#also seriously they clink SO MUCH

[aturinfortheworse]

i assume the worst part of sharehousing is when you have like, six or seven sex toys you need to clean at once. because like one you can just sneak it into the bathroom and even if someone does see you, it's just an awkward "oh haha yep just me, washing my dildo lol" thing

whereas with seven, even really chill friends, like even friends who have an up to date list of my kinks and have seen me naked - there's still gotta be a moment of

and i mean idk what i want people to assume in that situation: that i used seven sex toys in the last hour or that i just keep a stockpile of dirty toys waiting to be cleaned. the reality tbh is both but i dont want people to know that.

[rafecameronssl4t]

ok but imagine if sofia tries being all close to rafe knowing he has a gf & reader acts like she’s unbothered but reader catches sofia alone and scared sofia with threats 👀👀

Jealousy is a disease || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

GIF by @skubricks

A/n: love love love!!!! also made a little reference from gossip girl in this fic, ifykyk

Warnings: this is def kook!bitchy!reader, reader and her friend are mean girls to Sofia but just remember this is a fanfic!!!! i do not condone bullying whatsoever!!

Word count: 1,593

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Steph's eyes widen in disbelief as she watches Sofia and Rafe engage in a conversation that’s laced with unmistakable flirtation. The way Sofia leans in, her hand gently brushing his arm, and the subtle, playful smile on her lips make it abundantly clear what her intentions are. Steph turns to you, her voice filled with incredulity, "You're seriously telling me you're not bothered by this right now?"

You glance over at the pair, your gaze calm and unwavering. With a lazy swing of your leg, bent casually over the other knee, you reply with a shrug, "Not in the slightest." Your voice is cool, almost indifferent, as if the scene before you were of no consequence. Your eyes, however, remain fixed on Rafe.

"Are you feeling okay?" Steph teases, her voice laced with playful concern as she presses the back of her hand against your forehead. You let out a snort, swatting her hand away with a light slap as both of you break into smiles. "Ever heard of that saying, jealousy is a disease?" you quip, leaning further back into the couch, sinking into its cushions with a relaxed ease.

Steph turns her head to look at you, curiosity and amusement dancing in her eyes. "Why would I be jealous of someone like her?" you scoff, your tone dripping with condescension. The very idea seems absurd to you, and the edge in your voice makes it clear that Sofia poses no threat to you and your relationship with Rafe.

"You don't feel anything whenever you see the two of them talking?" Steph presses, her eyebrows raised skeptically as she watches Sofia toss her hair back in an exaggerated laugh.

You follow her gaze briefly before returning your attention to your perfectly manicured nails, feigning disinterest. "If anything, it's amusing to watch," you reply with a sly smirk playing on your lips. "She clearly doesn't have much up there if she thinks she's got a shot with Rafe."

To emphasize your point, you lightly tap your temple with a perfectly polished finger, your eyes glinting with a mix of confidence and subtle disdain. Steph bites back a laugh, but a soft chuckle escapes her lips despite her efforts. She leans back against the couch, shaking her head in amusement.

"You're a bitch," she says, her voice filled with affectionate reproach. "But I have to admit, watching her try so hard is kind of entertaining." You shrug casually, reclining deeper into the plush cushions and crossing your legs elegantly. The soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills the room, but your focus remains unfazed.

"Let her have her fun," you say dismissively, casting another glance toward Rafe and Sofia. Rafe catches your eye for a brief moment, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he returns his attention to Sofia's endless chatter.

Noticing the exchange, Steph nudges you playfully with her elbow. "Did you see that? He's totally just humouring her." You can't help but smile, a satisfied glimmer in your eyes. "Of course he is. Rafe knows exactly what he's doing." Steph laughs, reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl between you.

You chuckle, picking up your drink and swirling the contents with a slow, deliberate motion, your gaze thoughtful yet amused. "I give her another ten minutes before she storms off in a huff. Or," you pause, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips, "if Rafe really wants to play, he could stretch it out for a couple of days."

Steph’s eyes widen in delight at the suggestion, and the two of you share a conspiratorial look before bursting into giggles. "Poor girl," Steph sighs, her voice dripping with mock sympathy as she lifts her glass for a sip. "She should know better than to go for someone who’s clearly out of her league."

You nod in agreement, the edges of your smirk softening into something almost pitying. "She’s just setting herself up for disappointment," you remark, your tone laced with a hint of amusement. "But I suppose she’ll learn that the hard way."

~

"Did you invite her?" you ask, slipping on your rings one by one, the cool metal sliding smoothly over your fingers. "Who?" Rafe replies, a hint of confusion in his voice as he buttons up his shirt, making his way over to you at your vanity. You catch his eye in the reflection of the mirror, giving him a pointed look.

"Oh, Sofia? Yeah, I did. Why?" he says, finally understanding. He leans down, pressing a trail of soft kisses along your bare shoulder, his lips warm against your skin. You hum in acknowledgment, the feel of his lips against your skin momentarily distracts you, and you close your eyes for a brief second.

"You look good," Rafe murmurs against your neck, his breath hot and close as he inhales the intoxicating scent of your perfume—a fragrance he knows all too well, one that lingers in his thoughts long after you’ve gone. A slow smile curves your lips, your confidence unwavering. "When don't I?" you tease, your tone light.

He chuckles deeply, the sound resonating through his chest as he straightens up, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. "True," he concedes, his voice filled with a hint of amusement. He glances at his watch, calculating the time with practiced ease. "Think we have time?" he suggests, his tone dropping slightly.

You know exactly what he means, and the suggestion sends a thrill of excitement through you. With a playful roll of your eyes, you nod, your smile widening as you turn to face him, your eyes meeting his with a mix of anticipation and mischief.

~

After one final glance in the mirror, satisfied with your appearance, you step out of your shared room with Rafe. Your heels click rhythmically on the wooden floor, each step echoing through the hallway as you make your way outside for the party.

As you turn the corner, lost in thought, you suddenly collide with someone. The impact is gentle but enough to jolt you from your thoughts. "Oh, I’m so sorry—" a soft voice quickly apologises, and you find yourself face-to-face with Sofia.

Her wide eyes are filled with surprise and a hint of nervousness as she looks up at you, her hands instinctively reaching out as if to steady you, though it's clear she’s the one who’s flustered. For a brief moment, you both stand there, the awkwardness hanging in the air like a heavy curtain.

"Sofia, thought I might see you here," you say, your smile tight but polite, the kind of smile that masks a multitude of thoughts. Sofia’s cheeks flush slightly as she smiles nervously. "Yeah, um—Rafe invited me," she explains, her voice wavering just a touch. You nod slowly, taking in her words with an air of detachment. "Uh-huh, Rafe invited you," you repeat, your tone carrying a subtle note of mockery.

Sofia’s expression shifts to one of uneasy recognition as she nods in confirmation. Your gaze narrows slightly. "And apparently Rafe is really into you and has forgotten all about me?" you continue, your tone sharp as you echo the words that have been circulating and eventually found their way back to you.

Sofia’s eyes widen, her nervousness now palpable as she struggles for words. "I—uh—" she stammers, clearly taken aback by your direct approach. You scoff, your expression shifting to one of disbelief. "Did you really think you could get away with saying that?" you ask, your voice dripping with a mix of disdain and frustration as you cross your arms over your chest.

Sofia’s face flushes as she tries to regain her composure, her voice shaky. "What? No—I didn’t say that. I don’t know where you heard that from—" You let out a chuckle, a low, almost mocking sound that underscores your disbelief. "You know," you say, shrugging nonchalantly, "I always knew you were a bit of a whore."

Your eyes narrow, the harshness of your words cutting through the tension. "But I didn’t take you for a liar, too." Sofia’s eyes widen in shock, her mouth parting as if she’s struggling to find a response. The impact of your words hangs heavy in the air, leaving her visibly rattled.

"I was fine with you getting my boyfriend's attention, or at least trying to" you begin, your voice steady but laced with a touch of exasperation. "It was actually pretty entertaining to watch, but now you've just pissed me off." You let out a sigh, your arms falling back to your sides.

"Don’t talk to him again, yeah?" you add, your smile sweet but carrying an underlying menace. As you walk past her, the satisfaction in your step is palpable. Sofia’s eyes follow you, a mix of anger and humiliation flickering across her face.

You step into the lively party, where the energy contrasts sharply with the tension you just left behind. Rafe is waiting for you, a welcoming arm draped around your shoulders. He offers you a cup with his drink, his expression full of warmth and concern. "Everything all good?" he asks, his voice low and reassuring.

You hum in response, your gaze shifting to where Sofia is making her way out of the hallway and down the stairs. From behind the rim of the solo cup, you allow a satisfied smile to curve your lips, the small victory settling comfortably within you.

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Session 2 of 10|Previous Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish.  You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears. 

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous—you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[katethetank]

Ok I’ve never written anything before, and I’m obsessed with Steddie content. So without further adieu, here’s a modern day Steddie story where Eddie comes to terms with the hard truth that his husband’s snuggles might be more popular than his world famous band. This kind of got away from me and ended up way longer than I thought it would. Oops.

Content warnings: idk, TikTok I guess?! It’s fluffy and sweet, illusions to smut at the end

Eddie Munson was a notoriously private person. Corroded Coffin was the biggest metal/alt band in the world, and despite the fame, he managed to keep his personal life just that - personal.

There of course had been rumors over the last few years of who he was married to. Among the chunky metal rings that always adorned his fingers, fans couldn’t help but notice the simple silver band on his left ring finger. Paparazzi would occasionally catch him out in public with various women, leading his fans to speculate wildly who his mystery wife was.

But as soon as the rumors got started, they were quickly shut down. He was photographed once stumbling out of a club in New York with SNL star Robin Buckley on his arm. Social media went absolutely rabid and Robin made sure to clear things up the following Saturday on Weekend Update, announcing that she was in fact, a raging lesbian.

Not too long after that, Eddie was photographed clinking wine glasses with accomplished journalist Nancy Wheeler at a romantic rooftop restaurant in LA. When rumors started swirling around them of a secret affair, Nancy’s husband (and Rolling Stone photographer) Jonathan Byers put a stop to it by posting a picture of all three of them on his socials explaining that they were long time friends and out celebrating Nancy’s nomination for a Pulitzer.

Again the rumor mill started churning when Eddie was spotted giving a piggyback ride to pro skateboarder Max Mayfield after one of her competitions. Accusations of him “robbing the cradle” had her immediately posting a video on TikTok telling everyone off, fake gagging, and saying that Eddie was like her big brother. She then pulled Eddie into the frame asking, “Would you losers seriously believe I’d be into this ugly mug?” before promptly shoving his face away. Eddie was only a little offended.

Max’s video kind of blew up though, with everyone demanding more of Eddie’s presence on the app. Reluctantly he started his own account, his first video of him backstage at his sold out Madison Square Garden show, simply flashing the devil horns, sticking out his tongue, and greeting, “Hey assholes!”

It effectively broke the internet.

He was verified within a matter of hours, and had millions of followers within the first day.

Now all he had to do was figure out what the hell he was going to post. He didn’t want to share too much of his private life, but scrolling through the comments, he could see how much his fans truly loved seeing just that brief candid moment from him. So he started sharing bits and pieces behind the scenes at his shows, shots of the guys hanging out on the tour bus, and one lazy morning, a glimpse of his sleep-rumpled self in bed and his birds nest of bed head.

The comments on that last one exploded.

Everyone wanted to know who he was sharing that bed with, asking for a peek at his wife, if she was also famous. Who was he married to for god’s sake?!

He refused to take the bait.

One afternoon he set up his living room for a TikTok live, planning on just strumming his guitar, answering questions about the new album that was coming out, maybe taking some requests for songs to play. While he was glancing at the comments and plucking away at his acoustic, he didn’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps coming towards the room. He startled when he heard, “Babe, I’m home! I got you some more Honeycombs!”

Eddie froze. And the comments went absolutely fucking wild.

“Wait, was that a dude?!”

“Did some guy just call him babe???”

“SPOUSE REVEAL?!?!”

“OMG IS HE GAY???? I LOVE THIS FOR US!!”

“Oh I am so invested in this! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈”

“Honeycombs?! Really?!”

Eddie scrambled to set his guitar down, quickly thanked everyone for tuning in, and cut off the live stream.

Steve stepped into the room with a questioning look on his face. “Babe?… what’s wrong?”

Eddie glanced at him sheepishly mumbling, “We may have just spilled the beans on a live stream.”

“You were doing a live stream? What happened? And wait, what beans?”

Sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair, Eddie stood up and walked over to Steve, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I was doing a TikTok live, playing some songs and talking about the new record. I didn’t hear you come in, and when you shouted that you were home, it was apparently loud enough for everyone to hear. So I shut it down fast before the comments got even more out of control. I didn’t know what to say!”

Steve leaned in and gave Eddie a peck on the nose, hugged him tight, and asked, “Well… how bad were the comments? Do you think people are gonna freak out?”

“Freak out? In a good way, maybe. They all seemed pretty surprised to hear a guy’s voice and were asking for a spouse reveal.”

Steve furrowed his brows and thought about it for a few moments. “What if we did?”

“Did what?”

“A spouse reveal. I gotta admit, it’s been pretty annoying having everyone assume you’re sleeping with our friends! I don’t really like the idea of being in the public eye, but what if we just did a quick video or something to put the rumors to bed for good?”

Admittedly it was a pretty good idea. Eddie liked being able to share parts of his life with his fans, and Steve was the biggest part of his life. It would be nice to show him off for a moment and finally tell the world who put that ring on his finger.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok! Let’s do it!”

Eddie grabbed his phone, opened TikTok, and got comfy on the couch. Steve sat down next to him, cuddled into his side. He started the video with the camera just on himself, took a deep breath, and hit record.

“Hey guys! Sorry to dip out of my live stream so suddenly. I was a little thrown off with that interruption, but thought it would be best to come on here and clear the air. Yes, I’m married. Yes, my spouse is a man. Yes, my favorite cereal is Honeycombs, don’t come at me for that! And this is Steve.”

He tilted his phone so both his and Steve’s faces were in the frame. Steve smiled brightly and did a little finger wave. “Hey everybody!”

Eddie giggled and turned to kiss Steve on the cheek. Even after years of being together, Eddie’s affections still made him blush. Steve turned at looked at Eddie with stars in his eyes and whispered, “I love you babe.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

They shared a brief kiss before Eddie ended the video and immediately posted it.

He effectively broke the internet again.

Millions of likes and comments flooded in, a huge wave of love and support from his fans. And of course, more questions.

“Shut up, they are so fucking cute I’m gonna puke”

“I’m so sad that the married rumors are true, but omg his husband is crazy hot! Good for him!”

“His name is Steve?! Why is that so adorable?!”

“Find yourself a man who looks at you like Steve looks at Eddie!”

“Who is this Steve?! TELL! ME! EVERYTHING!”

“We demand more Steve!”

“Ok I need more details immediately”

The demand for more Steve content did not stop. Eddie still wanted to keep his private life as private as possible, but Steve had no problem with popping up in a few videos here and there. Rolling his eyes in the background at Eddie’s antics, hands on his hips while scolding the band for being late to an interview, painting Eddie’s nails backstage before a show. Just little glimpses of Steve being Steve. His fans ate that shit up.

One night Eddie was left to his own devices while Steve was out having a “girls night” with Robin, Nancy, Max, and El. Why he wasn’t invited too he will never know. Not that he was jealous or anything. Totally not jealous. He decided to set up another TikTok live while he screwed around on his guitar. About an hour in, the front door flew open and in stumbled a very flushed, very giggly, very drunk Steve.

“BABE! I SAW ARIANA GRANDE TONIGHT!”

Eddie started laughing as Steve made his way into the living room, glancing at how the comments went absolutely apeshit again.

“Stevie, sweetheart, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Steve took the guitar out of Eddie’s hands and plopped down in his lap. “Babe, seriously! I saw Ariana Grande! Me and the girls went to some club and Nancy got us into the VIP section, and there she was! Just! Sitting there looking all cool and famous! Babe, it was awesome!”

Chuckling, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, kissed him on his temple, and pointed at his phone set up on a tripod. “Stevie, you interrupted my live stream again. Say hi to everyone!”

