#NONE PLAYER CHARACTER X OWN CHARACTER

[0carkki0]

For an AroAce I surely have a lot of sexually active characters. Well the thing is I’m not sexually attracted to real people. Characters I can be. Also, my characters aren’t really that romantic. They are able to love very strongly and passionately but they don’t show it in materialistic way. They usually show it taking care of their love interest, if they are sick. Protecting them if attacked. Physical affection. Of course not in the middle of a fight or official political meeting... And sexual behavior. 

I’d like to think... No that’s wrong way to put it. Taimi has most likely been assaulted by Vivs’ psychopathic side at some times. But Taimi has learned how to deal with that. First time was probably even a bit traumatizing to her, but once she learned that the psycho side doesn’t like pain she began to hurt him aiming at the areas that would cause most pain. Trying not to damage him too much. Of course the psycho side can stand pain in the same way as normal people can, who aren’t into physical pain, but like with anyone there is a limit how much he can stand it before he wants to go ‘hiding’ behind the good side again. The good side does like pain, but this doesn’t mean he is immune to it. He still get paralyzed by it especially if it is very strong pain. But that’s exactly what he loves about it. It’s kind of like stimulation to his mind, and it is momentary relief of the sexual pain he feels from being aroused all the time. Which unfortunately also works as sexual stimulation. ^^; And if he gets too horny there’s a risk of the psycho side getting out. What to do then? Is just let him do what he wants till he reaches that climax. Usually after that the psycho side is satisfied enough to let the good side take control again, but Vivs in general probably isn’t happy with just one release. Now that the good side is in control again, if Taimi hurts him again he most likely is able to stop. If she lets him still do whatever, it can take some time and many releases till he’s completely satisfied. This is why some people avoid doing it with him. They just can’t keep up with his stamina. Nowadays Taimi is able to at least stay conscious till he’s done, but she thinks she still needs more training... And of course Gorrik as well... - w - 

What I like to think is that Taimi finds Vivs’ psycho side scary, but at the same time kinda exciting. She has started to doubt that the psycho side is able to kill her. He can of course hurt her physically, and even harm her mentally, but he won’t kill her. He wants to own her and control her mind. Make her as his possession. About the good side Taimi has fantasies where she has him under her control. That the Commander was her puppet and she was the puppeteer. And the funny thing is that the Commander would not mind this at all. 

The problem was just the world threats, and that Vivs seemed to be this important peace of a whole puzzle that wasn’t stupid. He often was in situations where he had to be alone and think for himself, so Taimi just couldn’t risk the future of Tyria by taking over this important piece’s mind. Otherwise, the puzzle would never be solved. I think Taimi has realized that her and the others were more like the supporters of this important piece of a puzzle. Important supporters, but supporters nonetheless. Even if she keeps joking about how she was the key element of solving all the problems thanks to her high intelligence. ^^

But just like she once said: facts are facts. No sense in pretending like those didn’t exist, because those pretendings could become fatal. This is partly why she is willing to even suffer a bit in the hands of the psychopath so she could fulfill her role. 

Also another funny thing about Vivs’ split personality is that while the good side would like to make each Inquest member to be treated like they have treated the innocent creatures, the psycho side also would like to do that, but more likely for irony of it. Making them go through that while pretending to be the good Vivs being all like ’this is What you did to those poor innocent beings! Since you seemed to love it so much, I had to force you to experience the same bliss! Feels great, doesn’t it?’ Of course the psycho side would be a perfect fit for the Inquest, if he didn’t want to conquer everything. Which would mean, like the asura Commander said in the Infinity Ball story, ’out-Inquest the Inquest’.

[moiraimyths]

Before we call anon rude because let’s see it from their perspective, imagine getting an entire feast to eat. That can be pretty hard to start with so much that’s going on, but if they start with one thing they know they’ll like (aka one character they like) that can be the start for them leaping to other characters to finish the story and the bigger story. I struggle the same way to start book series if I don’t have at least one character that drives me to read it, it’s all about what can be the hook to push them through. Sounds like the anon is neurodivergent (just a guess) so they might genuinely not see it as rude and see it as a solution to even play the game to start with.

Btw absolutely adore the game, the complex and rich characters making them all so unique is amazing. The art is so pleasing to the eyes I love it!! I’m waiting for it all to get out at once so I don’t get too impatient. Shae however interests me the most, which routes will have the most lore for them? Will there be routes that give more lore in general based on decisions you make or do they all share the same amount? (I mean general lore not just Shae lore)

Apologies; we are not trying to accuse any asker of being rude! We are simply explaining our perspective as the developers / are trying to broadly encourage folks to dip their toes into other areas of the story outside of the main route(s) they're interested in, especially considering some routes will be made available sooner than others, and these other routes will likely contain additional scenes/lore of everyone's fave(s) regardless! We want to give each main cast member an equal amount of love (and lore) regardless of their overall popularity, so our goal is not to tut-tut anyone for having strong preferences for one character over the others, but rather to explain that you may be surprised by how much *more* you learn about your preferred characters in the other routes. That's all!

For Shae... Well, they were a foot soldier for one of the worst periods of the War. Lore wise, any other story that touches on the War will likely have content relevant to them and their experiences. ^^

[mead-iocre]

FIFA | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: you play FIFA

warnings: none. just fluff x

wc: 1.7k words

The late afternoon light filtered through the sheer linen curtains, casting a warm golden glow across the living room. You sat curled up on the couch, legs draped over Leah’s lap, idly scrolling through your phone. The rhythmic clicking of the Xbox controller’s buttons was the only sound filling the room, a counterpoint to the quiet hum of the outside world.

All of a sudden, the clicking of the controller stopped. Leah nudged your leg, palm wrapping around one thigh and squeezing. “Hey, baby” she said, her voice light with a hint of something else. “Wanna do something fun?”

You look away from your phone, arching one perfectly groomed eyebrow. Leah took a moment to admire you, dressed in your favourite Izaak Azanei pink shearling cuff button cardigan with the matching leggings. Leave it to you to be overdressed, even in the comfort of your own home. 

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, letting her phone drop onto the sofa beside her. You were intrigued now.

“I was thinking…FIFA,” The blonde said with a shrug, pushing her hair back as it falls over eyes. Her bangs haven't grown out just yet.

You blink up at her, slightly caught off guard. You had never shown the slightest interest in football or video games. You could barely remember the rules, let alone the offside rule.

But one thing about you, you were just as competitive as your professional footballer girlfriend– if not even more.

“FIFA...?” you ponder over it for a moment. You were never one to back down from a challenge-- even football. “Okay, you’ve got my attention. Let’s play.”

The big smile that took over Leah’s face could’ve blinded a man.

She squeezed the leg that was still draped over her lap, and grabbed the second controller that was conveniently left on the coffee table. She hands it to you, grinning when your hands awkwardly fumble around with the buttons. 

Her competitive girl.

Rosy tinted lips settled into a pout, sweet wrinkles form across the middle of your forehead as you study the device in your hands. “Lee–” A huff leaves your lips. “…how does this even work?”

Leah chuckled softly, leaning in to adjust your grip. Her fingers brushed skin. “Okay, first things first. You use the left stick to move your player,” Leah said, her voice gentle but firm. “Try it. Push it to the left.”

Your brows furrowed, lips curling in confusion as you nudged the left stick to the side. On screen, the character shuffled a few steps, the motion awkward and unsure, much like you when you went to your first couple of football matches. “I’m– uh, not sure if I’m doing it right,” 

Leah’s lips quirked into a soft smile as she leaned a little closer, unable to stop herself from touching you somehow. She lets go of one side of the controller and instead drapes it over your shoulder, fingers rubbing the little bit of exposed skin by her hip. “That’s good. You’re doing great, baby. Here, let me show ya.” Leah gently took your hand, guiding your fingers to the controller so you were holding it more comfortably.

“Like this,” Leah murmured, moving the stick smoothly, making the player glide across the pitch. “See? Just a gentle nudge.”

You watched, captivated not by the moving avatar on the screen who looks eerily similar to Viv, but by the blonde shuffling closer beside you. After a year of dating, you should be used to this, but you weren't. Your heart still squeezed when you look at her.

It's almost ike when your Hermes sales associate pulled out your new Hermes Birkin 30 in Mauve Sylvestre Bag with Epsom Palladium Hardware.

Almost.

“Okay, I think I got it.” You pushed the stick forward a little more confidently this time. Your player jogged across the pitch—clumsy, but moving.

“There you go, baby” Leah praised, her eyes on you, soft with affection. “Now, let’s pass the ball.” She pointed to the ‘A’ button on the controller. “Press this to pass it. Lightly, okay?”

You pressed the button, and the ball rolled a few feet—straight to the opposing team.

Leah laughed in pure, utmost affection. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of her neck and the way her soft tendrils of her hair brushed against her cheek as her eyes met yours again. They were like crescent moons and you love the way her cheeks flush slightly the more she laughs.

One hand slides in between your knees, affectionately squeezing your inner thigh. “Okay, that was... a bit too light. But you’re getting there, baby”

You bite your lip, shy now, tasting your favourite Summer Fridays lipgloss. “I swear I’m trying,” you pout but nevertheless straightening your back to lock back in. “This is harder than it looks.”

The blonde just smiles a secret smile. The scent dewy sweetness of pink peony and fresh lily of the valley mingling with the soft, delicate rosy smell of your hair. You feel her press a kiss against the crown of your head, her lips moving against your hair as her jokes “It’s okay, baby. Sometimes I pass it to the opposing team too”

Too soon.

You recall the last game where Leah accidentally kicked the ball to an opposing player and nearly assisted an equaliser. Luckily, the goal was saved.

You gasp playfully, looking up at her only to be met with her pretty blues. The skin around the corner of her eyes crinkle as she laughs with you. Leah’s ability to not take herself so seriously is one of your favourite things about her. 

Turning back to the screen, you tighten your hands around the controller. “I think I might be terrible at this.”

“You’re not terrible,” Leah insists. “You’re learning. And that’s what matters.”

After a few more attempts, you finally managed to pass the ball with some semblance of control, sending it to your own teammate. “Look, I did it!” you bellow, your voice filled with genuine pride. Stacks of Tiffany and Van Cleef bracelets jingle and jangle as you pump a fist in the air. 

It was like when you scored your rare Dior Metallic Lambskin and Rose des Vents Satin bag– but without having to swipe a card.

You press the right buttons, watching as your avatar on screen kicks the ball up the pitch. “That’s what I’m talking about! What a pass, baby!” Leah turns to you, throwing her arms in the air, before leaning in to give you a sweet kiss. When she pulls away, a shiny sheen of your lipgloss is left on her own lips.

She doesn’t wipe it off. 

You grinned at her, fully locked in now. You rolled up your pink shearling cuff sleeves up your arms, because this was serious now. “Okay, now let’s see if I can actually score a goal.”

“Woah– okay, Messi. Lets see how you get dribbling first”

Reaching into the pocket of your pink joggers, you pull out your Summer Friday lipgloss, swiping it over your lips a few times. Leah just watches you with a small smile, your lip gloss still lingering on her bottom lip. You twist the lipgloss lid closed, pressing your lips together. “I can do this. Watch me.”

The Arsenal defender took that as her queue to sit back and observe as you focused back on the screen. The intensity in your gaze was almost palpable, and for a moment, Leah found herself mesmerised not by the game on the screen, but by you.

You pressed the ‘B’ button with a confident flick of your thumb, and watched as the ball sailed through the air—past the defenders, past the keeper—and into the net.

You gasped as the words– GOAL!– flashes on screen, eyes widening in disbelief. “Did I- did I just score?”

Leah was stunning. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to make sense of what her girlfriend just did. “You... you did,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, awestruck. “You scored, baby. What a bloody good goal.”

Turning to her you gasp wide, sparkling eyes, lips parting in shock. Your curls bounce as you turn back to screen– wanting to make sure it was real– and then back to your girlfriend. “I... I really did? Oh my god--”

You squeal, jumping up from the sofa and clapping your hands. A breathless laugh escapes your lips as you twirl around in pure, unfiltered joy. Your eyes sparkle, cheeks flushed rosy with the thrill of victory, raising your arms raised in mock triumph. “I’m a footballer!” 

“Okay- okay don’t come for my job just yet” Leah reaches over, gently snagging your wrist and pulling you into her arms. You melt into her willingly, the controller slipping from your grasp as you both collapse into a tangle of laughter and affection, bodies close. The victory feels sweeter, somehow, in the warmth of her embrace.

“Told ya you could do it” Leah murmurs, pressing a kiss against your forehead. 

You laughed, burying your face into her chest, the familiar smell of her hoodie washing over you. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not completely terrible at it.”

“I think you’re more than just ‘not terrible.’” Leah snuggles you closer to her, a hand sneakily creeping underneath your top. When did that happen, you have no idea. Unable to help it, you shiver slightly at the feel of her nails dancing across your back.

And of course she notices.

Her voice is low, teasing. “You’re kind of a pro, actually”

"Alexia Putellas better watch out" You say, haughtily. Your taunt is rewarded with her raspy laugh. She nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss on the spot where you neck meets your collarbone. "I'm coming for that Ballon Dior"

“Ballon D’or, baby– not Dior”

You look at her, the love of your life. Her pretty blue eyes, bright as they stare at you. She's got a small smile, head tilted slightly as her eyes roam your face. You blush at the intensity of her gaze, still not familiar to the privilege of getting to look at her every single day.

Leah pulls you to her so you're laying over her chest. You snuggle closer, bringing your knees up, and making yourself comfortable. "You should get one.."

An eyebrow raise. She presses her lips together, holding in a laugh. "Wha-- a Ballon D'or? Bit hard to do as a defender, love"

"No," You roll your eyes, petulantly. You shake your head. The soft swish of your hair moves, a playful flutter through your locks thanks to your freshly blow-out. "a Dior"

Leah laughs. The kind of laugh where she throws her head back, crinkles form by the corner of her eyes, and her entire body contorts, uninhibited, because of you. It’s the curve of her neck, the subtle arch of their brow, the way her breath catches just before another laugh bursts free.

"C'mere" Her hand grasps the side of your neck, squeezing it gently, a few lingering chuckles leave her lips. She pulls you closer, pecking your lips once, then twice.

"I’ll get you your Ballon Dior"

back on my spoiled!reader x leah bs. she's just a girl (wants her Ballon Dior)

thank you to the anon who sent the request <333 i hope you love it even if i changed it a lil bit <333

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[dorabellingham]

La Liga

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you're celebrating the la liga trophy, but he's really drunk and keeps asking you to marry him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a party night at the stadium, and Real Madrid had just won the La Liga championship. The team, the fans, everyone was cheering, but no one seemed happier and more relaxed than Jude. He was completely overcome with euphoria, hugging everyone who passed by —players, journalists, staff, it didn't matter who it was, he just wanted to share his happiness.

With a bottle of whisky in one hand and the La Liga trophy in the other, Jude danced and sang as if the world was watching (and it was). His smile was so wide it seemed permanent, and his laugh was contagious. When the background music changed to a lively funk, he wasted no time in starting to dance, with exaggerated steps and movements with the clumsy and fun touch of someone who was clearly a few glasses too many. In the midst of all this joy, he suddenly spotted you, who were there backstage, waiting for the right moment to congratulate him. Jude's eyes shone even brighter when he saw you, and he practically dropped the trophy, walking towards you with a passionate smile.

—BABE!

He shouted from the other side of the field, running towards you and, in the middle of the path, almost tripping over his own legs.

Arriving at your side, he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong smell of whisky in the air. Without letting go of you, he began to speak, the words coming out in a slurred and exaggerated way.

—Y/n, you are... you are the most incredible woman in the world! —He declared, his hands cupping your face adoringly. —Marry me? Please! I love you, I'm crazy about you!

You laughed, trying to keep your composure in front of your clearly drunk husband and the cameras that recorded every second of that moment.

—Jude, we're already married!

You reminded him, trying unsuccessfully to hide your amused smile.

But that didn't seem to make a difference to him. Jude continued with the scene, his eyes shining and his tone of voice rising even higher.

—No, no, babe! I want to marry you again! I need to hear you say ‘yes’!

He pulled one of your hands and, on his knees, began to make a dramatic marriage proposal right there, in the middle of the field, while the reporters around filmed and laughed.

—Y/n, my love! Marry me again, will you? Please?

He begged, reaching out to you, as if it were the first time.

You tried to contain your laughter, shaking your head in denial.

—Honey, no. Come on, get up. We’re already married!

You looked around, noticing that the reporters were absolutely amused by the situation, and gently patted his hand, trying to get him to stand up.

It was then that, to everyone’s shock and surprise, Bellingham, with the expression of a devastated man, began to cry. Yes, cry! He put one hand to his face, covering his eyes, and grabbed the microphone from a reporter standing next to him, his voice cracking.

—I WAS REJECTED! —He announced dramatically, as if he were on stage. —She doesn’t want to marry me! Everyone saw it… she doesn’t love me anymore! —He looked at the microphone and repeated it, so there would be no doubt. —Are you seeing this? My wife doesn’t want to marry me again!

The reporters tried to hide their laughter, some barely able to keep the cameras focused. You, in turn, had your hands on your face, laughing and in disbelief at the show your drunk husband was putting on. You bent down to him, trying to whisper:

—Jude, honey, everyone’s watching! Get up, go…

He ignored you completely, turning to the camera with a martyr’s expression.

—She doesn’t love me, guys. Here I am, winning La Liga, and my wife… rejects me.

He sighed theatrically as the camera focused on his face.

The crowd in the stands, who were already laughing and applauding the scene, began to scream, encouraging Jude. And he, of course, loved the encouragement, raising his fist in the air, as if he were ready to fight for that love right there.

You, still laughing, pulled him by the arm, finally managing to lift him up.

—Come on, you dramatic! Let's go home.

But he seemed unable to let the moment pass. Hugging you tightly, he lifted you in the air, spinning you around as he continued to speak towards the microphone he was still holding.

—I love this woman! She is everything to me. My wife... and the most beautiful of all!

The crowd applauded, and Jude, finally satisfied with the show he had put on, gave you a loud kiss on the cheek and finally handed the microphone back to the reporter, laughing at his own situation.

As they left the field, with his arms around her and his eyes shining, Jude whispered:

—But you’ll marry me again one day, right?

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

—We’re already married, love. Come on, let’s go home before you even ask the trophy to marry you.

[trulyhblue]

INAPPROPRIATE

leah williamson x arsenal! reader

warnings — tiny angst, annoyed! Leah, Emma Hayes, Chelsea, sorta fluff, coarse language, mention of injury scare.

A/N — in light of Lee’s birthday!!!! short one today, sorry! Thought I would add some spice to this. Emma Hayes needs to realize that pretty much all of woso have dated each other, including her own players lol. there is a mention of Bug, which is a character in one of my stories. Just for context, that is Caitlin Foord’s daughter.

___________________

After hearing Emma Hayes yap on about her opinion on footballers' relationships, you found yourself subjected to a pretty pissed-off Leah Williamson.

Today was the London derby, a long-awaited revenge for Chelsea, it seemed, as the Arsenal bus arrived outside the stadium. Seas of blue and red treaded the stands — you caught sight of a couple of jerseys with your number plastered on the back. Leah was holding your waist as you wandered through the mob of fans reaching for autographs and pictures, a cold facade planted across her face.

