s hopeless.” Nanami chimes in, “Do you want to finish this?” He asks Shoko, gesturing to the half eaten brownie.

“Actually?”

“Yea go on, you seem to be enjoying it.”

“Maybe.” Geto cuts in, “Maybe we should just leave them be? Let it fizzle out naturally?”

“What if there is no naturally Suguru.” Gojo mopes, kicking the leg of the table.

“Gojo it’s obvious she likes you, and it’s obvious you’re both smitten.” Shoko says, her voice muffled and she finishes Nanami’s brownie.

“..You think?”

“Everyone thinks.” Nanami replies, “Haibara thought you two were dating when we first joined the school.”

“How is Haibara by the way?” Geto questioned, “Why didn’t he join us?”

“Not sure, he said something about needing more sleep before his first solo mission.”

“Isn’t that next week?” Shoko adds.

“He likes his sleep.”

“Come on guys! Focus!!” Gojo exclaims. “I’m in a dire situation here!!”

“A dire situation that could be solved with a conversation, Gojo.” Nanami rolls his eyes.

“Try the curse again Suguru.”

“Satoru it didn’t work once, it probably won’t work a second time.”

“Ugh.” Gojo slumps back, a sigh escaping his lips. “If you’re all so sure Y/N likes me, then why is she with that loser right now?”

“She probably got tired waiting for you to make a move Gojo.” Shoko replies.

“Yea the “will they, won’t they” becomes tiresome after a while.” Geto agrees, pushing his empty cup towards the middle of the table.

“Ah!” Shoko says pointing over at you.

“They’re leaving Gojo.” Nanami affirms, joining Shoko in pointing.

“What?!?” Gojo gapes, “No!”

Geto laughs, shoving Gojo to his feet, watching you leave the cafe. “Go get her Satoru.”

“But how?” Gojo moans.

“Just go!” They all exclaim, and Gojo pauses for a split second before he’s bounding towards the door.

By the time he’s outside, you’re waving goodbye to your date, promising to call him as he walks the other way.

You look happy he thinks, and suddenly feels very out of place.

Gojo’s begins to turn to go back into the cafe, admitting defeat, when he hears your voice behind him.

“Gojo?” You gasp, disbelief permeating from your voice. And Gojo freezes, turning around awkwardly to face you.

“Hi.” Gojo replied, scuffing his shoes against the ground as he approaches you, hands in his pockets attempting to appear cool.

You look at him, your mouth slightly agape as you fiddle with the sleeve of your jumper, processing his appearance.

“You followed me to my date?” You ask accusingly, glancing around.

“He didn’t offer to take you home?” Gojo chooses to ignore you, refusing to acknowledge the implication of your words.

“I told him I could go back by myself.”

“Some guy.”

“Satoru.” You pause, lifting a hand to stop him, “Why are you here?”

A car drives past the pair of you, it’s headlights cast shadows across his perfect face and your hold yourself back from staring.

He stalls, looking at you for a moment. “C’mere, I’ll walk you home.”

“Satoru.”

You’re tired of his deflections, for once you just want to talk.

You both stare at each-other, silence decorating the air between you.

And Gojo shakes his head, stepping backwards and looking away.

“You look good.” He mutters.

“Good?”

“Pretty alright? You look pretty, he was right.”

“My date?”

Gojo’s sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose slightly as he leans down to look at you.

“Who else?” He muses.

You don’t understand, your heart fluttering pathetically in your chest as you prove further.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You ask, your voice light, scarce of hope.

“Because.” Gojo hesitates, hating how unsure he sounds in this moment. “Because you are.”

You step towards him, it’s a slow movement and Gojo watches you almost cautiously.

“It took me going on a date with someone else for you to finally say something?” You tease, your hands shaking despite the confidence in your words.

“Would have said something without him, y’know?”

“..Really?” Your eyes widen, a tiny grin crossing your face.

Gojo nods, and you take another step and hug him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest.

And Gojo’s smile almost hurts his cheeks as he wraps his arms around your figure, pulling you in closer.

“You’re an idiot.” You mumble, looking up at him.

“But you like me.” He replies, cockily grinning down at you, blue eyes sparkling.

“Yea, I do.” You whisper, clinging to him, moving your head backdown to face his chest, face burning with your confession.

A small kiss is placed on the top of your head and you hold back a giddy laugh, pulling away from his embrace completely.

“So…Does that mean you’ll let me take you out?” Gojo questions, taking your hand and pulling you gently along to walk with him.

“Hmm I don’t know..Are you asking?” Your head leans on his arm, grabbing his arm as you walk.

“I would take you somewhere much better than that shitty cafe.”

And you’re laughing, “You love that cafe Toru.”

And he laughs with you, a long arm circling around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

And Geto, Shoko and Nanami watch from the window of the cafe, shaking their heads.

“Idiots.” Shoko says.

“Completely.” Nanami agrees.

Masterlist <3

Feel free to leave a request !

A/N : HELLLLLOOOO PEOPLE !! ABBY’S BACK !!! thank you for the request sweets this is literally one of my favourite concepts ever I cannot cope!!!! I love teenage Gojo so much :( BUT ALSO Shoko <333333 — i hope everyone is happy and healthy, i finished this at 2am and i have school tmrw pls kill me rn i hope a car hits me when i walk in, genuinley this no longer a joke.

LOVE YOU

[ceilidho]

prompt: Ghost only takes you half-seriously when you say you want to see other people. He has just the man in mind. tags: dubcon; threesome; anal (2.5k)

-

He doesn’t so much as twitch when you stumble over your words in an effort to get it out.

“I don’t think this is working,” you say, hands clenched into trembling fists at your sides. “I think we should start seeing other people.”

The only bit of it that Ghost really pays attention to is the fact that you decided to make this little announcement while he’s in the middle of taking apart and cleaning his gun at the kitchen table. His little spitfire girl. Not a lick of fear in you, just a fistful of attitude and snark. The attitude’s ensconced now in your trepidation, a bit smothered under it, nervousness a clear trill in your voice, making it warble, but it shows itself in the downward slant of your brows. Delightful girl.

“That right?” he grunts, jamming the lubricated cotton mop into the bore of the gun. You flinch at the sudden movement, nervous eyes trained on his hands. Ghost makes a note to apologize with his mouth later on.

“Yes,” you croak, then cough to clear your throat. “I’ve, um…I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I think it’ll be better for—for both of us. It’s just…it’s not working out.”

The cigarette dangling from between his lips stinks up the room. Poor girl, he thinks pityingly when you scrunch up your nose and eye it resentfully. Always trying to get him to quit. It’s just shit luck for you that he’s never been good at quitting things, at letting anything go. Everything he’s ever lived through clings to his skin like smoke. 

He ashes it out in the little turquoise ceramic pot on the table, a trinket he’d once picked up in Tala'a Kebira years ago while in Morocco on some other business. You look marginally less irked with the cig put out, but that just means that more of his attention can focus squarely on you, which leaves you a bit wide-eyed under his stare.

“For a while, hm?” Ghost asks. It comes out teasingly, if only to him. The lilt in his voice is a tricky one to catch.

You nod; the note must have slipped through your hands like smoke. “There’s a girl I found online that’s studying abroad right now. Offered to sublet me her room while I look for a place. I thought maybe, um…maybe tomorrow I’d go.”

“Don’t worry about all of that,” he says, already dismissing the conversation from his mind. “Won’t be back for another week anyway—no reason for you to run off if I’m not even around.”

“Oh.” You shift from side to side, thinking it over. “I guess. How long will you be gone?”

“A week. Two weeks tops.” Plenty of time for him to sort out this mess. Figure out what exactly caused you to get all jumpy and eager to try out other people. 

He smiles internally. Little bird probably just can’t stand how often he’s away, poor thing. It’d be enough to make any girl upset—the constant leaves of absence, gone months without being able to send word, showing up bruised and bloody on the doorstep only to have you fall to pieces trying to put him back together. 

There are options though. He’s not opposed to adding someone new either—in fact, he has just the man in mind. 

Ghost has been holding Johnny back because he always thought you preferred to just be with one man (and Christ, the whining he’d had to deal with from Johnny, always begging to see you or begging Ghost for even just your panties, anything at all because he was so desperate and Ghost wouldn’t let him have you), but now?

Now there’s no reason to hold Johnny by the collar when he comes over for dinner. Now there’s no reason to kick Johnny from under the table when he leans just a bit too close to you when you’re sitting down to eat, eyes locked on the glimpse of your chest peeking out of your shirt and damn near drooling on it. Now there’s no reason to listen to Johnny jack himself off to the point of tears while trying to get some shut eye on a mission, the only crumpled up photo that Ghost had ever allowed him to take cupped close to his face.

He really pitied the poor mutt before, no pretty girl at home, his only crush being his superior’s girl. But Ghost is magnanimous—he’s a generous man. If you want to see other people, he has the perfect puppy for you to play with.

When you smile, still a bit unsure, he has to smother a grin. “Okay. I’ll stay ‘till then and look.”

The look Johnny gives him when he brings it up is equal parts disbelief and fevered need. “Say that again, Lt?”

“You’re coming over after we wrap this shit up. Bird’s been asking about a third.”

He chokes, scrambling to his feet. The temporary base is damp, always on the frigid side of things so Johnny’s still in uniform for the most part, the fabric rustling in his haste to get up off his bed. It’s not a place either of them are eager to spend more time in than absolutely necessary. The lack of space means that the two of them are made to bunk together as always, sharing a room with two cots and a small en suite, the tub still wet from Ghost’s shower.

“Christ, yer serious? No joke, sir?”

Johnny pushes his head back into Ghost’s hand when Ghost reels him by the hair, dropping a firm close-mouthed kiss onto the centre of his forehead through the fabric of the mask. “She was clear about it. Why? Gettin’ cold feet on me now?”

“No, sir,” Johnny protests, shaking his head as much as he can in Ghost’s grip, eyes shimmering a bit. “I can bring over a bottle o’ wine if ye like. Somethin’ fancy to set the mood.”

Their closeness is not unusual; Johnny’s always been a tactile man, favouring touch over words. One of their small similarities; their shared modes of existing in the world. There’s a line in the sand where you’re concerned that Ghost has been clear on, but he’s used to always having a hand somewhere on Soap, keeping him close. Now, he gets to keep him even closer. 

His bird really has the best ideas. 

Ghost snorts, knocks their heads together. “Just bring yourself, pup.”

He ignores the way Johnny’s breath hitches, the way he hurries into the bathroom and slams the door behind him the second Ghost lets go. The frantic eager sounds from behind the door when the water runs, only muffling the loudest of his groans. He probably had his dick choked in his fist the second the door shut, a thick nut swirling down the drain within the first five minutes. 

They ship out the next morning, exhausted from the week’s work. No amount of sleep out in the field is ever good enough, especially not in cots barely built to accommodate men of their size. Especially not Ghost. Johnny dozes off on his shoulder in the plane, sinking into a deep sleep to compensate for the hours spent tossing and turning the night before. Ghost uses the flight to get a headstart on his paperwork, enough so that he’s not held up on base when they land back home. 

He doesn’t give you a heads up that he’s home earlier than planned; no need to give you enough time to pack a bag and schlep it over to that place you’d found. It’s better for everyone if you’re caught a bit off guard, just a little frazzled. Ghost’s not entirely unsympathetic—he knows you’ll overthink things if he gives you any time to yourself. 

It’s endearing the way you gape up at him, eyes flitting between him and Johnny, when he finally makes it home. For the few times that Johnny’s been over, it’s not an everyday thing; his visits are always planned and strictly timed, Ghost monitoring him to make sure he doesn’t overstep his bounds. Seeing him with Ghost in your foyer must be strange, must put you on edge. 

“Simon, you didn’t tell me you were—” you start and then pause, swallowing. You look over his shoulder at Johnny, smile stiff, uncomfortable. “Hi Johnny.” 

You’re always a good girl, not wanting to argue in front of company. 

“Heel,” Ghost says, steel in his voice when Johnny almost lurches from his side. The other man glances over at him with wild eyes, almost on the brink of disobeying, but he holds in the end and stays put. Ghost’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “Have a nice week, pet?”

“Yes—sorry, I’m glad you’re home safe,” you say, flustered, taking his back from him to drop in the usual place in the hall. “I, um—” again, you eye Johnny nervously, unsure of how much you can say in front of him, “—I found a place…for…you know.” 

“‘Course,” Ghost agrees, shucking his boots at the door and giving Johnny a shake by his coat until he does the same. “Missed you too, pet. C’mere.” 

He muffles your protests with his mouth when he stalks forward and pulls you in for a wet kiss, rolling the mask up and off at the same time. You’re a bit stiff in his arms until he slips you some tongue and the resistance leaks out of you, helpless the second he gets his hands on you. Your eyes are still a bit misty when he pulls away, fingers clutched in the collar of his shirt like a reflex. Second nature to cling to him. His chest puffs up at the gesture.

“Thought about what you said the other week, bird, and you’re right.”

You blink, coherence coming back to you, shaking your head to divest yourself of the momentary confusion. “I am?”

“‘Course. Smartest girl in the world, isn’t she, Johnny?” Ghost asks over his shoulder, slipping a hand into your hair at the same time to hold you in place. It makes you frown, his actions not mirroring his words. 

“Aye, sir,” Johnny hums, nodding eagerly. Boots off, he stumbles forward, crowding around you from the other side, not realizing that they’ve backed you into a wall until it presses against you, trapping you in place. “Bonnie ‘n sharp as a whip. Always thought so, sir.” 

“That’s right,” he agrees, tightening his fingers in your hair until you squeal, brows furrowing in that way they do when you’re right on the precipice of pain and relief. “Only a smart, brave girl would ask for what she needs. You’re just lonely when I’m away, isn’t that right, pet?”

“I’m—I’m what?” you splutter, hands planted on Ghost’s chest, trying to push him away to no avail. He hardly notices it. 

“Go on, Johnny,” Ghost murmurs. “Since she asked so nicely. Give her a kiss.”

That’s all his mutt needs to hear. 

You huff and puff with the strain it takes to take Ghost’s cock after a week and a half away. 

You’re always tighter when he comes back, an effort to work you up to taking him again; he lets Johnny get you prepped this time, slobbering all over your pussy in his eagerness, plugging you with three fingers before you’re even close to ready. He gets off on the way you howl, rutting his cock into the sheets of your bed while he keeps you pinned by a thick arm over your stomach. 

Ghost has to scruff him after that. He takes over, running a soothing tongue over where it hurts until you cry big, fat tears and come a couple times. He makes sure you’re taken care of before it gets tough. You’re mindless by the time he moves off you to retrieve the lube from the bedside drawer, only coming back to yourself when he turns you over onto your belly and spreads the cheeks of your ass. It unwinds something in his chest to hear you yelp when he pushes a finger into your ass, like coming home. 

This is why he does what he does: to get this when the job is done. 

It’s not often he gets to do this, usually too big for you to take comfortably in your ass. Johnny’s not that much smaller, in fairness, so he works you up to two and then three fingers before lying down on the bed and pulling you over him. Your legs tremble when you straddle him, fingers digging into his chest when he lowers you onto his cock for the first time in a week. 

“There we go,” he says, grunting when you pull his chest hair a little. “That’s a good girl. We just about done crying now?” 

Ghost smiles when you shake your head stubbornly, eyes still filled with tears. “This isn’t what I meant, Simon.”

“You can cuss me out when Johnny’s done, alright? That make you happy?” 

He almost chuckles when Johnny clambers back onto the bed in his haste to get his hands back on you, his pants still hanging off an ankle until he gives it a shake once his palms fit over your waist. 

“Slowly, pup,” Ghost cautions, reaching around to spread a cheek. He coos when you flinch, whispering for you to relax. 

Johnny’s eyes roll back into his head when he pushes in, hips stuttering forward until Ghost snarls and he stops, letting out a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself down. Even for Ghost, it’s intense; you tighten around him when Johnny pushes in, only letting up when he cups your cheek and draws you down for a kiss, loosening you up with his tongue. 

“Sir, I can—fuck, fuck, fuck,” Johnny whines, back curving when he drops his head. “She’s so fuckin’ tight, I can—swear I can feel you, sir.”

He’s not wrong. Ghost swears he can feel it himself, Johnny’s cock in his pretty bird’s ass while his is stuffed deep in your cunt. You pant through the stretch, words half-croaked out, unintelligible. It’s better that way. He loves listening to you sing, but you’ve been in a right mood these past couple of weeks. Just needed a good lay to sort you out. 

“Simon,” Johnny begs, thrusting forward until he bottoms out in you, making your pulse skyrocket. “I cannae breathe.”

“Yes, you can,” Ghost says dismissively, wiping at the drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth. “Give ‘er a sec and then you can move.”

“So, so, so hot. ‘M gonna come—”

He reaches behind you to wrap a hand around Johnny’s throat, giving it a squeeze. Johnny’s eyes bulge. “You don’t get to come until she does, pup. That’s all the time, got it?” 

He doesn’t pay any mind to how Johnny nods and mumbles his little yes, sirs after that—he’s a grown man, maybe not as grown as Ghost, but man enough to compose himself until you stop trembling and sweating so hard. 

It’d been a mite difficult to wrangle you into bed. He understands. He’d let you talk yourself red in the face about this not being what you meant by ‘seeing other people’, but Ghost hears the said and the unsaid. You wouldn’t be still in his house a whole week later if you really wanted to leave. 

