#The only bad thing about his new gear

[zylphiacrowley]

I'm not sure about the canon implications of it, but I really like the idea that after he quit his job, Erenville started wearing clothing from his home again. I'm not sure if the area right next to Tesh'pyani village was always called The Thunderyards, or if it became called that after the merge of Yyasulani and Alexandria, but since the gear he's wearing is a custom(?) version of the Thunderyards gathering set (plus the MNR job specific boots) and the design of the clothing doesn't look like it fits with the Alexandrian sense of style, I can only assume that it's of Yyasulani design.

I'm doing a really bad job of saying that I think it's neat that the gear he's wearing now that he gets the choice of what to wear is something that probably reminds him of his home and all the people from it. Don't get me wrong I really love the gleaner gear as well, and he looks good in that, but I like that his new gear (in my mind at least) seems much more personal to him as a character.

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[ivyues]

Laptop Delivery - Bang Chan

Practice got a little more eventful thanks to an forgotten laptop.

It was a peaceful morning. Fresh from your shower, you padded into your kitchen, planning to grab a quick breakfast before heading to uni. But something on the counter stopped you in your tracks – Chris' laptop.  

Your heart sank. He’d stayed over last night but had to leave early for dance practice. The sight of his laptop sitting on the counter screamed trouble. Normally, he wouldn’t bring it over – it was too precious, filled with tracks, demos, and other vital material for the group. You knew his schedule was packed, and forgetting something this important could only mean bad news.

You snapped a picture of it and sent it to him with the caption:

"Forgot something?"

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought that it might be much more important. Without hesitation, you called him, even though you knew he was at practice.  

After a few rings, he picked up, slightly breathless. "Hey, baby. I’m… kinda at practice right now – what’s up?"  

"Did you leave your laptop here on purpose?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.  

"What?" His voice was sharp with confusion. "No, I thought I— wait, let me check the picture you send me."  

A muffled curse followed as realization hit. "Oh shit, no. I’ve got a meeting with some producers right after practice. I can’t believe I left it there." His tone was laced with stress.  

Chris hesitated. "I—" he started, then stopped himself. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He was probably considering rushing back to your place after practice, which would make him late for the meeting. Worse, you wouldn’t even be there to open the door since you'd already be at uni by then.

"I… could… bring it to you," you offered cautiously, knowing what value the device had to the group.  

"Really? Would that be possible?" His voice softened, a mixture of relief and guilt.  

"Yeah, but I’d have to leave now. I still have uni today," you said, already moving to grab your things.  

"Ah, that's amazing. You're an angel," he said warmly. "I’ll text you the room number."  

Skipping breakfast, you grabbed his laptop and headed out. On the way, you planned to stop by a bakery for something quick after the delivery, before heading straight to class.  

-----

At the JYP building, you knocked lightly on the practice room door, despite Chris’ text saying you could walk right in. The door opened to reveal Felix, his face lighting up with a grin.  

"Hey!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug.  

"Hi, Lix," you replied with a small smile. From across the room, Chris’ head shot up, his eyes locking on you. Relief and affection softened his expression as he quickly made his way towards you.  

"Hey," he murmured, stopping just in front of you.  

"Hi," you replied, reaching into your bag to pull out his laptop. As soon as the sleek silver device emerged, the room fell silent.  

The members froze, eyes wide. It wasn’t just a laptop to them; they knew what was inside – tracks, demos, lyrics, everything. The fact that you were holding it was proof of something bigger: the trust Chris had in you.

But before anyone could speak, Chris gently pulled you into the room, his fingers brushing your cheeks as he softly pulled your mask down.  

And then, he kissed you.  

It was natural, familia – something the two of you had done countless times before. But here, in the quiet practice room, with – unbeknownst to you – all eyes on you, it felt different. His lips were warm and soft, a silent expression of gratitude and love.  

The members didn’t move, still processing what they were seeing. None of them had expected this. Sure, they knew how much Chris cared about you, but seeing it displayed so openly caught them off guard.  

When he finally pulled back, his ears burned red, and he muttered a sheepish "I’ll call you later, okay? Thanks again", as he took the laptop from your hands.  

You, cheeks blazing, barely managed a nod as you stepped back. The silence lingered for a beat longer before you mumbled, "Y-yeah. Bye, everyone."

You turned and left, closing the door behind you.  

The moment the door clicked shut, chaos erupted.  

"YAH, HYUNG!"  

"I can't believe you just did that!"

"PDA MUCH?!”

"Channie hyung, what was that?!"

"Wow, so smooth. Too bad your ears give you away."  

Outside, you heard the screaming teasing very clearly and couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks still burning as you walked down the hallway. Chris could handle the teasing – he brought it upon himself after all.  

masterlist

[wheres-mylove]

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly. 

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore. 

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised. 

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom. 

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

[kurooh]

EMBARRASSING SEX MOMENTS. [BNHA]

☆ includes: aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōtō, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, takami keigo, amajiki tamaki.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, f! reader, crack & cringe.

— izuku is always curious to try new things, and that curiosity is how you ended up fingering his ass while he was on all fours. apparently he had read online that the doggystyle position would help you hit his g-spot. you had helped izuku prep his ass before all of this, and somehow 2 hours of prep wasn’t enough. he was moaning and enjoying it, but unbeknownst to you, he had to fart a little. he assumed it would be harmless, and small. so he trusted it, and ripped ass HARD. the sheer force pushed your fingers out, along with a stream of shit that shot onto your hands. he was so embarrassed :(

— katsuki is an aggressive ass slapper; you ask for some spanking and he makes sure your asscheeks burn by the end of it. sometimes he adds little tiny explosions, which feels good. you like it, especially when he smacks your ass while you ride him. one night, you were riding his cock hard, and he was loud and really into it. “slap my ass, katsu,” you moaned desperately, and he grunted out some sort of understanding. he was gearing up for a hard slap - he couldn’t help it, the feeling of you bouncing up and down on him was deserving of a good one. his palm sparked ever so slightly, and he swung his hand with a ton of force towards your ass but had miscalculated because your ass was moving up, not down. he smacked his balls full force, and made tiny explosions which only added to the pain. you’ve never heard that boy scream until that night. he actually got up and excused himself to grab some water and wiped some tears away. katsuki is very ashamed and gets pissy whenever you bring it up.

— shōtō loves it when you take control. like he always cums so fast when you ride him, and it’s definitely one of his most favorite positions. so, not long after you had both installed a new and beautiful wooden headboard and bed frame, you were on the bed riding him like seabiscuit. he started to grab at your ass, his back arching and his eyes tearing. “oh, i’m gonna cum, please come with me, love.” you nodded, body shaking, but you weren’t sure if you had enough energy left to cum with him since you were a bit tired. before you could register what was happening, he had grabbed onto your hips and started fucking up into you, hard. you gasped, inhaling and choking on your spit, and after one particularly rough thrust, your body jolted forwards and your head rammed into the new headboard.

— as eijirou fingered you and licked your clit, you took his cock deep into your throat, bouncing your ass onto his face for maximum pleasure. he used his free hand to push your head downwards into his crotch more, trying to signal that he was really enjoying the blowjob. he started sucking your clit, and you thought it would be a nice idea to play with his balls. you began to lick and kiss them, but his dick and balls are very sensitive; his legs started to twitch and his knees tried to close but he still didn’t stop sucking your clit. you took this as a positive reaction and started to suck on his balls, maybe a little bit too hard… eiji thrashed under you and bit down on your clit with a muffled shriek. you screamed into his balls and bit them hard. in the end, the both of you held ice packs to your crotches and hoped that the neighbors would not ask about the loud screaming at 2 am.

— denki was pounding you hard in a mating press, moaning loudly and getting really into it. after 3 minutes of fucking, he came inside you and FARTED loudly at the same time. he was extra noisy when he came so maybe the fart added to the pleasure?? but it stunk so bad that you started gagging and pushing away from him while he could barely move from how hard he’d cum. he might’ve shit the bed.

— you and keigo drunkenly stumbled back into your shared apartment after a night flight across the city. you were both incredibly horny, and immediately got on the bed together the second you got into the bedroom. you yanked off your own clothes and his shirt, pushed him down, and straddled his lap. you kissed him, gently biting at his lips and tongue, drawing loud moans from him. you kissed his jawline, his neck, occasionally sucking at the soft skin. “dove,” his voice shook, “i need you so bad.” “mhm,” you mumbled, your whole body close to overheating from the liquor and the heat of the situation. everything was perfect until you began kissing his chest. out of nowhere you were overwhelmed by the liquor, the vodka shots you took kicking the fuck in. you licked his nipples, whining as you moved to give attention to the rest of his pec muscles. you bit down into his skin, sucking hard, almost completely lost in your own world. then you heard shouts of pain and tasted iron. you let go of his skin, ready to apologize, but keigo was so worked up his wings had begun to buffet, and the feathers smacked you right in the face, hard enough to throw you off the bed. you started crying a little because you felt bad for biting as hard as you did, and because your head smacked into the wall during your journey to the floor. he started to cry too, from the pain and because he had thrown you off the bed accidentally. the both of you decided not to have sex that night, and showered together and then went to bed. he has a scar on his tit now.

— tamaki has had many embarrassing moments with you, with the worst occurring in the beginning of the relationship, and then later on. when you’d first had sex together, you weren’t on the pill so you seductively told him you would put the condom on his dick. you tore it open with your teeth to impress him (it worked), and then grabbed his base just right, and began rolling the condom down his cock. he came, and the condom wasn’t even all the way on. secondly, he was fucking you doggy style, and was really into it. moaning, groaning, all that. tamaki went to slap your ass, but some of the wires in his brain got crossed and he slapped his OWN ASS. he did it hard enough for the sound to stop both of you in your tracks.

[pearwaldorf]

I hate that you can't see a tweet thread anymore if you're not logged into Twitter (as a gesture of disrespect I refuse to call it by its rebranded name). Here is a copypasta of a thread from Dan Olson, a Canadian documentary filmmaker, expanding upon camera quality, the guilt trips Somerton used to goose his Patreon subscriptions, and how the best tools will never make up for lack of dedication or patience. I have added clarifications in [[double brackets]] where I feel it is necessary.