Leah was always solemn before games. She was a serious contender, North London bred, with a serious competitive nature that no one could break down.

When you moved to Arsenal from your childhood club, you instantly caught onto Leah’s prominent soberness. Every player knew that if they didn't show up for a game and give it their all, their position would falter. It wasn't like any player with a job as a professional ever thought to underperform, but Leah was an exemption from sincerity. You couldn't joke with her the same way you could during team bonding. You would be stupid to slack off during training or talk to an exaggerated extent when Leah was running beside you. The Lioness Captain copped none of it, and there was no exception for you, her girlfriend.

The woman had woken up with an eminent frown playing on her lips. This was arguably the most important game of the WSL season, and with Leah starting after a long time away, there was a newfound angst set in your shared apartment.

Not only that — the stress Leah had put on herself to perform exceptionally — but the media spotlight Chelsea’s Emma Hayes has put on herself after a certain interview regarding coach-player, and player-player relationships.

From your viewpoint, it didn't really affect you. Everyone had their own opinions based on who dated whom. There was no stopping someone for sharing what they thought, so you simply shook it off as soon as you watched the clip. You did feel bad for the select few of the Blue’s team that were dating players. To not have the personal backing of your coach wouldn't be the most relieving sensation. You knew that the fans were in upheaval regarding her comments, but to be honest, there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

But, it seemed that Leah did not share the same insight as you.

“She can't just go ‘round saying that.” She barked, hiding the Emirates logo as she crossed her arms in disapproval. “It's barmy, that's what it is.”

You were side by side in the change rooms. Leah was already in her kit, the Chelsea socks sticking out like a sore thumb. You were tugging up your shorts, your shirt yet to cover your sports bra. You sighed, having been hearing Leah go on for the best part of the morning.

“You shouldn't let it worry you, Lee.” You muttered, sorting through your bag, ignoring your girlfriend’s huff. “I don't think she meant any harm—”

“Well she did, didn't she?” She retorted.

You pulled your jersey off the hanger, slipping it on. “Leah, c’mon.”

“Why does she feel the need to talk about us, huh? She should be more worried about the amount of injuries on her team, not about what they do in their free time.”

“Leah, that's enough.” You snapped, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The blonde in front of you looked subtly started by your sudden change of demeanour. “Don't worry about it. It's not worth your time.”

You were currently faced with the nerves of the game, on top of other things like international duties, and the Olympics. To have Leah in this mood, in such a critical time like this, was not only overwhelming but downright anxiety-inducing.

Leah didn't answer you. Instead, she tied her laces and crossed the room, exiting into the tunnel for kick-off. This gave you a few minutes to breathe, to centre yourself. You weren't starting, but your nerves were rising by the time you took your seat next to Alessia.

As soon as the game started, it was clear that Chelsea had it covered. Alessia joked that it was the socks, but you could see by the look on Lee’s face that she was fuming from something other than the odd black that covered her shin pads. You warmed up along the sideline, carrying Caitlin’s bug by your side when you saw her growing restless near Frida.

Unlike the rest of your teammates, you bit their nails at the painful game in front of them, you tried to hone your focus on keeping Bug’s hood down, making her giggle instead of wince at the tackles Caitlin was receiving.

You had been benched for the past few games, your hamstring giving you grief over training. But you were anticipating Jonas to call you over. You waited for the flick of his hand, wanting to make things right on the pitch.

The second-half whistle couldn't have come slower. The starting eleven were frustrated, angry, and quiet when entering the changing rooms, an eerie aura lingering inside. You held onto Bug all the way until Caitlin took over, trudging over to Viv, who happily took the girl up to the stands to watch. Jonas had told you and Emily that you’d be put on, so you were preparing yourself for what was to come.

You tried not to interact with Leah. It was an unspoken rule that unless it was personal, it was not to be said directly, especially when you were losing. But the blonde was leaning nearer to you the closer you were meant to be out on the pitch once more. She made the effort to tug at the hem of your shorts, and hold both your shoulders as she stood behind you, listening to the plan for the rest of the game. You pushed your back into her chest, letting her hug you from behind. She squeezed affectionately, and you noticed the subtle unravelling of her tense shoulders. Her features smoothed when she found out you were replacing Victoria in the midfield, and she made sure to hold your hand as you walked back into the stadium.

“You're doing great, Lee.” You managed to say, hoping that your substitution would be before the sixtieth minute. “Just be careful near the wing. It's very congested and you should wait for the midfield to sort it, alright?”

Leah cared deeply about her career and strived for greatness in all that she did. There was nothing that she couldn't achieve without perfection in her eyes. Many people said that you would bring her down to Earth, and remind her that mistakes are human. But there was only so much you could do, and you found that simply telling the girl that she was making the right decisions, treating her softly, was a tactic no game plan could ever beat.

You were about to find your way down the sidelines, getting ready to finish your warm-up before you were subbed on. Both teams had started filing out of their respected halftime seminars, Chelsea looking as confident as ever. Arsenal were sauntering out with much determination, the spite and inherent desire for justice spewing from the gunner’s crowd. Leah and you were near the entrance of the tunnel, standing on the edge of the field in what seemed like your own personal bubble.

Jonas had taken a seat near the rest of the officials, but Chelsea’s Emma Hayes was standing not far from where the two of you stood, skimming her surroundings vaguely without giving too much away. You could feel the irritation radiating off Leah as soon as the woman was in your sight. You both knew the coach was trying to look at you, without it being bitterly obvious, but it seemed to make the tension rise all the more. Your girlfriend found solace in kissing your forehead, running her hands down your sides painstakingly slow. You felt your cheeks go red, the blush filming over your face when Hayes’ eyes darted away.

“Leah.” You warned her wandering hands, squirming in the taller girl’s potent grip around your hips.

You pulled taunt against her, sighing when she loosened. She ignored your scolding look. A smirk was aligned on her lips, threatening to spill the cocky remarks relieving her lips. You watched her run over to the rest of the team, a meek smile matching hers.

God, you couldn't wait to go home.

_________________

A/N — again, sorry it's really short but I wanted to put something out xxxxxx

[lottins-only]

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever. 

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like… maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch3 party rock anthem

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 3/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count. 3.8k

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hello again my loves! welcome to chapter three of touchdown!! i’m in the process of beginning to write my next college au as voted by all of you lovely people! that should be out soon, and i’ll be writing them alongside each other! they will be in the same universe, and i’m hoping to have multiple college aus in the same universe for multiple characters! anyways, on with the chapter!!

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“Sit your ass down.” Those were the first words you heard as you stepped into the door of your apartment, hands clasped together in a futile attempt to keep them warm from the november weather. In short, you were freezing your ass off. You tensed as you heard the voice, shrugging your coat off and tentatively tiptoeing your way into the living room with a sheepish smile on your face.

“Am I in trouble?” There say Yuki, legs spread, hands in her lap, with a terrifying look on her face. It wasn’t very often Yuki was mad at you, but when she was, your blood always ran cold. “Yeah sweetie, you’re in trouble.” She nodded her head towards the seat opposite her, and you quickly took a seat, looking down at your lap to avoid meeting her steel gaze.

“Is this about the laun-” “Shut the fuck up.” You closed your mouth instantly. You knew better than to argue with the blonde woman when she was in this mood. You’d known her since the freshman year of high school, where she picked you from the crowd, swung her arm around your shoulders and claimed you as her best friend for the rest of her days. You were a victim, really.

“You didn’t think to tell me? Did you think you’d get away with it?” You racked your brain for what you could’ve done that would have her this pissed at you. You’d always been an angel in Yuki’s eyes, and she protected you from the outside world the way a mother bear would. You were basically her baby. It was how you’d got through high school unscathed despite your invasive tendencies.

“Get away with…what?” She rolled her eyes, shifting her hips so she was closer to you, bringing one manicured nail up under your chin to force you to meet her eyes. Fucking terrifying. “You and Sukuna? You thought you could date the captain of the football team and not tell me?” You let out a sigh of relief, knowing she wasn’t truly mad at you. She was mad that she’d found out from someone that wasn’t her best friend.

“I should’ve known Choso would tell you. What a snitch.” You rolled your eyes, but Yuki was having none of it. “Spill.” Her eyes were still hard as she looked at you, but you could tell she was excited. You’d not shown an interest in a man beyond dragging him into your bedroom since you broke up with Toji in your senior year of high school. “Shit, okay. It’s new. Like, really new. Not even official yet. Obviously I know him because of Satoru being in the same frat, and I always thought he was hot, everyone thinks he’s hot.” Yuki nodded along with you, her brows furrowing every so often, especially when you mentioned Satoru. They’d always been rivals for your affection, ever since freshman year of high school, when they were both fighting to be crowned the title of your best friend.

“And then he was trying to dm me but i’m private, so he made Toru text me to tell me to accept, and he just kinda asked me to hang out with him after practice, and we’ve been texting and then he asked me to go to the par-”

Yuki screamed. Like actually screamed. The type that would make your neighbours think you’re either having really good sex or being brutally murdered. Neither of which had ever happened for either of you in that apartment.

“He asked you to go with him to the party tonight?” You nodded, and smiled as her eyes sparkled. It’s gonna be so hard to tell her about the fake break up. “He never asks girls to parties. He just picks one that’s already there and has her for the night.” Your stomach twisted awkwardly. You knew what Sukuna was like, you knew he had a body count higher than any number you could think up. But you didn’t like hearing it.

“This is a big deal, sweetie. It means you’re one step closer to actually being his girlfriend. He doesn’t change his routine for just anyone.” Your brows furrowed for a moment. Yuki seemed to know even more about Sukuna than you did. And it was literally your job.

“How the hell do you know all this?” The answer hit you before you could even finish your question. It was such an obvious thing.

Choso.

Choso and Yuki had met two years ago at a bike meet, and exactly the same way she did with you, she claimed him as her own. Choso was reserved, a quiet graphic design major with a heart of gold. You still don’t know how he ended up on the football team, but you suspected it was something to do with Sukuna.

“God. Choso is really invested in his brother’s life.” Yuki rolled her eyes. You were avoiding this line of questioning like the plague. She’d always been able to see right through you.

“You’re going to the party, right?” Of course you were. You needed those interviews so badly, and you wouldn’t get them if you didn’t hold up your end of the deal. Even if it meant going to a party at a frat house. You liked parties, even some frat parties, but you’d only ever gone with Satoru and Yuki. You were gonna be a whole new world now.

“Yeah. Wanna help me get ready?”

Yuki screamed again. Your neighbours were a homophobic elderly couple, and they’d always thought you and Yuki were lesbians. There was some truth to their thinking, Yuki really did like girls. The screaming wasn’t helping your case.

“Sweetie, you have to wear the red one. It’s his favourite colour and you look damn good in it.” You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless pulled out the red dress, while Yuki ran to grab a dress shirt that Choso had left after he got wasted and crashed after team’s award ceremony. You pulled the outfit on and you had to admit, you did look good. You weren’t big-headed but you knew you were somewhat attractive, and the outfit only brought it out.

“So hot.” Yuki giggled as she pulled your hair around, styling it exactly how you like. You’d done your makeup already, and now you were finished. You sprayed some perfume, knowing by the end of the night you’d stink like stale beer and axe body spray. “You ready?” You nodded, following her out the door. She held the car door open for you, as she always did. Yuki showed you exactly how a girl should be treated.

When you and Yuki finally arrived, the party was already in full throttle. People were making out on the couch in the yard, the doorway was clogged full of stumbling frat bros, and you were not happy. Yuki’s hand was clasped tightly around yours, as you used the other to send a dm to Sukuna telling him that you were here.

It took exactly five seconds for the pink haired man to appear in front of the two of you. “Listen. Do not leave her alone. I’ve got a bat in the trunk of my car and i’m not afraid to ruin your career.” His eyes fell to you hiding behind her figure, and you nodded, you knew she would actually do it. He held his hands up in surrender. Yuki didn’t play about you, and if anything happened to you because of him, they wouldn’t find the body.

“You call me if you need me. I’m gonna go find Cho, okay?” You nodded, smiling as she left a soft kiss on your cheek, and gave Sukuna a sharp glare.

“Y’know, Choso said she was a bitch, but I didn’t think he meant it.” You giggled as he took your hand, weaving the two of you through the crowd, hissing venomous words at anyone who got too close to you. “She’s just protective. She’s been like that since high school. She’s the same with Cho.” Sukuna didn’t like the way he slightly tensed at the nickname for his brother, but he chose to ignore it.

“Come on, princess. We’ve got a game of beer pong to win.” You grinned up at him as he pulled you along, and you were almost at the table when you heard a familiar voice over the boom of the dj in the corner.

“You bitch!” Sukuna swung around at this, as you turned slowly, meeting Satoru’s eyes. He stood there, mouth agape as he looked at your hand, which was still fused with Sukuna’s. “So it’s true. This asshole’s got you as his next victim.” He held a hand over his chest as he glared at Sukuna.

“Watch your mouth, Six.” The pink haired man’s teeth were gritted as he looked at Satoru with venom. “Toru, i’m not a victim. I’m also not a five year old you need to babysit.” Satoru reached out, tearing you away from Sukuna and tugging you into his chest, his hand smoothing over your hair. “Y/N, baby. My sweet, sweet girl. He’s an animal.”

You pushed him away, stepping backwards into Sukuna’s body, his hands coming to wrap tightly around your hips. It was so natural, the way he touched you. The feeling it gave you, was unnatural. “I’m a big girl, Toru. I can handle myself.” You gave him a wink, before turning on your heel and pulling Sukuna away like a lost dog.

“Thought we had a game to win?” He grinned down at you, before whistling at one of the other team members. You think his name was Noaya. He was younger than you and Sukuna by a year. “Move. Me and my girl got next.” His girl. It sounded foreign. You hadn’t been someone’s girl in a long time. You gave a small wave to the boys surrounding the table, trying to ignore the stares you were getting from the sorority girls in the room. Sukuna never had someone from the get go at a party. Who the fuck were you?

“Go ahead, baby.” Sukuna placed the ball in your hand and grinned when you instantly got it in the opposing team’s cup. Suguru groaned as he looked down, picking up the cup and downing the contents with a grimace on his lips. “Fuck. She’s good.” Sukuna’s hands were steadily stroking circles on your hips, and it ached how naturally this came to the two of you. You hadn’t been in a relationship since high school, and you weren’t sure Sukuna ever had.

You began to pout when Suguru’s throw landed straight into the cup before you. You gave a small sigh and lifted the solo cup to your lips, throwing your head back to get the contents down in one. You shivered when you finished, eyes falling to Sukuna’s with a small frown. “Ryo…will you get me a drink?”

Your hand had come up to his neck, your perfectly manicured nails stroking at his undercut deliciously. He shivered. He actually shivered. It felt too good. “Yeah, princess. What do you want?” He’d leaned in close now, and you could feel his breath on your ear. It sent a chill down your spine in the best way possible. “Hm. Somethin’ sweet.” You grinned at him, placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth as he began to retreat.

“Nanami. Watch her.” The blonde man in front of you, Nanami, nodded, moving to stand by your side.

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” Nanami looked formal, his hair was perfectly styled, and he sported a blue polo to go with the khakis he wore. So you opted for a handshake, holding your hand out for him. You noticed the slight upturn at the corner of his lips as he took your hand in his own. “You can call me Kento, if you’d like.” You nodded, giving him a small smile of your own.

“You’re on the football team too, right?” He nodded, and you spied the red cup in his hand, with what looked to be water in it. Smart guy. “Yes. Truthfully, I’m only there because it was required that I have a sports extracurricular. I tend to coach more than play.”

You were nodding along with what he was saying, and he watched your expression to know that you were genuinely interested in what he had to say. “What’s your major?” You were interesting. Nanami may have been boring, but he was probably the player on the team that Sukuna trusted the most. He was level-headed and he was honest. He’d been there too many times to save Sukuna’s ass for him not to trust him. This also meant that Nanami was always subject to whatever girl Sukuna was fixed on at parties. But you were different. You seemed to care about people for more than just their status.

“Accounting. I’m going into business with my father once I graduate.” You smiled, your eyes never leaving his as you held a genuine interest in the conversation. “What about you?” He saw the way your eyes lit up as you began to speak, you genuinely loved your major.

“I’m a journalism major. Specifically sports journalism.” He nodded along, and then something clicked in his mind. “Oh, yes. You’re going to be interviewing us all, correct?”

“Yeah! Ryo said he’d try and get you all on board with it. I’ve got a big project to do about how student athletes balance the personal and professional as well as sports. I hope he isn’t forcing any of you to do this.” Nanami noticed the way you seemed to tense. Everybody knew Sukuna could be harsh, but you wanted genuine answers from the men on the team.

“We’re all happy to help. I saw the order you had us in, any particular reason for it?”

“Well I wanted Geto first because he’s a business owner so he probably has to balance the most, and Sukuna’s last because he’s the captain. Everyone else was just in between based on who’s names I wrote down first.” Before Nanami could respond, Sukuna appeared again, a cup in his hand with a small rubber seal over it, a straw poking out of the top.

“We gotta buy more of those cup cover things.” You gave him a smile, tugging him down to kiss his cheek before taking a sip, your eyes lighting up as you got the sweet sensation flooding your tastebuds. “This is so good, baby.” The pet name rolled so deliciously off your tongue. This was all too natural. Sukuna smirked down at you, before leaning in close to your ear.

“Let’s go sit. Need these sorority whores to know i’m off limits for a while.” You scoffed, slapping his chest gently as he began to lead you towards the couch at the back of the room. “Don’t call women whores, Ryo. I’m sure some of them are really nice girls.” That was one of the main things you’d disliked about Sukuna. He was disrespectful as fuck.

“And some of them are whores.” You scoffed again as he pulled you down onto his lap, your arm coming around his neck to stroke his undercut again. “You’re also a whore, asshole.” You gave him a sickly sweet smile when you saw a group of sorority girls approaching.

“Kuna, baby. Who’s this?” Your eyes moved to meet the gaze of a girl named Yorozu. You knew she was captain of the cheerleaders, and she spent a lot of time around the football team. Maybe she would’ve been a good person to interview for your project.

“This is Y/N. My girl.” You were smiling politely at the girls, beginning to feel out of place. Almost as if Sukuna could read your mind, his thumb began stroking gentle circles on your hip, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “You? A girlfriend? Don’t make me laugh, Sukuna.”

“He’s not kidding. It’s a new thing, but he’s my man.” The possessiveness had never come so easily. You’d never been a girl to stake a claim on a man. If another girl could take him, she could have him. But you needed this. You needed to keep up your end of the deal so your project wouldn’t come crashing down around you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetie, but you’re just his newest toy. He’ll get bored of you and toss you to the side the second someone better comes along.” She had a sickly sweet smile on her lips, but you could see the bitterness clouding her features. He’d done her dirty, and this was pissing her off.

“Is that what he did with you? That’s sad. I guess he just needed the right girl to change his ways. Right, Ryo?” Sukuna’s smirk grew wider than you ever thought possible as you leaned down to pepper a few kisses on his neck, getting that sweet spot just under his ear so deliciously. “Damn right, baby.” The brunette girl scoffed, eyes darting between the two of you angrily.

