#anyways yeah sure this can be the first thing I throw on here so I can stop being a coward why not

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 11

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N: i've been so busy but here's ch11!! I hope you like :)

~~~~~

Billie’s POV

I waited a while, checking my phone for a reply constantly but got nothing. I forced myself out of bed to get ready for rehearsal. I start the bath and undress, putting a Netflix show on my phone. I lower myself into the hot, bubbling tub and prop my phone up on the side.

I spend a while here, leaning my head back on the rolled up towel I set up for myself. I zoned off, thinking about switching out a few songs for tonight’s show.

As I drifted off into a daydream, my phone began buzzing. I opened my eyes to see it was Remy calling. Before I could dry my hands off, it slid towards the edge of the tub. My attempt to catch it failed, and my phone fell inside the water.

“FUCKING HELL BRO.”

I fished it out of the bath water, trying to answer the call anyways, but the screen was completely glitched out. Immediately, I got up and tried to dry it with a towel, shaking the water out of the charging port, only to realize my phone was completely messed up.

“You have to be fucking kidding me!” I grunted, sitting back down in my bath and throwing my useless phone at the floor. This is the least relaxing bath I’ve ever taken in my life.

I quickly drained the bath and took a shower, trying my best to not get into an irreversible horrible mood. When I finished getting ready, I threw an oversized hoodie over my outfit, put my hair in a pony tail, and left for the venue to start rehearsal.

******

“In the bathtub? No wonder you weren’t answering me.” Finneas tuned his guitar, prepping for sound check.

It was already 4:30pm, and we were getting ready before the concert at 7pm. Finneas joining me on stage for the next three days was the main thing keeping me going.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask, do you have an extra phone I can borrow for now?” I laughed, waiting for our sound guy’s sign to start testing the mics.

“We can get the team to get you a phone by tonight.” He laughed along with me.

“Actually, I was gonna tell you… Before I drowned my phone, I texted Remy.”

“You did?” He looked at me, wanting to know all the details.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you saw her instagram post, but when I saw it, I just wanted to talk to her… Tell her how much I miss her.” I looked down at the mic, fidgeting.

“What did you text her?”

“It’s literally so dumb. I feel so stupid, dude…”

“Tell me!” He begged, excitedly.

I cleared my throat and paraphrased, “I said… I saw your wall, it’s incredible.”

He laughed, leaning back and smacking my arm. “Literally no one… Trump fans.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I cringed at myself, laughing with him. “And then I just double texted her, and told her I missed her, and I wished I was with her in her newly painted room.”

“That’s rough, man.” He caught his breath, finishing up his guitar sound check. “Please tell me she answered before you destroyed your phone.”

“She called AS my phone jumped in the bath with me, dude.” I groaned, pouting while stifling a laugh.

“Fuuuuck!” He chuckled. “You wanna use my phone and give her a call back?”

“I was gonna call her from the hotel phone after the show. I don’t want her to think I purposely ignored her call.”

“So this is your first time speaking in over three weeks, huh? That’s almost a month. Have you thought about what you’re going to say?” He walked with me to the greenroom as we talked.

“Sort of. I’m going to apologize for sure. Hopefully, it goes well, and she forgives me. Hopefully it won’t lead to an argument. She’ll probably want to talk about it, though. I just don’t want to mess up and say the wrong things, you know?”

“Just speak from your heart. Don’t hide anything, leave it all out in the open. That’s just my advice.” He patted my back and grabbed a snack from the table.

“Yeah. I hope I can do that. I hope she even answers.” I shrugged, thinking about the possibility that she may not even want to talk anymore.

What if she changed her mind. What if me not answering hurt her feelings. What if she was just calling to tell me to go fuck myself instead?

“Let’s see right now.” Finneas immediately dialed her on his phone, putting it on speaker.

“No!” I covered my mouth and held my breath. I guess there would never be a better time to rip the bandaid off.

It rang for a while, the dial tone continuing on, until her voicemail greeting played. He hung up.

“Maybe she’s busy?” He looked at me, trying not to let me down.

“Maybe.” My heart drops. She usually answers Finneas, so the fact that she didn’t, made me feel like she didn’t want to hear from, or about me. Like she figured I was still on my bullshit and Finneas was calling to fix it for me. I fucked up. She’s probably hurt. I double text her, then I decline her call. She must think I’m the worst.

Finneas pats my back and gives me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry.” He says.

