#almost 7 in the morning time to remind people

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.

Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.

“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”

“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”

She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.

They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.

“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.

The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.

“Shut up.”

Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.

But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.

He just wants.

Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.

Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”

She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”

Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.

They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.

It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.

“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.

His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.

Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.

*** 

Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?

He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.

It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.

So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.

       Eddie —

       How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?

       I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.

       I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.

       I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.

       Yours, Always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.

Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.

He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all. 

He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy. 

There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.

“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room,  all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.

Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.

Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.

“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.

He never looks Eddie’s way at all.

“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.

“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.

Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.

Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”

Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?

Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.

Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”

And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?

It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.

Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.

The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.

Steve’s embarrassment suits him.

Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”

“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”

“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.

Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.

“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”

Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.

And they’re off!

It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.

He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.

Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.

Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.

After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show. 

Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.

Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again.  When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.

Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?

“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.

Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.

“At what, big boy?”

“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”

Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.

Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.

“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”

Neither of them wait for a reply.

The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.

“How the hell should I know?”

Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.

“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”

That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.

The only answer is the door swinging shut.

*** 

Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation. 

When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.

“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.

“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.

It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.

“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.

“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”

Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”

“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”

Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”

Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”

It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.

Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”

Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.

Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”

Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.

Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.

Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.

Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.

“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.

“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?

Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.

“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”

Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”

Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”

“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”

Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.

He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.

Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.

He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.

PART 9

[coldhearthotlove]

Me In 2020

Everyone: “Don’t worry, COVID will be over within a few years.”

Expectation: *The virus will fade away to a point where it becomes rare, and hardly anyone will ever get it anymore. Vaccines will become available that will completely eradicate it. Long COVID sufferers will eventually completely recover. Everything will be exactly like it was pre-2020.*

Me In 2023

Reality: *Everyone pretends it doesn’t exist anymore, even though it’s as rampant as ever. 1,000+ people are directly dying from COVID in the U.S. alone each week. Thousands around the world are still getting infected with the virus each week. Long COVID sufferers are still suffering, with no sign of getting better in sight. We’re learning more and more about how dangerous this virus actually is, yet people are caring less and less. Very few people still wear masks anymore in the United States; and social distancing is nonexistent. You’re probably more likely to be harassed by a stranger for wearing a mask now, than come across someone who actually still takes this seriously.*

Things are actually worse now than 2020, because unlike 2020 - when safety protocols were in place, no one cares now…

[squiddy-god]

Hello!! I just read your twst x chubby S/O and I thought it was amazing! Could I request Third Years x S/O who's into crocheting and crochets them plushies or keychains as random gifts? Plus a bonus when they admit that after they graduation Night raven they want to start a small business on it after hiding it if you want >w<

Hehehehe i love this so much because i crochet! It is one of my many house husband skills, personally my favorite things to make is these little octopuses but i should really branch out lol, this reminds me of those manhwas where the mc starts a business that booms 

Cw : tooth rotting fluff, mc has a successful side hustle to make that bag, gn reader, bonus grim because i love my cat so much, my son, grims is obvi platonic, rsa mention because vil is petty

Grim 

Oh hes bragging 

His human henchman is the best because they make him cute gifts 

The skrungly

I wanna make him little kitty outfits for every occasion

Making grim cat toys and he acts like he doesn't like them at first but he literally wont sleep without the crochet tuna fish you made him 

I think he needs a little kitty bag to wear and put his stuff in (mostly tuna) 

He would taunt the others because clearly he is the most special kitty with his very cool bad and fish 

He is and i won't stand for anyone telling me otherwise, i love our bastard cat son

Cater 

Hes obsessed 

If you make him a keychain then he is adding it to his growing collection on his phone right away

I hc that hes a big fan of stuffed animals so he adores anny that you make him and they sit on his bed 

He names all of them

He helps you start the small business during school actually! At first its his suggestion to run a magicam page for all your creations 

Soon the comments are flooded with people asking if you sell, one thing leads to another and boom you now have a successful side hustle 

Rsa is honestly a big seller they love this kind of stuff

He loves everything you make him and never stops posting about his love for it

Very supportive of your small business ventures 

His favorite thing you've made him is a little bag for pens and pencils that is shaped like a playing card because he thinks its just the cutest thing in the world 

And the keychains that he gets to show off whenever he whips his phone out (often)

Some of his favorite candid photos of you are when you’re crocheting peacefully 

Trey 

Dometic bliss pt.1

Trey is,,,such an old man- he like baking and the simple domestic little things like making you coffee/tea in the morning 

He loves to watch you crochet because he thinks its very cute and wholesome to spend time when you are doing activities together that are calm 

MAKE THIS MAN DOILIES AND POT HOLDERS please 

He adores the set of frilly doilies you made him and the cute potholders are always in use

He is 100% in support of your dreams of making that bag, honestly he really thinks you should get a start now to make extra cash on the side since 7 forbid crowley pay you for the work you do

He smiles every time he sees a tart cooling on one of the doilies you made him, seeing the little pattern always makes him happy

He trades you baked good for the things you make him so i hope you enjoy sweet treats

Leona 

Cat…big kitty…

Oddly captivated by any balls or skeins of yarn that are out and about but hes fighting the urge to play with them 

He is not beating the house cat allegations 

At first hes pretty neutral on it honestly, he likes the gifts you give him because they are just his but hes not a big keychain guy, or stuffies

Then you make him a blanket and hes gone 

He claims to be neutral about it, saying he likes the gift but dont be fooled by his aloof act he sleeps with that blanket everywhere 

He is bringing it to class if he doesn't just skip the class 

It is his favorite blanket and he almost lost his shit when ruggie took it to wash it- he's kinda territorial about the blanket 

Gives 0 fucks that its some cutesy blanket with little lions on it

Also a big fan of pillows/pillow covers 

If you make him multiple blankets he loves them too but the first one is extra special to him 

Hes neutral about you starting a business during or after school/graduation because well,,,he's a whole prince,,,

You make cheka a matching blanket and leona gets a very happy letter from his brother on how much the mini lion loves it, leona rolls his eyes but is secretly very proud of you 

Regardless if you want to start the small business he is happy to support you making that bread 

Vil 

Vil in crochet clothes my beloved 

Hes charmed by your little hobby and the adorable stuffed animal you made him, a little crochet owl that sits on his vanity so he sees it when he does his makeup and night routine 

Vil does not post a lot of personal stuff on his magicam/socials, but he does wear anything you make him, he has a folder in his gallery dedicated to photos of the two of you, dates or candid photos either he took or rook took and sent to him. 

Most of these pics he's in something you crochet for him even if it's just a simple keychain it's a staple of his 

He is very supportive of your dreams of starting a business for your crochet, he admires the drive and discipline and encourages you to pursue this work 

Ironically if you start a side hustle soon to be full business, neige of all people is a big customer as he's fond of cute stuff like this 

This is where vil gets petty 

He sees a photo post of neige’s where he’s in a new outfit, not odd at all, what catches vils attention is that the cardigan and hat he's wearing is oddly similar to a piece he saw you working on for an order- anyone watching can see the twitch in vil’s eye when he sees the shoutout to you in the caption

The next 5-8 posts of vil’s are a mix of his regular posts and pictures of him in your clothes or with the keychains, all with captions along the lines of “my beautiful s/o @[your name here]”

He even posts the owl

Rook 

If you were to make him a keychain he calls it his lucky charm for hunting and always had it on him. 

Really he's just fond of anything you make him

a lot of his photos are of you when you are deep in a project and not paying attending, candid photos like this are his favorites and he looks at them often 

He really likes any little animal stuffies you make because he thinks they are just the cutest 

“Hunts” your plushies aka he will sneak up on you making them or sorting them out and act like he caught them 

Silly

He is very supportive of your business ventures, he loves to see you so passionate about wanting to eventually start a small business and be able to sell your creations 

He definitely encourages you to sell a few things in sams shop, afterall he sells anything and everything anyone could ever need

Idia 

The outfits you make grim are his faves 

He is a cat man at heart and cant help but coo over every new thing you make grim because it makes the kitty so so so cute and as a cat he was already uber SS+ cute levels 

He is also a big fan of any keychains you make him or even stuffies

The stuffies either are on his bed so he can cuddle them or they are with the rest of his game/anime figures on his shelves so its a horrific mix of like neon genesis mechs and crochet 

I think it would be funny to make him doilies to put the figures on because when hes gaming and people are like “dude why is your [super cool limited edition game figure] on a doily???” hes like “haha L+loser+lonely+my super cool s/o made them for me lvl10 affection” and is it cringe as hell? Yes. can those normies suck it because hes no longer forever alone? Also yes

They are demanding proof or it didn't happen 

Ortho is also a big fan and has a lil keychain you made hooked on him <3

idia would actually combust if you made anything themed after a game or show he watches/plays because that is SS+ max lvl affection with full hearts right there 

You have unlocked the super secret route and that is unlimited discord nitro and a new pc because he is so happy 

He also would support your business during and after school 

Malleus 

Domestic bliss pt 2

Genuinely you are breaking this guy. Like he cannot take it anymore 

I feel we all can agree malleus is prone to casual proposals because hes just,,,kinda like that

He pictures a future with you by his side and you aren't making it any better by being so endearing 

When he sees you doing something as simple as sitting down and crocheting his draconic heart is filled with sweet domestic love, makes him feel like an old married couple and he can't take it lmao 

At first he's a bit weird about accepting gifts as it's a big deal in fae culture to just,,,get a gift out of nowhere

But he does accept them, he simply gives you something he sees as equal value (this is how you end up with several big ass gems)

He considers all of your gifts his most precious items, his favorites however are the following 4 gifts he has received 

A keychain that looks like his gaogao-drakon-kun tamagotchi witch he keeps on the same keychain as said virtual pet

A gargoyle plushy that he considers to be one of his most treasured gifts, in a similar light he has a plushie of your fave animal and you have a dragon plushie that match (this almost killed him)

And a little crochet bracelet that you match (he never takes it off unless he has to) 

Your desire to start a business throws him for a loop at first because in his mind you are happily by his side in the briar valley, (he is very male lead coded) but he quickly re-adjusts to account for your business plans and he is the most supportive dragon you could ever hope for 

Lilia 

Old man (affectionate) 

 I like to think lilia knits and is simply overjoyed when he finds out you crochet 

You exchange little gifts 

It makes his very old fae heart happy to sit around the ramshackle fireplace and crochet/knit with you while chatting about your day/week, simple things like this make him feel like hes back in the old days with a baby silver 

He loves anything you make him and happily wears any keychains or items he is gifted

Stuffies are named and placed around his room without a hint of shame 

And he loves that you have such good goals and dreams like a business 

I like the idea of meeting general lilia and also making him something 

At first he is confused, almost indignant that you would have the gaul to give him a gift- of all people he would never accept such a token

Maybe its something simple, a granny square on the lacy side that resembles something akin to a handkerchief, something small you explain as a favor, something youd give a knight 

He claims he is disgusted by such human customs but his grip on the crochet piece is unmistakable, and the way you wake up the next morning to a small green gem-the same that adorns his armor, tells you all you need to

[aresrambles]

Mission Complete

logan howlett x fem!reader - in which you and the wolverine shack up in a shitty hotel after a mission. nsfw, afab terms, there's only one bed, 18+reader (always), “kid”, pining!logan, pining!reader (3911 words)

a/n: just one night with this man... just one fucking night. also yes, first wolvie post but defo not the last.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Logan pauses in the doorway, his gaze lingering on the double bed crammed into the corner of your shared hotel room. He steps inside, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes dart around, searching for an alternative—a sofa, a chair, hell, even a futon. Nothing. He sighs heavily, dropping his bag with a thud, his mind racing through the options. Sharing a bed with you? That’s out of the damn question. He could sleep on the floor, or better yet, maybe there’s another room available. Spending the night with you would be some sick kind of torture; he can’t restrain himself that long.

If you notice his hesitation, you don’t show it. You slip past him with a casual brush of the shoulder, making a beeline for the bathroom. “Dibs on the shower!” you call out, rummaging through your backpack for what he figures must be a change of clothes. Logan grunts in response.

“This mission wasn’t even that bad,” you continue, your voice muffled as you dig deeper into your bag. “We’re leaving early tomorrow, so you should probably shower tonight too. Don’t need you slowing us down in the morning, old man.”

Logan doesn’t dignify your jab with a response. Instead, he turns on his heel and heads back out, letting the door click shut behind him. He’s got a better chance of dealing with the front desk than with sharing that bed. He fishes out a cigar, biting down on it as he stalks down the stairs, striking a match as he goes. The no-smoking signs? They might as well be invisible to him. If they didn’t notice him before, they’d sure as hell notice the smoke.

When he reaches the lobby, it’s empty. Logan rings the bell—once, twice.

“Hello?”

Silence. He rings the bell again, harder this time.

“Hello? Anybody here? I was just—oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His eyes land on a neat little sign perched on the desk: ‘Front desk will be available again from 7:30 a.m. tomorrow.’

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thinks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke in frustration. What if there’s an emergency? What are people supposed to do, wait until morning?

Logan growls under his breath, stubbing out the cigar on the polished wood of the counter, leaving a smoldering mark as a parting gift. He storms back up the stairs, mentally preparing himself for a night on the hard floor. It could be worse, he muses, but only just.

Logan swings open the door to a piercing shriek, slamming it shut almost as quickly as he’d opened it, his hand still gripping the doorknob with a trembling force. Okay, it could definitely be worse, he thinks, his mind spinning.

Inside, you scramble to cover yourself, your heart racing as you realize what just happened. “Seriously? Do you not knock?” you shout, your voice laced with a mix of panic and humiliation. Your face burns as you try to process the situation, the mortification almost too much to bear. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, hurriedly yanking on the oversized t-shirt you had planned to sleep in, your hands fumbling in haste.

“Why didn’t you change in the bathroom?” Logan shoots back, voice gruff, trying to mask his own flustered state. He grinds out his cigar underfoot, his mind replaying the moment he just witnessed, over and over. His ears burn hot, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the image of you—shirt halfway over your head, bare and vulnerable, your skin still glistening from the shower. Fuck. He looks down, his jeans now uncomfortably tight, the ache in his groin a harsh reminder of why sharing a bed with you is a terrible idea. He can barely keep himself together when you’re fully dressed, let alone in a state like that.

You take a moment to steady your breathing, trying to push the embarrassment down. “You can… you can come in now,” you stammer, your back turned to the door as you pretend to be engrossed in your phone, anything to avoid facing him.

Logan doesn’t reply. He pushes the door open and slips inside, his movements quick and stiff as he heads straight for the bathroom, needing to put some distance between you both. The door closes behind him, and you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. This moment was going to haunt you for a very long time.

So, you had a little crush on Logan. No big deal—just a harmless, schoolgirl crush. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But you couldn’t deny that you and Logan made a damn good team. So good, in fact, that the Professor had been pairing you two up for missions more often than not lately. And that silly, schoolgirl crush? It had started to grow into something much harder to ignore.

Your stomach churns as you roll over onto the bed, face buried in the pillows. It’s hard to admit, but part of you got a little turned on by what just happened. The searing embarrassment of having your body on display like that for the man who’d starred in so many of your late-night fantasies… It was almost too much to handle. You sigh deeply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

But then reality sets in. Logan didn’t feel the same way—how could he? The way he bolted for the bathroom was proof enough. Why would someone like him ever be interested in you? You’ve heard the stories about Logan’s past flames, women who were nothing short of extraordinary. And here you are, just another teammate, a brief moment of awkwardness quickly forgotten.

You try to push the thoughts away, deciding it’s best to just turn in for the night. There’ll be plenty of time to torture yourself with these thoughts later. For now, sleep is the only escape from the swirling mess in your head.

It was true—Logan couldn’t get away fast enough, but not for the reasons you thought. As he stood under the scorching spray of the shower, letting the steaming water cascade over his body, his eyes remained fixed on the tiles beneath his feet. His regenerative abilities could heal wounds and stitch him back together, but they never quite banished the constant ache that clung to his bones, a dull throb that even the hot water could only barely soothe. But the ache in his abdomen? That was something else entirely.

Logan couldn’t shake the image burned into his mind, the sight of you, bare and beautiful, just moments ago. He gritted his teeth, his thoughts straying where they shouldn’t. How would those perfect tits look under the water with him, droplets sliding down your skin while he took you against the shower wall? Would you mewl softly, or would you gasp, nails digging into his back? Would you cling to him, or would your legs give out, collapsing into his arms?