“Ryo? What happened to you only going by your last name?”

“It’s a name reserved for my girl. Sounds so good coming out of her mouth.” You could tell Yorozu wasn’t going to let up any time soon, and you were growing uncomfortable with the attention on you. So you did the unthinkable. You violated your own fucking rules.

You grabbed his jaw gently, turning his head to face you. His eyes were searching yours for any sort of explanation. But you really didn’t have one. Instead, you leant forward, connecting your lips with his in a heated kiss. You hated how it made heat pool in your stomach when his tongue came out to nudge at your bottom lip, a silent plead for permission.

And you fucking allowed it. You opened your mouth slowly, allowing his tongue to enter and dance with yours in the most delicious way. His hands had slowly moved down, finding purchase on your soft ass, kneading the flesh between his large fingers. You were fucking making out with Sukuna in front of everyone.

At least nobody could deny your acting skills.

When you were certain you were safe from the venomous words of the cheer captain, you pulled away, sighing softly as you tried to catch your breath. Sukuna’s eyes were wide. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew he didn’t like it. “What happened to no kissing?” And he was back. Signature smirk spreading across his face as he slowly took his hands away from your ass.

“Seemed necessary. It worked, didn’t it?” You wiped the corner of your mouth shyly where the spit from the kiss had pooled. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna doubt we’re fucking now.” He let out a breathy chuckle, eyes scanning over the crowd, noticing the stares and whispers. Everyone except the football team seemed invested in this.

Of course, Choso struggled to keep his mouth shut, so the whole team already knew about the two of you. And they didn’t actually care. They thought the same thing everybody else did. You were his shiny new toy, and he was gonna ruin you.

“We gotta seal the deal, princess. I’ll drive you home. Then everyone will think i’ve got you under me. Or on top of me.” He was grinning now. One of those annoying, shit-eating grins that only he could make look good. And you hated that he did.

“I don’t get in cars with men who’ve been drinking. You think I wanna die before writing about the NFL?”

“I don’t drink during the season. I’ll get you home safely.” You weren’t comfortable with him knowing where you lived just yet. You didn’t fully trust him. Not until he came through with the interviews. “How about we stay here? You’ve got a room right? I’ll just crash with Toru, and come to your room in the morning so it looks like we did something.”

Sukuna looked apprehensive for a moment, before nodding his head, and gently picking you up from his lap. “Lemme just talk to Kamo. You go find Six, yeah?” You nodded, before the two of you parted ways. You spotted the mop of white hair towering above the crowd, running over and nipping his ass cheek with a giggle.

“Well if it isn’t my slut of a best friend.” You feigned offence, holding a hand to your chest as you looked up at him with a grin on your lips. “I am not a slut!”

“Yeah you are, baby girl. Sucking face with Sukuna so shamelessly? Whore behaviour.” You slapped his chest with a giggle. You knew he didn’t mean it. Bad even if he did, his body count was higher than your rent. He had no room to talk. “Can I crash in your room tonight?” Satoru’s brows furrowed.

“You not staying with your man?” His eyes began to look around for his pink haired teammate amongst the crowd of wasted students. “I don’t wanna sleep with him yet. Gotta give him something to look forward to, huh?”

Satoru wasn’t as good at seeing through you as Yuki was, and you were grateful she wasn’t here right now. She’d call your bullshit and this whole ordeal would be for nothing. “You’re a tease, Y/N. You know you can always crash with me. He know you’re staying?”

As confident as Satoru was in his abilities, Sukuna would demolish him, and he wasn’t too proud to admit that. He didn’t wanna come between the two of you if it meant gaining a broken bone. “Yeah, he’s gonna stay in his room tonight.” Satoru looked surprised at that, but you didn’t push. You didn’t need to know any more about Sukuna than what was needed for your project.

And as if he’d been summoned, the pink haired brute appeared behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a sloppy kiss on your temple. “You wanna go upstairs, baby?” You nodded, waving shyly to Satoru who looked as though he was about to burst, and followed him as he guided you through the crowd and up the stairs.

“I’ve got a shirt you can use for the night. Make it look like you stayed with me. Just come by in the morning, and then sneak out. Should work.” You nodded slowly, taking the pink shirt from his hands. You turned on your heel, about to leave, before he stopped you with his hand around your wrist.

“Thanks, princess.” It was said with grit teeth, like it pained him to say it. But it was a thanks nonetheless. You nodded, giving him a small smile, before leaving his room. You trudged across the hall, before dipping into Satoru’s room, pressing your back against the door once it was closed.

What the fuck.

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @acrazybiotch374 @sukuxna0 @gaychaosgremlin @toratsue @gojoscumslut @mocha-the-muse @livinggxd3adgirl @hahajsphaha

[wearebarca]

10. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 10

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8* - Part 9*

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 5,4k

Warnings: none for this one, lot of fluff

Her conversation with Katie served as a bitter distraction during her flight back to Barcelona. She had not let herself think about the words that were spat at her face too much, wanting to enjoy the small amount of time she had left with her friends. When she arrived at the apartment, well after the two Arsenal players, she was met with two sets of eyes on her, both harbouring silent questions. One smile was enough for them to understand that there would be no talking about this and they simply motioned her to join them on the sofa. They spent the rest of the night watching cheesy romance movies and judging the characters on their poor choices and horrible taste in man.

Right now though, sitting 30 000 feet above the ground, with nothing but the soft chatter of the other passengers, Rosalie could not help but drift back to what was said. Alexia wasn’t like that. In the months she had spent with this team, she had never felt like she was being used, and she knew that the Irish defender was simply trying to get under her skin, but Rosalie had not completely healed. She was still fragile, and had just started to feel like she had found somewhere she belonged. Katie’s words, even if she would not admit it, had successfully planted a seed of doubt in her mind.

Stepping out of the airport in the warm Barcelona sun was such a relief for the photographer, who felt the tension leave her shoulders. She took a long, steady breath, the first satisfying one since boarding the plain, and closed her eyes to try and center herself a little. She had asked Lucy to come pick her up, and was slightly dreading the road back to her apartment since she was certain Leah had already told Keira about the events from the night before, and Keira would have, without a doubt, told Lucy. What Rosalie did not expect was to see a certain tattooed defender with a sophisticated Norwegian by her side.

“Hola guapa! How was your trip?” Mapi said, hugging the brunette and immediately taking her bags from her hands. Ingrid was next in line for a hug and handed her a cup of coffee, earning a grateful smile from the smaller woman.

“It was busy, very nice though. It felt good to see my old gang.” She said, refusing to get onto more details. From the side look Ingrid sent her, Rosalie knew that Ingrid was aware of some details and she was praying she wouldn’t ask. Mapi was already walking ahead, crumbling under all the bags she insisted she would carry alone and was beckoning them to follow to the car park.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you guys, but I thought Lucy was coming to get me.”

“ She was, but someone,” She said, sending a loving stare at her overly excited girlfriend, “really wanted to pick you up.” The revelation warmed the brunette’s heart who momentarily forgot the harsh words uttered towards her.

“Are you too tired to go get some food with us?” As much as the brunette was dreaming of her own bed at the moment, she also did not want to be alone.

“No no I’ll be fine, as long as it's a quiet place.”

“We were thinking about getting it to go and eat at our place, you could meet Bagheera too!” Mapi said, putting the brunette’s bag in the trunk of her car. Rosalie smiled and quickly agreed. They stopped at a small restaurant and ordered paella that they would share. Their apartment was vast and very tastefully decorated. Rosalie could see the Scandinavian twist in the decor and smiled at some colourful addition that could only be from the Spanish woman.

But the most interesting element of the space was the little ball of black fur sleeping soundly on the beige sofa. Rosalie made a beeline for the little creature, completely forgetting about the house tour she was currently in. She sat next to the cat who’s head instantly went up. She sniffed the photographer’s hand and got up, only to brush its head against her hand and start to purr loudly.

“ Bonjour mon chaton, tu es si belle, oh oui mais quelle beauté, et si gentille j’y crois pas.” She said softly while petting the small cat completely, unaware of Mapi’s presence next to her.

“I understand Alexia, hearing that just made me feel things amiga.” she said laughing while setting up the coffee table up for supper.

“What?”

“She is my best friend, I know her. Also she has been in a foul mood ever since she came back from camp and I’m pretty sure that it’ll change as soon as she sees you tomorrow.” Rosalie sent a look to Ingrid who made a face and silently agreed to her girlfriend’s statement. “And… We all saw you two back at the club.” She said winking at her.

Rosalie gave up playing dumb and simply rolled her eyes at the Spanish woman. “All of you?”

“Well, Sandra and Irene are aware since it was their plan to make Alexia mad. Patri and Pina suspect, Lucy and Keira obviously, and the rest can see that something is going on with their captain but can’t seem to pinpoint what.” Ingrid said, handing the French-Canadian a plate.

“They are blind yes.” Mapi said

“Mostly intimidated probably. Alexia is extremely protective of her private life.” Ingrid said, pouring them all a glass of white wine

“You don’t say.” Rosalie said, taking a sip, “I understand though, it seems like Martina has no boundaries. Anyway, how was the national break for you guys?”

The conversation flowed nicely all night, with Ingrid and Rosalie sharing about their respective camps and Mapi keeping them up to date on what had happened with Barça while they were gone. The brunette didn’t check the time once, which meant that she stayed very late and ended up accepting the couple’s offer to take the guest room.

National camp was always a hassle, and her weekend at Leah’s wasn’t exactly a vacation either. Add to that a night spent in an unfamiliar bed and the unrelenting flow of energy that was the Spanish defender, even early in the morning, Rosalie looked and felt like a zombie. She walked in the training center with her sunglasses still perched on her nose and a vice grip on the large coffee cup in her hand.

Dealing with Martina was the last thing she needed in her state, so she decided that it would be best if she sent one of the other photographers on the pitch, just so she could catch up on what she had missed during her time away.

It would be a small week for the photographer, with only three days before the weekend. There would be a game on Saturday but she was excited about it. Game days had become her favourite part of the job.

The thing that stressed her the most was her race quickly approaching. The Barcelona marathon was less than a week away and the French-Canadian wondered how she would deal with her level of exhaustion, work and her last lap of training.

Time seemed to pass without Rosalie noticing. She was so caught up in her emails she completely ignored her hunger. She kept working like that all through lunch and almost jumped when she was pulled out of her trance by her door opening and Lucy barging in her office.

“Didn’t your mum teach you to knock before entering?”

“Oh she’s sassy today.” Lucy said, taking a seat in the chair facing the brunette and unpacking hers and the photographer’s lunch. One look at the sandwich and her emails were forgotten. Without even glancing at the older woman, she grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite.

“You’re welcome, ungrateful twat.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes and finished swallowing. “Merci maman.”

“Are you gonna survive your day?” She asked, grabbing her own sandwich.

“Who knows, I feel like I got buried alive under all those emails.” She said, taking a sip off her cold coffee. “ I’m so tired I can’t even focus.”

“Can’t you work from home?” The brunette took a second to contemplate the idea, and came to the conclusion that nothing productive could come from her staying here.

“I could. I probably should.” She said, A big sigh left her lips as she lowered her head to her desk

“Are you the lead photographer on Saturday’s game or are you resting for your race?”

“I’ll be working, the game is early so I’ll be fine. Leah, Lia, Steph, Beth and Viv are coming to see the game too aren’t they.” She asked, sitting up and rubbing her palms on her eyes in a vain attempt to wake herself up.

“Yes, they’ll arrive the night before. The LW’s will stay at our place while the rest have hotel rooms in town. ” Just like they had promised, her friends were coming to cheer for her during her marathon. They would be staying at Lucy and Keira’s place and hotels so the French-Canadian would not have to worry about hosting and focus solely on her race. She was touched that her friends had thought about this, but the thing that would likely keep her up, was the thought of her old life and new life colliding. She knew that in the football world, everyone knew everyone. They all had heard of each other, or played against each other, sometimes even played together. But having them all interact outside of football, seeing the girls that were with her through some of the toughest times meet the people that had brought back her happiness, that was a different story. What if they didn’t get along. Afterall, England and Spain were famous rivals on the national scene and she was very close to both of the respective captains.

Rosalie could feel the start of a nasty headache creeping in as she closed her laptop. “Allez Frenchy, gather up your stuff and go home.”

The English player was already up and picking up the empty wrappers from their lunch. “Have you spoken to Alexia since you came back?”

The mention of the captain made her heart leap a little in her chest. She had wanted to, really, but the words from Katie still resonated in her mind and the thought of them being even remotely close to the truth had kept her from reaching out. She stayed silent, knowing that Lucy was aware that she had not.

“We didn’t tell her anything if that’s what you’re scared of. We only said that you were tired from the trip. She’s clearly worried tho.”

“I’ll speak to her tonight.” She said with a smile, walking out of her office. From the windows, she could see the whole team in action. As if she had felt her presence, Alexia’s head snapped up just in time to see the photographer pass.

She could see from her posture alone just how tired she was. She knew the woman had not spent a proper night at her place since she came back, so inviting her to hers seemed like a lot. She didn’t want the brunette to feel like she was suffocating her, so she decided that she’d let her do the first move. If she wanted to see her it would be on her terms, without feeling obligated to.

She was at peace with her decision for a total of twenty minutes. The look on Lucy’s face when she came back on the pitch, along with Keira's quiet but audible “is she ok?” were enough for the blonde to lose her cool. She herself had a hard time understanding why she felt protective over the brunette but truly it didn’t matter.

Concentrating for the rest of training turned out to be a difficult task, but Alexia sped through the rest of the exercises and was one of the first off the pitch. This behavior was very uncommon for the Barcelona captain which left a few of the girls confused. Only two had an idea why the midfielder was so eager to end this session.

“You should bring her pasta. It’s what Sara has recommended her to eat a week before her race and she’s a sucker for good pasta.” Lucy said when Alexia walked past her. The midfielder stopped in her tracks.

“Rosalia has not had a moment alone since she came back, you don’t think I should let her be?” She was surprised that the woman who acted like a big sister towards the photograph would encourage her to pursue the French-Canadian.

“I can’t tell you why, but being alone is not what she needs right now.” Lucy said with a hint of sadness and worry in her eyes. “Oh, and bring Nala, she’ll be so happy.” That was all the Catalonian needed to hear. Her plan was simple. She would go to her apartment to leave her training bag and pick up Nala. She would then go to the market and get all the ingredients she needed and walk back to Rosalie’s place.

It was around dinner time when Alexia arrived in front of the photographer’s building. She was glad she didn’t have to wait long until someone exited so she could let herself in without having to ring a random doorbell. The thing the blonde had clearly not thought of, was her little dog remembering the space, and most likely, smelling the photographer through the door.

As soon as Alexia reached the apartment door, Nala started to bark and jump, scratching the door with her little paws. Alexia cringed at the ruckus her dog was making and tried to calm her but nothing was working. She was about to drop all her bags and pick up the little beast when the sound of the door opening made her look up.

Rosalie was groggy. She was sleeping on her couch after succumbing to her fatigue while working when barking had pulled her from her slumber. She knew that there were no dog owners in her building and the sound was from right outside her door. She surely wasn’t prepared to see Alexia crouched down in front of her door, fighting with the small dog who was hell bent on freeing herself and running towards the photographer.

“Ale? What are you doing here?” The footballer stood up with the little excited dog still wiggling in her arms. Rosalie smiled widely and motionned to the player to pass Nala to her, which she gladly did. While Rosalie was busy greeting the fluff ball, Alexia picked up the grocery bags and made her way to the brunette's kitchen. She was happy to see that the woman had not started dinner yet and immediately started to prepare the food.

“ Ale, are you gonna tell me why you are here?” She asked, sitting down at the breakfast bar, Nala still in her arms.

“I am making you dinner! I can go after, if you want me to, but I know you are tired and I wanted to do this for you.” Rosalie could feel tears threatening to fall as she watched the blonde work silently. It took a moment for Alexia to realize the smaller woman had not moved from her spot in front of her.

“You can do your things like normal Rosalie, just act like I am not here.” She said, finally turning towards her. Upon seeing her eyes, Alexia walked around the kitchen island and crouched down in front of the photographer. “What’s wrong?”

“ Nothing, this is perfect.” The brunette said, whipping away her tears with the hand that wasn’t holding Nala. Alexia understood why the English couple was worried. She took her hand and guided her to the sofa where she could see a pillow and a pile of blankets.

“ You can rest more, I will wake you when the food is ready.” Rosalie got comfortable once more, with the little pomeranian snuggling in her arms. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep once more.

It took Alexia a little more than half an hour to cook enough food so that the brunette would also have lunches ready. The sight she was met with when she moved to the living room warmed her heart. The brunette was bundled up in thick blankets in a fetal position and all that could be seen from the small dog were her little ears sticking out of the blanket. Alexia quickly snapped pictures of the two before carefully waking her up.

They ate together in comfortable silence, simply contempt in each other’s presence. Alexia insisted on doing the dishes herself, not wanting for the photographer to have anything to do once she would be gone. Rosalie took place at the counter with her laptop. She needed to finish a couple things before bed but she found that watching the captain so at ease in her kitchen was very distracting. This was as domestic as it could be, and it felt so natural, easy.

Once she was done, Alexia took a seat next to the photographer, closed her laptop and scooted closer. She turned around to face the blonde and as soon as their eyes met, she felt the remaining tension slowly escape her. Alexia’s hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair that had escaped from Rosalie’s bun, and finished her path on her cheek. She leaned into her hand and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of her palm.

“Thank you so much.” Rosalie whispered, not wanting to break the stillness of this moment.

“I am happy to do this for you.” She whispered back, slowly inching closer. “Rosalia..”

The word was but a breath on the footballer’s lips. She was so close Rosalie felt the air tickling her cheek. Their forehead connected, closing the distance even more.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” She sounded almost uncertain, as if she was scared the brunette would reject her. The thought alone almost pulled a chuckle from Rosalie.

“Oui, please.” She said, almost desperately, “You never have to ask again.”Her lips felt like coming home. How is it that after so little time, this woman had managed to break down all her defense and slithered her way into the depths of her mind.

The kiss was soft, unhurried. Their lips danced together, only parting to let out shuddering breaths. Rosalie reached out, pulling the blonde closer. It was like every part of her being was calling out for her. The heat was rising quickly, the need to be closer, feel her warmth invade all-consuming.

Rosalie was almost ashamed at the whine that escaped her when the footballer pulled away, leaving the forehead connected, as if she too, couldn’t fathom being separated just yet. “Rosalia, this is not what you need tonight.” She whispered, her hand caressing her cheek.

As good as her lips felt, Rosalie knew that the blonde was right. And yet, she could not let the blonde go. “ Can you stay please?” She asked in a broken voice that made Alexia’s heart shatter.

“Of course preciosa.” Alexia borrowed the same clothes she did the night before camp and stayed in the living room while the photographer went to shower. There was a shelf in the bookcase with what seemed like a collection of photo albums. They all had years written on the spine. Alexia picked one from what she assumed would be the brunette’s college years and sat on the sofa.

She was still flipping through the pages when the brunette emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet and only wearing underwear and an oversized t-shirt. It took a lot of self control for the blonde to keep her eyes from trailing down her toned legs. She put aside the album and took the hand Rosalie was holding out for her.