“Alright, pet,” he grins, running his thumb over your bottom lip until it drops open and you let him run it over your teeth. “Hang on now.”

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x muggle fem!reader

Summary: Three weeks after his devastating break up with Lily, James wanted Remus and Sirius to bring him to a muggle bar in central London.

Genre: Fluff / prequel to my fic Timeless / pt.2 Sweeter Than Fiction

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injury, intoxication

Remus has warned him him has always had a flair for the dramatics.

"I mean, why did I even like her?" James slurs loudly as he slams his whiskey glass onto the counter, white foam spilling over his hand, and he curses.

Remus rests his hand on James's arm to shush him and he glances over at Sirius with a concerned expression for their friend. "Prongs, you promised you were okay," his eyebrows quirk and, crossing his arms, he looks at James with a saddened expression.

James's eyes just narrow and he nods his head furiously, "I am okay," He insists, "I just don't understand why – "

When James flings out his arms in exasperation, his hand accidentally collides with your hip as you pass by. All the wine glasses you had been balancing on your tray suddenly shatter to the ground with a loud crash. Sirius and Remus hurry to stand as the spilled alcohol barely misses their trousers.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," You say, clearly embarrassed as you kneel down and frantically pick up the shards of glass as everyone turns to stare.

"Woah," James cries as he jumps up. Just as he starts to warn you not to hurt yourself, you cut your palm and hiss in pain. James is immediately kneeling next to you and, with a movement unusually delicate for someone so drunk, moves to hold your wrist in his hand, "Shit, that looks nasty." He mutters.

You look at him, "Yeah, it hurts like a bitch," you say plainly and stand. James drops your wrist. Sirius hands you a napkin and you press it to the wound.

James stands next to you now and you look at all three of them. "I'm sorry again, I hope I didn't spill any on you. Shit, I'm gonna lose my job for this," you look away, your hair falling in front of your eyes as you groan.

"No. Don't worry. We aren't hurt or anything, right guys?" James exclaims, again a little too aware for someone so drunk and slaps Sirius on his back.

Sirius frowns and sends him a knowing look but smiles at you reassuringly as Remus nods. "So, you really shouldn't get in trouble and," James adds, "Hey, I don't think you're okay…" His train of thought seems interrupted by the amount of blood on the napkin.

You glance down, eyes widening, "Oh, shit yeah," you tilt your head up, feeling heat rise in your cheeks, and look at them bashfully, "Fuck, ah—sorry I keep cursing. This just hurts a lot. I think I have to clean go it."

James eyebrows crease for a moment as he watches you turn around and quickly walk away, the bloody napkin still pressed to your hand.

"Oh," his eyes light up like a child when you turn around and address them over the loud bar, "Thank you," you say with a smile and while he's unsure why you're thanking him, his stomach fills with a thousand butterflies.

"You're doing it again," Sirius mutters, sipping his drink as he stares at his friend.

"Hmm?" James doesn't tear his eyes away from you until you disappear behind some curtains into a back room.

"You have that look on your face, the one you wear right before you do something stupid," Remus finishes sternly.

James's eyes roll, acting less drunk than he seemed earlier. Almost as if you sobered him up a little.

"Oh please," he lies, "When have I ever done anything stupid?"

* * *

James leans against the brick of the building, a cigarette in his mouth. His cheeks are flushed from the cold air as he looks around. The street is dimly lit and barely anyone is around at this time of night.

He smiles as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. He had convinced Remus and Sirius to let him have a smoke outside. Something told him you would be out here. James has always been lucky with that sort of thing.

Tonight proves him right because he sees you leave out the backdoor. Your hand seems to be bandaged as you delicately shut the door. You're bundled up in a scarf and a coat that looks a little oversized. James wonders if that means you have a partner. He moves away from the wall and walks over.

"Hi," he clears his throat, making you jump.

You turn around and he can tell you're trying to recognize him in the darkness but then your eyes widen. "Oh, hi!" you exclaim, your voice coming out a little squeaky as you push down your scarf a little. "Can I help you?" you ask him.

James smiles and shakes his head. "I just wanted to apologize," he pauses when he sees your expression shift into confusion, "I'm the one that caused you to slip and hurt yourself. Here?" he adds and holds out his hand to sit on the curb.

He can tell you hesitate to follow him. Understandably. You don't take his hand but you walk with him further away from the building. You sit down and James leans his hands on his knees as he looks at you. "M'name is James. Potter, James Potter."

You laugh, smoothing a hand down your jeans, "You say that like James Bond," you smile but your smile drops when James doesn't look like he understands the reference. You don't mention it. "My name is Y/n Y/l/n, it's nice to meet you, James Potter."

"I hope you don't mind me asking this but you aren't fired are you?"

You shake your head, "Oh, no, thankfully." You look up at him a little bashfully, "I was just more worried than I should have been. I'm not the best at this job."

"Mmm, don't say that. You wouldn't have dropped the tray if I hadn't bumped you," James says reassuringly.

"I'm just clumsy," you chuckle. James smirks a little and tilts his head.

"Do you want to go out tomorrow? I know a good restaurant." He says it so bluntly you can't help but stare at him like he's grown two heads.

"What?"

"I wanna take you out," James pauses, backtracking as his cheeks burn pink, "If you'd like."

Your mind seems to be racing uncontrollably and James feels a little guilty. He doesn't want to pressure you. Could he have misread something? Or maybe he'd just imagined it all.

He stands up and dusts his pants. Usually, James wouldn't be one to up so easily but if he'd learned anything from Lily — persistence isn't the way into someone's heart.

"Wait," you stand up with him, looking into his eyes, "I would love to go out with you." You smile so wide your eyes squint and something in James's chest stirs as he can't help but smile at yours.

You laugh and it's contagious. Then, you walk up to James and rummage through your bag. Once you find your pen you scribble your number onto his palm with difficulty. "This looks much easier in the movies," you mumble with the cap in your mouth. James chuckles, looking at his palm to make sure he can read every number clearly.

"Call me?" you whisper, tucking your pen back into your bag as you look up at James.

"I will," he says, and one day later (he only waited that long because he couldn't figure out how to work the muggle phone) he does.

[violetarks]

bump into things, like someone in love!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: shoko and geto have noticed that gojo has become more... clumsy around one of the underclassman, and take it into their own hands to solve that problem.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, y/n is a bit oblivious lmao

shoko lights her cigarette, eyes on her best friends playing basketball on their break. satoru's glasses lay on her nose, suguru's jacket next to her. suguru was currently up five points, but satoru was slowly closing in. they only had a few more minutes until their break ended and they would have to go to class, and satoru was dead set on winning.

after a successful lay-up, satoru begins to whistle, "ya' losin' it, suguru!"

suguru passes the ball to satoru passed the three-point line, rolling his eyes. "you're just lucky, satoru." he huffs out, smiling.

"good job, satoru!" shoko lazily calls, grinning at his boosted ego.

satoru dribbles the ball a few times, now only three points away. as the two play around, you walk up to shoko on the bench, carrying your weapon's case, greeting your friend, "good morning, shoko. what's up?"

she glances over to you, smile on her face again. "hey, y/n. nothin', just watching them play. you got training soon?"

"yeah, yaga asked see yuu, kento and i on the field. he wants to see how we've been progressing." you say, fixing your collar. you glance towards the boys. "they're pretty good, huh?"

she nods her head, taking the cigarette out of her mouth to blow smoke away from you. she then calls out, leg over her knee, "suguru, satoru! look who's here!"

suguru turns to you briefly, sporting his calming nature and smiling gently. "morning, y/n!" he calls, turning his attention back to satoru, who's turning his head hastily to you.

"hey..." he mumbles, giving suguru the chance to steal the ball and shoot a three, effectively winning the game. satoru glares at his best friend. "hey! cheap shot!"

"pay attention next time, satoru." suguru jokes, catching the ball as the bell rings. he collects himself, walking towards shoko and you. satoru dejectedly follows after, crossed arms.

shoko tosses the boys their things before standing up. you hum out, jutting a thumb to the field as satoru and suguru came closer, "actually, principal yaga asked me to bring you guys. somethin' about an examination?"

"oh right, thanks." suguru says, feeling satoru standing behind him, watching from over his shoulder. he steps to the side, raising a brow. "what are you doing?"

"n—nothin'..." satoru replies, hands in his pockets as he looks away, sunglasses over his eyes. "hey, uh, y/n, how was your break?"

you blink at him, offering your kindest smile that makes his heart pound. "it was good, i spent the whole time dragging kento with yuu and i around for lunch." you say, shrugging your shoulders, "thanks for asking, satoru."

"yeah." he replies, clearing his throat.

shoko amd you begin to walk towards the field, where both nanami and haibara are waiting with their weapons. yaga stood by, talking to them. meanwhile, suguru squints at his best friend.

"what's up with you?" he whispers out, elbowing satoru, "you're acting weird."

"no i'm not." satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes. he tries to look away all nonchalant, but fails.

"is it y/n?" suguru asks, watching how you and shoko talk amongst each other. satoru watches as well. "did you do something to her?"

"you think i did somethin'?" satoru gasps in disbelief. suguru smiles. "why is that your first guess?"

"oi, y/n!" suguru calls, making satoru punch his shoulder harshly. you turn to them. "did satoru do something to upset you?"

satoru wants to destroy suguru after he says that, feeling as if his world is coming crashing down. you raise a brow and shake your head slowly, unsure of why he was asking.

"'course not." you reply, falling into step beside satoru. shoko taps her cigarette as suguru nudges her elbow. "why do you ask?"

"satoru acting strange to you?" he goes on.

"well, he did smash the flower pot yuu gave me when he walked me to my dorm." you explain, "but its fine, i ended up getting a new one."

satoru cringes at the memory of last week, and how you looked upset at the plant you were growing. he hastily bought you more seeds and you accepted them gracefully.

"is that so?" suguru mumbles out quietly, side-eying his best friend. satoru looks at the ground.

it isn't long until you reach your destination and the lesson starts. when it's your turn to go up against nanami, satoru watches you intensely. he watches your every move, and how you maneuver around the field with your weapon. you and nanami are evenly matched at this point, just as you both are with haibara.

"what do you think of the them?" yaga asks his older students.

"they're so cute." shoko chuckles, watching how haibara cheers the both of you on from the sidelines.

"they'll start going on solo missions soon." suguru states, leaning back as he sits down on the step. he glances at satoru. "you're invested."

"yeah? so what?" the white-haired male scoffs, crossing his arms, "i'm just watching."

"watching y/n?" suguru giggles under his breath.

"i am not watching y/n!"

he says that a little too loud. so loud that you instinctively turn to look at them as your name is called, and nanami sees his opening.

the match ends with him getting the slip on you after that.

you sulk back to the seats with your opponent in front of you. satoru blinks and stands up, jogging to meet you halfway.

"y/n! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to, uh, distract you..." he tells you, waving his handswith his apology. you look back at him, pout still on your lips. he falters, dropping his hands. "you... were still great out there."

"ah, thanks, satoru." you sigh, rubbing your shoulder as you sit down beside him with suguru on his other side.

satoru is kicking himself for making you lose your match, but suguru can't help buck snicker at it.

later, class has ended and its time for missions. everyone gathers in one of the classrooms, yaga standing at the front.

"suguru and nanami." he reads out, "you two are heading to a construction site in the south. take these reports and head off as soon as possible."

nanami takes them from the teacher's hands and shows suguru. the older boy reads it, eyes suddenly looking towards his best friend.

"good luck on your mission, satoru!" he chimes, smirking at satoru's red face. his friend flips him off in return.

nanami follows after geto shortly, leaving the room.

yaga clears his throat, "haibara, you'll be visiting the kyoto school to check in with the teachers there. they've requested the help of our school to deal with some missing cursed weapons."

haibara nods his head, fixing his uniform as he stands up.

"take l/n with you." yaga adds on.

you stand up as well, smiling at haibara and reading the report together. satoru blinks, watching as haibara nudges against you to get closer, letting you see the papers easier. he clicks his tongue. 'bad luck...'

"shoko, satoru. you'll be going to visit a high school south of here. suspected of harbouring grade 1 curses and holding some students hostage." yaga explains, but satoru keeps looking at you, "we don't known how many have been injured. make haste."

satoru makes his way to the exit when shoko holds up her hand. "actually, can i go with haibara? utahime and i have some things to discuss." she explains.

yaga, not looking too bothered by the idea, responds, "that's fine by me. haibara and shoko go to kyoto, and l/n and satoru."

shoko sends a sly wink to her friend, making satoru look away with furrowed brows. those two were always scheming! but he couldn't help but feel grateful, now being able to sit beside you on the train.

"after this, do you want to get dinner?" you ask him, looking down at your phone. satoru blinks at you. "it shouldn't take long since you're here, right? so i say we go to that thai place shoko mentioned."

"you wanna go with me?" his voice cracks as he points at himself. he blinks behind his glasses and you chuckle, making his face burn with embarrassment.

"of course with you, satoru. shoko told me that you enjoyed that place, so we might as well go after we're done." you reply, tilting your head, "and you're my favourite senior, after all."

he swears he's unable to focus the rest of the day. he's sloppy when taking down that high-level curse, and you have to snap him out of it a few times by calling his name. hell, you saved him twice when he mindlessly attacking, his mind doing re-runs of you telling him he was your favourite senior.

"satoru!" you shout, deflecting an attack by the curse that was going to hit him, hard. you hold your weapon in one hand, and grasp satoru's uniform front with the other, keeping him from falling off the ledge. you turn your head back to him, breathless. "c'mon, man! focus!"

"ah, i'm... sorry." he says, tracing your features in the sunset, "right! i've got this!"

you pull him up and look over to the scared high school students you saved. they're on the football field, protected by your cursed technique from any fighting outside.

truthfully, you didn't understand why he was off his game today. you've seen him fight before, you've heard all the stories. the almighty gojo satoru. here he was, tripping over his feet.

you decide to talk to him about it after, when the mission is done and you've sent your report back to yaga through a jujutsu worker. at dinner, it's an all you can eat and you snd satoru reserve a booth for yourselves. you sit across from each other (satoru thinks that sitting next to you would cause his heart to burst).

"satoru..." you begin, looking down at your food. he glanced up from his. "do you have a problem with me?"

he stalls, tilting his head. the light above you both illuminates his blush. "no, why do you think that?"

"because suguru is right. you do act differently around me." you explain, "you're always nice to me, satoru. but if you don't like me, you can just say so."

satoru mentally curses at suguru. the guy was putting ideas in your head to get him to confess! how could he play so much with your (non-existent) relationship?

"no! no, i don't have any problem with you." he is quick to react, reaching out to place his hand gently on top of yours, "it's the opposite, y/n... i like you. a lot."

"yeah? that's a relief." you sigh out, smiling at him, "i thought that maybe—"

"y/n, i really like you." he states, gathering all the courage possible to express himself. you stop yourself, staring at him. "i have for a while now... and i promise i'm not making it up, i'm just really bad at saying what i want to say."

"satoru..." you say, feeling his hand shiver on top of yours. you smile, turning your palm and gently holding his hand. "it's okay, i understand. i like you too."

"y—yeah?" he mutters, unable to hide his smile.

"yeah. you're always kind to me. and you've always given me souveniers from your missions out of town." you explain, satoru's heart racing, "i know it's you who leaves them at my dorm."

he hides his face in his other hand, uncontrollable blush on his face. "ah, i knew i should've just told suguru to give 'em to you..." he groans, holding his head in now both of his hands on the table.

you chuckle, standing up and leaning forward, pushing his silky hair back and pressing a warm and gentle kiss to his forehead. he freezes once your pull away, looking back at you from the top of his glasses.

"you're sweet, satoru." you say, leaving to the cashier to pay for the both of you.

satoru leans his chin on his palm, his whole face burning. he'd have to thank his friends, they were helpful even though they were so so annoying.

and when he gets back to school, he does just that. he barges into suguru's room where he and shoko are playing on his gaming console, as its wednesday night and its tradition to go to his room to play a few rounds before they head to sleep.

"you two!" he shouts, pointing accusingly, "you two meddlers! you two... monsters!"

"i take it the date went well." suguru says, pausing the game.

"date! date! it was a date!" satoru claims, falling back onto the bed behind them. the two sit on their own bean bags, turning around to face him. he was blushing like crazy. "i can't believe you two set me up!"

"someone had to." shoko claims, putting out her cigarette, "god knows you weren't gonna do it yourself."

"so how did it go?" suguru asks, wanting to know all the details.

satoru tells them about the mission and the dinner and how the confession went. suguru gets a punch in the shoulder for his intrusion, and shoko gets a glare for mentioning the thai restaurant.

the way he smiles and stares at the ceiling as he speaks makes his friends grin as well. it was high time that he finally got with you.

"and i walked her to her room when we got home and i thanked her for dinner—"

"no way you let her pay when you've got ten thousand businesses—"

"and i kissed her 'goodnight' and she said she wanted to go out again, soon." satoru finishes off, a happy smile on his lips, "she's really amazing..."

"finally! make me your best man." suguru says, turning back to the game with shoko.

satoru chuckles, turning to watch the game they were playing after changing your contact name in his phone.

y/n 💙

so next week? that cat cafe close by?

he smiles.

satoru ♡

sure thing, pretty

nanmi and haibara can hear you squeal in your dorm.