He let out a rough grunt, twisting the shower knob to ice-cold in an attempt to snap himself out of it. The icy blast hit him hard, but he welcomed it, hoping it might douse the fire in his veins. He could touch himself—hell, the thought crossed his mind more than once—but not with you just outside, not when you were so close. It felt wrong, too damn wrong.

The cold water eventually worked its magic, easing the unbearable tension that had built up inside him, but it took nearly an hour to do so. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Logan stepped out of the shower, drying off and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. As he looked at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, he knew one thing for certain: this was going to be a long, restless night.

Logan steps out of the bathroom to find you huddled on the floor, passed out in a tangled mess of blankets. He rolls his eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he carefully scoops you up and lays you down on the bed.

“I don’t need th’ bed,” you mumble, your voice so soft he almost misses it. He huffs through his nose, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “Where else you gonna sleep?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. You blink sleepily, trying to focus as the darkness settles around you, the only sound the gentle rustling of sheets as he adjusts you on the bed.

“Sorry about earlier,” he adds, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You don’t reply, too embarrassed to form words. Instead, you turn your face away, hoping he won’t notice the flush of heat creeping up your cheeks. But in the stillness of the night, it feels like every little movement, every breath, is amplified.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s space for both of us.” The words hang in the air, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of how close Logan is to you. You can almost feel the warmth of his breath against your face, the proximity making your heart race. But then, just as suddenly, he shifts away, the moment passing like a whisper in the dark.

It’s silent for some time, like he’s thinking. You almost speak up again but he beats you to it, just as you part your lips.

“Scoot up, kid,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You do as he says, moving over to make room, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Logan settles in beside you, and the bed dips slightly under his weight. The space between you feels impossibly small, yet you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Despite his shower, the faint smell of cigars still lingers in the air. It’s oddly comforting, grounding you in the surreal reality of the moment. You take a deep breath, trying to steady the wild thoughts racing through your mind. “Good night Logan,” you murmur, hoping that sleep will come quickly and spare you from the ache of wanting what you can’t have—craving the feel of his strong arms around you, the way his hands might tighten against your throat, and the sound of his voice purring dark promises in your ear.

“G’night,” he replies, his voice a low rumble as he turns away, leaving you back to back.

Logan is in Hell.

He can feel your warmth through the thin gap between you, every soft breath you take a reminder of just how close you are. His mouth had agreed before his mind could stop him, and now he’s paying the price. Lying next to you, with your soft body and those innocent eyes that see right through him, is torture. He wonders if there’s still time to slink back into that pile of blankets on the floor.

His muscles tense as he tries to push down the desire clawing at him, the instinct to reach out and pull you close nearly overwhelming. The scent of your skin, the way you whispered his name—everything about you is a test of his control. Logan knows he’s walking a fine line, and the longer he stays here, the harder it gets to keep himself in check.

His fists clench under the covers, every muscle in his body taut with tension. Logan can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing, the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift slightly beside him. The scent of your skin lingering in the air is really what’s holding him hostage. He tries to focus on anything else, but all he can think about is how close you are—how easy it would be to reach out and just touch you.

You lie there, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. The silence of the room is thick, almost suffocating, but you know you’re not the only one awake. You can feel it- an awareness that runs deeper than simple intuition. All those missions together, all those nights spent side by side—you’ve learned to read him in ways that go beyond words.

Without needing to glance back, you know Logan Howlett is still awake. It’s as if his presence hums in the air between you, a silent energy that’s becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. There’s a tension there, a subtle shift in the way he breathes, the way he holds himself so still, as if he’s trying not to disturb the fragile peace of the night. But you can sense it: something’s bothering him.

You wonder if it’s the same turmoil that’s been gnawing at you, the same restless desire that has kept you on edge ever since you laid down beside him. The thought of Logan feeling the same way sends a shiver through you. It’s a strange kind of comfort, knowing that you might not be alone in this.

But then again, the Wolverine is a man of secrets, you know him well, better than most, but not as well as you’d like. Not in the ways that matter most right now. And yet, lying there in the dark, with only your thoughts and the steady rhythm of his breathing to keep you company, you can’t help but wonder if the walls he’s built around himself are cracking, just as yours are.

You can’t take it anymore. Tentatively, you let your hand drift to the space between you, your fingers brushing against his side. Logan stiffens at the contact, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the darkness. Emboldened by his reaction, you let your hand slide further, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. You’re on fire, body moving on its own accord. This wasn’t you, it couldn’t be.

“Darlin’, you don’t know what you’re startin’,” Logan growls, his voice thick with warning and something else that you couldn’t quite identify yet.

But you do know. You know exactly what you want, and you’re tired of pretending otherwise. You turn onto your side, pressing your body against his back, your breath hot against his neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly with anticipation.

Logan turns to you with a gentleness that catches you off guard, his hand sliding to your waist with a tenderness that feels almost reverent. He pulls you close, but it’s not with the raw urgency you expected. Instead, it’s slow, deliberate, as though he’s holding himself back by a thread. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, searching for something, perhaps a final permission.

It’s you that closes the gap. The pressure of his lips against yours is gentle, but the undercurrent of need is undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface. You can feel the restraint in every brush of his lips, every measured caress, and it only makes you clench tighter.

Logan’s hands begin to roam, exploring your body with a hunger that has clearly been held back for far too long. He takes his time, fingers tracing every curve, every dip, as if memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch. His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “This is all I could think about out there, in the woods… how you’d feel, how you’d taste.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, a deep flush spreading across your skin. His hands slide up your thighs, teasing the edge of your shirt before slipping underneath, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve. His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, his lips moving down your collarbone, and you realize with a start that you’re trembling beneath him.

You find yourself arching into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Logan’s mouth curls into a smile against your skin, sensing your desperation. “‘s that what you want, darlin’?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that vibrates against your skin, making you shiver. “You want me to take you apart, piece by piece?”

You nod, breathless, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you silently plead for him to stop teasing. “Please, Logan,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

He chuckles softly against your skin, a dark, throaty sound that sends another wave of heat through you. Logan pulls back, his gaze heavy with desire as he sits up. You watch, breathless, as he reaches for the hem of his vest, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The sight of his bare chest visible only by the flecks of moonlight, muscles rippling beneath his skin, takes your breath away (though this wouldn’t be the first time). You reach out, your fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch.

Logan watches you with dark, hungry eyes as he reaches for the waistband of his pants, removing them with deliberate slowness. He seems to take pleasure in the way your breath catches, in the way your gaze follows every movement as he slides them down, revealing the full, impressive length of his dick. Logan is big. It’s not just long, but it’s fucking big. Veiny, girthy and leaking precum at the tip, you can’t help but instinctively bite your lip.

The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your pussy ache for him in a way that’s almost painful. “Logan… please,” you whisper again, your voice barely more than a breath as you look up at him through your lashes.

His gaze darkens, a satisfied smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he finally gives in, his hands moving with purpose as he strips you of your t-shirt. The moment your body is fully exposed to him, Logan pauses, his eyes raking over you with a possessive hunger that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes you in, every inch of you, committing the contours of your body to memory.

When he finally positions himself between your legs, you’re trembling with anticipation, your body aching for him. But Logan doesn’t rush. He takes his time, guiding himself to your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your wetness before he pulls your panties to the side. He watches your face, his gaze dark and intense, as he teases you, pushing just the tip inside before pulling back. Bastard.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough but laced with tenderness, his lips brushing against your ear. “Because once I start, I can assure you; there’s no going back.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him inside you. “I need you inside me.” you whisper, your voice heavy with desire.

Logan growls low in his throat, and finally, mercifully, he pushes inside you, filling you with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you gasp. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch and fullness making your head spin as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. He pauses, letting you adjust, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Then he begins to move, each thrust deep and powerful, driving you both closer to the edge with every stroke. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he moves inside you, his gaze locked on yours as if he’s taking in every expression, every moan, every gasp.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. You do, your eyes meeting his in a drunken haze. You moan, your body trembling beneath him, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. Every thrust, every movement, is perfectly timed, his body attuned to yours in a way that almost didn’t feel real.

“Logan,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. “It’s so… much.”

He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice full of rough affection. “But you can take it,” He spits.

The praise, the way he’s looking at you, it all builds the tension inside you to a fever pitch. His gaze never wavers, holding yours as he moves deeper, harder. You can’t help the soft whimpers that escape your lips, your body tightening around him with each powerful stroke. Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, and he groans, his eyes darkening further as he watches you come undone beneath him.

“Don’t hold back,” he growls, his voice full of animalistic need. “Let me see you, I want it all.”

“Logan… I—” The words catch in your throat as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, your body arching beneath him.

He growls your name, a primal sound full of need, as he moves faster, harder, both you and Logan knew you were close.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his voice ragged, his gaze locked on yours.

And you do. With a cry, you shatter around him, the pleasure crashing over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Logan follows you over the edge, his own release tearing through him as he groans your name.

When it’s over, Logan collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is quiet now, the air thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. You nestle against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The tension that had built up between you over the past few days finally snapped, and here you both are, tangled in the aftermath.

You shift beside him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat. He turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a hint of unease, maybe even regret. “You sure this was okay?” His voice is rough, laced with concern, and that old nickname hangs in the air like a habit he can’t break. “Kid.”

You meet his gaze, holding it, making sure he sees you clearly. “Logan,” you say, your voice steady, “I’m not a kid anymore. You need to stop treating me like one.”

He exhales, a long, controlled breath, as if he’s trying to push down everything he’s feeling. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, the words heavy.

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips as you prop yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “You’re not taking advantage of me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your tone is straightforward, cutting through his doubts. “I wanted this as much as you did. I think, maybe even more…” You trail off.

He looks away, eyes flicking back to the ceiling, his hand finding its way to your back, fingers brushing your skin in a gesture that feels almost hesitant. “I’ve done things... seen things. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s right anymore.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to make sure he feels it, really feels it. When you pull back, you hold his gaze, your voice low but firm. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He’s quiet, his hand tightening on your back just a little, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls you closer, holding you like you’re the one solid thing in a world that’s always shifting beneath his feet.

[rhysazriel]

Feel My Touch [Azriel]

SUMMARY: After Azriel left you high and dry one night, he’s left with the task of coaxing you out of your subspace. (4.2k)

WARNINGS: kissing, teasing, swearing, smut, dirty talk, dom/sub relationship, unprotected sex, very brief mentions of daddy kink 

A/N: in my humble opinion, Azriel and subspace should always go hand in hand together, he is a dom!!

You’d been feeling a little soft the past couple of days. Azriel had been busy most days with gathering information against the mortal queens, leaving you to your own devices until the sun allowed the moon to shine and he loved on you a little. 

You’d been patient, to say the least, and last night he took his frustrations from the day out on you and offered no aftercare to follow.

It was something he’d done (or rather, hadn’t) a few times, but only when he had a bad day or he needed to teach you a lesson – when you’d been a bad girl. Well, you’d been a very good girl so you were awfully confused last night when Azriel fell asleep moments after slipping out of you; not offering any love or care that he usually showered you with after.

You were unable to sleep – too caught in your own head trying to figure out what you did to upset him. Did you forget to do something? Did you say something you wasn’t supposed to? You didn’t know. What you did know was that Azriel very rarely used his real dominant side unless you were in big trouble or he’d had a real bad day.

That strict rule he’d set on himself meant you’d only been in subspace once or twice before and it’d always been something to massively worry Azriel. He was used to seeing his love be this independent, badass female that didn’t let people boss you around. Not watching you mope after him with teary doe eyes and a permanent pout in your bottom lip.

But when you have one of those nights where he is ruthless and mean and doesn’t follow through with any aftercare, you’re left to coil into yourself and drown in this dark hole of submission where you feel like a tiny person that needs constant reassurance and love.  

You’d always been affectionate; you both were–Azriel more so secretly–but when you were in that turmoil state, it was worse. You’d seem like a child that leeched onto his limbs and wanted to sit in his lap while sucking on his fingers as he read a book. You never truly realised you did those things in your sub head because you seemed to disassociate from yourself and into a childlike mindframe.

The first time it happened, Azriel made the situation worse. He thought that by showering you with affection and love, he’d be able to coax you out of it. Unfortunately, it shoved you deeper into your dark hole and took almost three days to get you back to your normal state and frame of mind.

The second time it happened, he tried another approach. He was harsh and mean and demanded that you snapped out of it. It only made you coil into yourself more and for hours, all you could say was, “I’m sorry, Az. I’m sorry I was bad, please don’t hate me!” to which, Azriel’s heart broke and he coaxed you out of it again with a little more love and affection.

Maybe that was why he didn't like to delve too far into the kink very often. He much preferred you as your vibrant and independent self and if he was honest, seeing you in such a subby and insecure state had bile rising up his throat. He hated knowing that he rendered you to a helpless state outside of the bedroom. 

He’d had a long week and he knew he probably should have coddled you to his chest last night and reminded you he loved you, but he was fucking spent and when he awoke this morning to go back out again, you were still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake you.

He hoped to come home to you lounging on the sofa with some snacks or wine waiting for him. But when he rolled home at 7:30 and kicked his shoes off at the door, he was greeted with the complete opposite. There was no warm scent of cookies wafting through the house and the sofa was bare with the cushions placed neatly; like you hadn’t sat down in hours.

Azriel made his way closer into the house with furrowed brows and a twitching nose. He could very clearly smell garlic and a cheesy hint of tomato sauces and meatballs. When he crept into the kitchen, he found you dishing up two plates of your homemade spaghetti and meatballs and popping little garlic dough balls into a side dish.

Your dining table was decorated with wax candles and two tall glasses of wine, the good cutlery put out by their placemats and Azriel was certain he could also smell a hint of caramel chocolate that you’d no doubt baked a cake from. 

His brows were still furrowed as your back stayed turned to him. Your hair was thrown in a messy nest atop your head and you were in nothing but a pair of tube socks and one of his dress shirts.

“What’s all this?” he coughed out to clear his throat and catch your attention. You had both plates in your hands as you spun around with slightly widened eyes and a big, toothy smile. 

“You’re home!” You squeaked, placing the dishes of piping food on the placemats. You reached for him on your tiptoes, pressing a longing kiss to his chapped lips and he kissed back but didn’t let his eyes close like yours did.

“I am, what’s the occasion?” he asked again, hands on your hips as you wrapped your little arms around his broad shoulders. 

His dress shirt rode up your body as you stretched and he could feel the delicate skin of your hips and soft material of your cotton underwear beneath his palm.

You seemed to blush at the question, avoiding making eye contact with him but Azriel tried to chase your line of vision to force it upon you. You tried to shimmy out of his grip but Azriel wouldn’t  have any of it. He gently pinched your jaw with a bent pointer finger beneath your chin and a thumb hovering across your bottom lip.

His head dipped to get a better look at you. There was a barely familiar look in your eyes and it was only when Azriel really looked that he noticed the perk pout in your lips. He should’ve known the second he saw you that something wasn’t right. 

You never pranced around the house in his shirt unless you were sick or  having a lounge day – neither of which were currently happening.

His shadows finally allowed themselves to circle your chest and up to your neck, a few straying to your arms before they returned back to their master. 

You were in subspace.

Azriel let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his wings droop on his back. He knew this was his fault, that he basically shoved you down into that little mindset last night when he left you to sort yourself out and didn’t kiss you goodnight. He knew you were  feeling needy and just wanted to please him.

“Baby…” he cooed, both hands cupping the sides of your face and your plump lips squished slightly between his hold. 

“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore,” you murmured in a slight whine, like the words were stuck in your throat and you were too scared to mutter them out.

Azriel leaned down and kissed softly at your mouth, nudging the tip of his nose against your own. Brushing stray chunks of hair from your face, he pulled back just enough to allow you to look at him. 

“I’m not mad at you, my love. I never was,” he told you in a gentle tone. His words were spoken in a soft drawl – slower than usual to stress how much you needed to listen to him.

You let out a pathetic whine and tears started to pool in your eyes. You wanted to argue that he was, that surely you’d done something to upset him for him to act the way he had. 

Azriel seemed to know what was running through your head. Like you were too worried to speak in case you angered him further or he punished you. 

Punished you outside of the bedroom. Something he’d never done and never would. 

“But I made you dinner to apologise. I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you mad,” you pouted in a frantic state, like you were desperate to show that whatever you did to warrant the cold shoulder after sex last night, you didn’t mean it and you were sorry.

Azriel shook his head and kissed you again. “You didn’t make me mad, angel. You never make me mad,” he mumbled against your lips. 