They settled together in bed, Alexia’s arms wrapped around her protectively. In this position, sleep came to her very easily. It was arguably the best sleep she had had since leaving for camp and the brunette most definitely needed it.

The wake up in itself, was everything but peaceful. She could not breathe. It was like her face was blocked by something warm and fury, with hair getting in her nose and mouth. She panicked and rose from the bed, grabbing the ball of fluff that had conveniently chosen her face as a resting spot. She coughed up a few hairs, still holding the dog at arm's length.

She was still groggy from sleep, but it did not keep her from registering the sound of Alexia’s laughter echoing next to her. “Your little beast almost killed me and you’re laughing?” She said indignantly, bringing Nala to her chest and kissing her head. She simply could not be mad at the little dog, but could definitely direct her anger towards the owner.

“You were so peaceful, you slept through the alarm, so I thought you needed something a little stronger to wake you up.” The smile on Alexia’s face was simply radiant. Her hair was wild from her night of sleep and her eyes were shining brightly in the morning light. Rosalie could not do anything but smile at the blonde and put the little dog down, only to jump on the blonde to playfully attack her.

This playful mood persisted all throughout the day. From the car ride to Alexia’s place so she could drop off Nala and pick up her training stuff, to their interaction on the pitch during training. Rosalie managed to capture the biggest amount of shots of Alexia smiling at the camera, although everyone knew it wasn’t at the camera she was smiling at, but rather the small woman behind it.

The build up to Saturday’s game was a lot smoother than usual. With the Barça captain’s mood having brightened a lot and the excitement of a home game palpable, all smiles could be seen in the viewing room. As soon as the meeting started, there was nothing but determination written on the girls faces.

There was only one who seemed out of it. She was always like this before a race. In her head, quiet, but inside, her mind was roaring. Her fears, her strategies, her goal pace, her desired splits, she was mapping everything out, leaving nothing to chance.

To everyone’s eyes, Rosalie looked empty, which concerned some of the girls who, instead of disturbing the photographer, seeked out answers in Lucy and Keira. The girls knew that Rosalie was simply in her game mode and would likely stay that way til after the race.

The only person who seemed to pull a smile from the brunette was none other than the captain herself. However fleeting it might have been, she was proud to have been the one to make her smile.

Sunday was game day, and Rosalie vowed to herself , for the sake of her friends, to be there for them. Tonight, she would have time to worry for herself. So she pulled up at the stadium coffee in hand and ready for a home game.

She was the one capturing the player's arrival. She loved this part almost just as much as the game itself. The girls were all smiles yet again, confident in their abilities and preparation. Upon seeing the photographer smiling they all greeted her similarly, often hugging her or high fiving her.

As always, when Alexia came around the corner, Rosalie’s breath caught in her throat. She was wearing a dark green tennis skirt, a white shirt and that leather jacket that made the photographer drool. She was mesmerizing and Rosalie could hardly hide her staring even behind her camera.

The blond stopped in front of her and opened her arms. Her familiar smell automatically calmed her.

« Ça va bien aller, Rosie, tu es prête. » She whispered in her ear before pulling away. Rosalie was too stunned to speak. Although heavily accented, Alexia’s sentence was flawless and the photographer could not help but smile widely at the thought of the footballer learning this for her.

Out on the field, the sun was shining bright and the stands were almost full. She immediately spotted her little group of friends frantically waving her way. She waved back and prepped her equipment.

It was a wonderful game. Five nil with a beautiful header from Alexia and a goal from Mapi. The pictures she had taken of their celebration together were some of her favourites she had taken so far at Barcelona. It showed perfectly how strong their friendship was. She’d had to print it out and give it to them later.

As she suspected, her friends had walked down and were stepping on the pitch as she was taking off her media bib. Leah was the first to reach the photographer, sneaking behind her and grabbing her in a tight hug from behind.

“ Howdy Frenchy, ready for your big day?” She asked, resting her chin on the brunette’s shoulder. Rosalie grabbed her hands around her waist and laughed as the blond lifted her and essentially carried her towards the group of Arsenal players. She did not let go, even after putting her down.

Alexia was very aware of that fact. She was on the other side of the pitch signing jerseys and greeting fans, but she could not help but keep a close eye on the brunette. She had seen Leah approach her, seen the way her arms had wrapped around her, and this was simply not sitting right with her.

She was aware, in the back of her mind, that Rosalie had confirmed that Leah was with the Swiss captain, and of the remaining fans' eyes following her every move, but for a second, these details evaded her mind.

She crossed the distance separating her and the photographer in a few seconds and arrived behind the two. The only problem was that she did not, for the life of her, think about what she would say once she had reached the little group.

The girls got quiet upon seeing the Spanish captain. Rosalie and Leah both made a curious face before turning around. Rosalie smiled widely at the Catalonian and opened her arms.

“That was such a beautiful goal Ale!” She said while the girl was holding her.

“Thank you bonita.” They were then met with a stunned group of five women who had certainly not put Alexia Putellas hugging their best friend in front of them, and a stadium full of fans, on their bingo card.

“Hola,” The Spanish woman said upon seeing their dumbfounded looks. She stepped closer to them, her hand never leaving the brunette’s waist. “Did you enjoy the game?”

They all knew each other, having played against each other for club and country, so introductions were not a need. It was very weird for Rosalie, seeing everyone interact like that. She noticed Alexia was colder towards Leah, and the reaction was clearly amusing the English captain. They all exchanged a few words, asking about their season so far, with Viv and Alexia clearly hitting it off thanks to them being the biggest football nerds the brunette had ever met. During their conversation, Alexia’s hand never left Rosalie’s hips. It was a calming, grounding touch which the photographer welcomed greatly.

The stadium was slowly emptying. The fans were bustling with happiness after such a wonderful victory. Even the staff was nearly done picking up the remaining equipment and eager to go home to finally relax. The only people on the pitch were Rosalie and her small band of footballers. They all spoke and laughed together, unaware that someone was watching them.

From the mezzanine, Martina had a perfect view of the Arsenal players along with the Barcelona captain and photographer. An idea started to bloom in her mind.

“Ok I think it might be time to go, Rosalia.” Alexia whispered in her ear. She was right, dinner was quickly approaching and she needed to be in bed early. The start of the race was at eight in the morning and god knows Rosalie would not sleep much tonight.

She in fact, did not. She was up at five, already dressed in her lucky red sports bra, a black zip-up hoodie and running short, and pacing around. Her oatmeal was getting cold on her breakfast counter. Lucy was picking her up. It was their little tradition. Ever since she had moved to England, every racing event she had been a part of, Lucy had always been the one driving her, something about needing family to be there for her.

Lucy arrived at her apartment at six, because she knew that Rosalie would not have eaten anything. It was always the same. She would arrive an hour before the agreed time, eat breakfast with the Canadian, more like force feeding her, and leave, all of this mostly done in silence. Rosalie always felt bad for her pre-race attitude but Lucy understood. She had worked with countless superstitious players with weird and annoying rituals, silence was the most peaceful she had encountered for sure.

It was usually when they arrived on site that Rosalie’s tongue got loose. “Will they be there at the start?”

“Yes, and someone will be there at every water stop, everything is already planned.” Lucy said, squeezing the photographer’s hand. They got out of the car and Rosalie headed straight for the English women and engulfed her in a hug. “Thank you for being here, ma grande soeur.”

“Je t’aime, tu le sais ça”

“Je t’aime aussi, Luce”

The tent was full of runners. Some clearly experienced and others who seemed like it was their first ever race. Rosalie respected all of them, she knew how hard your first was and she valued all the training that went into this sport. She also loved the community built around it, whatever your level of experience, they were all here together with a common goal in mind, reach the finish line. She found an empty bench at the back of the tent and pulled out her trusty Asics Metaspeed. Before lacing them up, she took out her noise cancelling earbuds and pooped them in. She hardly ever ran with music, but she purchased them solely for their nose cancelling abilities.

Ten minutes before the star and Rosalie was outside the tent stretching. She could see the growing crowd assembling around the inflatable arch where the signal would be given. Her friends were likely already there, with Beth, Leah and Keira complaining about how early it was and Viv, Lia and Lucy attempting to tame their grumpiness.A part of her mind hoped she would see Alexia somewhere, maybe with some of the Barça girls, but she wasn’t getting her hopes up, after all, she had not even thought about properly inviting them.

Five minutes before the start. She was walking slowly towards the starting line, making her path among the other runners. She had a goal in mind, and so she needed to start this race at the front. She smiled at the other racers, the apprehension palpable in the air, as she advanced more and more towards the front line.

Two minutes before the signal. Rosalie was happy with the spot she had managed to slither into. Almost in the middle, completely at the front. all she could hear was the sound of her breathing. Her heart was pounding in her chest as her eyes scanned the crowd for the first time.

Hundreds of people were screaming and cheering for their loved ones, and at the front, right behind the gate was her family. She smiled at them and waved. It took a second for her to realize that they were in fact, not alone. More than half of the Barcelona femini team was at their side, cheering with homemade signs.

Thirty seconds before the start, Rosalie's green eyes met with hazel ones. She was smiling, a calm expression on her face. She was here. A new kind of determination lit up inside her.

The signal was finally heard and all that was left to do was put one foot in front of the other.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Top Gun: Maverick Fic Recs

Hey y'all! Here are 21 of my favorite TGM fanfics of all genres and ships, listed in no particular order.

Some of these fics are 18+ so read at your own risk. None of these works are mine and all credit goes to the amazing authors! <3

X READER

Safe Zone by @sunlightmurdock — (Series // Rooster and Hangman x reader)

A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Hold My Hand by @labyrinth-runner — (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

Jag! Reader is assigned to defend a pilot, finding the job to be more complicated than she thought.

Rooster’s Flight or a Manual for the Marooned by DontLetThemTakeYouAlive (Series // Rooster x Reader/OC)

"Rooster's Flight: A Manual for the Marooned" follows Madeline, a pastry chef escaping scandal in Amsterdam, and Bradley, a lost naval aviator stationed in Japan. Fate brings them to sunny San Diego, where their friendship blossoms amid career challenges and a clashing of characters. Madeline's culinary journey intertwines with Bradley's self-discovery, navigating love and loss.

Resilience, self-discovery, and the unpredictable paths of career and matters of the heart shape their narrative in this tale of second chances and unlikely connections.

Fine Piece by @dragon-kazansky (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

You have it bad for Vice Admiral Simpson. But to prove you’re fit for the job; you need to put that aside and focus on the flying.

Someone Special by @fanboygarcia (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

What happens when the Dagger Squad catches on to the fact that known grump turned lovesick fool Admiral Simpson has someone special in his life?

Invisible String by @halfway-happyyy (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

the one where rooster’s about to leave on a mission he doesn’t know if he’ll be back from, and he wants you in every way imaginable. as always, soft feelings ensue! 

Do you wanna make somethin’ of it by @theharddeck (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

@bullet-prooflove's entire TGM masterlist

Everything she writes is outstanding, but the Beau x Ally fics (The First Time Series, The General Series, Deployment!Series, and Syria!Series) are something I think about literally everyday.

i don’t know, blame the air force? by @gretagerwigsmuse (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

There Are Rules by @tongue-like-a-razor (Series // Maverick x Reader)

Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.

Through the Hourglass by @bratshaws (Series // Rooster x OC)

Rooster x Plus Size OC!

Happy Birthday, Mr. President by @rhettabbotts (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

after a hard week, the last thing bob wanted to do was attend his birthday party. so instead, he plays out one of his biggest fantasies with you.

Whoever's in Lemoore by @cherrycola27 (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

A fic based on the Reba McEntire song "Whoever's in New England"

Angels Don't Always Have Wings by @bradshawssugarbaby (Series // Rooster x Reader)

a series of oneshots revolving around baseball player!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

Do I? by @bradshawssugarbaby (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

Inspired by Do I? by Luke Bryan. (this fic was so good I had to go take a walk after reading it for the first time)

Road to Perdition by @sailor-aviator (Series // Hangman x Reader)

The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

His Best Friend's Wedding by @ereardon (Series // Rooster x Reader)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has been your best friend for a decade. He’s also your fiancé’s best man. So when he shows up at your hotel room the night before your wedding, it’s just because he’s your friend, right? 

OTHER SHIPS

Mistaken Identity by @ladylanera — (TGM x Mission: Impossible crossover)

What should be a joyous homecoming quickly unravels after it's discovered a nefarious, unknown group has put a hit out on Captain Mitchell, mistaking the Navy captain for being a covert IMF operative by the name of Ethan Hunt who has an uncanny likeness to the captain for some reason. Enter a twisty web of lies that threaten the very existence of the family as we know it.

**Fic contains spoilers for Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning Part One**

Flower Power by ReformedTsundere — (Icemav)

Flowers, Pete reminds himself, slamming the last of the books closed, are the worst.

New Chat Created: North Island Daggers by Comin2U — (gen fic)

Harvard: why Whatsapp and not just a basic text message? Hangman: because one of us has an android and ruins the ability to message with just internet. Coyote: Screw you too hangman. ________________________________ In which 12 daggers, the best of the best of naval aviators, are all a bunch of kids and thrown in a group chat.

come fly with me (let's fly, let's fly away) by GatheringBlue — (TGM x 9-1-1 Crossover)

It's a common misconception that Buck trained to be a Navy SEAL. For as long as he could remember, flying had been his dream. Most little kids wanted to be a firefighter or an astronaut, but Buck had always wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to fly far, far away from home, where his parents’ comments that might as well have been slaps for how badly they stung couldn’t get to him. Flying was his way out. His escape. If he was thousands of feet up in the sky, way up with the clouds, then his parents couldn’t touch him. No one could. When Buck got pulled from the reserves just after the lawsuit, it seemed like perfect timing. There was nothing left for him in LA. Not anymore. So, it looked like Buck was heading back to Top Gun.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Cupid doesn’t gamble

Summary: Leon, a mafia boss whose empire dominates all casinos on the west coast, meets a young girl amidst a game of poker. What would happen if he threw all his chips and gambled his love for you?

Warning: Mafia!Boss!Leon x Female!Reader. Eventual smut (I know y’all want this so bad). Slow burn. Romantic. Leon is a gentleman. Characters are 21+ (makes sense for casinos). Researched topics. Mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 6,620

A/N: So, I’d like to start off with saying that being in the Mafia is not okay. Al Capone was NOT a good guy. But, this is fiction. None of this is real so before I get myself canceled (pls don’t) trust that I did my research. I thought of Salvatore by LDR writing this lol.

[II] [III]

“The summer's wild and I've been waiting for you all this time I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me. Summer's hot but I've been cold without you, I was so wrong not to doubt your Medellin, tangerine dreams,” - Salvatore, Lana Del Rey

Poker isn’t just a game of gambling and betting your money away. It’s intimate and personal, in order to win you must read your opponent. Strip each other bare until the other shows a sign of vulnerability, only then will you find a loophole and win.

But nobody seems to understand the arts of chips and card decks. To be given an awful hand and turning the game to your favor is powerful and uplifting. There is great danger with gambling but there are also great rewards.

Leon was a famous man, known for establishing the most successful casinos of, dare I say, the nation. He’s a businessman, driven by the need to make a statement of himself. To hold power over people’s head with a flick of the wrist. He’s ambitious, cunning, but also respectful.

Coming from nothing but rags and the slum, he swore to his parents that he will earn everything he ever wanted in life. To provide for his family, to become one of the richest and notorious men of America. And he did.

He easily became a member of the mafia after being taken under the care of a kind man. When his parents died and he was shunned away by society, he never expected a man from a dangerous world to take him as a child and teach him to become the man that he is today.

And now here he was, engaging himself in a long hour of poker with a rookie player. You’ve never been keen on gambling your savings away, you deterred yourself from gaining the addiction. But, you did like to play every once in a while, especially since the casino you were in was quite lavish, courtesy of the man who built the casino in the first place.

You didn’t know anything about it, you didn’t even know that the man in front of you was the very own man who built his life step by step.

"You're good with your hands," he said in a rich and low tone as he stared at you from across the table.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you moved on forward with the game. You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to guess what he was going to move with tonight.

A low, amused chuckle escaped his lips as he continued to watch you analyze him. He knew damn well you had no clue how to play, yet you were trying your best. It's what drew him to you.

He noticed you stealing glances his way as you thought of a plan. *Adorable.* He leaned back into his seat, eyeing you closely as he waited for you to make your next move.

"You're a bad bluffer," he pointed out with a smirk.

“And you’re a talker,” you quipped back with sass. You were silent for a moment before you decided to either go big or go home, “Raise,” you said to him.

Your eyes were glued to him, watching for his reaction. Was he going to fold or call? Either way, you believed you had a better hand than him.

"And you're cocky, too," he returned with a hint of humor in his voice. He raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised by your bold move. Even if you didn't know how to play, you had some guts.

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on you before returning to his cards. After a moment of contemplating, he pushes a stack of chips forward, adding to the pot.

"Call. Let's see what you've got," he challenges you with a sly smile.

You turned your cards over, revealing a Diamond Queen and Clover King. You put them down and crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him with a smirk.

The bet was a high number of money. Probably worth more than your limbs being sold in the black market. But you were here for a reason, to earn some quick money. The man in front of you looked quite wealthy, wealthy and rich men weren’t uncommon in this place but it still made you feel a bit inferior with everyone wanting to show off.

Leon leaned forward, inspecting your cards closely. The smirk on your face said it all. You thought you had a good hand, and he wouldn't deny that you had a decent one. But, it wasn't enough to beat him. He leaned back into his seat once more, his expression unchanging, as he revealed his own cards. A Spade Queen and a Diamond Ace. A straight flush. His eyes met yours, his smirk turning into a cocky grin.

"I'm afraid you've lost this round, darling," he said in a teasing tone.

Your smirk immediately fell as you saw his straight flush. Wow, you lost again. You didn’t even notice him calling you by a pet name. Did you owe this man money now? How did you not see it coming? That bastard was cocky and confident as hell! You should’ve known he had a good hand.

Leon chuckled once again. The look on your face was priceless—a mix of frustration and disbelief.

He loved it.

"Looks like I win again," he said teasingly, gathering up the chips on the table, "And don't worry, darling, you don't owe me anything. Just better luck next time."

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze still fixed on you as he smirked. He found your reaction absolutely adorable.

You furrowed your brows confused, you didn’t owe him anything? “Wait, are you serious?” You asked confusedly. He was different from other guys around here. Was he really willing to forget about your loss and even wished you better luck?

Who was this guy? There was something about him, though, that seemed dangerous and suspicious, “Why?”

Leon tilted his head to the side as he observed you, noticing the confusion on your face. You were clearly surprised by his words. It seems like you’re *not* used to men like him.

He chuckled softly at your question. "Why? Because I'm a gentleman," he responds with a smirk.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving your face, "And I'm not in the business of taking money from pretty young girls like yourself. I'm not that heartless."

Your cheeks flared, did he just say you were pretty? You’ve never met a man so… straightforward. You cleared your throat and nibbled on your bottom lip, “Thank you,” you muttered quietly. Leon's gaze softened as he watched your cheeks flush and saw you bite your bottom lip. *Adorable.*

He’s a gentleman, he’s not *that* heartless? You didn’t understand him. He wore expensive clothes and his aura was confident.