The day goes on, my body traveled through space and time in autopilot. It passed by in a blink, and suddenly it was time to perform. I tried my best to get excited for the show while Finneas and the rest of the crew hyped me up. Before I knew it, I was on stage catching that adrenaline rush that was so familiar to me.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

After the show, I ran under the stage and back to the green room to grab some water and have a breather. Finneas trailed behind me, plopping on the same couch from earlier. It was a pretty known ritual of mine to immediately have some alone time to catch my breath after a show, mostly to keep the crew or management from rushing me all at once. I gave Finneas a heads up that I’d be getting un-ready in my dressing room, and made my way over.

I stretched my arms over my head and let out a giant yawn as I approached my room. Turning the knob, I swung the door open, exhausted from quite the performance I had put on, both physically and mentally.

Inside the room sat a pretty brunette facing the vanity mirror, holding an enormous bouquet of white, long stem roses. She straightened her posture and watched me through the reflection. Her back faced me until I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

“Remy?” I took a step closer. She turned around, remaining seated in the velvet stool. I almost didn’t believe it was real. I wanted to pinch myself but I was found half paralyzed, barely able to form full sentences.

“Hey, you.” She shyly spoke, her voice filling my heart with warmth and relief. She held the flowers out to me, standing up and looking at the brown-paper wrapped two-dozen in her hands. She struggled making eye contact and her arm was a bit shaky.

I stepped forward, moving the flowers out of the way and pulling her into my arms. We said nothing for a while, steadying our heartbeats. I indulged in our embrace, swaying back and forth out of habit. I focused on the reflection on the mirror in front of me, taking a mental picture of this moment. Her chin rested on my shoulder, her head only half an inch lower than mine. Her arms wrapped around my torso, and my hands on her upper and lower back. For three weeks, alI I needed was this hug.

Finally we broke the silence, “I’m sorry.” We both blurted out.

I pulled away, looking at her delicate face. She looked back down at the flowers, avoiding my gaze. Her makeup was done so lightly tonight, with a thin winged eyeliner standing out. I looked at her perfectly high cheekbones, noticing just a bit of shine added to them. Her hair was done in loose, wavy curls, with her curtain bangs remaining straight. Her lips were brushed over with a sheer gloss, her lips naturally plump and mauve. At the sight of them, I tucked my bottom lip under my top one, thinking before I let myself speak and ruin everything.

“Remy, I’m the one who should be sorry.” I finally mustered up the courage to talk, although careful not to reveal too much. “I fucked up. I didn’t know what the hell I was saying. I’m an idiot, I thought I was helping, but I was just being selfish. And this whole time I thought I was angry at you, but really-“ I stopped myself, noticing her long eyelashes batting at me.

I paused, taking a deep breath and giving myself a moment to think before continuing. “I was angry at you for nothing. I was wrong. I shouldn’t expect you to listen to everything I say, or make decisions about your career based on-“ I sighed, feeling like I could never find the words. I was tip toeing around the real problem, just like Finneas said. I wanted to be honest with her so badly, I did. I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time.

“It’s okay. I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.” She looked directly in my eyes. Her stare felt like knives jabbing into my soul.

“No, don’t apologize-“

“Let me apologize. Please.” She started, handing me the bouquet that she had trimmed and prepared herself. “I know I’m not the easiest person to be friends with. I have a lot of baggage, and-“

“Stop. Don’t say that-“ I hated hearing that. I hated thinking I contributed to her feeling this way.

She protested, “No, it’s true. We’ve been friends for so long, and you’ve been there through everything. You did pick me back up, and maybe that does give you the right to feel like you have to protect me and shield me from everything.”

I swallowed, admiring the roses in my hand, while listening to her soft voice.

“But you have to let me make my own choices and my own mistakes. And I need you to support me, because you’re all I have.” She began to cry, “Billie, this month has been so hard without being able to just text you or call you, and then you casually text me-“

I quickly put the roses on the vanity next to us and brought her into another hug. “I’m so sorry, Remy. I’m so stupid. I should’ve been more supportive. I’m stubborn and I think everyone should just think like me. I just wanted you to be happy. And it just felt like you’d be happier if I didn’t butt in on your life…” I gently placed a hand on the back of her head. Her hair smelled like jasmine and vanilla, and felt silky smooth. “It just hurt. Some of the things you said hurt, and I’m so fucking stubborn.”

I pulled away, grabbing both of her hands. A small gasp escaped my lips, “And today, when you called me, the reason I didn’t answer is because my phone fell in the bathtub and it fucking broke, I swear to god I wasn’t ignoring you. That time.”

She nodded, smiling a bit. That smile she held back from me, although minuscule, meant the world to me.