START OF THREAD

Okay, so, back in April I snapped at James in reply to a tweet that was linking to this video (which James has since delisted but not deleted) and I want to talk about the full context of that but I don't want to make a video, put your beatdown memes away. [[The video has since been deleted. I can see the title of the video is "Maybe the end (not an April Fool's Day thing".]]

The first bit of context is that I initially got keyed into James to fact-check his claims about indie filmmaking in Canada. As a filmmaker the entire Telos venture was immediately obvious as a juvenile fantasy dreamed up by someone with no idea how to make a movie.

Just wild claims about their plans that weren't worth debunking because they bordered Not Even Wrong. But in watching one of these pitch videos I noticed that he had a $4000 current-gen camera in the background as a prop, and that seemed both pretentious and weird.

You don't use your best camera as a prop, you use your second best camera as a prop. So being an obsessive weirdo I needed to know, and I watched his BTS stuff until I spotted his main rig, a $6000 camera with about $1000 in accessories.

Now, these in isolation are unremarkable because his Patreon at the time was bringing in ~$8000 per month, his channel was a full on Business business, and so investing in some professional equipment of that level is maybe a bit indulgent but justifiable.

What was weird is that he doesn't shoot multi-cam, doesn't shoot outdoors, doesn't shoot on location, and in a studio the two cameras kinda really step on each others' toes. Basically if you already have one and don't need a B cam there's no reason to get the other.

Again, on its own, this says nothing, it's just indicative of poor financial decisions, maybe impulsive purchasing, Gear Acquisition Syndrome. Biblical sins, but not crimes.

Paired with the constantly inflating fantasy scope of the Telos films it was clearly an expression of a very, very common bad filmmaker habit of "if I just get the right gear then my movie will basically make itself" Buying stuff because it feels like progress.

At the end of February he tweets "I want to start shooting anamorphic" and then three weeks later in March he posts the worst, out of focus, under-exposed "I just got a new lens!" video I've ever seen, showing off his trash-covered bedroom.

Based on what's available for his cameras and the lead time, that's enough time to get a Laowa Nanomorph or Sirui Saturn from B&H but not enough time to get a Great Joy from the UK or a Vazen from China. And with the flaring blah blah blah, $1300 lens.

Again, [gear acquisition syndrome] is not a crime and these lenses are budget options. Bit of a pointless impulse purchase since he only used it for the Showgirls video. But this is what he was doing just a few weeks before that above video came out: effortlessly impulse purchasing lenses.

James has (had?) a habit of regularly, aggressively driving viewers to Patreon by claiming that videos were getting demonetized. While tacky, it is something a lot of queer YouTubers have dealt with, so there's precedent there. But people were noticing he did it a lot.

Mid-March he humble brags about needing to work so hard to make 6 videos in April because he has over-booked sponsorships.

Then March 29th James posts this whole incel screed on Twitter about how sex work should be "subsidized as a mental health service."

[two image descriptions.

1. "For the majority of people sex (and human contact) can be imperative to a healthy state of mind. A kind and talented sex worker can make someone feel wanted for the first time in their life. I know sex workers who have pulled people back from suicide just by being there for them." 2. "Not only should (sex work) be legal, but it should be subsidized as a mental health service."]

He spends several days getting absolutely *roasted* for this, just dragged across the pavement and read for filth, and doubles down in the replies the whole way.

So this is the context immediately surrounding James waking up on Friday, and posts the above video and the below tweet.

[image description: "We just got the lowest Patreon payout we've gotten in well over a year. Like, a "maybe we need to rethink things" kind of amount... NOT an April Fools Day thing btw. But I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer."]

Now, this unfolds in kinda two directions. The first is that I'm convinced he was just lying about this income shock in the first place.

There's a million theoretical edge cases about what maybe happened and if maybe he just misunderstood the data or saw a glitch and panicked, maybe one of those happened, I don't believe it, I think he just lied because he was salty about getting dragged and felt owed a win.

A big tell to me is that he doesn't blame Patreon. He says he doesn't know what happened, but let's be real, Patreon screws up all the time, they're the first people anyone blames if anything confusing happens, just as a reflex action, even if it's completely not their fault.

The only reason to not blame Patreon is if you already know that it's not their fault and that any investigation on their part might reveal embarrassing details.

Instead he indirectly blames his viewers for not watching enough, not sharing enough, and not turning on auto-renew.

So regardless of the unknowable truth, this segues into the second, far more offensive direction of the messaging itself. "I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer." "Maybe the end" He explicitly framed this as an immediate existential threat to his channel.

In the video he is vague about everything, leaves a ton of hazy room for plausible deniability on how long the channel can keep going, but the messaging is "I need more patrons right this minute or my YouTube channel is over."

He repeatedly evokes all the "fun stuff" they had planned that would never see the light of day if this didn't turn around right away.

And his audience received this message loud and clear. Tons of people making far, far, far less than him left very heartfelt messages about digging a little deeper to subscribe or up their pledge or unsubscribe from other channels to move their pledge to his.

1200 new patrons in one day.

Since I simply don't believe the income shock was real in the first place that would put his post-"Maybe the end" Patreon income at around $10,000 per month. US. Add YouTube income, he's spent the last seven months making around $18,000 per month.

I have seen creators scale back their capabilities to the bone purely to keep making videos for the love of just, like, making stuff even as their funding evaporated and they needed to go back to a desk job to cover their bills.

You'd have to be so outstandingly reckless with your finances as a channel that a one month spook leads immediately to "channel over, sorry about all the fun stuff we won't get to do with you, our patrons, specifically because you, our patrons, aren't giving us enough money"

And not a spook where you then spend a couple weeks crunching numbers. Oh no. A shock so violent where less than two hours later you're weeping on camera about the channel being over.

Three weeks later he brought a brand new Sony FX6v for $8000 CAD to add to his pile of cinema cameras despite the fact that he was, but scant moments earlier, in such a precarious position that a single bad month would kill his channel.

He stole your money, and for that I'm profoundly sad and angry. That's why I snapped at him in April. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full context then, and I'm sorry if that anger upset you.

END OF THREAD

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny is desperately running away. Not from a robber, they’re not much of a threat to him anyways, but from a really intense Batman.

“Oh my ancients,” he muttered as he sprinted away from the dude swinging above him. “Can you please go away?! I already paid you back, dude!” Danny raised his voice at the swooping figure above him. He wished he could go ghost, but that would break his cover so fast as a “meta” or whatever.

“Stop running,” Batman landed in front of him, growl reverberating around them.

“Stop chasing me then! It’s bad manners!” And Danny’s from the midwest, so that’s an actual concern.

“How did you find Two-Face?” Batman loomed before stepping back when Danny’s shoulders curled inwards.

“Oh. Is that what this is all about?” Danny huffed. “It was self defense! And… the pun was too good to not, you know? Yeah, no, I had to. Prime opportunity.”

The cowl might hide it but Danny always knew when people are doing that nose pinch of exasperation. It’s a talent he carefully cultivated through shenanigans and puns.

Batman? Definitely inwardly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How did you find him? Harvey Dent is a dangerous criminal.”

“In my defense,” Danny started, like a teenager caught guiltily shoving the entire cookie jar into his room instead of leaving some for the rest of the family. “He found me first. Well, no, he found the kids first. He started it!”

Batman somehow raised an eyebrow. How the hell does he do that?? The cowl covered the entire upper half of his face! Danny squinted at him. Is Batman a meta?

“Listen, I didn’t start it, but my sister sure as heck taught me how to end it. It’s not my fault Dent couldn’t handle a beat down. And I told you I was gonna pay you back for that one (1) Big Dent! If you wanted cash, you should have said so!”

“Hrm.”

Maybe it was the fancy gear. Maybe it was the pointy head thing. Batman reminded Danny way too much of Vlad and he got the ick.

“Okay, well, good talk, bye!” Danny ducked and ran, faster than he had before.

Batman grappled up and forward, trying to grab him. Danny, with years of dodge training under his belt and impeccable teenage instincts of gtfo, managed to dodge Batman’s reaching hands with a hollered “OPE!”

“Bye! See you never!” Danny ducked behind an alley and turned invisible as Batman swooped past.

When he was sure the vigilante was gone, he slowly faded into the visible spectrum.

“Jeez. Better warn Amy about this. Maybe I should hide in Crime Alley until this blows past.”

——

Gotham’s underbelly had a new tale to sling around their bars that week and a new demographic to be wary of.

The Terrors, the kiddie gang that ran perpendicular to Crime alley, was preyed on by Harvey Dent.

“What do you think you’re doing to them?!”

“Ahhhhhh!!!” Harvey screamed, flailing as a creature of shadows and claws- god damn those sharp ass claws- descended upon him, scarring it just one side but both sides of his very vulnerable face!

“Back the hell off of my kids, you fashion reject!”

As for Harvey… well, he’s developed an aversion to the smell of peanut butter and small children.

——

Batman, hunting down Danny because he’s worried about the endangered meta kid: you left me a Dent.

Danny, because he sees a vigilante bum rushing him: I have no cash! That’s the only way I can pay you back rn!

——

Batman, trying to lecture Danny about safety because he’s a worried batdad:

Danny: ew a rich stalker trying to be my dad!

@tricksterwitchkat can you tell I’ve been thinking about your pun for days? This is for you, thank you so much for that pun, it made my entire week.

[cobraaah]

Hello yes,, another seb smut request :] I absolutely LOVEEDD the last fic u wrote and now I require more HGHDHFJF

Mabye like a really steamy makeout session with seb in his shop that ends up going further? But he has two tounges (///.//.///) so it's extra freakyyy,,

Preferably with a side of more degrading and breeding kink,, also, if your up for it,, maybe some oviposition?

Pairing•[Sebastian Solace x hybrid fishy! Gn reader?]