“Is there anything else you’d like in return?” You asked as you looked at him, your arms on the table, “I’d feel guilty if you went back home empty handed.”

He leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. "There is... one thing," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once more. "Your name," he said simply, his smile widening, "I'd like to know your name."

You stared at him for a few moments before you nodded slightly, “Okay,” you muttered. You extended your hand towards him, “My name is Y/n,” you said softly. He was truly a gentleman, wasn’t he? He doesn’t take money from girls and he was respectful. He’s one of a kind.

Leon looked at your hand for a moment before taking it gently in his own. His rough, calloused fingers wrapped around your small, soft hand. He loved the contrast between your skin and his. The way your slender fingers fit perfectly in his grasp.

"Y/n," he repeated quietly, as if he was testing the way the name felt on his tongue. He let out a soft chuckle before bringing your hand to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your cheeks flushed even more red when he kissed your knuckles. Did he come out of a book or something?! You’ve never met a man that screamed rich and respectful man. It was attractive. You were a bit speechless. Most guys met wouldn’t even be bothered to know your name and yet, here he was, treating you like a lady. Did he time travel or something?

You didn’t even try to move your hand away, it was like you got stuck in a trance. He was an enigma, who knew your poker opponent was so… you didn’t even know how to describe it. He chuckled softly at your reaction. He wasn't surprised, after all, most men don't have manners these days. Not men like him.

He slowly released your hand, though he couldn't bring himself to completely let go just yet. He continued to hold onto it, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

“Can I know your name too?” You asked a bit hesitantly, you wanted to know but you didn’t want to seem disrespectful. He felt so fancy, like a true gentleman. The kind of man you read in romance books where you could only dream of being treated with such care.

"Of course, darling," he replied in a low tone, his gaze still fixated on your face. He could tell that you were completely taken by him, though he couldn't blame you, most girls were. He could tell that you were captivated by his mannerisms and demeanor. It seemed like you appreciated his old-fashioned actions and chivalry, not that he was surprised. But something told him that you were different than the others. You weren't just after his wealth or status, he could see it in your eyes.

In the game of poker, it was easy to fall and lose. But for some reason, you like playing with him even if it means losing most of the rounds.

You didn’t even notice the two bodyguards approaching him from behind since you didn’t know what his occupation was like. You were strangers. The two bodyguards were ready to jump into action if you tried anything suspicious. But what could you do? You were completely harmless.

As his bodyguards approached from behind, Leon glanced over his shoulder at them. He held up a hand, silently signaling for them to hold off. The bodyguards stood a few feet away, far enough to not listen to your conversation but close enough to jump to him if he got into a dangerous situation. Leon's lips curled into an amused smile as he watched you realize the presence of his bodyguards. They were there to protect him, after all.

"My name is Leon," he finally replied, his voice just above a whisper. "Leon Kennedy."

“Leon,” you repeated, tasting the way it rolled off your tongue. It was a fancy name, suiting him very well.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Kennedy,” you said politely. Leon suppressed a chuckle as you repeated his name, the sound of it on your lips was like music to his ears. It was as if you were singing his name, rather than simply saying it.

He smirked when you called him 'Mister Kennedy,' finding your use of a formal title both amusing and endearing. "Please, call me Leon. 'Mister Kennedy' makes me feel old," he teased, his voice low and smooth.

You couldn’t help the small smile from reaching your lips, just minutes ago he beat you in a game of poker and yet, he didn’t make you feel bad for losing. You nodded at him, “Alright, I won’t.”

Then, one of the two bodyguards approached Leon, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “Sir, your presence is being requested on the tenth floor,” he whispered. Leon's expression, although unchanging, darkened at the bodyguard's words. He knew exactly what it meant for his presence to be "requested" on the tenth floor. But he didn't want to leave just yet. He was enjoying the time he had with you, he was enjoying your company and your sweet demeanor. If only he could stay a little bit longer.

He nodded at the bodyguard, silently signaling that he understood. He looked back at you, his expression softening once again.

"I have business to attend to," he said quietly, a hint of regret in his voice.

“Oh, right, yeah,” you muttered quickly under your breath as you stood up, fixing your outfit that you were wearing, “I shouldn’t take more of your time,” you said softly and politely, “It was nice meeting you, Leon. I hope to play with you in the future.”

Leon looked up at you as you stood up, his gaze following every movement. He could feel his heart skip a beat, he found you truly adorable. He felt a pang of disappointment when you mentioned not taking up more of his time. But he understood, he had responsibilities to take care of.

"The pleasure was all mine, darling," he said quietly, his voice slightly strained. He didn't want you to leave, but he had no choice.

“Sir,” one bodyguard spoke up from behind him, “Should we keep an eye on her?” He asked as the bodyguard’s gaze remained on your form, you were already standing by the bar drinking a damn fountain drink.

It was clear that the bodyguards were good at their job, they wanted to keep Leon safe since he was a mafia boss and enemies could be everywhere. Leon's gaze shifted from yours as he focused on his bodyguard's question. He could sense the slight tension in the air, the bodyguards were always cautious. But that was their job, to protect him at all costs.

He shook his head slightly, "No, that won't be necessary," he replied coldly, "She's harmless," he added, his eyes fixated on you once more.

“Yes sir,” the bodyguard said before the two bodyguards began to escort Leon to the elevator to get to the tenth floor. As Leon walked towards the elevator, escorted by his bodyguards, he couldn't help but glance back one last time, his eyes settling on your form at the bar.

He felt a twinge of something, was it concern? He wasn't sure. The thought of you being approached by someone else made him uneasy. But he had to remind himself that you weren't his responsibility.

He stepped into the elevator, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you.

"Watch her," he muttered to his bodyguards, "make sure no one goes near her."

The bodyguard nodded before stepping out of the elevator and went over to watch from a distance to not scare me off.

He was left with the other bodyguard and as they reached the tenth floor, the doors opened to reveal a very expensive suite, “Ah, Leon,” the voice of a man rang as he approached Leon.

The man was no other than a guy that went by an alias, “Kyle”, for safety reasons, “Glad you could make it,” he was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, the belt tight around his waist to keep him from flashing anyone. Kyle was a character, that much was clear. Greeting Leon as if they were old friends.

"Cut the pleasantries," Leon replied coolly as he strode past Kyle, into the extravagant suite. Despite his cold exterior, his mind was still occupied by thoughts of you.

Kyle laughed and followed after Leon, “Always cutting to the chase, huh, amigo?” He said the Spanish word in a terrible accent, he didn’t even know Spanish.

Kyle was truly one of a kind but he was an ally to Leon’s mafia. Matter of fact, he provided Leon with the newest weapons from an Italian manufacturer. Illegal weapon trafficking.

“Got some new ladies you might want to see,” he said as he walked in front of Leon, guiding him to his room. As he entered his room, the sheets were messy and two naked women laid on the bed. With a flick of his wrist, the ladies stepped out of the room, giving Leon a wink.

As they entered the room, Leon couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of the naked women on the bed. Was this really necessary?

"I'm not interested," he said bluntly, his cold tone sending a clear message. Despite his outwardly tough demeanor, Leon disliked the lifestyle that Kyle embodied.

Kyle definitely had a typical lifestyle of a play boy, always finding girls to sleep with as he spends money on expensive champagne and clothes. But he was a good provider for the mafia. Kyle was needed; a necessary evil.

But Leon wasn’t a womanizer like that, especially with the way he treated you. Kyle chuckled and shook his head, “Oh, I think you will,” he muttered before I retrieved a box and opened it. Leon's expression changed. The sight of the new weapons in the box piqued his interest.

“Got these new ladies fresh from Rome,” he said, revealing new manufactured guns, “These are in beta testing but their purpose isn’t like regular guns—no. These babies hold up to thrice the ammunition and can fire double bullets at the same time.”

He could already see the potential these guns held. The extra ammunition and the ability to fire double bullets at once could give his men an advantage in a dangerous situation.

"Interesting," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the guns. Despite his dislike for Kyle's lifestyle, Leon had to admit he knew how to source the best weapons.

"How did you get your hands on these?" he asked, his voice now lacking any hostility.

Kyle shrugged and leaned back, “I sent a blueprint last month over to my manufacturer in Italy. Said he’d give it a try. He experimented here and there right before he sent me these prototypes.”

“But I don’t recommend using them yet,” he said as he walked over to stand next to Leon, draping an arm around Leon’s shoulders as if they were best friends.

“Something about them probably not working and backfiring. Blah, blah, blah. You know the nerd stuff,” he said.

Leon's brow furrowed as he heard Kyle's words. Using untested weapons could be risky, especially if they had the potential for a devastating recoil. He pushed Kyle's arm off his shoulders, his expression turning cold again. He wasn't fond of being touched, especially by someone like Kyle.

"Then why show them to me if they might not work?" he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. He preferred to focus on proven weapons, not experimental ones.

As his arm was pushed off his shoulders, Kyle wasn’t a bit ashamed, “Well, before we proceed with the testing, we needed your approval.”

Then, Kyle grew a bit serious, which only ever happened once a fortnight. He leaned closer to Leon to whisper in his ear, “I’ve heard that there’s been recent suspicious activity up north where the colony is. This is just a precaution because I don’t want anyone stealing my guns.”

Ever since Leon became the new mafia boss, which was years ago, many other bosses have tried to take him down. Even if it meant stealing his resources. Despite his disdain for Kyle, Leon couldn't ignore the serious look on his face. He knew that when Kyle spoke like this, he wasn't messing around.

"Suspicious activity, you say?" he replied, his voice low and calculating. He didn't appreciate being targeted, especially by other mafia bosses, "Any idea who might be behind it?"

He shrugged and shook his head, “No, there’s no idea who it might be but I’ve heard rumors that it’s someone who’s after your territory.”

Kyle sighed and stored the guns away once more, “In any case. Call me up if you change your plan, I’ll send word to Italy to keep producing and testing. Until then,” he said before he patted Leon on the shoulder and walked out of his room saying, “Alright, ladies, who’s ready for some sexy time on the jacuzzi?”

Leon watched as Kyle left the room, rolling his eyes at the man's behavior. Despite Kyle's eccentricities and playboy lifestyle, he couldn't deny that he was an asset to the mafia. As the sound of laughter and splashing water came from the jacuzzi, Leon turned his attention back to the matter at hand. The possibility of someone targeting his territory unsettled him.

With a deep sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts once again drifting to you. He couldn't seem to get you off his mind.

“Do you want to go back to the main floor, Sir?” His bodyguard asked. Leon's eyes went to his bodyguard, and he nodded.

"Yes," he said simply. He had to go back to the main floor. He knew that his bodyguards had been instructed to keep an eye on you, and he was curious to see if you were still there.

As he stepped out of the room, he couldn't help but glance over at the bar. He could see you sitting there, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. Despite the presence of his bodyguard, he took a subtle step closer, watching you from a distance.

Now the three men were watching you, Leon with his two bodyguards behind him. They were no longer on the tenth floor and instead were on the main floor where you were.

“Who is she, boss?” One bodyguard asked. They had seen Leon play with you for a few rounds but they didn’t hear your conversation. Of how he forgave your debt and asked for your name, but they did see him kiss your hand. Leon's gaze never left you, his eyes watching your every move. He could feel the curiosity of his bodyguards, they had clearly noticed his interaction with you.

“Do you know her?” The other bodyguard asked. They still kept professional but their curiosity was high. They’ve never seen Leon talk to a woman before, he’d usually brush them off because he knew they were after his money.

"She's nobody," Leon replied, his voice cold and distant. Even though he had shown you a rare moment of humanity, he didn’t want his bodyguards to think he had a “soft spot”, especially towards a stranger.

"She's just a poker player, that's all," he added, dismissing their curiosity. But his eyes told a different story, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you.

“A terrible one,” one commented, “A Diamond queen and clover king against your straight flush… she’s got confidence.”

“Or maybe she didn’t know. Our boss holds a really good poker face,” the other replied. Which was true, Leon was a damn good poker player but you also didn’t play like a professional. You barely knew what you were doing.

You turned around to get your bag from the stool next to your standing form, seemingly finished with your drink and getting ready to pay for it.

Leon's eyes followed your every movement, his mind racing, "She was a challenge,” he said quietly, his voice betraying a hint of amusement. Despite your lack of skill, he had enjoyed playing with you, it had been surprisingly fun.

As he saw you turn to retrieve your bag, he felt a strange pang in his chest. He didn’t want you to leave yet. He took a step forward, his bodyguards following closely behind him.

You were too busy looking through your bag, pulling out your wallet and counting the bills you had to pay your tab. Would it even be considered a tab if you got non-alcoholic drinks? You didn’t notice Leon returning at all, his bodyguards didn’t say anything. They knew better than to prod at his life choices. If anything, they’d just keep a more careful eye on you to make sure nothing bad happened.

“Hold on—“ you said to the bartender as you counted your coins to give him the exact number of your total.

As you began counting your coins to pay the bartender, he couldn't help but step forward and reach into his pocket, "I'll cover it," he said, his voice firm and commanding. He felt strangely compelled to take care of you, even in this small gesture.

You straightened up at the sound of his voice, your heart jumped and beat quickly as you whipped your head to look at none other than Leon. Always a true gentleman.

“I—“ you said as yoi looked at him and the bartender before you looked back at his blue eyes, “No, it’s okay. I’ve got this,” you said quietly. He’d already forgiven your debt and now he wants to pay for your drinks?

Leon's expression remained stoic as he heard your protest. He didn't expect you to be so modest and determined to pay for your own drinks. But he found it endearing.

"It's not a problem," he replied, his voice firm. He could sense your guilt, but he didn’t want you to feel like a charity case. He genuinely wanted to take care of you, even if it was in small ways. He slid a few bills to the bartender, paying for your drinks and closing the tab before you could argue further.

Your cheeks blushed again as you looked away, you’ve never had anyone take care of you like he has, “You’re too kind,” you muttered in a flustered tone.

He was already breaking his own rules because the bodyguards seemed to have picked up on some details. It wasn’t common for them to see Leon be so… interested in a woman. Much less someone like you but they found it oddly endearing. Secretly cheering for their boss.

Leon was taller than you so you had to look up at him, “Did everything go well with your business?” You asked genuinely. Leon's expression softened slightly as he saw your flushed cheeks and your sincere question. He was unused to caring about someone’s well being, but he found himself wanting to share a bit with you.

"Yes, business went well," he confirmed, his voice remaining cool and collected. But there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes, the stresses of being a mafia boss often taking a toll on him.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calculating but not unkind. "And how have you been?" he asked, surprising himself with his own question.

“Oh, you know,” you faintly shrugged your shoulders as you pointed towards the bar, “I stayed there the whole time. I don’t like wandering on my own. Lots of… creeps out here, y’know?”

But he wasn’t a creep. He was far from it. Leon was a gentleman, a man who knew how to treat women right.

Leon chuckled, a rare sound coming from him, at your straightforward answer. He found it refreshing how honest you were, unlike the fake smiles and flattery he usually received from people.

His eyes swept the casino floor, full of various people, men, and women. He knew you were right about the creeps that roamed around, especially with a pretty face like yours.

"You're right about the creeps," he agreed, his voice low and protective. "A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be out here alone."

Your cheeks blushed again when he said you were pretty, why was he so casual with the compliments?! But nevertheless, you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your lips, “Yeah… I was about to leave since it was getting late, actually,” you said as you quickly remembered what you were doing.

“I was going to get an Uber and go back home. I should probably practice my poker skills too,” you said with a small smile. Leon's gaze darkened slightly at the mention of you leaving. He didn't want this night to end, not when he'd enjoyed your company more than he thought he would.

He took a step closer, shortening the distance between you. "An Uber?" he repeated, his voice taking on a hint of disapproval. "With all the creepers out there?"

He paused, seeming to consider something before speaking again. "Let me give you a ride home," he offered, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes widened a bit and your breath hitched when he stepped closer to you and offered you a ride home. You should’ve said no but for some reason, you felt safe in his presence. You slowly nodded your head, feeling like you shouldn’t reject his offer. He’s been kind to you and you wanted to be kind as well, “Only if it’s not a burden.”

“I’d hate to shift your plans for the night. I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” you said with a nervous laugh as you played with your hands.

Leon couldn't help but chuckle at your words and the nervousness in your laugh. You were clearly unused to being cared for like this, but it was almost endearing to see you flustered. He shook his head, his expression serious. "It's not a burden," he reassured you. "And you're not an inconvenience. I wouldn't offer unless I meant it."

He motioned for his bodyguards to follow as he put a hand gently on your lower back, beginning to guide you towards the exit. You gathered your things, which was just your purse, and let him guide you towards the exit. His bodyguards were shocked to say the least. They knew Leon didn’t like to be touched or touch other people but here he was, gently putting his hand on you to guide you out of the building. They were in for a fun ride.

As you made it out and stepped outside, you were met with wind. The wind blew over your form, goosebumps on your skin as you wrapped your arms over your chest to give yourself some heat. Leon noticed your body shiver, the cool night air obviously getting to you. He was so used to suppressing his own physical needs that he had briefly forgotten that you weren’t built for the harsher elements like he was.

"Here," he said gruffly. He removed his black jacket and gently placed it around your shoulders, his fingers lingering for a moment on the fabric.

The black suit jacket was big on you but it was so warm, it even smelled like his cologne and you felt your cheeks flare up. He smelled good, “Thank you,” you said as you looked up at him.

A black car pulled in front of you, it was fancy and the black was matte. No doubt, the latest car. Just how rich was he? One of the bodyguards moved towards the door and opened it for the two of you. Leon nodded in acknowledgement of your thanks, his eyes never leaving yours, "After you," he said, gesturing for you to get into the car first. His voice was gruff, but there was a warm undertone in it.

He waited, standing by the car door, until you climbed in, before he slid into the seat beside you, closing the door behind him. The bodyguards climbed into the front seat, the engine purring softly to life.

No one would’ve believed them if they said that Leon was warm and kind. They’ve seen the type of ruthless man he could be, he was a mafia boss! Hence why the bodyguards were shocked. They’ve never seen him act this way with anyone.

You sat next to Leon, your thighs pressed together and your form still wearing his black suit jacket, “Thank you,” you said before you climbed to sit next to him. You were new to the whole taken care of thing. Leon felt a pang of something unfamiliar in his chest when you thanked him again. It was as if you weren’t used to being treated like this, but he found himself wanting to give you more. He felt the strange urge to wrap you in his arms, to keep you close and away from the world.

He let out a low hum of acknowledgment. "You don’t need to keep thanking me," he said quietly, his voice low and rough.

You softy laughed at his words despite his low and rough voice, “Sorry, force of habit. I’m not used to people being so kind to me. Especially after playing Poker with me,” you replied with a small but genuine smile.

“Most guys would either just get mad at me for beating them or they would humiliate me further for beating me,” you said quietly, your hands laying on your lap as you looked down at them.

Then you glanced back at him, “But you’re different. I think… I like to have you as my opponent… if you’d let me,” but it was more than just Poker, right? It was about connecting, about seeing him again. His expression softened as you spoke again, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "You like having me as your opponent, huh?" he said, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

He reached out, his hand gently resting on top of yours, his touch calloused but surprisingly gentle, "You don’t even know what you’re asking for."