The look in your eyes suggested you didn’t believe him. That perhaps you were telling yourself that his gentle tone was a trap. That he’d shower you with affection before neglecting you again, right when you believe he wouldn’t. 

“I was mean last night. I didn't take care of you after, did I?” he tried to encourage you to agree, to get you to nod your head but you stayed silent.

“It’s okay, my love. I’m not mad at you, could never be mad at you, baby,” he shushed you. Azriel released his hold on your cheeks and coddled you into his warm chest, pressing comforting kisses to the top of your head as your arms wrapped around his middle.

You didn’t seem to believe him, worried that maybe he was just saying that to coax you to warm back up to him before he punished you. Maybe as soon as you start smiling he’d throw you over his knees and give you a spanking. You were unsure if that’s what your subby mind wanted or not.

Azriel pulled you out of his grasp and held your face again. There was denial swimming in your eyes. You didn’t believe that you had done anything wrong – you didn’t think you deserved to be let off the hook. Azriel squinted and tilted his head a little, trying to read what was going through your head.

Do you want to be punished? Wouldn’t that just shove you further into your submissive headspace?

He knew you, it was best not to entertain the thought of Azriel being above you—being dominant—being daddy. Every other time he’d snapped you from your subspace, he’d had to remind you that he didn’t want his little girl – that he wanted his baby, his fiancé, his strong and independent female. 

He had to remind you that he was Azriel and he wouldn’t respond to you if you didn’t address him as such. But he also had to be careful. If he didn’t go about it the right way, you could fall deeper and it was the last thing he wanted.

He leaned down to kiss at your lips again but you didn’t kiss him back. You didn’t think you should be allowed to. Azriel frowned, his lips smearing against your closed mouth. 

“Why won’t you kiss me back, baby? Just want some kisses,” he pleaded softly, nose bumping yours and he coaxed tiy to open up; to kiss him back just as gently.

“That’s better…” he breathed. 

You let yourself sink into the kiss, your arms wrapping back around his neck as your chest bumped with his. Azriel still had his hands on the sides of your flushed face and they sunk down your body in tender holds. His palms rested on the little dips in your hips as he pulled you closer. Your neck craned up to meet his kisses and he dipped down to keep your touch intact.

An idea sparked in Azriel’s head and his grip on your hips loosened. His hands snaked around to the front of your (his) shirt and he began unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top. You don’t break the kiss or comment on his advances. You let him have his way with you, do what he pleased because you thought this was it: your punishment was just beginning.

But oh, how wrong you were. 

When the shirt slipped from your shoulders and swam at your ankles, goosebumps broke across the surface of your soft skin. Your nipples pearled and they scratched against the material of his leathers. The sensation caused a careless whimper to slip from your mouth, and into his. Azriel tried not to grin at the noise and let his warm, scarred hands run up the expanse of your bare back.

“Feel good, baby?” he mumbled into your mouth, hot tongue sliding against yours and you hummed again, welcoming his heavy taste of coffee and mint. 

Your mind was in a state of turmoil. Was he going to punish you? Was this his way of proving he wasn’t mad? What was he going to do? You can’t think straight.

You nod your head, kissing back with just as much vigour as you could but Azriel slowed the pace, wanting you to just feel him. 

“Just taste my lips,” he guided. 

His mouth moved slowly across yours, touch barely there but enough for you to feel him, to taste him. The gentleness of his touch helped to clear your mind to a state of blankness where you had nothing but him.

From the thumping of the bond that tugged on his chest, Azriel knew what word was festering on the tip of your tongue. His mouth barely caressed you as his left hand came up to massage your jaw. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you before you even spoke, his words a breathless whisper. He didn’t let his eyes close and you didn’t let yours open.

He watched you keen for more, to get a stronger taste and he felt you shiver in just your underwear and tube socks. Azriel allowed his hand to wander to the backs of your thighs before hoisting your small frame into his arms. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his middle, minding the expanse of his wings, and with his lips still on yours, he carried you through the hall and into the bedroom.

He didn't throw you on the bed like you expected. Instead, Azriel slowly eased you back on the balls of your feet while keeping his tongue against your own. 

“Daddy,” you mewled as he backed out of the kiss just enough to unbutton the lapels that contained his weapons to him. 

You felt the rough graze of the leather brush across your nipples and you expected him to blindfold you, to tie you up with the belt that holstered his weapons. But he let it fall to their ankles and you were left in another state of confusion. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you again, nosing at yours and tugging the leathers off his chest. Azriel guided your small hands to his torso, allowing the heat of his skin to warm yours. 

“I’m here, Y/N. Just feel my skin,” he encouraged in a soothing mutter.

He guided your hands across his chest and shoulders, coaxed you to squeeze and grope at his muscles and he started to swell harder in his pants when your thumb brushed over his nipples and fingers reached to lock in the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck. With your mind and hands occupied on his body, Azriel took the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and slip out of his trousers.

He toed off his socks and kicked the clothing to the side; a prominent tent pitched in his boxers and you bravely let your hand fall further down his body. Your wrist knocked against his length through the cotton pants and he stifled a groan. “Please, daddy,” you whispered in a shaky tone against his lips and he could taste the cinnamon bagel you had for lunch.

He subtly shook his head against you, nose bumping yours as he eased you onto the bed – crawling between your parted legs and helping your head to lay back on his pillow. He knew his scent was encompassing your senses and boggling your mind. He also knew it was what would bring you back to him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered softly. 

You’re swarmed by the darkness of his shadows that caress your skin, that whisper gentle reminders that he wasn’t made. Even through the shadows that swarmed you and the dim lighting of the bedroom, Azriel could still see your face – still make out your fluttering eyes beneath closed lids and he urged you to open them.

“Open your eyes, my love. Feel my touch,” he breathed.

His hips were gently rutting against yours, body keeping your thighs parted. Azriel reached a hand between your bodies. He didn’t want to break the touch to take off your underwear, so he opted to pull his aching cock from the waistband of his boxers instead. His tip was oozing with precum that he knew you loved to taste but you can do that later.

Azriel just wanted his love back.

He massaged your dripping core over your knickers, soaking the fabric as you whined desperately at him. Azriel peeled the fabric aside, thumbing at your swollen little clit and he felt your body jolt under his touch. “That's it,” he coaxed encouragingly, rubbing slow circles and you felt his cock bump at your entrance.

You let out a shallow shrill, one that was drowned by the silence of the room and he cooed at you. Azriel had one arm bent by the side of your head to hold up his weight and his hand was angled perfectly for him to brush strands of hair from your clammy forehead. “Gotta come back to me, Y/N. Gotta taste my lips and feel my skin, my love.”

You keen under his touch as Azriel dragged his thick cock to your weeping hole, feeling it flutter against his tip at the anticipation of intrusion. “Shh,” he cooed, circling your entrance before pushing in just a few inches. You gasped against his mouth, welcoming his tongue as he massaged his against yours.

He slowly sheathed in, vision dotted and he tried to muffle his belts of pleasure. You were clamping him down, walls soaked and warm and he felt so fucking snug in your tiny little cunt that stretched around him. 

“So good,” he praised, shuddering breaths across your face and your back arched, your chest out and into his.

“Daddy, please,” you mewled in a soft gasp, eyes wide open but you were staring straight through Azriel, like you didn’t really see him. He shushed you, rolling his lips deliciously and suckling on your tongue. “Come on, Y/N,” he guided. “Come back to me, love. Come back to Azriel.”

His hazel embers were drilling into yours in a gentle manner, like he was trying to get you to find the light in his eyes and swim to it. He tugged on that bond again, surging as much love and force as he could. 

He could feel your heart hammering against his chests and you were clawing at his back when your eyes met. “Yes,” You gasped as his cock hit against your precious little spongy spot.

Azriel grunted and panted above you, a sight so fucking holy toy thought you might’ve gone to heaven. But his thrusts were anything but angelic and his curls and wings were feigning devil horns above his head. 

“Azriel,” you choked, fingernails tearing into the taut skin of Azriel’s shoulders but he fucked into you harder at the mention of his name spilling weakly from your lips.

“That’s it. Just feel me, my love,” he grunted, slick sounds of your pussy squelching and his cock thrusting filled the air. Az’s chest was heavy on yours, a crushing weight that he couldn’t seem to hold up but the touch of his body on yours was what you needed. That push of guidance and pulling of grounding that knocked you into you right mindset.

“Azriel!” You cried again. 

Your voice was much harder, louder – you were more sure of yourself and him and where your mind was racing off to. Your eyes were still locked in an intense gaze and he didn’t know if your body was relaxing because you were close to your release or because you were out of your subby headframe.

You tugged back on that bond, finally, and Azriel could hear the pleads and cries of his name that you echoed through the bridge that connected your souls. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Want you to cum all over my cock, baby. Come on.”

Azriel nipped at your bottom lip, let your tongue run across his gums and lick into his mouth. He could feel your thighs trembling from either side of his body and he kept going.

“Wanna cum! Please, please, please,” you begged, eyes frantic and wide. Azriel’s lips smeared against yours messily, cock sliding easily as you gripped him tighter and tighter. “Cum, baby. You don’t have to ask, just cum,” he promised.”

“Azriel! Fuck, Azriel!” 

Ecstasy washed over you with a shrill cry, eyes shut tight as Azriel met his own release and spilled into you hotly. You squirmed as he stilled, panting and frantic. Your hands were all over his clammy skin as you tried to regain a sense of consciousness.

Azriel’s hands looped around your face, shushing and cooing you to open your eyes, to come back to him. “Hey, shhh. Open your eyes, my love. Come on,” he spurred tenderly, tip of his nose nudging yours as your eyes slowly fluttered open. 

You blinked away the orgamsic blur and a toothy grin sat lazily on your lips.

He waited a beat, tried to decipher for himself whether or not you’d snapped out of it and was back with yourself. 

“Cauldron, you literally fucked it out of me,” you choked out a drunken giggle. 

Azriel let out a sighed laugh, head in the crook of your neck and your eyes were dazzling in post-orgasmic bliss.

“You’re a nightmare,” he joked into your chest, kissing his way up to your mouth. You offered an exhausted giggle, cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment of the underlying situation at hand. 

“I’m sorry, you know. Don’t know why I got like that,” you apologised. You felt a little silly, if you were honest, but Azriel never let you feel that way for long.

He shook his head and kissed your swollen lips again. “Don’t,” he said. “Was my fault for not making sure you were alright after. I normally do, I don’t know why I didn’t last night,” he admitted lowly. 

It was your turn to shake your head and scratch your blunt fingernails through his curls and at his scalp. “Not your fault, we both know how I get sometimes. Thank you, for snapping me out of it.”

Azriel kissed you softly, lips enveloped in a tired kiss as he slipped out of you, both of you hissing at the lack of warmth you offered each other. He sighed as he fell onto his back, sweaty chests cooling from the air. You coddled into his chest, his seed dripping from your sore cunt but you didn’t make any attempt to stop it.

Azriel snorted. “You’re dripping on the sheets.” 

You rolled your eyes at the comment and peeled your body away from his, sitting up to look between your parted thighs. Sure enough, there was a soaked patch just beneath you where arousal was starting to stick to the sheets.

You shrugged. “It’s your cum, not mine,” you argued playfully, shooting fake glares at the culprit. Azriel grinned cheekily at his love, reaching out for you so he could massage at your thigh the way he knew made you relax. 

“Well I do apologise,” he quipped in a playful tone and you hummed, playing into his mood.

“Mhm, you can change the sheets.” You leant down to kiss his cheek before hopping off the bed and padding nakedly to your bathroom. You switched on the light and allowed it to drown out into the bedroom so Azriel could see just how much mess you made. He couldn’t stop the blush that sat heavy on his cheeks.

You peered your head out of the bathroom and Azriel swore his heart fucking grew twice it’s size and he almost forgot how to breath. You had a shy smile on your lips and a look in your eye that he knew all too well. “I know you snapped me out of it but I still want to feel you… can we take a bath?” You asked, eyes hopeful as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

Azriel swallowed back the love that wanted to spew out of his mouth and nodded his head. “You can have anything you want, my love,” he sighed, dreamily. 

He followed you into the bathroom. When the water was drawn just enough and to the perfect temperature, you climbed in together with your back resting against his chest and Azriel’s lips pressed to your neck.

feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[shallyouobeyme]

From the Outside

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)

Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)

Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

Requested by @sol565

TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.

Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you. 

It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through. 

You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights. 

Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.

Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions. 

The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other. 

Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother. 

She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have. 

Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close. 

You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both. 

Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life. 

Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life. 

It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely. 

You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group. 

So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count. 

Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough. 

And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality. 

You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves. 

Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again. 

These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second. 

The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).

Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder. 

“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.

“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events. 

“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched. 

“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.

“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”

“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be. 

Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left. 

“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.

“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?

“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”

A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 7 |

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Perhaps an emotionally stunted softie who can’t communicate after used to being worshipped by everyone?

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: With the School festival coming right up the corner, your class choosing the Maid Cafe and you dressing up as a Maid. Satoru has to pull a few strings of his own. He may not be your bully anymore, he still is a spoiled boy who wants what he wants.

Between the haze of studies, and the workload because of the festival preparation, two weeks had passed. Satoru? Yeah, Satoru has gone more and more normal you'd say. He doesn't bother you apart from the occasional greetings. Sometimes he would smile and wink at you during the cafeteria where you settle with your friends; they are enamoured by the snow-haired king of school. Both the best friends, Satoru and Suguru are so sought out, you are worried it would end up in you getting into trouble because of it. Satoru is hell-bent on giving you the attention you don't need. You don't wish him good morning upfront when you accidentally catch him in the corridors, he does. Never failing it even once. The people who hang out with you have started to taunt you because of it.

"If it was up to me, I would have also spilled my lunch on his shirt. Maybe then he would notice me like he does, you, Y/N." Your eyes roll back a total of 360 degrees. This, this very behaviour was the reason Satoru was able to humiliate you so many times. The reminders aren't needed. The brutal reminders of you wishing you had no school, of you wishing that maybe he would have a change of heart and leave you alone. All because you said he collided against you purposely. Insufferable, Satoru Gojo was truly insufferable.

The cafeteria was echoing with the whispers, laughs, and discussions of your classmates and seniors alike. This was supposed to be festive time of course. Everyone was busy with something. As for you, this was your break. You had just finished giving your sizing for the maid costume. You hope it would look good on you at least, and you would get some memorable pictures. The thought of the School Festival commencing soon makes you giddy. You're not one of those emo loners anyway, you'd rather enjoy. "Hello Y/N san." One of your classmates diverts your attention, your gaze wanders up at him, reflexively shifting in your bench with the tray of your food so he could sit next to you. "Hello!" You chirped, watching him glance at you in a weird way, what's so weird about it? Well, Satoru looks at you the same way, as if you were a movie. You gulped, the stare was awkward. "So, what did you need?" You asked, raising an inquisitive brow. "Uh, nothing, just wanted to ask if you would participate in cooking as well? Some of the girls have been given the opportunity to dress up as maids, the others are going to be cooking." You think about it, this was pre-decided that you would be wearing a maid-costume. When the discussion happened, you were chosen pretty easily for the same.

"Hmm, I don't think I'm a great chef to be honest." You half chuckle, shrugging. The boy nods, gnawing at his lower lip. He seemed, almost nervous. As if he didn't know what to do if you didn't agree with him. "Why? What's the problem?" You asked again, trifling with your food now that your curiosity was piqued. "N-Nothing as such, it's just, you know Y/N there are going to be people from different schools, seniors- and I don't want anyone to hit on you." His cheeks are beet red when he says that. You raise a brow, you don't know how to take it. "Uh, thanks? I can take care of myself. Didn't take me much time to knock a shitty senior out in this very cafeteria?" You lean back, observing his face. He was looking more and more nervous by the passing minute. What is going on? "You know, I appreciate whatever you thought about me, but I can handle myself and take care of myself. Anything else?" You asked politely, unsure why you are being talked-to like you're a damsel in distress who wouldn't be able to take care of herself from hormone raging teens. "Sorry." He pouted, looking down. "I know it must sound like I am trying to control you - but you should remember I only want what's best for you." You want to puke, you barely know the dude. "Do you have a crush on me?" You cut to the chase, this was getting redundant/ "Who? ME?!" He exclaimed, leaning back, stuttering, "N-No of course- I mean, no- not like- Y/N you are pretty." "Thank you, I'm assuming you do have a crush on me?" He shakes his head no, timid again. "I don't want to die by the hands of Gojo san if I become brave and do agree."