Steve turned his head towards the phone, eyebrows raising up, and smiled dopily. “Oh! Hi guys! Did you hear?? I saw Ariana Grande!” He then quickly snapped his drunken gaze back towards Eddie. “OH MY GOD! Babe! Do you think she’s on here?! Can you message her?!” He turned back to the phone shouting, “Ariana! I’m Steve! We should hang out! Eddie, tell her we should hang out!”

Eddie started cackling and patted Steve’s head like a puppy. “Ok big boy, you’ve clearly had enough. Sorry guys, I’m gonna have to cut the stream short and put this one to bed. And uh, yeah. Ariana Grande, if you’re into hanging out with preppy former jocks who like to snuggle while they’re wasted, let me know I guess. Goodnight!”

Eddie looked down at Steve, who had tucked himself into Eddie’s chest while he was talking, and gave a little kiss on his head before ending the live stream.

“Hmmm… sleepy.”

“I know you’re sleepy sweetheart, let’s get you into jammies and tuck you in.”

The next morning Eddie awoke to a hungover Steve groaning into his neck, and a message on TikTok from none other than Ariana Grande.

“What the fuck?!”

“Hng… too loud.”

“Sweetheart. Stevie. Wake up!”

“No.” Steve pulled the covers over his face.

“Honey, seriously, you need to wake up. You’ve gotta see this.”

“Eds, I don’t wanna see shit, I wanna sleep.”

“Stevie, do you remember coming home last night and telling everyone on TikTok that you want to hang out with Ariana Grande?”

Steve flipped the covers back off and gave him an incredulous look. “I did not.”

“Yeah princess, you did. You stumbled in talking about how you saw her at a club and wanted to hang out with her. And guess the fuck what.”

“…….what?”

Eddie turned his phone for Steve to see the message.

“What the?… ‘Hey Eddie! I caught your livestream last night and my answer is yes! Steve seems like an absolute doll, I’d love to hang out with him’”

Steve looked at him with wide eyes and just stared for few beats.

“SHE WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH ME?!”

His volume made both men wince, Steve immediately grabbing his throbbing head and groaning.

“Yes, sweetheart, apparently babbling drunk gay men are her thing. So, when should I tell her you’re free?”

The following Wednesday, Steve was a nervous wreck. He had cleaned the house from top to bottom, prepped a gorgeous charcuterie board, had wine chilling in the fridge, and checked his hair about 30 times.

“Stevie, darling, sweetheart. You’ve got to calm down.”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! Eddie, Ariana fucking Grande is coming to our house! How is this even happening? What if we don’t have anything in common? What if she thinks I’m an awkward idiot? I don’t wanna screw this up!”

Eddie wrapped Steve up in his arms and gave him a tight squeeze. “You won’t screw anything up. Everyone loves you Stevie. Just be you, and she’ll love you too. And if you’re freaking out, I’m a phone call away, alright? I should only be at the studio for a few hours and then I’ll be home before you know it. You two will have a great time! Ok?!”

Steve let out a long suffering sigh. “Ok.”

The doorbell rang and Eddie took his hand, walking with Steve to go greet their guest of honor. As soon as the door opened, Ariana Grande herself was standing there with a huge smile on her face. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you!” She immediately gave Steve a hug and barley even acknowledged Eddie standing there.

“Ok. Well. I guess I’m not needed here. Have fun you two! Don’t do anything I would do!” Steve laughed and gave him a quick peck before leading his guest into the house.

After a few hours of polishing some tracks on the new album, Eddie headed back home. He hadn’t heard from Steve the whole time he was out, and hoped that everything went smoothly with his new friend. Or whatever the hell this was.

Opening his front door, he was greeted with the sounds of giggles, clinking glass, and… are they watching Twilight?!

He pulled out his phone and started recording as he walked into the living room. “Here I am, coming home after hours of slaving away on our new album to find THIS.” He flipped the camera around to a view of Steve and apparently his new best friend, snuggled under a blanket, wine glasses in hand, a few empty bottles on the table, surrounded by a mess of crumbs, giggling at blue-tinted vampires playing baseball.

He flipped the camera back to himself, sulking “I think I’ve been replaced.”

Internet: broken.

“Did they just become best friends?!”

“Awwwww I want Steve Snuggles!”

“Living for this!!!!”

“#stevesnuggles”

“Wait, did he make her a charcuterie board??”

In the weeks that followed, #stevesnuggles took over social media. Everyone and their mother was gushing about Eddie’s adorable husband, wanting to see more of him, and his snuggles. Eddie couldn’t blame them, really. The man is adorable. But he still wanted to keep sort of a lid on their private life, so he limited most of his posts to just Corroded Coffin content. Anticipation for the new album was amping up, a tour was being planned, and the buzz was buzzing.

Unfortunately with all of the work leading up to the release, Eddie wasn’t getting enough of his daily allotment of Steve Time. He was looking forward to the weekend when his schedule was clear so he could finally have some quality time with his husband and soak up all of those famous snuggles.

Life had other plans, though. Friday afternoon he got a text from Steve saying that it was his turn to host girls night. Again, why was Eddie not invited to these things?? Not that he was jealous. Of course not. That would be crazy. He resigned himself to the fact that tonight, he’d have to share his husband.

When he stepped into their home, he immediately recognized the honking laughter of a tipsy Robin, Nancy’s adorable giggle, but there were several other voices he couldn’t decipher. Thinking ahead, he once again pulled out his phone and started recording.

“HONEY, I’M HO- the fuck?!”

It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. He flipped the camera around to focus on the absurd cuddle puddle on the floor. In a pile of what must have been every blanket and pillow in the house, was the obvious collection of Steve, Nancy, Robin, and apparently now Ariana. But then…

“Sweetheart, why are Rhianna and Taylor Swift on our living room floor?”

Steve just looked up at him pie-eyed and sweetly stated, “Girls night!” to which the bizzare collection of women shouted, “Hi Eddie!”

How many times can you break the internet before it stays broken?

“WHAT. THE FUCK.”

“Ummmmm best girls night ever?”

“How do I get an invite??”

“So Steve is just a magnet for powerful women then. Got it.”

“#STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

Steve snuggles indeed. Eddie was so used to being in the limelight, it was a strange adjustment to have his once under the radar husband be in such high demand. Every time he posted a TikTok of the band, the comments were flooded with requests for more Steve. He did sometimes cave and give the people what they wanted. Quick videos of Steve cooking them dinner while dancing to his god forsaken pop music, sneak peeks of some of their new songs with Steve singing along, and ok, one thirst trap of him working out in their home gym. Eddie was a just a man after all, and his husband was hot.

The album was finally released and sales were through the roof. Corroded Coffin had never sold so many copies before and someone from the label insisted that their TikTok presence had everything to do with it. Was it actually them, or the love for Steve? Who’s to say. Either way, their concerts across the country were sold out in a matter of minutes and the band couldn’t wait to kick off their next tour.

The first show was in LA and Eddie had planned to do a quick TikTok before they took the stage. He started in the hallway backstage, welcoming everyone to the start of the tour, and made his way into the green room. “Alright everyone, let’s check in quick with the band and make sure these dickheads are ready to go! BOYS! ARE WE - Steve?! What the hell?”

He flipped the camera around to the view of Steve happily scrolling on his phone on one of the couches. With Dua Lipa cuddled up on one side of him and Lady goddamn Gaga on the other. What the fuck is his life?

“Babe! Hi! The girls were in town and came by to check out the show!”

“I’m sorry… THE GIRLS?! How do you even know them?!”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him like he was an idiot and said, “Lipa was on SNL and she had Robin get us connected. And Jon did a photo shoot with Stef and…basically the same thing.”

Stef?! Who the fuck is Stef? Wait right… Lada Gaga is a stage name.

Eddie flipped the camera back on himself and just. Stared. “I…I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”

Queue the comments.

“Ok is he like best friends with EVERY icon?!”

“Steve IS the icon! 💅”

“What’s a girl gotta do to get some #stevesnuggles in here?!”

“Omfg Eddie’s never gonna get his own #stevesnuggles now is he?”

“SHARE THE WEALTH”

“I can’t believe this app is free”

From there on the tour went off without a hitch and fans in every city were rabid for the new album. And of course Steve. Goddamnit. He’d occasionally see people in the crowd with “#stevesnuggles” t-shirts, or hear chants of “We want Steve!” Yeah, Eddie gets it. He wants Steve too. For himself.

Eddie took to posting a lot of videos from backstage with the band, sound checks, screwing around with the crew. And of course to appease the masses, some of Steve in his element. Putting on Gareth’s eyeliner, helping Jeff pick out his stage clothes, and rubbing Eddie’s shoulders after a grueling show. Just Steve mother henning everyone.

When they made it to New York, they had an appearance on SNL a few days before their concert. They got to catch up with Robin, meet the cast, and get a feel for what went into producing the show. Eddie hadn’t heard who the host was, not that it probably mattered much since they’d only see them at the end-of-show sign off.

He was in the middle of doing a livestream behind the scenes, walking the legendary halls of Studio 8H when he popped into his dressing room to show off the digs. “And here we have my office for the night…. Uh. Stevie? What? The fuck?” He turned the camera around to see Steve snuggled up with… goddamn Beyoncé.

“Hey babe! Did you meet Bee yet? She’s hosting tonight!”

No the fuck he didn’t meet “Bee!” And sorry, his husband is already on a nickname basis with this Queen?! Who the hell did he marry??

Goodbye internet.

“HOLY. SHIT.”

“Seriously, gay men have all the luck.”

“Two absolute queens, omg”

“BEYONCÉ GETS #STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

“Eddie, your husband belongs to Bee now, my condolences”

“Don’t tell Jay Z”

The show went well even though Eddie was visibly shook by his husband’s new friend. Seriously, what is his life?! How much further was this going to go? He was relieved when the tour finally ended and they could go back to their bubble of domestic bliss. That is, until the next girls night probably!

Once they were back home and settled into their routine, he realized he needed to make some more content now that things have calmed down. Privacy was always important to him, but after a night of taking his husband apart over and over, he smirked and had an idea.

Quietly grabbing his phone off the nightstand, he started recording. Steve with his chaotic sex hair, neck covered in hickies, and curled up sound asleep on Eddie’s chest. A chest that was decorated in tattoos and nipple piercings, as well as fresh scratch marks. Eddie smirked at the camera, winked and whispered “hashtag Steve snuggles.”

RIP internet.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jace hockey Au where Cregan is captain and jace and reader are fwb. They inevitably catch feelings. One try to distance from the other, but Jace get hurt when you’re not at the game (hospital hurt) and maybe something about aegon hurting him and being in another team? I NEED a hockey au!!!!!!

Although I'm Canadian and should know a lot about hockey, my knowledge comes from going to my little cousin's games a few years ago and the hockey smut books from booktok. Don't take anything too seriously, there's high chances I made mistakes

Also, this is 3.2k and I don't know how I got there. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, smut, p+v, mention of fingering,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Tonight’s game against the Falcons had everyone on the edge of their seats up until the last second. The score was a tie and, with less than three minutes to the third period, the chances of winning before hearing the end buzzer were slim. Very slim. But not impossible because Jacaerys — thanks to a great pass from Cregan — skated his way to scoring the winning goal.

Music blared from the speakers of the frat house when the last of the Wolves bustled through the door, fresh out of their post-game showers and ready to party. 

Cregan and Jacaerys were at the front of the group, the former’s arm thrown over Jace’s shoulders and shaking him as everyone inside cheered and whooped for them. 

‘’Here come the MVP of the night!’’ Cregan shouted over the noise. ‘’Someone bring him a beer!’’ 

The chaos at the door pulled your attention from the story Baela was telling you, your eyes focussed on Jace who was laughing under his teammate’s enthusiastic grip, his dark curls still slightly damp from the shower.

Goddamn, he looked gorgeous. 

Baela smirked and nudged you. ‘’Looks like your boy just came in,’’ she pointed out, nodding towards the entrance where Jace was standing, still surrounded by the cheering crowd.

You tore your eyes away from Jacaerys. ‘’He’s not ‘my boy’,’’ you told her for the third time, rolling your eyes as you took a sip of your drink. ‘’We’re just friends.’’ 

‘’Whatever makes you sleep at night,’’ she teased, a knowing glint in her eyes. ‘’Or not sleep.’’ 

You mentally groaned. If you had been more careful, she would never have had this awkward run-in with Jace last Wednesday at the dorm and therefore would not know about you fucking the Wolves’ center player on the side. 

A beer was brought to him and he took a long and deserved gulp. More of his teammates crowded around him, accompanied by a hoard of puck bunnies. They were easy to recognize as they only hung around hockey players at parties. Most of the time, they didn’t know much about hockey, they only wanted to stroke a player’s ego in hopes of getting in their pants. 

You grimaced at the blonde hanging at Jacaerys’ arm and left to look for Rhaena, pulling Baela along.  

Later into the night, you were talking to Rhaena about Baela’s last Tinder date disaster when you felt a hand on the small of your back. Usually, you would have pushed them off you, but the smirk on Baela’s face told you exactly who it was. As if the woodsy cologne wasn’t enough.

‘’There you are,’’ he said to you, a beer in his other hand, then turned to the twins. ‘’Did you girls enjoy the game tonight?’’ 

Attending the Wolves' hockey games on Fridays had become a routine with your friends. It was a great way to unwind from school and encourage college peers. You used to go alone with Rhaena as you were both friends with Jace, but Baela began tagging along when she found out how hot their captain was. 

‘’Rhaena had to bail on this one. One of the baristas called in so she had to take an extra shift at the campus coffee house,’’ you explained. 

Rhaena nodded, annoyance toward her co-worker visible in her face. ‘’I heard you scored the winning goal. Congratulation!’’ She extended her arm to clink her beer with Jace’s. 

He thanked her, his hand slipping underneath your shirt to stroke your soft skin. You leaned into his touch, pleased with the discreet intimate touch. 

‘’So, how does it feel to be the hero of the night?’’ Baela asked, smirking again. 

Jace rubbed the back of his neck, his dark curls bouncing slightly. ‘’I would not call myself a hero,’’ he corrected, a shy smile at the corner of his lips. ‘’I couldn’t have done it without Cregan’s pass.’’ 

Across the kitchen, the girl who’d attached herself to his arm earlier seemed less than happy he was talking to the three of you. When Jace spotted her, he groaned. 

‘’Not again… I’ve been running from Clemence for the past ten minutes. Some girls can’t take a hint.’’ He didn’t want to leave — you didn’t want him to either —, but running from puck bunnies was sometimes easier than dealing with them. ‘’I’ll see you later?’’ he said to you, cocking an eyebrow as he waited for your answer. 

You nodded, impatient to get your mouth on that dick. 

⁂

‘’Do that again!’’ you begged, completely forgetting about the other Wolves players who had their rooms nearby. 

Below you, Jace gripped your hips and gave another upward thrust, making you gasp in delight as his cock hit every single good place inside of you. 

‘’Ah, yes!’’ Bracing your hands on his abs, you threw your head back, your perky tits swaying as you moved your hips and bounced on his cock, riding him until your legs were shaking from pain. ‘’I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,’’ you warned, starting to feel yourself approaching the edge.

Getting the message, Jace brought his hand to where you were joined and rubbed your swollen clit with his thumb until a long, drawn out moan left your lips, your orgasm hitting you like a brick wall, your pussy spasming around him.

You collapsed on Jacaerys’ chest, out of breath and eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continued to fuck into you, drawing out your orgasm until he finally reached his own. 

Despite the ache in your legs, you moved off him and flopped on the bed while Jace ran a hand through his hair. ‘’That was your reward for the goal you scored tonight,’’ you said, making Jace laugh as he tossed the condom in the trash. 

He rearranged his body so his head was on the pillow instead of the mattress, tiredness catching him after his game and the sex. ‘’I’ll try to score goal like that more often.’’ 

You joined him in his laughter. 

⁂

The next Friday, the Wolves were playing out of town…in another state. You tried to get a spot on the supporter bus, but all spots were already taken, forcing you to miss the game.  

You busied yourself for the night, making the last corrections on your paper that was due on Monday. It should have been finished days ago, but you got…distracted. 

At around 10pm, your phone buzzed with a text when Jace made it back to the bus. It was a picture of him in the darkness of the bus, a big winning grin on his face.

Jace: I expect a victory kiss when I get back 

Victory kiss he got when you saw him on Saturday at the Omega Phi party. 