Your breath hitched and you looked down at his hand on top of yours. Even though he’d held your hand and kissed it, you still got flustered.

But he was right. Essentially, you didn’t even know him. You met him today and lost a poker game. But something in you wanted to keep seeing him, you didn’t want to let such a kind man go.

“I can learn,” you whispered. This went beyond poker, even though you spoke about it, hidden words were conveyed. You didn’t know what you were asking for, not knowing he was in the mafia. Leon's smirk grew at your words, a hint of something more behind it. He could hear the double meaning in your words, and it sent a thrill through him. Here you were, this timid, pretty thing, wanting to get to know him better.

His fingers gently squeezed your hand as he spoke, his voice low. "You’re a fast learner, I bet," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

But then his expression darkened slightly, the reality of his world intruding on the moment. He was a mafia boss, and you… you were innocent and pure.

You nodded, “I like learning things. Knowledge is power, is what George Orwell said once,” you muttered. Leon's smirk turned into a half-smile at your mention of George Orwell. This girl was full of surprises. It seemed to him that you were more than just a pretty face working as a pit boss.

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if reflexively trying to keep a grip on you. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he should let you go before you get swept into the dangerous world he lived in.

But something about you was making him greedy. The Mafia Boss never had to worry about letting go before, now, he didn’t want to.

You felt his hand tighten around yours and you didn’t want to let go yet. Once you reached your apartment, you looked at him and leaned towards his face to whisper, “Think it over,” you whispered, your brows furrowing a bit before you let go of his hand and got out of the car.

Leon's eyes widened slightly at your whisper, your unexpected boldness sending a jolt of surprise, and something else through him. You'd just told him to think things over, as if it was a date that you were asking him on. But before he could open his mouth to reply, you had already slipped out of the car, leaving him a bit taken aback.

He stayed sitting in his seat for a beat, his fingers clenching the leather, his eyes fixed on your figure. You were playing with fire, and you didn’t even realize it.

You were about to walk into your apartment when you realized you were still wearing his suit jacket. You quickly ran back towards the car and slipped it the jacket off, giving him an awkward smile, “I, uh…”

“Almost forgot this,” you muttered softly, the pink hue on your cheeks not leaving any time soon. Leon took the jacket in his hands, his gaze lingering on you as you handed it to him. He took in your flushed cheeks, your awkward smile, and it sent a pang through his chest.

He wanted to reach out, to touch your cheek, to do something to keep you from leaving. But instead, he simply folded the jacket over his arm, his fingers tracing the fabric.

"Keep it," he said, his voice rough. "It looks better on you."

Your eyes widened a bit and your lips parted into a small ‘Oh’ when he gave you the jacket once more. To which you slowly took, you didn’t want to be greedy but you loved the way it smelled.

“Thank you,” you whispered sincerely, “For tonight.”

The offer still stood. You were willing to throw yourself down into a fire if it meant getting to know him better. Isn’t that what Poker is about? To understand your opponent? But this wasn’t about Poker anymore.

Leon clenched his jaw as he watched your expression, your sincere thanks only making it harder for him to let you go. Your naivete was like a double-edged sword - it drew him in but also made him hesitant.

But he wasn’t some saint. No, far from it. He was a Mafia Boss, and he wasn’t used to denying himself.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with yours, his voice a rough, quiet murmur. “When can I see you again?”

You stared at him through the window, a bit surprised that he wanted to see you again. You were just some idiot poker player and yet… was he actually considering seeing you again?

You stood there in shock for a few seconds like an absolute idiot before you realized you hadn’t said anything. Your cheeks flushed and you quickly cleared your throat, “Uh—“

He paused, his eyes roaming over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uncertainty. It was a new sight for him, having a woman so clearly out of his world be so... vulnerable.

“You want to see me again?” You asked unsure. Leon’s lips quirked up into a small smirk at your reaction, your surprise and confusion only endearing you to him more. You were just so damn endearing. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze sharp, “Yes, I want to see you again.”

“Well, I’m free this Saturday… if you want to—I dunno—go out…?”

“Saturday it is, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

This time, you couldn’t help the smile that reached your lips. Was he truly taking you out on a date? You nodded your head at him, your lips curling up into a genuine smile, “Alright…” you muttered quietly, “I’ll see you then. You know where I live anyway.”

He offered you a ride and now knows where you lived, but somehow, you felt comfortable with him knowing, “Goodnight, Leon.”

You walked backwards, looking at him for as long as possible before eventually turning around to get into your apartment. Leon watched as you retreated back into your apartment, his gaze following your every move. There was a strange flutter in his chest, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something that he thought he had lost.

When you disappeared from sight, he let out a low, rough exhale, running his hand through his short hair. This was dangerous, getting close to you, but he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care.

“Goodnight, doll,” he murmured, watching your door close behind you.

[suns-pott]

Leona and Malleus Mayhem! - Self Aware!Yandere!Leona and Malleus x reader

A short drabble inspired by Yuri and Natsuki's fight in ddlc hehe

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

You logged in to Twisted Wonderland as usual, deciding to reread Malleus's Ceremonial Robes vignette. Everything was going well until Leona and Malleus's argument as the scene transitioned to Malleus's groovy CG.

Leona: ...You thinkin' you're gonna get it next time? Well, sorry to break it to you, but no one's ever gonna invite you. The player's never gonna want to see you in those robes again, so just put 'em away for good already.

Malleus: ...... Have you finished being catty? Wild beasts certainly like the sound of their own howling. And they like seeing me in these too, you know. They've even added me as their home character in these robes.

That's odd... The dialogue is different. Why are they referring to you as the 'player' now?

Leona: Oh? I didn't realise you were so focused on trying to impress them, lizard.

The scene transitioned back to the Diasomnia lounge; Leona looked smug, and Malleus looked surprised, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Malleus: Eh? That's not...

Malleus closed his eyes and uncrossed his arms, opening them again to a neutral expression.

Malleus: Maybe you're just jealous that they appreciate my appearance in my ceremonial robes more than they appreciated yours.

Malleus looked smug once again, grinning with a hand placed on his hip. Leona suddenly looked angry, his ears twitching in annoyance.

Leona: Huh?! And how do you know that they didn't appreciate my ceremonial robes more? Are you that full of yourself?

Malleus: ...If I was full of myself, I would deliberately go out of my way to take naps around campus and act abrasive towards everyone!

They both seemed to be getting heated now, Malleus had lost any trace of amusement as he looked angry.

Leona: Tch, well, you know what? I wasn't the one that magically grew 5 centimeters bigger as soon as the player started showing up!

Malleus looked shocked now, the accusation was completely unexpected for him, and for you too.

Malleus: Kingscholar...!

Lilia's sprite suddenly moved into frame, his hands on his hips as he had a neutral expression, clearly wanting to break up the fight.

Lilia: You two, this is-

He was cut off by Malleus and Leona speaking in unison, Lilia's textbox moving forward without you tapping the screen to continue at all. In fact, no attempt to reach the menu or skip past was effective, now you were locked in this interaction.

Leona & Malleus: This doesn't involve you!

Malleus: Taking out your own insecurities on others like this, you really act as young as your age, Kingscholar.

Leona: Me? Look who's talking you wannabe edgy bastard.

The screen glitched, the edges of the screen darkened and tv static played over everything for a moment, before disappearing in an instant, both characters looked absolutely enraged.

Malleus: Edgy? Apologies that my natural charisma is too much for someone of your mental age to comprehend!

Leona: See? Just saying that proves my point! Most people learn to get over themselves once they move on from Freshman year, you know.

Malleus: If you want to prove anything, then stop harassing others with your sickeningly obnoxious attitude! Do you think you can counterbalance your toxic personality just by dressing and acting favorably to the player?

The background was slowly starting to fizzle out as the static returned, the character sprites and the textbox were the only things unobscured.

Leona: Whoa, be careful or you might cut yourself on that edge, Draconia.

Malleus seemed to be much more riled up now, and Leona looked smug once again.

Leona: Oh, my bad, you already do, don't you?

Malleus: D-Did you just accuse me of cutting myself? What the fuck is wrong with your head?!

That's new... None of the characters have cursed in the game before, and now that the vignette has gone off the rails, anything could happen. Your screen continued to glitch, everything around Malleus and Leona was getting fuzzy with more static, only their sprites and the textbox was able to be seen.

Leona: Yeah, go on! Let them hear everything you really think! I'm sure they'll be head over heels for you after this!

Malleus looked surprised again, now seeming to actually acknowledge you now.

Malleus: (Y/N)...? He's just trying to make me look bad...

He now addressed you by name, well the name that you put into the game for the protagonist anyways. His tone was strangely meek, unlike that of his usual character, his formal way of speaking has disappeared, now focused on defending himself to you, until Leona cut in again, also addressing you more directly.

Leona: That's not true! He started it!

The screen glitched again, two boxes appeared in front of the characters, one read 'Malleus' and the other read 'Leona', one on top of the other as you now had a choice to make.

Which will you choose?

[0carkki0]

Yes! They are kissing! So sue me!

Feelings and relationships are complicated. Especially these two’s.

[schoenpepper]

Teeth (5 Seconds of Summer)

Intro: It's nothing but a modern rendition of Romeo and Juliet to you. But Jade will twist the narrative into Bonnie and Clyde, if it means he'll get his hands on the one he loves.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread it's too long for me to give a fuck, blood, gore-ish, death (minor charac), bad bad things, criminals, Jade and Floyd are warnings of their own, implied shmexy times, 100% inaccurate interpol description but it was that or the Red Room from marvels idk maybe the kingsman, the fish mafia are verrrrry bad people here ok, but reader doesnt care, betrayal

A/N: Did I fall in love with Jade halfway into writing this? Of course not. I fell in love with Jade a whileeeee ago. Anyway, this is the first installment of my Twisted Harmonies series, a bunch of songfics with different characters and plots and universes.

Masterlist

Some days you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

Aren't you just a darling little thing?

Jade isn't Azul's right hand man for nothing; he sees through your facade all too easily. A little too naive for the sexy outfit you're wearing and a little too innocent for the foxy persona you've put up. The police force had sent lots of undercover agents before. Unfortunately for them, none had been as interesting as you.

He watches you stumble onto the seat next to him. You order a drink and meet his eyes, giving him a charming smile.

Ah.

He understands now.

You weren't sent as a mistake. You were sent because even your superiors saw an overflowing charisma that you yourself didn't seem to notice. They were likely betting on him being drawn to you (and you having better acting skills). They've underestimated him again.

Jade thinks he's too far gone to be a gentleman now, but he chuckles and offers to pay for your pina colada. You accept with a glint in your pretty eyes, and he congratulates himself for picking up a cute little plaything for the next few months. He hears out the alias you have and listens to your cover story with a close-lipped smile. When he leads the conversation to other places, he takes note of when you perk up and start shaking off the person you were forced to be in order to get closer to him. "You like that movie too? That's awesome! I thought I was the only person who knew what it was."

"It's definitely one of my favorite films, but it's not too popular, hm?"

"Right." You pout and huff so adorably, he might just take you where you're sat. He doesn't think you're supposed to like the things you're saying you like, but he enjoys seeing you mess up, if nothing else. "You know," Jade takes a sip of his martini, "I have a copy of it on DVD, if you'd like to come to my place and watch it. Maybe stay for the night...maybe have breakfast in the morning...?" He sees you light up and you seem to finally remember your mission, pushing down the bubbly and energetic rookie and projecting out an image of this mature and seductive force of nature.

It's just too funny.

He drives you to his small villa at the edge of town and he pops the CD into the DVD player. He wasn't lying when he said he liked the movie, and he enjoys hearing your commentary on it because it brings him new insights about the plot as well as you. After the movie, he takes you to his bedroom (like a gentleman 💙) and even cooks you breakfast in the morning. Muffins and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. A part of his attention is on you as you eat breakfast blearily, but most of it is in the file he has on hand while drinking his morning coffee.

[Name: Y/N L/N]

[Status: Recent graduate of the X police academy, honor student]

[Threat level: Unknown]

Jade picks up his pen, looks on as you burn your tongue on your coffee, and jots down a note.

[Threat level: Unknown (near zero, requires further investigation)]

Sometimes you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me, or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

The second time you meet up with your target is on a "date". You'd spent hours in front of the mirror just to look your most "seductive", yet Jade barely even bats an eye. He picks you up from the apartment you were assigned in his swanky, expensive, customized Rolls Royce and drives you both to this upscale 3 Michelin star restaurant in the middle of the city. You feel slightly uncomfortable because of all the haughty uppity-ness of the people in the other tables, but Jade's gloved hand is placed on the small of your back as he walks with you to the table he'd reserved. "Sorry, I'm not too used to places like these." You smile awkwardly at Jade.

And berate yourself internally because you're supposed to be mature and experienced and whatever.

"Nonsense dear, we're not here to keep up appearances." Thankfully, he's always a very nice person (if you ignore him being one of the leaders of possibly the biggest organized crime group in the world). He even pulls your chair out for you and everything. "I just wish for you to have an enjoyable time. Now tell me about the types of dishes you like, and perhaps any allergies?"

"Oh, I don't have any allergies. But I like chicken, and mushrooms!" You grin at him happily.

He pauses at your words, which makes you think that maybe you said something wrong, causing you to bow your head and stare at the French squiggles you just can't understand on the menu you're holding.

"I like mushrooms too."

The smile he gives you is all too blinding. You've always known he was rather pretty, but seeing him smile like this makes you aware of his insane face card. Him liking mushrooms wasn't on the file (even the international police force doesn't have much on the Leech brothers' files, much less Ashengrotto's), but you're glad you have something else to talk to him about. 

"I even grow them myself."

Your jaw drops and you have to stop yourself from barreling over the table and onto him as words just start pouring out of your mouth. "Seriously? That's so cool! Where do you grow them? Did you learn by yourself? Can you teach me? Do you think I can grow some too? Oh, wait!" You clear your throat and lean back on your chair. You're blowing your cover again, you just know it. "I mean, that sounds cool. Apologies for rambling."

Jade laughs and waves you off.

"No, I like that you're so passionate. You've been to my home before, perhaps you'd enjoy going back after dinner? I'll show you my terrariums."

"Awesome!"

You'll remember to keep up your disguise later.

Your waiter comes by with recommendations and wine, and your date is too sweet with how he constantly asks for your opinion. When you show any form of hesitance, he easily helps you out whether it be with ordering your entree or asking for another plate. Conversation flows too naturally with the teal-haired man and dinner leads to checking his terrariums, to staying up too late drinking sips of his stash of red wine while he helps you make a terrarium of your own, to passing out on his bed next to him.

When you wake up the next day, you realize you forgot to probe for information.

Oh well.

You can always see Jade next time.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Everyday, you get more and more delectable.

"Whatcha' watchin', Jade?" Floyd leans over his shoulder to peer at the monitor in front of him. On the screen is you, oh lovely, beautiful, adorable you, in a skin tight suit made of a fabric that clings to your every curve so wonderfully. You do a turn to evade your opponent and land a kick on their abdomen. "Eh? Who's this spiky little pufferfish? New toy o' yours?"

"Not a toy." Even Jade is surprised by the words that leave his lips, but it curls into a sickeningly sweet smile as he continues. "They're cute, aren't they? Feisty."

You send the other person to the edge of the ring with a punch.

"What, so you'll keep 'em?"

When your opponent rushes back to you, you do a series of beautiful and swift movements to bring them down on their knees. Admittedly, the smallest part of him is rather jealous by the way you step on the person's chest to keep them down.

"Absolutely. They'll make a cute pet~"

"Hah, you're so weird." Floyd rolls his eyes and stands back up properly. "The Interpol'll notice your cameras soon, y'know they're not that stupid to keep their own training grounds unchecked."

"That's why I'm recording, of course."

"Freak."

"You wound me, truly."

For what he'd said about keeping you as a pet, he gets annoyingly ticked off at the sight of you helping up your comrade slash sparring partner. The way you laugh so unrestrainedly and smile so freely, in ways you refuse to do in front of him—your mission target—made him narrow his eyes and memorize the face of that friend of yours. Perhaps the frustration bubbling in his chest was only because his pet was rather uncooperative at the moment, still stubbornly holding onto the shredded pieces of your shoddy disguise. With that, he has no chance of seeing your many facets in the way you'd present them to a friend, to someone closer; because he dislikes that alias very much.

(He'll pull the Y/N L/N out of you sooner than later.)

"Whatever, just make sure to clean up or Azul's gonna be pissed."

"Of course."

He watches your figure leave the training ground and the camera's range.

Jade is a capable man who enjoys games.

And what game would be more fun than turning a police dog against its owners?

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"And, open your eyes!"

You fidget with your hands nervously, trying to hide your anxiousness with a proud grin. You glance at the spread you'd poured your time and effort into; a typical red plaid blanket splayed out over the grass under the shade of a large tree, a wicker basket with its contents already laid out on the blanket. Finger sandwiches and little jars of pasta and lemon iced tea and tiny cake slices in glass tupperwares. You look back at Jade who you'd asked to dress more casually today for your (you can't really count anymore at this point) date, wondering if he dislikes your little surprise.

"Um, I know it seems sudden, but I made it all myself." You blush and kneel down on the blanket to grab the utensils. "Because, the button mushrooms you helped me grow, they grew really nice and big so I chopped them up and put them into a bolognese, so I thought maybe you'd like to try my cooking!" You feel so embarrassed because why is Jade still so quiet holy shit, though the shame fades when he tugs you into his arms.

"Jade...?"

"Apologies." He pulls away slightly to kiss your forehead. "I am very touched by the thought. I appreciate your effort, my dear, and I look forward to tasting your cooking."

You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

It had felt like a chore the first few weeks, but touching him, kissing him, loving him is starting to feel good. Natural. Right.

It's not. But it feels right.

"You better, I was up from four a.m., you know?" You let out a grumble when he hums so happily, swaying you in his arms. "So next date, you owe me your cooking too."

"Of course, my dear."

"With no poisonous mushrooms?"

"I don't recall agreeing to that condition."

It's so peaceful when he gives you his commentary on your dishes and gives you advice regarding the iced tea you'd made, and there's such a lovely calmness when you take a nap with him after eating, curled up into each other under the shade, your head on his chest and his legs around your own. Everything else fades away when he helps you pack up your jars and tupperwares into your wicker basket and drives you home.

He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles with a close-eyed smile.

"Goodbye, my dear. Think of me always."

You close the door in his face so he doesn't see the blush on yours.

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

There's filth in the room, he can feel it with every pair of eyes that is shamelessly drinking in the sight of you. A polite curve to the lips, arm wrapped securely around you, he walks into the gala with the feeling of his favorite handgun digging into his thigh. He expects the night to go flawlessly; Azul would never throw an event that would end up in shambles, and your little organization is far too wary of this party being a trap to actually make a move. It doesn't change the bitter taste lingering in the back of his throat when these greasy middle-aged folks that Azul coined as "business partners" stared at you with their tongues lolling out like mutts sniffing a new treat.

Say, would his boss mind if he committed a little bit of homicide?

"Jade?"