Ah, there it is. Gojo San coming and looming in all over you again. "I understand, so you mean he likes me and he doesn't want anyone else to like me else he'll beat their ass?" The boy looked conflicted, should he? Really tell about all that? He wonders about the pros and cons - beaten up by Gojo to a pulp versus being your friend.

"Y/N, please don't discuss this with him." He begs, eyes pleading submissively. You roll your eyes and sighed, fine - you will keep your mouth shut about it. "Yeah, I promise. Won't share anything won't confront him, never heard of it." "He- uhm, ever since he knows that our class is going to do a Maid-café, he's closely supervising things with Shoko san & Geto san." "I never saw him? What do you mean? I never saw him come and check things?" You raised a brow, you were so sure his chapter was a closed one. You barely talked to him apart from having casual small-talk where you both don't ignore each other's existence. "Well, he did. Mostly timed when you were busy, he decided the menu, he interfered with the maid costumes. When everyone was against the long skirts and the full sleeves he threatened that he would have our class not participate at all. When we asked him what we could do so he could let us have some freedom to organize 'our own' activity - he mentioned he doesn't want you as a maid." A broken sigh escapes your classmate when he's done confessing.

You were.. fuming to say the least, every nerve ending pumping with boiling blood. So he is going to make everyone else suffer because he can't have you in a maid costume? "Then?" You raised a brow, this wasn't any conclusion. "Then I said I could talk to you about it, you're pretty and we hoped we would make a lot of money if you were to participate but Gojo San said he could cover the monetary side of it without any issues. Which left us with one final option, you could either opt out of being a maid, or we don't do it."

Ridiculous, fucking ridiculous.

"Why?" You snarled, what the fuck? "Well, because- as he said, he doesn't want other 'men' to look at you and create all sorts of scenarios in their head. He will have to take things on his own hands when that happens - and he wants to avoid that. I mean - avoiding beating up boys and ruin the festival." "Oh how kind, Gojo San is so kind, no?" You scoffed, sighing. Your classmates depended upon you, and you were once again caught in a clutch by Gojo Satoru. He gets what he wants doesn't he? "Tell him that I will be doing maid. Tell him to die mad about it." You got up, hearing the sound of the lunch-end bell and stomping away.

------

Gojo hasn't come back to you, it's been two days. You are sure your classmate had communicated everything to him clearly. Weird. This dude was so fucking weird. You are taut by your own promise to him though, you wouldn't talk to Gojo about it and risk the very foundation with which he trusted you. A lot has been on your mind since, if he likes you, he has no idea how to show it. Besides, doesn't even… matter if he likes you or not. You wouldn't forgive him… right? "Come on, don't be so pouty just because you're losing!" You heard his familiar voice from the basketball court. "Your glasses aren't working properly if you think I'm losing." You heard Geto remark back. Basketball, Satoru and Suguru are playing basketball. You didn't want to be a lurker but you do peek inside, watching the tall hunks play around alone. Every thud of the ball, every chuckle, every snicker and every goal sounding evidently in the echoes of the empty hall. "Peeking's no good." Satoru smirked, looking at you. You have no idea how grateful he is right now. He caught 'you' looking at him. "Sorry-" You mumbled, clearly accepting your mistake when you are at fault, unlike the fucking cafeteria incident. You were NOT at fault back then. "Whatcha lookin' for?" Satoru asked, playing with the ball and dribbling it while walking towards you. "Nothing, just got my 'final' maid costume." You answered, eyes trying their best not to glare at him when you say so. He hums, "Yeah? Gonna be a maid I hear." He cheekily grins. He heard… as if he doesn't know the bits and pieces of everything minutely already. "That's right, 'very excited' for it." You emphasize, and his eyes visibly softened, the pupils humanly dilating and a soft hum escaping him. "Mhm?" "Yeah" You grin back at him, unsure how to continue the conversation further.

Satoru was, dying. He didn't want to become what he was when you two met, and the way you said you were excited about it, he doesn't want to rip that all off because of his own spoiled wishes. It's a complex web of thoughts. On one moment Satoru wants to claim you as his; no one is even allowed to think about you wrongly. Keep you enclosed with him, marry you even? Breed you so you know you're his. Make babies so he gets a perfect blend of you and him. The other bit of him, wants to let you live so he can hopefully become a safe space for you. Help you trust him which he has ruined, show off the person he likes- loves- he doesn't know whether it's like or love yet.

"Well, I'll see you around." You distract him from his thoughts instantly. His lips part and brows furrow a little in resistance, "Well- shyeah."

He glances at Suguru once you leave.  You're going to be a maid and he wouldn't be able to do 'anything' about it when that brings a smile like 'that' on your face.

[deadhands69]

Something More [than an extra]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn afab reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: sex (multiple positions mentioned, slightly intoxicated sex), drinking, swearing, angst if you squint. This is the smuttiest one of the series :)

part 1  -  part 2  -  part 3  -  part 4   -  part 5  -  this is part 6  -  part 7 - part 8

You and Mina sit at the window watching Kirishima and Sato spend over an hour clearing the snow from around the building before Todoroki rolled out of bed at 11am and finished the job in 10 seconds flat. You haven't told her what happened last night, but the way she keeps looking at you tells you she somehow already knows.

“Soo are you going to tell me about your night??”

“My night?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“Yeah, I was in Kiri’s room,” she states simply, before making it more clear: “they're neighbors.”

“I- Oh,” there’s no use denying it. You make a mental note to ask her about her own night being in a boys room that late, but you know she won’t let you dodge the question.

“I'm still not sure how I feel about it,” you rub where he bit the back of your shoulder while staring out the window. “It was fun and I guess it's good to let off some steam. But it's weird. Last week I hated him,” you laugh. 

“Things change!” Mina smiles, “no one said you had to hate him forever. And if he makes you happy, I'm glad you're enjoying it.”

“It was fun but knowing him, it's not happening again. I don't think he does that sort of thing. Besides, I thought you called him a red flag? When did that change?”

“For most people, he is. Don’t tell Jiro I said this, but I think you guys would be really cute together!” her cheerfulness giving you unwanted twinges of hope.

“It’s really not like that,” you assure her, mostly reminding yourself.

A one time thing.

32 Days Later

A one time thing? Yeah, right. you laugh thinking back on the last month. 

It’s mid-February and you find yourself in that same corner of the common room on a late Saturday morning. Your friends are both absent - you’d helped them pick outfits for their dates last night so you know they’re both in their rooms getting ready. Mina and Kirishima had been dating for a month (or longer? None of you were quite sure when that started and they wouldn't explicitly say.) Kaminari had only worked up the courage to ask Jiro on a date two days ago. You’re excited for them both and also happy for the morning to quietly reflect on life: something you haven’t had time for recently.

Taking a sip of coffee, you think of when you told Mina about Katsuki Bakugo the first time. It feels strange now, knowing you’ve spent more nights with him than not since then. At this point, it's almost a routine. 

It always starts the same.

Sometime between 8 and 10pm, he texts you. “Hey.” “You up?” Once he just texted “🍆?”, he’s lucky that one made you laugh. 

Rain or shine, any time of the month - it didn’t matter. Like clockwork, you’d almost come to expect it. At this point, you’ve stopped changing into your pajamas, knowing there’s no point when you will most likely be changing back into clothes to walk across the building in anyways. 

Usually, you go to his room. Occasionally, he’ll come to yours. 

Sometimes the two of you will pretend to watch a movie or other things friends do together, but you always know where it’ll lead. 

Within twenty minutes, he’s grabbing your hair with his tongue buried in your mouth. Shortly after that, whether you're standing or on the bed, he's pressing into you from behind - one hand wrapped around you, the other still tangled in your hair. 

Your phone vibrates in front of you, some social media notification. Pulling it up, your whole feed is pink and full of hearts. 

Only now did you realize it’s Valentine’s day. How had that not come up at all while helping your friends pick outfits?

Maybe it did, you've always blocked this stupid holiday out. 

Doesn't matter, you think to yourself. Not like you're spending it with anyone. It'll be just another day, with any luck a quiet one. 

And it is. 

You spend the next six hours in your usual spot, working your way through a book. At some point, you realize you'd been trying to read the same paragraph for twenty minutes but your mind keeps drifting off. 

Back to him.

Always back to him. 

Privately, he's not as explosive as you'd known him before. That's not to say he's particularly gentle either. 

The way his hands grip your hips, pulling you into him while he pounds you from behind. You're almost always covered in slight bruises but you notice he's careful to avoid grasping the darker ones.

How his teeth find your lips in every kiss. At first you found this weird, now you've come to expect it. Feeling a rush seeing him grin in public, knowing exactly what those teeth do to you. 

How hard (and often) he makes you cum. You've spent hours in his room where he'd fuck you until you could barely stand - your body convulsing under his touch, pressed tightly against him. His hands holding you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. 

All that, then you'd leave. Not that you always wanted to. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to fall asleep with him, his strong arms wrapped around you as he breathes gently into the back of your neck. 

Of course, he’d never explicitly asked you to leave, but you understand the situation well enough to know when it’s time to go. So does he.

Maybe it's the lingering cold weather making you want for more coziness or maybe this stupid holiday got to you. Today, you find yourself wanting more than what it is. 

Eventually, you go back to your dorm room. Still thinking about him. 

You know Bakugo isn’t busy on a date, he doesn’t do stuff like that (plus, you spent most of the day in the common space watching everyone come and go so you’re almost certain he didn’t leave his room today.) Your expectations for hearing from him are low though - you also understand that he probably doesn’t want to text his fuck buddy to come over on a romantic holiday and give the wrong impression. The clock strikes ten and you change into sweatpants to get ready for bed.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Rushing to the door, you hope it’s not one of your friends after a bad date. To your surprise it’s- 

“Bakugo, hi?” your voice is tentative and a bit confused. To be honest, you don't mind seeing him at your door on Valentine's day you just didn't expect to. 

“Hey Backfire, I figured you’d be awake. You always stay up way too late,” he grumbles before glancing down at the open bottles of champagne in his hands. They're two different brands. “Uh, my friends opened these with their dates before they left and dropped off the leftovers outside my door.” He presses the more full bottle into your hands before taking a swig off the other, “drink it, I’m not finishing these on my own.”

You laugh, gesturing him in. 

He isn't quite drunk but his cheeks are more flushed than usual, making the scar under his eye stand out. It's cute, in a rough way. Like him. 

Taking a sip, you check out the label. It’s fancy, pink, and tastes sweet. You would guess Kirishima bought this one to impress Mina.

Bakugo is working through a bottle of Cooks; that has Kaminari written all over it. 

Curiously, you tell him your guesses. 

“That is correct,” he lays on your bed, one foot folded over his knee with the hand holding the bottle resting over the edge. “Soy Sauce Face left some too but I finished that one before I walked over.”

“Wait, Sero is on a date?” you can’t help but laugh a bit, he’s nice but you can't really picture it.

“Yeah, all those dumbasses were really excited for this stupid holiday,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s fine - free champagne for us,” you say, trying to steer the conversation out of the awkward direction you could see it heading. Sitting on the bed beside him, you bring the bottle back to your lips. 

There's a momentary pause, but that's okay with him. He's just quiet sometimes. It's funny, you weren't really sure when you even became friends but now you know all of his little conversational habits. 

“Yeah, idiots.” he says finally. 

The conversation flowed easier from there. Both of you agreeing it's a bad excuse for a holiday (although, you are excited for day-after candy sales.) You talk about school and the classes you're each taking. He tells you about his hero work. Before you know it, you're sharing childhood stories. The two of you end up talking about life for what feels like twenty minutes, but the clock on your desk indicates it's well past midnight. 

Bakugo is quiet again. There's nothing but the sound of people giggling outside in the distance and your favorite band playing at a low volume. It's comfortable. He's scrunched up on your bed, head resting on on his arm while he gazes out the window. The dim light from your small lamp illuminates his face perfectly. His resting face looks angelic, a fact that used to make you cringe but now it gives you other ideas. 

Leaning over, you tip his jaw towards you to press your lips onto his. He tastes sweet. Kissing him gently, you wish you could stay like this all night but you aren't sure if that would be okay in your arrangement. So, you push for more. You climb over his lap to straddle him. Normally, he's the one in charge but he doesn't seem to mind this. His big ruby eyes peering up at you, slightly glazed over from the champagne. 

This time feels different. The way he kisses you is less frantic. Still passionate, but not as rushed as usual. 

Rolling your hips into him, his hands slide down your back to press you down harder. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, grinding into him with all of your weight. He arches his hips into you, still gripping your lower back. 

God, his eyes are so fucking beautiful when he looks up at you like that. 

His hands glide up your back, taking your shirt with them. You do the same, pulling off his hoodie and tank top like you've wanted to most of the night. The skin to skin contact feels warm as he drags you back down to keep making out with him. 

Eventually, he rolls you onto your bed and sits back on his legs. Your fingers trace his now apparent bulge, his cock painfully straining to be released from the sweatpants and boxer briefs confining it. He removes both. You follow suit, throwing your own clothes over the edge of the bed. 

Normally, he'd prep you with his fingers but you've been grinding against him for half an hour now and you're desperate for release. 

Crawling over your bed, you reach into your bedside table for a condom. Bakugo is already behind you, continuing the friction you'd built up all night. 

His hand reaches to take it from you but you're feeling bold. There's something you've always wanted to try. 

Ripping the wrapper off, you put the latex to your mouth - sucking the tip in. It doesn't taste great but is so worth the mild aversion to see the look on his face when you wrap your lips around his dick and slide the condom over his length. Jaw still slack, he stares down at you in amazement before letting out a half laugh. The subtle light glints on the tips of his teeth. 

Regaining composure, he shoves you back onto your bed. The sheets feel cool in contrast to his warm body climbing over you. 

“You sure you're ready,” he murmurs into your ear, “I can-”

“Need you in me now,” you whisper back, lining him up with you. 

He nods. 

With a grunt, he shifts closer and presses into you. You feel yourself expand, clenching around him while he begins to move. 

He stays close. Arms wrapping around yours, caging you to the bed while the skin of his stomach softly grazes yours. Your hands find his back, scratching lines over his scars to pull him closer. You want to last longer but the build up is too much. 

Pleasure surges through your body; you feel it rush all the way down to your toes. You're riding it out, gasping into his chest while you feel yourself fluttering around him. He follows quickly, throwing his face into your shoulder. 

His voice is breathy as he presses his lips into your neck.

“[y/n]”

part 7

m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki @arsonfrogger @dragonscribble @kalulakunundrum

@screaming-dough @rikislove

[v0rpalsword]

On Calling Out Antisemitism... in the Crossword

So I like to do crosswords. It's fun, sometimes I learn random facts, it exercises my brain, and that jolt of satisfaction when I figure out the gimmick brightens my day. I usually do it on the Washington Post, which is the same as the LA Times, mainly because it's free (though these days I pay for the WP in large part because I like Alexandra Petri's pieces, but I digress.)

So there I am, working on the Sunday crossword at work on a quiet Monday morning, and the clue is "sanctimonious sort." Could be many things, I skip it and continue. Slowly, as I get some of the crosses, I say to myself, "surely this isn't going to be 'pharisee'. I'm gonna be so mad if the answer is 'pharisee.'"

The answer was Pharisee.

If you don't know why that's a problem, in brief: The Pharisees were the precursors to modern Rabbinic Judaism, and that word has been used by those enacting violence upon us for centuries-- throughout blood libels, Inquisition, crusades, expulsions, etc. When "pharisee" means "sanctimonious, hypocritical, self-righteous, etc." and "pharisee" also means "Jew" even of the historic variety, it tends to be extremely bad news for the actual living Jews of whatever era it is.

So I wrote the editors of the LA Times and the Washington Post, and I said so. I told them about the history of the term. I told them that at a time when antisemitism across the United States is rising alarmingly, it is, at best, deeply irresponsible of the newspapers to allow this insidious conflation of Judaism with moral corruption and hypocrisy to appear in what ought to be a light-hearted game.

And you know what? I got a response from the LA Times within hours apologizing for the harm and saying they'd reached out to the crossword writing company to discuss it. I got a response from the acquisitions editor, who had spoken with the crossword editor, conveying their sincere apologies, saying that they were unaware of the antisemitic implications of the term, and they would never intentionally cause harm. They thanked me for bringing it to their attention, and also thanked me for my suggestion of an alternate clue ("Contemporary of Jesus").