⁂

When you started college, you promised yourself to never be the girl who gets fucked in a bathroom at parties, but here you were with your tits out and Jacaerys’s skilled hand under your dress. And you had absolutely no regrets. It was part of the college experience. 

You rearranged the bottom of your dress before slipping out of the bathroom and looking for your friends. Music pounded in your ears as you walked through the people, searching for a white-haired girl in a blue skirt. 

Baela had worn her most flattering skirt, set on getting Cregan’s attention tonight. They knew each other, but she was tired of being overshadowed by puck bunnies playing dumb or flashing their tits in his face. 

‘’Did you speak to Cregan yet?’’ you asked once you found her in the kitchen. ‘’I saw him in the living room with Benjen and Niklaus. No girls in sight. This is your chance if you—’’ 

Baela interrupted you, noticing the wrinkles on your dress and a mark on your neck.  ‘’Please tell me you were not doing what I think in a random person’s bedroom? Do you know the risks of getting an STI?’’ 

You poured yourself a drink, avoiding her eyes. ‘’I was not…doing that. I was also not not doing that,’’ you said, taking a sip to hide your smile behind your red cup. 

⁂

After Sunday practice, you met Jace and Cregan at the pancake place just outside campus. 

‘’Sorry, I’m late!’’ you apologized, walking over to their table in a sweatshirt and leggings. No other attire was acceptable on Sundays. ‘’I couldn’t find my dorm key and Baela’s dad is here for the weekend, so she was already out when I woke up.’’ 

Jace shook his head. ‘’It’s fine. I ordered for you already.’’

You slid into the booth, your stomach growling in appreciation. ‘’Thanks, I’m starving. Have you guys heard about Cassandra from Zeta Alpha Zeta? According to Rhaena, she was caught leaving a bedroom with Marcus at Omega Phi’s party…if you know what I mean.’’ 

There were likely kids at this restaurant, so you switched some of the vocabulary to spare their young ears and not receive looks from parents.

‘’The guy on the swim team?’’ Jace asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hummed as you took a sip of his berry smoothie, and dove deeper into campus gossips. Working at the coffee house had its perks: you were hearing all sorts of dramas. 

Before you, Cregan seemed less interested in the gossip than you and Jace, but he humored you with a nod. ‘’We can switch so you can sit next to your girlfriend,’’ he offered, starting to stand up, but Jace was quick to correct him.

‘’We’re not dating,’’ Jace said, a little too fast for your liking. ‘’We’re just friends.’’ 

Cregan snickered, settling back into his seat. 

⁂

You hated yourself for staying for a movie after sex, but you were unable to say ‘no’ to Jace’s Puss in Boots pout. Besides, you were friends before you added the benefits part. Watching movies was part of the things you did together. 

As the movie played, Jace broke the silence. ‘’I tried to call you this afternoon, and it went to voicemail. I thought you didn’t have any classes?’’ 

‘’I didn’t. I went to the library,’’ you replied, your eyes still on the screen, trying to keep it casual.  ‘’I was studying with a guy from my English class.’’ 

‘’A guy?’’ Jace’s eyes narrowed.

‘’Aemond. He’s in my English class—’’ 

‘’Are you kidding? Aemond?’’ Jace sat up, sheets pooling around his waist. He recognized the name instantly. ‘’You need to stay away from this guy. His brother is captain of the Dragons — our rival team. The same guy who bullied me at hockey camp when I was a kid. He’s probably just asking you out to piss me off.’’

A laugh escaped your lips, more incredulous than amused. ‘’Why would he do such a thing? Aemond is a nice guy.’’

Jace's frustration boiled over. ‘’You don't get it! That whole family is fucking snakes. During my rookie year, Aegon and I were in a corner of the ice and he chucked one of his teammates from behind and blamed me. I was benched for misconduct and not allowed to play for three weeks. And right now you’re giving him material to piss me off!’’ 

You sighed, still on your defenses. Being part of the same family doesn’t make him the same as his brother. ‘’Just because his brother was nasty to you doesn’t mean Aemond’s a bad person.’’ 

‘’He is! We play against the Dragons this Friday. Aegon is probably scheming something…’’ Jace ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, his voice rising. ‘’What are you doing?’’ 

‘’I’m leaving,’’ you said firmly, pushing off the bed. 

You moved around the room, searching for your things, fed up with arguing over an old hockey rivalry. What a moodkill to your night! You slipped your shirt on without another word and without bothering to look for your bra. Before leaving, you grabbed your jacket from the back of the desk chair, uncovering Jace's hockey hoodie, a stark reminder of what just set off this argument.

⁂

Three days went by without hearing from Jace. You saw him on campus yesterday, and he switched directions as soon as he spotted you. It was clear he was avoiding you, and you were doing the same.

Back in your dorm, you watched Baela getting ready, her makeup scattered across her bed. She hummed softly to a Taylor Swift song as she applied her lipstick. 

‘’I was kind of hoping we would have a girls night with Rhaena. Facemasks, sushi and rom-coms, like we used to,’’ you said, sitting on your bed, your voice tinged with disappointment. ‘’It's been so long since we last had one. I think the last time was for your birthday…which was three months ago.’’

Baela glanced at you, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. ‘’I know, I miss our girls nights too. But I’m seeing Cregan in fifteen minutes.’’ An exhilarated smile spread on her glossed lips. ‘’Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s happening!’’

You were genuinely happy for her, but a small part of you couldn’t help but wish Cregan would call and cancel at the last minute. Did that make you a shitty friend?

‘’Have you spoken to Jace?’’

You shook your head, fiddling with the bottom of your sweater. It’s difficult to talk to someone when you’re actively avoiding each other. 

Baela sighed, knowing drama would erupt when you agreed to this friends with benefits thing. She’s seen enough movies to know how it always ends. She reached for her shoes and purse, ready to leave. ‘’Rhaena is working the closing shift, so if you’re really lonely you can call her. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’’ 

You nodded and wished her a good time for her date. 

After she was gone, you hesitated for a moment before deciding to reach out to Aemond and asking if he wanted to get coffee. 

⁂

On Friday, Baela and Rhaena were at the game, so you found yourself alone watching Netflix in bed. The new rom-com starring Sidney Sweeney had just hit the streaming service and you were impatient to see it. The male protagonist had nothing appealing, but the storyline sounded fun. 

You were half-way through your bag of Skittles when your phone buzzed with multiple messages. You expected some of them to be from the girls updating you on the game, but you were surprised to see they were from Cregan Stark. 

Cregan: Hey, it’s Cregan. I don’t know where you are, but your boyfriend got hurt at the game. It’s bad. 

You almost corrected him about the use of ‘boyfriend’, but your heart stopped as you read the next messages. 

Cregan: Him and Aegon got into an argument before the game outside the arena and it carried on on the ice. During the third period, Aegon checked Jace and he flew right into the boards. He went down hard and got knocked unconscious. The medic team took him in an ambulance. 

Cregan: He’s at the hospital. Please come. 

You stared at the screen, the words blurring as panic set in. Just because you were not on speaking terms at the moment didn’t mean you didn’t care about him. 

You scrambled off the bed, grabbing your dorm keys and shoes with trembling hands. Within moments, you were out the door, your heart pounding as you took a cab to the hospital. Please be okay. Please be okay.

The journey there felt like an eternity. You re-read Cregan’s messages over again, the twins’s messages coming in at the same time. You ignored them, too into panic mode to type anything back. You arrived at the hospital, breathless and disoriented, and searched for a tall, bearded hockey player.

You found him in a hallway outside a rows of rooms, his face tense with worry. 

‘’Is he okay? Where is he?’’ you asked, your voice shaky. 

‘’He’s stable now, but they are keeping him for the night due to his concussion,’’ Cregan replied, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to your panic. ‘’I have to call his mom. And Coach, to update him on the situation. Can you stay here?’’

You nodded quickly. ‘’Yes. Of course.’’ 

You gave him a small smile, a silent promise to watch over Jace during his absence, and took a deep breath before nervously pushing the door open. 

Inside, the usually bright lights were dimmed due to the concussion. Jace lay on the hospital bed, looking pale and asleep. An IV was hooked to his arm, and the room was filled with the faint beeping of monitors. The door creaked as it closed behind you, causing Jace’s eyes to flutter open. He assumed it was either Cregan or a nurse checking on him, but it was you.

‘’Where’s Cregan?’’ he murmured, his voice raspy as he stared at the white wall. 

‘’Making calls,’’ you said softly, walking up to his bedside. Tears welled up in your eyes as you took in the sight of him. He was okay. ‘’You scared the hell out of me.’’

‘’Did you go out with him? Aemond.’’ 

His question took you by surprise. ‘’No. Not really. We just got coffee together—’’ 

Pain crossed his face, but it was not from the concussion. ‘’Do you know what Aegon said to me before the game? He talked about you. Said you dumped me for Aemond, and now it was his name you would be moaning in bed. I wanted to punch him so bad for speaking about you like that, but I didn’t because I knew I would be suspended from the team. It got my head out of the game. All I could think about was Aegon and knocking that stupid smirk off his face, but he got me first.’’ 

This Aegon guy sounded like the biggest asshole. 

‘’Aegon was lying, Jace. Aemond and I got coffee together, but that’s it. You can ask Rhaena if you don’t believe me, she was working that night. I never had any other intentions regarding Aemond. He said this to mess with you.’’ 

Jace sighed, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. He felt stupid for believing Aegon. He should have seen through his game instead of letting him get to his head. ‘’Of course he did… I should have known better.’’ 

You took Jace’s hand, only now realizing his other was in a brace. ‘’I’m here with you, aren’t I? Not with Aemond.’’

The corner of his lips curled into a smile, and he squeezed your hand. ‘’You’re my girl, okay? I know we said we were just friends, but are we really just friends? I didn’t write ‘mine’ on your upper thigh just because I was drunk. I wrote it while drunk because I didn’t have the courage to tell you I wanted you when I was sober.’’ 

‘’Jace—’’

‘’Don’t say anything. Just…kiss me. Please. I can’t do a lot of thinking because of my concussion, so let’s keep the talking for later, okay? Right now I just need you to kiss me.’’ You didn’t move, giving Jace the impression you didn’t want to kiss him. ‘’You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna force you to kiss me—’’

You cut him off with a kiss. Soft and slow, making up for the days you didn’t get to kiss him.  

Unfortunately, it ended quickly as a sharp pain stabbed at Jace’s temple and he couldn’t hold back his wince. ‘’I think we’ll keep the kissing for later.’’ 

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9

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[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 2. - Thigh riding / teasing.

bbf! Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Thigh riding + teasing + age gap. (+18)

Word count. 2k

Summary. You hate your brother's best friend. Yeah, the one you are hooking up with.

Kinktober masterlist.

Jake Lockley was an idiot.

The biggest idiot you'd ever met.

He was an idiot when he yelled and clapped in your house as if it were his own because his favorite soccer team had scored a goal, he was an idiot when he put his foot in front of you as you walked pass by him as if he were going to make you trip, and he was idiot when he opened your fridge like he was part of the family.

He was an idiot when he slipped out of your brother's sight to bury his stupid fingers inside of you until you trembled, he was an idiot when he walked behind you groping against your ass on purpose, he was an idiot when he pushed you against the wall to devour your lips like a hungry man and he was definitely an idiot when he wished you goodnight with his beautiful smile before leaving.

But he was a bigger and dumber idiot when he pretended that all of this wasn't happening, and that for him, you were just his best friend's silly little sister.

You had heard him the night before, claiming that he had a date with someone 'hot' (his own words), one of those stunning blondes you see on TV according to your brother, so after understanding the message clearly, you decided that you wanted nothing to do with Jake Lockley anymore.

Although you had said that the last four times.

You were all furrowed brows and pouts without even realizing it. The third time he smiled at you, and all you could muster was a roll of your eyes, he started to worry.

He never liked making you mad. Or at least, not this seriously, because he definitely enjoyed pushing your buttons until you pushed him and your voice got all squeaky when you said, 'Enough, Jake!'

But ignoring him? That was a level he never wanted to reach.

When your brother left the apartment with the excuse of getting pizza for the three of you, he knew it was time to try.

He was sitting on the couch, his legs slightly apart, his back against the backrest, with one of his arms raised over it. It was a good view, but you were stronger than this. You glanced at him for about three seconds as you walked to the kitchen, in a way that seemed so quick that it almost appeared accidental.

"¿Princesa?" He questioned out loud, and you nearly dropped your glass.

Stupid, stupid Jake Lockley.

You didn't respond.

"Hermosa." he cooed again. The only response he got was the sound of ice clinking against the glass.

You took a sip, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

"You know if you don't come, I'm going to come get you, right?" Oh yes, you forgot how irritating he could be when he set his mind to it.

You planted your feet in place.

"I'm going to count to three." Oh no. "Uno."

You looked towards the door. You weren't a little kid; these things didn't work on you.

"Dos."

Besides, Jake wasn't your boss to order you around like this.

"Uno y medio."

You set your glass down and, as if your legs were on autopilot, you spun on your heel and walked out of the kitchen, earning an immediate smile from him.

Not a mocking one, not an annoying one, he actually seemed relieved to have a bit of your attention.

"Ah, there you are."

You stood still without saying anything, unsure of what to do.

"Come here." He patted his lap as an invitation.

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering for a few seconds if it was worth it to lose your dignity like this. You also glanced towards the door, trying to calculate how much time you had before your brother arrived.

In the end, as always, you obeyed. You went over to him and sat sideways on one of his legs.

"No-oh," he shook his head, looking at you from his position, not touching you yet. "Face me." You had to get up again to turn around, his leg nestled between yours as you took your seat again, facing him.

Even if you didn't want to notice it, it was impossible not to feel that delicious pressure against your cunt. And as if by magic Jake brought both hands to your hips, pressing them with his fingers as if you were going to escape his grip.

"What's wrong, huh?" He leaned in just a little to meet your gaze. You hated that there wasn't a hint of teasing in his expression; he genuinely seemed concerned as you crossed your arms and furrowed your brow.

Why were guys so dense? And stupid.

When you didn't respond, a small smile crept onto his face. He made you jump slightly on his thigh as he moved his leg, and a little gasp escaped you. His hands slowly traveled from your hips to your waist.

"You’ve been all grumpy and stuff since I got here, what’s wrong?"

"You should ask your supermodel date."

Ah, bingo. His smile widened.

"She's not a model."

"I don't care what she is."

"Actually, she is..." "I don't want to talk about her." "She's imaginary."

You looked back at him with a furrowed brow after a few seconds. Did he expect you to believe that?

"Ah?"

"She doesn't exist."

"I know what imaginary means."

"Are you sure? I can spell it out for you if you want."

"You're an idiot."

"And you're jealous." His fingers resumed tracing your sides, deciding that your hips would indeed be their resting place. "And you're acting like a brat."

Your expression softened just a bit, but you still wouldn't look at him.

"Look at me while I'm talking to you." His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned in just slightly to seek your gaze.

Nothing made you want to scream until you collapsed a lung more than how stupidly handsome Jake Lockley was. His lips seemed like an eternal invitation to kiss him until you got tired, his chocolate eyes that seemed to dilate when they settled on you, and that one stubborn curl he always fought with, the one that fell onto his forehead for you to move out of the way.

You had joked before, asking him if he wasn't secretly Clark Kent.

Your body responded automatically, leaning in to seek his lips, but he pulled back with a smile.

"Do you think you deserve it after the way you treated me?" His voice was sultry, smooth.

"You're the one talking about other girls." You whispered back with a cute pout on your lips. "Please."

"Please that?"

“Please let me kiss you.”

“Nope.”

Your pout grew bigger as his fingers gave you a squeeze. You didn't understand where he was going until he started guiding your movements, a slow back-and-forth sway that brought a gasp from your throat.

He wasn't going to tell you out loud that he wasn't going to agree to a make out session that threatened to leave him with a boner when your brother arrived.

“I don't like it when you ignore me, princesa.” This time it was him who granted you a pout, his leg lifting a little higher as if he wanted to bury it between yours.

The pressure was stronger and you felt how your juices were beginning to moisten the fabric of his jeans. Your hands were placed over his on your hips and you rested your feet on the floor to have better control over your movements.

Back and forth, slowly.

"Sorry." You whispered breathlessly, your eyes boring into his as he enjoyed the blush on your cheeks.

Jake knew how to play, but you were always a good opponent.