Warnings• 18+ No minors, but I'm not your mom so consume your own content, ovi kink, double tongue, double cock, breath play, breeding kink, blood, wounds?, not prof read

A/N• Okay, so, like, sorry for taking so long on this 😭 I've been so busy!! Anyway, I tried to make it gender neutral as possible. I'm also sorry for how short and bad this is. I really rushed it because I've been procrastinating on this. I also need to organize all my stuff on here as well. Flip. I also don't know why reader is a fish hybrid, I totally forgot what I was gonna do with that

Word count• 1.4K

Heavy pants ringed through your ears as you pushed open hell saving door fifty. Clutching your side blood staining your hand, a giant gash layed on your side. Labored breaths seethed out of your clenched teeth as you gripped onto your side, attempting to apply pressure and because it hurt like hell. With a prayer, the vent up ahead pushed open with a snicker lingering in it. It was your trusted friend, well more of your only friend here, Sebastian. The weird fishy hybrid eel thing. . you didn't really know exactly what DNA was in him, just that he was a weird hybrid thing that sold you items. Nothing more, nothing less.

Crawing through the vent with a hiss due to the new position of having to crawl, tail dragging behind you. Red drops from the gash beneath your hand, leaving a small trail in wake. A small gasp leaving your mouth as you stood up, heaving. Suddenly your vision getting hazy finally came to you, how much blood have you lost? Glancing down to your wound, your whole hand was dripping red. The only noise you could focus on was the soft dripping of the crimson droplets hitting the metal like floor, your ear fins fanned back uncomfortably.

Due to your carelessness and not being careful about the doors you went into, you've waltz into at least one of the "Good People's" doors, maybe a few too close encounters with Angler leaving scratches on you. Everything was too fuzzy to remember, or feel? Looking up you finally notice Sebastians worried facial expression, and when where you sat on top of this table? A uncomfortable groan left you as Sebastian tightly wrapped bandages around your exposed wound. When did he take off my diving gear? Your eyebrows furrowed in glazed confusion, what was even happening? With your vision beginning to fade out, you slumped forward into Sebastians arms opting out on falling back against the hard metal wall.

The uncomfortableness of the cold metal against your bare skin and the stinging pain in your side sturs you awake. Hissing through your teeth you sit up, quickly realizing you arnt in your diving gear instead being in the bare essentials. The coldness was something you never could adjust to properly after being fused with some randome fish DNA the scientists excluded from telling you. Glancing down to your side you realize it's bandaged up, already becoming a light pink colour. A rough "Ahem." brings your attention to infront of you, Sebastian is in his normal spot in the corner. "How are you feeling?" His voice laced with distaste at the fact he even asked that, his eyes are squinted at you analytically.

"I'm. . fine." Your voice comes out warily, feeling uncomfortable under his unwelcoming gaze. A small hum leaves Sebastian in acknowledgement, awkward silence quickly fills in the room. The situation just being unusual between you too, and the fact you were practically half naked infront of him. Truly embarrassing stuff. You wince into yourself at the stinging pain to your side, analyzing your coverd wound once again. "You know. . I could take your mind off the pain. If you wanted." Sebastian voice made you look up once again, this time in confusion. "What. . What do you mean?" Voice laced with unease as his gaze becomes more predatorial like.

With him standing at the end of the table he easily grabs ahold of your ankles, firm hands slowly gliding up your exposed flesh pulling your pelvis flush to his waist. "You know. . just another way for you to repay for my services. Gotta pay for that medkit I used on you anyways, plus you staying in my hideout? A large fee you owe. ." He trails off. His gaze boreing into you as if trying to burn right through you. "Right.." His hands leave goosebumps in wake of his trail, finally firmly resting on your hips. Two tongues simultaneously slip out of his mouth as he leans forward. Your eyes widen slighty at the fact he has two, mouth agap slighty in awe. Sebastian takes this opportunity and connects his mouth with yours.

Two of the silky appendages explore your mouth, wrapping around your tongue. Eyes closing in bliss, hands coming up and wrapping around his neck deepining the kiss. His tongues threaten to go deeper into your throat, teasingly he slithers them further slowly making you let out a choked whimper. One of his hands come up to your throat choking you, starting out softly but quickly roughing it up to barley suffocating squeezing. With air becoming scarce for you, you grip onto the back of his neck hoping he'll get the idea. Your vision quickly begins to blur with no oxygen getting to you. Weakly squirming under him hoping to free yourself.

As your vision begins to fade and your wiggling slows he leans back, letting go of your throat. Taking in a sharp breath, feeling your heart skip a beat as your vision finally regains to its full. Sebastian chuckles as he looks down at you panting, your grip on him tightens as you finally calm down, but that was short lived as you feel two rather big appendages wiggle against your thigh. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as you see he has two cocks instead of one. The one that slithers it's way on the top of your stomach is much bigger and more thicker rather than the one that's under your thigh, it's still pretty big but the bottom is more thicker than the tip.

With a quick thrust of his hips a low groan emmits from him. With two of his hands gripping your midsection and his other grabbing your ankle, hoisting it over his shoulder as he leans in closer to you, mouth connecting once more. His bigger tentacle like cock slithers under your underwear, withoit any prep or warning he quickly juts his hips into you, cock easily slipping inside with how slick you already were. Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the stinging pain of him stretching you out, but after a few more thrusts the pain turned into pleasure. Moaning into the heated kiss, the feeling of his tongue fucking your mouth draws you closer to the edge, the familiar tightening feeling forms in your stomach.

As Sebastian leans back for air he reposting himself so his chest is flush against yours, he grabs the back of your thighs pushing them up. With this new angle he pushes himself impossibly deeper, hitting spots you never knew existed. Your arms tangle around his neck pushing his face into the crook of your neck. His tongues slither out giving a few little licks before harshly biting down, seemingly grounding himself as he does a few more harsh thrusts into the spot making your head feel dizzy. With a final thrust you feel something pushing its way inside you, Sebastians body stiffens with a groan as his jaw slacks against your shoulder. His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as he stills inside you. You whimper at the unfamiliar feeling of being filled up, a intrusion pushing past your cervix. Eyes furrowing in slight discomfort as you cling onto Sebastian, his rough panting, licks, and soft nips against your shoulder distract you from the pain.

He pulls out with a low groan, your stomach has a soft bump from all the eggs he pushed into you. A surprised whimper left your throat as you feel a his other slick tentacle wiggle against your entrance. He easily pushed inside once again, giving a few shallow thrusts before roughly pushing himself all the way. Moaning at the feeling of being impossible full, he ruts into you as he rides through both of your highs. He stays inside of you for a moment, catching his breath. His hand comes up and be runs his fingers through your hair, tips of his nails rubbing against your scalp comfortably. He let's your legs down slowly letting them lay on either side of his waist. His face still nuzzled into your neck as the movements of his hands slowly still until soft breathing can be heard from him. You glance down and realize he fell asleep, exhaustion quickly becomes evident to you as your eyes close with ease and you drift off to sleep holding onto Sebastian.

[hederasgarden]

Like Oil and Water

Summary: Your office power struggle with Scott comes to a head. Paring: Scott (Twisters) x F!Scientist!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Enemies to lovers trope, PIV sex, fingering, and dirty talk. Slight angst.  A/N: The story is based on this ask I received. I know there are like…five Scott fans out there besides me so I hope y’all like this. I have no explanation for this fic except I’m horny for Scott. I had an alternative ending to this story but whoops feelings crept in. Thank you to @ryebecca, @whatblogisthis216 and @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking this over. The snazzy summary is courtesy of @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day. 

David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“I’m never picking up your coffee order again,” Javi swears, handing the Starbucks cup to you. “Whatever happened to coffee with a little bit of cream?”

“Capitalism,” you reply, taking a sip. It wasn’t exactly how you liked it, missing that deep caramel flavor, but you appreciate Javi’s effort. “Thanks again.”

He nods, drinking from his cup as you make your way down to the labs, discussing the results from the latest test. 

“We will need to adjust the relays, but other than that, I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “I’ll let the techs know we need those changes made this week.”

“Sounds good. I gotta make a quick call, but I’ll join you after,” Javi promises, disappearing into his office while you make your way down the hall.

You hear the low timber of Scott's voice before you spot him in conversation with one of the female techs. You loathe to admit it but he looks good, his tanned forearms on display with the sleeves of his white company shirt rolled up. The baseball cap tucked into his back pocket and dusty boots let you know he probably came straight from the field. 

"We need to fix the relays. They failed the test. Again. That's unacceptable," he begins, gearing up for another one of his infamous lectures. "Back when I was at MIT, this type of calibration was the first thing we were taught."

Scott may have been one of the smartest guys on Javi’s team but he was also a smug asshole. From the moment you met him, he irritated you, reminding you of every man who thought he was smarter and better than you just because of his gender. Everyone expected engineers to be difficult to work with, but Scott took it to another level. Who could blame you for taking him down a peg or two when you had the chance?

"So you went to MIT. Big whoop," you begin, delighted to see Scott tense up at the sound of your voice. When he turns to face you, the tech is quick to scurry away. "Call me when you have a PhD from a real school, like Caltech, Scotty."

He hates it when you call him that but today it's your jab about MIT that strikes a nerve. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he exhales harshly. God, that angry look in his eye really did something for you. Too bad his looks couldn’t make up for how much of a dick he could be. 

Scott practically spits your first name out, stepping into your space to loom over you. His broad shoulders and muscular build block your view of the lab. You tilt your head to look at him, fighting the urge to smile. "You really should address me as ‘doctor,’" you calmly remind him, tapping your name badge. 

You arch a brow, waiting for his response but his mouth snaps shut, attention moving to something behind you. 

It’s Javi.

"Come on guys," he sighs. "Play nice."

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly. "I'm always nice.”

"Why are you even in the labs today?" Scott questions, glancing down at your heels. 

You smooth a hand down your dress and smile. "I'm the Vice President of R&D for Storm Par. These are my labs. I belong here.”

"Dressed like that?" He scoffs. 

"What, you don't like it?" You ask, turning in a slow circle. 

"We had a meeting with some new investors," Javi supplies, trying to cut off the start of another fight between the two of you. 

Scott turns away and you can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He still hasn’t forgiven you for talking Javi out of letting his uncle invest in the company. It would have been easy money but you never liked the business plan. It was best to stick with government grants and investors without any personal connections. 