We on Jumblr and in the Jewish community offline have spent so much time talking our throats hoarse and our typing fingers sore about the harms of antisemitism, especially since October 7. I know many of us are feeling frustrated, burnt out, and hopeless. We start to wonder what the point is, when none of it seems to be making a dent. I almost didn't send that email. I almost let it go. I let myself be distracted by work, forgot about it for a week or so until something reminded me and I got angry all over again, and then I sent off an email that I expected to be buried in the inbox to maybe get a response in a month or so, because even if it never got read, at least I knew I had written it. But it did get read, and it got shared with the relevant people, and they cared.

Sometimes people listen. Sometimes they learn. Sometimes, all it takes is one person saying "hey, this hurt me."

I'm taking the win today.

[koiiiji]

random nsfw headcanons

tw ; nsfw, maybe a little ooc (esp with Jonggun, but idc we need to comfort him after shiro oni arc 🤓🙂‍↕️)

starring ; Jonggun, Gongseop, Jinseong

Jonggun is a really passionate lover. as soon as he fall in love he doesn’t let it go. he is fervent and a little too persistent. as he had you in his hands in his bed don’t expect him to let you go. he is passionate and ardent during sex. his hands wander over your body, from your ribs, sliding higher, forcing you let go of blankets, interlacing his fingers with yours, making his bigger palm press your hands into mattress. he catches your every sigh, moan and squeak, giving you sloppy kisses, so a thin thread of saliva connects your mouths. Jonggun is giving you your time to adjust to his rough hands, to his harsh touches — he is not used to soft and delicate skin like yours. his hands are for distraction and fights, so he would pause when he feels you flinch under his hands. he always starts from being gentleman like this, but it always ends up with both of you being cock and pussy drunk, already over enough orgasms but you two just can’t have enough of each other! Jonggun is passionate and warm lover, but god bless you if you are just one night stand…

Gongseop not only fake monk, but also pervert monk. you and him used to know each other for quite awhile. not like your relationship was the warmest, and you never was frequent guest in his temple, you still had your things to do, but every time you happened to be in his bed things became more and more hot. just like the last time, when you saddled his hips, and your own body was moving so smoothly, like snake, searching for more friction, pursuing only your own pleasure. your hands roving over his chest, running his hair through your fingers, lightly moving up to his neck and the back of his bald head, digging your claws into his skin, and hissing softly when his own hands squeezed your firm ass too tightly. Gongseop could try to convince people that he had changed since the first generation, but you could recognize the same nasty smirk when you nipped at his bottom lip in response to his slap. you could recognize it just by his look, a little pitiful, when his lips were open, and hoarse grunts spread throughout the room, and you pulled another orgasm out of him. yes, he could convince people that he had changed, as much as he wanted, but you knew him and his body better than you would like.

who is sexually concerned? Lee Jinseong. the amount of unreleased adrenaline and arousal after his box trainings are insane. and his hormones are not playing on his side too. he is ready to fuck almost 24/7, yet he have his romantic side so he desperately trying to take his time with preparing and making out, but his cock is aching so badly and his balls are just too heavy so he needs your help as soon as possible. you understand his state right? you won’t say no to this desperate puppy, right? but don’t tease him or think he is wrapped around your finger. sure Jinseong is gentle, but during the sex, especially when he is spurred on, he won’t tolerate your brat behavior, and will turn you on your tummy just to mercilessly pound you into his bed, murmuring dirty words (he will turn red if you remind him about this in the morning)

[seeingivy]

brutal

eren jaeger x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

--

[busstopbilly]: My song recommendation for the day is brutal by Olivia Rodrigo. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i beg ur pardon….

[lizontopoftheworld]: first of all. CRAZY choice for 7:47 am. who hurt you? 

[busstopbilly]: Car troubles. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: second. how do u know this song…. do u talk to other girls…. 

[busstopbilly]: Does my little sister count? She’s the one who told me about the song. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: ok period never mind. so she’s basically a real one for 1. listening and 2. putting you on 

[busstopbilly]: Would it bother you if I did? 

[busstopbilly]: Talk to other girls? 

[busstopbilly]: :) 

that was always the line that the two of you toed. on a day to day basis – making jokes about the one thing that you never seemed to talk about. 

that things, at least on your end, felt dangerously real at times. that when someone at the bar asked you if you were seeing anyone, your first thought would always be yes. because it felt wrong to say no. 

you were convinced that if you knew him in person, he’d be your boyfriend. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: DO YOU? 

[busstopbilly]: I can say it again. Would it bother you if I did? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: tbh wait

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re obviously your own person. i was obviously just joking AND if you are talking to someone else it wouldn’t bother me. that doesn’t affect the fact that we’re friends and talk to each other here and there AND i would be very happy for you if you did because you deserve it 

that was the other thing. anonymity always presented a certain fear. that one day, he would stop responding. 

and that he’d be lost to you forever because you’d never be able to find him again. no identifying features, a vague username, and the conversations left as a reminder. 

[busstopbilly]: Wow. It usually takes the 3 o’clock slump to get you rambling about how we as people are deserving of the good, honest love. What gives? 

[busstopbilly]: For what it’s worth, no, I do not talk to other girls. Besides my sister and my mom, obviously. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: YIPEEEEEE 

[busstopbilly]: What happened to “that wouldn’t bother me”? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: ….next question. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: your sister seems cool. can i meet her someday? 

[busstopbilly]: Hilarious. 

[busstopbilly]: Yes, you can. 

you’re thrown out of the conversation by three consecutive honks – and sasha waving her arm out the car door – as you shoot one last message. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: my ride is here! have a great day billy boy :D 

you close your phone as you climb into sasha’s car, noting the two iced coffee cups in the holder, as you shoot her a smile. 

sasha offers to drop you off at the hospital on the way to the lab. 

it’s something that she does often – suggest that you run errands with her, study with her at the cafe, walk together to the lab. there’s moments where you feel bad about it, that she dictates the friendship so much, because you’re never one to suggest it at first. 

it’s not your fault that this aspect of friendship felt like it was foreign to you. or that it seemed like something you’d never be able to overcome. 

you didn’t grow up with friends that functioned like family. they always felt more transactional – though that was almost by design, on your part. 

“good morning sash.” 

“nico made you a coffee!” 

you smile. 

“awful kind of him.” 

sasha gives you a smile as she hunches over the wheel, looking over her shoulder, as she turns on to the street. 

“he just feels bad about the party you know…when he…” 

“threw up all over my shoes? yeah. i recall.” 

“he’s sorry! and he made you a sweet iced hazelnut coffee to make up for it.” 

you smile, shaking your head as you reach for the aux cord in her car. 

sasha had a penchant for being indecisive, a little bit too stuck in the situation sometimes, down to the details. you knew deep down that niccolo probably didn’t care much about the vomit and hadn’t thought about it since – and that she was trying to save imaginary face by gifting you a coffee in his name. 

it was hard for her to participate in things normally, in her words, with people who felt like they were high stakes. 

it was one of the reasons that she loved to hang out with you. she said it was easy to tell that you didn’t care much about that type of thing in the first place.

you wondered if it was a compliment – that you were so palatable to people’s taste. or a comment on how you felt so adaptable that there was nothing rigid or cemented about your personality to warrant a second thought.

“oh wait. this is an olivia rodrigo song right?” sasha asks. 

“yeah.” 

“aren’t her songs like…like really sad?” 

“i guess. a good amount of them are.” 

“i hate sad music. it just makes me so….so…” 

you try not to laugh. 

“sad?” 

sasha rolls her eyes. 

“you know what i mean. i listen to the song and then i start thinking about how i relate to it. and then i start wallowing.” sasha comments. 

“i do that too.” 

“god, isn’t it such a waste of time? sometimes it’s like…so overwhelming that it takes over my entire day. i can’t do anything but sit there and just feel it all.” 

and there was the key difference between you and sasha. it always made itself apparent, in almost every interaction that you had with her, but it said more about the way your rotten mind was wired to work, than her temperament. 

she seemed to repel the idea of sadness. you wallowed in it.

it was something that you thought about often when you looked at sasha. when you looked at yourself in the mirror. that her smile seemed to fit perfectly on her face – bright brown eyes that lit up whenever she talked, two dimples that were always visible on her cheeks, and an infectious smile.  

sometimes you felt like light didn’t fully reach the center of your eyes. that your smile didn’t look right on your face – that it did, but it just didn’t look like hers. infectious. encouraging and warm. 

that sadness sat in all of your wrinkles and lines and that it was there to stay. that no matter how you tried, it would always be there. 

“yeah. i’ll change it. bad start to the morning.” you state. 

“plus, you need all the luck you can get.” 

you groan. 

“don’t remind me please.” 

eren didn’t seem too happy to have you involved in his project. and that made two of you. 

you could appreciate that he was organized – scheduling mandatory meetings a week in advance, letting you bring his undergrad since he was bringing his – and never sparing you a second glance beside it. 

what you couldn’t appreciate was that he didn’t seem to want your help at all. you understand why it was warranted, especially for someone like him. you knew for a fact that he would have zero shred of bedside manner, no way to interact with patients that was sensitive or appropriate – since he couldn’t even seem to do it with normal people. 

making comments about jean and sasha, refusing to talk to anyone besides levi and hange at dinners, being so arrogant about the entire thing that he thought he was above it. 

you wonder how him and grisha jaeger were even related. 

you reach for the coffee, trying to banish the thought and the impending irritation that arose from the thought of both of them combined, just for it to consequently spill all over your top. 

“oh my god.” 

one of the ice cubes slithers all the way down the bottom of your shirt, landing in your lap, as you miserably eye the horrendous dark brown stain coating your white button up shirt. it sends a wave of goosebumps down your skin – the stickiness of the syrup and the ice cold liquid, as you can’t help but groan. 

sometimes it felt like these types of things only happened to you. 

“sasha.” 

“he must have not closed the lid properly. he didn’t do it on purpose!” 

you turn to glare at her. 

“i mean, obviously not. do you have napkins? or a spare shirt by the grace of god?” 

“napkins are in front in the glove box. and no…niccolo just took all my shirts out the other day so he could wash them.” 

you give her a wry smile. 

“of course he did.” you joke. 

“i swear to god. he didn’t mean it!”

the napkins do little to fix the mark – except smear it farther across the fabric – as you give her a dry laugh. 

“i know. relax.” 

“you’re not mad right?” 

“no. just anticipating some comment from eren about dress code and professionalism, that’s all. if anything, that makes my entire thing easier since he can’t pick on something else i was doing wrong that i was seemingly blissfully unaware of.” 

you give up after two minutes of dabbing, most of the wetness drained from the shirt and the stick gone from your sing, as you turn to sasha. 

“what are you going to work on today?” 

“mikasa’s project. well mine, but hers, you know?” 

“yeah. does she at least seem excited about it?” 

“i mean, it’s insane experience to have as a project lead. i don’t know why she wouldn’t get in the next time.” 

“that’s true. plus, six spots and none of the people in the program are affiliated with the lab so, she has a good shot.” 

“i just hope she gets it. i would end up on the news if i got rejected as second time after putting in all that work.” 

sasha rolls right up to the front of the hospital – and you note that she awkwardly eyes the stain – as you give her a smile. you can see eren sitting at the front bench, gabi and falco sitting by his side, as you swallow down the contempt in your mouth.

you clear your throat, catching all of their attention, as you note all of their expressions. gabi and falco have a total pinch of pity in both of their eyes and eren just looks irritated as they eye the stain.

“you have to be kidding, right?” eren asks. 

“sasha drove me here and her…boyfriend didn’t put the lid on the coffee properly. it’s not my fault.” 

“do you have another shirt?” eren asks. 

“obviously not. you think i’d show my face before his excellency without it?” you ask. 

that earns you a laugh from falco and gabi, who you turn to give a smile to, before looking back to eren. he rolls his eyes, making a dramatic show of pinching the bridge of his nose, as he digs into his pocket. 

“this is your badge. maybe we can get you one of those bright pink shirts from the gift shop.” 

“eren. don’t be a dick. just give her your shirt.” gabi states. 

erwin had decided to pair gabi with eren and falco with you, just based on compatibility and interests, and it was one of the reasons that you had utter faith in erwin as a leader. 

gabi had a penchant to keep eren on his toes. she wasn’t exactly afraid of his bitter personality, but instead, very eager to win him over. 

it reminded you of when you first met eren and thought you could do the same. though unlike gabi, you quickly decided that it was a lost cause. 

“what?” 

“you’re wearing an undershirt, aren’t you? just give her the button up.” gabi states. 

“gabi. wearing a short sleeved t-shirt here isn’t exactly professional.” eren responds. 

“you know what’s even more unprofessional? letting one of your team members look bad when you can help them. no offense, y/n.” 

you smile. 

“none taken.” 

“they’re going to give us white coats that’ll cover up your arms. but it won’t cover up the stain, so just be a gentleman, and give her your shirt.” gabi states. 

eren gives her a menacing glare – though you think that he just looks like that, that it can’t intentionally be by design to look so hateful all the time – while he ponders the thought. he must have a soft spot for gabi or something, probably something that reminds him of the sister you’ve heard briefly about, as he reaches down and starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

“falco, gabi. go check in at the desk at the front.” 

you watch as the two of them scuttle off, giggling under their breaths as they run through the round-a-bout doors. you turn to eren, who hands you the shirt, as you shoot him a smile. 

“thank you, eren. i really appreciate it.” 

“next time, anticipate being prepared.” 

you roll your eyes. was it impossible for him to be polite? 

“do you want me to carry a spare of every article of clothing for me in the off chance that i spill something on myself?” 

“off chance is a little kind. it literally happened just now.” eren mutters. 

you bite down on your cheek as you put his shirt on, tucking in the excess fabric into your pants. you unclip his badge from the shirt and hand it over to him, as the two of you join falco and gabi at the elevators. 

eren clears his throat as the four of you enter the elevator, shooting gabi a look, as she drops her conversation. you turn to falco and give him an eye roll – your frustrations with eren well known to him – as falco steps back and joins you. 

“gabi. what’s a lesion?” 

“areas of damaged brain tissue. all the patients we’re seeing today got their brain lesions from injuries that they got, but you can also get lesions from certain diseases.” gabi repeats. 

you hate that eren does this. makes her learn through fear of disappointing him. falco told you that she spent all of her free time outside of the fellowship memorizing as much as she could to make sure that she would get all of his questions right. 

“what region are we looking at today?” eren asks.

“hippocampus this week. amygdala next week, but there’s a focus on the temporal lobe.” 

you spare yourself as you tap falco on the shoulder, lowering your voice. 

“how’s your brother doing?” 

falco gives you a shrug, as you reach forward and squeeze his shoulder. two week ago, you gave him the entire week off because his brother got into a car accident – and from what levi had told you, he had yet to recover. 

“same old.” 

“if you need anything, can you let me know?” you ask. 

falco awkwardly reaches for the back of his neck, pushing down the ends of his hair, as you exit the elevator. 

“i’ll let you know, okay?” 

you give him a nod as you catch up to eren and gabi, the two of them holding out the white coats to you as you pull them on and walk into the briefing meeting. 

--

the day goes well for the most part. you’re counting your lucky stars through the training that it’s mostly basic procedures, sanitation rules and the such, and you’re just going through the motions. 

it goes well for the most part, until the very end. and it’s almost like you can anticipate it – eren having a horrible interaction with someone that would put you off – that it’s almost laughable. 

you interact with one patient at the end of the day, just to screen if they wanted to participate in eren’s study. and of course, he has to push the limits and ask a question that goes too far. 

it just bothers you that it was gabi on the chopping block. 

“okay, the patient’s name is gabriela alvarez. she’s from the area, she got injured in a motor cycle accident. her family isn’t here since they all had work, so it’ll just be her. we’re just going to walk in, ask her if she wants to participate in the study, and then fill out screening forms. if she declines, we’ll just leave.” 

you all give him a nod. 

“gabi. what is it?” eren asks. 

“what? nothing.” gabi responds. 

“you made a face when i just said that. is there a problem?” eren asks. 

you hate the tone. he could have just asked her if something was wrong – not insinuating that she had a problem. 

“no, eren. i’m good. i’ve just never done this before.” gabi states. 

“don’t worry. that’s why y/n and falco are here. they have experience with this type of thing.” eren states. 

you and falco turn towards gabi, giving her a smile. 

“we can lead for this one if you wanted? just so you could see how it goes?” you ask.

gabi shakes her head, immediately turned off by the thought, as she gives you both a halfhearted smile back. 

