#and now that he’s in the spotlight for this one thing he can’t help but feel like a bit of a disappointment

[dollishsz]

FAMOUS FASHION DESIGNER ── .✦ ౨ৎ

a/n: a anon request (here) thought of this because why not and now we’re running up and new!

(tags: batboys x famous fashion!fem!reader) (non-comedy, a request)

#BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

- Bruce would respect your work, of course, but his deep-seated desire to protect you from the dangers of the vigilante life might make him overly cautious around you.

- He admires your ability to juggle both a successful career and maintain a life outside the public eye. However, he might find your fame a little too much for his liking.

- Bruce would frequently give you advice about public image, though he might not always understand the intricacies of the fashion world. His attempts to help you stay “low-key” could lead to some interesting clashes when you ignore his advice for the sake of creativity.

- Even though he keeps his distance emotionally, Bruce’s underlying support would be there—whether it’s subtly clearing paths for you at high-profile events or pulling strings to make sure you’re protected during risky fashion shows.

#DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

- Dick would totally be your biggest cheerleader. He’d attend your shows, sit front row, and gush over how amazing you look in every outfit. He’s your unofficial ambassador in Gotham.

- He loves how you balance being both stylish and authentic. If you're out in public together, he's the one holding your hand while flashing his famous grin, proudly showing off your connection.

- Dick loves hearing your ideas for design, and he would often try to convince you to design something for him—though he'd probably want a superhero version of it (he just wants nightwing merch 😞)

- He’d love surprising you with flowers or rare vintage pieces as a way of showing appreciation for your work.

#JASON TODD ── .✦

- Jason has a complicated relationship with fame. He’d definitely be a little reluctant to dive into the world of the media that you’re part of, but he respects your talent.

- He’s drawn to how independent and self-sufficient you are. As someone who’s been through a lot, he sees a lot of strength in you that aligns with his own struggles.

- Jason might surprise you by buying something from your collection, but it would be a limited edition or something very bold that stands out. He’d love a darker, edgier piece that’s still functional (you had to convince him to not fill his fucking closet with leather jackets)

- When it comes to fashion shows, he’d be your quiet supporter in the background, always watching your back while you’re in the spotlight. He’d prefer to be near you but stay out of the media’s glare.

#TIM DRAKE ── .✦

- Tim would absolutely admire your business sense. He’d be impressed by how you manage the complexities of being a famous designer while keeping your personal life secure.

- He would offer his expertise on marketing, analytics, and tech side of things, maybe even help you design a cutting-edge website or app to engage with your fans.

- While he might not be as openly affectionate as Dick or Jason, Tim would show his support by attending your shows, helping out behind the scenes, or even sending you design critiques (in a non-judgmental, constructive way).

- He’d be interested in the logic behind your designs and how you conceptualize your collections, seeing it as a kind of puzzle to solve.

#DAMIAN WAYNE (aged up) ── .✦

- Damian would initially be skeptical of the fashion world and would likely think it’s an unnecessary distraction from what really matters. However, he can’t help but be impressed by your discipline and work ethic.

- While he doesn’t understand the appeal of fame, he respects your skill and will quietly defend you against anyone who criticizes your designs.

- Damian would always want you to wear something practical, but he has a certain fascination with your ability to make anything look elegant, even if it’s just casual attire.

- He might buy you a piece of rare armor or something useful from his own collection as a way of blending his world with yours. It’s his way of saying he sees the importance of your craft—even if he’s not vocal about it, just so he can mix it up yk?

[lovebittenbyevans]

Behind The Curtain | Part 1

Summary: When you and Toji thought you both finally went your separated ways but it turns out not everything is all that it seems to be when you both can’t escape the one thing you wanted for so long – Divorce. As Toji tries to get back into the spotlight you both began to wonder if this was ever real between you two or fake

Pairing: Actor/Ex-Husband! Toji Fushiguro x Female Reader

Warnings: cursed words

Author note: This will be a short series.

Part 1

Seeing him again you did not know what to think of it. You forgot how fast a year can go by quickly but you would always remember how he looked. You picture him in your head so many times but eventually you know this isn’t what it used to be.

You clear your throat as you pull out the chair to sit across from him. “Toji.” It was eight o’clock at night and you were in the mood for something warm to drink.

Toji takes a sip of his coffee and leans forward in his chair a bit. “Thank you for meeting me, babygirl.” You notice he had on a hat that says ‘better yourself’ while wearing trimmed black sunglasses along with a white shirt and blue denim jeans.

“Toji, cut to the chase.” You tell him seriously. You don’t have time to hear his fake sobbing stories this time and excuse.

He trailed off. “Always straight to the fucking point, huh?” He reached inside his red jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Remember how we finally got divorced from each other and my lawyer helped us out?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “Yeah, why? Your lawyer finally admitted she is a scammer and a piece of shit.”

“Well…” Toji exhaled loudly as he unfolded the paper and slid it towards you. “Apparently we are still married to each other.”

You took the paper and looked at it for a moment. “What?” You carefully read what was written on the paper.

11/4/23 –Toji Fushiguro and Y/N Fushiguro are still happily married

Your eyes slowly looked at him. “What the fuck!?” You scoff, shaking your head.

He lowered his hat down as his eyes were on you. “I know, look, I feel the same way you do.”

“You better get a fucking good lawyer this time and fixed this!” You raised your voice a little.

He leans back against his seat. “I know but we have another problem.” You didn’t want to hear those few words at all.

Before you open your mouth to talk, your phone vibrates against your jeans pocket. “That's definitely important.” He said.

You take your phone inside your green jeans pocket and check to see what showed up on your screen.

Actor! Toji Fushiguro and Y/N Fushiguro are happily married a year ago

Your eyes widened immediately when you saw the headlines. You seriously wanted to vomit and crawl into a hole.

Fuck!

“How? W–What?” You were speechless and shocked at the same time.

Toji took one last sip of his drink and said. “It was too late before I could call my publicist to ask them to get rid of the story.”

Your mind had too many thoughts right now. That bastard lawyer for not filing the papers correctly. You wanted to scream loudly but you already knew it was not going to make your problem go away.

“Too late?” You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?” A part of you didn’t believe him one bit.

He took off his black shade sunglasses and pushed his chair back. “Look, I know you don’t believe anything I tell you anymore but I’m telling you the truth.”

You scoffed. “How long do we have to wait this time to finally go our separate ways.”

“Um, well…” He rubs his chin while looking at you. “She thinks this might help my image. I have trouble staying out of scandals.”

You shot him a look. “Excuse me? Are you–Sharon is a fucking joke.” You got up from your chair and pushed it underneath the table. “That’s not my problem, you can’t control yourself T.”

You were ready to walk out the door when he grabs your wrist, forcing you to look at him. “Wait, how long are you going to be in London for?”

You glanced at his hand on your wrist before looking at him. “My flight leaves today like I told you over the phone.”

Toji took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Stay.” His piercing dark blue eyes were fixated on you.

You let out a chuckle and pulled away from him. “Goodbye T.” You walked out of the coffee shop, struggling to keep a straight face.

[jamiesfootball]

Ramblings about my own fic-

Man I knew I wanted to tackle Colin in the wake of coming out publicly, but I did not expect the way this path has taken me. Because while that is The Thing Going On, it is not the thrust of his story, at least not as far as we get it when filtered through a Roy Kent POV.

Anyways I wrote the Big Talk between him and Roy yesterday, and it’s a lot about self-esteem and where Colin fits into the dynamics of the team, and I’m quite proud of it but I also can’t share details because spoilers and it’s killing me

[amirasainz]

Can you please do driver reader is literally the absolute Angel of the paddock and everyone adores her, she’s the cutest sweetest little bean that you can’t help but love, she’s a Redbull driver and Christian always fawns over her and talks about his ‘daughter’ ( it’s clear she’s the favourite ). Even the older drivers love her e.g kimi, jenson, Seb, mark. Platonic pleaseeee

Omg, that is such a sweet idea. I did the format a bit differently, hope you don't mind.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

The Redbull Princess

YN YLN was a known name in the motor sport world. Not only was she the youngest driver currently on the grid - only 19 years - but she is the first female to ever drive for RedBull. Not oy that, but also the only woman on the grid.

Despite having a different gender, the other drivers never treated her bad. In fact, one could say that YN got the whole "Princess Treatment" from the drivers and teams. Each driver has taken a special place in her life.

Exhibit A: The protective one

The paddock was buzzing with energy, reporters swarming like bees near the Red Bull garage. YN was prepping for her media rounds, already feeling the weight of the spotlight on her. As she stepped into the press pen, a group of journalists immediately approached, firing off questions.

"YN, how do you feel about the pressure of being the youngest driver? Do you think it affects your performance?"

Before she could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, slipping between her and the reporters with a grin that was anything but friendly. "I think that's enough for now," Max said, his blue eyes narrowing. "She’s got a race to focus on. Back off."

The reporters, visibly intimidated by the reigning World Champion, quickly shuffled away. YN let out a breath of relief, nudging Max with her elbow.

"You know, I can handle them."

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. "Yeah, but why would I let them bother you when I can have fun scaring them off?"

"You're impossible," she laughed. "But thanks."

Exhibit B: The gossip King

YN walked into the Ferrari garage, still buzzing from practice. She found Charles leaning against his car, drinking water. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Charlie! Did you see that move I pulled in turn 9?" she said, excitedly plopping down next to him.

Charles grinned, instantly slipping into gossip mode. "I did! Smooth as butter. But did you hear about Fernando's radio message? He was furious about the tire degradation. Drama!"

YN's eyes widened. "No way! Spill all the tea, Leclerc."

Charles leaned in, whispering. "Apparently, his engineer told him to manage his tires better, and Nando snapped, saying, ‘I am managing them!’" He mimicked Fernando’s accent, making YN burst into laughter.

Exhibit C: The helping hand

The young RedBull driver just exited her car, when she felt someone grabbing her Birking Bag. When she quickly turned her head, she was meat with the sight of Carlos not only caring her bag in his hands and her coat on his arm, but carring his own stuff as well.

"Carlito, what are you doing? You don’t have to carry all my stuff for me." she told him, after they started walking towards the entrance.

Carlos mate an irritated sound, before responding to her. "Nonsense, hermana. Your job is to win this weekend. So let me help you with all the other things, comprende?"

Before Carlos could get an answer, she threw her arms around him, whispering a small thank you in his ear.

Exhibit D: The personal chef

YN sat in the Red Bull hospitality area, poking at her plate of food with a discontented look. Yuki walked over, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"Not good enough for you, huh?" Yuki teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

YN scrunched up her nose. "I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t eat this."

Without missing a beat, Yuki stood up. "I’ll make you something. What do you want?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yuki, really? You don’t have to!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you’re picky. I know that. What do you want? Miso soup? Onigiri?"

YN tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Onigiri sounds perfect."

Within minutes, Yuki was back, placing a plate of freshly made onigiri in front of her. YN took a bite and sighed contentedly. "You're the best, Yuki."

He grinned. "I know."

Exhibit E: The "annoying" prankster

YN was busy trying to make sure her helmet and gear were ready when suddenly, her entire backpack fell off the counter with a loud thud, spilling everything.

"Lando!" she yelled, spinning around, catching the British driver grinning like a mischievous child.

"What?" Lando said, feigning innocence, hands up. "It slipped."

YN gave him a look but couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face. Lando always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was through relentless pranks.

"One day, Norris, one day!" she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"I’ll be waiting," Lando chuckled, before helping her pick up her things

Exhibit F: The shoulder to cry on

"I just can't believe it. I was so close. How did I manage to bin the car into the wall on the last corner" muttered the 19 year old. Her face pressed in Oscars neck, who was busy stroking her hair. He knew better than to interrupt her during her rant. Knowing it would help her when she got everything of her chest.

After a moment, she shakily breathed out. Oscar knew that the only thing he could do now was to let her fall apart while he would catch every piece of her.

And that's what he did. While she cried her heart out, Oscar held her close to him, rocking them slowly in a soothing matter. It felt like nothing could happen to her in Oscars arms. He would protect her from the outside world as long as she needed

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

Exhabit G: The fashionista

Lewis stood beside YN, eyeing her racing suit critically before smirking. "That’s not gonna work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at her boots. "Those shoes? No way. They don’t match the rest of the suit."

YN raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to walk the runway, Lewis. I’m racing."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can do both. Come on, let’s get you a new pair of shoes. You’ll thank me later."

And true to his words, YN received a new pair of racing shoes only a few hours later. They certainly looked better than her old pair.

Exhibit H: The mother-hen

George was hovering near the buffet in the paddock, watching YN closely as she piled food onto her plate. He narrowed his eyes as she bypassed the salad section.

"YN, you need to eat more greens. And have you had any water today?" George asked, his tone dangerously close to motherly.

YN groaned. "George, I’m fine. I had water this morning."

"That’s not enough," he replied sternly, filling a glass and handing it to her. "Drink. Now."

She pouted but took the glass. "Okay, Mom."

Exhibit I: The proud dad

During a press conference, Christian Horner stood beside YN, smiling at the reporters. "You all know my daughter here is the star of the show," he said, gesturing towards YN.

YN blushed at the comment. "Christian!"

The reporters laughed, but YN knew Christian wasn’t entirely joking. He had taken her under his wing from day one, treating her like family. And she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Exhibit J: Bwoah

In a rare quiet moment, YN had somehow convinced Kimi Räikkönen — the Iceman himself — to do a TikTok trend with her. As the camera rolled, Kimi deadpanned his way through the trend, barely moving but somehow nailing it.

"Thanks for doing this, Kimi," YN said, grinning as they finished.

Kimi shrugged. "Bwoah, don’t mention it, kid. But don’t tell the other drivers that you are my favourite"

YN laughed. "Deal."

[snowballseal]

How they react to you feeling insecure (LaDS)

Summary: How the Love and Deepspace boys react to you feeling insecure about various things. Includes Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, and Xavier. Lots of fluff.

Word Count: they're all around 1000 roughly

Note: Warnings of different kinds of insecurity, ranging from physical to mental. I'm not sure of how well the Xavier one turned out, he's harder for me to write, but I couldn't leave him out!!! Anyways, hope yall enjoy!

Rafayel

His ended up being a lot longer, so it's posted separately.

here

--

Sylus

Being partners with Sylus is a…daunting position to be in.

You always considered yourself a fairly average person, more focused on who you are than what you look like. It’s not that you don’t like the way you look - you do - and you don’t like comparing yourself to anyone, but you don’t plan on being a model anytime soon. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Then you met Sylus, a man who looks like he was carved from the marble of ancient architecture. He could stand in a room of masterpieces and people would still look at him instead of the art. And since you’re by his side now, that means they’re also looking at you.

Being stared down by wanderers in one thing. Being stared down by the most powerful and prevalent members of the N109 Zone? You hate to admit that it gets to you. In fact, it gets so under your skin, that even when you’re dressed in the most extravagant dresses and decadent jewelry, you can’t help but feel…insecure.

Twisting in front of the mirror, you eye every detail of the dress Sylus bought you. It’s perfect, of course. The man has an annoying knack for getting you the most beautiful things and knowing exactly what fits you. The color compliments your hair and it’s comfortable to boot.