Javi touches your arm. “Come on, we gotta finish that grant.”

You hum in agreement, trailing behind him to the doorway. Pausing, you glance back and catch Scott watching you, his lips pressed into a thin line. With a grin, you wiggle your fingers at him, amused to see the furrow in his brow deepen even further.

The rest of your day is blessedly Scott-free and you spend your time buried in meetings and wading through needlessly complicated grant submissions. Javi employed some of the smartest people you’ve ever had the privilege of working with but they were terrible when it came to making the science digestible to investors. You sigh, rubbing your temples. It was going to be a long night.

You work uninterrupted, buried in the complexities of the grant, until Scott storms into your office, slamming the door behind him. “Did you tell the techs they could go home early?” he demands.

“Please, do come in,” you deadpan, setting aside the papers you’re holding.

“Did you send them home?” He repeats, rounding your desk and invading your personal space. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I did.” You rise to your full height but even in heels, he dwarfs you. 

“That wasn’t your call.”

“You do remember my job title, right?”

“I’m VP of Operations,” he reminds you. “I say when they go home, especially when we’re on a deadline.”

“They report to me, and you’ve had them working long hours,” you fire back.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, as he gives you an unimpressed look. “You’re too soft on them. I told Javi you weren’t right for this job. This isn’t academia. We work hard here.” 

You bristle at his words, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the soft skin of your palm. He has no idea what it took for you to get here, the challenges you faced, or the men like him you had to prove yourself to.

“Go fuck yourself, Scott.” 

You glare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. You wait, ready for whatever asshole comment is sure to come but he just stares at you. Then, to your surprise, his gaze drops to your mouth. You freeze, electricity zipping up your spine when you realize you’re close enough for your chest to brush his as you exhale. Looking back, you won't remember the impulse that led you to tilt your head and press your lips to his, only that you did.

The kiss only lasts a second before you pull away, heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, neither of you moves, but then suddenly he surges forward, his large hand grasping the side of your face. His lips crash into yours roughly. A hand at your hip urges you back until you bump your desk but he doesn’t stop until he’s practically dragged you on top of it. He presses in close, eating up what little space remains. You groan, grasping at his shirt as you push your hips into his. 

“Fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours as his warm breath fans across your face. For one terrible second, you think he might stop or say something stupid to ruin the moment but then he’s kissing you again. He forces a hand between your bodies and roughly pulls your underwear aside so his fingers can drag through your folds. You’d be shocked by how fast it’s all happening but any higher thought fizzles out once his thumb circles your clit and his tongue breaks the seam of your lips to taste you. 

You’re breathless when he pulls away, back arching in response to his talented fingers. Through your lashes you see him smirk down at you. “No smart comebacks now?” He questions.

Before you can retort he adds a second finger. You moan, rolling your hips to seek more of him. “Knew you’d be fucking greedy,” he whispers.

He watches you fuck yourself on his hand with a hungry glint in his eyes until your pace slows. He glanced at your face. You rise up on your elbows, brow raised. “Am I going to do all the work here?” 

“Shut up,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers.

A witty comeback is on the tip of your tongue but it dies when Scott brings his fingers to his mouth. He stares down at you while he sucks them clean, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your stomach clenches hard at the sight. 

“That’s better,” he comments, unbuckling his belt. “Nice and quiet.” 

He takes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on his thick length. If there was ever a time to stop, it’s now. You look at Scott, his dark gaze swimming with desire and push the thought away, rising up to kiss him. The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance and you lift your hips. You relish the way he looks, dark hair curling over his sweaty forehead and his body straining for you. Knowing you’ve done this to him sends a rush of want through you. 

Scott pushes inside slowly, hissing as your wet heat envelopes him until he’s halfway in and then he snaps his hips forward unexpectedly. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. He falls forward and the weight of him is electrifying. You’d be embarrassed at the desperate little sounds his mouth swallows up if he didn’t feel so damn good. 

He fucks with an intense kind of precision you’ve seen him bring to his work, reaching deep inside you to hit all the right places. You bury your fingers in his dark hair and pull, eliciting a needy moan from the irritatingly talented man above you. 

“You gonna come for me?” He asks, breathless. 

A desperate little, please, slips past your lips without your permission, spurring him on. He hooks a hand under your knee and forces your leg into your chest as he keeps up his frantic pace. The new angle takes him even deeper and pleasure ripples through your stomach. He feels unbelievably good and you practically sob when he pulls back and rises to his full height, afraid he’s going to stop. But he doesn’t, grasping your hips with both hands and forcing you to meet his thrusts. 

You’re tantalizing close and, without thinking, you reach down to help yourself along but Scott is quick to slap your hand away, replacing it with his own. 

“That’s mine,” he growls, the rough pad of his thumb catching on the sensitive skin. He watches with rapt attention as his cock and fingers work in tandem to drive you over the edge. You come with his name on your lips. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he gasps. 

Before you can recover your breath, he leans down and kisses you, his weight pressing you into the desk as his hips move relentlessly. Then he shoves himself deep inside and stills, groaning. Your ears ring and your body buzzes with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. The two of you stay like that, intertwined and panting until, finally, Scott moves. 

Cool air rushes between your bodies and you stare up at him. You can see him thinking in real time, his clever gaze searching your face as he continues to process what happened. What could either of you possibly say after this? Nothing good you realize. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.” 

Scott closes his eyes and swallows hard. Then he's moving, slipping out of you with a grunt. He turns away from you, redressing. The clink of his belt buckle is loud in the quiet office. Pressing your fingers to your swollen lips, you take a moment to let yourself feel everything before pushing it aside and standing on unsteady legs.

You fix your appearance the best you can and busy yourself with shuffling the mess of papers strewn everywhere. It might be cowardly, but you keep your gaze fixed on your desk when you hear the door creak open. You wait, the minutes dragging by until you know it’s safe to look up, only to find Scott still there.

He lingers in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you. 

Then you blink and he’s gone. 

♡

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[bunny-jpeg]

grid bunny - a (long) drabble

feat. max verstappen, lando norris, charles leclerc & carlos sainz

(it's dirty filth, i'm sorry!!!!!) 🐇

most grid bunnies know they're grid bunnies, they actively search for drivers to bed. but not you, you got caught up in this for some reason or another.

you joined redbull as a mechanic, you were proud of that title! not many can call themselves that! it was an opportunity to see the world and work on what you loved. the cars. your focus was on the cars, not men driving them.

you thought that the relationship you struck up with max was platonic, the thought didn't even cross your mind that he had any feelings for you. you thought to him you were just another face in the crowd. that was until you both split a bottle of wine and you ended up in his hotel room.

you were face down in bed and let him fuck you. he grumbled under his breath in dutch and liked to hold your head back. the three time champion loved to bite as well, your shoulders looked like a total mess by the time you staggered out of his hotel room. you however didn't get far as before you could get your pants in, the champion had his strong arms around you and pulled back into bed.

max was the kind of fuck that you knew you wouldn't get out of your mind. he liked it rough and dirty, he liked that he could move you into the position he wanted as he rutted up into you. it left you out of breath and hot all over, sweat stuck to the expanse of your back. he said to you in a brief break between rounds, "only the best." before he ran his thumb across your clit which made you grow tense. it only made him chuckle before his lips were on your neck again. "you look good in redbull colours."

you wouldn't end up leaving till morning, at least max bought you breakfast and some tylonel for the back pain. the hickies on the other hand had you zipping your coveralls a little higher to cover your neck fully.

-

lando was a flirt, he was all smiles and determination. you had assumed that word got around that the new little mechanic for red bull was a good fuck. he was in your personal space and made you laugh. he'd continue to make you laugh when his head was between your legs.

the driver didn't even get his racing gear off as he got you up on the couch in the driver's room. his tongue dragged along your pussy and you had to cover your mouth to not cause attention. the last thing you needed was some assistant walking in on lando norris, the second higher driver between your legs. headlines in the making. the gloves he wore were rough against your bare thighs as he sloppy noises he made filled the room. he ate like a man with an insatiable hunger, like he had been yearning to get between the legs of the little mechanic. "you feel so good." he groaned, "they should've hired you to bring a little relief to the grid." he chuckled as he looked up at you, "but i'm pretty sure i'd get just a little jealous if you were shared amongst the grid. bad enough i have to share with verstappen."

you felt flushed all over, so vulnerable under him. it was almost cute, as his tongue grazed your clit and soon his fingers joined the fray. you tried to keep noises down to a minimum. it was bad enough the max had rubbed it in lando's face that he had a grid bunny in his repertoire, you didn't want everyone to know about it.

-

every driver did know about it. which landed you in the arms of charles. he was smiles and sunshine, you took a liking to leo. but it was hard for charles to maintain the conversation when he saw you bent over to look at the dog. when you giggled at the animal's antics, you swayed a little which only enticed the ferrari driver.

he had heard from both max and lando about the mechanic that was scurrying around the paddock. with a pussy soft and tight, and a smile that was infectious. that and she was a easy to bed. charles didn't go after grid bunnies, but you were technically a mechanic, so.... charles however would take the longest to bed you, you thought it was because he was a gentleman.

that was not the case, instead he was trying to figure out how to tie you up in his hotel room as he fucked you. also forget about condoms, you had to scatter to different pharmacies in austin to find plan b.

the way he fucked you, he liked watching your face. he like the faces you made when he hit your sweet spots. it was almost a rivalry between the other two men as he held you face in his hand and maintained eye contact. no shying away from him as he moved his hips against you. "pretty girl." his voice was a low drawl and you felt your heart leap in your chest. his hands played with your breasts and you noticed when he got close, his tongue hung out of his mouth like a panting dog.

you'd never admit how good a cream-pie felt, you didn't want any of the others to know that they could do that. you weren't going bankrupt on emergency contraceptives.