“no, no. i got it, i’m here for a reason.” 

you swallow down the retort as the group of you walk in. that her not taking the lead wouldn’t insinuate that she wasn’t meant to be here. that she could learn without being put on the spot.

despite the fact, eren seems to lead the entire thing. gabi doesn’t have to worry about talking, because eren barely lets her get a word in – with a prerehearsed spiel you’re convinced he practiced in the mirror. 

“we would really appreciate if you could participate in the study. it’s totally optional, but it would really help us better understand the nature of the injury and help other people in the future.” eren finishes. 

arrogance. 

the lady’s barely forty years old, a kind smile like sasha’s – sweetness that melted into her skin – and it made your chest pang that she seemed confused. sitting in a hospital room, alone. listening to people like eren jabber all day, with no one to consult or talk to for advice. 

and there’s silence, an awkward silence where she’s supposed to respond, and after the fact, she turns to look at gabi. 

“you guys would take my information?” she asks.

“it’s all removed when we analyze it.” gabi offers. 

“but…but there would be record of all my information and such that i did it?” 

gabi sighs. 

“no one can have access to it. it’s just so that we note down who did the experiment, that the results weren’t falsified.” 

gabriella seemes turned off by the idea entirely, shaking her head. 

“i would love to help, but…but you know i can’t.” 

you watch as she bores her eyes into gabi’s – and shockingly enough – that she reaches forward and grabs her hand. 

“i know. i’ll talk to them about it. i’ll see you later, okay?” she murmurs, quiet enough that you can barely hear it. 

eren turns to you, giving you a questioning look, as you shrug. the four of you subsequently leave the room and eren doesn’t waste a single second in the hallway. 

“do you know her?” eren asks. 

gabi gives him a nod, barely meeting his eye. 

“yeah. yeah, she’s friends with my mom. they’ve known each other for a while.” 

“so you know why she won’t do it?” eren asks. 

you nudge him in the side. 

“you can’t coerce people into participating, eren.” you note. 

“i’m not coercing her. i just want to know so that we can keep it in mind for future patients. change up how i market the entire thing. why won’t she do it?” eren asks. 

you watch as gabi gives him a nervous look, eyes flickering in between him and falco, as she scrunches up her shoulders. 

“gabi. you obviously don’t have to answer. don’t feel the need to share anything too personal.” you offer. 

gabi gives you a smile before turning back to eren and it’s almost like you can see it in her face. that she’s folding. 

“she met my mom through the church that we go to. she also gave my mom a contact for an agent that can help her apply for...citizenship. she’s undocumented, like my mom is, and that’s why she won’t do it. if the reviewers look into the validity of the study and look into her status, she…” 

“they wouldn’t do that.” eren offers, voice almost quiet. 

gabi sighs. you swear there’s a glistening sheen in her eyes. 

“i know. but she doesn’t know that. there’s a fear that comes with this type of thing and…” 

it hits a nerve. it hits a nerve and you think it’s horrible – you think eren’s horrendous for putting her on the spot like that, for questioning her further – and you hate him for it. 

“okay, gabi. well, we’re done for the day anyways, so do you want to go get the car?” eren asks, holding the keys out in front of her.

she gives eren a smile, as she nods and takes them from him. you turn to falco, giving him a beckon to follow her, as he shoots you a grateful smile and speed walks behind her. the two of you watch as they wave from behind the elevator, before you note the empty hallway, and turn back to eren. 

“you’re an asshole.” you state. 

eren looks up from the file in his hand, eyes wide, as he looks up at you. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“i know you heard me. you’re an asshole. you had no right to push her into sharing something that was obviously personal for her. and you have no right to be so hard on her all the time.” 

eren flips the folder shut, tucking it under his elbow, as he digs his hands into the pockets of his white coat. you can tell that he’s irritated – that he can’t hide the malice in his eyes – and it drives you insane. 

that he still has the audacity to be mad. 

“i’m hard on her?” he asks. 

“of course you’re hard on her. she spends all of her free time memorizing useless facts that teach her shit about what it’s like to do research. you should be supporting her, asking her questions that encourage her to explore what it is that we’re doing on our own, why we made the experiment the way that we did. you have to know that this does nothing for her.” 

eren rolls her eyes. 

“and you want me to do what? coddle her like you coddle falco?” 

“excuse me?” 

“you don’t need to walk him through every line of code that he writes. he can find articles to read and explore on his own, you’re setting him up with bad expectations that he’s going to find easy help when he has to do this on his own.” 

“is there something so wrong with that? getting help? god forbid i give him a good foundation on the things he has to know before putting him in the deep end.” 

eren rolls his eyes. 

“being helpless is how you learn.” 

you glare at him. 

“you might get off on that type of thing, but i certainly don’t.” 

“what type of thing?” 

you sigh, balling your fists at your side, as you try to stop your voice from wavering. 

“she’s been trying to vye for your approval since she met you – and…and you kept asking. you made her feel like she had to give that to you, so that she could get points. it’s cruel and senseless, using something like that against someone. especially when it’s something…a situation that’s so foreign to you. you have no idea what it’s like to struggle like that. and on top of that, you’re going to be an asshole and make her get your car? so yeah, you get off on that type of thing. acting like you’re better than people, like you have a right to know, because you’re important.” 

eren sighs. 

“and what makes you think i didn’t know already?” eren asks. 

“what?” 

“i know you heard me. what makes you think that i didn’t know already? because gabi actually told me one of the first days that she got here. i’ve known for some time because she’s actually trusted me enough to tell me – not because i cornered her into it for brownie points.” 

eren seems to lean closer, looming over you as he looks down at you. 

“i don’t coddle gabi, because that’s something that doesn’t motivate her. the same way it’s something that doesn’t motivate you. i know damn well from the way you look at sasha and hange, hange and annie, that you think that it’s something you want. being buddy buddy the way hange is with us. but i’ve known from the second i met you, that you live for that type of thing. proving yourself, having to work for someone’s approval, because it won’t motivate you otherwise, the same way it won’t motivate gabi. there’s a reason that you got paired with levi, y/n. there’s a reason you’re so pissed off watching her work for it – because you have some insecure sense of self worth that you don’t deserve to be here and you’re scared she feels that way too.”  

you swallow down the bile in your throat. 

“are you watching me or something?” 

“only because you irritate me just as much as i irritate you. don’t think that i don’t turn my nose up at everything you say and that i don’t notice that you do it to me too.” eren responds. 

you bite so hard into your cheek that you swear you draw blood. 

“are you done? how long did that one take to rehearse in the mirror?” 

eren clenches his draw. 

“no. i’m not the asshole that makes his undergraduate student get his car. i got a flat tire and she offered to drive me here. i had her key, because her pants don’t have pockets.” eren responds, stalking towards the elevator, as you begrudgingly follow. 

it’s an awkward elevator ride down, completely silent until the ding, as the two of you walk out to the front of the hospital. the suns dipping down into the horizon, as gabi and falco lean against eren’s car, quietly talking. 

you give them a wave, the two of them sitting up, as you and eren walk up to them. 

“eren. can i talk to you for a second?” falco asks. 

eren gives him a nod, gesturing for him to follow towards the left, as you take falco’s spot next to gabi. you eye the two of them, noting falco’s characteristically nervous hands moving rapidly as he talks to eren. 

“what are they talking about?” you ask. 

“falco’s going to ask eren if colt can do the trial. he has lesions…or…or falco thinks he might, he just can’t remember right.” 

you look over at him. 

“he isn’t getting any better is he?” 

gabi shakes her head. 

“falco says that colt doesn’t even remember him.” 

you nod. 

“listen. i wanted to talk to you about something, if…if that’s okay.” 

gabi looks over at you, eyes expectant as you look down at the uneven gravel. 

“my mom recently got her citizenship status. my dad’s is being processed right now and…and it’s because my brother married an immigration lawyer. she’s really good and…and she could help you. and i can cover it for you, if you need me to.” you state. 

“what?” 

“she is really good. i can’t promise anything but, it’s worked out well for us, if you want another opinion.” 

gabi gives you a smile, cheeks almost pink as she follows your suit, staring down at the ground. 

“i couldn’t let you pay for that.” 

“she owes me a favor…and she’s my sister. i know we don’t know each other that well but, i…i get that this type of thing can….i don’t know.” 

you pause. 

“i just want you to enjoy your summer here so that you can see if research is your thing, no stress. i know it can be a lot at times.” 

gabi gives you a smile. 

“i’ll think about it, okay?” 

“please don’t hesitate, okay?” 

“i won’t.” 

eren and falco trail back to the two of you – falco and gabi giving each other a smile – as you turn to look at eren. 

“i want my shirt back tomorrow.” eren states, giving you a glare. 

“i’ll dry clean it for you, your highness.” you respond, giving it right back. 

“do you need a ride, y/n?” falco asks. 

you turn to him, giving him a smile, as you nod. the two of you trail into the parking lot, as you quietly sink into falco’s passenger seat, and nearly pull at the front strands of your hair. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you gave me a bad omen. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: truly is brutal out here. 

[busstopbilly]: Tell me about it. 

[busstopbilly]: In a shocking turn of events, the wallflower actually cussed me out today. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: HELLO? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: woah it’s been so long since i’ve heard about her. what gives? don’t tell me she did it again?

[bussstopbilly]: Oh, she definitely did. 

[busstopbilly]: I swear to god, I despise her because she’s just like everyone else. She thinks I’m exactly like my dad. It’s almost like she makes it a point to bring it up. That I don’t understand because everything came to me easily. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’re obviously not like your dad 

[lizontopoftheworld]: you’ll be out of this thing soon 

[busstopbilly]: What happened to you? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: stupid idiot asshole misogynistic ugly prick 

[busstopbilly]: But of course. 

[busstopbilly]: If it’s any solace, he only feels the need to put you down because he knows how great you are. It wouldn’t be a thing to him – he’s purposely making it into a competition becuase he feels inferior. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i guess 

[busstopbilly]: Tomorrow is another day. 

[busstopbilly]: And you shouldn’t listen to sad songs when you go home. 

[lizontopoftheworld[: BOOOOOOOOOO

[lizontopoftheworld]: but it’s so fun 

[busstopbilly]: Maybe. 

[bussstopbilly]: I just don’t want you to cry or feel like you’re defeated. I hate thinking that you’re sitting there feeling like you don’t fit in. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i don’t 

[bussstopbilly]: And that’s a good thing. Research, that type of career – it’s already filled with monotony. 

[busstopbilly]: You make things interesting. You’re there for a reason. 

[lizontoptheworld]: you make me sound so important 

[busstopbilly]: You are important. In more ways than one, obviously. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: chronic flirt….

[busstopbilly]: It’s good for your health. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: normal people eat vitamins. or like workout or something. 

[busstopbilly]: We’re not normal people, are we?

you can’t help but smile. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: no. of course not. 

[busstopbilly]: :) 

[busstopbilly]: You and me, Liz. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: my song is ribs by lorde 

[busstopbilly]: Because I’m the only friend you need?

[lizontopoftheworld]: so observant 

[busstopbilly]: Eh. 

[busstopbilly]: Only for you.

--

next chapter

an: hehe

taglist: @invisible-mori @multiplefandomthings @chericos @wheredidmycrowngo @chaoticpxnda @aizzon @stuffeddeer @butterfly-skinnylegend @najaemism @hellokitty-doll @constanciandrea @iblamesusy @jaegersdiary @f4irygard3n @misadear @fell-4-u @coyloves @sobbangchan @you-always-made-me-blush @th0tformikasa @yell0wdreams @itzmeme

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 2

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Sunday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 2: Soba, Warrior of the Sea

Chapter summary: Attempting to find blackmail material against your captain, you took a volume of Law's favourite comic series. The only problem is you misplaced it an hour later, and if you didn't find it, the captain was going to cut you up and throw you to the bottom of the sea.

Notes: Thank you for the love! I'm so glad y'all are loving this like I am! I'll make a taglist if more people are interested. And no, the title is not a typo and you'll find out why soon ;)

wc: 4k (hefty chapter this week!)

The Polar Tang smelt like fried eggs.

It was 7 am and Hearts Pirates were just waking up. It was a brand new day, and the crew were looking forward to seeing if they could dock on a new island. 

Ikakku made her way into the kitchen first, and she saw you cooking breakfast for the crew. You had your white jumpsuit unzipped with the sleeves tied around your waist. Your white tank top was stained with grease and was clinging to your skin due to sweat. 

She sat down facing your direction and rested her elbows on the table, with her cheek leaning on her palm. "Morning (Y/n)!" she greeted you.

You turn your head to see that Ikkaku has arrived. "Morning Ikkaku! Sorry I didn't wake you up, I knew that you wanted to help me today but you looked so peaceful sleeping," you said. 

Your crew-mate waved her hand dismissing the apology. "Don't even worry about it. I know you love being in the kitchen by yourself." She glanced at your exposed body. "Shouldn't you change and put your suit back on?" she commented.

You made an annoyed click with your mouth. "You know how annoying these jumpsuits are. I don't know why he insists that we can all do our jobs while wearing a white garbage bag as clothes. I don't care if he sees me like this and gets mad, I can't cook with this shit on." you complained. 

The girl behind you giggled, "Get mad? It's more like ogle your almost half-naked body. You know the captain has somewhat of a soft spot for you."

You scoffed. "Captain? We're talking about the guy who sliced me when he found that I put flour and bread in his rice balls?" 

"If anyone else did that, they would get thrown out of this sub." Ikkaku defended.

"Oh please. You know the captain is an emotionally constipated man who doesn't take a second glance at anyone."

"You'd be surprised our dear cook. I've seen Captain stare at you last month." Shachi interrupted as he walked into the kitchen with Penguin. 

"Shachi, that was because he was going to decapitate (Y/n) for smacking a loaf of bread on his head," Penguin corrected him.

"Oh..." he muttered.

You threw your head back in laughter as you remembered how you accidentally smacked the captain with a bagged loaf of bread because he was somehow caught in between the crossfire of you and Shachi arguing about stolen food portions. That day was the first time your head was separated from your body. 

The three crew-mates sitting at the dining table noticed how your cheeks flushed a light pink. They all grinned maniacally. 

"Were you thinking of the captain?" Penguin singsonged. 

You rolled your eyes as you placed a batch of fried eggs on a plate. "You know I don't have feelings for the captain like that."

"Aww, that's not true," Ikkaku whined. 

You continued to batter up a batch of pancakes and poured it into the hot pan in front of you. "Well, I can't lie the captain is good-looking. But I don't just fall in love with someone based on looks you guys, I would want to get to know the person before I would think about committing to a relationship," you explained as you flipped the pancake.

Shachi suddenly straightened his back in a sudden realization. "So you do admit that you find our awesome captain handsome! Why don't you try getting closer to him?" he asked.

You grabbed the plate of eggs from the counter and walked up towards your hungry crew-mates to place it on the table.

"I think the captain would rather eat bread than to get to know me. Besides, I know that he finds me insufferable, but that's because he doesn't know how to have fun. Now, who wants my special fried eggs?" 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 10 am, and you just finished cleaning the kitchen and making the crew's lunch. You proudly put your hands on your hips as you scanned the area. You were a proud cook and proud of what you did. Your heart swelled in appreciation that you could use your talents and that your talents were well appreciated within the crew.

Unlike your 3 shitty brothers who always just shoved food down their throats without care. But that wasn't important.

You glanced at Bepo, the captain's favourite crew-mate (your assumption), finishing wiping the dishes clean. The Mink was always around the captain, so often that you swore that they were probably shower buddies. A mental image of Law and Bepo bathing together popped into your head. You stiffened a laugh. 

"(Y/n)-san, Captain wanted to request grilled fish and rice for dinner," Bepo said, interrupting your daydream.

You exhaustedly sighed. "Again? This is the third time we had that this week, I swear that my breath permanently smells like fish now."

The Mink turned around to you and lowered his head. "Sorry..."

You gave a halfhearted smile to your crew-mate. "Never mind that I can never get mad at you Bepo, you're one of the few people who help me around the kitchen. Tell the captain that if he wants his favourite dish he needs to come up and ask me personally instead of using you as a communicator."

Bepo profusely nodded. "I'll tell him right away."

As Bepo was going to leave, you stopped him. "Wait," you called up to him. The Bear stopped in his tracks. 

You put your hand on your chin and started to think. "I don't want to make that fucking grilled fish and rice dish again. What if I know something about the captain and I can use it to hold against him? That way I can never make those dishes ever again." 

Once your idea formed in your head you started to grin evilly and rubbed your hands together like a madman.