You closed your eyes while biting your bottom lip as you pretended to ride his leg. He could only imagine how delicious it would be to just take you there on the couch.

With your hands on his, you slowly guided them up your body, rising them to your breasts.

You made him squeeze your tits and a louder moan came out of your throat.

“Fuck.” You whispered as the pace of your hips increased. The friction of the fabric of your panties against Jake's pants created a delicious heat in your already sensitive little pussy.

You knew without looking that your skin would already be red.

“That's how you like it, princesa?” He whispered, his gaze fixed on you as if you were a work of art.

Your lips were parted for mostly, except for when you bit the bottom one from time to time to allow yourself to hiss, your cheeks flushed and your eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed now for a completely different reason than a few minutes ago.

“Look at you, so wet and desperate for me.” His thumbs delicately traced your nipples over the fabric of your dress, they were now noticeable because of how hard he had made them. “You miss me fucking you with my fingers, don't you, mi amor? That’s why you’ve been acting like such a bitch to me.”

Stupid Jake Lockley with his stupid voice with his stupid accent and his stupid way of making you go crazy.

You nodded submissively, your body leaning forward until you could rest your forehead against his. Being able to look at your begging eyes closer was something he would thank you for later.

“W-Why…” You stammered, taking a deep breath. “Did you invent a girlfriend?”

He chuckled. You couldn't leave the subject alone, could you?

“Because everyone is asking questions about it.” He kissed your lips briefly, almost making you beg for more. “For my parents, I am now single forever.”

This time you laughed. The rhythm of your pace didn't stop and you were both so close to one another that Jake felt the touch of your tongue when you licked your lips.

“That can be solv… A-Ah, Jake. Mhm, s-shit.”

Your little hole started to clench around nothing, you were so close you could feel your entire body tense, Jake's hands working on your boobs in the way he knew you liked.

He was so obsessed with pleasing you that you hadn't even gone to the next level, he had promised himself to do it until he perfectly memorized the things that drove your body crazy.

“Are you close, princesa?” He was staring at you, he was craving watching you cum. “Are you going to give it to me?”

You nodded awkwardly, the couch squeaking with the clumsy and desperate way you moved. Your skin was beginning to tingle, a growing heat pooling on the bottom of your abdomen, you were about to make a mess on Jake's leg.

Until of course, a pair of keys clanged against the door.

He pushed you, you stood up as quickly as you could, pulling the hem of your dress to accommodate it, still dizzy from the pleasure and how abruptly it stopped. Your vision was blurry and your chest rose and fell rapidly trying to stabilize your breathing.

"Pizza." Was the only thing your brother said as he dropped his keys to the side, lifting the two boxes in his hand.

Jake covered the wet spot on his pants by placing a pillow on his lap.

“Is she bothering you, Lockley?” He joked, giving you a push that almost sent you to the ground. Not exactly because of the force, but because you were still with your legs nailed to the ground, pressing your thighs together to seek some relief.

“Not at all, she's the one who has to deal with me.” He muttered with that same darn smile on his face.

When your brother walked into the kitchen and the two of you were alone, even if it was just for a few seconds, he looked at you and you looked back at him.

“I'll go to your room in a few hours.” He whispered, nibbling on his bottom lip with what you could identify as eagerness.

You nodded, turning on your own two feet to head to the kitchen as well, biting your bottom lip too, trying to hide your smile.

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet

Remember to comment if you want to be on the kinktober tag list!! <3

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: you’re not you when you’re hungry

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: G

genre: Fluff, could be read as romantic or platonic

pairing: Alastor x Reader

summary: Alastor looks about ready to end Vaggie, and you piece together it’s because he hasn’t eaten. So, you make him some food!

You watched closely as Alastor’s eye twitched while Vaggie went through her list of to-do’s. You knew that angels didn’t have to eat, which made so much more sense after finding out that Vaggie was an angel. That was the difference for demons though. Demons, sinners, and any hell born had to eat.

You briefly wondered if Alastor had eaten today. You’d never say anything but you saw he forgot to eat as often as you did. It could have been something else than forgetting, but you chalked it up to forgetting.

‘That would be why he was cranky,’ you mused to yourself. You hopped off your stool and made your way to the kitchen. Quickly you pulled together your own famous Spiced Alfredo and used some of the venison you knew Alastor kept in the refrigerator. He was always stocked up… even though he constantly forgot to eat, which was humorous. You finished off the sauce and pasta, hearing loud yelling and the static that accompanied an upset Alastor.

You quickly finished the plate, placed it at the bar on the island in the kitchen and dashed out, the dashing helping your cause as you looked so disheveled as you just about crashed into the lobby. You panted and leaned against your arm, anchoring it on the wall.

“Al-Alastor.” You called, still out of breath. Whatever Alastor was about to respond to Vaggie, who looked enraged, was stopped as he turned to you. He glared at you, his eyes narrowing.

“What is it?” His voice tight with annoyance.

“I need your help. Seriously. I think only you can fix this.” He sighs, his teeth grinding in his smile.

“We’ll finish this when I come back.” He remarked to Vaggie and she glared at him as he left the lobby. You stood staring at him when he stood in front of you. His head tilted.

“Where to?” He asked, gesturing to the hall behind you.

“Oh! Yes!” You walked to the kitchen and heard a stomach growl as you got closer and the scent of the pasta got stronger. You hid your smile as you turned the corner and pointed to the seat. “Sit.” Alastor looked at you and did so.

“I’m not sure how this is helping anything-“ He cut off his sentence as you placed the large plate of food in front of him.

“Eat. You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You chuckle at the joke Alastor would not get, as you turn and toast some bread, finishing up the meal you were making. You heard him set his staff down and the clink of him picking up his fork. You look behind and see him moving the pasta around and sniffing the food suspiciously. “I didn’t poison it.” You say in disgust, rolling your eyes as you walk toward him spreading butter on the toast and placing three slices on his plate.

“Can’t ever be too sure.” He deadpans. “Is this?” He trails off looking at you.

“Venison, yes.” You say chuckling as you finish up a cup of coffee as well. “My famous Spiced Alfredo? Also, yes.” You set the coffee down in front of him, black, but brewed with a bit of salt to take out the bitterness. “Black coffee? Of course it is. You only drink coffee.” You roll your eyes and take off your apron, seeing Alastor take his first bite, his eyes widening. You turn to him and raise your eye brows, sipping your own coffee, but with sugar and cream.

“You like it?” You ask as Alastor takes another bite, just nodding. “Good. Eat and then you can do whatever you were doing. Otherwise you were going to kill someone because you were hangry.” You laugh and go to leave, to give Alastor some peace, when his hand lands on your arm, stopping you so gently. You look at him questioningly, and then he pulls out the seat next to you, a wordless invitation. “I’m not eating anything though.” You warn.

“That’s fine.” He says, taking another bite. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“Well, in my time, we had TV and there was a channel called Food Network. All these great chefs would have different TV shows and you could learn how to cook. I never had formal training but I learned how to cook by watching them.” You laugh.

“Fascinating. Tell me more.” Alastor prompted as he continued to eat, listening to you talk about your favorite show and even some of the gossip that was supposedly fact. Alastor never expected kindness like this and the last time someone did something like this for him, his mother was still alive. He was going to cherish this as long as he could.

[aikaterini-drag]

Smiles and Smooches

Summary: You get drunk and demand kisses and hugs from your boyfriend. He is more than happy to please you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (no mention of y/n)

Warnings: no smut, takes place during tfatws, boyfriend Bucky, emotional security, fluff, kisses.

The night carried a pleasant breeze, the stars twinkling. You and Bucky sat close together under the dimmed light of a cozy booth at your favorite bar. The hum of laughter and clinking glasses surrounded you. And tonight, you were a little tipsier than usual. You had consumed two of your favorite cocktails— despite your boyfriend’s advice to take it slow. Bucky, unlike you, couldn't get drunk no matter how hard he tried, thanks to his super soldier genes. He had finished the last sips of your drink, attempting to prevent you from feeling sick later on.

Thankfully, you were feeling fine. Only slightly drunk and blissfully happy inside.

With flushed cheeks and a captivating smile, you shifted on your chair and leaned toward him.

"You know, babe," you slurred slightly, "you're like... seriously the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky couldn't help but half-laugh. “I told you, you shouldn’t have ordered that second drink, sweets. You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine.” You hiccuped and hugged his arm. “It’s not my fault you’re superman.”

“Super-soldier,” he corrected with another half laugh.

“Tsk… is the same. You’re my strong, virile man. And I love you!”

He grinned and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

You beamed at him, your fingers tracing patterns on his bionic hand. "No, I love you more! Seriously, you're, like, super super cute. I mean, like, cuter than, like, a basket of puppies."

He chuckled at your comparison. “What an adorable declaration of love.”

“You’re adorable.” Your breath ghosted over his lips. “My adorable James. My Bucky.”

He smiled and kissed across your forehead. “Well, that’s debatable. I have the most adorable girl in the world right here with me."

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "Can I have a hug? Please? You give the best hugs."

Who was he to deny you? He eagerly wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You melted into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. You popped a button and he chuckled and gripped your hands gently.

“No funny business, sweets.”

You pouted. “Want to kiss you. Everywhere.”

He kneaded your hair. “We’re in a bar full of people.”

“Then let’s go home,” you said as your mouth trailed a path of warmth along his unshaven jawline.

“I’m not letting you drink ever again. You get turned into a little kiss monster.”

You giggled. “Your kiss monster.”

“Mine. Always.” He hummed, his voice a warm murmur.

“Take me home, sarge.”

“Home it is, my sweet.”

After taking care of the bill, he held you up, his arms wounding around you to steady you. You still felt a little tipsy but you were also so happy and warm, holding him close, inhaling his fresh masculine scent. Holding you protectively against him, he led the way to the apartment you shared.

As they walked, he glanced at you. “Why did you drink so much, sweets? You dislike it.”

You sighed and clutched his arm. “I’m just sad you’re going on another mission. I don’t want you to be hurt. I meant to have one drink but… I lost control a bit, I guess.”

Bucky stopped and cupped your flushed face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You know I’ve got this.”

“So what if you’re good at it? Does that mean you have to risk your life without concerns?” Tears welled up in your eyes. “What if something happens to you?”

Exhaling, he drew you into a tight embrace. “I’ll be careful, I promise. You know I’ll always come back to you.”

You nestled into his arms, suppressing a sob. “I just hate seeing you go into danger again.”

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s what I do. And I do it to protect people like you, people I care about,” he said, pressing gentle kisses on your moist cheeks. “Don’t cry. I’ll be counting the minutes until I can come back to you.”

“Promise?” You gazed up at him, searching his ocean eyes for reassurance.

“I promise.”

“My Bucky,” you said, caressing his face. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Love you too, more than words can express, sweets.”

With his arms wrapped around you, you stayed there for a while, holding each other, kissing lazily. His lips brushed against yours repeatedly, his tongue coaxing your mouth apart and slipping inside. He consumed you, with his touches and his warmth, until there was nothing left but his warm gentle touches and the assurance that everything would be alright.

Follow for more content 🩵 Reblogs or any other kind of support are greatly appreciated. Hugs and kisses 🩷

[lcthebtswriter]

the blue line

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you have to tell Bucky that you’re unable to give him the family he’s always dreamed of

tags: @just-that-trashy, @kpopchangedmylifesstuff, @pensysto-writes, @groovyfluxie, @line-viper, @alien-on-a-treadmill, @statsvitenskap, @aliciabg27, @brianaraydean, @im-that-trash-over-there, @readingemma, @caswinchester2000, @wafflebrian, @redbloodedgurl (hey old mutuals! long time, no see. sorry for the hiatus. if you have no idea who I am lmk and I’ll remove you from my tag list)

warnings: infertility

It’s raining outside when Bucky comes home.

The ice cubes in your glass clink, mixing with the honey smell of bourbon. You sip from it, the intense taste filling your mouth and warming your chest. It doesn’t make the pain of your doctor’s news any less dreadful, but it helps you compose your thoughts as Bucky drops his keys onto the table in the foyer. 

Bucky has always dreamed of having a family. He’d talk about building a treehouse, teaching kids to fish, and how he would like to have a forest themed nursery. You’ve shared that dream since you talked about trying for a family months ago - not even a year after your honeymoon. Now, you’re afraid you promised Bucky too soon, that your dream of a family might be slipping through your fingers. It causes your stomach to knot.

You hear Bucky’s combat boots thud heavily as he slips them off, the sound echoing on the wooden floor. His footsteps draw nearer, each one heightening your anxiety. When he steps into the kitchen, his face lights up at the sight of you.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, his arms encircling you as he plants a gentle kiss on the back of your neck. “How was your day?”

You take a deep breath, your voice quivering slightly. “Can we sit for a minute? I need to talk to you.”

Bucky’s smile fades as concern washes over him, his eyes shifting to the glass in your hand. You set it down on the kitchen table, your fingers gripping the edge as you sink into a chair. You’re neither drunk nor tipsy, but the weight of having to shatter your shared dream has left your mouth dry and your thoughts swirling.

“Bucky,” you start, “my doctor called.”

Even though Bucky hoped your appointment might have provided clarity or tips on making the journey easier, he knew otherwise. Bucky could see it on your face. He took your hand in his without you even having to say anything, and the fact that he could read you so well alleviated your anxiety. You wouldn’t have to tell him. He just knew. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Head hanging, tears fall onto your thighs, and you can’t bring yourself to look at your husband. “I know how much you wanted this. I understand if you want to…” You trail, not even capable of giving Bucky the go ahead for leaving you. 

He shakes his head immediately, scooting closer so he can grab your chin and make you look at him. “Being unable to get pregnant has nothing to do with loving you. That is not what I value about you,” he insists. 

Tears well in your eyes, a mix of relief and sorrow. “You’re not upset?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not upset. I’m just…glad we’ve got answers now. Plus, I don’t mind actively trying. That’s the fun part,” he says, trying to make you smile. It barely works, but getting a reaction out of you is better than nothing.

“In all seriousness,” he continues, “we can keep trying. Or we can adopt. It’s whatever you wanna do, baby.” Bucky’s eyes catch yours and you nod. He offers you a tender smile and places a kiss on your cheek. You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you. Bucky, with his rugged exterior and gentle demeanor, has always been the rock in your relationship. His strength is evident in the way he looks at you. His hands, worn from years of violence, are also the hands that offer comfort during the silent moments when words fail to comfort you.

You spend the following months with a sadness you can’t help but hide. The strain of your infertility is an ever-present shadow that strikes grief in your heart at the most unexpected times. You find yourself with watery eyes when you walk past the colorful onesies in the baby aisle. You imagine your home scattered with baby socks and rattling toys and bite your tongue when you ask Bucky if he’d want to keep trying. There is an empty room in your house that you don’t dare walk past, fearing it will forever contain a simple rug and shelves that will never be filled with picture books. 

In your moments of vulnerability, when the house is quiet and you avoid the unopened pregnancy tests in your bathroom, Bucky sees you struggling to face reality. Your attempts to start a family have been met with setbacks and challenges, but you carry the weight of this burden with quiet heartbreak.

The shared meals, the late-night talks, and the routines stitch your days together and provide a sense of normalcy. It isn’t always so when you stare at the negative sign on yet another pregnancy test. 

Bucky stands beside you, clutching the counter with one hand while the other rests on the small of your back. You’re standing at the sink, your side clear of clutter and Bucky’s filled with cologne bottles and shaving products. The only thing on your side of the counter is a used pregnancy test, the horizontal blue line causing your stomach to sink. You try not to get upset, you tell yourself you’ve just begun ovulating, but you’ve been telling yourself that for weeks. Each negative test chips away at your determination, and you aren’t sure how much more of this you can take.

“It’s okay, baby,” Bucky speaks up. “We can keep trying. Plus, it takes up to a week for the sperm to even implant, right?” He asks, drawing hope from a conversation you’d had a few days ago with a fertility specialist. Bucky reaches a hand out, trying to get you to give him the test so he can throw it away. He hates it when you stare at the tests and just cry – it breaks his heart. 

You manage a nod and hand the test over, shoulders feeling heavy at the thought of yet another month without the hormone fluctuations and morning sickness. You’d settle for reoccurring nausea if it meant giving your husband a family. You can’t help holding your arms across your waist and crying, the emptiness in your belly making you feel like giving up. It had only been a few months, but you don’t know how much more hope and heartbreak you can handle. Your sobs echo in your bathroom, and Bucky can’t do anything but guide you to your bed and lay down beside you, drawing the duvet over your shoulders to provide warmth. 