-

if charles knew, then carlos knew. you were starting to get a little worried about it. you managed to get yourself through the top four ranking drivers, two from the same team. you couldn't help but feel a little flustered by it all.

the sex was amazing you weren't going to deny it, each driver had their strengths as a lover. the strength of max, the selflessness or lando and the eagerness of charles. carlos was a whole other beast entirely, he liked his hands in your hair. he liked the yank on it as he fucked you from behind. that wasn't his favourite activity though, he loved when you sucked his cock.

when you sucked his cock, it was warm up. he'd always get a little too excited and end up with you on your hands and knees. because of course, your main draw was your pussy after all! (sadly, not your mechanic skills). he did kiss a lot however, any time he pushed you a little too hard he'd smother you with kisses as he tried to ease his pace. but, it was hard. sometimes he forgot that you joined formula one as a mechanic when he was balls deep inside of you. his cock always nudged a little further than his teammate, which often took the air out of you. he had you by the waist as he moved against you. he'd often whisper praise to you, which only made your pussy wetter. he was diligent about protection which you were thankful for (two nights prior you were wrestling lando trying to get him to wear one). if you could describe sex with carlos it would be fun. even if it exhausted you, and he was just as rough as the other three.

-

maybe these men were egomaniacs who all fucked you as a means of one upping each other. passed between first and fourth. but, jesus were they big suck-ups when the post-nut clarity hit.

lando bought you flowers ("pretty flowers for a pretty girl!"), max snuck you some of the fancier food from the driver's room while you worked on his car ("you have to keep up your strength to help me win"), the lengthy almost romantic text message from charles before you started working "i hope it all goes well today, mon amour! i will be waiting for you at the finish line"), and finally the smothering after-care from carlos ("do you need anything? anything you want, i'll get.")

meanwhile you were around the paddock with a slight limp and rope burns around your wrists and thighs (fuckin' leclerc). but you appreciated it, it made you feel like you were more than just some stress relief for the top drivers. they thought about you, or at least thought enough about you, that these acts of kindness (maybe love) were on their mind.

they did have a habit of trying to one-up another. a race of their own for your affection. meanwhile you just wanted to make sure you weren't going to end up in hr's office. you just came here to fix cars!

-

at the end it felt like you were on a routine for each race with minimal breakaway from it. thursday you were with max, friday you were with lando, saturday with charles and sunday with carlos followed by an evening with who won (or at least got to podium), which often meant limping out of max's room in order to meet the other mechanics for the flight out of whatever country you were in.

you didn't want to think about the wetness in your panties when you sat in the plane seat. the plane would take off and the cycle would repeat.

by the end of the season, you were exhausted. as a christmas present you were gifted a one-way plane ticket to monaco. you looked at it then up at max who had his hand in your hair.

"where else were you going to spend the break?" he asked, not even taking into consideration that maybe you'd go home to your family, "i promise it is very nice this time of year, we want to make sure that you're safe over the break." he cupped you by the cheek and those blue eyes gazed into yours.

the idea of your safety needing to be assured sounded like a half assed attempt to seduce you back to the sunny shores of monte carlo. you wondered for a moment if you even needed to pack clothes.

"come home with us."

you took the ticket and looked at it closer. every excuse died in your throat, there was no way that you were going to weasel your way out of this. you should be happy, most would kill for the attention of one driver, and now you had the lingering gaze of four.

you just had to figure out how to get your hands on better birth control before the holidays started because you could only imagine the damage that was going to be done over the next few months. <3

[eccentricwritingbaby]

please please please

lando norris x famous!reader

summary - with lando’s past track record of women, you get nervous entering this new relationship. it leads you to do the only thing you know how - write a song. based on please please please by sabrina carpenter. 

masterlist

-

I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way

I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

-

“hey baby,” lando greets you as he enters the hotel room, striding in with a kiss to your forehead while giving you a slight hug as he moves towards the bathroom. 

“hi, love,” you response from your place on the bed, “how was media day?”

“eh, boring,” lando shrugs as he begins to gather his things for the shower, “but some of the guys and i are going to go out later, you’re coming right?”

“yeah, i’ll come,” you nod with your response, “are you going to be so drunk i have to carry you home again?” laughing through your question, lando just shakes his head at you as he readies the shower. 

“no no,” he keeps chuckling, “paparazzi will probably be there and my pr team will freak if they get that story again,”

“yeah, well now you have my pr team to worry about too,” you giggle towards him, “and if you’re surrounded by girls and getting hammered-”

“i know, love,” lando heads over to your place on the bed in order to give you a reassuring kiss, “i won’t embarrass you, i love you too much,”

you chase his lips again to receive another kiss before patting his cheek lightly, “please don’t, i know your history,” you warn him with a little laugh. 

“yeah, yeah,” he hops off the bed with an eye roll and a playful shove to you, “you know i wouldn’t do that to you,”

“i know, lan, i know,”

-

All I'm asking, baby

Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right

-

“i just get nervous i guess,” you speak into the phone to your friend, emma, “i mean last night we went out and he was hammered and a bunch of girls were on him after he promised-”

“y/n, y/n, slow down,” she attempts to calm you, “he’s a twenty-four year old millionaire, he’s gonna party you have to get that,” you sigh in realization that she’s right as she continues, “he didn’t and wouldn’t cheat on you, he loves you,”

“i know,” you sigh again.

“where is he now? you should probably talk about this with him,”

“he’s at the track, it’s race day,”

“well then do what you do best,”

“leave him?” you ask with a laugh, thinking about your own track record of ditching relationships when you get scared.

“no,” emma giggles through the phone, “write a song, y/n,”

“oh right,” the giggles escalate between you and your friend right as lando walks through the hotel door, “i gotta go, em, lando just got here,”

“alright, don’t leave him, y/n. he’s good for you, you’ve just got trust issues, and remember that you’re also a twenty-four year old millionaire, you can have fun too,”

“shut up,” you laugh again, hanging up the phone and heading towards your boyfriend, “what are you doing here?” 

“are you not happy to see me, baby?” lando asks as he waltzes towards you, hands landing on your waist to pull you into a kiss.

“mm,” you hum in approval, “always happy to see you, lan,”

“good,” he giggles, separating from you and jogging a bit towards his suitcase, “i forgot this team gear thing i have to wear today, so i had to run back really quick,”

“ah okay,” you nod in understanding.

“are you coming soon?” he asks as he grabs the shirt he was looking for, moving to the door to leave. 

“yes, baby, i’m going to head down in about an hour,”

“okay, i’ll see you there,” he reaches out for a kiss before he leaves as you blush behind him once the door shuts. you can’t help but notice the way he makes you feel, understanding that your nervousness had no real reason to be there. you both were young and successful, and reaping the benefits of that shouldn’t be so bad in the public eye. 

so you take emma’s advice and get out your notepad in order to hopefully release your stress. 

-

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh

Please, please, please 

-

it was three weeks later when you arrived home to your apartment after another studio session. your song had taken about two weeks to write, quickly written due to the words being on a constant replay in your head. all you could think was ‘please please please’ therefore the song almost wrote itself. now with a week of recording under your belt, the song was taking off with your production team. they loved it. and so did you. it was determined to be the main single on your album release which was approaching fast. 

“hey, lan, i didn’t think you’d get here until later,” you say to your boyfriend as you lock up the door behind you. 

“i flew with some of the guys on a private flight, so we landed early,” he explains while getting up and walking to meet you at the door for a kiss, “how was the studio?”

“it was good,” you breathe out, beginning to take off your shoes and toss your bag onto the couch, then going to the kitchen to try and find some food, “i have a few more sessions before the single is ready, and then the album should be finished,”

“that’s nice,” lando replies, stealing a few grapes from the bowl of fruit you grabbed, “can i come with tomorrow?”

“what?” you choke out, not prepared for his question. lando had accompanied you a few times to recording sessions, he seemed to really enjoy them. however, he had never watched you record a song about him, especially one that may be taken the wrong way.

“can i come with you tomorrow?” he asks you a bit slower, attempting to read your facial expression, “to your recording session?”

“oh, um,” you stumble out, “i thought you had to be in the sim?”

“no, that’s in two days, tomorrow i’m free,” he looks you up and down with confusion before continuing, “what’s going on?”

“i’m sorry, lan,” you sigh, pushing the fruit in your bowl around a bit as a distraction, “the song i’ve been recording, well, it’s…” you slow your speech in an attempt to find the right words.

“what?” he pushes, confused on what could be so bad.

“it’s about you, okay?” you finally get out, “and it’s not really a love song,”

“then what is it?” lando asks and you finally take a look at him, but you aren’t able to read his face. 

“you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“no, y/n, what is it?” he demands, pushing forward on the counter in order to get closer to you. 

“it’s just-”

“a breakup song?”

“no! no,” you exclaim, still trying to read his face, “it’s kind of a ‘please don’t make me break up with you’ song,” you let out the last part quietly, now looking back down at your fruit again.

“is this about the other night? at the club? or the weekend before?”

“i mean kind of all of it,” you shrug off honestly, “you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“fine,” he answers, quiet and solemn, “i’m sorry, y/n,”

“why are you sorry?” you ask, finally looking up at him again.

“you clearly don’t trust me, and i know i have a history, i get it, i really do, but-”

“but what?” you cut him off, relieved that he finally may be understanding your point of view, “lando i know we’re young and rich and we can go out and have fun-”

“y/n-” lando attempts to butt in, however you keep going.

“no, lando, let me finish. i know that we are young and stupid but that is us as individuals. i don’t want to have to keep going on fucking podcasts or talk shows where i have to explain why my boyfriend is acting single! it’s one thing to have fun, it’s another to embarrass the shit out of me,” you huff out your feelings, and finally the weight on your chest seemingly disappears. 

“i’m sorry, y/n," he sighs out, running a hand down his face, "i guess i’m just used to not dating other famous people and forgot that it can impact your career too, i’m used to it only affecting mine,” lando begins to move towards you, his hands finding their home on your waist. 

“it’s fine, like i said, i understand,” you breathe into his chest as you hug him, “i just needed to relieve that stress, and writing does that for me,”

“i get it,” he replies, his left hand coming to rub your back, soothing you further into his arms, “i love you, y/n,”

“i love you too, lando,”

-

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

-

it was finally your album release party a few months later. lando, along with his family and friends were there as well as your whole team and your friends and family. your fresh single had broken records and skyrocketed with presales for your album which would be fully released at midnight. to say you were on a high was an understatement. as you sat next to lando in your finest dress, he squeezed your hand a few times, bringing you back down to earth. 