[taintedcigs]

we’d still worship this love — e.m.

part two of even if it’s a false god.

pairing: modern!college!fboy eddie x fem!reader

warnings: smut!!!!!!, 18+, MINORS DNI. p in v, cr*ampie, unprotected s*x, angstangstangst, eddie regrets everything!!, jealous eddie, a bit of protective steve, drinking, swearing, praises, nicknames, fluff!!

summary: in which eddie regrets what he said to you. (wc:6.3k+)

a/n: literally the lyrics match up soooo well w the story imo im sorry for the last line ok i rlly tried to hold myself back not to directly write any lyrics lmao. this is CHEESY. i hate THE ENDING. as usual! but im so glad u guys liked pt. one and i didn't want to deprave any of u !!! i did not proof-read so pls ignore any mistakes!! hope u guys enjoy this lmk what u think mwah!!

Eddie sighed as he checked the kitchen, you were still nowhere to be found.

He had fucked up.

So badly.

He grabbed the half-empty red cup sitting on the kitchen stand. A whiff of alcohol hit his senses as soon as he tried to sniff it; it reeked, but Eddie didn’t care at this point, downing it like it was water.

He grabbed the pack of cigarettes sitting in his back pocket, walking miserably toward the backyard as he lit the cigarette sitting between his lips.

“Let’s get you to Steve’s, yeah?” The voice that passed by him was quick to grab his attention.

Robin.

“Robin?” He exclaimed excitedly, causing Robin to mouth “Don’t”.

He took a step to get closer to you but stopped quickly in his tracks; he had caused enough fucking damage.

He made his bed, and now he needed to lie in it.

He watched as you and Robin left, leaving him all alone. 

2 HOURS LATER

DON’T ANSWER: im so fuckhjing sorry

DON’T ANSWER: i didnt fuckingmeanit lije that i swear

DON’T ANSWER: pls talk to me

DON’T ANSWER: r u at steve? i can come

DON’T ANSWER: pleaseeeeee we can’t leave things like this. 

You heaved a sigh reading his texts, he was drunk again, and you weren’t going to entertain him.

You blocked this contact. 

“He’s texting me.” You groaned, chucking your phone away as you plopped yourself onto Steve’s bed.

“What did he say?” Steve asked curiously.

“He wants to see me and talk, he’s drunk again.” You replied curtly, head still filled with the words he uttered to you.

“I just… I can’t believe he’d say that.” Robin chimed in, shaking her head.

“I could. He’s an asshole.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah… but I always thought he had a soft spot for you.” Robin muttered.

You chuckled dryly. “He has a soft spot for my body.” You crinkled with disgust.

Robin shook her head as she spoke. “No, I mean it, Y/N… I really don’t believe he meant it like—” 

Steve was quick to interrupt. “Jesus, Robin, stop making excuses for him. I know he’s your friend and all, but he fucked up. And there’s nothing he can do now to ever take back the things he did to her!” He exclaimed, the two of them started bickering back and forth. 

You wanted to sink into the bed; you so badly wanted to believe Robin, believe that Eddie’s words were all just a lie, just something he made up on the spot just because he was afraid. 

But Steve was right—even if it was a lie, even if it was all a huge misunderstanding, nothing he could do would undo the amount of pain he caused you. The nights you spent sobbing—nothing could change that. 

But a part of you also knew that, if Eddie ever caught you in a moment of weakness again, you’d do it all over again; you’d let him ruin you all over again, just to have him complete you for the mere seconds he made you feel loved. 

The bickering and the storm in your mind stopped with a sudden knock on Steve’s door. 

The three of you looked at each other in unison.

Shit.

Did that stupid bastard really have the audacity to come here? 

You looked over at Steve with pity, about to open your mouth and beg, plead with him to do something, and he was quick to understand your train of thought. “I got this.” He muttered, hand squeezing your knee for comfort before he attended the door. 

As soon as the door swung open, there he was, blood-shot eyes and messy hair framing his face. He was shitfaced and could barely stand against the door frame. “Munson.” Steve affirmed sternly. 

“W—where is she?” Eddie slurred, barely even letting Steve speak. 

“She’s not here.” Steve said without letting Eddie take a look. 

“Look, man… I know she is, please—” He tried to push past him, but Steve stood his ground, blocking his way before his face turned cold. 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Steve almost hissed, the intensity of his gaze taking Eddie back. 

“Don’t make this any harder and just leave, yeah?” Steve muttered, almost shutting the door before Eddie’s heavy boots interfered. 

“Please.” Eddie pleaded, making Steve huff as he threw a quick glance your way, and you quickly shook your head, mouthing ‘no’s.

But that was it; Eddie barged in as he used Steve’s distraction to his advantage, you gasped when the door swung open, revealing Eddie. 

He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, his gaze held guilt and relief. Guilty because of the fact that he uttered those words to you. But, relieved that he saw you, relieved that he could finally explain himself to you.

Yet you looked at him with such disgust that it ached his heart, putting on a heavy ache on his chest. Every breath he took now felt like a struggle. 

“Don’t!” You seethed when he took a step toward you, Steve was quick to jump to your defence, but you waved him off. 

“Leave.” You could feel your face grow hotter with rage each time you spoke, you didn’t want him here, you wanted him to disappear from the face of the earth. 

“I’m so fucking sorry.” That was all that left his lips, his eyes were glinting with sadness, and his bottom lip trembled with guilt. 

“You have the nerve… You have the fucking nerve.” You chuckled dryly, tongue rolling inside your cheek in anger. 

“Please... Let me just explain,” He slurred. 

His drunkenness made you more angry.

“I don’t want you to!” You hissed.  

“I told you, I’m fucking done, Munson.” You spoke calmly, tears were threatening to spill, but you held your ground. 

“One fucking minute, I swear—” You heaved a sigh, and another angry chuckle escaped from your throat as you looked at Steve, as if to tell him to kick him out, signaling for help. 

“Alright,” Steve muttered. “She doesn’t wanna talk, Munson.” He spoke calmly as he held Eddie’s arm, trying to drag him out. Eddie’s protests fell deaf on your ear as you plopped yourself on the bed again, crying into Steve’s sheets as Robin played with your hair to reassure you. 

1 MONTH LATER:

Thirty fucking days.

Eddie was going to lose his mind. 

Blocked from everywhere, and you avoided him like the plague.

He knew he deserved to be shut out; he knew he didn’t deserve you. But even crumbs of information from you would have eased him.

Steve and Robin had been useless, except for today. Except for that cryptic message Robin sent him about you being at the party today. And he praised his lucky stars for that.

Until he made it to the party.

Until he finally saw you.

With Mr. Jock pinning you against the wall as you giggled at his unfunny jokes.

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Don’t make a scene, Eddie. Don’t fucking make a scene—

His lips pressed together, jaw quick to clench as he couldn’t help the way he almost sprinted toward you. He didn’t know if it was out of pure jealousy, or the fact that he had missed you so goddamn much that he couldn’t stray away from you anymore. 

“Hi, honey.” Eddie said sarcastically and chirpily, jealousy dripped from his tone, and he couldn’t help the intense gaze he had on the asshole. 

You froze in your place as soon as you recognized the voice. What the fuck was he doing? 

Standing between the two of you, “Who’s this?” Eddie spat, his hand aggressively pointing toward him. 

You rolled your eyes before you turned to him. “Don’t,” You warned, your brows shooting up and a fiery flash apparent in your eyes. 

“Who are you?” He narrowed his eyes at Eddie, and as if Eddie had been waiting for him to provoke him further, he gave a smug smirk. Body turning to face the asshole.

You panicked, and the ever-so apparent tension in the air grew thicker “No one.” You replied quickly, avoiding Eddie’s lingering gaze. 

“Really? You’re gonna play that card, princess?” He gave you a dry chuckle, jealousy gnawed at his insides. 

You squeezed your eyes shut to save yourself from embarrassment, but he wasn’t going to stop until this jerk wasn’t at your side. 

“That’s not what you were saying the last time I saw you—” You were quick to cut him off with a warning gaze, your eyes widening. 

“Eddie… This—this is Ethan.” You said through gritted teeth. 

Eddie mocked a realization face, and you wanted to punch that smirk off of his stupid smug face. “Oh…” He laughed all-knowingly.

“That Ethan? The jock?” You narrowed your eyes, annoyance setting over your face, and you couldn’t handle the heat growing in your cheeks. 

This asshole. 

“I’m sorry, man.” He chuckled, giving Ethan a harsh slap on the shoulder, a slap that wasn’t friendly in the slightest bit—and you were sure now that the tension in the space the three of you shared could be cut through with a knife.

You cleared your throat to speak up, but Ethan did it before you. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

This was the provocation Eddie needed, and you knew it; you saw that mischievous glint glimmer in his eyes. “Oh, just that she was telling me all about how fucking horrible you—”

You interrupted Eddie with a nervous giggle. “Sooo sorry! He’s just a bit drunk!” You gave Ethan a panicked smile. 

“I’ll see you around!” You called out, walking off while dragging Eddie as far away from him as possible with a harsh grip on his arm. 

You probably didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when you dragged him toward the closest empty room. 

“What the fuck?!?” You yelled into his face. 

He ignored your distress. “What are you doing with him?”

“None of your business.” You hissed.

“It is my business if you get with Mr Jock again.”

“I’m not getting with—” You lowered your voice mid-sentence, annoyance taking over. 

“What part of ‘I don’t want to fucking see you ever again’ don’t you understand?” You let out through gritted teeth, your face heating from anger. 

“Did you know…” He said, completely ignoring you, and you looked at him with the same angry expression, getting tired of his antics.

“When you get angry like that, a line crinkles on your forehead, and those sweet lips pout into a frown? You look so fuckin’ cute like that.” He murmured, leaning against the wall you trapped him into.

You let out an exasperated sigh, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “What the fuck is your problem?” You asked, brows furrowing. 

“What the hell do you want from me?” 

“You? I mean, eventually, I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep with you every night.” He smirked.

Fucking jerk.

You chuckled with an audible scoff. "Is this some kind of a joke?" You muttered under your breath, voice laced with irritation.

“You are so fucking irritating.” You spat, eyes narrowing. 

“Just… just—Leave me alone.” Your voice lowered, your face was coming closer to his, and all Eddie could think about was how nice it was to have you this close to him again, to feel your warmth again.

You could see it, the emotions his gaze held, but you didn’t want to fall for his antics again, so you turned quickly to leave.

“Please.” His pleading and his hold on your arm were what made you stop in your tracks. The way his voice cracked, you could hear the desperation. If only you didn’t care about him this fucking much…

“Please—just, hear me out.” He was almost begging, and you knew you should be running, you knew you shouldn’t care, not even to spit the venom inside of you that had been building since that night.

But you can’t help it. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, words coming out in a sharp and biting tone as your anger escalated. 

“After what you said to me...” You looked at him with a piercing stare, your eyes practically emitting flashes of irritation.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much I can’t even stomach being around you?” Your nostrils flared with every breath you took. 

“In fact, I hate you.” You spat.

“You hate me?” He asked, inching closer toward you. 

“Yes!” You snapped. 

“Then show me.” He challenged. 

“W—what?” You stuttered, your confidence dissipating in a second as the room felt so fucking small when he was standing this close to you. 

Your guard was so thinly veiled that one fucking word from him was enough to shatter it.

And you knew, with one or two more pushes from him, you’d give in. You’d give in, regardless; you had missed him more than you would ever let him know. 

And you shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t.

“Take it out on me.” He whispered, gaze intentionally fixated on your lips. 

“You hate me, fine! One last time. Get me out of your system.” He’s so close to your face that when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you can feel his hot breath on your neck. 

He’s intoxicating—his endearing words, the jealousy, and the possessiveness—and you shouldn’t fucking fall for it. 

But it feels different this time; something is so fucking different about him that it’s throwing you off. The way his pretty lips frame the words is convincing. 

Making you believe that this would be the last time, making you believe that you could come clean off him if you had him just one more fucking time. 

You don’t say anything when you give in, your gaze lingering on his lips.

His eyes are quick to trace your face, admiring all of your features in awe, regret filling every vein in his body, knowing that this would be the last time. 

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says roughly. He doesn’t let you respond, lets the petty comments die down your throat when he kisses you. 

Oh, Jesus, Fucking Christ. 

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. There was something so bittersweet about the way he kissed you, knowing it was going to be the last. He twirled his tongue with yours, so needy and so fucking promising. 

Eddie knew you better than the back of his hand, so when you started whimpering against his lips, your knees giving out, he knew you didn’t want to waste any time. 

He guided you toward the bed, gentle as he had never been before. The two of you were slow to undress each other, savoring every fucking moment. 

He let you lead everything, going only at your pace and making sure everything was up to your desires, purely catering to you. 

You could sense it, see the difference in how intimate this was, compared to others where it was just senselessly fucking, this was passionate, and it was killing the two of you. 

Rather than just pushing into it, he kept his gaze on you, admiring the way your chest rose up and down as his calloused hands slid further down your body, nipples hardening when his hands stopped to ghost over your thighs. 

His other hand rested on your breasts, and he didn’t hesitate to latch his tongue on it, sucking while his other fingers toyed with your entrance. 

You mewled; you weren’t going to hold back. “Moremoremore.” 

But he didn’t move an inch.

That greedy bastard. 

“More,” You pleaded louder this time, growing impatient. 

Eddie looked at you with such hunger in his eyes that it had your core throbbing. “I’m gonna give you every fucking thing you need, honey.” He promised. 

“But I need… this. I need this memory of you engraved into my brain, forever.” He groaned, giving all of his attention to every part of your body. 

You were quick to nod, quick to oblige him, especially when he made you feel this fucking good. 

But you couldn’t help it, you needed him. Especially when he was everywhere, hands gliding all over your body, making you whimper with just his touch. 

And the way you looked at him was so fucking tempting that he was almost going to explode, you were pleading with your gaze, telling him to take you… fully. To make you his, one last fucking time. 

He could recognize the weight your gaze held, almost as if he understood your train of thought, he pressed his thumb further into your clit, circling around it as your core clenched on nothing. 

“Please,” You begged. 

“Such an impatient, baby,” He muttered into your skin, pushing past your folds as he earned a low groan from you.

“Missed those sweet noises,” He hummed, doing everything in his power to not pound into you right away, the way your cunt was gushing for him, the way you pleaded, Eddie was sure he’d burst if he had to wait more. 

With a tender touch, he tucked your hair back. “You have no clue how fuckin’ insane you make me.” He pressed a sloppy kiss, his hands were still working their way through your folds. 

“Each time I’m around you… it’s like I lose all my fuckin’ senses.” He slurred into your ear, his cock was straining his boxers, and you looked so fucking perfect beneath him, looking all fucked when he had barely touched. 

But you ignored it. Ignored every one of his words, you didn’t need his sappy shit; you didn’t need another reason to stay. 

You just needed to feel good. 

“Please, fuck, baby, please,” You whimpered softly, your nails digging harshly into his back, making his cock twitch more and more. 

Baby. 

He doesn’t even remember the last time you called him that, and it shouldn’t bring a stupid, childish grin to his face, but it does. 

He’s ready to put everything behind him, start over, and do whatever you say. 

But he’s sure you will never let him. 

“I need you, Eds.” You murmured, eyes gazing into his; a mixture of tenderness and longing overtaking your features, speaking to him without uttering a single word.

That was all it took for him to free his hard cock from his boxers, his pink-tip burning with desire as it faced you, beads of pre-cum dripping from it as you smeared it all over, giving it a few pumps before you placed it into your entrance. 

The low groans that escaped Eddie’s lips were so fucking loud, filling the room, and you loved it. You loved the strained sounds he made with one touch from you. 

He didn’t hesitate to push himself deep inside of you without a warning, the space now being filled with both of your contented groans. 

“Holy fuck,” He breathed, head tilted back as he grinned at the sight in front of him.

You with your mouth hung open, murmuring his name as you took his cock like the good fucking girl that you were.  

“Takin’ me so well, angel,” He praised, “Baby, so fuckin’ tight, mhmm.” He placed sloppy kisses between your jaw and the line of your neck, grunting as he pounded his cock in and out of you with a speed that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You were lost in him now, lost in the pure passion and affection Eddie provided you. You never felt this fucking good; you never felt this fucking close to him, breathing heavily as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Everything was so fucking intense that you could barely breathe.  

“Look at how well your sweet cunt is takin’ me in.” Eddie moaned, watching the way his cock disappeared into you, nuzzling him with your warmth. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. S’fuckin’ warm, honey.” He muttered the deeper he pushed into you, and your walls were quick to clench around his throbbing cock.

You arched your back into him as you rocked your hips toward him.  

You wanted him deeper and deeper, faster and faster, his every moment was euphoric, and you needed him, more and more. 

He was making you greedy. 

God, you wanted to hate him so fucking bad. 

He groaned at your impatience, relished in the way you grunted your hips more into his cock, he chuckled smugly. “Greedy baby,” He muttered. 

You ignored his taunting while you begged for more. 

“Shut up,” You murmured, teasing him back.

And it was a huge mistake.

He cursed as he pulled out of you, and you whined at the emptiness, “Shit, shit, ‘m sorry” You whispered, but he ignored you, continuing his teasing while all you could do was thrash beneath him. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” You begged, causing him to smirk down at you. 

And even though your pleas were heavenly, Eddie was in no mood to stray away from you, he needed to be inside of you. 

He needed to feel your walls hugging his cock, he needed to be as close to you as he possibly could. 