Still. You can’t help but feel like a kid trying to fit in at the adults table, wearing your mother’s heels even though they don’t fit. A bit ridiculous.

“Do you not like it?” Sylus appears behind you, dressed in a matching, lavish suit. 

You jump a little, eyes flicking up to meet his in the mirror. His eyes burn into you, reading the hesitation on your face as you curl your arms around your stomach. There’s no fiery retort or witty comment like usual. You just look back at your dress, the tips of your ears tinging pink.

A frown pulls at Sylus’ lips, his voice softening, “What’s wrong?”

“...Do you really think people believe us? That we’re together?” You ask quietly, shuffling your weight back and forth. “That I’m a good match for you?”

You’re keenly aware that you’ve never had a conversation like this with Sylus. For the most part your relationship has been filled with teasing and playful bickering. It’s always light. Or about work. This is new, and while you trust him more than anything, you hate not knowing how he will react.

Sylus hums, low and thoughtful, as he curls his arms around you, “Does it matter to you what others think?”

You let out a sigh, leaning back into his touch thankfully. You want to say no. You want to keep up the air of confidence, but that quiet voice of doubt keeps worming its way through your thoughts.

“I just…I feel like I’m not what people expect. And…” you try to explain, hesitating. Sylus presses a kiss to your shoulder, offering a hum of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you add, “It bothers me. It feels like I’m being forced into the spotlight but I’m not meant to be there. Like I don’t fit.”

“Hmm, so you feel like an odd duckling.” You give him a small jab, and Sylus chuckles. “My apologies. I think you misunderstand the attention though.” He pulls you closer. You shiver as his lips trace along the crook of your shoulder, pressing delicate kisses up the side of your neck, until he can murmur lowly into your ear, “You’re too humble, kitten. When you walk into a room, all eyes turn to you, not out of judgment, but out of jealousy. Afterall, you’ve tamed the leader of Onychinus. Even if you walked in with your uniform, they’d look at you the same. And I get the pleasure of walking around with the most powerful-” He presses his lips to your jaw. “-beautiful-” His lips trace against your cheek. “-woman of Linkon City. Don’t let the attention of those lesser than you make you doubt, otherwise I might have to find another way to show them just how well we fit together.”

Sylus’ eyes catch yours in the mirror again. They’re dark, like coals surrounded by flickering cinders. So intense you can almost feel the flames licking along your skin. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he’s being genuine. And that sets your heart racing. Along with the way he holds you so close, equal parts possessive and reverent. Like worship.

“Your devotion might scare some people, Sylus,” you whisper, glancing sideways at him.

He flashes a dangerous smile, “Does it scare you?”

You cast one final glance at your reflections before turning around in his hold and curling your arms around his neck. Sylus raises a challenging brow.

“I’m not. I like how you stand up for me, even when it’s against my own insecurities.” You draw him down, pressing a kiss to that carnal smile. Sylus softens immediately, cupping your jaw to draw you into a deeper kiss. The warmth that simmers in each and every touch leaves you a little breathless when you pull away. Pressing against his chest before he can drag you in again, you make sure to say one last thing, “Thank you, Sylus. I’ll make sure to remember all of that…especially the part about you being wrapped around my finger.”

“Hmm, such a cruel mistress, indeed.”

“And you love me.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, “Yes, I do. So, will you accompany me to this auction now?”

---

Zayne

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m going?” You ask, voice wavering with nerves as you straighten Zayne’s tie for him.

“Isn’t it natural to bring one’s partner to these kinds of events?” He tilts his head, brow perked ever so slightly.

You nod, but can’t seem to erase the frown on your lips.

A week ago, Zayne had asked if you would accompany him to his medical school’s class reunion banquet. He had been asked to give a special word, given the reputation he had developed in his time at Akso Hospital, not to mention winning the Starcatcher Award for his work.

At first, you were ecstatic to have an opportunity to learn more about his old life. He has such a thing about living in the present, you hardly get to hear any stories about his time in med school, or when he was doing rotations at the hospital. You were eager to meet the people who he used to spend time with and hopefully catch a few stories you could tease him with later.

But as the night drew closer, you started actually thinking about all the people you would be around, all of whom graduated from the same medical program Zayne did. You can only imagine how smart they all are. And how you’ll get lost the moment any medical jargon comes up. 

The more you think about it, the more nerves you feel buzzing under your skin. You know you’re not the smartest, not compared to Zayne at least. He’s a genius, after all, and could probably outsmart most anyone. You’ve always been better at the physical stuff. That’s what makes you such a good pair. 

It’s not like you can impress everyone by whipping your gun out and fighting, though. All you’ll have are your words, and you’re not particularly good with those…

You blink when a large hand suddenly circles your wrist. Glancing up, you find Zayne looking down at you, brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“While I appreciate your attention to detail, I believe you’ve been straightening my tie for five minutes now.” Heat creeps up your neck. You hadn’t even realized you had been lost in thought. Zayne’s eyes narrow inquisitively.  “What are you thinking about that has your mind so preoccupied?” 

His thumb brushes casually along the inside of your wrist, not so subtly checking your pulse. A strangely endearing habit of his when he’s worried about you. You let out a long sigh and hide your face against his chest, feeling the heat bleed across your cheeks.

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re insecure about how smart all his friends must be?

Zayne doesn’t push right away. He knows you’ll explain when you want to, and if you don’t, then he knows you’re not ready to. It was an unspoken rule between you, something you started with him because you noticed he likes to think his words out. It felt natural to offer you the same when you struggle to express yourself. Like now.

Ultimately, you figure it’s better to just be straightforward. That’s how he would do it, and it’s better than dancing around the subject.

“I guess I’m nervous because I feel like I’m going to be the dumbest person in the room tonight,” you mutter against his coat. Your fingers tap out an anxious beat against his abdomen. “It’s silly and I know it shouldn’t matter, but I just don’t want to make you look bad.”

Zayne remains quiet for a long minute. Your fingers move a little quicker, matching the stuttering rhythm of your heart. His hand slides up, gently trapping them against his body.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Physical tics are a common result of anxiety,” he hums dismissively, thumb smoothing over your knuckles. “As is your rapid heart rate. This truly bothers you.”

“Of course it does,” you sigh, a bit exasperated, ”You’ve worked hard to get where you are, Zayne. I love you so much, and I respect your work more than anything. I don’t, I don’t want to say something stupid and have it reflect on you badly.”

The doctor clicks his tongue, “First, I would prefer if you stop using that language to describe yourself.”

Your heart falters when his cool fingers touch your cheek, drawing your face up to his. He looks upset, but not exactly at you, the sharp line of his jaw contrasting with the softness of his eyes. Like it pains him that you think this way. Which it does.

“Those words don’t suit you. I wouldn’t allow another to call you them, so why would I allow you to?” He asserts, the corner of his lips twitching with distaste. “I don’t want to hear them again, do you understand?”

“Okay.” A thread of warmth curls around your heart when Zayne nods approvingly. His protectiveness really knows no bounds.

“Second, I do not agree with your diagnosis.” 

Your brow furrows a little. What? What does he mean, he disagrees? He’s literally surrounded by geniuses, you can’t match up to any of them if they’re anything like him. 

Seeing you start to overthink, Zayne shakes his head and gently pinches your cheek. You jolt back a little. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making you pout.

“Meanie,” you grumble, “Fine, explain your reasoning, Doctor Zayne.”

“It’s simple. Intelligence is made up of more than just academic knowledge, which, I assume, is what you are thinking of when you make such comments.” You nod. He’s not wrong about that, you guess. “Intelligence also includes the knowledge of how to use one’s strengths to achieve the best outcome. It is true that for some, this means using academic reasoning. However, it also includes those who develop the skills and discipline to maintain their bodies and fight for those who can’t, like…”

He pauses and gives you an expectant look.

“...me,” you finish slowly.

“Yes,” he hums, stroking the redness of your cheek, “I believe, under these standards, you are far more intelligent than most of the people you will meet tonight, darling. Though there is no comparison in the first place.”

His words sink in slowly but surely, filling in the cracks of your doubt. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he probably has some kind of healing magic, because you can already feel the burden of your insecurities melting away.

Leave it to Zayne to know exactly what to say, but in the most complex sounding way.

“You always know how to make me feel better, huh?” You ask, finally cracking that smile he loves.

“I am simply telling you the truth.” Zayne leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “There is not a lifetime in which my reputation will be more important than you. I would gladly throw it all away if it meant reminding you of that.”

You snort, “Don’t do that, please. I can only imagine the fit Doctor Greyson would throw. He’d be so mad at me.”

“I can handle Doctor Greyson, in the same way I can handle everyone tonight.” He slips his fingers between yours, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. You wiggle your fingers  happily and Zayne can’t help but grin to himself. “If at any point you find yourself uncomfortable, just stay by my side and I will act as your distraction. Though, I’m sure they will all love you, just as I do.”

“...Thank you, Zayne.”

“Of course, my jasmine.”

---

Xavier

Working with Xavier is a blessing, as much as it is a curse. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. Someone who you know will always have your back, who can handle himself completely, who is probably the most talented hunter you’ve ever met in your entire life. He’s undeniably amazing.

On the flip side of that, though, you often fall into the trap of thinking about how he deserves better. Wondering if, maybe, the only reason he chose to stay with you was because of the aether core in your heart. If that’s also the reason you’re in a relationship now…

And some days, these thoughts win out over the rest. Like today.

“What’s wrong?”

You blink, eyes flickering up from the bowl of ramen in front of you. Early on, you had started a tradition of eating a meal together after a successful mission, to just enjoy the peace of your home and each other. But today, you weren’t feeling that hungry, just…tired.

Xavier tilts his head, concern furrowing his brow - he noticed your mood start to shift days before, but didn’t want to push since you didn’t seem to notice it yourself. Now, though, it’s too obvious for him to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you sigh, flicking your chopsticks back and forth to watch the noodles swirl around in the broth, a small frown capturing your lips. It’s a horribly obvious lie.

“Is it something I did?” His voice isn’t accusatory or upset. It’s just a rational question to help him figure out what’s wrong. Still, you feel guilt tug at your chest, and you set the chopsticks down with another sigh.

You don’t want him to think that. You’d never blame Xavier for something like this. That would be like asking him to be a worse person, which is stupid. It’s just you. Your problem. Dragging him into it will only make you feel worse.

“No, Xavier, you didn’t do anything, promise. I’m not upset…with you.” 

“But you are upset.”

Chancing a glance up at him proves a bad idea, making it all that more difficult to keep your thoughts quiet. Behind his normal sleepy expression, worry gleams in the deep blue of his eyes, unyielding and undeniably calm, like waves lapping gently at the beach. 

The sight makes your heart ache and the words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Do you think I’m actually a suitable partner for you?”

Surprise flickers across the hunter’s face. Of all the things he was expecting you to say, that wasn’t even on the list. He doesn’t laugh though, or take your question lightly.

“Do you mean, as a hunting partner? Or as a romantic partner?”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes falling back to your ramen, “I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

He hums softly. You try to ignore the nerves fluttering in your chest as Xavier gets up, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he circles the table to stand next to you. The hunter drips his head, catching your gaze.

“May I see your hand?”

A small frown pulls at your lips, not exactly sure where he’s going with this, but you offer him your hand anyways. Xavier takes your wrist, touch featherlight, and moves it so your hand is held up flat, facing him. Your brow furrows.

“Xav-”

“Look.” 

Pursing your lips, you let out a little huff. He really hates giving direct answers, doesn’t he? Still, you’re in no place to really judge him, or expect anything for that matter. He’s always been a bit of a mystery to you.

You watch as Xavier places his hand against yours. His palm is warm and you can feel the calluses from who knows how many years of hunting. Your hand looks tiny in comparison, his pale, delicate fingers long enough to curl over your own a little. The sight makes your heart squeeze, fondness competing with the feeling of being so…small.

“They’re pretty different,” Xavier hums, voice still calm, his own eyes fixed on your hands. “Your fingers are always cold, and your hands are small. You have a scar here.” His free hand grazes the side of your palm, along your pinky. “And here” He traces another along your knuckle. Your breath falters at the tenderness behind his touch, like you’re delicate porcelain. “Mine are in different places. Yours are skilled at weaving silk balls and mine can…open jars.”

You snort. Xavier’s eyes dart up to yours, sparkling with humor, a brow raised. You try to smother your laughter, rather ineffectively, and motion for him to continue.

“They’re different, but-” His fingers spread apart, and you mimic him instinctually, only for his fingers to slot between yours in one fluid motion. You inhale softly, laughter dying in your throat. It’s like two puzzle pieces fitting together, a perfect embrace that washes over you with a comforting warmth.

Xavier watches you, keenly aware of the way you squeeze his hand tightly, desperately, like you’re worried it might disappear. He gives yours a tender squeeze in return, thumb brushing over your knuckle.

“I think they’re a suitable match. Don’t you?”

God, how could you go without this man? The worries that have been pricking at the back of your mind all week seem to melt away. It leaves you with that warmth, the kind that only comes from Xavier, that he offers you over and over again.

You give his hand another squeeze, finally smiling, “Yah. I do…Thanks, Xavier.”

The hunter leans down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. You can feel his lips brush against your skin as he murmurs, “Let me know if you ever feel this way again, angel. I’ll be more than glad to remind you.”

“I will.”

---

This was really fun to write!!! I really hope you guys like it! There are so many freaking tags on this puppy.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Slow kissing turning into aggressively making out with JJK men

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,5k

Warnings: no sexual content but it's getting heated y'all, not proofread because I wrote that in my break lol

Notes: no one asked for this but I delivered it anyway hehe

Gojo Satoru

It’s hard to keep your mind focused when it’s him who’s sitting next to you. Him, with the cheekiest mouth you’ve ever witnessed. Him, who always picks on you whenever he gets the chance. Him, who makes it all too clear for everyone around him that he’s the strongest.

Because that’s who Satoru Gojo is. Unlike you, an average jujutsu sorcerer who just happened to slide into the same year as him.

“Satoru, stop teasing her”, Suguru mumbles to his right, gazer flickering over your obvious uncomfortable face.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s attention. Especially attention coming from someone who always bathes in the looks of others, who has no problem with standing in the spotlight constantly.

“I’m not teasing (y/n). I was just telling her that she looks great today. Is a man not allowed to voice his opinion around here?”, Satoru replies while pulling you in his arm and stroking your hair a little too harsh.

And despite the stinging fact that you are nothing compared against him, you can’t help but get excited when he enters the room, you can’t stop your heart from almost beating out of your chest when he touches you. Oh, it makes no sense that you fell for him. Especially you out of all girls around jujutsu high. How dumb to even dream of him liking you back someday when he’s surrounded by charismatic and jaw-dropping gorgeous women each and every day.

 “(y/n) doesn’t look comfortable at all, though”, Suguru comments dryly.

Your cheeks redden instantly when both their gazes hit you with full force, eyeing you up and down until you see stars. It really shouldn’t make you this nervous to be around both of them. Why is it so damn hard for you to be the center of attention for a brief second?