“are you alright?” he nudges you quietly, distracting you from your upcoming speech. 

“i sing in front of stadiums, lan,” you chuckle, “i think a speech won’t kill me,” you whisper back to him.

“i know,” he laughs, “just making sure,”

“thank you, love,” you kiss his cheek just as your manager pulls you away from him and near the stage. your producer was giving a speech before you, and he was just about to introduce you for yours. 

“and now, the lady you’ve been waiting for all evening, y/n y/l/n!” he cries out, the venue erupting in cheers of encouragement as you waltz across the stage to the mic. giving your producer a light hug and a kiss on each cheek, you stop in front of the microphone and clear your throat to begin. 

“i just want to say, first off, thank you to everyone who came tonight. i’m absolutely sure it wasn’t because of the free alcohol and food provided,” you chuckle with the rest of the crowd at your brief joke before continuing.

“as always, being able to even make an album and live out my dream is a blessing, so thank you to everyone who always makes that possible. that would easily be my manager, my production team, and my fans, you guys are the best and i wouldn’t be here without you,”

you pause again briefly for the crowd to cheer in acknowledgment and proceed, “my family and friends, you all never stopped believing in me and there is no way i would be on this stage right now if it weren’t for your support,” one more pause and a deep breath before you begin again. 

“and finally, lando,” your teary eyes meet his as you spot max fewtrell giving him a few playful jabs to the shoulder.

“you are and will forever be my muse, my light, my inspiration, and my heart. thank you, for your patience, for your love, and for trusting me with your heart,” you begin to choke up, leading you to swallow your tears as the crowd begins to ‘awe’, “i love you, lan. this album wouldn’t be possible without you, and i wouldn’t be the woman i am today without you by my side. thank you,” you finish off, blowing a kiss in his direction as he quickly wipes a tear from his eye. he wouldn’t embarrass you, he wouldn’t even think about risking the joy you bring him everyday. 

-

Please, please, please (Please)

Please, please, please (Please)

Please (Please), please (Please), please

[nobodyfamousposts]

Scarlet Lady Top 10 Favorite Characters: Number 10

For @zoe-oneesama

Okay, I realized as I was writing these that there is way way WAY too much to each of these and why to be able to put them all into one post, so I'm breaking them down into individual essays focusing on each one to keep them palatable.

So without further ado....

Number 10: EVERYONE

Yeah, I know it may be cheating but at this point it was the only choice I could make.

I came to regret making this list, specifically because I couldn’t seem to make up my mind as far as who all would be on it. I reread the entire series. I kept switching people in and out as I was reminded of characters or scenes I loved. And I came to a realization that there is no character in the whole of this series I didn’t enjoy to some extent that they didn't deserve some love in this list and I kind of wish I could have added all of them just to give them all some spotlight.

Yes, it is partly because everyone is vastly improved compared to Canon. But as I reread the series, it came to mind that if Canon didn’t exist and I didn’t have the comparison between the characters, I still very much would have loved this series and everyone in it.

Cause and Effect Exist

It's important to have a setting in which the characters and their actions make sense for the world they live in. When the setting is supposed to be modern day earth, we need the people to be able to show that they are capable of surviving in it on a day to day basis without being so massively incompetent that they would do something like accidentally ingesting poison. Or forgetting how to breathe.

I would think it would be obvious, but sometimes Canon makes me wonder. Which is never a good look for a show that is supposed to have some level of seriousness and involve superheroes.

Here’s the thing Canon can’t seem to get: when a majority of the things that go wrong in a plot are because of everyone having to be stupid to make the plot work, you have a problem with the writing. Changing the material in a story so that younger people can enjoy it does NOT mean dumbing down the characters and throwing in arbitrary lessons with no real reason to them. Even if the show itself is geared towards kids, you can’t treat the audience like they’re stupid.

In Scarlet Lady, the people aren’t stupid.

Silly, yes. Wrong, often. Overdramatic, definitely. But while they may make stupid choices sometimes, they aren’t so dumb that anyone should have concerns about their ability to function at a higher level than an overcaffinated 2 year old.

They’re fooled initially the way many of us would be with a biased story that hits the news first. Oblivious to the problems in a situation that they logically wouldn’t have much direct insight into. Prone to making mistakes and incorrect judgement the way that anyone would. That's normal. That's expected.

But they’re not so incapable as to forget things that happen right in front of them between one day and the next. Or even between one scene and the next.

Things carry over. We see cause and effect. We see consequences—bad and good. And those consequences extend not only for the episode or season but for the entire series.

Aurore KNOWs Alec cheated her before and maintains a tight control over him and prevents more of his antics.

Adrien and Alya maintain a cold attitude towards Lila for some time after her reveal as a liar. And it even remains a point against her as used by Chloe as herself and as Scar to discount what she says.

The boys of the class remember Adrien’s “love letter to Marigold” and try to win him her merch because they’re bros like that. 

Adrien himself remembers the instances of his dad being a massive prick and instead of being surprised and “sad boi uwuwu” each time it happens like it’s supposed to be a surprise that the massive prick would choose to be a prick, he very clearly moves through the stages of grief to the point of a sort of acceptance that involves planning around and even for him.

Gabriel’s horrible parenting and general lack of concern for Adrien or his wellbeing as he ends up a casualty of various akuma attacks was played off for laughs when such incidents occurred. Then they were brutally called out against him in the Finale as a way to counter his claims of doing everything for Adrien’s sake. And the big reveal of the Birthday Scarf…utilized in the last way anyone would have wanted.

And Chloe is perhaps the biggest example as her antics ARE NOT forgotten or ignored by anyone. The classmates still interact with Chloe and are relatively nice to her, but they don’t just forget that she’s treated them horribly. They don’t act surprised when she does anything horrible. Nor does anyone just laugh it off or excuse it as “just who she is”. We see follow up to her behavior—the class fully expecting her to cause trouble and actively try to plan around it. People calling her out on past behaviors. And even bigger consequences as time goes on. Such as Adrien breaking off the friendship. And a blink and you miss it fridge logic moment in Ikari Gozen when you realize that when they said she was banned from all future Gabriel-involved competitions, they meant it.

The fact that by the time the big reveal happened that Chloe was Scarlet Lady, no one was shocked.

Story-wise, this is showing the passage of time and the effect the events of the story are having. It’s showing that there is lasting impact and that what happens to the characters matters.

Meta-wise, this is Zoe rewarding us for paying attention.

Continuity exists in Scarlet Lady. Time exists. The people exist. When anyone does anything, you get the sense that they aren’t operating in a vacuum. The things they do matter. There are consequences. There is an impact. And if there is an impact in the story, there will be an impact on the audience.

Which leads to…

Character Depth/Character Growth

Usually in TV shows of this nature, if there ARE character arcs for the side characters, they only occur over the course of a single episode devoted to focusing on them before moving on elsewhere. 

Canon didn’t give us that much at all in favor of having every episode that should focus on other characters learning and growing instead forcing Marinette to be wrong in some way and learn an arbitrary lesson that often would have better served for someone else.

In Scarlet Lady, the arcs we get are impressive for all that they’re relatively unobtrusive. They aren’t big. They aren’t world-ending. And the thing is, most change in life isn’t. It can just FEEL that way.

Like the way it felt for Kim when he first found out Ondine liked him and then had his confession to her screwed up.

And the way it felt for Kagami when she lost that first match against Adrien.

Then there’s the way it felt for Chloe when she was dismissed by her mother, had her popularity go downhill, and ended up losing her Miraculous.

…or the way it felt for Adrien when he discovered his dad was Hawk Moth.

The reactions we witness are in a great part due to actions outside of the characters’ control, but are ultimately a result of the experiences they have had and the ways they have changed as a result.

The question becomes: are the characters that we meet at the beginning pretty much identical to how they are at the end? Is the world?

The answer in Scarlet Lady is no.

Whether because the characters themselves change or our perception of them does, we can see that they have all undergone some sort of events that create a difference between the start and end points.

Not all of them HAVE to undergo some big emotional arc. Not all of them NEED to. But the characters still mostly go through some sort of growth by the end that I feel make them stronger and healthier people.

You’ve got the big life-altering changes like Lila and Sabrina.

You’ve got the little changes like Nino and Ivan.

You’ve even got the most minuscule, beginning stages of change in Chloe.

You’ve got growth that creates such perfect setup with Mylene when she starts off scared and traumatized by how things went with Stoneheart then is the one who confronts him in the end. And the parallel between the finale and the beginning when she returns him to normal by kissing him just like they did in that first episode to change him back then, too! (Just….GOD, I CANNOT GET OVER THIS!)

You’ve got them reaching out and making friends and relating to people they hadn’t before.

And by the end of it all, we get characters who feel like people rather than props.

They don’t all have to change. They don’t necessarily need to go through an entire emotional arc and back again. They just need to be part of the world they’re in.

Nino doesn’t just pop into existence when Adrien or Alya need someone to interact with. Kagami isn’t just a non-horrible or non-evil love rival for Adrien or a stepping stool for him to “practice“ at being in a relationship before it’s time for him to try the “real thing” with his endgame pairing. Luka isn’t just a decent guy who is the only actual form of support for the female lead and yet only lacking that precious “male lead” title or all around just not “Adrien enough” to fill the role.

Adrien isn’t just a “sad boy” meant to be a main love interest, Villain’s Morality Pet, and the one everyone idolizes and chases after just cuz he’s the male lead and that’s how you show he’s desirable I guess. Marinette isn’t the atlas keeping the story alive because no one else is apparently capable of learning lessons and changing, or even just the bare basics of functioning as individuals. Chloe isn’t just there to be horrible for no reason and get away with it so she can continue to be horrible until the writers suddenly need her to be sympathetic.

And the rest of the classmates aren’t just some Greek chorus there to fill the background.

We see them interact. We see them making jokes or jabs. We see them even…*gasp* having different opinions!

And on something as major and life-controlling as feelings about the “Hero of the City” no less! Why, that’s the sort of thing that would break up friendships and determine who you can sit next to at the cafeteria! The horror! The scandal!