“I would never say no to you, doll.” He mocked, rocking his hips into you with such force that the whimper that slipped past your lips was sinful. 

“All fuckin’ mine, yea?” He whimpered needily, and you nodded without hesitation, even though you both knew that wasn’t true. 

You shuddered underneath him; he was filling you to the brim, and you cherished every fucking second of it. 

“Eddie…” You barely let out a breath; the pleasure and sensation of each of his movements overwhelmed you. 

He cooed, “S’stuffed with my cock that you can barely speak, doll?” He asked mockingly. 

You nodded without hesitation, eyes squeezed shut. “I—Fuck…” Your head was dizzy, incoherent babbles were the only thing that escaped your lips, and Eddie knew, he knew you were close by the way your legs trembled. 

“Fuck… honey—I know.” He purred cockily, his hips pushing further into you with a glorious thrust. “I feel the same, baby.” He groaned when you clenched around him again.  

“My perfect girl.” He muttered as he continued his pace, his cock rocking into you further and faster—as if it were possible—earning low pleads from you in return.

“I never—I never thought being with someone could ever feel this way,” He whispered into your ear. 

Don’t let him get to you; don’t fucking let his words get to you.

But fuck—does everything with him feel so fucking good. 

“But, shit, you’re so different…” He muttered, his pace continuing as he grunted between his sentences. 

“You’re so fucking different.” You avoided his gaze, the emotion it held was too fucking much for you to handle.  

You tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the way you felt the hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your emotions were a mess. 

It felt good, and he felt good; his words, his fucking cock inside of you, everything felt so fucking good. It was the temporary fix you needed. 

“Don’t do this to me, Munson.” You barely let out, he could feel your thighs trembling. 

“I…I never felt this way before… Jesus—Fuck.” The rocking motion of his hips became rougher each time he spoke; you were clenching around him, getting tighter and tighter, driving the both of you into insane heights of pleasure.

“I think I lo—” You snapped from your hazy state of pleasure; each of his words was like a stab at your fresh wound, the one he fucking created. 

“Don’t,” You warned him sternly, interrupting before he could get another vowel out.

"Don’t fucking finish that sentence. Don’t do that with me.”

“I know you. It's not working on me." You whispered.

“But—” He pleaded, and you interrupted again.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, don’t ruin this.” The words were harsh as they left your lips.

“Don’t say things to make me doubt this, to make it harder for me to leave.” There was such a vulnerability in your voice that he couldn't help but want to protest. 

He wanted to tell you that it was all fucking true. That he was so fucking in love with you that he was sure he lost his mind. 

Yet, you don’t let him speak, you don’t let his words fool you, not again. 

You kiss him in a dizzyingly rough motion just to shut him up. 

His skin slaps against yours, rough, as if he’s trying to take his frustrations out, and you let him, you let him pound into you senselessly. You let his cock drive into you further, not stopping until he’s sure he’s stuffed you to the brim. 

“Eddie, fuck!” You mumble into his lips; your brows are drawn together, and he knows—he knows you are close. 

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” He cooed, and you nodded quickly. “Cum for me, honey.” He encouraged, not stopping his pace as he roughly thrusted his cock inside of your throbbing cunt one last time. 

A gush of wetness pulsed out of you when you released around him, the strength of your orgasm was enough to choke you out, and white-hot flashes blurred your vision as he watched you in awe. 

He wasn’t far behind, as the strained moans that escaped your throat drove him closer to the edge. 

“Shitshit—s’fuckin’ perfect.” He grunted. The way your cunt convulsed around him was too much for him to handle. He slammed inside of you one last time.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck—” He growled against your hair as he came, his cock shrivelled inside your cunt, pulsing as he coated your walls with his warm cum, fucking his release inside of you.

The two of you stayed like that for a hot minute, bodies tangled to each other, both minds fuzzy as both of you tried to catch your breath. 

You could feel tears brimming your eyes again when the realization hit you. 

This was the last time. 

And you needed to leave. 

As soon as possible.

And that’s exactly what he’s afraid of, afraid of you leaving, forever. 

You are quick to shake your thoughts off, quickly getting up to get dressed. 

“Don’t,” He mutters, it’s barely audible. 

You turn to him with a quizzed look. “Please… Just, please don’t leave.” He begs, it’s the last sight you expect, and the last thing you expect to hear. 

And it should feel so fucking satisfying, to know he’s wrapped around your finger, to know he is practically pleading for you. But it doesn’t, it feels so fucking sentimental, and you hate it. 

“You knew.” You muttered, putting on the clothes you so carelessly discarded. 

“You wanted this to be the last time.” You whispered, not daring to look at him.

“I lied,” He was quick to reply. 

“Eddie…” You heaved a sigh.

“Please, just fucking listen to me for once.” He breathed; you’re sure you’ve never heard him this determined. 

“I’m a fucking idiot, and I’m the biggest coward in the whole fucking universe, okay?” You turn around to meet his gaze, it’s pitiful and heavy with guilt, and you wish you never cared about him.

You wish you could just throw your feelings away and leave him behind. 

“I don’t deserve you!” He exclaimed, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Stop… just stop with the bullshit of making me pity you—” You replied angrily.

But he doesn’t let you finish. 

“Look, Y/N. I want that with you, I want something real with you… Shit—more than anything.” 

You chuckled, baffled. “Too fucking late for that.” You replied coldly. 

“I—it doesn’t have to be!” He spoke, grasping at straws to get you to give him one more chance.

Just one more fucking chance.

“What good will it do?” You whispered.

“You know what I realized?” You asked, putting on your shirt as Eddie gazed at you with need. 

“We’re both so beyond fucked up that...” You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Us—” You pointed toward the two of you. “We would never work!” You spat.

“I’m the last fucking girl for a relationship, and you’re the last fucking guy for a relationship.” 

“That’s why it would be perfect!” He tried to reason, but you shook your head.

“No—no, it wouldn’t! We’d eat each other alive!” You exclaimed, but Eddie refused. 

“So?” He shrugged.

“So? We’d just fight all the time! You really want a relationship that hard?”

“When did you become so fucking afraid to take a risk? A little challenge?” You narrowed your eyes.

He read you like a fucking book. You knew you weren’t afraid of a challenge.

You were afraid of getting hurt.

You were afraid of being more attached to him than you already were.

You were afraid of him running out once you decided to fully commit.

You knew it wasn’t all him; you were messed up in your own fucking way. Avoiding everything that felt too real was your specialty, because you’d rather be aching now than in the near future when he broke your heart again.

If you didn’t leave now, you never could.

“Goodbye, Eddie.” You muttered, shutting out whatever he was saying as you closed the door. 

Eddie sat on the bed, alone with himself, and his mind that was spinning with thoughts and his own voice telling him that he fucked up. 

He chucked his jacket to the ground as he rubbed his hands along his face in frustration. 

He had truly done it this time, he had lost you.

Forever.

But did he have to? 

Did he need to be a fucking coward again? 

Why would he give up this fucking fast when he didn’t tell you how he even felt? 

Eddie got up in a hurry, sprinting toward the party like a man possessed, spinning around each girl he saw in the hopes that it might be you. 

“Have you seen, Y/N?” He asked, and the blonde girl pointed toward the porch. 

He muttered a quick ‘Thanks’ as he slipped through the bodies in his way as fast as he could, making his way onto the porch with anticipation, eyes glistening the second he spotted you. 

You were sat on the cold wooden floor with your face buried into your hands, quiet sniffling was all Eddie heard. And he felt it again—that familiar ache—the same ache he felt the past month, when he couldn’t see you, talk to you, or know how you were doing. It returned instantly when he heard your sobs. 

“Hey… hey…” He murmured, causing you to jump as you turned to him with swollen eyes and your mascara was quick to run down your cheeks. 

“You’re gonna get cold, honey. Let’s get you up, yea?” He had never been this fucking caring, nor did he ever pine after you this much; he always held back, no matter what storms brewed in his mind. 

He extended his arm for you to take, but you glared at him coldly. “What are you doing here, Eddie?” 

“I need to talk to you.” He said. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You muttered, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to—” Your rant was interrupted by his pleas.

“Please—just don’t say anything and just listen, please.” You sighed. 

“Please, Y/N.” 

“Fine.” You crossed your arms against your chest, your eyes still glistening with tears.

He inched closer to you. “These thirty fucking days I’ve spent away from you… It’s been torture, Y/N.” He shook his head. 

“You—you have no fucking idea the things I did... The things I’ve tried to forget about us... Forget you.” His voice almost cracked, distress overtaking his features. He was sincere, so fucking honest that it was starting to make you afraid.

You couldn’t decide if it was him or the chilly breeze that sent shivers down your spine. “And no matter what I did, I still found myself itching for you. A part of me that I couldn’t fucking kill craved for you… to see you, to call you.” 

You’d never seen him like this before.

Eddie was always guarded, all fun and teasing. Always turning serious shit into jokes.

And this was real. The only thing you wanted from him, the only thing you begged that he made a mockery of. The hypocrisy was appalling to you.

You opened your mouth, your brows had already furrowed, and he could tell you were going to curse him out, so he didn’t let you.

“I know… I’m a fucking hypocrite, I get it.” He whispered, and your eyes almost widened.

How the fuck did he read you that easily?

“And I’m so fucking sorry for everything I said.” He ran his hands through his curls, almost tugging them out for being an idiot.

“I was afraid, okay?” He heaved a sigh, hand ruffling through his messy hair.

You didn’t want to ask him what he was afraid of because you knew—because you were afraid of the same thing.

Your lips trembled with need; no words dared to come out of them. 

“I was so fucking scared because I did the first thing we promised not to do.” He squeezed his eyes shut. You knew how bad he was with his feelings; you couldn’t even believe that he had made it this far.

“I think—No, I know.” He shook his head.

“I really fell for you.” He was ripping open your chest now, holding your heart out. Telling you he felt the same. A gasping, quiet noise escaped your lips; this was all you wanted—needed.

You’ve been this close to Eddie countless times before; hell, he probably fucked you at a much closer distance countless times before, but this was intimate. 

“And I realized... I could lose everything in this fucked up world.” He took a deep breath, his face so close to yours that you could sense it. Sense every emotion radiating from his body—the vulnerability, the pain. 

Each beat of your heart was like a drumroll against your chest; everything you longed for was there, a breath away from you.

“But not you. Oh god, not you.” His brows knitted together in a painful expression, and his voice was barely audible as he looked at you with a gaze that held you as the center of his universe.

You wanted to kiss him; you wanted his soft lips to graze against yours; you wanted to sob into him, melt into him, and become complete with him. 

“W—what are you saying?” You asked, and you knew the answer, but you needed that confirmation, you needed those three words to leave his lips.

“I love you.” He said without hesitation, and you couldn’t help the childish grin that formed on your face, mirroring Eddie’s. 

“I—You do?” You stuttered.

“Yeah… I love you so fucking much that it’s embarrassing, really.” He chuckled, still not able to comprehend your expressions; you looked… frozen. 

“You, uh, you don’t have to say it back.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, all of this was so fucking new to him. What was he supposed to do now? Kiss you? No, no, no... He couldn’t do that because you didn’t say it back. 

“I’m sorry, shit, uhm—I honestly have no fucking clue what I’m doing,” He stuttered. 

You gave him a warm smile. “I’d say you are doing well,” You whispered, scrunching your nose. 

“Yeah?” He returned the smile—that goddamn smile that brought out his dimples. 

God, you wanted to kiss him. 

“You’re making it so hard for me to leave.” You muttered, turning around to take a breath as you shook your head.

Eddie sighed, hands quick to find yours as he turned you to face him. “Then don’t leave. Stay.”

His past words didn’t matter, and how your relationship started didn’t matter. None of it mattered now because Eddie was ready, ready to give himself fully to you. And he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

It was now or never. You heaved a sigh of breath as you looked into his eyes; you couldn’t help yourself. How could you not utter those words back to him?

“Jesus…When I told Robin that I was ready to fall in love again, I didn’t mean with you.”

You barely gave him any time to process your words as you smashed your lips with his.

It was as if passion was dripping from every move; it felt so fucking different to have this many emotions carrying your actions.

Before you could further it, taste him fully, Eddie pulled back slightly. You whined at the loss of contact. “Wait, wait, wait.” The words slipped past his lips quickly, eyes widening at your words.

“You—you? You are…?” He asked, baffled. He didn’t expect you to say it back.

He expected you to hate him forever. The thought of someone loving him was unfamiliar to him, especially to the extent that you did. Healing his fears without realizing it.

Your lips quirked into a smile. Why was he so idiotically cute?

You nodded, affirming him.

“Say it, please,” He pleaded, hands gentle as they cupped your cheeks. The look he gave you was mellow and your face tilted as you melted into his tender touch.

“I love you,” You muttered, eyes glinting with all the unspoken feelings you’ve been containing.

“Again.” A grin overtook his lips, and his widened eyes didn’t falter, shock and pure bliss apparent was written all over his face.

“Please,” He implored, brows softening each time you gave him that pretty smile.

“Soooo needy.” You narrowed your eyes jokingly.

“I love you,” You repeated, your gaze lingering on his honey-glazed eyes.

“Aren’t you a fucking dream?” You giggled, the dimples on his left cheek were pretty, he was so pretty.

“I love you more, honey.” He whispered, smashing his soft lips against yours.

And you invite him in to patch up the wounds he made, to give you the world, to love you fully; knowing that the blind faith transcended into something real, something worth worshiping.

[lushrue]

hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 4

really need to come up with a title for this series lol! comment if you want to be added to the taglist and send any title suggestions you have my way, i'm blanking! (also we're removing the "eventually" from the poly 141 tag tehe)

cw: allusions to sexual acts (nothing described)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

it had started out as a coincidental thing. now, it was anything but.

the first time you’d run into the boys at the ice rink was purely by coincidence, before your friendship with them had even started. you’d stuck to your side of the ice and they’d stuck to theirs. that didn’t stop you from stealing glances at each other, their eyes following you when you spun in the air and your eyes darting around as they ran plays and practiced their passes. now, though, it was routine. you knew when they practiced, just the four of them, so you practiced those days too.

your outfit was a bit deliberate. it wasn’t like you didn’t know what you were doing when you put on that tight fitting sweater and your legwarmers in price’s signature blue. in some way, it felt like a mark of their claim on you. they’d certainly been hanging around you more since that night at the bar, but whatever they were doing felt more respectful than the usual “pissing a circle around what’s theirs” routine that you’d become accustomed to from men. and not only was it more polite, it was coming from all of them.

johnny was getting handsy with you. not in a way that crossed your boundaries, but in a way that you barely noticed it was happening. a hand on your thigh when he laughed at your jokes, an arm around your shoulders or back to gently guide you through a crowd. price (john, he’d told you to call him) leaned in closer when he talked to you, his body fully angled towards you as he hung on your every word. you had his full attention any time you opened your mouth, no matter how trivial the comment. not only that, but he would shush anyone else who tried to talk over you. 

kyle opened up, confided in you. he would text you when he felt like he was having an off day, and in return, you’d share with him some encouragement or help to reframe the thoughts in his head. likewise, he was the first person you’d text when it felt like you were stuck in a rut with a skill or couldn’t work out some piece of choreography. and simon? well, he didn’t scowl as much when he was in your presence, and you took it as a win. he’d even offered you a cigarette one night before thinking better of it. “you don’ wan’ your lungs t’be black like mine, lovie.” johnny had told you later that that meant he liked you.

it made you feel like you were already theirs in some way, and they just hadn’t decided to let you in on that secret yet. you didn’t push back against it; there was something strangely comforting about the intimacy that you shared with them. you blended seamlessly into their group of four without the growing pains that came with expanding a social circle. you bantered, you chirped, and you took it as well as you dished it out. one of them, practically.

the sound of them entering the rink, heavy footsteps and simon’s gruff voice blending with johnny’s sharp brogue, snapped you out of your reverie. you finished lacing your skates and pulled the guards off, looking up to meet their gaze. kyle noticed you first, waving hello with that sweet smile on his face that you’d come to love. as your eyes scanned over the group, meeting each of their gazes in turn, you could’ve sworn you saw simon drop johnny’s hand. were they…? no, surely not. “skatin’ today, dove?” price’s voice echoed in the expanse of the empty rink. you smiled back at them, tying the last knot on your skate and standing from the bench. “yeah,” you responded, pulling your legwarmers up. you almost wanted him to notice. “got a competition coming up in a few weeks and i’m training a new routine.” price’s gaze followed your hands, smirking when he saw the color. the same royal blue as the tape on his stick and the mouthguard in his bag. cheeky thing. 

as you step onto the ice, the four of them shuck their coats and hoodies, revealing sweatshirts and athletic wear. johnny and kyle always trained in compression shirts, the fabric clinging to the contours of each muscle. if you looked hard enough (and you did), you could see the outline of their pecs. they might as well have been shirtless for all you stared at them. price and simon opted for something more utilitarian, sweatshirts that would keep them warm and give them good range of motion. it didn’t stop you from watching the way their bodies twisted and stretched, craving those slivers of skin that would peek out when they practiced their shots.

god, you really were feral. shaking your head to regain your focus, you skate around in circles for a while, getting your bearings on the ice. it always required a little bit of adjustment for you. you had to settle into a groove, change your mindset so that you could train effectively. you give the boys one last wave as they step onto the ice before slipping your headphones on and drowning out the world.