“Get going Suguru, I have a mission for you. What are you doing there with (y/n)? I told you over and over again to leave that poor girl alone, dumbass.”

May the ground swallow you whole. Why is your teacher suddenly appearing as well? And most importantly: If he takes Suguru with him, does that mean…?

“I-I…should get going as well!”, you stutter while jumping up so urgently that a wave of nausea hits you.

Maybe it’s nothing but coincidence but somehow, you managed to never be alone with Satoru in a room. He must be weirded out by you already, there is absolutely no reason to risk him getting freaked out by your strange behavior around others.

“Why in such a hurry, (y/n)? Only Suguru has to go on a mission. Both of us are free today”, Satoru purrs next to you.

When his hand grabs yours and pulls you back down into your seat, there is no chance to escape. You stare blankly at your feet, sweaty palms now digging into your thighs. Without Suguru, you’re on your own. No distraction, no possibility to escape his stinging gaze and attention.

You should be excited about finally getting some time alone with your crush. After all, you laid your eyes on him even before joining jujutsu high. Being the daughter of a wealthy and usual mighty jujutsu sorcerer family meant always staying in contact with the family who inherited the honored one. When you were little, you enjoyed Satoru’s company because he never asked too much questions about you and always seemed unbothered by the stinging fact that you are weak. And surprisingly, his interest in you never wavered until this day.

You, on the other hand…

“You look like you’re sharing the room with a special grade curse. It’s just me, your best friend, the one and only Gojo Satoru! Why so nervous, (y/n)?”

Since you started to develop feelings for him like the dumbass you are, everything changed. Just the sheer thought of sharing a room with him alone sends shivers down your spine, feeling his gaze sticking onto you forces you to get all nervous and to act like an idiot.

You really are one hopeless loser.

“Actually, I’ve been waiting quite some time to finally catch you alone again. It seems like you’re avoiding that like the plague.”

Because you do. Being alone with him means risking that you’ll act all weird and maybe freaking him out forever. Even though you’ll never be with him, you don’t want to lose the connection you have with Satoru. No, you’d rather love him from afar than risking it all.

“Really?”, you mumble while staring blanky at your sweaty hands.

“We’ve been friends for so long.”

He slides closer, forces your heart to skip a beat.

“Right.”

“But two or three years ago, you started avoiding me and I wondered why.”

You swallow hard, eyes widen in sheer horror. “Right.”

“Until I realized.”

Your eyes drift towards his, meet the bright blue ocean of his uncovered orbs. Did he find out? No way, you always made sure to never let anyone know, to keep your feelings to yourself. How would he even get the idea that-

“You love me, right?”

Time stands still, you don’t dare to move a single inch. He knows. Gojo Satoru knows. But how? When? You are physically unable to ask him any of those questions. Instead, you sit next to him like his prey in desperate hope that he’ll lose interest in you if you don’t move.

“You love me, right?”

His piercing look almost kills you from the inside. No, you can’t escape him. There is no way you’ll get out of this room without answering him.

“Right”, you whimper.

“Oh thank god.”

You don’t have any time to react. Before you even realize what happens, he pulls you in and kisses you. Slowly, tenderly, soft and sweet.

Satoru Gojo.

He…kisses you?

For a second, you forget how to exist. This has to be a dream you never dared to allow, so far away from reality that you’d shake your head over the sheer thought. But the way he wraps his arm around your waist and places his hand in your nape is oh too real.

No, this isn’t a dream. Satoru is kissing you at this very moment.

“I had my eyes on you for what feels like forever. But when you stopped meeting me alone and avoiding me, I thought that I might have done something to upset you until I realized that you actually feel the same way”, he mumbles against your lips.

You can’t answer. Instead, you allow your shaky hands to rest against his broad chest. Oh, he feels just as good as you secretly imagined, his intoxicating smell tingling in your nose and making your senses go crazy.

Your lips start moving cautiously against his. In your whole life, you were never kissed, there was never a boy besides Satoru who caught your interest. And now it’s him. It’s really him who moves in synch with you, who places soft kisses against your desperate lips.

So desperate. You grab the fabric of the uniform tighter, make sure that he doesn’t escape. When you get used to the feeling of this sensation, your mouth starts moving faster on its own. You close your eyes, give in to the feeling that starts growing louder and louder inside your burning chest. All those years, you refused to even think about him. All those years, you buried your feelings six feet under. But now everything comes back to the surface. Now it seems like the control over your mind and body slips out of your fingers in the most delicate way.

Out of instinct, you grab his neck and pull him even closer. Your mouths collapse with each other over and over again, so heated that you fail to breathe. You slide onto his lap, allow your tongue to intertwine with his. Oh, you never expected this to feel so good, you never knew you were capable of feeling such a sensation.

When Satoru whimpers inside your mouth, you threaten to lose yourself completely. His hands roam around your body without an aim while you hold onto his strong arms for dear life. Unforgivingly, without any mercy, your lips crash into each other until you see stars.

“Fuck”, he breathes out.

Satoru is the first who gives up and releases his puffy lips from yours. Panting heavy, both of you stare at each other. Did this really happen? Did you really make out with Gojo Satoru like that? You, out of all people? Sheer embarrassment rushes over you like a wave. Out of instinct, you try to cover your face with your hands, to escape his strong gaze.

“No, don’t you ever hide yourself from me. Not after what we’ve just done. You are…absolutely gorgeous”, he murmurs.

“And I think I need to do that again.”

Sukuna

Your skin burns in sheer sensation where his fingertips tease you, his lips moving against your mouth oh too sweet.

What a coincidence that you met Ryomen Sukuna here at Shibuya. What a coincidence you’re now sitting on top of him while his mouth roams around yours so innocently. Soft kisses with Sukuna are something you never imagined the king of curses to enjoy. No, you imagined him rough in every minor aspect of his life, especially when it comes to his lover. Well, apparently that isn’t true. Right now, his lips brush over yours as if you’re porcelain that’s about to break, as if you are the most precious thing to ever exist.

“I don’t have that much time for you”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

“Why not?”, you pout while outlining his strong arms with your fingers.

Oh so gently, he starts placing soft kisses onto your cheek, your forehead, your ear. So tenderly that it feels like a soft breeze of warm air caressing you, so utterly peaceful that you’d never believe that this is actually him.  

“I have something to do here. Who knows when I’m able to gain control over that brat again.”

His low voice vibrates through your whole body. Truth is, you missed your lover way too much to let go of him now. You haven’t seen each other for what feels like forever. Each and every night, you craved his touch, waited for the perfect opportunity to get him back. There is no way in hell you’ll let him go like that now after sharing only a few warm kisses.

You don’t give him an answer. Instead, you let your hips fall onto his provocatively, keeping his head in place while your tongue begins a play you know all too well.

Because even though the king of courses has an unexpected weak spot for slow and sweet kisses, you know exactly what drives him over the edge, what he needs to lose his mind to your mouth.

Your lips crash against his without any mercy, tongue teasing him so violently that a moan escapes the usual so composed man. A curse who never even thought about love and affection, a man destined to kill each and everyone who stands in his way.

Except you. Somehow you managed to light a fire inside him that cannot be put out without your help. Or better, your kisses.

“I missed you”, you purr between two passionate kisses.

“So so much.”

Automatically, he pulls you even closer, allows his muscular frame to collide with yours. Ryomen Sukuna melts like butter in your hands.

And you love it.

“What are you doing to me”, he mutters into your mouth.

“You want me to leave?”

You part your lips from his ever so slightly. One innocent movement, just the sheer thought of pulling away from him with an outcome you know so well.

In an instant, you feel Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you even tighter while his tongue teases you until you can’t breathe anymore.

“Who said you’re allowed to leave?”, he grumbles.

“Stay right here”, he hisses while shoving his tongue into your mouth again.

His hands grab your face when he suddenly starts slowing down his movements again.

“Please”, he adds along with a soft kiss on your forehead.

Toji Fushiguro

You are screwed. Completely fucked, lost, in big trouble.

And the man who’s responsible for all that mess is grinning right into your face.

To be honest, you heard rumors about him. A man who isn’t able to produce cursed energy, who is so unbelievably strong despite it. A bounty hunter who kills jujutsu sorcerers when it’s decently paid, nothing but a troublemaker.

And hot. God, just the way he smirks at you makes your knees go weak-

Focus, this is goddamn serious.

“Would you mind removing that blade from my friend?”, you question dryly.

Now is not the time to thirst over someone who just pierced through your comrade. Well, the honored one, to be exact.

“Why? He’s your boyfriend?”, the man bites back with his sensual low voice.

“Hell no”, you reply a little too quick and disgusted.

“But I still care about him enough to ask you this.”

The unknown force of a man tilts his head before pulling the blade out of Gojo.

“I don’t need your help, (y/n).”

“You sure about that? Let me take over.”

“You? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Gojo’s stupid comment makes your blood boil almost instantly. Who does this guy even think he is? Just because he was lucky enough to get born with immense powers doesn’t mean you aren’t a decent jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Apart from the stinging fact that you are a woman.

And you’re definitely able to feel the stranger’s eyes all over you.

“Are you hard of hearing? Get lost and make sure Riko arrives at Tengen-sama’s safe”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“And missing all the fun and fighting? Hell no.”

“Being alone with ya actually doesn’t sound bad”, the stranger replies with a smirk.

“What the hell would you want from her?”

“Seems like your dumb blue eyes aren’t useful after all, brat.”

Oh, how much you try to stop yourself from grinning ear to ear like an idiot and your cheeks to blush.

“Was that a compliment?”

It doesn’t matter, though. You can’t fuck this mission up. Something about his appearance tells you more than urgently that if that man gets close to Riko…

You have to prevent this. No matter what it costs.

“Depends. Did it work?”, the stranger replies.

Fuck, you hate the way your heart almost beats out of your chest. Or…do you?

“Who knows”, you purr.

His eyes all over you, take in your appearance with so much force that you feel like fainting for a second. Is that man flirting with you?

“I’m the one you’re fighting against.”

“I’m not interested in a spoiled brat like you. Get lost.”

He makes it look so easy. Grabbing Gojo by the throat mid-air, slamming his body into multiple nearby buildings. All of this without a single spark of cursed energy. All of this only by the sheer force of his muscular arms. Fuck, those forearms…

“So, watcha say, princess? Are ya in for chilling together?”

You feel like dying and flying at the same time. That fucking man was able to send Gojo straight to heaven with one arm. There is no doubt in the fact that he’d be able to kill you without you even noticing a single thing.

You bite your lip when your eyes start wandering around his toned torso and tight black shirt. But isn’t it your mission to do everything possible in order to keep Riko save? Especially when it means getting physical with a man like him. His eyes tell you that you need to keep him entertained if you stick to your plan. What could a girl like you possibly offer a guy like him?

“Depends on your definition of chilling. I’m not staying here for nothing.”

This is a dangerous game. One wrong movement, one unwise word and you’re dead without even Gojo being able to protect you.

“First tell me what’s yours. Any hidden talents apart from that whole jujutsu stuff?”

He roams around you like a hunter around its prey, eyes getting darker and darker each time they meet your gaze. Oh, this question definitely points to places you’ve never been before, so dirty and rough that you never allowed your thoughts to travel there.

“Maybe we need to find out”, you hum.

Your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. Like in trance, you give the unknown man in front of you dirty looks. This is for the mission exclusively.

Right?

“I know you’re trying to distract me. But fuck that and have some fine before I kill that brat.”

You force yourself to breathe out slowly and controlled. Of course, he wouldn’t fall for that. Someone who’s here to kill the plasma vessel and managed to slice through Gojo like through butter isn’t someone to be messed with.

Like in slow motion, you watch as he draws closer. He builds himself up in front of you with his shadow hanging over you threatful.

But those lips. Those oh so kissable lips paired with that handsome face of his.

“Scared?”, he mutters while mocking down at you.

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. Before you’re able to convince yourself otherwise, you press your lips against his.

Almost instantly, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer. But apart from the rough kiss you expected, his lips caress yours in the softest way possible. Gently, he holds onto your face while embracing you in a way you’ve never felt before.

Fuck, why does this have to be so good? Why was everything you expected from that man a steamy make-out session?

Your knees threaten so fail you when every minor movement of his mouth sends shivers down your spine. This shouldn’t feel so good, you shouldn’t melt like butter in his rough hands.

But you can’t help it.

“You definitely taste good”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

Your cheeks heat up in an instant. If someone would have told you you’d end up making out with a hot stranger to stop him from killing Riko and Gojo today, you would have called them insane.

And yet, here you are. Getting showered in soft kisses and held in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Gimme more, princess.”

Slowly but surely, the urge to feel him even closer, better, faster becomes unbearable. You grab him by his hair and pull him down while your mouth picks up the pace on its own. This isn’t enough. You need to feel him better than this.

“Fuck.”

A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, hands wandering around his body without an aim. Oh, your lips never swelled up like that, never burned in such a sensation before. Fuck slow-kissing, fuck holding yourself back. Why would you ditch that opportunity when it’s clear that he wants you as well?

The stranger’s arms wrapped themselves around you tightly, leave you no room to escape. Over and over, your lips collide with each other until you feel dizzy.

“Sorry for interrupting your little make out session, but are you out of your fucking mind, (y/n)?”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You know that voice all too well.

“Huh, should have killed you right on the spot”, the stranger remarks with his dark eyes still set on you.

“What a waste of time. Wait for me here, princess. I’ll be back when I killed that brat and the vessel.”

He lets go of you as sudden as he grabbed you, leaves your body aching for his touch and your mind racing back and forth.

“You can’t kill them!”, you shout after him.

“And I don’t even know your name.”

“The name’s Toji Fushiguro, princess.”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

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@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa

[pucksandpower]

MILF

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: Toto knows his wife is a MILF … but this doesn’t mean he is okay with his son’s friends calling you that

Warnings: teenage boys doing teenage boy things

Based on this request

“Pass the schnitzel, darling,” you say to your husband as the three of you sit down for dinner. Your teenage son has just gotten home from school, and you can’t wait to hear about his day.

Toto smiles at you as he passes the platter of breaded veal. “How was school?” He asks.

Lukas shrugs as he takes a bite. “It was okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

You give him a look. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie,” you gently chide. Even though he’s almost an adult now, you still see your little boy in him.

Lukas swallows and straightens up. “Sorry, Mum.”

“So tell us about your day,” you prompt. “Learn anything new and interesting?”

Your son fidgets in his seat. “Well … some of the guys were talking about you today.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Me? What about me?”

Lukas glances uncomfortably at his father. “Just … stuff they saw online. Paparazzi photos from when we were on the yacht last month.”

Toto sets his fork down, his expression darkening. He’s no stranger to being in the public eye, but he’s always been protective of you and Lukas. “What exactly were they saying?” He asks in a carefully neutral tone.

“They, uh …” Lukas rubs the back of his neck. “They called Mom a MILF.”

“A what?” Toto sputters, while you have to suppress a laugh. You’re familiar with the crude term, given your substantially younger age compared to your husband.