Bucky holds you as you sob, each wail breaking his heart as you cry into his chest. He runs his fingers along your hair, shushing you until the pain of another negative test eventually ebbs away into a dull ache. The sunset shines through the curtains, your bedroom a golden hue that makes you calm and sleepy. You don’t want to go to bed, but what else is there to do? 

“We don’t have to keep trying, honey,” Bucky speaks up. “Nothing is worth seeing you in so much pain.”

Bucky’s grip on you is tight. His bear hugs stifle your hitching breaths, and your grip on his shirt loosens as you begin relaxing. You hadn’t realized how tense your body had gotten; your shoulders were up to your ears and your jaw ached from clenching. “We could try IVF?” You suggest, although your voice is weak and suggests your heart is not entirely behind the idea. Bucky is aware of this, and he kisses your forehead and entangles your legs together. You’re anchored in bed now and Bucky doesn’t intend on letting you get out. 

“Whatever you want,” he says, “as long as you’re happy.” As you lay entwined beside the sunset’s soft glow, the weight of your decision dissipated gradually as the room grew darker. Bucky’s gentle heartbeat calmed your nerves, and in the silence of your conversation was a sense of acceptance. You were coming to terms with the fact that your perfect idea of parenthood was not going to unfold as you’d originally hoped, but at least your husband was with you every step of the way. Although it felt as if a part of you was dying, you embraced the fact that your husband’s strength and devotion to you would never falter. 

[lady-ashfade]

Lord Of The Tides

Yan!One-Eyed!Lucerys Velaryon x Niece!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ the best girl @madame-fear requested this from me and I love the way her mind works. She’s my wife- so I hope I make her happy with this one.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 3k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: targ’cest, lucerys being a bit different because he’s older, he also losses a eye, yandere behavior, slight dark themes, and slight mature themes (sexual), but no smut, and if there is a mistake about him having two eyes—Shh.

“were you scared?” the spoon in your hand scratched the bottom of the cup in your hand, and the sound of your heels clinking on the floor boards below were soft but could be heard around the room. even if it was only the two of you, the room was full in your eyes. “greatly. I was young and naive but I loved my brother, but I was too slow to reach towards the knife. Aemond had me beat in length, and that’s how,” his fingers moved upward to the black patch on his eye. He didn’t look ashamed of it like he did all thoses years ago before you were born, his body grew and so did his mind.

“I remember the story sounding much more…action packed as a child. Don’t get me wrong, uncle, you are the bravest man I ever met,” his chest filled with pride as the words fell from your dusted pink lips, “but I do recall you saying you road in on a dragon?” The sly smile on your cheeks was the only thing he recognized about you now. It’s been a few years since he had seen you, or took notice really. he was trying to fulfill his duty to study on how to be the next “lord of the tides” and he took it seriously.

glancing upon you now for the first time in years, he could see the beautiful woman you’ve became. perfect body that filled out your dress perfectly while showing just the right amount of skin but enough to leave any eyes yarning for more. you had matured more then well. In this moment he couldn’t pull his eye away from you, he was desperate to look at you for as long as he could. you were magnificent. “Would that enthrall you?” his teasing tone and brow arch made you flush in embarrassment.

“Would make the story a lot better, uncle.” you raise the cup to your lips and took a quiet sip while holding eye contact with him. the few seconds of silence had your stomach tingling and blood pumping faster. there was no secret from a young age you had a crush on your kind uncle. He had given you attention and made you laugh while teaching you stories and knowledge. It was just a silly crush that had you staying up late at night thinking of his smile years later.

“I suppose your right.” he broke eye contact to chuckle and lean forward to grab a soft pastry from the table. “Tell me, what has it been like while I was away? Has my brother learned anything about being future king?” His tone was off. Almost sounding as if he was belittling your father, or making fun of him. You stood up straight and place the glass down on its plate.

“My father has been doing a great job. Our queen is training him well, or do you doubt your own mother?” his body stopped in time for a second with half his lips wrapped around the sugared sweet to stare at you. he couldn’t believe how fast you acted to defend your father and tried to make a fool out of himself. the look behind your eyes and the smile tugging at your lips he could tell you meant no true harm. only to play a little game.

“You have changed,” he tone shifted as his eye made sure to run its way up and down your body, making you squirm in your chair. “No longer a girl but a lady.” you hated how easy it was to feel drawn into him again. it was different now then it was back then, you had aches and desire only the dead of night could see and he was making it so hard to control them. “I was pleased when I got your letter even if I had little time to prepare for it. But there is one question on my mind: why?” the truth wasn’t something you could tell him in that moment. So you settled for something easy, and nothing like the full picture.

“I missed you. Castle life is wonderful, but you always showed me the fun of things.”

each day that went by he was drawn in closer by you, from your smell, to your smile, to the sound of your laugh that he caused. he tried to deny himself from the thought of you but you were already hammered into his mind once he saw you getting off your dragon merely days ago. It’s been a long while since he saw beauty like you, your intelligence mind and wit, or your able to be naive in hopes of a better world. the strength to hold himself back when you were just a few inches away from him was great. he wanted to hold you, to touch your soft kiss…to whisper into your ear—

“I don’t understand,” the sound of you voice awakened him from his day dreaming. you had not noticed his staring from being turned away from him. “This game is incredibly stupid.” the mallet in your hands swung a bit as you exhaled frustratingly. the colored balls scattered around the ground, non of them close to being where his were.

“I think you wanted me to fail,” you pouted you lips at the tall man. “It’s not my fault your losing my dear,” the nickname made your body clinch, “if you had listened to me-” the words shouting from your mouth interrupted him.

“I have been listening to you. But you’re somehow cheating.” it made him unbelievably amused to watch you huff and pout at losing a game you forced him to teach you. if he could, he’d steal that pout away from your lips and make you whine about something else. “Are you accusing me of something?” He leaned his arms on the mallet but leaning on his leg to stare at you with scrunched brows. you took a moment to find something to say but only muffled and gagged words came from your lips before you eventually gave up.  “No uncle, forgive me for my temperament.” You looked down at the yellow ball and glared down at it.

“It’s just utterly frustrating to loss when you’re already so far ahead of me,” you glanced back up and pointed to his, “I don’t like losing.” that was something you gained from both your parents if he was honest. jace never liked to lose a game or training, and your mother had a shorter temper he could only imagine how you’d act when you get heated. “Then we should keep playing until your good.” he turned back to hit the blue ball at his feet and cheers when he gets it through the metal bars. gods, he was going to kill you with his handsome smile.

It was heart wrenching to see his smile fade and his body tense days later, with his hand resting on the stone railing. it was a perfect day, the time you spent with him was still unmatched by the way he made you feel. the sun shining orange across the sky and bouncing off the both of you, making the other even more breathtaking to each other.

“What?” his voice rasped and dropped darker then you have heard it before. all ounce of happiness left his body and started to over flow with growing anger. “For how long?” the raise volume to his voice make you look down in guilt for some reason. he was mad at you for not telling him…but for reasons you did not know of. “Two months. Before I came he was set to stay in kindslanding to find our ground with one another,” you played with you finger tips. he took a deep breathe to stop himself from shouting at you any further. his sweet girl knew nothing of the pain it caused him to hear those words. to find out she was in fact not his.

“He’s sweet, and kind. A perfect match for the realm,” you look up at the orange sunset and feel the aching in your heart grow, “we are to be wed in three months.” grabbing the long glass of wine from beside you and bringing it up to your lips to take a big sip. you needed to drown out the doubts and fears you had somehow. lucerys fist tightened at the thought of another having you be their bride, to get to kiss you and share your bed every night. he was lord of the tides, he had the best fleet and army at sea, he could protect you, love you like you deserve- but this man got it just on a whim?

you are more precious to be sold for some on going alliance with a household- you deserved a prince.

“But,” you start again with hesitation and force yourself away from his eyes, “he is not the one I long for. Yes, he would be a good and faithful husband but my heart does not long for him.” the title belonged to the man you stood beside, the man who made your soul burn blighter. he stepped forward and your breath hitched and couldn’t keep your eyes away from him. the eyepatch on his face never made you fear him, not even once did the stories make you feel any less for him.

“Who does it long for?” He fell hushed as he stood even closer to you now, your bodies almost touching and you could almost feel the heat coming from him. you wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to belong to him- to marry him. but it was not to be so, your duty as the princess is to care for the kingdom the best you can and that is for your betrothal to the lord you barley knew to work. and not to the man you loved.

clearing your throat you step back away from him and force a smile your face. you clearly were imagining things and he was not pursuing your fantasies, or his own. “A chat for another time perhaps, it’s getting quite late wouldn’t you say? I need a good nights sleep for my travels tomorrow.” he had forgotten all about you leaving. time slips away with you here. how could he bring himself to part ways now after everything you brought him?

“Then I shall fair you goodnight,” before you could pull away his body moves forwards and his lips pressed against the hairline of your forehead. it was a few seconds long but the feeling made you overwhelmed in shock, you froze up. pulling away from you he took notice of your reaction and how tense you became, “slept well, my dear” he walked away with a curled smile towards his cheeks and leaving you standing there alone.

that night you toasted and turned in your sheets thinking of how his lips felt on your skin and your brain started to wander. how would it feel for him to kiss down your shoulder, or you lips and down your chest in his chambers at night. he had no wife to warm his bed, surely he must be lonely? but a man like him was definitely no stranger to the feeling of a lovers touch and you knew that for sure. the thoughts you had that night made you feel embarrassed to see him the next morning when you woke from the vivid dream you had.

you fixed your glove over your hands and made sure everything you need is tied on tight to your dragon. she squirms beneath your touch and if she could purr like a cat you know she would. lurcerys appreciates you carefully as your attention was not on him, he liked to see your face in shock because he found it adorable. “Leaving without a goodbye?” to his pleasure he was right. when you turned around at his voice spooked like a horse.

“I wasn’t sure you’d have time, it’s early.” you shifted awkwardly and covered yourself. he hummed along and walked closer and then inches by you. he stops before the scales of your dragon and slowly guides his palm over repeatedly along her body, makes her happy like it was you. even she enjoyed his company, much like her rider. “I’m sorry, I did not know how to say goodbye.” admitting the truth was harder once it was out for some reason. you didn’t want to look like a girl despite in love.

“This isn’t a goodbye, we will see each other again.” he gave one last pat and turned to face you again. he stood with his hands clasped together, his black outfit with golden accents shining in the morning sun, his dark brown hair reflecting just like the gold.

“I’m sure of it.”

Lucerys Velaryon was many things. a prince, a lord, a brave soldier trained, and powerful man with connections everywhere. he could pay his way through the slums and have anything he wanted done at the snap of his fingers. he never wished to see you in tears or upset, really, but that’s the way things happened. to even think of letting you suffer a marriage to— anyone but him was a taste worse then the gods could give. and it was tragic how the lord just ended up dead a few days later from being poisoned by one of his own cooks. he died in his mothers arms and his heart felt sorrow for her and only her.

you came running into his arms after you heard the news since he was the only one you could go to. of course you would, he planned it just right. so he kept you in a tight embrace as you cried into his chest while stoking your hair and whispering everything was going to be fine and you were too distraught to say anything. “just breathe sweet girl,” he whispered into your ear. you grabbed ahold of him and tried to calm your breathing but the hiccups messed you up. he hated seeing you like this but was overjoyed at the same time. he was with you, you were his now.

“I’m scared,” you sobbed as more tears rolled down your already damp cheeks, “he was kind- the next man might not be the same. I don’t want to be a miserable wife,” naive little you to think he’d ever let that happen.

“look at me,” he commanded but not harshly. his hands cupped the skin of your jaw and cheek to guide your face up to him. even now you looked as stunning as ever. “I’d never let you be miserable, you are too special,” his thumb traced shapes into your skin. he looked into your puffy eyes and drank them in, you looked so innocent and in need of his protection. and he loved that. “I shall confess I find myself thinking of you since you first arrived in driftmark as a new woman.” he watched your eyes widen in anticipation and surprise.

“my heart longs for you and only you. the minute you come the place lit up and worked smoothly with you around. driftmart needs a lady, I need someone by my side that is wise and has a soft approach.” your brain fogs up as he leans down near your face like he was going to kiss you but stops just before your noses touch. “I’d fill your rooms up with anything you ever ask for, show you love like you’ve never dreamed, or protect you from any harm that comes your way. you know I’m a better choice than the boys competing for your hand.” you hear the slight venom in his voice towards the mentions of other lords.

“my father, what would he say?” you whisper and he could feel your breath making him hold himself back. “I’m in need of a wife, he’s daughter is a reasonable gift. He knows I’d never mistreat you,” the other hand grabs ahold your waist and moves his hands up and down your dress making you shiver. “come on, sweet girl. say yes.” a simple nod of your head was enough of a answer for him to finally capture your lips like he had been waiting for. you felt so warm pressed up against him it made him feral inside.

the warmth inside became like a explosion when he kissed you, the way he’s holding onto you so tight and against him, his short breaths and gasp for air, the hunger makes you sore and aching for everything he had. he wanted to give you it all, but he couldn’t. not until he put a ring on your finger and that pained him. the hormones in his body were at its peak now.

slightly tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth he pulled away slowly with a husky growl. he held your hips in place to stop you from trying to get more. he listens to you pant while doing the same thing himself. you smiled up at him, “I’ve always wanted you to be mine,” you say blinking your eyes up at him teasingly, “I don’t think I can ever belong to another.”

his chest rumbles in soft laughter. “About my brother— I’ll make him see we belong together, he raised you well so he knows just how much I need you.” he was so good a flattering. you roll your eyes playfully at him, “you have honeyed words, my betrothed.” you needed no acceptance from your father. you’d run back to dragon stone and wed Lusercys there. you couldn’t be pulled away from him after this.

“Because you get the cutest look on your face, you haven’t been as secretive about your feelings towards me. Should we talk about the time you practically bursted into flames when you knocked yourself onto me?”

“You stoop so low, my lord.”

[wonwayne]

how enha takes care of you ☁️

pairing : ot7 x gn!reader genre : fluff, comfort, humor warnings : mentions of food word count : 1k

a/n : requested by anon! kind of kicked it off with this hee drabble but had so much fun writing for all the members. for today’s purposes, let’s keep y/n sick and alone in their apartment 🫶

💭 heeseung

my little philosophy is that significant others can be two types of caregivers — one actively tries to treat your illness, the other is emotional support

each has their own merit ofc

but hee is miraculously both

sincerely believes he can rizz you to health

he’s being a bit selfish, he worries, for making you smile all the time

because it heals him more than it heals you

but he makes up for it by making sure you eat like a king (for all three meals a day!) until you feel better

also cuddles with you in bed to keep you warm

if whatever you have is contagious, he is definitely getting it

last but certainly not least: he sings to you. acoustic covers + snippets of his self-produced music, you’re getting it all 😌

almost makes you wish you were sick more often

💭 jay

arrives at your place with like fifty grocery bags (okay maybe not fifty, but… a lot)

big believer in sleep as the best medicine so he lets you be for the most part

but as soon as you wake up and come down to the living room

say hello to a FEAST

literally no room left on the dining table and he’s still doing something in the kitchen????

“jay i can’t… consume all of this” “don’t worry, eat as much as you want for now and i’ll put the leftovers in the fridge”

at this point what is there left to say except “can you just be my husband already”

you’re about to dig in and suddenly he’s standing over you giving you the death stare

“... did i… do something wrong?” “seriously?” your heart stops before he goes, “what happened to my thank you kiss?”