And…oh hey. This puts the characters in different groups. It links them with characters other their Canonically designated pairings and groups. This lets them disagree on things and not need to vilify any of them. This creates implications that add depth to the story and to the people in it.

The characters can disagree without being enemies. They can be wrong without having to be evil. They can make mistakes without having to be stupid. And they can change and grow—both for better and worse.

And we see both and in different ways. SO many different ways.

Adrien goes from excited and impulsive to buckling under the forced responsibility and weight of a partner who hinders more than she helps.

Lila goes from selfishly bad and self-serving to selfish but friendly with better direction of her talents in a less self-serving way.

And Chloe just goes from selfish and bad to selfish and worse..

I mean, it says something that the combination of Lila’s growth and Chloe’s fall from grace resulted in Hawk Moth being unable to use Lila as a tool for his Heroes Day plot like he originally intended.

The key is that whether they necessarily grow or become better people, these characters are still IMPACTED by the events around them and AFFECTED as a natural result of the world they live in. 

You can’t help but feel for them in some way as a result. It’s part of why I love them.

The other part of why I love them is a bit more epic though…

Crowning Moments of Awesome

If there’s one thing I love, it’s seeing characters be awesome. I love it when characters get to be awesome. I would love to see more of it. Especially when the ones involved are characters you wouldn’t normally expect or get to see have a chance to shine.

And it’s when you see these characters be awesome that you really get the sense that yes, this character would work as a hero.

Seeing Max help against Robustus. Seeing Kim help against Odine. Alix stepping in during Pharaoh, calling out her brother’s fan fiction, and helping the heroes escape the security system at the Lourve. Alya stepping in during Copycat to clue Chat in to what’s going on and later keeping Anansi distracted to keep her away from Chat while he’s trapped. Rose kicking Nightmare!Chat in the face to defend Marinette even when she’s on the run from her own nightmares in Sandboy. Luka leading groups twice to stepping in and helping the heroes deal with akumas. Nathaniel standing up for Marinette and Sabrina when they’re accused in Rogercop and then helping the heroes in Reverser.

These little moments of support make such a big different and really make it make sense that the heroes would trust these people with magical jewelry to help them in battle.

And the little moments of characters being petty or strong or smart or turning the tables or just showing off what they’re capable of. Even without superpowers.

Adrien getting petty revenge for Nino and finding a tactic to counter Gabriel in the future.

The Police Force in Rogercop just saying “Nope” to obeying an obvious akuma. 

Zoe manipulating akumas twice to help the heroes. Her two Reasons You Suck Speeches to her mom and Bustier.

Every instance of payback that Tikki gets against Chloe.

Everyone in the Finale. Just…EVERYONE in the Finale. The characters who manage to avoid akumatization by either spotting the flaws in the illusion or refusing to give in to fear and even protecting others. Nora smacking any akuma that enters the home. Claudie pulling off Power Mom and ordering Max to stop attacking the city then helping to calm him down. Prince Ali and Juleka freeing Rose by kissing her! Chris, Ella, Etta, and Manon saving Mylene! Mylene saving Ivan with a kiss in a direct callback to how they first got together in Stoneheart! (Yes, I am still stuck on that!) Ondine saving Kim! Lila and Sabrina saving Alix! Luka facing Riposte alone and unarmed and then Kitty Section saving Kagami! ALL of the Heroes making a final comeback to help take down Hawk Moth for good! Just—AAAAAH!

How could Miraculous have peaked with this in Season 2 when this is Grand Finale material? Because there are few things more awesome than getting to see ALL the characters the heroes met and befriended and helped throughout the course of the story stepping up at the final battle to help take the Big Bad down!

Like…can we just take a moment to appreciate how everyone gets a chance to stand out in some way? Not all of them necessarily good, exactly (looking at you Andre). But still stand out and be memorable. Even characters who didn’t originally get much focus. Especially characters who were originally functioning as cardboard cutouts to fill a scene.

Anyone remember Aurore? How for the FIRST akuma in the pilot of the series and one who is quite frankly the most interesting and noteworthy, we don’t really get to see her again except in the background.

In Scarlet Lady, we got to actually look in to the contest and how she lost as well as the aftermath. She wasn’t some arrogant showoff who deserved to lose to the “sweet down to earth rival”, she was a girl who legitimately tried her best and had valid reason to be upset. Seeing her get revenge on Alec for cheating and humiliating her on live TV was well worth it.

Or how about the Photographer? Just there to take photos of Adrien in the park for a photo shoot or be the school photographer, but otherwise has no personality and is only remembered for his weird “spaghetti” line.

In Scarlet Lady, his role is two-fold. He acts as a sort of supporter for Adrien in his crush. Taking really good pictures of him being happy with the girl he likes. Taking more class photos at the behest of this girl for the sake of a friend who missed out on the class picture. And then there’s his OTHER role as a sort of antagonist to Chloe. He becomes one of the only ones in the early seasons willing and capable of dismissing her tantrums.

They’re both given more character. They get moments to stand out and BE awesome. So is everyone.

EVERYONE. From the classmates and big named characters we see regularly to the side characters who only appear once or twice. They all get some good scenes and focus that give them their own identities. All of them are memorable. None of them can really be ignored or forgotten. And part of what made making this list so difficult was that I found myself getting attached to pretty much everyone as I came across each of them that I couldn’t quite make up my mind.

Everyone in this fic has done something to make me happy and warrant my approval. Even the characters I normally wouldn’t like at all had their moments to shine and elicit an “okay, that was cool” from me.

Thus I grant this spot to everyone. To all the characters I don’t get the chance to mention. To all the ones I like albeit somewhat less than others. To all the ones I know are horrible but can’t help but like regardless. To all the ones I fought with myself for THREE MONTHS over which one would get this spot.

I love all of them.

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Malfunctions

Dpxdc Prompt #9

Ectoplasm and electricity didn't mix well.

More specifically, Danny's ectoplasm and electricity didn't mix well.

There were of course ways that the two could interact or else half of the Fenton Tech wouldn't work and Technus' powers would be completely useless. The only reason Danny's ecto specifically didn't really interact well with electricity was well, because of the way he died.

Interacting with the stuff that killed him apparently caused his ecto to have a visceral reaction. It didn't mean that Danny couldn't touch things that ran on electricity. It just meant that if he did his brain would go into fight-or-flight mode immediately and being a ghost he was now permanently wired to fight.

That was fine with Danny, majority of the tech he interacted with was trying to kill him and would've put him in fight mode anyway. What Danny didn't realize was with any non-ecto contaminated tech, it was put in fight-or-flight mode as well.

Too bad he had no reason to know this before moving into Gotham with a family that practically ran on tech.

Tim was going crazy and no it didn't have anything to do with the fact he hadn't slept in two days or the insane villains roaming the streets. No, really, he was going crazy because every piece of Bat-tech had suddenly decided to malfunction.

The worst of the bunch was Dick's escrima sticks and the communicators. The escrima sticks were sending out electricity when they were turned off and were more volatile than ever. The communicators would send out a constant stream of static.

Of course every other piece of tech was malfuntioning too, but those seemed to be what went first and worst. Bat-tech wasn't perfect, but there was no way a virus could've effected all their gear. In fact, there was no sign of a virus of any kind.

Tim had checked, and checked again, and had Babs cross-check (her tech seemed to be working fine, but Tim had to drop by the clocktower himself to talk to her. The communicator problem was quite inconvenient), and even allowed any siblings of his that wanted to to try and discover what was wrong.

There had been no big battle before everything stopped working, but there was an event that occurred right around when the tech started malfunctioning. The Waynes had a new addition, another kid to add to their family that didn't know of their... extracurriculars.

Or at least hadn't been told about them.

Everything was wrong in the Bat-cave and Daniel Fenton was suspect #1.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WE CAN DIP IF YOU’RE READY ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere imo), mild age gap (five years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach.

but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room; listening to the sound of the nearby sea. you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and foolishly wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, pajama pants clinging to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

(suddenly, without mercy; a finality to his voice.)

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, all those years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture. 

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking at you, looking through you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god; his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod, smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws a backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of pancakes on the kitchen table, sugary and sweet, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends. 

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

… except they don’t.

the moral of the story is: satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was nineteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a naive little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

five years later, on a breezy summer evening, you step onto a bustling train platform with your luggage in tow — breathing in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look up at them, and then back down; everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades, the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you. 

there she is. with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided, a yellow sundress and matching headband; sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other just a month ago — you indulge her.

“i missed you too, riko…”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

”you’re still mad about that?” you match her expression, sulking. “it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards a familiar house, resting in the distance. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.” 

(… ah. right.)

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb.

from within an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze, the buzz of an old radio spills out. when you strain your ears, you think you hear humming — gentle and sweet.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.

a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own. “good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”… i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off, muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own — leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice.

”i bet,” he hums. ”take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot, unable to properly look into his eyes. for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward.

one large stride towards you, as sudden as a lightning bolt, before he leans down to wrap his arms around you. squeezing your waist, with his biceps, not quite as tight as you remember his hugs being; you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.

“i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can. 

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen. 

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly. 

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves. 

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.” 

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a too-loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for the right words, brain tied up into fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, grounding, and all you can do is gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“… you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet, now. soft and sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. you love her for it.

but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating — but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament. 

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.” 

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm. 

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat. 

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?” 

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes… 

suguru. 

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by... i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers. 

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid. 

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look. 

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe. 

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room. 

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan flowing from his throat. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with a distinctly cold gaze, one you aren’t accustomed to seeing. you crane your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless. embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. he was just looking out for you.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response.

“i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him? 

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing, even though you’re anything but.

one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening. 

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more — unable to help yourself — you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“… it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re five years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet. 

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it’s dripping with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it, okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair with a gentle caress. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her. 

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up. that your legs were long enough.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart, and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated, even if you’re completely delusional and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds. 