Bepo, seeing this unfold in front of him, started to get nervous. "Uh, (Y/n)-san? What are you doing? Why did you stop me?" he asked. 

You whipped your head up to face Bepo and walked up in front of him. Putting your hand on the side of your mouth like you were telling a secret, you started to ask, "You're pretty close to the captain right?"

Bepo flinched. "Uhm, yes?"

"And you know a lot about him right? Like his deepest and darkest secrets?"

"Well, I guess so?"

"So, if you tell me something about him, something that he doesn't want anyone to know, you'd tell me in exchange for, let's say, my special sushi recipe?"

Bepo started sweating and you smirked. You knew the Mink bear loved your special sushi recipe, and you knew he could not resist.

"(Y/n)-san... I can't betray the captain like that." he said. The poor bear sounded like he was trying to convince himself not to give in to your temptation.

"Oh? Well, that's too bad, I was going to also make Soba for tonight too, what a shame," you said with fake sadness.

Bepo started to whimper. If there was one thing he didn't play about, it was Soba.

The Mink started to whip his head left and right to see if anyone was listening in to the conversation. Then he leaned down to your level.

"Oh alright, but PLEASE don't tell the captain about this!" he harshly whispered.

You grinned as you crossed your heart. "The information is safe with me."

Bepo hesitated, then he quickly confessed, "The captain is a huge fan of the comic series Sora, Warrior of the Sea! He has a huge collection hidden in his library of books."

You leaned back in surprise, with your smile widening into a perplexed grin. "Our feared captain is a NERD?!"

Bepo frantically waved his paws at you. "(Y/n)-san! Please you're being too loud!" he begged.

You burst out laughing, bending frontwards while your hands were clutching your stomach. Oh, the information that you just obtained was your One Piece! You never expect your stoic and boring captain to be a huge fan of a children's comic series. And he collected the comics too? This was just what you needed to blackmail Law.

You quickly collected yourself from laughing too hard. "Good doing business with you Bepo, you can expect a very good dinner tonight." You said. You winked at him and hurriedly walked out of the kitchen.

"Oh man, what did I do..." he mumbled. 

Meanwhile, you were scouring around the Polar Tang to find Law's collection of books. While walking in the corridors of the submarine, you encountered Jean Bart.

"Hey, Jean! Where are you heading to?" you asked the big man.

Jean rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey (Y/n)! I'm heading to the infirmary for my annual checkup with the captain."

The statement gave you a green light. You were going to head to the captain's room to get your hands on those comics no matter what. It may be a big risk but if it means that you wouldn't have to grill fish ever again, so be it.

"Good to know! I'm just heading back to my room, I've been doing a lot of cooking today." You said it as an alibi. 

You started to walk past the man. Jean's head followed your direction. He looked confused. "But your shared room is the opposite way...?" he said, watching your form walk further away. 

You didn't hear the man. You were hyper-focused on sneaking into the captain's room while he was busy with medical examinations.

Eventually, you came across a double door. There was a sign on the left door that read Trafalgar Law. This must be it.

You slowly grabbed the handle of the right door and twisted it. Pushing the door open you slowly walked into the captain's quarters. It was clean and neat as you expected it to be. The captain was a clean freak, the complete opposite of what you dealt with in the kitchen. On the right of the room was a queen bed, with a nightstand on its left side. There was a decent-sized desk perpendicular to the doors which were filled with scattered papers. To the right of the desk was a tall bookshelf filled with all kinds of books.

Bingo.

You stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind your back. You hurriedly walked to the bookshelf and started scanning through from top to bottom.

"Archives of Medical Plants... Grand List of Diseases... Mink Autonomy... North Blue Medical Association, dang nothing but medical books," you muttered as you looked through the bookshelf.

Unable to find anything on the bookshelf, you looked around the desk. You opened the drawers hoping to find some comics but found your bounty poster instead.

"Weird, why does he have my poster in there? It doesn't look like he has the rest of the crew's posters." you thought.

You put your hands on your hips and huffed in frustration. "If I were Trafalgar Law, where would I put my precious comic books?" you thought again. 

Your eyes soon landed on the nightstand, and a lightbulb went off on your head. 

You hurriedly scampered to the nightstand. You immediately opened the bottom drawer and found your One Piece.

In the drawer were 12 volumes of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. You carefully picked up the first volume. It was in pristine condition. You noticed it was covered with a plastic sleeve and you chuckled.

"Oh captain I never thought you would be a nerd. This is so good," you said giddily. 

You quickly took the first volume and placed it under your tank top at your back. Then you quickly put on the sleeves of your jumpsuit and zipped it up. You promptly got up and then quickly left the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind your back. You sighed in relief and took in a deep breath until someone spoke up on your left, "Why were you in the captain's room?"

"GAHHHH!!" you screamed. You whipped your head to your left, only to see Penguin leaning up against the wall with a grin.

"Is captain also in there too?" he inquired.

You grabbed onto the man's collar and pushed him against the wall. "Are you crazy? Don't scare me like that! And no, the captain is in the infirmary right now with Jean!" you whispered harshly.

Penguin raised his hands in defeat. "All right all right. But what were you doing in there?"

You released him and took a step back. "Well since you're here, I found the captain's deepest darkest secret," you said grinning. 

He gasped and put his hands on his mouth. "You found out about Corazon?!"

You tilted your head to the left. "Cora-who?"

Penguin laughed nervously. "Oh, that, uh never mind."

You huffed, dismissing what the man just said. "I found out that captain is a huge nerd! I have his copy of Sora, Warrior of the Sea hidden on me right now." you snickered.

Penguin looked like he was going to faint. Then you saw him morph into the angriest you had ever seen him, "WHY WOULD YOU TAKE THAT?!" he screamed. 

You flinched and his sudden outburst. "Whoa now, it's just blackmail material."

"The captain does not play about touching his comic books!"

You squinted. "Wait...you knew about this?"

The man made a raspberry noise "Of course I did. Bepo, Shachi and I grew up with the captain."

"Ah, that makes sense."

Now Penguin squinted. "Wait a minute, who told you about Captain's collection?"

You nervously laughed. "Ah, Bepo told me."

He groaned. "That fucking bear can't keep his mouth shut," he mumbled.

You dismissively waved your hand. "Never mind him. I bribed him. Now, I know you want to take a peak of this comic with me, don't you Penguin?" you asked. 

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, it won't hurt just to read a bit."

"Great!" you said as you clapped your hands. "Let's head to the kitchen to read!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was now 4 pm and you just finished preparing dinner. You and Penguin delightfully indulged in the first volume of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. As much as you wanted to continue making fun of the captain for liking a kid's comic series, you found yourself enjoying it as well. But, you reminded yourself that the reason why you took the comic book was to blackmail your captain into never suggesting rice and grilled fish ever again. So you placed it in your shared room with Ikkaku. 

You cleaned up the remaining dishes and placed them next to the sink. You made your special sushi and Soba, as per Bepo's request. You hurriedly walked out of the kitchen to go to your room, eager to read the rest of the comic before using it for blackmail.

However, when you entered your shared room and checked your bed, where you hid the book under your covers, you couldn't find it. You started to panic and started throwing your stuff around to find it. You knew Ikkaku wouldn't have taken it, she was in the boiler room all day so she wouldn't have entered the room at all. 

"Fuck! It was just here! Where did it go?!" you spluttered. 

You started to check your desk until you heard a knock on the door. 

"One moment!" you called out.

The knock came in again, but this time someone spoke. "It's me (Y/n)-ya. Can I speak to you?" 

Your blood ran cold. This was the worst timing ever, and now you were going to die today because of it. 

You sped walked to the door and opened it and saw your captain standing at the door. He was wearing his usual black coat, but this time he wasn't donning his signature hat.

You laughed out of nervousness. "H-hey captain! How can I help you?" you asked.

The raven-haired man raised his eyebrows as he noticed your nervousness. "Is something the matter (Y/n)-ya? Are you unwell?" he inquisitively asked. 

You waved your hand. "Nooo, I'm all okay captain. Why did you come to see me?" you said trying to change the subject.

Law wasn't convinced by your statement but continued anyway. "Bepo told me to come to you directly for food suggestions." He was struggling to meet your eyes. "Well, you told him to tell you and you're right. I should be approaching you personally for things that I request. It isn't fair to dismiss you when you're one of our important crew members." he continued. It seemed like he was trying to apologize. However, that was the least of your worries because you had a lost comic book to find and if you didn't find it soon you were good as dead.

You let out a forced laugh. "Oh it's nothing, captain, no problem, I'll make your fish and rice tonight, let me just head to the kitchen to make it right now!"

You attempted to walk past the doctor but he gently pushed you back in the room and entered with you. He promptly closed the door behind him and took a step towards you, leaning close to your face.

"(Y/n)-ya, you're hiding something aren't you?" he said, staring into you with a strange gleam in his eyes. 

The air suddenly felt hot and you started sweating profusely. You looked off to the side and pursued your lips together. "I don't know what you're talking about captain."

The man's face fell into a frown. "You're a terrible liar (Y/n)-ya. You can't keep a straight face."

Your face turned red in embarrassment. Then suddenly, Law used his Devil Fruit powers to materialize the comic book into his hands. You felt like you were going to pass out.

"Oh, so you have no idea how this ended up in your room?" he said mockingly.

"H-how did you, I-i-" you stuttered in shock. Then you suddenly remember again why you took it in the first place. 

"HA! I took it because I found out that you're a huge nerd! You're a huge fan of Soba, Warrior of the Sea! I will tell everyone in this submarine that you like children's comics if you continue to ask me to make your wretched rice and grilled fish again!" you said proudly. You put your hands on your hips and glared at Law, thinking that the blackmail worked.

There was a pregnant pause. But then Law did unspeakable. For the first time, he burst out laughing. 

The captain was genuinely laughing. A smile adorned his face, with his eyes crinkling up in a crescent shape. This was a big shock to you because you were never met with laughter when it came to Law, only scowls, yelling and threats of violence.

But for some reason, your heart gently fluttered at the sight. To see the captain in such a new light was... interesting to say the least. 

The captain collected his breath and then started to talk. "First of all, who's Soba?"

"Tonight's dinner menu," you answered with no hesitation.

The man sighed, "No, you said Soba the Great Warrior of the Sea, but it's Sora." he corrected you. 

"Oh fuck." you thought. "My hungry ass was thinking thinking about soba."

"Second of all," the doctor continued, "why do you have my book?"

You were pissed off. Did he not realize that you just tried to blackmail him? "Captain, you do realize that I was trying to blackmail you right?"

Law smirked. "Is that so? Well, it's not blackmail if everyone here knows about it," he said.

You swear your brain stopped working. This whole time your plan failed because everyone but you knew that the captain was into superhero comics. You were about to feed the crew shitty food for the entire week.

Noticing that you weren't responding, the man continued to speak. "Also, Penguin told me that you enjoyed reading through it."

You gritted your teeth. "That fucking snitch, I can never tell him anything!" you muttered.

Law chuckled. "Don't worry, I blackmailed him into telling me what happened. I felt that something happening on my submarine."

So everyone's blackmail worked but yours huh? It's like the gods wanted to see you fail.

Law suddenly put down the comic book and dropped it on your bed. Then the doctor suddenly put his tattooed hand behind your neck and pulled you forward so that his mouth was next to your left ear. His cheek was leaning up against yours and you felt yourself blush and heat up from the contact.

"Why are you so adamant on pushing my buttons (Y/n)-ya?" he whispered in your ear.

You felt his goatee scrape against the bottom side of your cheek and you felt your cheeks heat up even more.

"I-I was just-" you stuttered.

"Do you want to get thoroughly punished? It's like you're asking me to punish you." he interrupted. You felt his hot breath in your ear and you swore that you were going to pass out then and there.

The doctor let go of your neck to place both hands on your shoulders and took a look at you. You couldn't tell if he was angry or not. His eyes showed a different look that you were unfamiliar with. It was like he wanted to devour you and throw you out at the same time. The man started shaking from anger for a brief moment, then he stopped and sighed in defeat.

"Your punishment is to read all 12 volumes of Sora with me," he said, finally breaking the silence.

You blankly stared at your captain. You expected that you were going to be kicked out of the crew. But a comic book club with the captain? that was new. "You want me to what?"

"I'm not repeating myself (Y/n)-ya. Since you wanted my books so bad, you will read it with me and talk about it with me," he ordered.

You started to smile out of confusion. "Hey...you just want to talk about Sora with someone don't you?" you questioned him in a teasing tone. 

Law started to scowl as his ears started to turn red. "This isn't about me, I am punishing you for your ridiculous behaviour again," he growled. 

You shook your head and laughed. You brushed off the man's hands on your shoulders and started to walk out of the room. "You're so cute, captain. Fine, for once I agree to do your punishment only because I think it's interesting. Come on now, dinner is going to start soon and I still have to make your disgusting rice and grilled fish meal."

"I AM NOT CUTE!" you heard the tattooed doctor shout behind your back. You didn't see it but his ears turned even more red because of your compliment. Nonetheless, the man started to follow you out of the room. 

But as soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Ikkaku standing right in front of you. Her eyes were popping out of her head as she saw both you and the captain in the room. She started giggling, as she put both of her hands on her mouth. "Oh my god."

You rolled your eyes and the captain walked passed you your fellow female crew-mate. "I was just questioning (Y/n)-ya, nothing to get worked up over with." he coolly said as he walked down the hall of the submarine.

"Girl, what happened in there?" she asked giddily.

You side-eyed the girl as you started to walk past her as well. “I tried blackmailing the captain but it didn't work.”

Ikkaku frowned and started to follow you. "Come on, what really happened?" she questioned. But you ignored her words as you started to journey into the kitchen. 

You giggled as you walked down the hall. For some reason, Shachi's words replayed in your head.

"Why don't you try getting closer to him?"

A small started to form on your lips. It didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

[beomanamilk]

thinking abt a soulmate au with gyu where you constantly have dreams about your future; whether it be simple day-to-day activities you were to partake in, or some bigger, possibly unexpected moments that could change your life for better or for worse.

the worst part of these dreams is the unknown figure that constantly appears in them. in every single dream you have, the figure is there with you, turning the once peaceful dreams into frightening nightmares, its blurred face haunting your sleep until you find it in you to wake up.

it isn’t scary by any means, not until you feel your eyes starting to open, and just milliseconds before the darkness flees, the face of the evocative silhouette appears, revealing itself.

the creatures face is deformed, it adorns a lopsided smile and sharp eyes that seem to drop your heart to your stomach every time the image appears in your head.

you find yourself asleep in another dream of your future, one of which you seem to be in a local music store, scanning through rows of guitars on display.

you pay no mind to the boy who is sitting on a bench nearby, playing around with a guitar he hopes of purchasing, and continue to stroll along the halls yourself.

the dream seems quiet.

of course, you happen to lose your balance. from what? you can’t say you know.

you trip face down onto the floor in front of the bench, in front of the poor boy who had just been looking for guitars and ended up with a stranger fallen at his feet.

“oh shit! are- are you okay?!” you can hear shuffling from above and turn your head up towards the boy, feeling your stomach twist into dreadful knots when you do so.

you cannot see the boys face. while everything else in the room is clear as day, every feature of his is hidden, he is blurred. it feels as if you’ve gone completely blind in the one space of your eye that the boys head seems to take up.

you reply simply, “i’m good.”

there is only one goal you have now, and that is to get away from the man before he turns into a creepy monster and jump-scares you away from your much needed 7 hours.

though before you can stop yourself, the boy’s hand is on your shoulder and turning you to face him, startling you out of sleep.

you spend the next couple hours before your alarm goes off staring at the ceiling, unable to get the man’s sinister face out of your mind.

-

when you find yourself at the same music store from your dream about a week later, you can’t say you’re not nervous.

the boy had managed to alter your view of the precious shop completely, causing an unexpected fear of said place.

thankfully, it’s a tuesday morning, meaning the chances of many people inside are very low, but you still have your doubts.

when you push open the doors and walk through with as much courage as possible, your heart practically stops at the sight of a man with long black hair sitting in the same spot as your dream with the same acoustic guitar.

you gulp, taking another step forward, reminding yourself that it was just a dream, and you really need to get a new guitar after yeonjun drunkenly stomped all over your previous one.

your steps become weary as you near the boy, praying that you can just keep yourself standing upwards and not end up with your face flat on the ground.

though when you feel something nudge the tip of your toe, you know it’s over.

accepting what fate has unfairly planned for you, you let yourself fall forward, landing on your stomach with a grunt at the man’s feet.