when you skated, everything else fell away. it was just you and the scrape of your skates on the ice, and even that was dulled. it felt like floating, second nature to you. there was a grace to skating that rubber-soled shoes on pavement didn’t afford you. you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling for only a few minutes before locking in and concentrating. the routine, the competition, the pressure. you take a deep breath, pulling out your phone and changing the song. “thunderstruck” by AC/DC. not what you would’ve chosen for yourself, but your coach insisted on diversifying your display. you hit your starting pose, glancing past the four of them at the other end of the ice. the guitar thrums in your ears and you begin.

price wasn’t quite sure when he’d stopped barking orders and calling plays to run, but he had. all four of them stood on the other side of center ice, their laser focus on the puck broken by your performance. they couldn’t hear the song, but you enraptured them all the same. your movements sharp, precise. your balance was something they marvelled at. how were you able to spin that fast without falling? each jump had johnny and price’s eyes sparkling, simon holding his breath, and kyle counting your turns in the air. they shared a knowing glance when your back was turned to them. that’s our skater.

you wound up for a double axle, a jump you’d landed a thousand times before. you knew exactly how to shift your weight, when to push off the ice, how to position your legs for a smooth landing. as you gained momentum, skating backwards, you caught sight of them watching. their eyes were locked on you, watching your every move with interest and a pinch of something else. you could get lost in their eyes, you thought. each and every pair of them. johnny and price’s blues, simon’s and kyle’s browns. they were all so beautiful in their own way, so much depth to them. you feel your skates leave the ice before you’re prepared for it, muscle memory taking over to propel you upwards. you tense in surprise, which stops your leg from positioning the way it needs to to land properly. as a result, you fall, hip slamming onto the ice.

before you can even register the pain, all four of them are surrounding you, helping you up and dusting you off. your headphones have fallen off, letting you hear them fuss and fret over you. “y’alright, bonnie?” johnny asks, holding one of your shoulders. price is holding your hip, kyle is skating over to grab your headphones, and simon is watching from a healthy distance. it almost makes you laugh. they take harder hits on the ice every time they play, but the moment it’s you, it’s as if you were fine china. you brush the ice off your sweater, looking between all of them. “i’m fine, i swear. just got a little distracted, that’s all.” as if they could read your mind, emotion flickers across all of their faces in its own way. without you even saying it, they know the distraction was them. kyle looks almost guilty and price does too. johnny looks strangely smug, as if he’s proud of having been distracting to you. simon’s hands tighten almost imperceptibly around his biceps. “be more careful, lovie,” he grunts, the four of them skating back to their side of the ice.

you take a moment to recover from the thrill of being called “lovie” before slipping your headphones back on and starting the choreography over.

the boys had an away game this week. it felt odd to be sitting at home, nursing a glass of wine as you refreshed the score on the team’s webpage. you would much rather have been in the stands, cheering them on and feeling the energy of the crowd as they played. watching the timer tick down from the comfort of your couch felt…impersonal. it didn’t help when the website was roughly five minutes behind the actual game clock. you supposed you couldn’t be too upset, though. the poor intern that updated the site probably didn’t even know anyone was using it.

you go between watching some home improvement show on TV and refreshing the website. each time you did, you were met with their faces towards the bottom of the screen. player stat sheets, each one with a headshot of the boys looking determined or smug. price’s picture oozed confidence, the way a team captain should. his chin tilted up, his jaw set. it was attractive, you realized. simon was stony-faced in his picture, staring down the camera like it owed him money. you could barely see the scar on his chin, an accident from when he’d played hockey in his childhood if price was to be believed. johnny and kyle were all smug smiles, holding their sticks beside their faces.

the third period was rapidly ending, two minutes of play time remaining. your boys were down by one goal. your eyes flicked between the scoreboard and the pictures, finally settling on the latter. after that day on the ice with them, you’d had complicated feelings that you weren’t sure how to work out. they were good friends to you, great friends even. but that hadn’t stopped the butterflies in your stomach. your heart didn’t seem to want to cooperate with your head when it came to them. rationally, you knew that romantic feelings could wreck friendships. you’d seen it happen far too often and you never liked the ending. still, it was growing into something that was harder to ignore. the feeling screamed at you, thumped at your ribcage and demanded to be noticed. every time you were on the ice with them, every time you watched them play, you felt it clawing to get out.

to make matters worse, it was all four of them that had pulled your attention in. it couldn’t have just been one. just my luck, you think. they all scratched a different itch for you. price was that domineering, masculine presence that you loved. never let you open your own door, never let you pull out your own chair. a perfect gentleman in every sense of the word. simon was the dark and brooding type, the one that you always read about in those romance novels of yours. he was mysterious, keeping you at arm’s length and making you want to learn more. you wanted to see through him into his soul, pick it apart and see what it contained. johnny was funny, always cracking a joke or getting a dig in on one of them. he kept you upbeat, optimistic, lighthearted. you always found yourself with a smile on your face when he was around. kyle was gentle in nature. he was artistic, in touch with his feelings. he knew just what to say when you were feeling unmotivated, upset, frustrated.

and for all those reasons, and more, you were pretty sure you were starting to love them. it was creeping in slowly, but you weren’t sure you could stop its approach. it felt relentless, inevitable.

you refresh the website again to see the final score. 2-1, a loss for price’s team. you sigh, disappointed on their behalf. kyle had told you how much they were looking forward to this game, how they’d prepared for it. you figured it had to be a weighty loss. so, you did what any good friend would do; you pulled up your messages and texted johnny.

simon stomped into the locker room, head hung and shoulders slumped. he’d come so close to a goal in the third period. the game had almost been tied, and he’s pretty sure he would’ve felt better about the loss if it went into overtime. he sat down heavily on the bench, his head in his hands. he had the tendency to take losses personally. he always had, even when he was playing in the youth league. a losing score meant he hadn’t protected his team well enough. he could’ve hit harder, skated faster.

johnny’s hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it. he must’ve been sitting there a while, because soap was already out of his gear and showered. “happens t’everyone, si,” he said, taking a seat on the bench beside simon. “cannae beat yourself up over it. we all coulda done better.” simon huffed as johnny’s fingers dug into his tense muscles. he’d taken a couple of hard hits tonight and he could feel the ache settling in. “i know, johnny. i know.” he turned, rifling around in his bag for a bottle of ibuprofen. johnny somehow doubted that he knew, but he chose to let it go.

“where’s the captain and gaz?” simon asked, popping two pills in his mouth and downing them with water. johnny chuckled, wrapping an arm around simon’s shoulders. “still in the shower when i left ‘em. y’know how price gets after these games. kyle’s helpin’ ‘im work it out.” simon gave a grunt in reply, laying a hand on johnny’s thigh. “wish they’d hurry up,” he grumbled. “wanna get home and forget ‘bout this shitshow of a game.” johnny smirked, his fingers tugging at the sleeve of simon’s jersey. “we could kill some time,” he said teasingly, scooting impossibly closer to simon. “i know you need some stress relief too. my big, scary guard dog.”

simon’s eyes flicked up, taking in johnny’s smug little smile. most days, he wouldn’t give in, but it’d been a rough night. he deserved it. just as he leaned in, johnny’s phone vibrated on the bench, stopping his momentum. johnny gave him an apologetic look before reaching behind and grabbing his phone. his eyes lit up when your name popped up on the screen, your message displayed right below it. “tough loss. i know you all gave it everything you had though! i’m proud of you! <3”

he smiled, turning his phone around to show simon the message. simon read it slowly, taking in every word and letting out a little laugh when he saw the heart at the end. somehow, that praise from you made the pressure on his shoulders a little lighter. “call ‘er.” his voice was certain, resolute in its command. johnny chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled up your contact info. “you’re insatiable, ghost. gonna scare the lass off at this rate.” still, he pressed the call button, putting the phone on speaker.

two rings and you picked up, your voice coming through the tinny phone speakers. “hello? johnny?” “yeah, ‘m here, lass,” he said, looking up at simon as if to ask for permission to let you know he was here too. simon nodded, his eyes fixed on your contact photo. it was a cropped group photo of all five of you, your smile beaming at him through the phone screen. he swore he could feel the warmth of it from here. “simon’s here too. jus’ gettin’ ready to pack up our gear and head home,” johnny said, holding the speaker closer to their ears so that they could both hear you better.

“i’m sorry about the game,” you said, the memory of it coming back and sending a jolt of disappointment through both of them. johnny started to reply, but price and kyle came walking back into the locker room, looking the very picture of bliss. their skin flushed, water dripping from their hair. kyle looked particularly satisfied, wearing a few new marks on his neck to show how helpful he’d been to his captain. johnny couldn’t help but stare, lost in thought for a moment as he imagined just what they’d done behind that curtain. he’d heard the moans, but what he wouldn’t have given to watch.

“‘s alright, lovie,” simon grumbled, nudging johnny to remind him of who was on the phone. he’d had an agenda when he asked johnny to call you, and it wouldn’t do if everyone was distracted by each other. he glanced up to price, the two of them sharing a conversation beyond words. the raising of eyebrows, the curious cock of a head, and then a nod. simon cleared his throat, leaning a bit closer to the phone. “wanna grab a coffee with us when we get back tomorrow? got some things we wanna talk to you ‘bout.”

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew @kaoyamamegami @lolly145 @linaangel @bestbookfriends

[shieldofiron]

Hello Miss Shieldofiron what do you think about a harringrove one night stand but when Steve wakes up he realises Billy has train bedsheets

The morning light has a golden glow. So do Billy's curls, like spun sunshine.

What can Steve say. The sex was good. Makes him sappy and soft.

He raises his head a little from the pillow and presses a kiss to Billy's cheek, nuzzling him softly.

He smells like cigarettes and cologne and he looks so good wearing nothing. In his sleep he's pulled the sheets up over his chest and it's kind of cute. Billy snuffles, and Steve can tell he's woken up. Maybe they'll go to a diner or something. Maybe they can be on a date all day long.

Steve squints at the sheets for a second before they start to make sense.

He glances up and meets Billy's eyes.

"Are those-"

"Fuck off!"

"Thomas the-" He's cut off when Billy covers his mouth with a warm hand but the muffled sound is pretty damning.

"It's laundry day. They were a novelty gift from Lucas, for secret santa-" Billy's face is so red. "Shut up!"

Steve pushes Billy's hand away, "I didn't even know they made them for queen size beds."

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!" Steve grins. "It's cute. Cute as hell, actually."

"Shut-"

Steve puts his hand over Billy's mouth, and then kisses the back of his own hand, eyes never leaving Billy's.

"Stop."

Billy squirms, but some of the stiffness leaves his shoulders.

"I like you, Billy. I like your Thomas the Tank Engine sheets. Now stop telling me to shut up, or adorable stories about secret santa," Steve smiles. "I can only get so turned on, okay?"

Billy blinks at him, and then goes all soft, letting Steve fall between his thighs.

"Now," Steve removes his hand, grinning. "I hear you like trains. Care for a railing?"

[kivino]

PROBLEM I || HIGURUMA HIROMI X COWORKER!READER

sum. You have quite a crush on your coworker, but don’t know how to approach it. The opportunity to do something presents itself when you both get invited for drinks after not-so-voluntary overtime. 

tags. Suggestive themes, so MDNI; Canon divergent; Higuruma and reader work at a law firm; Japanese work culture is a warning in itself; Reader is a foreigner in Japan but it’s a little glazed over; fluff; cigarettes; alcohol consumption, obviously; Higuruma is a lightweight and a dork, I stand by that.

w.c. 3.4-ish

a.n. I’ve been having this Higuruma itch that needed a scratch (save me overworked lawyer disappointed in the justice system, save me), so I wrote this little fic! Plus forced myself to omit all the Japanese honorifics used cause apparently you kids find it cringe (/lh). Enjoy, and please, reblog/leave a comment, I really want to know what you all think and if I should continue writing for JJK. I’m planning to make a part two for this, so stay tuned!

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link to this fic || ko-fi

You feel completely lost. Not even lost, abandoned by your consciousness. And not in the tall pillars of paperwork on your desk, that threatened to fall over with a single blow of air from the AC blasting over your desk, as you should be. No-no-no, you’re lost in Hiromi’s deep, almost pitch-black eyes, so mesmerizing that you felt like you were falling right into their endless, warm void. Well, you were not supposed to be calling him Hiromi, it was Higuruma for you. “For now.” – you encouraged yourself. You’ll get there with him. Eventually. 

It only occasionally occurs to you that you were behaving like a dreamy-eyed middle-schooler…again. All that development of your frontal lobe goes right smack-dab into the trash when you notice those tired eyes stop on you for a split second as Higuruma gives you a polite nod with his lips twitching upwards, almost attempting a smile. Even in spite of the sheer exhaustion he is exuding all around. 

You don’t even have to look at him to notice how tired the man is – when you come into work, fifteen minutes earlier, just like everyone else in your firm, you see him sitting in his chair already, reading endless police reports, typing away on his computer, arranging for meetings with witnesses or clients. Even when you are heading for the elevator, calling out “Good job today” to the last people left in the office, hurrying for your last train home – Hiromi is glued to his visibly uncomfortable chair, his head almost bumping into keyboard as he wrestled with the sleep clouding his eyes. And even if you don’t see him around his desk – he is probably out somewhere, hounding for evidence on the case. 

Or in the smoking room. God, after you realize where Hiromi spends at least thirty minutes a day, you consider picking up smoking just to have an excuse to get to know him better. He’s definitely a bad influence on you.

But how can he not be? You physically can’t stop yourself from staring at him when you see him through the glass door of the smoking room, leaned on the wall, droopy half-lidded eyes looking up at the ceiling, dark long lashes pretty as a picture. You can’t help but imagine these puffy eyes tearing up or rolling into the back of his head along with his mouth falling open in a delicious silent plea; or looking down on you with mad fixation that would make liquid heat pool between your thighs. 

And you won’t even get started on his nose. The graceful arch of it, the perfect angle to…You stop before you stray too far, instead letting your mind wander to those beautiful eyes once more, intense and overwhelming, picturing desire clouding them until there is nothing but scorching fire burning up your skin, accompanied by Hiromi’s soft sighs, raspy whines or gentle praise, with those incredible voice cracks he would develop when he was oh-so-exhausted after a long day… you wonder how he would sound, as you grasp and store away in your memory each time your name is called by Higuruma.

Your eyes find your coworker once again at his desk, his deft hands are typing something out on the computer. You can see the way Hiromi’s fingers move, and your thoughts immediately settle on the image of them gently running over your thigh, hooking at the belt loops just to pull you into his warm, frail, charmingly pathetic form. You сan practically melt into a puddle, when your mind gets to his warm, large palms settling on your hips, setting electric currents running right to you brain, when the object of your fantasies suddenly catches your eyes on him. You can feel your heartbeat fall down somewhere to your feet – you’ve been caught! But before you can see how Higuruma reacts…

“Ah, Shimizu! Well done today!” you say with a polite nod to your coworker who emerges right in front of your desk, visibly ready to go home after yet another day’s grueling overtime – cute, mindful bag in her hand, work costume wrinkled after hours of sitting in one place; interrupting your session of staring at your higher-up. Which is probably for the best, you think. You are new compared to everyone else, you are supposed to be working twice as harder, not dedicating your time to undressing the poor, exhausted Higuruma with your eyes. All of a sudden, you feel shame burn at your cheeks. Just a tiny little bit. 

“Oh, not at all, you’re too kind!” Shimizu denies the praise with the dismissive wave of her hand, but you can see that she’s just being polite because you don’t know each other too well. “Yet” – You add in your mind. You’ll be accepted here, you just need a little time. “How are you settling in? Everyone’s nice to our cute kouhai I hope?” 

“Oh, yes! Everyone’s very kind! I’m looking forward to working and getting along with everyone in the future!” You say and add another small bow for emphasis – even though you are already hired it was instrumental to make the right impression on your coworkers. 

“That’s great to hear! About that actually…” You tense up for a moment, already running millions of possible scenarios through your mind. Did someone write you up or complain? That would be very typical for what you were used to here – no direct confrontation with you, instead an anonymous complaint made to HR and you’re out of here faster than you can apologize. Or maybe it’s a complaint from Higuruma himself, fed up with being stared at like he was a piece of meat, by “the foreigner” of the firm no less. You can feel your legs shake under a flimsy desk. “We’re going out for drinks! You’re going, right?”

Okay, false alarm. You are prepared for something like this. Shimizu was obviously putting you in a position where you’re not supposed to decline…But you were so tired, and the workload this week was just horrible, along with all the hours of overtime you did-

“Oh, and Higuruma’s going too.”

Come to think of it, you actually feel pretty energized and ready to go. You don’t catch the cheeky smile Shimizu sends over her shoulder to the previously mentioned man, and the most precious, thankful look he gives her in response.

“I-I suppose it wouldn’t hurt...” you mutter, trying your hardest not to seem as desperate as you are in actuality, to have an opportunity to finally get to know Hiromi somewhere outside work. This work crush has been driving you up the wall for too long, might as well start acting on it, if it’s here to stay. Maybe you’ll get to be friends with Hiromi, and that will resolve your yearning for him. It always dissipates when the person you desire is right by your side. 

However, you don’t get an opportunity for a one-on-one with Higuruma that you hoped for until much later in the night. You caught stray looks from him multiple times, but each time Hiromi met your eyes he would look away in an instant, with his neck turning so hard you were half-sure you could hear it crack. It felt pretty discouraging, looking at him silently pour the drinks down the hatch from the other side of the table, without even attempting to talk to you, while others were trying their best to make you feel welcome. Hiromi just made you so…confused.  