Ah, but you look so sweet, looking up at him nervously. You must recognize the ugly faces, yes? Each and every one in the interconnected web of hell that Azul ruled over. "Don't worry darling, they're all friendly." Jade smiles, a genuine one, sweeping a glance over the crowd. "I'll make sure of it for you."

You seem comforted enough by his words, yet you still slink away into his side.

(Don't you know he's one of the most dangerous people here?)

"Azul, Floyd, this is my darling." He feels you freeze up when he introduces you to his brother and friend boss. His fingers run up and down your back in a soothing motion as he watches gears turn in the two's heads. "My love, this is Azul Ashengrotto. He's my superior of sorts. And this is Floyd, my twin brother."

The word 'love' has their eyes widen for just a split second.

Azul reaches out a hand to shake yours. "My, it's a pleasure to meet you. Jade has told us a lot about you." You smile nervously and shake his hand. Before his brother can full on tackle you and likely interrogate you about your relationship status, Jade gently pushes you off to the crowd with a nasty glare behind your back towards the piranhas circling.

"Do socialize for a bit, dear. I have a few things I need to talk about with them." He doesn't mention the bodyguards he'd gestured to keep an eye on you.

"So," Azul crosses his arms, "love, hm?"

Jade lets the polite smile fade from his face as he looks at them, one gloved hand on his chest. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

"You said pet!" Floyd huffs, shaking Jade by the arms. "No fair! What's with the secrets, Jaaaaade? You were supposed to tell me everything! When did you get a partner?"

"I wasn't lying, I just started seeing them differently." He consoles his brother with a chuckle.

"And how are you planning to keep it up?"

"Pardon?"

"Yeah, that person's a noobie undercover, right? Ya' can't hold on to some lousy loyal cop." Floyd rolls his eyes. "Don't be silly Jade, that loyalty's no good if it ain't yours."

"I'm sure he's already thought of that."

"But he doesn't seem prepared to let 'em go, though? A pet's fine, but if it's somethin' else, it'll be trouble."

Jade smiles again. "Not a pet anymore, no, but it's not that hard to train a lover either, is it?"

"What, you truly think that cop will fall for you enough that they'll throw away their principles and ideals for you?" Azul scoffs. "Without torture?"

"You think they won't?"

Azul and Floyd share a look then shrug in unison.

"I don't think there's a lot you can't do, to be honest."

"I don't care, long as you get those annoying do-gooders outta my face, capiche?"

Some days you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

It's boring.

God, it's so boring.

If you had known you would be subjecting yourself to petty small talk and the lecherous eyes of sleazy men twice, maybe three times your age, you would've clung on harder to Jade and forced yourself into whatever conversation he'd needed to have with Azul and Floyd. But then again, you don't think you have enough calm to face the Azul Ashengrotto without shaking in your boots (he's rich and evil and super duper powerful!). Floyd you can sort of handle, you do well with violence. Jade you slept with the night you met, so there wasn't all too much about him that still made you nervous. But Azul, that man's smart. You can't deal with wits like that—wits that gave him claws to dig his way out of whatever hellhole he was born in and right to the top of the food chain. He'll blow your cover all too easy.

You shift your champagne to the other hand and nod at your conversation partner.

No you don't get what he's bragging about, and you really don't care. This place is filled to the brim with the very wretches of society, faces you know from the red files you kept at headquarters. They parade around in human skins and even now, not a single person has said anything that even remotely implied ill-gotten wealth or human trafficking or whatever, so you know they're really good at keeping up face.

This one, he's getting a little too handsy.

"I can show you a good time."

You raise your hand to smash the champagne flute into his ugly face (Jade would definitely cover for you).

When did you get so confident?

Two big and bulky men in suits appear out of nowhere—they might be the asshole's bodyguards—but no, they restrain the other man and faster than you can blink, you're alone again with only the echoes of his shouting. You catch Jade's gaze on you from the corner of the room where he's still with Azul and Floyd.

His lips curl up in mischief and he winks.

Looks like your confidence wasn't misplaced, at least.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

"Jade, baby, I think we're lost."

"Nonsense, my pearl. I've been here a million times."

"You should've taken the left at the exit!"

"No, this is a shortcut."

"Jade!"

"Yes, my lovely backseat driver?"

He watches from the corner of his eye as you hold onto your seatbelt for dear life. "Where are we going?! It's not in the map. I swear if you actually get us lost—"

"What will you do?"

You pout at him. "Cry."

"Don't be so dramatic my love, I told you, I've been there before." Jade muses, one hand on the wheel and the other gently patting your thigh. He takes another turn and chuckles. "See? Look at the GPS, we're back on track."

When the Range Rover comes to a stop near a familiar campsite (he was not taking the Rolls Royce into the woods, thank you very much), you immediately hop out of your seat and start to fiddle with the items you'd brought with you. He gets out to help you carry the foldable tent and set it up not too far from the car. "Jade, did you buy new sleeping bags? These weren't the ones we used when we went to the lake." He watches on happily as you figure out there's only one, two-person sleeping bag.

"Wow. Are you cutting corners or are you just that clingy?"

"Whatever do you mean, love?" Jade turns to take out the coats he'd brought along, forcing you into one of them as you whined about its puffiness. Unfortunately, he'd rather not have a frozen lover to roast over the bonfire with the marshmallows. He intertwines your hand with his as you walk side by side on the trail, and he talks to you about safety procedures when hiking ("Do try not to separate, dear.") and protocols ("If you see a bear when I'm not around, say your last prayers." "What if you're around?" "I have a gun if it's really aggressive, don't worry about it." "Why do you have a gun, Jade?") and what kind of mushrooms would be safe to pick without gloves ("In general, if it's colorful, best leave it to me.").

He has such a great time hiking with his cute partner, even if you don't notice his camera taking snapshots every few minutes or so.

With a sack full of mushrooms and other flora, the both of you make your way back to the campsite. He starts on a fire while you set up the foldable chairs and prepare the ingredients for whatever would be dinner. He thinks it should be the mushrooms you had just gathered together, you think it should be something actually edible, and he relents if only because you compromise to add some non-poisonous mushrooms into a stew for dinner. The night ends with your intertwined bodies in the sleeping bag, Jade peppering kisses all over your face as you giggle and try to squirm out of your constraints (the sleeping bag and his arms).

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Jade."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"I know how to shoot a gun."

—Were the words that spiked your competitiveness with your boyfriend. It wasn't your fault, really, but when that frustratingly pretty face got that smug look that just seemed like it was doubting your abilities, you felt the need to prove yourself. You weren't the brightest bulb in the, ugh, in the string of Christmas lights around the pine tree? But! You prided yourself on your ability to fight. Whether that be with a gun or a knife or just with your bare fists, you'd slammed foes several times bigger and stronger than you to the ground by virtue of pure skill. So to hear Jade questioning one of your rare mastered skills (he would probably argue otherwise) made your blood boil.

So. Shooting range.

You know he's experienced with guns, but you're pretty sure a sniper rifle is new even for him. You help him assemble it and get into proper position.

"My, how scandalous, my darling instructor. In broad daylight too?"

You grimace at his words.

"I'm just trying to get you into the right position!"

"Oh? And what position would be to your preference?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I feel like I've asked you the same question before too—"

"Jade, there are people—"

"—Did you say missionary or—"

"Oh my fucking gods."

"—Perhaps you said you preferred riding?"

You glare harshly at your boyfriend who was giving you the sweetest smile you'd ever seen on his cute face (no doubt to spite you), and you look around frantically in search of other people. Thankfully you're alone. But it doesn't stop you from repeatedly (softly) hitting his shoulder while he laughed at your expressions, sharp teeth showing. You poke a finger to the corner of his lips, which he quickly nibbles on. "What are you, a dog?" He pulls away just to lean back in and kiss your lips.

"Arf~"

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Your phone rings in the dead of night. Jade groans and pats you awake to answer, and you console him with a kiss before looking at the contact.

It says 'That Guy'.

Jade murmurs out a question while you hurriedly leave the bed to put on a robe. "I just need to take this call, baby. I'll be right back." You answer the phone out of earshot, leaning against the railing of the balcony. A familiar voice travels through your phone and right to your heart. It stirs memories and realizations you're not quite ready to face again; the biting chill of the wind feels similar to the worry gnawing at you. "Agent L/N."

"...Reporting, sir."

It's still muscle memory, the response and the subconscious salute. 

(Is it still muscle memory to defend yourself against Jade, the way you were taught to?)

"How is your mission?"

You bite back the urge to say 'What mission?'. Ahhh Y/N L/N you're just so stupid, aren't you? First ever mission, your first big responsibility, your first big chance to be someone worth something. You look back at the bedroom and catch a glimpse of Jade's shadow on the bed. You were supposed to worm out information but gods, you've never even tried. It's like every single time he's with you your brain starts to melt into a hot pink sludge. "I'm working on it, sir." You lie because there's nothing else you can do. Where can you run when Jade finds out you were only using him? Where can you run when the Interpol thinks of you as a dead man because they believe you've betrayed them?

Where can you go when everything comes crashing down?

"It's only to be expected, such a man should be awfully guarded even against his own. Keep up the good work and remember to report back when you find anything."

Hah. Jade was barely ever guarded against you, if at all. You could've tapped his electronics at any time or tracked every car he owns. You just...never did. And the realization forces you to redraw your lines. You know exactly where your loyalty lies, don't you? You end the call and look at the lights in the distance; the city is never asleep. It's bursting with neon signs and traffic lights, but the noise doesn't reach the safe haven that's Jade's little villa. Start to make plans. Rethink it all over. You walk back into the bedroom and further, to the guest room you'd never once used but has way too much of your things in. In a suitcase pocket that's invisible to the naked eye, you pick up a packet of tiny buttons.

You hope Jade won't miss you too much in bed when you make a trip to the garage.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

"Happy birthday, Jade!"

"Happy birthday, Floyd."

There's blood in the air, early morning in November. Jade looks up from his newspaper at his brother who was happily dragging a limp body into his pristine living room, sack over its head. "Oh dear, I hope you've called for cleanup. I have a date later today and I would rather not have Y/N turned off the moment I open the front door." He frowns slightly and puts the newspaper down. With careful steps, he approaches the unconscious person and yanks the sack off its face. "Is this your birthday present for me, brother?"

"Yep!"

"Well," Jade smirks, kicking the head awake. "I appreciate the effort."

"Make sure to pay me back, 'kay~?"

"Of course."

The young woman stirs awake, but his eardrums are saved by the duct tape that Floyd had slapped over her mouth. She looked around in a panic and struggled against the ropes binding her wrists and ankles together. "Hello there, Agent Assyra. You're my darling Y/N's favorite sparring partner, aren't you?" Jade whispers softly with a polite smile. A hand gently caresses her hair while she squirms. "I think you'll be good entertainment for me today. Oh, Floyd must have exerted quite a bit of effort bringing you to me, I ought to meet his expectations."

"Damn right." Floyd whines as he collapses on the sofa. "That bitch put up a fucking fight. 'M still sore from her kicking, she just had to do it in stilettos, didn't she?"

"I can imagine. Floyd, pass me the box under the cushion."

Floyd hands him a small box with his favorite set of scalpels inside it. 

"Let's see, it's quite unhygienic to do it in the living room, but I don't plan to let you live too long anyway. I suppose Y/N and I will just have to settle for a hotel room tonight." He hums a merry little tune as he made small incisions in her skin, the blade easily digging through the flesh. "You must have a tracker somewhere in your bloodstream, let's find it, shall we? Oh, I've always wanted to dissect an Interpol agent."

"Why didn't you dissect your Y/N?"

"That's not very funny, Floyd." Jade chuckles. He cuts a line down her arm and watches the blood flow down his rug. "I'll have to remember to buy a new rug. Perhaps Y/N can help me shopping~"

"Bah, you're sooo whipped it's gross."

He makes another line on her leg, gently prodding at the layer of skin and looking for the tracker. "I am a man domesticated."

"Happy birthday—um, Jade...?"

He freezes at the front door being suddenly shoved open with a happy-turned-concerned voice, slowly looking at the person by the door. It's you. In a cute sweater with a big box in your hands, hair sprinkled with snow and eyes wide in horrified shock. "Uh oh." He hears Floyd giggle, and the girl under him moves around more to grab your attention. You look at the girl, then at Jade, then at the cake in your hands. Then at the girl again. "Assyra...?" She nods helplessly. He thinks you might run forward to help your fellow agent (who was clearly on the verge of death from severe bloodloss), but the only thing you do is look at the scalpel in Jade's hand, and back to his eyes. You maintain eye contact while you slowly put down your box and leave as if nothing happened.

"Guess you're single again. Sad."

He ignores his brother's words, running to the box you'd left behind.

Inside is a big cake that he assumes is homemade, half chocolate and half strawberry and whipped cream. It looks decent, and he could feel your efforts in the two-colored icing writing out a message on the top.

'Happy Birthday, Jade! Love you lots :D'

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Another pull of the trigger, another lifeless body falling to a heap on the ground. He looks on expressionlessly as Azul glances at him with a raised eyebrow before continuing to talk to the person whose lackey Jade had just killed.

"As you can see, Jade isn't feeling too patient today, so if you could just—"

He shoots another bullet, just barely grazing the man's ear before it enters the wall.

"Okay! I agree, I agree, forty percent, yes!" The man nods and signs the contract before scampering away with his (useless) guards. "While I do like a good deal, is there any explanation for your trigger happy behavior?" Azul looks at him in confusion. Floyd takes the offending firearm from his hand and pushes him to sit down on the armrest of Azul's big fancy chair.

"The little cop ghosted him, and he ain't too happy 'bout it." Floyd explains as he puts the gun on the table.

"They were supposed to run back." Jade finally speaks, brows furrowing. "The timing was off, it was an accident they weren't supposed to see. Their conditioning was incomplete and if their higher-ups catch a whiff of their feelings for me, they'll rewire my pearl back to being their little hound. They need to be back to me, and fast."

"Sorry, Jade, maybe I shoulda' brought that bitch in another time."

"It's not your fault." He sighs.

"Then? Why haven't you found them yet?"

Jade looks at Azul. "Have I become predictable? Because the men I've sent off, and the camera footage I've been keeping track of—all of them seem completely avoided. It's like they know my move two steps before I do it."

"Perhaps you've truly met your match."

"Or maybe your pearly's trapped at headquarters." Floyd smirks. "Let's go there! Like a field trip, except with guns and bombs."

"Absolutely not."

"Aww, Azul, you're no fun."

Jade leans back against the chair, looking at his phone lockscreen; a picture of the two of you cupping a mushroom with smiles on your faces. He hovers his thumb above your figure. He unlocks the screen to dial your number again. Like the previous one hundred and fifty two times, it only rings endlessly. Frustrated, Jade stands up, pockets his phone, and picks up his gun again. "Don't you have five more people to meet? Get them in." He snaps at Azul, and the man only pushes his glasses up and shrugs. He clicks a button and the door opens. In comes another greasy, balding, middle-aged loser with some eye candy on his arm, trying to look not so desperate.

Jade aims for his forehead.

"Oh dear, Jade's truly in a bad mood right now, Mr. Sanchez. Let's get this over with quickly before his finger slips." Azul drawls with a smirk, pushing the contract forward.

"Sign here, please."

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

"Whoop! On your left, Jaaaaade~"

He clicks his tongue and dodges accordingly, a flying metal bat hurtling through the air. The smoke and gasoline is choking, but the smell of blood could barely even make him flinch at this point. He turns to kick an incoming assailant in the gut, effortlessly catching a handgun thrown his way by his twin. "Jade! Grab the sparklies, okay?" Jade sighs and opens the sack, sweeping the mess of jewelry inside it and sealing it shut. Somehow, Floyd's idea of 'letting loose and forgetting cops that ghost you' was robbing a luxury jewelry store, just the two of them. Sibling bonding time, of sorts. While he normally wouldn't mind, he's been feeling all too ill without your presence.

"Oh pearl, when will you come back to me?"

He sighs listlessly. A shot is fired towards another guard before he goes to pick up a string of pearls and wear it around his neck. Everything just reminds him of you.

"Sirens, haha!"

At Floyd's signal, he lugs the sack over one shoulder and runs with his brother to the armored car they'd yanked from Azul. He hops into the driver's seat while throwing the 'sparklies' onto his brother's lap.

They don't get very far before a barricade of police cars force them to stop.

"That's no fun." Floyd pouts.

"Backup?"

"Nah, it's cool. Let's just spend a while in a jail cell, I wanna see Azul pop a vein, hehe~"

He could almost imagine Azul's reaction to them getting arrested. He shares a look with his twin and they hop out the car in unison, hands in the air and weapons thrown to the ground. His eyes widen when he realizes the person walking towards him with handcuffs was you.

"Jade Leech." You say sternly, tugging at his arms and cuffing his wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."

Someone else takes Floyd in.

You push him to a police car and just before you can walk off, he helplessly whispers to you. Not a cry for help, not a plea, no.

A soft, hopeful, sickly sweet "My love." that makes you stop for one moment. Just one.

Before you continue walking.

He lost the gamble.

And above all else—

He'd lost you.

Teeth

Teeth

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

Floyd's in a separate cell.

He's flattered, honestly. His own cell is so heavily guarded, cameras and guards everywhere, it makes him feel very important. But it's quite boring, only a bed, a sink, and a shoddily covered toilet. He thinks the clothes look horrendous, and he's patiently awaiting his dear boss who would never leave him nor his brother rotting in a maximum security prison for the rest of their lives. But hours pass by and he's getting rather antsy. How long would it take Azul to bust him out?

The lights go out.

He sinks into his little cot and looks out the tiny window. It's barely even dark and they expect him to go to sleep, somehow.

Who sleeps at 7 in the—

Boom!

He sits up with a grin. Seems like it wasn't scheduled after all.

There's the sounds of fighting and gunshots and explosions and screaming. It all quietens eventually, leaving him on the edge of his seat for whichever side came out on top. There's footsteps in the hallway. Blue tinted silvery hair and glasses hiding an annoyed glare—it's Azul. Floyd comes barreling in a second later. "Jade. I didn't expect your depression to be so bad you'd let yourself get arrested." His friend boss unlocks the door and he steps out with a stretch.

"My apologies. I must admit I was rather preoccupied with my loss."

"Then congratulations."

They walk down the halls littered with dead bodies and Azul's men making sure the dead bodies stayed dead.

"Pardon?"

"It was quite difficult getting through the bulletproof gate, much less just finding this hellhole. Top secret, off the grid, heavily guarded and everything."

"Well then, I thank you for your efforts."

They step out of the prison and back to the grounds.

"Yes yes, but they weren't all my efforts you know?"

He sees a familiar silhouette.

"This place is Interpol property, after all."

"Jade!" You run towards him and tackle him into a hug. He can barely believe his eyes, but he hugs you back so tight you start gasping for air.

"Why...?"

You smile. "My name's Y/N L/N, I killed that alias! I graduated from X police academy, but just recently, I leaked confidential information from the international police force to one of the biggest crime groups in the world. It was fun!"

"Fun?"

"Yeah, but now I'm wanted and have nowhere else to stay." You tug on his sleeve. "Stranger, you got an extra bedspace? I just escaped from getting killed by my former mentors and I'm all tuckered out."

He carries you in his arms and kisses you hard.

[neighbourscat]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 , nicholas alexander chavez

MY BOOGIE SHOES, JUST TO BOOGIE WITH YOU.