UGH he’s such a softie

💭 jake

is worried SICK and cannot hide it

refuses to leave your bedroom once he first enters it unless absolutely necessary — must stay by your side at all times !!

not the most experienced but the effort is very much there

“should we take the medicine together? would that be easier?” and you KNOW he hates taking medicine

“babe why would you take nyquil. you don’t have a cold.” “idk it can’t hurt can it?” it very much can (don’t do this kids)

he drinks it with you anyway (clinks the medicine cups and says “cheers!”… what are you going to do with this man) and tries his best to fight the drowsiness

ends up dozing with his head on your lap, kneeling by the bed

peak puppy position i tell you PEAK

💭 sunghoon

what matters is not so much how he takes care of you but how he looks so good while taking care of you: simple white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up just to the elbows, hair slicked back a little from washing his face, setting damp towels on your forehead and his forearm veins emerging as he wrings them… help me

it’s the wuthering heights bedridden cathy victorian era aesthetic okay

speaking of books why do i get the feeling that sunghoon would read to you

or simply talk to you about his day or childhood memories or anything to keep you comfortable and entertained

idk i feel like he’d want to remind you of his presence in a “i’m here for you” type of way but without being intrusive… is not at all offended when you fall asleep to his voice

don’t you just love when sunghoon.

💭 sunoo

i have one very specific idea for sunoo and i’m kinda obsessed with it

MINT. TEA. (if you know you know… mint tea is the sinus relief GOD)

and ofc as our resident mint choco lover, how could he not

“baby i made something for you!” you peer into the mug and you’re like 🤨 “you didn’t add chocolate syrup to this did you” “wtf i’m not a monster why would i do that??”

his discography and food preferences beg to differ but he truly does give you pure, steaming mint tea

it is so perfect i promise you will fall in love with him all over again

mint aside we all know this man is a human vitamin like i cannot imagine you staying sick for long

no need to binge tv (it makes your head hurt more anyway), just have sunoo spill all the drama to you for seven hours straight and you’ll be good to go

💭 jungwon

makes you wonder, did this boy have a medical degree this entire time and just not tell me??

knows exactly which medications help with which symptoms, gives you all the immune boosting foods, pulls up with a weighted blanket and a heating pad and a plushie to hug— you’re getting the best sleep of your life no question about it

listens to you so well “i miss what it was like to breathe” “it’s frustrating, isn’t it? as soon as one nostril clears, the other fills up, and it never seems to end” “YES ohmy— [cough] god, yes, you get it :(”

at the same time i think won is the most likely to avoid skinship when you’re sick bc yeah that stuffy nose does not sound fun

is smart about it though; prepares a bubble bath for you and then sets up the heating pad and everything on your bed while you’re in the bath

becomes 143x touchier once you’re back to normal (“i missed squishing your cheeks” “i missed squishing your cheeks!”)

💭 niki

crashes at your place to make sure you’re having a good time

it’s either you watching him game or movie marathon together

you don’t say it but you are so inordinately grateful that he’s caring enough to chill with you on days like these, you know he’d rather do dates outside and play pranks on you every other hour, but he’s giving that up just for you

would share a tub of ice cream with you if you’re craving it, although he voices his concerns first “is it… right to eat cold stuff when you have a cold?” “it defrosts in my mouth don’t worry” “okay you do you”

basically a good old sleepover

every time he checks your temperature he sings his part in fever (he’s humorous like that)

[dirtysvthoughts]

tipsy nights 🌕

tags/warnings: boyfriend! chan, female! reader, alcohol, mentions of a finished dinner, lots of kissing, lots of touching and feeling each other up, reader praises chan, chan gets kinda shy, dry humping

word count: 1.9k

notes: thank you to @duhnova for helping me with the idea for this drabble! this has been a recurring thought in my mind - getting tipsy with chan, making out, and getting handsy 🥺 the dingo tipsy live is also one of my favorite chan looks ever (and the inspiration for this drabble), it’s so boyfriend coded 😩 anyways, enjoy besties!

chan stretches out his body, groaning out in satisfaction as you wash the dishes from your meal. “seriously babe, you’re such a great cook! that tteokbokki was one of the best i’ve ever had.”

you blush at chan’s words, a smile making its way on your lips. “thanks chan, i’m really glad you liked it!” you dry your hands with a towel as you join him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulders as your legs move into a mermaid position. chan puts his hand on your knee and begins rubbing your skin in a circular motion.

“you take such good care of me,” he admires, looking in your eyes, feeling as if he could get lost in them forever. “you’re always making sure i’m eating, making sure i’m well, i don’t deserve you..”

“i don’t deserve you, chan,” you emphasize, holding his hand. “the things you’ve done for me and the way you take care of me too? you’re the greatest boyfriend ever.”

you share a quick kiss, resting your head on chan’s shoulder when you separate. having a partner that not only understood you, but wanted to know more about you, flaws and all is one of the best feelings you’ve experienced.

after a few minutes of silence, you eye the bottles of soju and other alcohol on the table in front of you. plates of snacks and fruit were also laid out, your eyes turning back to your boyfriend. “ready to start drinking?”

chan smirks as he grabs a soju bottle, causing you to sit up for a moment. he pops the top off fashionably and he pours halfway to your shot glass, while pouring to the top for his. you reach for your liquor as you both say cheers, clinking your glasses and taking your shots. you hiss at the strong taste of the alcohol, the slightly bitter taste of regular soju wasn’t your favorite, but it was tolerable.

chan laughs at your reaction, shaking his head, “still getting use to the taste huh?”

“the flavored one taste so much better to me!” you defend. “i dunno how you take down almost three bottles of this,” you take the bottle as you pour another shot, stopping halfway again.

“but yet, you’re getting another drink of it,” he chided and you playfully, lightly hit him on his shoulder. “i never said i didn’t like it, y’know,” you pop a chip into your mouth, swallowing it. “i just prefer other tastes.”

thirty minutes pass by and a pleasant feeling overtakes your body and brain. you’re not completely drunk, but you definitely could say you weren’t sober either. what was the word you were looking for?

“are you tipsy, baby?” chan smiles at you leaning his head back on the couch, hand covering his face, chuckling to himself. while his tolerance was way higher than yours, he had already downed two and a half bottles of soju - and is probably more intoxicated than you are.

“mmmhmm,” your slowly slur, leaning forward but stopping yourself so you wouldn’t fall over. “it feels good though, not gonna lie,” you giggle, shifting yourself to sit closer to your boyfriend. you rest your head on his shoulder again, hand holding on his forearms. you stare at the wall in front of you, but you look up at him when he takes another swig of alcohol, biting your lip watching his adam’s apple move with each swallow, how his lips looked so soft and pillowy.

you tap his arm twice and it brings his attention back to you, chan humming in response to your gesture. “i dunno if told you this but you look really hot today.. i mean you always look hot, but right now?” you stop to bite your lip, legs pressing together tightly, “god, i need you inside of me, on top of me, maybe even underneath me.”

chan blushes profusely at your words, his bright smile making one also spread across your face. you kiss his cheek twice, but something inside you is encourages you to go further and your lips trail down his cheek to the left side of his neck. his breath hitches at the sensation, your moist, wet lips doing something to him.

“i didn’t think my outfit today would have such an effect on you,” he muses, looking down at the long sleeve brown top he matched with some jeans. he hadn’t intended on making you feel a certain way when he puts this together, but he mentally pats himself on the back for it because look where it got him. his favorite girl in the world, tipsy and kissing his neck ever so tenderly.

you chuckle, moving your body to sit on top of his left thigh, praising and thanking all the high powers for convincing you to wear shorts today. you maneuver yourself closer to him, lips diving into his neck again, but this time alternating between kisses and small, light bites. this clearly arouses chan and his hands make their way to the small of your waist, softly gripping the skin.

“mmm channie,” you moan softly as your hands make their way down to his chest and stomach, fingertips tracing the line of his abs. “you’re so handsome and stunning.. everything about you is so attractive. you’re an amazing performer, a hard worker, so patient and understanding.. not to mention funny and insanely talented, you’re like the complete package.”

you momentarily pause as your hand goes inside his shirt, now tracing the lines of his skin. your fingers slowly dance their way down to chan’s zipper, his breathing becoming quicker. “just wanna show you how amazing you are my love, wanna shower you with you all the compliments i can think of,” you kiss his forehead as you tease him by rubbing your fingers lightly against his crotch.

chan leans his head back as he whines from all the praise he was getting. “baby, you’re making me red,” he says a little above a whisper, and you can’t help but smile at how cute he is right now. normally he would be one to take compliments to his advantage, use them to dirty talk you until you were leaking all over him. but tonight was different. there was something in the air chan couldn’t define, but whatever it was, he just wanted to let you take the lead in this moment.

deciding that it was time to switch things up, you begin to slowly grind on your boyfriend’s thigh, the feeling of your shorts and his jeans on your crotch has you immediately moaning. chan’s mouth opens in awe as he lays his eyes back on you, the expression on your face and the way you bite down on your lips has him starting to form a wet spot on his boxers.

chan tenses the muscles in his thigh and it has your chest falling forward, causing you to release a louder moan. “shit, channie,” you whine, a doe like look spread across your face. “please do that again, please,” you beg breathlessly, never stopping your enticing motions on his leg.

chan smirks at how affected you are and fulfills your request, tensing his muscles again and moving his leg side to side to add extra excitement to your folds. you whimper as your body continues to heat up, chan’s movement and groans tightening the coil in your stomach. before you think you’re about to burst, chan taps the back of your thigh twice, bringing all of your movement to a stop.

“there’s two things i want you to do for me pretty girl,” he bites his lips as he eyes you up and down, noticing how your nipples got perky and were peeking through your shirt. “yes baby?” you respond, pushing some of your hair back that got in your face.

“first, stand up and take your shorts off for me. let me see your cute little panties,” he smirks, now eyeing the lower half of your body as you get up from his leg. four eyes dare not leave chan’s as you find the button to your shorts, then you work the zipper down, pulling them down slowly as he groans when they’re completely off your legs, kicking them off to the side.

“like what you see?” you tease, already knowing the answer. chan licks his lips and beckons you to come closer with his index finger.

“second thing, you think you can ride me but sit on my lap this time? i wanna feel your pretty little pussy on my dick.”

“think?” you playfully roll your eyes as you maneuver your body and gingerly sit on his lap, you crotch pressing against chan’s. “i know i can, i wanna feel you too channie,” you moan already feeling his hard on touch the material of your underwear.

“how are you so hard already?” you geniunely question as chan wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. “not that i’m complaining or anything!”

your boyfriend smiles as he seals your lips in a long, drawn out kiss, guiding your body to grind against him. “that’s all you baby,” chan laughs as you hold on to his shoulders, feeling up his arms. “you feel so good rolling your hips into me like a good girl.. i can feel how wet you are too, soaking these adorable panties you have on,” his fingers lightly touch your clit from the outside and it has you mewling, craving for more - chan’s name and more higher pitched moans than the others you let out earlier consistently coming out your lips.

“channie,” you beg, moving down on him with a bit more pressure. “i need you so bad, need you to fuck me here on the couch after i come.. please tell me you’ll fuck me,” your eyes looking like they were watering. chan tilts your chin up as he pushes his hips up to thrust into you, making sure you kept your eyes on him. “i fuck you just how you want baby, i’ll make sure i’ll have you screaming for me on this couch, have you begging even more than you are now. you want that baby? want me to have you screaming my name?” you pace has sped up as you nod frantically, the coil in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter.

“chan! chan! cha-” you loudly whine as your body becomes undone, slumping into your boyfriend’s chest as you come all over his boxers, making an even bigger mess on his clothes. your breathing is ragged, but you love the state you’re in right now, chan continuing to hold you by the waist as he rubs your back.

“think you’ve sobered up a bit?” chan asks as he helps you sit up. “cause i know i have,” he chuckles, brushing his hair back. you nod, agreeing with him. “yeah, i think so too.”

after a few beats of comfortable silence, you call out your boyfriend’s name, looking up at him. “can you still take me down on the couch? i still haven’t felt you inside me yet,” you fake pout as he smugly smiles, switching your position, and pressing you down on the couch’s material.

“just you wait, i’m gonna leave you wanting my touch for a very long time.”

[milf-murdock]

Unsteady (Simon x Johnny x Reader)

Request: Simon and Johnny taking care of F!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny take care of you after you almost pass out at the pub.

TW: heavily implied disordered eating, almost passing out, mental health concerns, medication mentions (nothing specific but could be read as ADHD medication side effects).

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for your request and your kind words! I'm choosing not to publish the ask because I think there are some triggering words that I won't be able to hide under a "read more" line, but I hope that you enjoy this and find some comfort in it.

As someone who has also struggled with EDs in the past, please, please, please do not be afraid to ask for help. There is nothing glamorous about eating disorders. They absolutely need to be taken seriously.

Instead of going the full ED route with this one shot, I took it down a slightly softer path and based it off of my experience with ADHD and how it has led to me accidentally missing meals.

The din of the pub faded into the background as you sat in the corner booth of your favorite pub. You were pressed up against Simon’s bulky frame, one of his strong arms wrapped around your body, keeping you tucked in close. Johnny sat across the booth, taking in his favorite view: you wrapped up in Simon—his two loves, his whole world sat right across the table from him. 

Your empty glass clinked against the others as your set it on the table. “Looks like we’re ready for another round,” you said, smiling up at Johnny. 

“Mm, that it does,” Johnny smiled back at you, and you felt like you could absolutely drown in those ocean eyes. 

“You tryna get us drunk or something, love?” Simon teased, lips pressing against your collarbone. 

“Something like that,” you laughed, turning your head meet his lips for a quick kiss. “Here, I’ll go, order them” you reasoned, being on the outside of the seat and closest to the bar. “Be right back.” You pushed yourself from the booth to your feet, and instantly the entire room started spinning.  Damn, you thought to yourself. That beer is hitting fast. You went to take one tentative step, and then the room started to tilt, the floor coming up at you fast. 

Johnny was out of his seat in an instant, having picked up immediately something was wrong from the moment you stood up. His two large hands reached out to steady you, catching you in his arms. “Easy now,” he grunted,  bracing you both. “I’ve got ye.” He gently lowered you back into the booth, letting your weak form lean up against Simon. Simon’s hands instantly held you against him, supporting you. At the edge of the booth, Johnny got down on one knee so he could be eye level with you. 

“Look at me, hen,” he coaxed. “What’re you feeling?” Johnny grabbed one of the ice waters from the table and gingerly helped bring it to your lips. 

You blinked, trying to get your bearings. The room finally stopped spinning. “M’fine,” you mumble before taking a sip of the water Johnny offered you. The icy cold liquid helped clear your mind. “Just got a bit dizzy.”

Johnny and Simon exchanged knowing glances. 

“What’ve ye had to eat today, lass?” Johnny’s voice was gentle, prodding, but his eyes were a dead giveaway to the concern and hurt he was feeling, already knowing the answer. 

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” you stepped around the question, your voice hesitant. “I think I had a banana this morning?” 

Simon let out a resigned sigh. “I’m assuming that would be half of a banana,” he corrected. “Considering I found the remaining half still in the peel on top of the dresser.”   

You eyelids fluttered shut, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh.” You let out. “Yeah, I went in there to grab one of your jumpers and I must have forgotten it.” 

It happened all the time, you getting distracted mid task. It had gotten even worse since one of the side effects of your medication was a suppressed appetite. You never did have quite a good relationship with food to begin with though. 

“And what about lunch?” Johnny continued his prodding. 

You bit your bottom lip, a nervous habit of yours. Wincing, you reply with a mumbled “forgot.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as shame flooded through you. 

At this, both men let out a sigh, completely in synch when it comes to their concern for you. 

“Love, we’ve been over this,” Simon started before being cut off. 

“M’sorry.” Despite your best efforts, a couple tears started to slide down your face. 

Johnny pulls you into his arms. “S’okay, Bonnie,” he soothed, running a hand up and down your back. 

“S’not okay, Johnny,” Simon snapped from the other side of you. “She needs to be eating.” 

Johnny shot Simon a glare. “I know that, Si.” He took a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple, your head buried against his chest. “He’s right though, bonnie. Ye need to be eating.” 

His hand slid up to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. 

“I know,” you whined, fidgeting under his piercing gaze. 

Simon scooted closer across the booth, a strong hand coming to rest against your back. 

“We just need to know you’re taken care of, love,” Simon began to rub his hand in a soothing circle. “Specially knowing we can’t always be here to take care of you ourselves.” 

“I know,” you sighed, feeling yourself shutting down. 

Simon and Johnny exchange another glance, Simon giving a short nod of approval signaling to back off for now. 

“Just promise us you’ll try,” Johnny pleaded. “For us. Please?”

You nod, sniffling. 

“I promise,” you sighed softly. “I’ll try harder.”

Johnny gave you a crooked smile, a favorite of yours. “Atta girl.” 

Simon pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “Now let’s go get some dinner, love. How’s that sound?” 