So, you decide to step out for a moment, lost in your thoughts. Lo and behold, there is the man of the hour himself, leaned up against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers. You are surprised at how he can stand up straight, after all these drinks he consumed without eating anything (and you’re pretty sure you didn’t see him eat lunch either), but you just settle on the fact that Hiromi might just be like that – a mystery to you. His face is barely illuminated by the low light pouring out of the windows of the izakaya, a slight flush on his tan cheeks making your mind travel places. 

“Can I have one?” You blurt out, before you can stop yourself. Oh, this is so stupid. You can feel your face heat up, and not even a gentle autumn breeze is able to cool you down at the moment. Oh, you were so about to screw up all of this. Nevertheless, you slowly approach him, as Hiromi’s head slowly turns to you and you can see a corner of his mouth twitch when he registers it’s you speaking. Huh. Interesting. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Hiromi mumbles, taking a pack out of his pocket, clumsy fingers struggling to pull out a cigarette for you. Well, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to see you smoke, since you only did that if you were drunk or stressed out. “I never saw you in the smoking room. Though, saw you pass by. Quite a lot.” Higuruma continues rambling, his head tilted forwards, eyes unsure and watery, staring up from under his eyebrows, focused solely on you. You can practically feel yourself getting hypnotized by the absolutely charming puppy dog eyes Hiromi is giving you, to the point of not noticing the man offering you the cig you just asked for a couple of seconds ago. 

“Uh, yeah. Guilty as charged.” You chuckle, not finding anything better to say, as you gently take what you’re offered. The silence falls over both of you, as your lips squeeze the “cancer stick” between them, Higuruma now fumbles to find a lighter. Well, it’s your chance to talk, but you, sadly, find yourself lost for words. 

Hiromi, much like yourself, cannot find the courage to speak up, as his eyes keep trailing back to your face, now more stunning than ever, surrounded by the blue air of the night instead of synthetic fluorescent lights of the office that rarely do justice to your beauty. He definitely overdid it with the liquid courage. Now he can’t muster up a thought to strike up a conversation with you. And it was supposed to be a chance for him to get to know you better, in an informal way. Way to go, you absolute nutjob. 

“You seem to be a very hard worker, Higuruma. I thought you’d stay for overtime instead of going out for drinks.” You finally say what’s on your mind, when you see Hiromi can’t seem to find the lighter he’s been looking for, for the past minute, maybe. 

“Well, first I was staying so long because of work, and now it’s because of you.” Hiromi blurts out with his eyes looking right at you. When the man finally realizes what he just said, his eyes are immediately drawn downwards, avoiding yours.

“What?” You look at him, for a moment thinking that your hearing gave up on you. Higuruma didn’t just say what you heard him say, right?

“What?” Hiromi’s tone is neutral and even calm, but behind it he was panicking. Why in the hell did he just say that?! He definitely weirded you out and now everything will fall apart, all thanks to his absolute inability to handle his liquor better. “I mean, you need someone to look at while you work, right? Might as well be me.” What was he talking about? If you weren’t standing right in front of him, so perfect and beautiful in the dim lights, with your hair exquisitely disheveled, and his eyes getting drawn to your figure in all the right places, his hands would definitely fly up to his face in exasperation at his sheer stupidity.

“You’re funny.” You finally chuckle out in a hushed tone, like you were saying something absolutely scandalous, and not just bashfully stating your opinion.

“No, I’m just drunk.” He states rather bluntly, and you’re taken aback for a moment. “I’m actually a lightweight. Without...” Higuruma makes a vague gesture with his hand, which you take as him referring to the copious amounts of alcohol running through his blood at the moment. “…I’d be too scared to talk to you.”

“Huh? Why would you be scared to talk to me?” You respond with yet another breathy laugh, feeling an incredibly strong surge of confidence, hearing that the whole time this grown man was scared of approaching you – polite and shy newbie, deeply infatuated with…everything about him. Which, Hiromi was so luckily and obviously unaware of.

“You’re just…” The unintentional pause is much shorter than it feels like, as a sudden hiccup interrupts his heartfelt confession. “Very…gorgeous. But uh…in a professional sense.” You can hear an uneven crack in Higuruma’s voice, and if for someone else it would’ve been a turn-off, you can already feel how breathing suddenly becomes a thing you need to be aware of. “Or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” You echo, with an amused smile tugging at your lips, as an idea dawns on you out of the blue. “Higuruma, could you…” you trail off, immediately bringing his attention to whatever you were about to ask of him. Oh, he was ready to do anything you’d ask. Jump? With pleasure. Drop down to his knees? Gladly. Kiss you? Please.

He freezes in place, as you lean closer to him, a surge of previously known, but supressed feelings rising with a tremble in his chest. The end of your cigarette touches a little burning cherry at the end of his, your eyes slowly drift up to his own, producing an incomprehensible, fiery spark when your gazes meet. Higuruma almost thinks the ground disappeared from under his feet right that moment, because in little less than a second of staring into your eyes like that, alluring, precious gemstones pulling him in with a siren’s song, he’s falling. Hard.

Hiromi’s face doesn’t hide even a sliver of what he’s experiencing at the moment, as he looks at you in awe, half-way sure that his heart is about to burst in a million of pieces while you’re lighting your cigarette with his. He wishes this moment would go on forever. He wished you’d reach out to him, throw out the damn cigarettes, close the miniscule distance that felt like kilometres and kiss him, so hard he’d surely loose his mind for you completely.

The seconds feel like hours, electricity and warmth bouncing inside of him, while cold air blows on his skin, failing to cool him down from the mad high he was experiencing just from your presence, so distant and at the same time, close.

“Thanks.” You mutter a short response, tactfully making a point not to mention the way his face got even redder (which you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are). Your lips wrap around the cigarette, inhaling the smoke, the slight hit of nicotine dulling your senses for a moment making you flutter your eyelashes in pleasure.

“You’re always…a problem.” He responds, quietly, and you arch your brow at his strange response. Higuruma immediately looks horrified as it dawns on him just what exactly he said in his…rather unsuccessful attempt to articulate his thoughts, as you mumble out an unsure “excuse me?”. Hiromi’s hands fly up to meet his face, exasperated sigh leaving his lips. Why did he always had to be…like this? He was confident and easily able to keep a cool head in the courtroom, faced with people representing and facing justice. Why, why was he losing face in front of you of all people? It was frankly frustrating, and he…

“Ha-ha-ha…I am, aren’t I?” You return playfully, seeing the sheer distress on Hiromi’s face and deciding to play off his probably unintentional slip-up as a joke. He didn’t, couldn’t mean what he said, right? He was always friendly (even if a little distant, but who weren’t like that to new, unfamiliar people, right?), polite…Unless?

“No! No! That’s not what I was trying to say…” Hiromi immediately corrects himself, a little too eager to fix the mistake he’s sure might cost him your precious attention at the moment. He can’t lose it. He absolutely cannot wait until the next drinking party to get close to you. It already feels like too much - keeping himself in reigns, containing the burn that threatens that spill over from the mere gaze that felt too intimate for his drunk consciousness.

Well…not that you aren’t an actual problem. It’s hard to concentrate whenever you are in the room. Higuruma’s eyes would inevitably drift over to you, observing every motion of your form, desperate for any sliver of attention from you. Didn’t matter if it was a polite nod, a quick half-bow or a smile, he always felt a dull ache in his chest, because that was not enough to satiate the hunger for you, cramping up in his insides, making him feel like he was utterly starved. And he definitely was. For affection, for gentle touch, for a soothing hand and for tenderness that came with it. Yeah, you were definitely a problem. One that needed an immediate solution.

“I was trying to say that…you’re always welcome and it’s not a problem. At the same time.” He finally managed to mutter out, explaining himself. A smile grazes your lips at that, and he can’t help himself but think how he wants be graced by the beauty of that smile first thing when he wakes up the morning. That would make going to sleep at night so much easier.

“Well, I’m glad that you don’t think I’m a problem then.” You say with a tiny laugh. Well, Hiromi didn’t exactly say that, but….

“Of course not. You’re…” Higuruma stops for a moment, before a sudden hiccup shakes his form. You stifle a chuckle from how cute for some reason it was, to hear a frown man hiccupping much like an overfed kitten. “Very hard-working. A good addition to the team.” He gives you a verdict with a nod, further solidifying his words. At that point, he wasn’t even sure what he was talking about, but that’s the first chance he ever got to talk to you informally, and by God, he’s going to make use of it. “If you ask me, you’ve got what it takes to be a great permanent addition.” To him, a sudden thought rushed through his mind, but he managed to keep his lips sealed.

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Higuruma.” You say with another one of your pleasant smiles and nods to him, taking another drag of your cigarettes and blowing the smoke out to the side, blissfully unaware of how Hiromi’s droopy, desperate eyes fixated on the pout of your lips. You were truly thankful he had this opinion, but life-time contracts? Here? As a foreigner? It would be easier for you to get to the moon and back, than receive an offer like that.

“You know you can just call me Hiromi, right?” He almost whispered, not daring to meet your eyes after such a bold move on his part. You felt your heart leap inside your chest. If you weren’t right in front of the man, you’d start kicking your feet, giggling, then you’d scream in a pillow, run a couple of laps, high-five yourself and finally face-plant into the asphalt victoriously, but you were a responsible adult, so you had to keep those teenage-esque urges inside of yourself. Despite how much you wanted to let them out at times.

“Alright then…Hiromi.” You knew what you’re doing to him. You had to, right? Because how can your voice can get so alluring and sultry all of a sudden while saying his name? Why did you whisper it, rolling it around between your pretty lips, almost like you were tasting a candy? Higuruma was a goner, that’s for sure.

Higuruma can’t help, but look into your eyes, marvel at you smile and the way your eyes glimmer in the low lighting, how the perfect curve of your lips calls for him, and how your hips beg to rest his hands on them. In that moment he only can think with nothing but his heart, that keeps shoving the thought that rest like honey on his tongue.

He needs you. Utterly and completely.

“So…do you want to have another drink? On me, of course.”

Hiromi takes his shot, and he’s not going to miss it.  

check out this masterlist for more jjk fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

[lovifie]

Simon was in complete awe of your captivating persona from the very beginning. He always imagined you as a serene, well-read, and graceful princess. Your persona was so angelic that he believed you descended from the heavens. He assumed you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, surrounded by opulence and luxury. But all of his preconceptions changed when he met your parents at a family dinner. To his surprise, your dad was a retired veteran colonel, and your mom was a retired military pilot. They were acting cruelly…hell even the children at the dinner…The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, that you and your siblings were raised to be soldiers, and your training began from childhood….

This is the second time I write it because the only time I chose to write directly on Tumblr.com it bugged and deleted it (I wanna rip my eyes off) Hope that you like it 🩷

Extra bit - Extra bit x2

It was a dinner arranged by your parents, the whole team was invited. You thought about not saying anything, keep to yourself and tell your parents the team said no. But they would read right through you, and the moment you mentioned the team was sold.

Now, Simon used to think that you came for an extremely wealthy family. That you joined the military in an act of rebellion, that you could have easily chosen an easier job because you wouldn't have to worry about money in your life. You always move so gracefully while fighting, always so serene when talking, he had yet to see you cry or get mad. Almost like a porcelain door.

What he didn't know was that it was simply a mask that had been forced upon you by your parents. And it was during the dinner that he started to see the little cracks.

He finally saw you be tense, every thread of your person pulled to their limit ready to snap. He understood why you always seemed so relaxed under Price's orders. In comparison to your parents, the man was a loving mother. At some point they even expressed their doubts even of the captain's abilities. He didn't even want to think about how much self doubt they have helped you form.

It slowly started to make sense, how he would never see you in the mess hall. Always working, always training, always practicing, always studying, always getting better.

He looked at your siblings, younger, worse at hiding their emotions. He could see their tiredness, their fear of your parents. You have seated yourself between your father and your siblings. Trusting more to seat them next to Ghost than your own parents.

Your youngest sibling was sitting next to him, and when he noticed them looking up to them he looked back. The kid didn't even look away, and Ghost winked at them making the slightest smile appear on his tiny face.

“We are eating.” Your mother chastised, your sibling face terrified as he went back to eating. It didn't escape him the way you jump, not the slight disgusted expression it put onto your father when you did.

He standed up, motioning you to follow him outside. You panic for a second, forgetting that you no longer lived in your parents house and didn't need to be afraid. You slipped through your father's hand, walking behind the lieutenant when he went outside to have a smoke. You sat on the floor, sighing and with tears pricking your eyes from the frustration.

Ghost asked you about it, and you finally let go of it all. You told him about how your parents believe that dying at war is the most noble way out, how the only job valid for them was in the military, how you have never seen them cry, how you were sure that they would never cry if you died, everything.

By the end of it, you were hugging his leg, your head resting on his thigh as he rubbed your head with his hand consoling you.

“Wait here.” He threw the cigarette to the floor, stepping on it and went back inside.

A moment later the four men were out again.

“C’mon, kid.” Price said with a smile on his face. “There's an emergency, let's go.”

Just when you were standing up, drying your tears the door opened.

Your siblings walked out, giggling each with a backpack. “We heard the world needs saving, shall we go?”

And then, with your team and your siblings, you went into the most rundown, almost destroyed pub. Ate the most greasy food that you were certain would give everyone food poisoning and went on to have the best family dinner of your whole life.

[misstycloud]

Bear hybrid

Synopsis: you were on your way to work, when suddenly a bear-hybrid sees you. The look in his eyes says everything you need to know. Not wanting to spend the rest of your life as someone’s possession, you bolt. Too bad he won’t let you get away a second time.

——

Ugh, another long day ahead of me.

You thought tiredly. The long shifts at the diner you worked at really took its toll on you. If you could, you’d quit. But free time wasn’t worth getting starved.

You sighed and stared down at the gum stuck on a trash can. There was a hint of pale pink on it, signaling the colour it was.

Gum sticking to practically every surface in the subway station wasn’t the only defects. There were plastic cups, cigarettes, paper towels and a lot more unidentified items scattered freely.

Frankly, it was disgusting. If the government spent less on hybrid establishment improvement and more on the condition of public spaces, the maybe it wouldn’t look like shit everywhere.

You felt like a shitty person for thinking such things, hybrids have endured thousands of things in the past and now with modern development, they can finally lead satisfactory lives.

However, the government have begun to focus all their attention to the welfare of hybrids and neglecting humans in the process. It wasn’t their fault, you knew that. Still, one couldn’t help what they felt.

It’s not like you disliked hybrids, yet you did not love them either. You were neutral in that department. There were still humans with the old views, but they weren’t as many anymore or they simply didn’t run around telling people since it wouldn’t be very well received. The biggest problem and maybe the only problem you had with hybrids were their mating culture.

Clearly, no one in the relationship had a choice(not that they complained) and suddenly you’re supposed to be together until you die.

And now that they’re allowed to mate with humans legally, there is little that can stop them from forcing their human partner from submitting to their will; living and accept them as a lifelong partner.

It was wrong to force someone into a relationship they clearly express they didn’t want, unfortunately the animal-hybrids did not care for unwanted courting and do what they want anyway.

You shuddered at the thought of being mates to one of those creatures. It must be hell. Especially if you already have a partner previous to meeting them.

The train arrived and you made an annoyed face at how crowded it was. What felt like hundreds of people were squeezed into one cart, rubbing against each other and breathing as one being, making it incredibly warm inside.

You grabbed a pole with your right hand, trying to steady yourself and also liking to have something solid ground you. You’ve seen way to many consequences of people not holding on to anything while standing.

It was uncomfortable. Arms and elbows poked you from all sides, and two teenagers were talking way beyond the proper volume in such a cramped space. You couldn’t wait to get off.

Suddenly, commotion stole your attention elsewhere. Sounds of irritated folk earned everyone’s stares. You heard men and women alike, complaining about movement and pushing.

“Hey, stop pushing me!”

“Don’t look at me, it’s someone else!”

“Alright, who is then?”

Angry remarks were thrown. Not that you could blame them. The uncomfortable ride paired with lack of oxygen were not suited for enjoyable time.

An apologetic voice exclaimed, “Sorry! I need to get through, it’s important. Sorry, didn’t mean to step on your toes!”

Eyes widening and mouth nearly falling wide open, you turn to see the biggest man you’ve ever seen! His form was easily towering above all others, making you think that he was part of the reason why the train cart was so crowded.

The ginormous man had dark brown hair reaching his broad shoulders, the locks were messy and thick, slightly falling in front of his eyes.

What stood out the most however wasn’t his unnatural size. It was the pair of two brown, rounded ears atop his head.

It instantly hit you. The inhuman height was because he wasn’t human at all. He was a hybrid. A bear one at that! One of the most dangerous hybrids there is. While they might not attack unless provoked or caught off guard, meeting one is definitely something most would avoid.

Your heart nearly beat out of your chest when the bear-man’s eyes connected with yours. They were an odd amber colour, you noticed.

Fuck! You shouldn’t have looked his way.

And like the dumbass wannabe-dead, something in your brain forces your gaze back up and you freeze. The look on his face when he sees you. The look. It was the look.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

This could not be happening. It was obvious what was happening. You’d heard about it. On TV. From friends. Seen it in real life. There was no way you could be someone’s mate. Not when you’d spent so many nights praying it wasn’t your fate, since you didn’t want to end up like those humans you’ve heard about.