“It’s not funny!” Toto says indignantly. “I won’t have people objectifying my wife like that.”

You reach over and pat his arm. “It’s okay, dear. I’m not bothered by it.” You turn back to Lukas with an amused smile. “I’m flattered those boys think your old mom’s still got it.”

“You’re not old!” Lukas protests loyally. “It’s just, you know, you’re a lot younger than Vati, and you’re really pretty, so the guys notice.”

Toto scowls, but you grin and blow your son a kiss. “Thanks, sweetie.” Your playful reaction seems to visibly relax him.

“This is unacceptable,” Toto shakes his head. “I should call the school. Get those little punks suspended for sexual harassment.”

“Oh Toto, don’t be silly,” you wave dismissively. “They’re just teenage boys. I’m sure they didn’t mean any harm.”

“It doesn’t matter!” He insists. “Your dignity and privacy should be respected, not exploited. People think because we’re in the spotlight that they can say whatever vulgar nonsense they want.”

You reach over again and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I know it bothers you, darling. But I married you knowing full well how public our lives would be. A little crude gossip comes with the territory.”

Toto opens his mouth to retort, then pauses, some of the indignation leaving his eyes. “I just don’t want anyone disrespecting you,” he says finally.

You smile softly. Even after all these years of marriage, your heart still flutters at his protectiveness. “I know. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

Lukas makes a face. “Ugh, gross. Can you guys not be all mushy right now?”

You laugh and blow him another kiss. “Sorry Lukas. I can’t help it — your father’s the love of my life.”

Toto smiles back at you, the anger fading from his face. “And you’re mine, schatzi.”

Your son pretends to gag. “Seriously, stop. I’m trying to eat here.”

You chuckle and spear another bite of schnitzel. “Alright, we’ll behave. Now, tell me more about the rest of your day ...”

The conversation moves on to lighter topics as you finish up dinner. You listen attentively while Lukas fills you in on the drama with his friend group and his struggles in history class.

After clearing the dishes, the three of you move to the living room. You curl up next to Toto on the couch while Lukas sprawls out on the carpet to play video games.

You close your eyes contentedly and rest your head on your husband’s shoulder. Despite the lifestyle that being married to Toto provides you with, this right here is your happy place — your little family, spending a quiet evening at home.

Toto wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Have I told you lately how lucky I am?” He murmurs.

You smile up at him. “Even after all these years, you still give me butterflies.”

“Good,” he says firmly. “I’ll tell you every day if I have to, until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Lukas groans loudly from the floor. “Could you guys be any more embarrassing?”

You and Toto both laugh. “What? I can’t tell my beautiful wife how much I love her?” He calls out in protest.

“Not when I’m right here!” Lukas complains. “Get a room or something.”

You grin mischievously. “That’s not a bad idea ...” you say, running a hand up your husband’s chest.

Toto’s eyes darken. “Minx,” he murmurs.

Lukas scrambles to his feet. “Okay, I’m out of here.” He gives you both a look of exaggerated disgust as he heads upstairs.

You and Toto chuckle as you listen to his bedroom door slam shut.

“Now, where were we?” Toto says in a low voice, pulling you closer. You bite your lip coyly as he presses his mouth to yours. No matter how many years go by, the chemistry between you is still electric.

You shift against him eagerly as the kiss deepens. His hands slide down to grip your hips, and you make a soft noise of pleasure. After nearly two decades of marriage, he knows exactly how to touch you.

“Tell me again,” you whisper when you finally break apart, slightly breathless.

Toto gazes into your eyes. “I love you,” he says sincerely. “I will always love you. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You kiss him again, tenderly this time. “I love you too, Toto. Forever.”

No matter what people say or how famous you become, your relationship has always been grounded in this — the unwavering love between you. The rest of the world falls away when you’re together.

You rest your head contentedly on his shoulder again, his arms wrapped around you. This right here, next to the man who still looks at you like you hung the moon, is home.

***

The next day after school, Lukas comes home with a few of his friends in tow. You’re just finishing up putting away the groceries when you hear the chatter of teenage voices approaching.

“Hey Mum, we’re gonna hang out downstairs,” Lukas calls out as the group of boys raids the kitchen fridge for snacks.

You smile and give them a little wave. “Hi boys. There’s more drinks in the pantry if you need it.”

The teenagers rumble acknowledgements through mouthfuls of food before thundering downstairs to your home theater room. You chuckle and shake your head. Teenage appetites are truly a phenomenon.

You’re straightening up the living room when you hear the front door open again, signaling Toto’s return from work.

“Hello, liebling,” he greets you warmly, sweeping you into an embrace.

You kiss him in welcome. “How was work today?”

“The usual madness,” he sighs. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

You smile up at him adoringly. Even after all these years, your heart still flutters at his smooth compliments.

“Oh, Lukas has some friends over,” you mention. “They’re downstairs watching movies or playing video games.”

Toto frowns a little. “Those wouldn’t happen to be the same friends who were objectifying you?”

You pat his chest placatingly. “Now dear, we talked about this. Don’t make a fuss.”

“Hmph.” He still looks slightly disgruntled. “Well, I should at least go down and say hello.”

You follow him downstairs, where the group of teenage boys are sprawled out on the sofas engrossed in some action movie. Explosions boom from the surround sound system as CGI buildings crumble onscreen.

They look up when you and Toto enter. “Oh hey Mr. Wolff,” one of them says.

“Vati, you remember my friends right?” Lukas introduces. “Jason, Andrew, Ryan, and David.”

“Ah yes, nice to see you boys again,” Toto says smoothly.

Too smoothly.

You can sense the storm brewing beneath his polite façade.

Sure enough, as the teens’ attention returns to the movie, Toto clears his throat. “So I heard you boys were discussing my wife the other day.”

The room goes silent, save for the cinematic explosions still blaring through the speakers. The boys glance around uneasily.

“Um, we didn’t mean anything bad by it,” David finally offers timidly.

Toto raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So objectifying and sexualizing a married woman is not meant to be disrespectful?”

The teens squirm under his icy stare. You put a warning hand on your husband’s arm, but he continues.

“Let me tell you something about my wife,” he says, an edge creeping into his tone. “She is an elegant, successful, and highly intelligent woman. Not some piece of meat for you ogling schoolboys to drool over.”

The chastised boys all mumble apologies and stare fixedly at the floor.

Toto points a stern finger at them. “I trust there will be no further vulgar comments, or you won’t be welcome in this house again.”

“Yes sir,” they mutter. Lukas looks like he wants the leather couch to swallow him whole. You have to stifle a smile at your husband’s overprotective papa bear routine.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” Toto straightens his suit jacket. “Now you boys enjoy your … movie.”

He turns and heads back upstairs, with you following after an apologetic smile to the shell-shocked teens.

Once you’re out of earshot, you swat his shoulder reproachfully. “Toto! Did you really need to traumatize the poor kids?”

“I didn’t traumatize them,” he huffs. “I just … explained a few things.” At your skeptical look, he amends “ … Firmly.”

You shake your head in exasperation. “You’re impossible. I thought I asked you not to make a fuss.”

He takes your hands earnestly. “I’m sorry, schatzi. I just can’t stand anyone disrespecting you. You deserve to be treated like a queen.”

You soften at the sincerity in his eyes. “Oh Toto. You’re too good to me.” You wrap your arms around him in a conciliatory hug.

He holds you close. “Nonsense. I’ll spend every day proving you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

You snuggle against his chest, reminded yet again how lucky you are. Even when he overreacts, you know it comes from a place of devotion.

“Just promise me you’ll go easy on the boys,” you say wryly as you pull back. “I think you scared them straight for life.”

Toto smiles ruefully. “I suppose I did get a bit … intense. But the message won’t do any harm.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “My noble protector.”

He grins. “Proudly.”

Later, as the boys are getting ready to leave, Toto stops them at the front door.

“Before you go, I have one more thing to say,” he announces. The teens glance at each other nervously.

Toto looks each of them in the eye. “If I ever hear of you disrespecting my wife again, I won’t be so kind. You see, she’s actually a MIDF … Mother I Do Fuck.” He enunciates the words pointedly.

The teens’ eyes widen in horror, and Lukas turns bright red. “Vati!” He hisses in embarrassment.

Toto ignores him. “So I would appreciate it if you kept your crude comments to yourselves next time.” He gives them a tight smile. “Are we clear?”

The boys nod rapidly. “Yes sir. Crystal clear, Mr. Wolff,” one mumbles.

“Good.” Toto claps his hands together. “Then get home safely.”

After the front door shuts behind the fleeing teens, Lukas rounds on his father. “Oh my god, Vati! Why would you say that?”

He shrugs unapologetically. “I wanted to make sure they got the message loud and clear this time.”

Lukas just shakes his head in mortification before stomping upstairs.

You slide your arms around your unrepentant husband. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“They left with a healthy dose of fear and respect,” Toto says smugly. “I think my work here is done.”

[fear-is-truth]

⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — nicholas a. chavez

𝓣ags ; actress!reader . not proofread . wc 1.4k

requested by — @chaimilkshake

꒰ after your breakout role, teen vogue invites you and your future co-star for an interview ꒱ؘ.

The set of Teen Vogue’s interview was bathed in blinding, fluorescent light, illuminating the sleek, modern chairs arranged under the cameras. Your fingers tapped anxiously against your thigh as you sat in one of them, trying to keep your nerves in check. This wasn’t just any interview—it was your first big one, and you could feel the weight of the attention on your shoulders.

You glanced across the room at Nicholas Alexander Chavez, who was seated in the chair next to you. He’s the rising star everyone’s been talking about since Ryan Murphy’s new docuseries blew up, where he played Lyle Menendez. The two of you were often compared, given your similar roles. In the film, you played Sandra Anderson, one of the infamous “bathtub sisters”—two teenage girls who orchestrated their mother’s murder, a case that horrified the nation. It was your first big role, and while the story itself was dark and intense, the critics had been praising your performance alongside your co-star’s. You’d both been dubbed the “female counterparts” to Nicholas and Cooper Koch, and while that comparison was flattering, it always felt a little surreal to you.

You had only ever done tv commercials before Bathtub Sisters. At 19, you were new to all of this, while Nicholas, at 25, was experienced, confident, and already beloved. And now you were about to share the spotlight with him, after the two of you had been cast as romantic leads in a new rom-com—a pairing that had already broken the internet—people were dying to see more of you together.

Yeah, no pressure.

“Alright, you two ready?” the interviewer — Maggie’s voice calls out from off-camera. You take a deep breath and nod, forcing a small smile. Nicholas glances at you, catching your eye, and offers an easy smile of his own. It helps ease your nerves a little.

“Welcome back, everyone! Today, we’re sitting down with two of Hollywood’s newest stars—Nicholas Chavez and Y/N, who recently broke the internet after being cast together in an upcoming rom-com. You might recognize them from their past roles as Lyle Menendez and Sandra Anderson. Welcome, you two!”

“Thanks for having us, I’m Nicholas Chavez,” Nicholas says smoothly, flashing a smile in your direction. You nod and wave shyly at the camera. “And I’m Y/N L/N.”

“So, this new rom-com,” Maggie begins, “How did it feel to hear that you were cast together? People have been calling you two the ‘next big thing’ after how viral the announcement went.”

Nicholas chuckled, glancing at you for a split second too long. “Honestly, I didn’t expect that kind of reaction. But I can’t complain—it’s been cool seeing people get excited. And, y’know, it’s pretty exciting to be going to work with Y/N. I’m really looking forward to it.”

You try to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck at his compliment. Stay cool, you tell yourself. “Yeah, it’s been…pretty surreal. I mean, this is only my second project, so to be thrown into something so big, it’s wild. But my friends and family have been really supportive.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” she gushes. “You two seem to have good chemistry, even off-screen. I can tell.” You shift in your seat, hoping your nervousness wasn’t too obvious.

“So, you both came from playing in darker, heavier roles—the Menendez brothers, Bathtub Sisters—and now you’re starring in a romantic comedy together. That’s quite the shift! How’s it been adjusting to such a different genre?”

“It’s been fun,” Nicholas replies. “I mean, the last project I worked on was pretty intense, and the same goes for Y/N. Jumping into something lighthearted was a nice change of pace. Plus, rom-coms? You can’t beat that.”

You nod in agreement, trying not to blink too much under the lights. “Yeah, definitely. My first film was so dark, and this…it feels like a breath of fresh air.”

“And how about the fan reaction? It’s not every day a casting announcement gets that much attention. People are already shipping you two.”

You feel your face flush at the mention. “I’ve seen some of it,” mentally reminding yourself never to google your own name again. “It’s kind of crazy how fast things blow up.”

“Yeah, it’s wild. People really get invested in this stuff. But hey, it’s cool seeing how excited they are about the movie.” Nicholas agrees.

“So, you guys have been compared quite a bit—being cast in true crime roles, playing siblings in intense, high-profile cases. How do you feel about that?”

Nicholas turns his head to look at you; silently waiting for you to answer first. When you smile back awkwardly, he speaks up. “I think it’s pretty cool. I mean, both cases are so infamous, and it’s wild how much people gravitate toward these kinds of stories.” He pauses, turning his head toward you again.

“But you guys really knocked it out of the park with Bathtub Sisters—I was blown away.”

Surprised by the sudden compliment, you blink, trying not to let it show how flustered you felt. “Thanks, that really means a lot. I watched Monsters too, and your portrayal of Lyle Menendez was just…” you pause, searching for the right words “…insane.”

“How do you handle that kind of pressure, especially you—” the interviewer nods toward you, “since you’re still pretty new to the industry?”

You shift a little in your seat, brushing a hand through your hair. “Uh, it’s pretty overwhelming at times, but it feels like a dream — getting compared to phenomenal actors like Nicholas and Cooper is a huge honour.”

Nicholas chuckles, leaning back slightly. “Hey, don’t give me too much credit. You’re killing it girl — I wasn’t anywhere near where you are when I started.”

His easy confidence makes you relax, and the interview continues smoothly, covering your upcoming rom-com and what fans can expect. Every so often, Nicholas gives you a reassuring smile, helping to settle your nerves

As the interview wraps up and the crew begins packing, the both of you are waiting for your cars outside the studio. The air is cooler now, with evening settling in, and you fidget with the sleeve of your jacket, still feeling a bit starstruck.

“You did great in there,” Nicholas says suddenly, breaking the silence. You turn toward him, genuinely surprised.

“You think so? I felt like I was rambling half the time.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No way. You were cute and genuine—people love that.”

A smile creeps onto your face, and you feel a little more relaxed around him.

“T-thanks.”

Nicholas’s phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances at it quickly before slipping it back into his pocket.

“Hey, I know we’ve only just started working together, but… do you wanna grab coffee sometime? No cameras, no interviews, just hang out.”

You blink, caught off guard. He’s Nicholas Alexander Chavez. He could be hanging out with anyone, and yet, here he is asking you. Your heart does a little flip.

“Yeah, I’d like that,”

“Sweet,” he says, pulling out his phone and handing it to you. His fingers brush yours briefly, and the small touch sends a rush of warmth through you. You quickly type in your number, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heat up.