“I promise you, no more telling you what to do, no more harsh, unnecessary comments about your work. I’m going to support you, no matter what. If you ever kill Joe, I’ll be your alibi, we’ll bury the body together.”

She let out a small laugh. I made her laugh. Thank God.

“That was a joke.” I smiled. “I’m sorry for being so-“

She shook her head, “Me too. I’m sorry for complaining so fucking much. I understand why you want me out of there so bad. But I need to keep pursuing this. I feel it. Trust me, okay?” She smiled, letting go of my hands and wiping her tears. “And I’m sorry for saying that shit about you before I left the car. It’s not true. You’re not like that at all.”

I nodded. “It’s okay, I deserved it. I was such a dick, Remy.” I rubbed my eyes and took my hair out of the messy ponytail. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

“Billie.” She grabbed my arms, grazing my skin softly with her fingers. Her touch gave me goosebumps.

“Yeah?”

“I know you love me.” She looked directly into my eyes.

“You do?” My heart dropped all the way down into my ass. My stomach turned and my knees weakened.

“Yeah, you’re the greatest friend I could ask for.” She smiled.

The word friend echoed in my head, giving me the urge to break my neck right in front of her. However, I thanked my lucky stars that’s what she meant. This meant nothing had changed, and we’d continue as normal. As best friends…

[glitchfuzz]

weird cat

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also it's something (better) like, the exercise of deliberately [art imitates life imitates art] holding up Billions to My IRL Things Perspective and going like whaaat would i want for winston. first answer is you want any character to not have been within the scope of the show in the first place, and to exit it since they are. and you kind of get that in the accidental reward in banishing winston, since like in the end it's just that the show doesn't care about him existing at that point But like it's winston sitting there quietly as everyone leaves & turns out the lights & Then he can leave too; others have peaced out & nobody remembers he exists so Now he can go off & do whatever.

but like in true form i think they definitely accidentally baked in another divine reward for winston in that, like, the way he's kept around as fodder for these fun little [pov: enjoy abusing this guy] asides with him, where it Just So Happens that he's autistic as something they're unaware of but is completely relevant to the expectation we understand him to be inferior(tm), it Just So Happens that he's also ""bad"" at not ""causing"" abuse to be turned on him. he's ""bad"" at staying in line. like well yes Yes that's what i want for him. just like In Real Life it's like yeah Ideally i'd want people to be able to extricate themselves from where they're trapped in power structures & i'd want them to have the perspective about it of understanding they're not Inferior / i.e. they are as much a person as anyone else and they're not corrupting everything good / i.e. it wasn't them Bringing It Upon Themselves and it's not them being Destructive by toppling a jenga tower of a hierarchy that happened to be pressing down on them. and winston is the kind of [the ruinerrrrrr] who is Turned On exactly because he keeps acting like someone who's on the verge of breaking out of the [being in line] someone demands of him as autist, employee, whatever other supposed manifestations of [inferior]

like in the 5 second stretches in which winston's allowed to speak before retaliation, it's because he's like "matter of factly" delivering whatever Information that's useful for another plotline. then he Brings It Upon Himself by making people aware that he's Also existing in his own right as a person rather than what they think serves their own deal / what they want from him at all times, perhaps by expressing his personality (didn't appeal to them! so it was Wrong) or not b/c of anything in particular said or done at present, just b/c people have a constant / accumulating contempt for him so their being in the same room as him & able to see & hear him is already dangerous. the [we're just seeing Any Abusive Dynamic in action] continuing apace.