“It sounds…” you trailed off.  “Well, I don’t really feel that well.” 

Simon nodded his head knowingly. “Well that’s cause you’ve hardly eaten today.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Probably.” 

“Something easy then,” Johnny stated matter of factly. “Perfect weather for soup. Think you can manage that, dove?” 

You gave a small nod and let Johnny transfer you over to Simon’s strong arms. 

“Aye, good lass,” he gave you a quick peck. “Si, get our girl home and I’l go pick it up.” 

“Affirmative,” Simon agreed, giving your hip a quick tap to encourage you to try to get on your feet again. 

Johnny stood up and offered you a hand to help you up, Simon’s hands never leaving your hips until they were both certain you weren’t in danger of passing out on them.  

“I’ll see you both at home,” Johnny quipped, giving both you and Simon a quick kiss on the cheek before going to pay the tab. 

Simon helped you shrug into your coat and the two of you made your way out to the brisk Manchester air. 

An hour later, empty takeaway containers littered the coffee table in the living room as you laid on the couch with your loves. You were pressed up against Simon, leaning up against him, tucked under his arm. Your legs were sprawled out across Johnny’s lap, his calloused hands giving you the most delightful foot massage. 

“Y’know we love you, right?” Johnny’s voice broke the silence that had settled over the three of you. 

“I know,” your voice was low. 

“We just worry about you, love,” Simon urged, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

“I promise I’ll try to be better.” You sighed softly. “I love you both so much.” 

“We love you too, lass.” Johnny leaned forward to give you a kiss. 

“So much,” Simon finished, pressing another kiss to your exposed neck. 

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

~

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

~

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

~

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

~

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[allsouls-emma]

Hey!!! So I saw you opened your requests for Leon ! Could I request one? Maybe one where he and the reader is out and he notices her and likes her but thinks her friend is her boyfriend so he doesn’t come up to her but they meet again somewhere else and he finds out that the guy is just a friend and he asks her out. The date goes well and they go back to his/her place and it finishes with a smut 😏😏 if you are confortable with that !! Also could I add my own OC? If yes my name is Emma and I have brown hair, blue eyes and freckles and glasses!!! Thank you so much ♥️♥️♥️

✧✧✧ ─ Reading between the silver lining

Léon Marchand X Female!Reader, !Original Female Character

Warnings: SMUT, PnV, Mature themes, DNI if under 18!, No former knowledge of swimming nor american college. Enjoy!

I was very excited to start my requests, Here we go! I hope i captured the vision you had in mind x

"What do you think of the new menu?" Kyle asked, his eyes skimming over the freshly printed pages.

Emma looked up from her phone, brown hair falling into her face. She pushed her glasses back up her nose. "It looks good. But I can never decide," she said with a laugh, revealing a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks. "I'm going with the usual, I guess."

"You and your predictability," Kyle teased, shaking his head.

The bell above the cafe door chimed, signaling a new arrival. A young man, tall with dark hair, walked in. He scanned the room, and when his eyes met Emma's, they lingered. She blushed, her blue eyes flickering away from his gaze.

"Who's that?" Kyle whispered, leaning in.

Emma shrugged. "Dunno. He's cute, though."

The stranger, Leon, took a seat a few tables away. He ordered a black coffee and pretended to read a book, stealing glances at the girl with the infectious smile and the guy who seemed too comfortable with her to be just a friend.

The cafe hummed with the low murmur of conversation and the clinking of spoons against porcelain. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of baked goods. Outside, the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow through the windows.

Leon couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he watched the pair. They seemed so at ease with each other, finishing each other's sentences and sharing quiet laughs. He wondered if they were a couple, if the universe had already paired her off. But something in her gaze, a hint of curiosity when she'd caught him looking, made him hopeful.

Emma's eyes met Leon's again, and she felt a strange pull. She'd never seen him before in this town, but there was something familiar about his smile. It was like a puzzle piece she hadn't known was missing. She nudged Kyle under the table. "What's his deal?"

Kyle followed her gaze. "Well, he's not checking me out, so I'm guessing he's not into guys," he said with a smirk. "But seriously, he seems to have a thing for you."

Emma's heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that this handsome stranger was interested in her? And if so, what would she do about it? She'd heard enough rumors about herself and Kyle, and she didn't want to lead anyone on. But the way Leon's eyes danced across her face made it hard to ignore the flutter in her stomach.

As the minutes ticked by, the tension grew. Would Leon come over? Would he leave without saying a word? The air was thick with possibility, and Emma found herself holding her breath.

Their conversation grew quieter, their smiles more tentative. The air in the cafe seemed to still, waiting for something to happen. The moment hung there, delicate and untouched, like a perfectly frozen snowflake about to melt.

Leon's frustration grew with every sip of his now-cold coffee. He'd never been one to approach a girl without confidence, but Emma's presence had him tied in knots. He watched as her brown hair caught the light, and her blue eyes sparkled with mirth at something Kyle said. He knew he had to do something, or he'd never forgive himself for letting her slip away.

Summoning his courage, he took a deep breath and stood. As he approached their table, the clatter of cups and the murmur of conversation grew distant. All he could hear was the thud of his own heart.

But just as he opened his mouth to speak, Kyle's laugh rang out, a little too loud, a little too forced. It shattered the spell, and Leon's resolve crumbled. He mumbled something about needing to go and retreated, his eyes never leaving Emma's until the door closed behind him.

Emma watched him leave, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. She didn't know what she would have said if he had come over, but the fact that he hadn't felt like a missed opportunity. She turned to Kyle, who was watching her with a knowing smile. "What?" she asked, feeling her cheeks redden.

Kyle leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling. "You know what. You're totally smitten."

Emma rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny the truth of his words. "It's just… I don't know. He's cute, and he seems nice."

Kyle's smile softened. "And you think because people assume we're a couple, you can't be interested in anyone else?"

Emma sighed. "It's not that. It's just… complicated."

Kyle reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Look, Em, I'm your best friend. I'm not your boyfriend. You can like whoever you want. And if you want, I'll help you figure out how to talk to this Leon guy."

The offer was sincere, and Emma felt a warmth spread through her. "Thanks, Kyle," she said, smiling gratefully.

They sat there a moment longer, the cafe's ambiance washing over them like a comforting blanket. The sun had set outside, leaving only the warm glow of the streetlights to play on the windows. Emma took a deep breath, feeling a new determination settle in her chest. Maybe tomorrow she'd come back and see if Leon was here again. Maybe she'd work up the nerve to say hello. Or maybe she'd wait and hope that fate had other plans.

The next morning, Emma woke up early, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. She threw on a sundress that brought out the blue in her eyes and tied her hair back in a loose ponytail. It was a new semester, time for new beginnings. She grabbed her backpack and headed out the door, her thoughts still lingering on the mysterious man from the cafe.

The college campus was a buzz of activity. Groups of prospective students and their families shuffled from one building to the next, guided by eager tour guides. As she arrived at the meeting point for her tour, Emma's eyes scanned the crowd. And there he was, Leon, standing tall and handsome among the sea of faces. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world around them stopped.

The tour guide, a bubbly redhead named Linda, began her spiel about the school's rich history and state-of-the-art facilities. But Emma's attention was elsewhere. She couldn't help but steal glances at Leon as they walked through the quad. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, but the way the fabric hugged his muscular frame made her heart race. His eyes never left hers, and she felt a thrill run down her spine every time their gazes locked.

The tension between them was palpable, like a tightly wound spring waiting to snap. Every time they stopped at a new location, Emma felt the urge to break away from the group and talk to him. But she held back, unsure of what to say or how to approach him without making a fool of herself.

The tour wound through the library, the science building, and the student center. At each stop, Emma found herself lingering just a moment longer, hoping that Leon would make the first move. But he remained a silent observer, his eyes speaking volumes but his mouth saying nothing.

Finally, they arrived at the last stop, the college's picturesque amphitheater. As Linda wrapped up her speech, Emma felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Leon standing there, his eyes searching hers.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I noticed you at the cafe yesterday. I just wanted to say, I think you're beautiful."

Emma's cheeks burned as she took in his words. She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. All she could do was nod, her eyes wide with surprise.

Leon chuckled, a sound that sent a warm rush through her. "I'm Leon," he said, holding out his hand.

"Emma," she managed to choke out, placing her hand in his. His grip was firm, but gentle, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

The group began to disperse, and Emma knew she had to say something before she lost her chance. She took a deep breath and looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Would you like to grab coffee tomorrow?"

Leon's smile grew, a genuine light in his eyes. "I'd love to," he said, squeezing her hand before letting go. "Tomorrow it is."

And with that, they parted ways, the promise of a new connection lingering in the air. Emma felt a mix of excitement and anxiety as she walked back to her dorm, her thoughts racing with what tomorrow would bring.

The next afternoon, Emma arrived at the same cafe, her heart thumping in her chest. She spotted Leon at their usual table, a book laid open in front of him, a cup of black coffee steaming beside it. He looked up as she approached, his eyes lighting up with a smile that made her stomach flutter.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, standing to pull out her chair.

Emma couldn't help but blush as she sat down. "Hi," she said, her voice a little shakier than she'd have liked.

They ordered their drinks and fell into an easy conversation, sharing stories of their families, their hometowns, and their hopes for the future. Leon talked about his love for basketball and how he'd always dreamed of swimming for the for the college team, the Sun Devils.

"But you're totally not a jock," Emma said playfully, raising an eyebrow as she stirred her latte.

Leon laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made her insides warm. "What makes you say that?"

"You read," she said, nodding at the book he'd brought with him. "I thought all athletes just listened to podcasts and stuff."

He rolled his eyes, but his smile never wavered. "Not all of us," he said. "I actually love literature. I'm just trying to keep up with the stereotype out there."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, and the hours melted away. They talked about their favorite books, their shared love for indie films, and their mutual disdain for overcooked pasta. Leon was charming and attentive, his gaze never leaving hers unless it was to laugh at something she said.

As they sat there, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow through the windows. The scent of freshly baked cookies filled the cafe, and the clatter of cups and spoons grew quieter as the last of the customers left.

"So, about that swim team," Emma said, playing with the edge of her napkin. "What's it like, being a college athlete?"

Leon leaned back in his chair, his eyes taking on a faraway look. "It's intense," he admitted. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything. It's like being part of a family."

"Sounds amazing," she said, meaning it. "But also, like a lot of pressure."

"It can be," he agreed. "But it's worth it for the love of the discpline."

Emma nodded, taking in his passion. It was clear that he didn't just swim; it was a part of who he was. And for some reason, that made him even more attractive to her.

As the night grew later, Leon reached across the table and took her hand. "Thank you," he said, his eyes earnest. "For giving me a chance, for not writing me off as just another jock."

Emma felt a warmth spread through her at his touch. "You're not just a jock," she said, her voice soft. "You're so much more."

Their first date had been nothing short of perfect, a blend of humor and depth that left Emma feeling seen in a way she hadn't in a long time. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, she couldn't help but wonder where this newfound connection would lead them. And as Leon walked her back to her dorm, his hand in hers, she knew that she was ready to find out.

They stopped outside her building, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Without a word, Emma reached up and pulled him into a kiss that was anything but gentle. Her lips crashed into his, her teeth catching his bottom lip in a way that made him gasp. He was taken aback, but only for a moment, before his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

They kissed against the rough brick of the dormitory, the sound of their breaths mingling with the distant chatter of students walking by. The night air was electric, charged with the excitement of a first kiss that held the promise of so much more.

Leon's hands found their way into her hair, and Emma felt herself melt into the warmth of his embrace. Her heart hammered in her chest, her body alive with sensation. It was a kiss that said everything she hadn't been able to put into words, a declaration of interest that was as raw as it was thrilling.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and smiling, Emma felt a rush of exhilaration. "I've wanted to do that since the moment I saw you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Leon chuckled, his eyes dark with desire. "I had a feeling," he said, his thumb tracing the swollen line of her bottom lip. "But I didn't want to assume."

They stood there for a moment longer, their foreheads pressed together, before Emma stepped back. "I should go in," she said, her voice shaky. "But I had a great time."

Leon nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "Me too," he murmured. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Emma nodded, her cheeks still flushed from their passionate embrace. "Tomorrow," she promised, before slipping inside the building, her heart racing.

The next day, Emma found herself counting the minutes until she saw Leon again. She'd never felt this way about someone she'd just met, but there was something about him that just clicked. They had plans to study together at the library, but all she could think about was the way his eyes had searched hers the night before.

When she finally saw him, her heart skipped a beat. He was sitting at their usual table, a stack of books in front of him, his dark hair slightly disheveled in a way that made him look even more attractive. As she approached, he looked up and smiled, the same smile that had captivated her the moment she saw him.

They spent hours poring over textbooks and notes, their legs brushing together under the table. The occasional glance and touch sent a thrill through her that she couldn't ignore. It was clear that their connection was more than just physical; they enjoyed each other's company on a level that went deeper than attraction.

As the night grew late, Emma found herself lost in his eyes, forgetting all about the assignments that lay untouched between them. "Leon," she whispered, her voice filled with longing.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. "Yes?"

"I don't want to wait anymore," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want you."

Leon's eyes searched hers, a silent question hanging in the air. And when she nodded, he didn't hesitate. He leaned in and kissed her again, his hands cradling her face with a tenderness that took her breath away.

The library was forgotten as they stumbled out into the night, their kisses growing more urgent with every step. They didn't stop until they reached her dorm, their bodies pressed against the door, their hearts beating in time with the promise of what was to come.

It was the start of something beautiful, something that neither of them could have predicted. And as they broke apart, Emma knew that she'd found someone special in Leon, someone who saw her not just as Kyle's friend or the girl from the cafe, but as Emma, a person worthy of love and passion.

With trembling hands, she led him into her dorm, the excitement building with every step. The room was a mess, a whirlwind of textbooks and clothes, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the way he looked at her, the heat in his eyes that said he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

They barely made it to the couch before their kisses grew more intense, their hands exploring each other with an urgency that was both thrilling and terrifying. Emma felt the fabric of her dress give way as Leon's hands slid up her thighs, his touch setting her skin alight. She gasped as his fingers found the edge of her panties, his touch sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. His mouth however was fulfilling her like a man starved.

And then they were on the bed, the softness of the mattress giving way beneath them. Leon took his time, kissing and caressing every inch of her body, leaving her trembling with need. When his mouth found hers again, she could taste the desperation in his kisses, the need that mirrored her own.

Their clothes were discarded in a tangle of fabric, their bodies coming together in a dance that was both new and familiar. He was gentle but firm, his movements sure and deliberate, as if he knew exactly what she needed. And when he finally entered her, Emma felt a rush of emotion so strong it was almost overwhelming. It was more than just physical; it was a connection that went soul-deep.

Leon's eyes never left hers as he moved inside her, their bodies in perfect sync. She felt a building pressure, a coil of pleasure that threatened to consume her. And when she came, it was with a cry that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth.

But Emma wasn't one to be outdone. With a fiery determination, she rolled him onto his back and took control, her mouth exploring his body with a hunger that surprised even her. She took him in her mouth, savoring the taste of him, feeling his body tense beneath her. And when he came, it was with a groan that echoed her own release, a sound that seemed to seal the bond between them.

As they lay tangled together, their breathing ragged and their hearts racing, Emma felt something she hadn't felt in a long time: contentment. This was what it was like to be truly seen, truly wanted. And as she looked into Leon's eyes, she knew that she'd do whatever it took to hold onto this feeling, to keep him in her life.

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of classes, late-night study sessions, and stolen moments together. They were insatiable, their connection growing stronger with every touch, every whispered confession.

One could argue a cup of coffee, a gay best friend and a touch of curiosity could always satisfy the most grueling of passions, lust.

end.

Thank you Emma (Anon) for your ask xx

[ashboy-3]

The Unspoken Deal

Fandom: Danny Phantom, John Constantine, and DCU Characters: John Constantine, Danny Fenton/Phantom, Batman, Superman, other JL members Words: 3507 Summary:

Danny and John have a deal. It's a simple deal. Every month they have a meet up. Danny keeps as much control over the ghost as he can in return John keeps track of them in the human realm. That's it nothing else should be so simple.

So why do feelings keep getting involved and why does the justice league suddenly seem so interested in the beings of the infinite realms.

John knows one thing for sure: This is all Danny's fault.