He takes the phone back, flashing a smile. “I’ll text you. Promise it won’t be one of those crazy-ass 3 a.m. texts.”

You laugh, feeling your nerves start to fade completely. “Good to know. I’d hate to have to block you.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Block me? Ouch. That’s cold.”

“Boundaries, right?”

“Fair enough.”

As Nicholas heads toward his waiting car, he turns back just before getting in. “Oh, and just so you know,” he calls out with a teasing grin, “I might text you at 2:59 a.m. Just to see if you’ll actually block me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Hey, I live dangerously,” he replies with a wink before sliding into the car.

As he walks away toward his waiting car, you stand there for a second, feeling a little dazed. The whole day had been a whirlwind, and now it seemed like something even crazier was about to begin. Nicholas turns back just before getting into the car, offering one last wave before he disappears into the backseat.

Maybe Nicholas and you were going to be the next big thing—but off-screen.

MLIST

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[pedroscurls]

Hugh x reader actress. Both live their relationship out of the spotlight, trying to keep it professional every time they're at some Hollywood event in front of the camera, but Hugh can't stop eyeing his girl in a tight dress during the party organized for the success of his latest movie.

mesmerized from afar (one-shot)

summary: despite your relationship with hugh being out in the open, you both still do your best to keep it professional in the public eye... until hugh makes it very obvious during a hollywood event. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warnings: fluff, teasing, sexual tension, hugh can't keep his eyes (and hands) off of you, no use of y/n word count: 2.2k a/n: to the anon who sent this request in, i also am sorry it took me so long to write this!!! i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it bc i love this dynamic of hugh not being able to contain himself during an event. as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

“I’ll see you at the red carpet?” Hugh asks from over the phone. You had just landed in New York and figured it’d be best to just get ready at your place instead of meeting him at his. You know that you’re going to be about half an hour late, but you don’t have to be there on time. The event was for Deadpool & Wolverine, a party to celebrate the success of the movie. 

“Yeah, baby. I just got to my place. I’ll be there.” 

“Okay, honey. Pack a bag, yeah?” 

You bite your lower lip and smile, already having had a packed duffle bag to bring with you. “Yes, Hugh,” you laugh quietly. “We did already discuss that I’d be spending the weekend with you.”

“Good, good,” he replies. “Missed you a lot.” 

“Me too, baby,” you say softly. “Can’t wait to just spend time with you.” 

Hugh sighs from the other end. “Alright, baby. I’ll let you go and get ready. I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Hugh,” you smile. Hearing those words from him will never get old and despite being in a relationship with him for over a year now, you both like to keep your relationship as private as you both can. It isn’t a secret that you’re together, but you both had talked about keeping things professional in the public eye. Though, neither of you can escape the paparazzi pictures of the photographs that fans have taken of you when you’re both out and about in the city with each other. 

You also rarely go to events together, never arriving at the same time and never walking the red carpet side by side. You both have done a good job at keeping things away from the public eye, only giving them a glimpse into your relationship with pictures posted on your social media. It helps strengthen your relationship with Hugh, not revealing so much to the media and keeping the most intimate aspects of your relationship amongst one another. 

You’re still relatively new in the industry, having had your big break in a film that won you best actress a few years ago. You’re lucky enough to have Hugh and even Ryan and Blake to guide you in this new world that you still haven’t gotten used to. 

You see a text message from Blake, smiling to yourself when she said that she was going to come over to help you get ready. It isn’t a secret that you still aren’t familiar with the formality of these events because you still pay for your own dresses and still do your own hair and makeup. You’ve received a lot of messages from designers who would like for you to wear their dresses, but it just never felt like you. You were simple. Always have been, always will. 

So instead of agreeing and accepting Blake’s offer, you send her a quick text to let her know that you’re almost finished getting ready. It’s mainly a lie– you haven’t even showered yet, but you at least have your dress laid out on your bed. 

You have two hours to get to the event, so you send a quick text to let Hugh know that you can’t wait to see him. His reply comes almost instantly, sending you a simple heart emoji. 

—

An hour and a half later, you’re standing in front of your full body mirror with a satisfied expression on your face. You’re wearing a full length, navy blue dress with spaghetti straps resting on your shoulders, trailing into a tailored silhouette where the fabric clings to every curve. You bite your lower lip, the sweetheart neckline and empire waist fitting so well with your frame. You turn slightly, looking over your shoulder to see the deep v-open styled back with a high slit on the left side of the dress, revealing your exposed thigh as the bottom of the dress sculpts into a mermaid skirt. It’s elegant, yet sexy. 

Your makeup remains light, neutral with your hair in loose waves and pinned back away from your face. Grabbing your bag, you hear your phone go off to let you know that your driver is waiting downstairs to take you to the event. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. Red carpet events still make you anxious, the flashes of the camera, talking with reporters – all of it was still another aspect of this new life that you hadn’t gotten used to yet. The fans, however, you feel more at home and at ease with them, always taking the time to speak with each other and provide your full undivided attention to them. 

You climb into the backseat of the car, immediately making conversation with the driver as you send a text to Hugh that you’re on your way. Fifteen minutes later and you feel the car stop at the end of the red carpet. You can hear the screams, can hear your name being called from outside and when you step out, you take a deep breath and put on a smile despite the nerves you feel in the pit of your stomach. 

Your publicist leads you to the carpet, motioning for you to stand on the first mark as you pose for the cameras, waving to the fans that scream your name with excitement. You turn your head and immediately meet eyes with Hugh, who’s standing very far from you as he’s speaking with a reporter. 

You walk to each marker, taking the time to pose for the photographers. You want so badly to run up to Hugh, to be pulled into his arms, but you refrain from doing so. You try to remind yourself that you need to remain professional, but you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you. Even while he’s talking with the reporters, his eyes never leave you. 

The moment Hugh heard your name being called, his attention was pulled from the person he was speaking to. He glanced over at the end of the red carpet, his breath being taken away once you stepped out. Hugh clears his throat at the sight of you, the dress that clings to perfectly to each curve that he’s so familiar with, and your smile that makes his heart race even faster. There’s a kindness behind your eyes that he had fallen in love with and despite knowing that this – red carpet events – aren’t something you’re too keen on, you still display such grace and elegance. 

He feels a hand clasp his shoulder and Hugh has to tear his eyes away from you to look over to see Ryan standing next to him, apologizing to the woman with the microphone. 

“I’m so sorry for my friend here,” Ryan grins, eyes glancing over in your direction. “He just gets so distracted.” 

“Well, can you blame me?” Hugh chuckles, pointing at you. “I mean, look at her. She looks amazing.” 

The woman nods in agreement and then looks over at Hugh and Ryan. “The fans want to know, Hugh,” she begins. “How come you both never come to these things together? We know you’re both in a relationship, so…”

“Ah,” Hugh smiles. “The million dollar question.” 

“Well, let’s keep that a secret,” Ryan interjects. “Now, if you’d excuse us…”

Ryan takes Hugh away from the line of reporters to meet with you as you get closer. You smile up at Ryan, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug. 

“You look beautiful,” Ryan says. “Blake told me she was going to help you get ready.”

“Yeah, well you know me…” you smile. 

Hugh gently reaches out to take your hand, his eyes sparkling in your direction. “You look–” he lets out a breath. “My god, baby.” 

“You like the blue?” you lean in and peck his lips lightly, hearing your name and Hugh’s being called repeatedly. 

“Oh, I love it.” 

“Okay, and now I’m gonna go and find my girl,” Ryan says, leaving the both of you. 

“You look so handsome,” you tell Hugh, hands coming up to gently straighten out his bowtie.

“Me? Look at you, baby.” Hugh grins, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. Every thought and conversation he’s had with you to keep things professional leaves his mind. He can’t get enough of you, can’t take his eyes off of you. 

“You’re being very… showy,” you giggle, hand moving up to rest on his chest as the other comes up to wrap around his shoulders. “You do realize that we’re out in public.”

“Don’t matter to me,” Hugh smiles. “You look breathtaking, baby.” 

“It isn’t too much?” you ask. 

“I think it’s not enough,” Hugh answers. “And the slit on your leg,” he growls. “You’re just teasing me at this point, baby.” 

“What?” you blush. 

“I mean, I love this dress. I do, but–” Hugh shuts his eyes and leans in to whisper quietly into your ear. “I just want to rip it off of you the minute we get back home.” 

You clear your throat and gently grip at the lapel of his suit jacket, feeling the anticipation and throbbing between your legs. “You can’t go around saying things like that when we have this party to attend the entire night.”

Hugh chuckles and pulls back enough to rest his forehead against yours. He can hear the photographers calling his name, can hear the sounds of the cameras going off, and he leans forward and presses his lips firmly against yours. He wants the whole world to know just how much he loves you. 

He doesn’t try to deepen the kiss, afraid that if he does, he’s going to have to somehow hide his growing erection. So, he pulls away and looks down at you. “We still have half of the carpet to go. Care to join me, baby?” 

“You sure?” 

“Absolutely,” Hugh answers. He takes your hand and leads you to the next marker, standing right next to you as his arm snakes around your waist. He can’t even smile or pose for the cameras, too focused on you. You lead him towards the end of the carpet, grateful that you’re in control because all he can think about is you and that dress. Usually, Hugh’s a gentleman, making sure not to make it too obvious that his eyes are lingering, but he can’t help himself. 

Once you turn around, your back facing him, Hugh comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around you. He presses a kiss to your temple, whispering into your ear. “You’re absolutely stunning, baby.”

The cameras continue to go off, so excited and grateful to have captured this moment between the both of you. You look up at him and smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Hm, all these compliments, Hugh… What do you want?” 

Hugh grins, leading you away from the red carpet and into the venue. “Oh, baby, you know what I want.” It’s dark when you enter the building, pressing his front against your backside. The fabric of your dress is satin, but thin enough that you can feel him so firmly. 

“Hugh…” 

“Okay, okay,” Hugh kisses your cheek and then pulls away before he gets too excited. He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. “Let’s grab a drink, yeah?” 

“We have a long night ahead of us, don’t we?” 

Hugh chuckles. “Let’s stay for a couple of hours and then head back home.”

“But this party is for you, Hugh. You should probably stay the entire time and–”

Hugh shakes his head. “I’m taking you back home because I don’t think I can last the entire night seeing you in that dress.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Hugh leans down and pecks your lips. “Now, come on. Let’s grab a drink and you owe me a dance.” 

“Oh, I do, do I?” you smile, following him to the bar. 

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m not dancing with you when you’re wearing that dress.” 

—

The two hours quickly approach and you had been talking to Blake when Hugh comes up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist. “Last dance?” he whispers. 

You nod, leaning back against him. “This one always wants to dance,” you tease, telling Blake who gives you a knowing look. 

“Well, you are with the greatest showman,” she quips. 

“Always singing, always dancing, I’m so lucky.”

“And I’m still right here,” Hugh points out with a chuckle. “You mind if I steal her away, Blake?” 

Blake nods and smiles, turning on her heel to go and get another drink. Hugh takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor. He slowly twirls you around, pulling you into him as his free hand rests a hand on your lower back. He keeps ahold of your hand against his chest, bringing it up to his lips as he places a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

Your free hand rests on his shoulder as you gaze up at him, slowly swaying side to side with him. “I think I’ve been really good,” he tells you. “Even though it’s been very hard to not just take you into the bathroom and–”

“Hugh!” you interrupt, letting out a quiet giggle. “One last dance and then we can head home.” 

“Good,” Hugh says. “Because I’ve been very hard for you,” he growls lowly. “It’s quite painful, actually.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you tease. “What can I do to help?”

“I’ve got a few things in mind, baby,” Hugh grins. 

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[sordidmusings]

jealousy headcanons and scenarios r my kryptonite! especially for emotionally constipated characters lol. for shanks, mihawk, and crocodile seeing their crush interacting with someone that turns out to be said crush's ex? there's chemistry between the exes and are those lingering looks he's seeing?! 🫢

OOOOOOOO GOOD CHOICES GOOD CHOICES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I must say I am weak for some jealousy too 💀 why does it have to be so hot in fiction huh??? Or make me feel wanted????? Rude 😤

Three jealous DILFs coming right up 🫡

Jealousy from Shanks, Mihawk, and Sir Crocodile

Your ex comes back into your life and stirs up some feelings - How are these men taking it?

Form this took: started as a bulleted headcanons but then became a scenario/ficlet for each ahsdjajskdajs

Word count: Shanks - 1.1 k, Mihawk - 1.2 k, Croc - 1.2 k

Shanks

The clinging and diverting type

This mf tries to be sneaky about it

Key word: tries

It’s no secret that Shanks is the jovial sort and that his welcome and cheer extend easily to newcomers. However, something curious happens when the next one joins your large table.

You always have at least a part of Shanks’ attention, so the way you shift uncomfortably and curl slightly in on yourself is not going to go unnoticed. You catch yourself and relax back into your usual posture, but Shanks knows you well enough to see there’s a posed touch to all your expressions. It tames them from the genuine displays of your thoughts and emotions that Shanks so loves into something more suited to a diplomat seeking favor. Now that had him wary.

It took no genius to notice that each time a great laugh broke out your eyes would sweep to that newcomer to take them in, or how your would flicker your gaze over to them every time you had the spotlight, as if seeking approval.

Gods Shanks hopes that isn’t the case

Driven to seek comfort in your presence, Shanks leans into his affectionate nature to keep close to you. You can’t think too long on someone else with him constantly leaning into your space to whisper dumb jokes and silly observations. He made those laughs and he gets to enjoy them up close and personal. You may look to others but you always look back to him when he ventures to lay his hand on your shoulder or hand or thigh and give a happy, hearty squeeze before retreating. He relishes in the fact that you had been uncertain of his touch when you first met yet now you trust and even welcome his hand on you.

Shanks is burst right out of his bubble of avoidance when you suddenly jolt and sit straight, separating yourself from his side.

The cause of his sudden and very dire lack of you is that very same newcomer. The newcomer, who is leaning in so close to you. The newcomer, who now has all of your attention. The newcomer, who is giving you a smile that Shanks very much does not like. It’s very charming and holds a twinge of remorse that Shanks knows from experience would strike straight and true right to your heart

“I’m glad to see you in happier times. You look good,” they have the audacity to say, the words even seeping with honesty. Shanks isn't sure he focused on anything in his life as hard as he does on your reaction in this moment.

Your smile is breathtaking, one he isn't sure he’s seen before, all affection and understanding and a dusting of yearning. It turns his heart to goo right before it clamps it tight and squeezes, because that smile isn't for him. He needs that smile to be for him. His mouth is moving before the thought even sinks in.

“We do like to keep things cheerful here!” Shanks chuckles to the newcomer. He turns to you, making sure to catch your eye. “Life’s too short to anchor yourself to your sorrows.” Now back to the newcomer. “And this one-” an arm slips around your shoulders, hugging you to his warm side, “-helps keep it that way.”

The smile you give him isn’t quite as overflowing with emotion as the one you gave the newcomer, but he loves it all the same.

Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it and the newcomer actually sits down on your other side and insists on catching up. Shanks is a damn charmer though, and he knows it, so he’s not one to give up on keeping your attention through the night.

He stays in the conversation easily, not deterred by the newcomer outsider bringing up shared memories with you, even though they squeeze at his heart and lungs tighter and tighter. He uses it to get to know more of you, a part of him truly enjoying the new insights. However, a much larger part is simply set on keeping the reminiscing light instead of romantically charged.

As the time and drinks flow, his and the outsider's tactics get more obvious yet you get more oblivious, simply cruising on the comfy fuzz everything had taken on and enjoying the company. Your unintentional refusal to pick a favorite has both of them getting desperate and daring.

Try as they might, the outsider is clearly outmatched

By the end of the night you’re wearing Shanks like a perfume, he’s stuck to your skin at the heart of your body, chest always tight to your back or side, chin often hooked over your shoulder or on top of your head. His slight scruff tickling at your ear when he moves and talks is exceedingly distracting. So is the softness of his hair on your neck when he turns his head to bed his cheek into your shoulder and pull you a little tighter to him, saying its just 'cause he's a little sleepy and trying to get comfy. He unearths himself from his resting place only to seek it again every few minutes.

His arm is always around you when he wasn’t using it to drink (of course) or toy with you - tugging at your clothes for attention, tickling your sides to interrupt you, sweetly scratching your scalp to derail your train of thought, teasingly rubbing a thumb into your hip or thigh to feel you squirm.

Shanks is a handsy motherfucker (ironic right-), so you don’t take any of this as a proclamation of his love. The most you think is that it has just hit that point in your journey together where his vast appetite for partners has finally swept its way to focus on you.

You end the night giggling the whole stumbling way back to the ship, tucked into Shanks’ side. You manage to stay there despite being at the mercy of both of your swaying, constantly blending who’s supporting and who’s slipping. Your ex is far from your mind when Shanks tucks you in sweetly (well… sweetly to a drunk; in all reality you kinda flopped in, but he did make sure you were shoeless and properly under the blankets, and he even shuffled back in to put water, crackers, and medicine where you could reach).

Shanks does however have a flash of your ex in his mind when he's happily gloating to himself that he had won.

His last blurry thoughts are of how to make sure you and everyone else unquestionably knows that you are off limits. The unspoken claim understood by the crew while he works at winning you over doesn't seem to be enough anymore. Especially if that pesky ex comes sniffing around again. Maybe they just need a lesson in what staring down Conqueror’s Haki truly feels like.

Mihawk

The intimidating and biting type

Mihawk would likely be the most covert of these three, at least as far as your notice goes

Your ex has no questions about Mihawk’s dislike for them. With his reputation as emotionless and solitary, it’s not guaranteed that your ex will put two and two together to realize that Mihawk's dislike stems from their previous relationship with you. Even if Mihawk hints at it, they'll tell themselves that they're imagining things. It’s much more likely that they’ll think it’s because Mihawk is that way with all but the Few Exceptions, and they have definitely not made the cut.

It definitely didn’t help that they were a marine

Mihawk is already unhappy to see a marine on his doorstep, no doubt sent to yip at him about some nonsense or other that the admirals were in a twist over. That unhappiness quadruples when he hears you tentatively call to this marine by name, and then it multiplies again when the marine responds by breathing out your own name with shock and hope

This pest needs to be out of his castle quickly

Yet he can't bring himself to simply throw them out when you come over so disgustingly happy to see them. There were a few times where he'd interrupted or snuffed out your joy while adjusting to you joining his home, and he found the feeling it gave him insufferable. That's what forces him to let the pest in and guide them with you to the smaller dining room.

He’d simply have to find what the pest needs fast and expedite whatever catching up you two apparently must do.

That's easier said than done; you and the pest are insistent on taking time between flustered pleasantries to share uncertain smiles and lingering looks of longing in charged silence.

It's giving him the worst mood he'd had in years.

At first he tries to discourage this lingering with his mere presence. He knows he's capable of pumping out enough sheer displeasure into the air to knock out a squadron, so he keeps it to his other tools: body language that makes him feel larger than the room and a glare sharp enough to split hair. Both make the pest cringe and shy away, but the chance to gain your favor makes them push through it. Even though he hates it, Mihawk can't blame them.

Mihawk can tell that his mood is setting you on edge too - almost anyone would with the perturbed looks you've been sending his way - but that isn't technically taking your joy, so he doesn't back off.

In fact, he decides it's time to push even more.

He begins interjecting in your conversation, mostly with little insults to take the wind out of the pest's sails.

You aren't yet tipped off that there's something hiding behind his mood; he was never fond of braggarts so it isn't so out of the ordinary for him to humble someone. Of course, you wouldn't exactly call what your ex is doing "bragging" so much as filling you in on their growing career. They are actually relatively humble about it, clearly just excited to fill you in and not phrasing things to seek your praise.

Then Mihawk starts complimenting you.

Mihawk is not one to dish out praise. You've had to fight tooth and nail to get the mere drops of it you'd tasted so far, so his sudden highlighting of your positive traits trips your sensors. It isn't exactly alarm bells ringing, more it makes you feel like there's something you're missing. You figure it's the sudden disruption and old instincts from his Marine Hunter days cropping up.

You would have never guessed that his aim with his nitpicking and praising is to make sure your ex knows for a fact that you are out of their league. They don't deserve you. But he could.

No matter the reason though, you certainly relish in Mihawk calling you things such as "necessary for [his] castle", "smarter than those inane marine trials", "finally proficient and needing no distractions to ruin that", and "better company than a bunch of sea monkeys". Sure, from most anyone else they'd feel slightly insulting, but from everything you've so far seen of Mihawk that's a glowing review.

The uncanny nature of this whole interaction, from Mihawk's tank in mood to the sudden praise, keeps your focus away from your ever shrinking ex.

Mihawk is simply delighted to see your attention going to its rightful place, on him. You should be looking at him with such interest and joy. You should be seeking his approval; not some simpering swine's.

He figures he's been patient enough (it's been almost a whole ten minutes after all) and it is time to end this farce.

Mihawk stands from his spot and goes to sift through the wine rack. He returns with an above average vintage (even by his tastes) and two glasses. He sets them at the corner of the table so he can deftly open the wine. The silence as you both watch him work elates him.

The first glass is placed in front of his seat and swiftly filled. You watch the action with admiration for his fluid and confident motions. The pest watches with growing envy.

The second glass is filled while still sat in the corner, keeping its owner ambiguous.

The bottle leaves one hand and that glass enters the other, coming with Mihawk as he moves to stand behind your chair.

His full height set strongly in sharp shoulders and straight spine cuts a devilish figure behind you. Your ex's first impression was that he is haunting you, but there's some little whisper in their mind that, no, Mihawk is protecting you.

That whisper gets stronger as Mihawk leans forward over you, getting much too close to be polite while he places the wine glass down directly in front of you. His eyes hold the pest's with an air of warning the whole time.

Mihawk settles back upright, placing a hand on both carved corners decorating the back of your chair. The act seems clearly possessive. But surely Mihawk couldn't have found some special fondness for you?

You are none the wiser to Mihawk's antics behind you, too enraptured by the closeness of his reaching arm then too distracted checking out the color and aroma of your gifted wine.

Having at least enough pieces of a functional brain to pick up on that cue, the pest begins rushing out some excuses and makes to leave.

Kind as you are, you tell them they don't have to rush off, but they're adamant. You're a bit sad to see this chance meeting end so quickly, but your mind quickly settles on thinking it's for the best. Your memories of them are distant enough to be cherry picked and seeing them scamper off so easily reminds you that there are reasons you parted.

Mihawk chases escorts them out and returns to you looking much less belligerent and much more at ease. You figure it best to not risk ruining the positive turn by questioning it, yet you can't help but ask one thing.

"I usually have to pour my own wine from the kitchen's rack. What's the occasion?"

Mihawk takes a sip and the comfort of one of his favored wines coming over his senses coerces him into loosening his tongue.

"You've been good." Another sip and he thoughtfully adds, "I could give you more rewards."

Sir Crocodile

The assertive and analytical type

Despite Croc being a plotter, I see him as being quite direct in this situation

Ok yeah maybe he insists it’s because you can do better and you’re definitely above crawling back to an ex (“you broke up for a reason didn’t you?”)

But maybe he also takes this as his opportune moment to get you into his clutches.

Who could blame him when he feels the threat of such an unworthy little nobody working so hard to catch your eye.

Croc always keeps an eye on you, no matter what else demands his attention. Sure, there's an obsessive edge to it, but he just needs to know what you're up to - has to know you're safe near for when he needs you. You are the best assistant he's ever seen after all, and he's been through an army's worth. He's sure his new organization would've crumbled if you weren't there to balance out the clown and his circus monkeys constantly shooting themselves in the foot (sometimes literally).

Many of those circus monkeys were even stupid enough to try and approach you themselves. Luckily for him, you seem about as enthused on the idea of you having a partner as he is.

Which brings us back to his irritation that you haven't swatted that bug away from you. No, instead you seem to be rather tolerant of their buzzing. Maybe even fond.

That just won't do.

The crowds at this schmooze-fest, thrown to entice more pirates and criminals alike, part easily for his beeline to you.

It only irritates him even more that you don't notice him until you're swallowed by his shadow. You even have the audacity to look surprised when you turn to him.

And you truly are surprised - as far as you know there's no reason for Croc's usual grimace to turn into something so stormy, especially directed at you. It quickly jumps to your ex however and focuses that torrent there.

"I don't know you," Croc states gruffly.

"I'm-"

"Your name doesn't matter," Croc interrupts. "What do you do? Why are you here?"

And thus begins the interrogation. You can only watch perplexed as Sir Croc tugs every bit of information he could want out of your ex, making sure to cut off anything he didn't care to hear. That frustrated look and tone become more bored by the second. Every tone tells your ex that they're barely worth the breath to speak, causing them to shrink even faster than Sir Croc's anger did.

You catch their eye and send them a sympathetic smile, and then Croc moves on to you.

"And you," he starts roughly. He lets you sit in suspense while he drags those hooded purple eyes from the crown of your head to the toes of your shoes and back. "Why are you here?"

You're taken absolutely aback by the question, mouth flapping from a mix of shock and offense. You have quite a list of things you keep your eye on at these parties; did he want you to go down the whole thing? After a deep breath, you try, "To gather informationof and from possible allies and help build relationships?"

"Wrong."

Well, at least he let you finish your sentence. Time to try again.

"To make sure the night runs smoothly," you say much more surely. It's an apt description of your overall job.

"Wrong again." Yep, that grimace is now definitely a smirk. One that only widens when you purse your lips and stare him down. You notice the genuine amusement shining in Croc's eyes and relax a touch, content to let him guide this to whatever destination he has planned.

"Then please, Sir, tell me," you relent. "Why am I here?"

He takes a deep puff of his cigar before pulling it from his lips and watching the smoke swirl out with his exhale. You watch it too - admire how handsome he looks reappearing through the haze. Enjoying how small you feel as he leans over you through its last remnants.

He rarely touches you with his golden hook, always using his hand (you've yet to realize it's because he prefers to feel you on his skin). Now, though, he raises it towards you. You're surprised yet again when the curve touches beneath your chin to tilt your face just a little higher; the metal isn't cold like you thought it would be. It must be warmed from resting on his thigh. You shake away the thought of warming it further.

He takes his time assessing you, giving you your own time to look over his breathtakingly chiseled face, admire his striking scar, forget everything else but his eyes on you.

Without intention, you gravitate towards him, leaning forward enough into him and that golden hook drawing you that you have to catch yourself with a stumbling step. The fond chuckle he gives in response resonates deep and rich and feels like a reward flowing over you.

"You, my dear," Sir Crocodile says with unfamiliar mirth, "are here to keep me happy."

"And how would you like me to do that, Sir?" you whisper back.

At first, that just earns you a smile. Then he's drawing his hook along your jaw, tickling the tip around your ear, drawing it gently across your cheek. It ends its journey on your lips, ever so gently pulling your bottom lip down before letting it flick back up when he draws his arm away. You watch the glimmering gold retreat. He's greedy for more of the longing he sees in your eyes. He leans slightly lower and gives you back that hook, this time in the form of an offered arm.

"With your company, of course," He finally answers. The warmth you hear in the drawl of his voice is beautiful.

You slip your hand into the crook of his arm, happy you can feel his body heat through the soft fabric of his shirt.

Halfway back to his previous spot, you realize that you'd become so distracted that you hadn't even said goodbye to your ex. You had wanted to exchange numbers, maybe truly get back in touch and feel out if things would be better this time. Noting how deep your draw to Croc is, you already feel that that would be a dead end. Well, maybe some time rekindling things would help your daydreaming and wishing for Sir Croc finally start ebbing away.

"Did you see where they went?"

Croc has to hold in his smile at your question. "They scurried off on you. It's for the best though; they were exceedingly unimpressive."

You couldn't help but snort at his assessment.

After guiding you to your chair and pushing it in, Croc settles down himself. When he reaches for his awaiting drink, he notices Daz Bonez come back into the room, wiping his hands off on his pants. Their eyes meet and Daz Bones gives a firm nod before heading back to his other duties for the night.

Sir Croc smirks and takes a heavy sip of scotch.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

There you are sweet anon, I hope you enjoyed and that it properly scratched the itch❣️ Thank you for the ask 🤍 Sending much love!!!

Part of a little celebration

[be4chywritez]

Juno | max verstappen

max verstappen x singer!reader

request: I have so many short & sweet videos on my fyp right now. I can’t stop thinking about singer!reader announcing her f1 bf by arresting him and dedicating Juno to him like Sabrina does at her concerts. The fans would go wild!!! I’m desperate for this fic

beachy’s masterlist🐚

You quickly run towards your mark, adjusting your hair just as the lights dim. The moment Dumb and Poetic ends, you flash a smile, perfectly timed with the spotlight snapping back on.

“That was probably one of the saddest songs I’ve ever written,” you spoke into the mic, slowly pacing the stage. Your eyes sweep the crowd, and then they land on him. Max. He’s standing there with his pink VIP pass, wearing that blue shirt you love on him—the one you practically begged him to wear.When his gaze meets yours, he sends a shy wave, and you can’t help the giddy smile that pulls at your lips.

“Anyways,” you drawl, tearing your gaze from him and turning towards the other side of the stage. “I just want to thank you all for coming tonight!” The crowd roars in response, and you revel in the energy for a moment before heading back to where Max is standing, your steps slower, more deliberate now.

You stop right in front of his section, heart thumping with a spontaneous idea. The kind of idea that makes your pulse race in the best way.

“Oh my god, girls, come quick!” you exclaim, beckoning toward your backup dancers, “I just saw my future husband, and I need you guys!”

The crowd screams, excitement rippling through them as they try to figure out who you’re talking about. Jaz and Nat, your backup dancers, strut over to you, Jaz already twirling the pink fuzzy handcuffs in her hand, playing right along.