Well now you knew why he was causing a disturbance on the train. It was to get to you. A hybrid can easily smell its mate hundreds of meters away. He must have smelt you the second you got on that train and gone searching for you.

A squeak escaped your lips as you saw him waving at you while attempting to close the distance. Of course it did not go fast because of all the people between you.

No. You refused to be chained down to some animal. You had to get out. And as if someone above heard you, you heard the train voice speak, “Station X.”

That was your station.

The hybrid seemed to have noticed someone was off, he observed your face before glancing at the approaching platform. Then it clicked in his head.

“No, wait!”

Too late. You were already bolting out the doors, listening to angry comments after you. You only had time to rush a hasted ‘sorry’ before making it on the platform. The man did not have the same luck.

“Don’t go! Please! Don’t leave! No. ”

He desperately tried to shove passed all the passengers to get to the doors, but there was no time left and the doors closed shut before he managed to reach within one meter of them. The wheels of the train were rolling the connected vehicles away.

You had no interest to stay and watch, though. You still had a job to go to and you couldn’t afford to be late, or else your boss would scold you fiercely again.

Half running and half jogging, you hurried to the diner while in deep thought. Had you lost him? Maybe, but probably not forever. As hybrid will stop at nothing to find their mate once they’ve entered their sights. Fuck. My. Life. The next station the train would stop at was a bit away, so perhaps you were lucky this time? If you were careful from now on and don’t go out as much, then you could possibly avoid being found. Also, your work place was somewhat far from the subway.

If you saved up a bit, then you could also by a scent masking spray to hide yourself further. Although it was risky to do that. Because hybrids need a fair chance of finding their mate, masking spray became forbidden after people started using it. So now the only place you can buy it is from shady markets or people who may or may not want to steal your kidneys. Besides all that, it was very costly too.

You dragged a hand through your hair and heaved a deep sigh. What were you going to do?

“Y/N stop daydreamin’ an get back ta work!” Your bosses yelled and slapped you on the back.

Massaging your shoulder you answered, “Sorry boss…”

The diner wasn’t too busy so you had no idea of why he tried to rush you. Sure, there were some customers here and there filling the tables, but you weren’t so understaffed that youd have to srint around like a maniac trying to get everyone’s orders.

Approaching a table with customers, you put on you employe smile, “Hello, what can I get for you today?”

The man looked at the menu an extra time to finalise his decision, “I’ll have the chicken pasta with sundries tomatoes and red wine, can we also order some garlic bread?”

“Yes,” you wrote down the dishes on your small notepad, “and you, ma’am?”

No answer.

“Ma’am?”

But she wasn’t paying any attention to you. It was as if you didn’t even exist, looking passed you like air with wide eyes. Finding this weird you turned back to her husband. Feeling your gaze he chuckled awkwardly.

“Honey? Aren’t you going to order?” She still didn’t respond which forced her husband to see whatever she was focusing so intently on.

It was then you realised they weren’t the only ones acting unusual. In fact, everyone inside the establishment had their eyes turned in the same direction. You swing around to witness the horror.

There, in the resturant entrance stood he. His form creating the illusion of the door being as insignificant as an ant. With heavy breath and droplets of sweat collecting on his forehead, you frantically whirling around until he noticed you.

Dropping your notepad and hand clasping over your mouth, you thought fuck, so I didn’t get rid of him?

Okay, even though it was kinda delusional to believe you could shake him off, you were surpsised he found you so fast. The hybrid wiped his eye and it was then you noted the redness surrounding them, an obvious sign of crying.

He stumbled forward, “There you are, I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to find you!”

Suddenly you were the centre of attention.

“W-what….?” Backing, you feigned ignorance.

“You saw me on the train earlier, I tried to stop you getting off but you took off without warning…” he hung his head in despair.

Yeah, guess why?

“You should leave..”

“Huh? No, I can’t g-“ the hybrid rushed.

“What’s goin’ on ‘ere?” The voice of your boss interrupted. With a deep scowl he paraded into the scene and crossed his arms in a defensive stance as soon as he laid eyes in the bear-man. “W-whatddya you want?” His gruff voice sounded unusually weak. “If there’s any trouble I’ll ‘ave ta call the cops, ya got me?” He said despite appearing like a newborn deer.

A bewildered expression crossed the tall man’s face, “No I’m not here to cause anything! I’m here for someone!” He explained while waving his arms. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect, the humans in the diner cowered lightly at the gesture and he instantly stopped. “Sorry…”

Your boss cleared his throat, “Alright. Who ya ‘ere for?” He’d make that person go with the scary man to make him leave as soon as possible. Not that he’d admit it, but he never liked those hybrid people. They just seemed unreliable it all. Nothing to be trusted. With their animal intincts present and sharp teeth, he couldn’t allow them to be in his resturant. He hadn’t the curious he to blatantly kick them out but he could at least give them what they wanted to make them lose interest as fast as possible.

The bear’s gaze searched yours and your boss put two and two together. “Oi, Y/N, come ‘ere. Someone’s looking for ya!” The man pulled your collar to drag you forward, earning a small frown from the hybrid but it vanished just as quickly.

You refused to look at him, keeping your attention to the floor and praying for him to go away. A rough hand carressed your cheek and you flinched and after hestitation it pulled away.

“Won’t mate look at me..?” A saddened voice said.

A twinge of guilt started brewing in your mind but you pushed it down. “I see this is new to you-being human and all, haha.” He tried to liven up the atmosphere. “Umm…you know what this is, though? Me seeing you and then following you here must be creepy, haha- but it’s not I promise! I just want to love you. Because we’re,” he giggled, “mates!” He happily sighed. “And you know what that is, right? If you don’t it’s fine, I’ll tell you. Being mates is loving someone no matter what, be it looks or personality nothing is important. Mates take care of each other, providing for your mate and making them happy is the best feeling in the world! There doesn’t exist anything that can compare!- not that I know that personally or anything since I haven’t had a mate before but I’ve heard from all my friends who have mates. Oh, I’m so jealous of them whenever I see them together with their mates doing fun things. Though it doesn’t really matter what you’re doing as long as it’s with your ma-“

“Please stop!” You yell, several customers flinch at your tone, not that you cared anymore. Having to listen to his constant talk about being mates had brought you over your boiling point. The man silenced at your exclamation. “Sorry, but I don’t give a shit about all this mate stuff or whatever- it doesn’t mean anything to me so please leave! I’m sorry that this isn’t what you want to hear but I have no interest in being your mate, not now, not ever.” You pointed at the door. “So go.”

The hybrid was stunned and stood quiet, appearing hurt. Then your boss promptly spoke, “Y/N, you showing speak to someone like that! Especially someone who loves you so much!”

“Huh?” What the hell was he going on about? He never cared for hybrids, certainly not their feelings. You’ve heard all those thing he said about them when he thought no one was listening.

“Clark.” The hybrid said and lowered his head.

“What?”

“My name- I apologise. I shouldn’t have barged in here expecting you to be chill about everything, I’m a fool. I’m just a stranger to you. The least I could do is tell you my name.” The apology sounded so sincere.

“No, it’s uh- fine..” you scratched your arm anxiously. Luckily he seems pretty nice and not someone who would just take their mate and go; it’s happened before. Perhaps you’ve got a chance?

“Oh come on Y/N! Give the poor fella a chance!”

You crash into the giant’s chest from the shove.

“He clearly loves you!

What the hell was he going on about?

Strange that the man was encouraging your reunion, you thought.

“Actually, since I’m so nice, why don’ I do ya a favour and let ya go? Someone like ya shouldn’t have to work in a place like this. This’a happy day!” Then he pointed at the beak room, “Get ya stuff and celebrate.”

“Excuse me-wha- let me go? As in I’m fired?” Your brain tried to comprehend what just happened and words fell out in unfinished sentences. Despite yourself, you fixed your eyes at Clark.

“Don’ worry he’ll be ‘ere when ya get back!” The rough man shooed you towards the break room.

Having no choice but to comply, you do as he wishes and abandons the scene, which might’ve been the best thing really, the continued staring of the present customers was starting to make you uncomfortable.

Glaring at your locker like it was the cause of your I’ll mood, you harshly ripped your jacket off the hook and stuffed some scattered items back in your bag. You could not believe it. Fired? You? You have been nothing but a good employee at the diner, even taking all the shit from the boss and not complaining once.

Through the small window in the door, you spot the cause of your troubles thoughts walking by. Angrily you grab his arm and pull him inside the room, a surprised noise leaving him.

“What the hell, why am I being laid off? I haven’t done anything.”

He expressed a long breath. “Sorry, but I can’t ‘ave some brute hangin ‘round here ‘cause of you, customer don’t like it and I won’t sacrifice my business for someone like you. Surely you understand.”

“He won’t hang around the diner, we’re not together! Besides, it not my fault!” You pleaded with him. You needed this job. Without it you’d definitely die in the end.

“Well, we both know he won’t leave so don’ make this any harder than it already is.” He said before leaving to do whatever shit he did instead of being a good manager.

Bullshit. It wasn’t hard at all. In fact, you bet he loved an recuse to get rid of you. He never liked you from the very beginning.

With despair, you left through the back door and as you listened to it close, you did not react to the loud bam of the heavy metal slam. Recalling at how you flinched the first time you went out the back, you clench your fist. How’re you gonna make it now? You doubted you had much savings in the bank.

Making your way to the station, blew passed you that there was still a bear waiting for you so he could properly introduce himself. He was in his own mind so much that he didn’t realise you’d already left until it was too late.

Good that he was born with a great sense of smell. How stupid of him not to consider your perspective in the beginning! Not to worry, he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off the next time. His species didn’t have the best reputation so he understood why you acted the way you did; it still hurt though.

The next time he’d just need to show you he wasn’t dangerous at all.

——

Sorry the ending sucked and was rushed. I wasn’t really sure how I wanted to end it so it turned into this.

[fanaticsnail]

I fell asleep with spotify on and woke up to sea shanties. And in that honor:

Roronoa Zoro loves to drink. Everyone knows this. His high alcohol tolerance means he can usually keep himself in a pleasantly fuzzy state.

Still, there are times where he gets properly drunk. Absolutely blackout sloshed. And this poses the question of what to do with him? How to care for him?

That is, until Sanji joins the crew. See, the rest of the strawhats may be new to this sailing business, but not Sanji. Sanji was raised by pirates on the sea. Rowdy, fun loving, drink loving pirates. And he knows exactly what to do with a drunken sailor.

Snhsiwbehei this is so stupid. Just a silly thing that crossed my mind.

-♡♡ lots of love

Anything for you, ♡♡ Anon. What shall we do with the drunken sailor, indeed? I saw your ask about still thinking on the lazy sleeping Zoro. Thought I'd add a little more lazy swordsman in there for you.

Until The World Stops Spinning

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,000+

Synopsis: You have just come off watch-shift, just as Sanji wanders onto the top deck of the Going Merry. Both of you discuss what to do about Zoro's current state of inebriation. What shall we do with the drunken swordsman...

Themes: Zoro x reader, subtle sanji x reader, drunkenness, smoking, drinking, sleeping, written with the sea shanty "What shall we do with the drunken sailor" in mind.

Notes: I listen to shanties all the time when I write. It's seriously such a vibe. This anon comes up with the best prompts, and I seriously can't. Edit to add: That version above by The Irish Rovers is what I used to dance to when I did Irish dancing as a child. One of the old tunes that made me want to play violin.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Gulls singing their sweet song of the morning lingered in the air, the perch of several flocking members sat proudly atop the top mast of the Going Merry. The chef serving beneath the Straw-Hat captain wandered on the deck to enjoy his morning cigarette after setting aside the morning crepe batter to rise. What greeted him in the morning light was a sorry sight to behold.

The puddle of drool pooling from the corner of the sword wielding first mate’s mouth was indication enough that he was past the point of no return in his drunken stupor. His snore rattled and shook the top deck, the wood almost cracking beneath the intensity of the roar falling from his parted lips. 

Standing over the first mate, arms folded in twine, stood the Going Merry’s latest member: the ship's counselor. 

“Mornin’ chef,” you utter without turning away from the snoring first mate. Sanji pouted with a deep frown while placing the filter of his cigarette between his lips. 

“Good morning, counselor. Good watch shift?” Sanji uttered while striking his flint and lighting the end of his cigarette. You nod, both of you not tearing your eyes away from Zoro as the deep rise and fall of his chest indicated traces of life within his death-like slumber. 

“Not a single thing to report, aside from this thing here, of course,” you uttered, gently tapping your toes against Zoro’s thigh as he slept soundly. Sanji inhaled a lengthy breath of his morning nicotine, exhaling down at the swordsman with a soft scowl on his face. 

“How many'd he have?” Sanji asked tilting his head and examining Zoro as his shaky snore. 

“Around five or six, I think,” you bob your head before further clarifying, “Bottles, not short rounds.” Sanji clicked his tongue at the confirmation, gently shaking his head. 

You turn towards the blonde chef, furrowing your brows and looking at him inquisitively. 

“Chef?” you quirked up at him, prompting him to turn towards you in response, “You've probably had the most experience with inebriated sea-folk. Any quick remedies you can think of for this?”

“I can think of a few cures from the tales of old,” Sanji chuckled, his smile turning more playful with each passing moment. “Shave his belly with a rusty razor comes to mind.” You scoff at him, rolling your eyes with a soft chuckle. 

“Zoro's stomach is as smooth as a baby bird,” you laugh at him, “Not a hair to rid him of, rusty razor and all.” Sanji hummed, pressing his index finger to his chin and thinking further. 

“Put him in the longboat ‘til he's sober is the next classic suggestion,” Sanji took a moment to take a lengthy drag with a deep chuckle, “Or: stick him in the scupper with a hosepipe bottom, is another.”

“The Going Merry has no long boat,” you shrug, looking down at the snoring former pirate hunter and lulling your head to the side, “And I don't think he'd very much enjoy a swift spanking on the meat of his ass with a rubber pipe, in his current state.”

Sanji laughed in a loud and unbridled laugh, placing the cigarette on the ground and dulling it's light with the ball of his foot. 

“Put him in bed with the Captain's daughter, then?” Sanji chuckled in glee, softly nudging your shoulder with his, “That's the only other option in the tales and shanties.” You nudge him in return before nuzzling your head against his bicep. 

“While stringing him upside down by his ankles on the topmast is awfully tempting,” you remove your head from Sanji's arm, “We're better off just moving him and putting him to bed to sleep it off, aren't we? Wanna give me a hand, handsome?” 

“Not really,” Sanji shrugged with a soft chuckle before reaching down and grappling one of Zoro’s heavy legs, “But I will because you asked me so nicely.” You shake your head, reaching down and aiding Sanji in bearing the brunt of the swordsman’s weight to take him below deck where the others began to stir from their sleep. 

As Nami got up from the only bed, Usopp and Luffy rising from the hammocks, you gently aided Sanji in placing Zoro beneath the plush duvet and atop the mattress still warm from Nani's body heat. Shaking her head, Nami fishes a bucket from the side of the room and places it by Zoro’s head. 

Stirring briefly from his drunken stupor, Zoro’s blurred and swirling vision glared up at you all before his gaze softened into a lazy smile. 

“I… I love you guys,” Zoro’s soft, drunken drawl lazily called to you all before turning to gaze at you, “Ya’ done with the nigh’ sh-shift, ‘Selor? Gonna snooze?” 

You look over at the crew, gently giving Sanji's arm a squeeze before he turns to begin breakfast for the crew wandering atop the deck. He smiled in response, gently bobbing his chin up and wordlessly telling you to get some sleep. 

“Yeah, swordsman. I'm gonna 'snooze',” you confirm with him, turning to the hammocks and beginning to choose from the three suspended bed-spaces. Before you were able to move away from Zoro’s bedside, his muscular arms shoot out and snake around your midsection, tugging you into a warm embrace beside him. 

Nuzzling into your hair, he takes a lengthy inhale and groans in joy at the body heat radiating from you.

“S’ay w’th me?” he slurred in question, already beginning to fall into slumber with you tucked in his arms. “Only ‘til th’ room s’ops spinnin’?” Facing away from him, you shake your head with a light smile before moving the duvet up to cover the both of you. 

“Sure, Zoro,” you already feel the weight of your eyelids weighing you down the longer you linger in his embrace, “Only until the room stops spinning.” Both falling asleep almost immediately, a soft shutter of a Den-Den image conductor could be heard mixing with the harmonious snores reverberating within crew quarters.

Nami was going to hold those images over the both of you as ransom for more of a cut from your joint haul on this upcoming adventure. You both slept soundly enough to not care, dreaming of what new horizons lay waiting for you.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Since the mission in Tokyo, you wanted Tangerine out of your life as soon as possible. Instead, he stormed back in to save you from yourself.

Genre: Fluff, Enemies To Lovers <3

Warnings: excessive amount of swearing, sexual themes, canon like violence, mentions of violence, blood, career sexism

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

You were only supposed to snatch a stupid briefcase for your friend, Carver. Instead, your trip ended with a crushed up train, three concussions, one broken arm, multiple bruised egos, and a whole lot of unrequested fun facts about Thomas The Tank Engine.

Oh, and a man you were convinced wanted to become your mortal enemy.

You had heard about the infamous Twins in passing — the Bolivia case mostly — and you never questioned anyone when they assured you they were professionals. At least not until you saw them fuck up more than once in one evening.

You liked Lemon. He was a decent guy, a smart assassin, and he made you laugh with his corny obsession with a children's show.