“oh shit! are- are you okay?!” he repeats his words from your dream, and you almost cry from both fear and humiliation.

though when you look up, expecting to be met with a blank face, you’re instead met with a shockingly good-looking guy.

“i- i’m fine, actually.” you mutter, taking in the look of genuine concern on the boy’s pretty face, his eyebrows turned downwards and his plump bottom lip turned over his top one in a frown.

his eyes sparkle as he looks down at you with some stray hairs falling over his face, reaching a hand downwards, offering to help you up from your place on the floor.

you grab it with a short “thank you” and tug yourself upward, slightly startled at the comforting warmth his hand brings you.

the male nods at you before you turn away, hoping to continue your hunt for a new guitar.

though before you can get too far, the same hand from your dream is placed on your shoulder, but this time it doesn’t harshly turn you around, it instead stays there, a soft yet warm grip that seems to make you as dizzy as if he were to spin you around.

“uh, sorry. i just wanted to ask for your name. you’re really-“ he pauses with a gulp, “you’re really pretty.”

you feel your heart flutter and want to sigh out of frustration. this can’t be the same boy from your creepy dreams.

when you turn to him, he’s smiling softly at you, and you think it could be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“i’m beomgyu, by the way.”

[verysium]

ACT 1, SCENE 2: blue lock headcanons

nagi found out amazon product testers were a real thing, and he had never been more happy in his entire life. if he wasn't training to become a professional football player, that would have been his dream job.

sae became a victim of the cat distribution system the moment he moved to spain. he left his window open once, and he came back to a whole secret society of strays on his fire escape.

aryu used to watch his mother do her makeup in the bathroom every morning. after she left for work, he would use her hair curlers and nail polish to bedazzle himself. if you ever ask him to do your makeup, he would tilt your chin up with one hand and ever so gently swipe on your lipstick for you.

kaiser is a whore for attention, even if it is bad attention. if you're not listening to him during dinner, he would most definitely steal the food right off your plate whilst maintaining eye contact. gives you the most shit-eating grin once you catch him.

rin genuinely cannot function around the female species. sometimes his aunties make small talk during family gatherings, and he just sits awkwardly with his baby cousin in his arms. the baby almost always cries.

sae still uses his ipod from 2005. he doesn't have any interest in music, so he mostly uses it as a white noise filler during long flights. if you send him a song recommendation though, he will listen to it.

rin kept a diary as a teenager with some of the entries completely filled with angsty scribblings about sae. he definitely had an entire section somewhere dedicated to death and existentialism. the second half of his journal is reserved solely for you though. he sometimes doodles flowers in the margins.

raichi is chronically online. he would be the type to have an entire four-page argument with a stranger in the youtube comment section. sometimes you have to remind him that the outside world actually exists, and he needs to go outside and touch grass.

sae is secretly intrigued by artists. like how can you just transfer an image from your head onto paper? is it some sort of magic? he cannot wrap his mind around anything that isn't concrete and tangible. he sometimes walks through the streets of madrid just to spy on the old people painting the sea. if you made a drawing of him, he would internally malfunction.

isagi used to help his mother with knitting and sewing. he even learned how to crochet one summer but forgot all about it once he got into football. would not complain if you asked him to do laundry or iron clothes. he is (most of the time) very sweet and kind.

bachira does not have a sleep schedule. what is sleep? he only knows 24/7 hyperactivity and the demons under his bed. would wake you up at the crack of dawn just to go hang out in some random abandoned parking lot.

sae has to physically restrain himself whenever he does shoots for brand endorsements. he would definitely tell the truth if the product was low-quality while literally being on set for its commercial. this man does not lie. cannot model for the life of him. he lost his ability to smile a long time ago, and he feels viscerally ill every time a camera is shoved into his face. if you're there to accompany him though, he will straighten up and at least attempt to look enthusiastic.

rin is terrible at any sort of class that involves creative writing. however, he does enjoy reading haikus. it's the only form of poetry he can understand. definitely sends you one when he misses you.

reo is clueless whenever you tell him that you feel ugly in your outfit. like where is the ugliness? all he sees is the most stunning person in the world. definitely recommend taking him shopping. he would go into the fitting rooms with you and give you the most encouraging confidence boost you have ever felt.

sae has the strongest enamel in existence because he bites his popsicles right off the stick. rin tried to do that once and ended up getting brain freeze.

yukimiya is the type to go from 0 to 100 in less than a millisecond. if anyone says anything remotely negative about you, he will definitely make sure they do not live to see the light of day. he does all this with the most charming smile on his face too.

shidou has no table manners. he would be the messiest eater in existence. if the dining hall looks like a velociraptor just barraged through, you know shidou was there. he only uses a napkin because you told him to.

rin wears chelsea boots and women's clothing. he has a collection of trench coats in his closet, and they're one of the only things he's incredibly proud of. at least he beats sae when it comes to fashion sense.

ness would pack you lunch every day without you even asking for it. he also uses those glittery animal toothpicks and cuts your apples into hearts. his paper notes are little menacing though. usually it has your name written a thousand times in blood red ink.

sae would let you braid flowers into his hair, but he would wrinkle his nose in embarrassment if you ever took a picture of it. he tries to act nonchalant when you gush about how pretty he is because in his mind he looks incredibly stupid. will keep that photo by his bedside and look at it when he's lonely though.

isagi is incredibly clumsy. sometimes he will act like an egomaniac before falling right on his face. the world has an interesting way of humbling him. he does keep his mood swings in check when you're around though. your presence gives his mind inner peace.

otoya has color-coded folders for every girl he has dated. he keeps their names, likes, dislikes, and contacts all separately filed so he doesn't confuse them. however, on your night out, he got so caught up in talking to you, he forgot to even update your file. the date ended with him smiling like a damn fool. you're always the exception.

aiku is the type to just be casual about everything. he just got into a car accident while on call with you? that's okay because he got to hear your pretty voice on facetime. he took a tidal wave straight to the face while ogling you at the beach? that's no problem because he got a sneak-peek at your cute little bathing suit. this man literally has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to you.

bachira was the kid who tried to mix up weird concoctions at the school lunch table. now it translates into drinking both an energy drink and americano at once. you had to pull him away from the soda fountain because he kept trying to add every single drink combination possible into his red solo cup.

sae would blatantly stare at your ass and then tell you it was for research purposes. if you press further, he will pull up the statistics showing how buttock size correlates with athletic ability.

rin is obsessed with tea only because he saw his brother drink it at family dinners. he always sat up straight on the zabuton and sipped the bitter leaf juice as a way to impress the grown-ups. unfortunately for him, he developed a caffeine addiction in his late teens.

niko would be the tech-savvy person in your relationship. he doesn't believe in traditional flowers, so he codes you an entire HTML webpage with roses on the user interface. he also wholeheartedly believes that virtual pets are real pets.

shidou is an adrenaline junkie. he has six piercings, two of which are helix. he also snowboards during the winter and speeds on the highway for fun. (don't be like shidou, kids.)

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[withleeknow]

letters i didn't send to you.

pairing: ot8 x reader (ot8 in the sense that there's no name mentioned so you can imagine whoever you want. imagine the whole kpop industry if you want lol) genre/warnings: established relationship, long distance relationship au?, angst, fluff if you squint. unedited bc i am insane word count: 0.7k note: trying something new here! dunno how people are gonna like it but i don't feel terrible about it 🤷‍♀️ a product of my emo hours and i needed an outlet and i thought oh hey why not just project this into a fic lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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3:29am, i've been dreaming about you for years. stars and moons and cotton candy clouds on fire at sundown. the whole universe resides in your eyes, it's almost unfair. sleepless nights because you're not here; restless days because i can't wait for you to be back. the clock stops ticking when you're not with me. the magnetic pull gets stronger during the witching hour somehow. i've always been drawn to you, even before i knew who you were. you're the only home i'd leave all my haunts for. it's summer solstice in most parts of the world but not in our bedroom, not when the only way i can have you is through a phone screen on your pillow. your voice is trying to lull me to sleep. it doesn't come close to replicating one tenth of your warmth. to love is to endure.

-

i'm halfway through the day, and you must be dreaming of where you belong, by my side on a bed that's far too big when i'm the only occupant. or at least, i hope you're dreaming of me too. 1:19pm, i'm six hours ahead but days and weeks and months and years behind, still stuck in that airport where you left me for the first time. some days, my eyes get misty at lunch when i think about your alarm going off and your irritated groan as you roll over to make your phone stop screaming. other days, i don't have an appetite at all, not with you on my mind and the reminder that there's still oceans between us. when are you coming home? i know when you're coming home, and yet i ask anyway, as if it'll shorten the distance and make the time pass more quickly. to love is to wait.

-

saturday morning, but i can't stay in bed past 7:12am. missing you a lot tonight, was what you had sent while i was asleep. that's a little cruel for a good morning text, don't you think? it's not your fault. i blame it on the oceans, on the time, on the distance. the coffee is still brewing, just enough for one steaming mug but it would've been nice if i got to make two. can we go back to new york? we always say we would, but can we do it now? i'll meet you halfway if you let me. there's nothing that ties me to this place. you're always on the move. my home is always on the move. we were happy on that trip, right? my fondest memories of you. skylines and the high line. to love is to risk it all, and i would risk it all for you. take me home, will you? let's go back to new york.

-

the clock reads 8:18am, but the date is all wrong. you should be landing any minute now, but not for another two days. two more days until you're home, ten days that i get to be in your arms. and yet, all i can think about is your departure, about coming back to an empty apartment after you're gone again. i think about you leaving before you even return. the drive back after i've sent you off, it never hurts less no matter how many times we go through it. i can already picture the scene, it's almost routine at this point. your sparkling eyes when they find me in the crowded airport, your relieved sigh when i run to you, your hands clutching me so tightly like you don't want to let go either. it's always this damn airport. we should stop meeting like this. when the buzzing of my phone snaps me out of it, i know who's on the other end of the notification. a photo of your new polaroid camera, then a promise to make more memories to keep with us when you come back to me.

to love is to willingly weather this with you a million times and more. even if it hurts. maybe especially if it hurts. you're the reason i keep going. you're the reason why the sun rises in the morning. let's talk about new york when you're here.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 02.07.2024]

[rea-grimm]

Sleep protector Luffy

"You look awful, what happened to you?" a friend asked you when you met at a coffee shop. It's been almost a year since you last saw each other. She hadn't changed at all, while you were almost unrecognizable.

You had giant circles under your eyes and your whole body looked like a giant painting that someone had painted using red, blue, yellow and purple. You wore so many bruises that you lost count.

You had the impression that you were cursed. Bad luck was sticking to your heels, and you also suffered from nightmares that kept you awake.

You thought slipping on a banana peel was just a TV joke. That is until you did it yourself. You had no idea how many times you tripped or were almost struck by lightning, or forgot your umbrella in the biggest downpour.

It was the little things that you wouldn't mind if they weren't happening to you 24/7. What irritated you the most was when people told you not to worry about it, that it would get better if you slept. As if it were possible. Every time you fell asleep, you found yourself in an even worse nightmare than before.

Initially, you didn't want to discuss this with your friend, because it was quite possible that you wouldn't see her again for a year or so. You wanted to enjoy this day with her. 

But you couldn't hide anything from her either, and you confided everything to her under her pressure. Also about the fact that you slowly began to fall into depression.

After this, your friend gave you a small gift bag. She wanted to give it to you anyway. She also had a similar one at home, and as soon as she bought it, all the bad dreams disappeared. Plus, when she saw this one, she remembered you and just had to get it for you.

After coffee, you spent almost the rest of the day together. When you said goodbye, you returned home, where you could finally calmly look at the bag you had received.

You opened it and inside was a teddy bear. He had black fur, a red vest, blue shorts and a straw hat on his head. He was cute and soft to the touch.

You didn't believe much in talismans and charms, but you took a stuffed animal to bed with you. After a long time, you fell asleep without any problems almost immediately.

It was an even bigger but pleasant shock in the morning when you woke up full of energy and without any nightmares. You couldn't even remember the last time you slept this well.

You didn't believe it, but it had to be true. Ever since you got the teddy bear, the nightmares have slowly faded away. You were always saved from them by a young man wearing the same outfit as the teddy bear.

He easily defeated all your nightmares and with a carefree smile, he then took your hand and led you into the unknown for an adventure. Be it sea battles, an island of giants or an island full of meat. He always managed to come up with some stupid thing by pure chance that ended up being good and you still laughed.

Thanks to that, you looked forward more and more to sleep and what new things you will do. You were especially looking forward to seeing him because he exuded a cheerful energy that was very contagious. You had the impression that even if he was only in a dream, he could recharge your batteries like no one else.

Since then, your mood has improved and your bad luck has disappeared. You would never believe that a good night's sleep could solve all your problems.

Even your bad luck suddenly disappeared. Instead, you found money here and there, you won, for example, some little thing for free, people were nicer to you, everything started to go well for you, and things turned out better than you expected. You never expected to experience such a turn for the better.

You were in the mood for some quick food, maybe a burger or something, and you headed into town. You went to the chosen establishment and ordered food. While you were waiting, you noticed a young man at the counter who reminded you of a teddy bear.

The young man was getting upset because he wanted to order a lot of food, but apparently, he didn't have enough money to pay. Despite all this, he did not give up.

You felt quite sorry for him, so you decided to buy him food. You went over to him and paid for him. It's already happened to you several times that they blocked your card out of nowhere, so you couldn't pay, so you wanted to make him happy.

"You're the best! Thank you very much!" the young man in the straw hat was beaming with enthusiasm and before you knew it, he was hugging you. This moment felt very familiar to you, but you couldn't remember from where. You just smiled and waved it off that it was a small thing.

You originally thought you'd grab your food and head home, but you were so captivated by his cheerfulness that you decided to stay. You ate your meal together. You had already eaten your portion while he was still stuffing himself.

After the meal, he took you to see his friends. You were glad about that because you didn't have many friends or they lived far away. That's why you sometimes felt alone. He saved you from that loneliness and after eating, you went to his group.

You originally wanted to go home after eating, but something just pulled you towards him. All his friends accepted you and you were with them until the evening. You probably never laughed so well and you even felt a little sorry when you said goodbye to them.

When you finally got home, you were tired, but at the same time filled with positive energy that you didn't want to go to bed yet. You made yourself a warm drink and sat down on the couch with plans to watch a nice movie.

You prepared everything when you had the impression that something was missing. You got up and went to the bedroom where you wanted to take the teddy bear with you. Maybe it was childish, but you wanted him with you.

You went into the bedroom but you didn't see him anywhere. You looked under the duvet, the pillow and even under the bed, but he was nowhere to be found. You searched the rest of the bedroom as well, wondering where you could leave him. Instead of a movie, you ended up spending the evening looking for a teddy bear.

You were slowly starting to panic. If you couldn't find him, did that mean bad luck and nightmares would return? Will you go back to the bottom again? Will you be afraid to get out of bed in the morning again? You fell to your knees in a panic and held your head.

How could something like this even happen to you? Was it just a dream and you will wake up in the morning to a harsh reality? Was this just another nightmare? Just a figment of your troubled mind?

Strange footsteps interrupted you from your train of thought. It couldn't be your friend, she was long gone. Would they be thieves? You really couldn't care less. It would just suit your miserable situation.

"Why are you on the floor?" a familiar voice asked you, but it lacked the classic cheerfulness. Instead of it, he was full of worries. You looked at him with tear-filled eyes. You didn't even know you started crying.

“Whoa, why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?” he asked in surprise, looking like he was ready to beat up anyone who tried to harm you in any way.

“No,” you replied in a husky voice as you wiped away your tears and shook your head. At first, you were hesitant to confide in him, but it was your dream after all. That's why you told him about the teddy bear and your fears.

"I was already afraid that someone hurt you," he breathed and smiled. "You don't have to be afraid of anything. I'm Luffy, your sleep protector,” he replied as if it was obvious.

“Huh?” You didn't understand what he meant. “But that teddy bear…” you trailed off.

"That was me," he jumped into your speech proudly. "So I protected you in your dreams, but I wanted to protect you here too," he replied with satisfaction.

You watched him and tried to make sense of it when his hands stretched out and he pulled you to him like nothing. He hugged you and rubbed his cheek on your head.

"I like you a lot more when you're happy. Tears don't suit you,” he said while cuddling you.

Everything was so real and pleasant that you believed it. And if this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up. You looked at him and kissed him. You haven't felt this safe and loved in a long time.

Luffy Masterlist

Sleep Protector Masterlist