You dramatically point at Max, your grin widening as you watch the tips of his ears turn red. “Look at him right there!” you say, throwing a glance over your shoulder at Jaz and Nat, who are doing their best to hide their shocked—and entertained—expressions.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, fanning yourself as the crowd’s cheers grow louder. Max’s cheeks are flushed now, and you drink in the sight, loving how flustered he is under the attention.

“Sir, you are under arrest for being too hot,” you say, biting your lip and giggling as the red and blue lights flash across the stage. The audience goes wild.

You lean forward a little, locking eyes with Max again. “What’s your name?” you ask playfully, knowing full well who he is. The big screen switches to the crowd, scanning for your chosen “arrestee,” building up the suspense.

Max cups his hands around his mouth, yelling back at you, “Max!”

“Max!” you shout back, playing it up, your excitement making the crowd scream even louder. The camera zooms in on his face, and the arena erupts in cheers and claps as the fans finally catch on to who exactly you’re teasing.

“Max what?” you ask, pointing the mic in his direction. He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, before shouting, “Verstappen!”

You laugh, a little giddy yourself, before dramatically exclaiming, “Y/n Verstappen!” You hold your hand up, examining your ring finger as if imagining the wedding band already there. The fans are beside themselves, giggling along with you.

“I like that name,” you say to Jaz and Nat, who are laughing along with the bit. “I’m thinking so many dirty things right now. The polo, the hair, the eyes, the nose—oh!” With a dramatic gasp, you pretend to fumble with your outfit as your tear-away maxi skirt drops to the floor. “Oh my gosh, how embarrassing! My clothes are falling off for you, Max!”

Jaz hands you the pink fuzzy handcuffs, and you saunter toward the edge of the stage, crouching down to hand them to a security guard, who passes them to Max. “These are for you, Maxie baby,” you say in your most sultry voice, earning even louder screams from the crowd.

You stand back up, flipping your hair back over your shoulder. “Monaco, help me sing this song for my Max baby!” you scream into the mic, the intro to Juno beginning to play in your ears, and the crowd’s energy is at an all-time high as you prepare to serenade him.

As Juno reaches the pre-chorus, you lock eyes with Max again, the playful smirk never leaving your lips. You saunter across the stage, your body moving in sync with the sultry beat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you.

"You make me wanna make you fall in love..." you sing, dragging out the words as the crowd sings along, but you only have eyes for Max now.

Your lips curl into a wicked grin as you hit the next line, "Wanna try out some freaky positions?" You hold the mic in one hand while sliding into a teasing pose, exaggerating every movement, making sure Max doesn't miss a thing. 

His eyes widen, and though he tries to keep it cool, you can see the flush creeping up his neck. The crowd screams, but it's just background noise now.

When you hit, "Have you ever tried this one?" you drop into an unmistakably suggestive pose, making sure to hold eye contact with Max, biting your lip playfully.

The way his mouth twitches, like he's fighting back a smile—or something more— just fuels you further.

The crowd is eating it up, but all you care about is his reaction. You wink at him, standing up slowly, as the song continues, your voice dripping with flirtation as you finish the verse.

The lights begin to dim as the final chords of Juno play out, and you blow Max a final kiss before stepping off the platform. You can feel his eyes still on you, even as the roar of the crowd fades behind you.

“Monaco there is a lot more where that came from!” you tease going on to your next song.

Backstage, the energy is electric, but all you can think about is getting back to Max. You spot him the moment you step off the stage, standing in the shadows near your dressing room, waiting for you. The second your eyes meet, the playful, teasing vibe of the performance is gone, replaced by something hotter, heavier.

"You were something else out there," Max says, his voice low, but you can hear the smile in it.

"Oh, you liked that, huh?" you tease, stepping closer to him, still on the high from the show. "You looked a little flustered out there, Maxie."

He rolls his eyes, but there's a blush coloring his cheeks as he tugs you toward him. "I think you enjoyed teasing me a little too much."

"I can't help it. You make it so easy." Your voice drops to a whisper as you slide your hands up his chest, your body still buzzing with energy. "Besides, I think you liked it."

Max smirks, his hands settling on your hips as he pulls you even closer. "Maybe," he says, his voice low and teasing. "But you owe me for putting me through that."

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck.

 "Oh, I plan to make it up to you," you whisper, leaning in close.  

"Starting now." And with that, you close the distance, the playful tension from the stage melting into something more intimate as your lips meet his.

[nhlclover]

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 | 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

summary: you finally get to watch will live out his childhood dream, but become a source of comfort when the game doesn't end the way he'd hoped.

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, use of flashback scenes (which are italicized), appearances from wills family + macklin (very briefly), sad will after the sharks lose

word count: 2.20k

notes: i had so much fun writing this oh my gosh. sucks that the sharks lost but will had a good game (and so did macklin but this isn't about him right now)

The roar of the crowd felt deafening in your ears as you watched Will and Macklin skate out onto the ice, the bright lights of the SAP Center shining down on them like a spotlight. You clutched the teal jersey tighter around you, the number 2 stitched onto the back. Your heart swelled with pride as you watched Will glide effortlessly across the rink, his movements a graceful blend of power and precision.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.” his mom said, voice trembling with emotion. You glanced over at Colleen who was clutching her chest with a smile that looked like it could light up the entire arena.

Next to her, Grace, Will’s sister, wiped a tear from her cheek as she reached for the both of you, pulling you into a hug as you shared this moment together. Even Will’s dad Bill, who was always so composed, had a telltale glimmer in his eyes, his lips twitching into a smile of unmistakable pride. You’d watched him grow from a gangly kid into a young man now living his dream. And now here he was, skating in his first NHL game.

It was a warm summer afternoon nearly a decade earlier when you first met Will …

You sat in a heap on the grass, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. A fresh scrape ran across your knee, a testament to your failed attempt at learning to rollerblade. The purple and green skates on your feet had been a birthday gift, and in your stubborn independence, you were determined to teach yourself how to skate. But the balancing part was proving much harder than you’d imagined, leaving you bruised and scraped after several falls.

As you sat there, huffing and pulling out tufts of grass in frustration, you heard a voice. “You okay?”

You turned to find a boy standing there, about your age, with shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes. He held an oversized hockey stick in one hand, donning black, sleek rollerblades on his feet. Will, as you'd soon learn, had just moved into the house next door. He smiled with a confidence that seemed far too big for his small frame.

“Yeah,” you muttered, wiping at your tear-streaked face, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I just…fell.”

Will nodded, studying your skates before dropping his hockey stick on the ground. “Want me to show you how to stop falling?” he asked.

You tilted your head. “You could do that?”

“Yeah! I’m a pretty good skater,” he said with a proud grin.

Will helped you to your feet, keeping your hand in his as he eased you back onto the pavement. You spent the rest of the afternoon with Will teaching you how to find your balance. He patiently caught you every time you wobbled, never laughing when you stumbled. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you could glide down the sidewalk without feeling like you’d crash into the pavement.

“Thanks,” you said shyly, tugging your skates off for the day.

“You’re not bad," he grinned, leaning against his hockey stick like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You just need a little practice."

“Will! Dinner’s ready!” a voice called from the nearby driveway. His mom, Colleen, waved him over. He glanced back at you, still seated on the sidewalk, and smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

From that day forward, it was always “you and Will”. He became your constant companion. Through scraped knees, missed goals, and late-night talks, you grew together.

It was during your sophomore year of high school when things began to change. You noticed the way Will would look at you a little longer when you were talking, his eyes lingering on your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. You’d find yourself holding your breath when he’d sling an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into one of his endless jokes, but the warmth of his touch would linger long after he let go.

One late night after a particularly tough game, Will dropped by your house, his hair still damp. You were sprawled out on your bed, textbooks and homework scattered around you when he knocked on your bedroom window. He always did that, never bothering with the front door.

“Need a break?” he asked, pushing up the window and climbing in like he'd done a thousand times before.

“Definitely,” you laughed, shoving your books aside, letting him sit on the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, but there was a nervous energy about him you hadn’t seen before. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. “I was just thinking about something.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Thinking about you,” he said plainly, your heart stuttering. “And about how I always feel better when I’m around you.”

You felt your stomach twisting into knots. “What are you trying to say, Will?”

His eyes searched yours for any clue that he should either stop or keep going with his confession. “I guess… I’m trying to say that I like you. A lot.” he laughed, shaking his head as if trying to brush away his own nervousness. “Like, more than a friend.”

Your breath caught, the world narrowing down to just you and him at that moment. You’d thought about this, dreamed about it even, but hearing him say it made it feel more real than you ever imagined. “I…I like you too, Will,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

The smile that spread across his face was the most genuine, heart-stopping thing you’d ever seen. “Really?” he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing softly. “Really.”

Without thinking, he leaned closer to you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your skin, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice trembling.

You nodded, and the next moment, his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant at first but quickly growing more confident as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. It was everything you’d imagined – and more.

When he pulled back, his face remained close, breath mingling with yours in the quiet space of your room. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“Me too,” you whispered, your heart still racing.

After that, you were no longer just best friends. You were something more, something that had been quietly building for years, just waiting for the right moment to finally come to life. Now as you stood in the packed arena years later, watching him take to the ice, you felt the past and present intertwine.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, a few slipping down your cheeks despite yourself. Will stopped along the glass in the corner, looking up into the section where you sat. For a split second, your eyes met, and even from a distance, you could see the brightness and unmistakable joy in his gaze. He gave you guys a small wave before looking back to the ice, taking a playful hit from his teammate.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered, squeezing Grace’s hand.

The game itself was a blur of excitement and nerves. Every time Will touched the puck, your breath caught. You watched him fight for possession, skate with the kind of speed and agility that only came from years of practice.

The first two periods were played well by the Sharks, with them taking a 4-1 lead, but the game soon slipped closer together towards the end of the third. When the Blues tied it with 45 seconds remaining, your heart tensed, the end of regulation buzzer echoing in a silent arena. Will didn’t see the ice in overtime when the Blues ended the game within the first 40 seconds of extra time. A collective groan sounded through out the arena, fans quickly clearing out.

Your heart sank, knowing how much this moment meant to Will. You watched as the team walked down the hall to the locker room, heads hung in disappointment. You spotted Will, Macklin patting him on the back, a small gesture of solidarity, but you could see how much it stung for both of them. They had given their all, but sometimes that wasn’t enough.

Fans continued to flow out of the stands, the usual post-game chatter was quieter, a stark contrast to the earlier excitement. A staff member instructed you to stay in the stands while Will changed and did media. You stood with his family, exchanging hugs, and offering words of comfort, but your eyes kept flicking back to the tunnel, waiting for him. 

Minutes felt like hours, until finally you spotted Will climbing the steps into the stands, changed back into his game-day suit, his damp hair falling in curls over his forehead. His face was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, but the moment he spotted his family, a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Will made his way toward you all, the arena now almost empty except for a few lingering staff members. Colleen was the first to meet him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and he buried his face into her shoulder for a moment, letting out a deep breath. Bill clapped him on the back, offering a few quiet words of encouragement. Grace was next, standing on her tiptoes to hug her brother, whispering something in his ear that made him smile faintly despite everything.

And then, his eyes found yours.

For a second, you weren’t sure if you should say anything, if you should be the one to comfort him after a loss like this. But when he stepped closer, his body radiating exhaustion and vulnerability, you knew he needed you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head as you hugged him back, tighter than you ever had before.

“You played amazing,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t say anything at first, just held you closer, as if drawing strength from your presence. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, but you could feel the tension in his muscles, the disappointment lingering in the air.

“That fucking sucked,” he finally muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I wanted to win so badly.”

“I know,” you replied softly, rubbing his back in slow, comforting circles. “But you’ll get another chance. Tonight wasn’t the end.”

You felt Will shake his head. “I could’ve done more, I should’ve gotten on the sheet.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hand resting gently on his chest. His eyes were a mix of frustration and exhaustion, still tinged with the adrenaline from the game. “Will, it’s not all on you. It’s a team game — you know that. You can’t carry it all on your shoulders.”

He exhaled sharply, his hands still holding you close as if he was afraid to let go. “Yeah, but… I wanted to, you know? I wanted to prove something.” His voice faltered, and the vulnerability in his expression tugged at your heart. You could see how much this moment meant to him—not just the game, but his debut, this night he'd dreamed of since he was a kid. And even though the team had lost, all you could see was how proud you were of him.

“You did,” you said, your voice steady and sure. You brushed back a lock of blonde hair that fell over his eyes. “You proved that you belong here. And not just to everyone else, but to yourself. This is just the beginning, Will.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling in. You could see the way his tense shoulders started to relax, his grip on you loosening ever so slightly as if he was finally allowing himself to believe it too. A small smile, soft and tired, tugged at his lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “Good thing you don’t have to find out.”

Will let out a small chuckle, the sound lightening the weight between you. “I can’t believe you came all the way from Boston for this.”

“Of course I did, Will. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you smiled. 

“I love you,” he breathed out, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It was warm and soft and tasted faintly of the Gatorade he’d probably chugged all game, and it was everything you needed to feel how much this moment meant to him.

When you finally pulled away, Will kept you close to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “For always believing in me.”

“Always,” you promised.

[draconic-desire]

DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #3 — The Interrogation

Bright light floods your vision, eliciting a hiss as you repeatedly blink to regain your senses. Shielding your eyes is useless; your hands are pinned tightly behind your back, your wrists already starting to throb.

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself tied to a chair, arms and legs bound to the wooden frame with thick rope. A few tugs and attempted kicks lead you to quickly relent that your bindings aren’t budging.

Shaking the fuzz from inside your head, you examine your surroundings.

While most of the room is cloaked in shadows, your chair is illuminated with a bright spotlight, highlighting the laminated flooring beneath your feet. Directly in front of you stands a long bar, perched upon a podium to elevate any individual behind it. The room is completely bare otherwise, giving a cold, clinical appearance.

How in the Aeons’ names did I end up here?

“Ah, you’ve finally regained your senses.”

You jolt, the voice to your left sending gooseflesh across your skin. It’s deep, full of condescension and authority, and almost certainly male. Sweat trickles down your neck.

Confirming your suspicions, a tall, muscular figure steps from the shadows beside you.

Your already rapid heartbeat skyrockets. Despite his scowl, the man is undeniably handsome—golden eyes to complement his dark purple locks, full lips and strong, toned arms on display thanks to his single-sleeved attire. You’d typically be blushing as he grips the back of your chair with one arm and leans down close to your face, if it weren’t for the unwelcome and compromising position you’re in.

You struggle to swallow. “I—um, sir, there must be some mistake—”

“You are (Y/n) (L/n), are you not?” he interrupts. His breath, minty with a touch of sage, tickles your nose as he closes the gap between the two of you even further.

“Um, yes…?” You cringe at how pathetic you sound, but really, how else are you supposed to react when a stranger has you apparently kidnapped and tied up?

The man rolls his eyes. “Come now, at least admit to your own name. If you can’t do that, how can you own up to the consequences of your actions?”

Head spinning, you ignore the fact that you think he just implied you’re stupid to instead focus on his latter comment. Despite your situation, you can’t help the spark of indignation that rages in your chest. Maybe that’s what makes you stupid: your sharp tongue. “Excuse me? Consequences? Are you lecturing me? And how do you know my name? Who even are you? Why am I here?”