“You know these meetings are supposed to be taken seriously? Right mate?” John Constantine asked, only a little annoyed at dealing with the half-ghost.

“Who says? The council, meh I don’t really fully care what they have to say,” the half-ghost laughed, throwing another snowball at the human.

“Why do I put up with you again?” Constantine rubbed his hand over his face.

“You love me,” the ghost teased.

“What makes you so sure,” John hid the small smile that was on his face. He would never admit it, but the half ghost does hold a special place within his heart, a place that very few ever made it to.

“Any big threats I need to know about?” the ghost floated in front of John, ignoring the question that was being asked of him.

“Nothing I’ve heard about oh Danny boy,” John nodded towards him, watching as the Ghost King looked him up and down.

“Sell your soul recently?” Danny eyed him.

“Don’t know what your talkin about mate,” John avoided looking at the ghost, choosing instead to focus on his neglected cigarette.

“Well mate,” Danny easily copied the brit’s accent. “I happen to have a soul piece here.” Danny took the small delicate object out of his pocket, showing it off to John’s widened eyes.

“Be careful with that!” He shouted, seeing Danny just throwing it in the air as if it was a plastic ball.

“I would be if you didn’t treat your soul like a throw away joke,” Danny glared at his old friend, watching him put out the cancer stick as the two walked inside the castle also known as phantom’s keep and talk. “I’m serious John. Every time you sell your soul, I have to find a way to get it. You’ve sold over half of your soul. Soon you won’t have any pieces left,” Danny rolled his eyes, walking into a room where he keeps a singular candy jar, dropping the glowing piece in the jar. It made a small clink as it fell with the other pieces.

“That really is my whole soul isn’t it,” John peaked into the room to look at the jar.

“Farid so. Makes almost a whole soul. Be careful, our time is almost up so I’ll be seeing you next month?” Danny frowned at the idea of John leaving.

“I’ll be sure to give you a call if something comes up mate,” John assured him.

“And the heroes will be kept out of my realm?” They both know Danny’s rules about humans walking around the realms. Even now, years later from his teenage years, the humans he allows in are few and small. Adding heroes to that list just makes it worse.

“No heroes,” John assured him, opening the portal with a simple spell, stepping back into the house of mystery. “I’ll be seeing you ole Danny boy,” John smiled a sad smile at watching the portal close, shutting off his communication with the older ghost.

Recently all of their monthly meetings have the old warlock feeling like this. Feeling like something is missing or wrong. Sometimes he debates saying more, extending their meetings, even offering to meet more than once a month, but it never goes that far, choosing instead to ignore the feeling and continue on his day.

Pouring himself a drink, a favorite activity of his. He couldn’t help the groan that came from his mouth at hearing his phone ring.

Ring Ring Ring

Constantine sighed as the annoying ring hurt his ears. It was worse when he checked the caller ID. “What do ya want bats. Ima little busy?”

“Meeting at the watchtower. Be there,” the rough voice ordered from the phone.

“You could at least butter me up a little,” the thick British accent responded. Batman didn’t dignify him with a response, choosing instead to just hang up the phone.

“Well doll seems I still can’t take a break,” John signed, talking to the house. Downing his drink within one gulp he casted another spell, landing him right in the watchtower.

“Do you have to appear on the table every time?” Superman asked in wonder.

“Just how magic works mate,” John dusted off his tan coat, stepping off the table that was surrounded by multiple leaguers. “Alright what’s this whole shin dig about?”

“We have gotten multiple reports and sightings about strange creatures,” Batman started, clicking buttons on a small remote for all of the leaguers to see. Up on the big screens were creatures, creatures that Constantine was very familiar with. A bad feeling began to weave its way into his liver ruined gut.

“Are they aliens?” one of the leaguers questioned.

“Nothing in any of our databases,” Hal shook his head with crossed arms.

“Nothing from under the sea,” Aquaman agreed.

“So, they’ve come from a strange place that none of us have heard about?” Wonder Woman threw her hands in the air from disbelief.

“I don’t believe they come from the underworld, but John would be a better judge then me,” Zatara looked towards the brit.

“I don’t know nothing bout them mate. Prolly best to leave them be for now,” John shrugged, ignoring the questioning looks he was getting from some his ‘coworkers’ with trust issues.

“I’ll look more into them,” Zatara nodded. “Find out if they become a threat.” He assured the league.

“We’ll be looking into the lantern database and getting contact with others, find out if anyone knows anything,” Jon agreed, nodding towards Hal. All three getting up to leave the table.

“Well, if that’s all I’ll be on my bloody way. Drag me out of my house for notin,” John muttered angrily.

“Actually, John if you wouldn’t mind having a conversation with me?” Zatara asked, waving him over.

“Fine,” the brit groaned, getting a pack of his smokes out, lighting one up within the watchtower, ignoring glares he was getting from the three top dogs.

Zatara had taken John to a lone room, nothing really in it besides a desk, a few chairs, and one small couch, it was clearly only a room used for conversations.

“What’s this bout?” John wondered.

“You know something about those creatures,” Zatara stated firmly.

“I know nothin bout nothin,” John nodded, not agreeing with the magician’s statement.

“Oh please, you’re eyes widened when you saw the pictures. If you know something it should be shared. I will not reveal your secrets, however if you refuse to say anything it will just cause everyone, including me, to dig deeper into them.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise. They could be dangerous.”

John laughed at that statement. “If that’s all I’m leaving.” Zatara was ready to fight back but looking up he discovered to see the brit gone.

***

“Danny mate pick up your damn phone!” John yelled at the blasted thing from his third time calling his old friend, now pacing around the old House of Mystery. Grabbing the full glass of scotch that the house kindly made for him.

“Sorry John. I was in a meeting,” Danny smiled into the phone. He may be a supernatural being, but he still had plenty to use of his fourteen-year-old mind, an age he hasn’t been for many years.

“Danny you bloody idiot! I thought that you were keeping them under control!” John yelled into the phone, surprising Danny.

“Don’t you dare yell at me John Constantine!” Danny yelled back into the phone, stopping him in his place.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Danny boy. The Justice League just got on my bloody ass about your spooks. Bats is ready to go to war with them,” John sat down in his chair.

“Want to summon me? We can talk about it?” Danny asked into the phone, both knew the undertones of the conversation.

“Things never go right when I summon you,” John refused to look towards a picture of him and Danny. The old ghost laughing, his baby face unable to grow much facial hair, as John cheered a beer, a smile on his face as well. It was one of their first nights out together in the human world.

“But it’s fun. No funny business this time?” Danny offered.

“Now you’re just tempting fate love,” John grinned into his scotch.

“You’re easy to tempt,” Danny nodded in agreement, both understanding the silent message.

Grabbing a piece of green glowing chalk John stumbled towards an empty part of his floor, no need to look up the sigils Danny choose for his summoning. He didn’t understand most of them, but the guy laughed every time he appeared in the human realm, a silent joke that only he knows. He remembers one drunken night when Danny tried to explain, he got nowhere with the brit.

“Numquam agnus dabo te

numquam agnus dimittam te

numquam amet discurrere et deseram te

numquam agnus fac te clamare

numquam agnus dicere vale

numquam agnus dic mendacium et nocuerunt tibi”

John, always confused by the spell, spoke it loud and clear, letting the candles and lights around the house dance as the green fire descended from the hells, lighting up the circle, leaving in a swirl with a half ghost king, smiling and evil smile at him.

“You summoned me,” Danny stepped out of the circle, walking closer to John.

“I summoned you,” he agreed, the mood much different from their business meeting they had just yesterday. John’s breathing becoming deeper and heavier the closer Danny stepped towards him. It forever amazed him that the ghost could become bigger or smaller with just a thought.

“I promised no funny business,” Danny noted, his half breaths just as deep.

“Screw that!” John declared, pushing their lips together, creating a fire between the two. A fire that would not let out till the two were done.

This was routine for when John summoned Danny. A routine that neither is sure how it started, but neither regret. They both agree it’s just sex. No feelings need to be mixed in, but John can’t help the flutter in hie heart when he thinks about everything that Danny does for him. Keeping him updated, collecting his soul contracts, giving him this. It was everything that he could dream about.

“Do you want to stop?” Danny asked carefully, his breath on John’s.

“If you stop, I will exorcize you,” John glared at the ghost.

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed, the two stumbling towards John’s room in the old mystery house.

The next day, both barely clothed, wrapped up in blankets and each other, John woke up, staring at Danny, tracing his fingers over the old, faded scars.

“You’re staring again,” Danny’s eyes fluttered open.

“You make it hard not to,” John grinned at him, turning around in the bed to light a cigarette.

“You said my subjects are hurting the humans,” Danny started to sit up in the bed, the ring of rage glowing proudly on his finger.

“I never said hurting. I keep an eye on them for you here. I promised, didn’t I?” John turned towards him, clearly understanding that this is no longer pleasure, only business.

“Then what was the call about?” Danny raised an eyebrow, getting up from the bed in a way only one trained in royalty could. John thought that he was beautiful.

“Bats called in a meeting. Trying to figure out where they came from. I was honest. Told them they ain’t form the underworld. Bloody Zatara caught me. Wanted to know how I recognized them. Refused to tell him that they were looking for limbo. I made a promise to ya Danny boy and I intend to keep it,” John tapped his cigarette on the ashtray he keeps by the bed. Watching as Danny slowly dressed himself in his torn-up jeans and shirt, a jacket going with it. One would never think he was dead, much less royalty.

“Do you want me to talk to them?” Danny asked.

“Do you want to talk to them?” John uno reversed him.

“I’m free in two days. I’ll calm down the Justice League,” Danny snapped his fingers, disappearing in green fire, just the same as he arrived. John knows that when he walks back to his living room all evidence of his summoning will be gone as well.

“Damn. You have it bad,” a voice laughed from the living room.

“Damn it!” John shouted, face turning red from anger as he shut his bedroom door, a door that was not shut last night, as he quickly got dressed, stomping back into the living room. “Chas. What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you. Someone has to,” he shrugged. “Haven’t seen you be like that with someone in forever. So, when’s the next date?” Chas teased.

“Sod off Chas. We’re not dating,” John waved him away, grabbing a cold beer.

“Sure. You only look the people you shag like that because no feelings are attached,” Chas nodded, clearly sarcastic.

“He doesn’t want a relationship. He just wants to make sure I keep his subjects out of trouble while in the human realm. Nothing more nothing less,” John took a big gulp of beer.

“Have either of you ever actually talked about this?” Chas asked.

“C’mon mate. We’ve never talked about it because there is nothing to talk about,” John yelled. “We meet in his realm at a set time we talk. If something comes up, I can call him,” John shrugged.

“so, nothing ever happened while in his realm?” Chas raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing worth bringing up in conversation,” John argued back, the jar that contains his soul in the back of his mind.

“Sure,” Chas snorted, clearly not believing him. “I’ll leave you. Just. Don’t ruin this for yourself John. You are clearly happy with him and that doesn’t happen often with you,” Chas walked out of the house, leaving John by himself, only the house to keep him company.

“I don’t like him. I can’t like him. Why would I even like him?” John asked himself and the house. “The guy only rescues my soul every chance he can get. He willingly comes to visit the human realm for me. He willingly gave me his summoning. “Fuck!” John shouted, realization hitting him.

Panic still fresh in his brain he called up Batman. “I have news about the creatures. Meeting in two days.” John didn’t give the guy a chance to reply, closing his phone and ending the call. He has two days to get his body ass unsober as possible before he has to see Danny again.

***

“Alright bats. Everyone here?” John asked, appearing once again on the table, the annoyance clear on Superman’s face.

“You have news about the strange creatures?” Batman asked, coming from him however, everyone knew that it was an order.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll get to that. Move out of the way people,” John only got down form the table to put his bag down, grabbing the green glowing chalk, and walking back up on the table, aware that he has other magic user’s eyes on him. Writing the familiar symbols, he knew by heart. He still had the old book on his shelf, but he has no use for it.

“Be prepared mates. He’s a tad dramatic,” John warned, muttering the same summoning from before. His eyes turning white as green flames enveloped the room, clearly it was done in a more dramatic way for the audience the two have present.

“Numquam agnus dabo te

numquam agnus dimittam te

numquam amet discurrere et deseram te

numquam agnus fac te clamare

numquam agnus dicere vale

numquam agnus dic mendacium et nocuerunt tibi”

Unlike yesterday where all Danny was wearing was ripped jeans, a t-shirt full of small holes and a warm jacket, today he was draped in armor of black, white, and ecto green. The crown of fire worn proudly at the top of his head and the ring of rage glowing proudly on his finger. Fire forming under his feet as he took steps down the table. John had to take a smirk at how Danny presented himself. This is the same person who tripped over his feet walking in a straight line the other week, crashing his face right into ghost rocks. It never amazed John that Danny could present himself this way, but no one could deny the affect that it had.

“Who are you?” Batman asked, taking the lead as usual.

“Did you not explain to them?” Danny’s voice now held an echo to it, a few leaguers unsure if they were hearing him correctly.

“Sorry love figured you would love to do the honors,” John waved him off, taking a seat.

“I am Phantom. King of the Infinite Realms. John Constantine is the watcher of the human realm for me. He has informed me that the “Justice League” was getting curious about my subjects,” Danny chooses his words carefully. John snorted at his phrasing of the Justice League. “My subjects are not causing lasting harm to any humans. No humans have been injured from them or have been killed. There should be no reason that this club house is looking into my subjects,” Danny’s eyes glowed a deep green, clearly angry about the accusations he has formed in his mind.

“We never claimed that your subjects have injured anybody. We were just concerned. These are new creatures. No one knew of them, and we wanted to make sure they were not a risk,” Wonder Woman was quick to jump in.

“Hah!” Danny grinned, showing his fangs in full view. “My subjects are not new. Most have been around longer then you have been alive. It is your ignorance that has made you assume such a thing.” John knows that if this was with just the two of them alone Danny would have cracked some stupid joke like, “You know what assuming does right? Make an ass out of you and me! Ha! Come on John! It’s funny!”

“I’m sorry?” Wonder Woman was confused.

“My subjects are mostly ghost. Spirits who have refused to pass on. Spirits who have been formed from human ideals. Death, Nocturne, and Time. These are all spirits that have been formed from the thoughts of humans. They will live as long as their ideas live on. There are ones that form naturally, there are ones who have died and left this world, unable to move on they come to my realm. They come back to finish what they started, their right to, or to just cause petty mischief, something they need to do to survive. I keep an eye on every single one in the human realm. From now on if there is an issue you go straight to John. Do I make myself clear?” There was a fire burning in Danny’s eyes as he turned around, stomping out, not wanting to hear any more questions.

“Guess I have no choice but to follow his highness,” John sounded like he was mocking the king, but he knows that if Chas was here, he would call John out on his bullshit quicker then he could snap.

“Did you see their faces?” Danny smiled, as John grabbed Danny’s arm, easily bringing them back to the house of mystery.

“They believe that you are a ruthless tyrant who cares only for his people,” John agreed, pouring himself a drink.

“Pour me one. I know it’s great isn’t it! I worked all day with Ember to get that speech perfect!” Danny’s grin couldn’t get wider, John handed him the drink, watching as Danny drank it with ease.

“Listen Danny boy,” John started, happy that he had the famous liquid courage to help him In this moment.

“What is it, John?” Danny looked up from his drink. There were no problems. The Justice League was handled. What else could there be.

“Mate- Love. It has come to my attention that we might have to rethink our situation John tried, not fully sure how to get the words out.

“You’re going to have to be clearer with me John,” Danny crossed his legs, floating in midair as if Gravity didn’t exist.

“Love I-“John’s throat stopped, not letting him get the words out. “Damn it!” John chugged the rest of his drink, cursing the heavens at his predicament. “Danny I- “once again he was stopped by himself, his beer not helping him at all.

Tired of trying with words, John did the next best thing, he let his actions speak for him. Grabbing Danny, pulling him close, no lust in the moment, unlike a few days ago, he took a deep hopeful breath and pushed a messy kiss upon the half ghost. “Danny, I like you,” John was finally able to whisper.

“Took you long enough mate,” Danny’s smile was wide and hopeful, grabbing John’s neck to kiss him once again. John knows that he’s in for a lifetime of puns, but he is kissing Danny, kissing the half ghost he doesn’t regret a single thing.