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thighs, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable. he’s strong. very strong.

the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and, honestly, you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after another, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually… some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those printed white flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no,” he murmurs, softly, the slightest shake of his head. ”because i wanted to be prepared. in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something…” a sheepish little chuckle. ”i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep a steady hold around your legs. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy. i hope you can understand that.”

silence. then, a displeased huff.

“… you’re not some random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he stands a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet. satoru, your first love.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat. you’re not sure he heard you. if he did, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time. 

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think, more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have. 

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you. solemn, steady, a pillar of salt.

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking with the sound. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking, if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, and oxygen spills out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“… has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

now he’s just teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm; his voice set to a melodic lilt, as if tempting you to close your eyes. it’s summer, in a quiet port town.

and you adore him again. 

that’s right, you muse, belatedly. loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t ever an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so. if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown yard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom — just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away; at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all, that’s it. that was always it.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts, unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off little ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right. 

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you both. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

[luvleyshif4]

rafe x reader.... she's touchstarved. Maybe size/height difference. Just the wonderful feeling of him being the protector (and 'provider'). They've only been dating for a little while but he figures out that her love language is physical touch. And she's so surprised bc she isn't used to receiving love. Prob a bad family setting... thanks, love <33

JUST HOLD ME

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mention of family issues, emotional vulnerability, emotional repression, medium angst turned into fluff, reader is touch starved, implied toxic family dynamics, reader might have body dysmorphia (N/A).

Word count: 1.22k words

Authors note: heyy bb!! Tysmmm for requesting this!!! I already had something like that sitting in my drafts so I thought I’d just add some changes to suit your idea🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽honestly your idea made it sooo soo much better!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT CAUSE I KNOW I DO💗💗 (also I didn’t proof read this so let me know if there’s any grammar mistakes😝😝)

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy yet comforting. Rafe’s truck hummed softly beneath you, the glow of the dashboard lights casting faint shadows across his face.

He had picked you up an hour ago, like he always did when your texts grew short and vague, as though he could sense the things you didn’t say. The roads were empty, a blur of dim streetlights and the occasional flicker of passing headlights.

You sat in the passenger seat, curled slightly toward the door, your oversized hoodie swallowing you whole. Rafe’s hand rested on the gear shift, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm as the faint hum of music played in the background.

He wasn’t saying much tonight, giving you space like he always did, but you could feel his eyes flick toward you now and then, studying you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked, his voice breaking the silence but staying soft.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers playing with the strings of your hoodie. The truth was, you didn’t know how to talk about it—the way your chest felt tight every time you thought about home, the way your family’s sharp words had a way of cutting deeper than they should. It wasn’t new, but it felt heavier lately, like you were dragging something you couldn’t shake off.

“I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and hollow.

Rafe glanced at you again, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t press, though. He never did. Instead, his hand shifted, brushing lightly against your knee before returning to the gear shift. It was such a small gesture, but it made your throat tighten. You turned your head, staring out the window, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your hands were trembling slightly.

The silence stretched on, comfortable for him, suffocating for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Rafe—you did, more than you’d ever thought possible for someone you’d only been with for a few months. It was just that you didn’t know how to let someone in like this. You didn’t know how to let yourself be seen, not when you’d spent so long trying to shrink yourself down, to take up less space.

Rafe, of course, noticed everything.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you felt the shift when he slowed the truck down, pulling over to the side of the road. The engine idled softly as he put the truck in park, turning to face you fully. His brows were drawn together, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Your chest tightened again, and you shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze. “Just a long day.”

Rafe let out a soft, disbelieving huff, leaning back slightly. He didn’t look frustrated, just… concerned. And that concern was somehow worse, more overwhelming than if he’d been annoyed.

“Come on,” he said, his tone lighter but still holding that edge of care. “You don’t get this quiet unless something’s really messing with you. I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well tell me.”

The weight of his words hit you harder than you expected. You glanced at him, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. Rafe’s gaze softened even further, and without thinking, he reached over, his hand hesitating for a moment before he grazed the back of his fingers against your cheek. The touch was featherlight, and yet it sent a shiver through you. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into it, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the warmth.

Rafe stilled, watching you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His hand lingered there, his knuckles brushing over your skin softly, reverently. “You’re allowed to let me in,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched at his words, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you let yourself lean into his hand fully, your head tilting slightly as though you didn’t want him to stop. His thumb shifted, lightly grazing your chin, and your eyes opened just in time to catch the way his gaze flicked down to your lips.

It wasn’t rushed or sudden. His movements were deliberate, careful, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and slow, like a promise. He kissed you with a tenderness that made your chest ache, his hand still cradling your face as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

Your body melted into his touch, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself. The kiss deepened slightly, but it stayed unhurried, every movement of his lips against yours making you feel like you were coming undone in the best possible way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb brushing gently over your chin. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt down to your core.

“You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I need you to know that you’re not alone. Not with me.”

Your chest ached at his words, and you opened your eyes, meeting his. There was no judgment there, no expectation. Just him, just Rafe, offering you something you didn’t know how to accept but desperately wanted to.

Your lips parted like you might say something, but no words came. Instead, you let out a shaky breath and leaned into him again, resting your head on his shoulder this time. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, holding you tightly, protectively, as though shielding you from all the things you couldn’t put into words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself be held. Safe, warm, and, for once, not alone.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔/𝑳.𝑾ä𝒍𝒕𝒊

Lia tried not to let it bother her. Really, she did. But every time she watched Grace orbit around you like a lovesick puppy, it made her jaw clench just a little tighter.

It had started innocently enough when Grace joined the team. A new centre-back to partner you in Leah’s absence, someone young, eager, and determined to prove herself. That was fine. Good, even. Lia wanted Arsenal to be strong. She wanted you to have a solid partnership at the back. But then it became obvious that Grace’s admiration for you wasn’t just about football.

It was the way she always stood a little too close. The way she laughed at things you said that weren’t even remotely funny. The way she miraculously ended up next to you at every meal, every gym session, every bus ride. The way she touched your arm during conversations, like she had any right.

And you? You didn’t even notice. Completely and utterly oblivious.

It was actually Beth who called it first, nudging Lia during training one afternoon as you and Grace ran through defensive drills together.

“Someone’s got a little crush,” Beth murmured, smirking.

Lia huffed. “Ja. I noticed.”

Beth snorted. “Reckon you should be worried?”

Lia shot her a glare. “No.”

Beth laughed. “Alright, alright. Just checking.”

Later, in the changing room, Lia let out a frustrated sigh, flopping onto the bench next to Leah. “She follows her everywhere.”

Leah, busy untying her boots, glanced up. “Grace?”

Lia rolled her eyes. “Of course, Grace.”

Leah chuckled, shaking her head. “Mate, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Beth, sitting across from them, leaned forward. “She’s right. That one only has eyes for you.”

Lia groaned. “I know, I know. But it is still annoying. She touches her all the time. And she laughs too much.”

Beth grinned. “Laughs too much?”

“Yes,” Lia huffed. “She is not that funny.” You were, but only she was allowed to laugh at your jokes.

Leah patted Lia’s knee. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Lia scowled. “I am not jealous.”

“Of course not,” Beth said, grinning. “You’re just… passionately observant.”

Lia muttered something in German under her breath that made Beth burst out laughing.

*

Then came match day. It was a tough game, one where you’d been throwing your body into challenges left and right, unwilling to let anything past you. Lia had always admired that about you, the way you played with so much heart. But sometimes, your bravery made her stomach twist with worry.

And then it happened.

One bad landing. One sickening crack.

Lia’s heart stopped as you crumpled to the ground, clutching your ankle. She was up off the bench in an instant, watching as the medics ran onto the pitch. Your face was contorted in pain, and Lia could see the way you were trying not to cry.

“Scheisse,” Lia muttered, pressing her hands to her temples.

Beth was next to her, squeezing her arm. “She’ll be okay.”

Lia barely heard her. All she could do was watch as you were stretchered off, disappearing down the tunnel.

The rest of the match was a blur. Arsenal won, but Lia couldn’t have cared less. The second the final whistle blew, she was up, grabbing her stuff and heading straight for the hospital.

She wasn’t the only one with that idea.

When she arrived, still in her training gear, she was met with an unwelcome sight; Grace. Sitting at your bedside like she belonged there, her hand dangerously close to yours.

Lia’s hands clenched into fists. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Then she stepped into the room.

Just as she did, your eyes fluttered open, hazy from the pain meds, and Lia’s heart clenched at how small you looked in the hospital bed. But before she could say anything, your voice, slurred and dreamy, broke the silence.

“Lia?”

Grace stiffened. Lia smirked.

“Ja, schatz,” she murmured, stepping forward.

You turned your head toward the sound of her voice, your pupils blown wide. Then you grinned, reaching out clumsily. “Hi baby cakes.”

Lia’s brows shot up, and Beth would never let her live down the way her ears went pink.

Grace looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. “I-I just came to check on her.”

Lia crossed her arms. “No need. I am here now.”

Grace swallowed. “I was just-“

“You need to stop,” Lia cut in, her tone sharp. “She is taken. And you need to stop following her around like a lost puppy.”

Grace’s face went red, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Lia didn’t give her the chance.

“She is mine,” Lia said, her accent thick with emotion. “And she does not even see you like that.”

Grace exhaled sharply, looking away. After a long moment, she muttered, “I’m sorry,” before quickly excusing herself from the room.

Lia barely spared her a glance, already turning her attention back to you. You, meanwhile, were still grinning at her like she was the best thing you’d ever seen.

“Sexy Swiss,” you whispered, giggling.

Lia sighed, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “How much pain medicine did they give you?”

You blinked at her. “Dunno.” Then, suddenly, your eyes filled with tears. “I missed you.”

Lia softened instantly. She reached out, brushing your hair back gently. “I am here now, liebling.”

You sniffled, reaching for her clumsily. “C’mere.”

Lia chuckled, carefully shifting and leaning down so you could wrap your arms around her. You clung to her like she was your lifeline, mumbling something about how good she smelled as you buried your face into her neck.

She pressed a soft kiss to your temple, her heart full. “Ich liebe dich,” she whispered.

You hummed, already half-asleep again. “Love you too, sexy Swiss.”

*

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