Tilting his head slightly, the man lets a subtle smile pull at his lips. “Finally asking the right questions.” He stands and paces behind the podium in front of you, appearing like a judge presiding over court.

“My name is Dr. Veritas Ratio, and you, (Y/n), are my wife.”

You jerk back like you’ve been hit. That is certainly not what you were expecting.

A startled laugh escapes you. “I don’t have a husband.”

Ratio hums in response, jotting down something in a book he pulled from his robes. “And what is the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”

“Woah, woah, are we just going to glance over the fact that you’re claiming we’re married?!” you shout, panic creeping into your bones. So not only have you been kidnapped, but the individual holding you is also insane. Great. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

A deep sigh fills the room, followed by the sound of lead scratching against paper. A low mumble that you can barely discern contemplates, “Perhaps the dosage was too high this time? Such an amnestic response is unusual… Could a physical stimulus be required to invigorate her hippocampus?”

The damn man is treating you like a science project!

Before you can retort, he pulls out two small vials of liquid, both no larger than your thumb. He sets them down on the table before you and gestures to each individually.

“You now have a choice. Drinking this,” he motions to the right, at the vial possessing a golden liquid flecked with sparkling, iridescent particles, “will restore your memories. You’ll remember me, and everything that led up to this point.”

Remember him? Did he drug you into forgetting, and this was the next step in his experiment? If what he claims is true, why would a husband ever do that to his wife? Your head throbs.

“Or, choose this vial,” he points to the lefthand bottle, a concoction so dark it mirrors the midnight sky, “and you will forget everything and get to walk out that door shortly after.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Surely there was some sort of catch. His language was too vague to be of any comfort at all.

“Why are you making me choose at all? This all seems like one really fucked up joke.” You tug at your bindings again, letting out a growl of frustration.

Ratio pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You’re lucky I’ve grown so fond of you that I can overlook your insipid questioning. You will choose.”

“And what happens when I do? Surely it’s not as simple as remembering you or being freed. You don’t seem like a man who would go to all the trouble. What’s in this for you other than forcing me to be your little lab rat?”

After a pregnant pause, Ratio clucks his tongue. “Fine. I suppose it doesn’t matter if I give away the answers. You’re clearly not thinking straight.” He places his notebook down and picks up a vial in each hand, holding the small things between his thumb and index fingers.

“The gold bottle here will completely restore your memories. You want to know the whole truth about us? How you ended up in this room? Why it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation?” Your breath hitches; what did he mean not the first time. “Then drink this one. It will probably give you a leg up, since you’ll recall all those past times you tried oh so fruitlessly to escape me.”

He then raises his opposite hand as your horror builds. “Alternatively, this vial will completely wipe your memories, but only of me. You’ll recall everything about yourself, your life, hobbies, et cetera…but in doing so, you will be helpless the next time we meet. You will have no defenses, and one way or another, you will be my wife again. That much has already been proven true.”

The floor falls from underneath you. Aeons, how many times have you taken that midnight liquid? How many times have you been in this very scenario, drugged into forgetting him, only for him to court you time and time again. Clearly you must reject him each time, but he’s so lost in his obsession that he has to reset you each time you try to flee. The thought makes you immediately nauseous.

Despite your dry throat, you manage to croak out, “And if I refuse to take either?”

Ratio’s expression darkens, his chin tipped up haughtily. “Don’t test my patience, (Y/n).”

You gulp, eyes flicking back and forth between this two hands. You must choose.

[wonderlandwalker]

After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread

Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”

Word Count: 1k

A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!

None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.

It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.

“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.

“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.

“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.

“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.” He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.

“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.

“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day. 

You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time

“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.

“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.

And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time.  You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is. 

For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Prologue

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Prologue: Relationship

Summary: Saiki reintroduces us to the cast.

Quick Key:

“Hello” -Saiki speaking telepathically

Hello -Saiki thinking

“Hello” -regular people speaking out loud, Saiki speaking with telepathy

Hello -regular people thinking

Mouse Note: We're back! Just a cute reintroduction to characters and our beloved pair, but we are back. Updates will be Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays unless I fall behind or have to take a break, which is unlikely. And without further ado, welcome back to A Not-So-Disastrous Romance! It's such a fun story, and we've got a ton of fun moments going on this book. Please comment your thoughts, it helps me continue to write, and I love hearing your thoughts! 

            Saiki sighed in irritation as every single one of his bothers at school (aka “friends”) were reintroduced (even if only a week had passed since his birthday party). He really didn’t need the crowd. He could have made it extremely quick. For example:

            Himself, Kusuo Saiki: psychic who has uncontrollably powerful abilities, loves coffee jelly

            His mother: kind and considerate, loves her husband

            His father: the annoying parent, loves his wife

            Nendou: idiot, his mind can’t be read

            Kaidou: believes/pretends he’s some anime protagonist, stupid

            Kuboyasu: former delinquent

            Toritsuka: pervert, medium, a nuisance

            Hairo: way too intense

            Yumehara: wants more screentime, has a crush on Kaidou (bad judgement)

            Teruhashi: prettiest girl alive according to most people, has a crush on Saiki (not good)

            Mera: hungry

            Saiko: rich

            That was all the annoying people in his life that people had to meet.

            “Hey, Kusuo!”

            Now for someone Saiki was fond of. Really, more than fond of. Saiki turned in his seat to face the final person entering the classroom. They were a pure ray of sunshine with a smile to match, and Saiki found himself far more willing to put up with his bothers so long as they were there.

            (Y/N): Saiki’s significant other, his favorite person, angel, amazing cook/confectioner, wears germanium earrings that mean he can’t hear their thoughts, ray of sunshine, the only person Saiki is ever excited to be around, protects Saiki from bugs and bothers, etc. (Saiki could go on for a while)

            “Hello, (Y/N),” said Saiki.

            Thankfully, as he turned to address (Y/N), the rest of the Saiki K cast meandered away, having gotten their time in the spotlight.

            “So, have you recovered from your party?” asked (Y/N). They grinned and laughed. “I know crowds aren’t your thing.”

            “It wasn’t as terrible as it could have been,” said Saiki. You were there. And that was the day they had admitted they liked one another and decided to start dating.

            (Y/N) just smiled at Saiki. They didn’t need him to say that he was glad they had been present; they could read him well enough. He was their boyfriend, after all. (Saiki was their boyfriend. Boyfriend! (Y/N) still couldn’t believe it and was positively giddy)

            “Well, it’s not like you’ll have to deal with another party for a while,” said (Y/N). “And I’ll keep your actual birthday more low-key.”

            Saiki deadpanned. He doubted that. He never had luck with these things; he knew he’d end up with a giant party where all his bothers (friends) followed him.

            “I’ll make sure you get coffee jelly, at least,” said (Y/N).

            Saiki perked up again. He could always count on (Y/N) to think of something for him.

            (Y/N) chuckled at his instant reaction. He was a total sucker for sweets, and they knew it.

            Saiki looked at them as they laughed, and his heart softened. He really didn’t deserve them.

            “I’m going to Café Mami after school,” said Saiki. “They have a promotion.”

            “For coffee jelly?” said (Y/N). Saiki nodded. “I’ll go with you.” Saiki mentioning it was his way of asking them to go.

            And, hey, (Y/N) wasn’t going to say no to a date with their boyfriend.

            I still can’t believe it.

l

            Saiki and (Y/N) both let out a pleased hum as they took a bit of their coffee jellies. Café Mami was delicious as always, and since they already went their together before they were dating, it wasn’t strange for them to still be seen together, just the two of them.

            Together, Saiki and (Y/N) had decided to keep their relationship lowkey. First, none of their friends were…calm, for lack of a better word (others would include: discreet, normal, not-embarrassing). Second, some of the people they knew would make some problems (see Teruhashi and her crush on Saiki while being friends with (Y/N)). Third, Saiki and (Y/N) didn’t really care about people knowing their business. It didn’t feel necessary.

            So, for now, they weren’t going around announcing to people that they were dating. But that was alright. Saiki and (Y/N) had each other. That was all they needed.

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Ok this one might be weird but like the hashira men doing the knee thing?? Ifykyk THANKS

hehe we'll doing this

kny men doing the knee thing

Pairings: Sanemi x fem!reader; Tengen x fem!reader, Rengoku x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Warnings: it's not 100% smut but it's definitely not innocent so read at your own risk, it's getting heated y'all, not 100% proofread

for reference: this is the knee thing

Sanemi Shinazugawa

„That game is complete garbage, why are we doing that shit instead of training?”, Sanemi mumbles under his breath, his eyes set on the innocent bottle that rests within the circle of hashira.

“Teambuilding is important”, Shinobu explains briefly.

“And this is a lot of fun!”, Rengoku adds with his usual cheerful voice.

“Ah, I’m the one who spins the bottle next! Look, it landed on you, Sanemi!”, Mitsuri babbles.

“Yeah, don’t you fucking tell me…”

“Truth or dare?”

“I bet you’d never pick dare, yellow-belly”, you jeer from afar while sitting comfortably safe between Tengen and Rengoku.

Sanemi’s venomous eyes meet yours, his mouth twisted into a maniac grin.

“Oh yeah? Let’s make this interesting, then. I pick dare”, he announces.

“Okay, um…oh, I got it! I dare you to come up with the most creative way to get (y/n) to laugh within the next minute.”

“Why me!?”, you protest.

“Nothing easier than that.”

Faster than you’re able to react, he springs up, grabs your shoulders and drags you with him. You find yourself pinned against a nearby wall by none other than Sanemi Shinazugawa himself.

“W-What is this?”, you mutter, head already turning bright red.

“Making you laugh, huh? I know exactly what makes you laugh.”

His hand rests against your waist a little too long, eyes literally eating you up alive. And then Sanemi’s knee subtly rubs against your thigh.

“Just imagine we’d be here alone. Only you and me without those idiots. Me who takes his kimono off just the way you imagined 100 times already. And you-“

Your face flushes a bright shade of crimson as you try to stifle the giggle that bubbles up uncontrollably. You dart your eyes around, desperately seeking somewhere, anywhere, to hide, your stomach churning with embarrassment. In that instant, time seems to stretch, the spotlight of everyone’s attention feeling heavy and relentless. Yet, amid the awkwardness, you can’t help but find a small, rueful chuckle escaping your lips when he hits that sweet spot with his knee.

“I’ve won”, Sanemi announces with his knee still resting between your thighs.

“And I guess I need to leave for a few minutes”, he adds before stomping away.

“Me…me too!”, you breathe out while following him.

Uzui Tengen

“Can you just stop talking for a second? I’m having enough of your bullshit”, you jeer at the man you love more than anything else, your heart feeling like ripping any given second.

“Stop acting like this. That’s not very flamboyant-“

“Not very flamboyant? You know what’s not very flamboyant? That you fucking lied to me, that you made me look like a fool in front of everyone else while you were out with those women”, you now scream on top of your lungs.

“I’m a hashira, of course-“

“So what? Does that mean you have to stay at another woman’s side the whole evening while I’m at home, sick from worrying about you? Do you know what face Shinobu made when she told me?”

“Can you just let me e-“

“And now you’re standing in front of me like that, only making excuses! I’m having enough of this bullshit-“

“No, I’m having enough of this.”

Within the blink of an eye, you are trapped between Tengen’s muscular arms and intense gaze.

“You’re acting way out of line if you really think I’d do something this unflashy. You should know better”, he hushes between parted lips.

Heat starts spreading in your abdomen almost instantly. That fucking bastard who knows your body so well, who knows exactly what buttons he has to push to drive you insane. Gently, his hand cups your cheek while his skilled index finger traces the outline of your lips.

“You should know you’re my only.”

His other hand wanders right above your butt and keeps you in place.

“And that you’re all I think about.”

He shifts his weight, his knee now slowly but surely creeping up your leg seductively.

“Stop”, you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders with every inch he moves.

“You really want me to stop? I haven’t even started yet”, Tengen mutters with low voice.

The second his knee rubs against your most sensitive spot, you feel like fainting and flying at the same time. If it wasn’t for his lips that now conquer your mouth without any mercy, you couldn’t hold back a heartfelt scream.

“You cheeky bastard”, you mumble between his lips while holding onto him for what feels like dear life.

“Please don’t stop…”

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?”, Tengen hushes and nibs at your ear.

“Oh fucking god, please just leave you freaks”, Sanemi screams from afar.

Kyojuro Rengoku

“Come on, (y/n), I know you can do it!”, none other than the flame hashira himself shouts towards you.

You feel like dying. Were you out of your mind when you decided on being Kyojuro Rengoku’s tsugoko? Probably too blinded by that oh so breathtaking face and physique. Just one look into his eyes was enough for you to agree.

A mistake?

Before you’re even able to steady yourself, his leg rushes towards your face again.

Sometimes it definitely feels like one.

With a swift motion, you manage to somehow glide escape the force of his leg, your back pressed against the soft grass before you maneuver yourself back up. Over and over, your arms, hands and legs defend his merciless slashes.

“You learned a lot, (y/n)!”, Rengoku praises you with that breathtaking smile on his face.

“Thank y-“

One hit is all it takes for you to lose your balance and trip over. You squint your eyes, desperately try to steady yourself with your waving arms. But you fall.

Directly towards Rengoku.

Directly towards the ground.

You land surprisingly soft on the firm ground.

“I’m sorry, are you hurt? I didn’t mean to hit you this hard!”

That voice is way too close, where is he?

When you open your eyes again, you stare directly into his face.

His oh so flustered face that is only inches away from your own while the heat of his body literally burns you alive in an instant.

“Are you okay, (y/n)? Let me help you back up!”

Kyojuro moves underneath you, is already on his way up when his knee brushes against your skin. Not anywhere, but there.

“Oh god”, you whimper when a wave of butterflies washes over you without any mercy.

No men ever touched you down there, not a single soul but you. And the fact that it’s him, the man you’ve kept an eye on since joining the corps…

Your head starts spinning, feelings all over the place while your flesh starts pulsating around his still resting knee.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”, he questions again.

When he tries to move, you instinctively grab both of his arms in order to keep him in place. No, you’re not ready to let him go yet, not when you’ve been imagining what he might feel like for so damn long. You know you’re acting way out of line, that he’s nothing but your teacher.

But you can’t help it.

“(y/n)?”

His voice is now unusual low, pupils growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. The way his breath caresses your cheek, oh so kissable lips only inches away from yours while his knee, his godman knee, still rests so urgently against your sweet spot.

“I…”

You can’t find the words, can’t even form a single logical thought with his body resting against yours in a way it never did before.

“There is something I wanted to talk about for a long time”, he finally presses out.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You almost feel like fainting when his hands cup your cheek gently. Are you dreaming? Is this really happening? Your heart feels like exploding any given minute.

Is Rengoku Kyojuro really about to kiss you?

When his lips meet yours, you feel like exploding. You allow yourself to discover his mouth the way you always imagined while holding onto his uniform for dear life. Even if this is nothing but a dream, even if you might get caught, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

This is everything you ever wanted and so much more.

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