His brother however — what a fucking asshole!

Tangerine had came in strong with an attitude. He was just eye roll here, sucker punch there, and whine, whine, whine. He also had the worst timing, somehow always running into you whenever you were trying (and failing) to do your fucking job.

He seemed just as irritated by you as you were by him, however it was obvious he loved having you at his mercy: wether that was stuck pressed between the train and his arms, with his gun lodged into your throat, or hearing you say "please" and "thank you" when he swooped in like a devilish knight and saved you from a deadly bullet to the stomach.

Still, you couldn't leave Tangerine's deranged ass quicker once the nightmare that had been that mission was finally over.

You really didn't think you'd see the twins again — certainly not at the same club where you were supposed to carry out your, rather simple, information extraction mission but when you do, your eyes narrow.

Lemon looks mostly casual. His dyed platinum hair is curled around his face as he leans his arm around the booth he's sitting in, casually conversing with another man you don't know.

Standing next to the booth, Tangerine looks even less casual. He's wearing his all too familiar dark blue blazer. His hair and mustache are just as neat as they had been on the train that evening and you smirk. He has a lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he occasionally takes it out and obnoxiously blows smoke into the air.

He looks infuriatingly good.

You cross your arms, watching them from across the room. You look around. Your target hadn't made an appearance yet and in the meantime you'd had to turn down many desperate and drunk men swarming you for your attention.

"Fancy seeing you here, luv." You smirk, hearing his voice, hoarse and velvety, near your ear. He'd found you quickly. Seems like he has a talent for that and you wonder if he'd somehow planted a tracker on you.

"Stalking me now, Orange?" You ask, not even bothering to turn around as you lean on the bar counter and start to intentionally swirl your drink around the glass.

"Tangerine." He corrects.

You turn this time. Your eyes meet his chest and they start to slowly move up until you can look at him in his annoyingly beautiful blue eyes, "Potayto, potahto." You say, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, aren't ya as chirpy as ever, Poppy." Tangerine snarls. Your lips curl hearing the code name you'd used on that train. You've been using it ever since.

You look around seeing your target walk into a small room in the corner of the club. You run a hand in your hair, smack your lips together, and glance nonchalantly at Tangerine. You send him a sweet smile, "Well, Clementine, I always enjoy our little chats but I'm quite busy and don't have time for your potty-mouth right now." You turn away from him.

He catches your arm, "I really wouldn't follow im in there if I were ya, darlin" He warns seriously. You turn around, skeptical, but listen to him anyway.

"Why is that?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Because, luv," Tangerine smirks as he firmly holds your shoulders and turns you both around. Nonchalantly, he gestures towards the door to the little room the man walked into, "That bastard hired Lemon and I to kill ya."

You tense, "What?" You spin around, heart pounding.

"Ya seriously din't think you'd been asked to be a fucking honeypot without any exterior motives?" You feel insulted until Tangerine continues, “You're an assassin, darlin', and a pretty damn fucking good one. Having you as a honeypot is a crime in itself." You realize it's the first time Tangerine has complimented you and he's looking at you with an unusually concerned expression.

"So, what are you waiting for?" You blink, completely serious.

"Excuse me?"

"Kill me." You say calmly, "Since when do you and Lemon not finish a job?"

The brunet looks at you like you've gone completely insane (which maybe you have) and then laughs, "Ya want me to kill ya, doll?" Tangerine genuinely looks like he's just heard the funniest thing in his life. However, his eyes narrow darkly and his hands curl harshly around your arm, "Fine."

Sure, you know Tangerine had been ruthless on that train but you'd also been extremely aware that he'd intentionally missed opportunities he had to kill or badly wound you. So, when he yanks you into the men's bathroom, you panic.

You pull against his arm and push against chest as you try to take out the small knife you always cram inside your boot, but Tangerine is too quick. Your body is suddenly thrown across the bathroom like you're nothing and you crash into the mirror, ribs hitting the sink. You stare at him, eyes fluttering from the pain as you sway on your feet and clutch your side.

Tangerine looks completely unfazed as he struts over to you and then grabs your chin between his fingers so forcefully you unintentionally whimper, "Where's the assassin I met on the train, huh?" He asks, his voice smooth, "Haven't given up so easily, have ya, darlin'?"

You stare at him. He's taunting you. He wants you to fight him. Quickly, you knee him in the groin and side kick him to the ground. He stumbles a little but recovers from the hit. A sensible voice in your head screams at you to run but instead you pull Tangerine up by the collar of his expensive suit and body slam him against the wall, your forearm crushing his throat.

When you look at him, Tangerine is smirking cockily, "Atta' girl." He croaks.

You realize a little too late that the only reason you managed to pin Tangerine to the wall was because he was letting you. The moment he resists, you're the one easily pinned as one of his hands presses your wrists above your head.

Time suddenly feels unimportant as you look into his eyes. “Am I in danger?" You whisper, breathlessly.

Tangerine's stoic expression falters a little and he drops your arms and looks around the bathroom. He turns back to you, running a hand in his hair. “Yes." Your heart leaps, “Lemon and I mean you no harm, but someone else wants you dead, Poppy."

His hand slides down your back as he leads you outside of the bathroom and back into the busy noise of the club. You catch his arm as he walks in front of you, "Tangerine, wait," You say, voice raspy. You watch him turn around. His hair is messy from his hand and he's looking at you like he's never heard you say his name before.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you want to ask him to stay. A little part of you wants him to stay so he can take care of you. Only, you can't ask him that. You've looked after yourself and you've long accepted that that's how it would always be.

"What?" Tangerine frowns, wearing an irritatingly handsome expression for someone that looks so confused and, frankly, a little annoyed.

You frown and, as hard as you can, slap him across the face. From his profile, you can see a dark glimmer appear in his eyes and his jaw tightens. He doesn't react as he slowly looks at you again, and then he can't because you're kissing him.

You bury your nails into his cheeks as he wastes no time to grip your hips with his hands. You kiss him passionately and clumsily — like you've never kissed anyone before but somehow when his lips move against yours it still feels flawless.

"Fuck," Tangerine groans when you bite his lower lip and smile proudly.

He pulls you closer to him and his hand comes up to hold your neck as his fingers bury themselves in your hair. He jerks your head backwards painfully but you groan in approval. Tangerine begins to suck on the skin of your neck like he's been starved of you for years.

You don't want him to pull away when you feel him move so you chase his lips. He chuckles, his voice low, and cups your cheeks in his hands as he looks at you. His eyes are weirdly affectionate for a man who's a cold blooded killer.

"Are you going to turn me in?" You ask him, your face still in his hands.

"What didn't ya understand when I told ya Lemon and I won't cause you any harm?" He rolls his eyes, gently patting your cheek. Slowly, as if savoring the touch of your skin, he slides his hands down your arms and then intertwines your fingers with his, "Come on, we're leaving."

You let him lead you through the sweaty bodies of the dancing crowd until you reach the booth where Lemon sits. He sees his brother and then his eyes flicker to your hands and the corner of his lips curl, "I see you found er," Lemon waves at you.

"Bugger off," Tangerine snarls, hearing something in Lemon's voice that you hadn't, "And get off your fucking arse, Lemon," He adds, "I don't wanna deal with that bloody bastard when he realizes we aren't killing er. I don't want his filth on my suit. I like this suit."

Tangerine lets your hand go to adjust his collar. You cross your arms and look around the club. Accidentally, you make eye contact with someone and your entire body freezes.

He sees you before you can look away. Quickly, you turn to Lemon and Tangerine, who haven't stopped bickering, and slap Tangerine's chest to get his attention. He looks at you, eyebrow raised, "Hate to break up the love-fest boys, but I think our little friend just realized you lads plan on keeping me fucking breathing." You hiss.

"Bloody fucker." Tangerine whispers, his eyes glued on the man approaching you all as Lemon stands. Lemon pulls out his gun and unlocks it with a click. You bend over to take the knife from inside your boot but the moment you have it in your hands, Tangerine snatches it from you and replaces it with his gun.

"I don't want this," You deadpan.

"Don't argue." He squints at you and twirls your knife in his hand.

Ignoring him, you reach for your weapon anyway, "I like my knife, thanks."

Tangerine tuts and holds it above his head, smirking, "Guns are safer, luv." He patronizes.

"Misogynist asshole." You grumble, earning a frown from him.

"Mates, now ain't the time." Lemon interrupts sternly. You look behind him and see that the man who'd hired you to kill him, just for him to kill you, has a few other bulky looking buddies with him and they're much closer than they were earlier.

Without hesitation and because Tangerine is distracted, you manage to jump up and take the knife from his hand. You then proceed to meticulously launch it past the swarm of dancing bodies. With a smoosh it lands smack in the middle of one the men's head and the sound of his body hitting the ground causes a mass panic.

"Fucking brilliant," Tangerine scolds, looking annoyed, "Now ya lost the fucking knife." His hand wraps around your forearm and he whispers in your ear, "And I ain't misogynistic, sweetheart, I just don’t wanna see ya hurt," He admits.

He starts to pull you away but you wiggle out of his grip, "Poppy!" He shouts as you sprint towards the men.

Fuck this, you think, if those motherfuckers want you dead then you won't wait around for them to kill you – you'll kill them first.

You take the man closest to you in a scissor leg takedown, slamming him onto the ground. You snatch your knife from the dead man's head as he lays not far from you and slit the throat of the man you're pinning to the ground. You spin your head around and throw Tangerine his gun. Quickly, he unlocks it and, with Lemon, starts shooting past the innocent civilians and manages to fatally hit a few of the men.

You make your way to the leader and front kick him in the hand so he drops his gun. When he does, you try and bend over to retrieve it from where it fell only the man manages to punch you in the jaw. You stumble over, tears pricking your eyes from the pain, but stand up anyways. "Who the fuck are you?" You demand, returning a punch that the man easily avoids. He backhand slaps you so hard you groan. You fall onto your knees and your knife slides out your hands and across the floor.

"You don't remember me?" The man asks with a snarl, his Irish accent thick.

"No." You hiss, crawling to reach your knife. Only, the man kicks you in the stomach and you can't help the scream that leaves your lips.

You blink, cheeks and palms pressed to the floor as you helplessly watch Tangerine and Lemon in action. There had been more men then you'd anticipated and while the Twins can certainly assert themselves in combat, they're far too concerned with defending themselves to help you.

You feel a hand grip your hair and the man harshly turns you around so he's straddling your hips. He presses your knife against your neck and smiles at you. He's young, clean-shaven, and has moles sprinkled across his cheeks like small freckles. You stare at him only to have him spit in your face. Shutting your eyes, you snap, "What the fuck?" and struggle against him.

"You took everything from me, Y/n." He growls and your heart leaps. He knows your name.

"I don't even know who you are!" You try to buck your hips so he falls but he's too strong.

"You stole my job. The hit on the Senator and his family a few months ago, remember them?" You nod, "Well it was mine and you swooped in and took it from me. My reputation, gone in seconds because of some inexperienced, useless, brat." He rants like a madman and presses the knife harder until it strains crimson.

"Everyone steals jobs, it happens." You explain, voice hoarse.

"And yet you couldn't even finish it."

You can barely breathe anymore. "I couldn't kill the child." You explain.

"I know. I did, and yet you still took all the fucking credit," He smirks and lifts his arm. "You ruined my reputation – everyone said I was beaten to the task by a fucking girl – and now you're gonna pay." You squeeze your eyes shut.

Instead of the pain from the knife you hear one gunshot and suddenly the man collapses onto you. Instantly, you sit up and shove him away. Your head snaps up, eyes wide, to see whoever just shot him.

Tangerine stands over you, tucking his gun back into his pants behind him. There's blood splattered across his cheeks but you don't think it's his. He grins, "Now he's a fucking misogynistic bastard." He holds out his hand and helps you stand, "Ya ok, luv?"

You nod slowly and look around the club. There are bodies everywhere. Lemon stands in the center, cleaning his gun and he tilts his head at you, "We should skedaddle before the coppers come." He points out.

You nod again and let Tangerine and Lemon walk you out and into their car.

* * *

The Twins house is as you would have imagined. It's basically a mansion and just as polarized as they are. All the rooms Tangerine touches are neat and fancy, while whatever is Lemons has more of a messy, boyish, charm.

You're sitting on the kitchen counter as Tangerine presses alcohol to your neck as he cleans your wound. He's uncharacteristically gentle with you,

"So, what did that wanker want with you anyway?" He asks, not looking into your eyes.

You grimace, "I stole his hit, apparently."

Tangerine raises his brow, "And he wanted to kill you because of it?"

"I also took his credit for killing the Senator's four year old son," You sigh, "When in reality, I couldn't bring myself to harm the little boy." You feel pathetic in front of Tangerine, who is silent for a moment until he says,

"I wouldn't have killed him either."

You look up at him, "Really?"

He looks you in the eyes, "Really. I don't harm kids." He pauses and then moves some hair away from your face so he can clean some more scratches you have on your skin, "Why'd ya take credit for the kill?"

"I didn't want to seem weak in front of my employer. He already trusts men more than women." Your sentence dies and you look away, "This is a male dominated business, you know? Like most careers, us women have to survive somehow." You bury your head in your hands, "I know it's dishonest but the only reason I got that job on the bullet train was because I earned a little reputation from the Senator hit."

Tangerine suddenly laughs and it makes you turn your head towards him again, "What?"

"I understand, luv. Ya don't need to explain yourself."

"You do?"

He kisses your forehead quickly, "Mmhm."

You feel weirdly fuzzy with his lips on your skin and you remember your previous kiss. You aren't sure if you should mention it, or simply pretend it had never happened. Tangerine pulls away from your skin, but his finger slips under your chin and tilts your head to look at him. His eyes jump from yours, then down to your lips, and you hold your breath.

When he kisses you, you know there is no need for talk anymore.

"Should have known you had a soft spot for me." You say anyway, smirking into his lips.

Tangerine frowns, "What's that, sugar?"

"You're secretly a softie, aren't you?" You tease him with a smile.

Unsurprisingly, his frown deepens and he warns, "You're startin' to get on my nerves, sweetheart. Continue like this and next time, I'll leave ya to defend yourself from that arsehole."

You fake hurt, dramatically crossing your hands over your heart, and flutter your eyelashes at him, "You wouldn't, Tan."

"Nah," Lemon interrupts the banter, entering the kitchen with his pink boxers and his mouth full of mint toothpaste, "He couldn't leave ya, Poppy. You're all he ever talks about."

"Shove one up your arse, Lemon." Tangerine hisses, eyes narrowing at his brother.

"You dug your own grave, mate, lay in it." Lemon dismisses him with his hand, "G'night." He smiles at you and spits in the skin. Tangerine watches Lemon walk out of the room. His face is deformed into an annoyed expression,and the moment Lemon shuts the door behind him, Tangerine looks at you.

"Zip it." He demands. He taps your upper thigh as an indication for you to jump off the counter. When you do, his hands linger on your waist, "Come on, you're up way past your bedtime, luv." He smirks at his own joke as he leads you out the kitchen and down the hallway.

Tangerine's room smells like him and is cleaner than your entire apartment. You walk to the queen-sized bed and marvel at how comfortable it is when you sit on it. "Here," Tangerine says nonchalantly and hands you one of his shirts. He turns around, making sure you have your privacy, as he starts to unravel his blue-tie.

You don't protest as you step out of your dress and throw his shirt over your head. You feel out of place when Tangerine turns back around and looks you up and down. He raises one eyebrow, "Well?"

"Well what?" You ask, confused.

"Get into the bloody bed, Poppy." He says harshly.

"What? Where are you sleeping?"

Tangerine runs a hand in his hair, "In the living room."

"Bullshit. You can sleep in your own bed, I’ll sleep on the couch." You pause, eyes scrunching, "Or I- I'll juts go home."

Tangerine smirks, "In my shirt?" He motions to your dress on the ground and you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, "Just shut up and listen to me for once." He says.

"Then you stay too. There is enough room," You reason as you walk to one side and dramatically pull down the covers. You stare at him with wide eyes and pat the mattress, "You aren't afraid to sleep with a woman, are you now?" You tease.

Tangerine's cheeks flame and he grumbles something under his breath but he’s shedding his blazer. You avert your gaze and climb under the covers.

Your back is turned to Tangerine as you hold your breath, eyes bouncing around the room. Then, the light switches off, the bed dips and suddenly you feel warmth next to you.

"Tan?" You whisper into the darkness after a moment.

You hear him shift in the bed and then a small hum to tell you he' listening, "Poppet," He mutters and your lips curl upwards.

"Thank you.”

Silence.

"While I do appreciate the gratitude, why ya thanking me?" He asks, his voice low.

"Thank you for not killing me, and saving my ass, and of course letting me stay here — with you and your brother — " Your chest feels lighter and your eyelids start to feel sleepy. You feel Tangerine shift in the bed again and suddenly his arm is around your waist.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps and you shiver as Tangerine pulls you into him until you're curled up against his chest. You let out a shaky breath when you feel his cheek rest near yours, "Shhh, sleep now, luv. We'll leave the thank yous for tomorrow, hmm?" His voice is uncharacteristically sweet.

You hum in approval and let your eyes flutter shut. You start to drift in and out of sleep but you're almost certain you hear Tangerine mutter, "I'd never let anything bad happen to ya, Poppy. I promise, you're safe with me," just before you fall into the most relaxing sleep you know you'll ever have.