𓈒  ˙ ꪆৎ   ꣹  ۫  𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . screen actor!nicholas c. X stage actress!black!fem!reader.

+ synopsis. dancing around your new york apartment with your boyfriend, nicholas chavez, after a tiring final show.

+ cw. mature language & suggestive stage dancing … but none, really (: just smiles, dancing, and good music!

+ nali’s notes; i love 70s-80s music soooo much. dreaming of a cold autumn / christmas fic in this tiny nyc apartment. all the short stories that’ll probably come from this nyc apartment, like a little tv show. the neighbours would have their own backstories & cute interactions. omg should i do that???? a nyc apartment series, kind of like friends or martin??? wordcount :: 2.1k+

+ to be played: dancing in the dark, bruce springsteen. || alternative: slow dancing in the dark, joji. + everybody wants to rule the world, tears for fears.

MY BOOGIE SHOES, JUST TO BOOGIE WITH YOU.

he moved his left foot backward in a smooth motion, sliding across the slick, slightly scoffed, pine theatre stage. two blue overhead spotlights had shone down onto him, highlighting and allowing the golden sequins along his black-costume pants to sparkle and glimmer. the sharp, metal heels of his four-taps no longer producing sound . .. . the active trumpet-players, acoustic guitarists, and drummers eased and eased their instruments into a low twinkle —

— the audience knew what time it was. another character was about to be introduced. in the orchestra pit, the conductor quickly switched her attention to the violinists and flute-players, baton up in the air and readied for the new entrance. the elder english woman gave the group a small cue, flicking her wrist in beat: 1, 2, 3, 4. and as the violins, violas and cellos came in quiet and steady . .. . the male dancer at the far end of the stage reached up and slowly removed the costume fedora from his neatly styled hair, staring over to his stage left.

your beautiful, brilliant and glittery gold mary-jane style tap shoes clicked as you gracefully entered from stage left — the gold fringes of your body-con mini dress flapped and swung every which way as you rolled your costume glove over your right hand, the music coming from the violins and flute-players transforming into something hot and seductive.

your glove snug — the trumpets have returned, this time with the trombones and horns, easy and gentle — with what looked to be absolutely effortless, your body control impeccable, you swayed toward your dance partner. and once as close as rehearsed, you slid your left foot backward; lining yourself up with your partner, you raised your arms neatly, fingers almost wiggling.

your partner snaked an arm around your waist, his opposite hand sensually caressing the under side of your arm — his fingers tightened on your ribs. you felt his plump lips brush against the soft skin of your neck, you don’t hold back a mini smile. and after a thirty-second sleek, clean sequence of sneaky smirks, lustful eyes, gyrating hips, and chasing each other’s feet with mirroring steps on beat — you and your partner stand center stage; he had just spun you out and away and reeled you back in, unable to give you up. you’re overlooking the hungry crowd, toe to toe, hips pressed into each other’s . .. .

the conductor slowly lifted her baton, the orchestra picking up their pace just a bit . .. . more dancers began to take the stage, ten men on one end and ten women on the other, all styled to absolute perfection — you ripped away from your partner, his hand lingering in the air as you hurry toward the women. you strike a pose and the women behind you follow suite, just as clean and precise. the men chuckle amongst themselves, lips moving but nothing being said. your partner took his place in front of the men, eyeing you down.

the blue spotlights went out and back in on beat; this time colored red. the percussion picking up intensity . .. . the atmosphere no longer showcasing love and attraction, but lust and obsession — the red spotlights darkened and blinked in and out powerfully, percussion played fast and with high energy, the string and horn instruments carried out in unison, background voices sounding . .. .

nicholas chavez, anxiously chewing at the skin of his fingers, watched as the other casted dancers performed with everything they had — his eyes working even harder to follow you around. he stopped chewing at his skin then, trying to focus his eyes on you; he couldn’t do the two at the same time. different variations of gold leotards and ruffled dresses and flown pantsuits, the maracas, xylophone — so much was happening at once. portraying chaos perfectly.

every time he found you, he had lost you just as quick. nicholas shifted in the cushioned chair a bit, mindful of the young woman sitting behind him — the saxophones and trumpets intensified, the gold-clad dancers continued shuffling and leaping up and down and around the large pine stage, metal heels touching down with the beats.

the entire stage was bathed in deep, sultry red light, casting long, dramatic shadows over each dancer — the red hue seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the music, bodies moved with precision and purpose, every step choreographed to build toward the crescendo of the performance. the audience watched in awe — nicholas’ eyes never leaving your amazing form — the dancers' figures sharp and striking against the glowing backdrop.

each dancer’s silhouette was satiny, their limbs cutting through the air like blades as they glided to their spots. and as the music swelled, the dancers reached their final positions, holding their forms in an intense, powerful tableau. their bodies arched and poised, chins tilted upwards with defiance, hands spread in graceful curves or clutched at their hips in dominance. the red light drenching them, casting their figures into stark, dramatic silhouettes — elegant and imposing, yet full of tension.

their shadows stretched behind them, larger-than-life, as if their presence demanded more than the stage could contain. the audience held its breath, the stillness of the final pose amplifying the raw energy. it was a picture of controlled power, desire, and neat mess.

the world beyond the stage faded, and all that was left were the figures frozen in that moment — red and black, light and shadow — a vision of drama and allure, like something out of a fevered dream. then, as the final note lingered in the air, the curtain slowly began to close up.

you were curled up on the couch, still basking in the soft afterglow of the evening. your legs draped over nicholas’ lap, the warmth from his hand gently tracing heart-shape patterns on your ankle. the exhaustion from your final show was settling in, but being home with him — no more hotels, no more cast gatherings, no more living through an intense schedule; eight shows a week — felt like the perfect ending to an overwhelming night.

nicholas shifted beneath you, the faintest grin pulling at his lips. “you know .. .” he hummed casually, “.. . i’ve been thinking.” that was never good. you respond with a low groan, rubbing your tired eyes, “no. i’m not doin’ it.”

“can i-i’ve gotta get it out first before you tell me ‘no’,” he said, nudging your arm. “i don’t want a lot or anything .. y’know, crazy. i just want your help.”

you stopped rubbing your eyes, dropping your hand down into your lap. you gave a look that said: ‘go on’ and he did, giving your ankle a loving squeeze: “i want you to teach me how to dance.” he sounded serious, but you couldn’t exactly tell. you blinked, face and gaze blank and revealing nothing. you turned back to the television, an early episode of glee rolling.

nicholas stood up then, gently moving your legs off of his lap. he reached out his hand toward you. you had performed so beautifully with your dance partner, nicholas wanted to move with you the same. “nicholas .. .” you stared at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, “sit back down. seriously.”

“come’on.” his brown eyes soft but determined. “just a little bit. five minutes, hmm?” he was hopeful, still waiting for you. “i’ll take anything. anythin’ i can get, okay? i’ll be grateful for whatever.” you shook your head as an answer and laid back into the plush cushion, arms crossing over your chest. “nic . .. . you can’t dance,” you said in a simple, matter-of-fact voice — not trying to be harsh or mean, and nicholas didn’t take it as such.

he knew he couldn’t. “well, baby, that’s why i’m asking you to teach me.” you looked to his big hand; he made a gentle grabby motion twice, urging you — and back up your eyes went. “i can’t teach rhythm.” nicholas dropped his hand with a hoarse grumble. you sighed, feeling your body protesting the idea of getting up, but the way nicholas was still looking down at you, with that mix of earnestness and affection, made you give in. with a groan, you held out your hand — nicholas smiled wide and pulled you to your feet.

“five minutes.”

“all i need,” nicholas confirmed with a silly smile, dragging you over to the other side of the couch. your shared apartment wasn’t spacious, for no apartment was this side of queens, new york. your deep-grey tabby cat, ruby; the world’s most mischievous kitty, climbed back in through the open window and landed on her feet, gracefully. after an afternoon of racing up and down the fire-escape and most of the block ( ruby, though mischievous, was a friendly animal ), she was ready to be in her bed.

her bed; nicholas’ pillow.

“okay, so what’s first?” nicholas clapped his hands together, anticipating the next five minutes. “music,” you said, reaching down for your phone in between the couch cushions. “oh, how about from your show? i really love the gold one, what’s that song’s name?” he went over and picked up the musical’s playbill, flipping through the first couple of pages, “that song .. when you come out for the first time and look hot?” you almost laugh, unlocking your phone and scrolling through your music. “i’m not teachin’ you that, nic.”

“look, baby, if you’re worried about there not being enough room, let’s not worry, we can move this couch around some .. . throw the cat back outside-“ you stopped him right there, “or you can get out?” nicholas laughed at that, apologizing softly, coming up behind you. his hands found your waist and his chin dug into the skin of your shoulder, watching as your finger scrolled and scrolled. your finger touched down then, the bluetooth speaker in the corner coming to life immediately.

it started off as slow, lazy dancing in the living room to random musical theatre soundtracks . .. . the moonlight streaming through the large open windows, casting cool white rays over the hardwood floors — but quickly turned into a party.

you slid in from the hall opening, wearing oversized socks, loose basketball shorts, and a baggy football jersey; from nicholas’ side of the closet, your body rocking to the rhythm. you’re holding a wooden spoon, it’s your imaginary microphone, dramatically lip-syncing to bruce springsteen’s dancing in the dark, your expression playful and exaggerated.

nicholas was in the kitchen, a spatula in his hands and dragging his fingers along the handle as if it were an electric guitar, wearing a goofy grin. he’s wearing fuzzy socks, slipping across the floor, attempting to match your moves, his brown hair messy, his shirt half-tucked — this impromptu dance-off felt as though it had been going on for hours. nicholas moved to you, your energy completely in sync, lost in the fun of the moment.

you twirled away, laughing as you swung around the kitchen island, your socks giving you just the right amount of glide across the floor. you threw a hand up, pointing at nicholas like a pop star mid-performance, mouthing bruce springsteen’s lyrics. nicholas laughed, feigning a swoon, then slid back toward you, pulling you into a silly two-step.

and now you’re in the hallway again, where you’re at his side, arm wrapped around him, shuffling in time with the beat. you and nicholas sing together now, the music barely audible over your screaming voices, off-key but full of love.

you pushed nicholas away with a playful shove — he stumbled dramatically and recovered in seconds, lip-syncing passionately. as passionate as before. maybe even more so.

you end up in the living room, this time nicholas was spinning you around — as you twirl and spin with your boyfriend, the music grew louder. your body moved with his perfectly, not with precision or control, but with the kind of ease that comes from knowing each other so well. nicholas pulled you in close, your face just inches from his . .. . he’s grinning down at you like a kid, heart racing and thrashing cutely.

bruce springsteen faded smoothly into tears for fears — nicholas started his air guitar again and you bounced toward the kitchen, grabbing your wooden spoon again. braids flipped over one shoulder, you lifted yourself up onto the island in time for the first verse of everybody wants to rule the world. swinging your dangling feet and rocking your head side to side to the drums, you sang into the spoon.

and by the instrumental break, you and nicholas are skating through the hall, singing and dancing with reckless abandon, whirling and dipping, in your own little world. you’re breathless, your face flushed with laughter — watching nicholas overdo the solo guitar outro from where you sat on the couch’s armrest. he dropped onto his knees and rolled onto his back, his feet kicking into the air.

and as the strumming died, you collapsed back onto the couch in a heap, panting and drinking from nicholas’ cold bottle of pepsi. you and nicholas both jumped up startled hearing the grating pound of fists at the front door — ruby sprung from where she laid and ran around hysterically, you and nicholas scrambled to get up; you rushed behind the couch to quickly turn the blasting speaker down and he went to the front door. nicholas was squinting through the peephole, “fuck-it’s minnie .. .” ms. minnie from two doors down hated loud noises.

but she hated the young people scattered along the fourth floor even more.

[dorabellingham]

Play with me

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when he is super bored and wants you to play football with him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The day was lazy in Madrid. Jude had finished all his tasks for the day early, and was now lying on the couch, swinging his feet as he flipped through the TV channels without really watching anything. You were sitting next to him, engrossed in a book, but you noticed your boyfriend's restlessness.

—You look like a kid on vacation who doesn't know what to do.

You commented, not taking your eyes off the pages.

—That's because I am, babe. —He replied, throwing his head back dramatically. —I need to do something! Play football, run, I don't know... anything that doesn't involve standing still.

You gave a short laugh and looked up at him.

—Darling, it's Sunday. No one wants to go out to practice or play with you right now. Rest.

But Jude didn't seem willing to accept the suggestion. He looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

—You can play with me.

He said, already getting up from the couch.

—What? Me? Play with you?

You closed the book and looked at him as if he had just suggested you fly a plane.

—Why not? It’ll be fun.

He replied, already pulling you by the hand.

—Jude, I’m terrible at sports. Besides, I don’t even have the clothes for it.

You protested, trying to resist.

Jude stopped, thought for a moment, and then gave you a smile that you recognized all too well —he was up to something.

—You don’t need any specific clothes. You can wear one of mine.

He left toward the bedroom before you could answer.

—Jude! No!

You shouted after him, but he was already out of sight.

A few minutes later, Jude returned with an old Borussia Dortmund uniform in his hands. The shirt was yellow with black details and clearly a few sizes bigger than yours.

—Here. It’ll fit you perfectly.

He said, handing you the uniform.

You held the fabric in your hands, shaking your head in disbelief.

—Are you serious? I don't even know if this will fit right.

—Of course it will. You'll be the most stylish player to ever step foot in our backyard.

He winked at you, picking up a ball that was leaning against the corner of the room.

Resigned and curious, you went to change. When you came back, wearing Jude's uniform, he started laughing out loud. The shirt fell like a dress, and the shorts seemed to almost disappear under the fabric of the shirt.

—I look ridiculous, Jude Victor!

You exclaimed, crossing your arms.

—You look perfect, sweetie. Let's go.

He replied, pulling you out of the house.

In the backyard, Jude placed the ball on the ground and began to explain the "rules" of the game.

—It's simple. I try to score the goal, and you defend. If I manage to score three times, you owe me a massage. If you manage to stop at least two goals, I'll make dinner.

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

—You're very confident for someone who knows I've never played in my life.

—I'm just trying to make this more interesting. Come on, Y/n. Show me what you've got.

He said, giving the ball a few touches and kicking it lightly in your direction.

You tried to catch the ball, but missed miserably. Jude burst out laughing.

—Okay, that was just the warm-up. Now go!

He encouraged.

You tried again, this time running to intercept his kick. Jude slowed down his strength and speed, giving you a chance to reach the ball. When you finally managed to kick it away, you celebrated like you had won a championship.

—That's it! Suck it, Bellingham!

You shouted, jumping up and down excitedly.

—Calm down, babe, the game isn't even over yet.

Jude said, laughing at your excitement.

You continued playing, with Jude clearly taking it easy and enjoying your expressions and comments more than the game itself. At one point, you tried to dribble the ball from him and ended up tripping over your own feet, falling on the grass. Jude ran to help you up, laughing.

—Are you okay, ace?

He asked, still holding back his laughter.

—Don’t underestimate me.

You replied, standing up and pushing him playfully.

After about half an hour, you were out of breath, but laughing nonstop. Jude, on the other hand, seemed like his usual self: full of energy and ready for more.

—I think I’ve had enough. I can’t do it anymore, honey.

You said, throwing yourself on the grass.

Jude sat next to you, looking up at the sky.

—It was fun, right? I knew you’d like it.

He said, smiling.

—It was. But I’m still terrible at it.

You admitted, laughing.

He leaned in to kiss you on the forehead.

—You were amazing, Y/n. Really. Best teammate I could ever have.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

—You're just saying that because you want the massage.

—Maybe.

He replied, laughing.

And so, the two of you stayed there, enjoying the simple and happy moment together, as the sun began to set over Madrid.

[kokushibosbestie]

ok so idk if u do like x reader stuff but if you do, can u do like a Sally face fic or headcannons with Sal and Larry. I wanted to request what it would be like for them to have like a very busy s/o. Like I do marching band and outside of school I do volleyball and lessons for trombone and piano. Along with that I take AP classes and student council which give me more work to do so I feel pretty drained by the end of the day

♡~ Sal and Larry w/ busy S/O HCs ~♡

A/N: Yes, I take requests and do (Character) x reader headcannons! AND I'M SO SORRY IF THIS WASN'T GOOD AND I KNOW LARRY'S PART ISN'T LONG I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME ANON. ALSO IM SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG, I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND I HAD WRITERS BLOCK FOR LIKE 3 WEEKS 😭🙏

Warnings: None, just pure fluffiness and love. GN!reader.

-------------------------

♪ Sal Fisher ♪

· HE'S JUST A FKN SWEETHEART 😭😭 · I will say that he is going to make sure to make your life easier no matter what · like doing chores, helping you with projects and assignments, and planning out your week · I don't think many realize this, but he is not the "badass player" people portray him as. 😔 · So, he will make you sit down with him on the weekend and ask how things are going. · And this is with everything. Work, school, family life, your relationship with him, your mental health, etc. · He is serious about it too. 😅 He cares a lot and he doesn't like to see you stressed. · So when you come home tired and worn out, he will not be happy. · he knows it's not your fault and you can't help it "Love, please stop doing this to yourself. You know this isn't good." · Like I said, he loves you 🥰 · istg this man HAS and WILL beg you to take a break · so when you come home, he'll already have a bath ready for you · once you're done taking a bath, he'll make you sit down on the floor in front of the couch so he can brush / comb your hair · and I honestly think he's not the best cook, but he will cook your favorite food no he won't, it's going to be takeout because he failed · your room is already cleaned and he bought you squishmellows to add to your collection · he'll cuddle you to sleep while playing with your hair · definitely the big spoon on nights like this "Relax baby, you need to get sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?"

-------------------------

☆ Larry Johnson ☆

· I'ma be fr with you, he would NOT notice at first · Not until Ashley said something but after she brings it to his attention that you need a little bit more attention, he will do exactly that · and istg, he WILL pick you up bridal style and carry you away from whatever you were doing 👀 · If you protest, he will glare at you and ignore it. · Any kind of work you do is "overworking yourself" to him · so beware · Imma be completely honest, this man CANNOT keep up with you · Your ship dynamic is literally "busy mastermind and their assistant who worships them but can't keep up." 😭💞 · larry is the one worshiping you "Look, I know you have a lot going on, so don't try to convince me that you aren't. I might be stupid in school but I'm not stupid with you." · he will say shit that doesn't make sense WHATSOEVER. 😔 · Ofc, he won't admit that he's trying to take care of you · or keep up with you · obvi 🙄 · I have my own hc that he actually does know how to cook nicely, so I think he'd make you food you'd watch a movie together and talk · once your social battery is completely out, he'll offer you to sleep on his chest. 🥰 · and when you wake up, he's gunna make you breakfast. "Don't try to keep yourself up babe. You've had a long day, so just rest."

DISCLAIMER: THE HEADER IS MINE, THOUGH THE FANART IS NOT. THE DIVIDERS ARE NOT MINE, ONCE AGAIN, THEY ARE NOT MINE. ALL CREDITS GO TO ORIGINAL POSTERS / CREATORS!!! ALL WRITING BELONGS TO ME!!!