and it's like, well, right there. he's written as acting like someone who doesn't blame himself for how he's treated, which billions frames as being Rude & Mean, and so too does everyone's abusers lmfao like and that these are his moments that are written to be Bringing It Upon Himself. and it's like hell yeah he doesn't blame himself. hell yeah that his self-esteem can manifest as anger at all. hell yeah that he keeps expressing himself with personality & confidence & doesn't even disguise his having been hurt, & it's this [his ass is Not grey rocking] that billions frames as both him "causing" his abuse & making that abuse "successful" lol, wrow just like real life!! and when like speaking of real life yeah it's not "bad" that people Do engage in strategies to mitigate & survive, including things like blaming themselves or being too "boring" to be anything but a non dialogued background character b/c that's all that goes unpunished, it's bad b/c it's done to them at all, not [ohh they're doing it to themselvesss] and like i'm asking myself like Ideally. what do i want Ideally. and i'd want winston to know that it's being Done To Him & i'd want him to find as much room for his personhood & autonomy as possible. and that's basically how he's written anyways, and billions hates that like You See this is why he deserves it this is why he's doing it to himself. and i'm like my god if that's not Inspiration for like "so what if people don't find you Personally Likable" and not preemptively holding back all personality or anything that'd draw attention as if you exist as a person in your own right & not something that only either gets in the way of or serves their wants of a Real person (someone with more power) like hell yeah you have him out here doing it =']

another fun addendum is like, billions isn't getting into it much b/c it doesn't seem to care much about "what if some people were peers & seem to have a genuine, recipcrocal relationship?" but that it just so happened to be like "oh tuk as the next closest loser who deserves it might be nice to winston" while it's framing winston as the "worse" Loser as being....unconditionally supportive of tuk. while the one downside of billions Also giving bentuk as much as it is is that it also inevitably has that shadow of "but ben is Superior to tuk" and like that it's correct that everyone encourages tuk to Stop Bringing It Upon Himself and start being less of a loser; it's wrong for winston to be like hey let's go have a foursome. like yeah probably don't make a list of the women you work with you'd be dtf but it's not like i'm convinced "ah billions and it's strong anti misogyny stance like" roflmao and billions is Not reflecting on "the downsides of unconditional support?" there when winston was beaten up for criticising taylor earlier like we WILL take his ideas while looting his [beaten unconscious] body there but he WAS wrong to express them as though he's BETTER than taylor!!! mafee's beautiful show of loyalty in kicking his ass even when he might agree with the argument and then benefit when it's adopted by taylor anyways! so it's as usual actually purely based on hierarchy & who gets to be in charge of people. it's correct for ben to be in charge of tuk, unless he has to step aside for that bizarre dead-end subplot about how it's tuk's fault if he's treated badly, b/c it's really his own Failure to have Confidence to know he has good ideas [raising our voice to deliver this message over the sound of breaking desks and chairs and computer monitors over winston because he had the confidence to act like he deserved to talk to someone and because he knows his ideas efforts & results are good & valuable around there] like. and isn't it sooo fucked up to talk about who you're dtf in the episode that has it be neutral if your boss is dtf & lets you know but is nice about it (and you're already Correctly tending to their ego, which you're responsible for!) like hey no possible problem! it's not even so much of a problem for a boss man to have the sex they're entitled to & be rude about their leveraging their power in that acquisition that it Stays a problem into the next season. ew, winston is Known (Inferred) Dtf??? we'll use it to exploit His vulnerability, exacerbate it, & punish him further for good measure in another episode that just revels in abuse & violation with a sexual aspect once again, but like, hey tuk don't do that, winston's such a Bad Influence for being like, shrug, kneejerk intervening with the Good Friendship where the One In Charge leaps in & Tells tuk the Correct thing to do. obviously there's also the tragedy that billions will Never let winston push back against Real Winners like rian or taylor in A Way That Matters (actually gets in their way at all) lol like. one thing that would have really been fun, winston should've literal kneejerk started physically fighting wags in either pertinent scene in 7x03 for real 110%. i wouldn't be like Gasp Violence Is Never The Answer if he just hit someone to hit them b/c fuck you. or broke anything on his way out etc etc. billions would Never let him. which is the other side of the same coin of [why he should get to]

tl;dr how great that winston's being "out of line" means he's basically always noticeably flouting & rebelling against the [He Deserves Abuse] agenda lol. that IS what i want. his being "beyond hope" like ohhh he's sooo stupid he doesn't realize how much he has the bad tastes & wrong interests & annoying personality He Will Always Be This Way like hell yeah!!! billions like oh no winston's personhood will never stay tamped down & locked away such that some godawful person tolerates keeping him in their inventory :( ohhh the ABA will never work :( that's right!!!!!!!!!! although they're not sad about it because it's about relishing the promise there will always be True Inferiors you can enjoy abusing with your righteous power over, but like well you wrote him escaping anyways even while dragging other "better" characters into standing around to serve axe's need for more than 1.8 employees and [crickets, reverberating cough, sneaker scuff] like. another ""wrong"" thing for winston to do, another thing for him to not "deserve," which is itself godawful actually lol like lord what it "rewards" its Good, Deserving characters with, no thanks. meanwhile winston's punishment is that he's autistic and """bad""" at being abused like lmfao good for him, fantastic for him, just what i want

[luvismenu]

their first time fucking —

⋆˚࿔ fuckboy!jungkook 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ extra ࣪ ִֶָ☾. written, nsfw

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“are you sure about this?”

“yes, like i said, go slo— i told you to go slow jungkook!”

“oh fuck-”

“you ruined it!!!” you exclaim as you watch jungkook lose a game that the two of you have been playing for the last 30 minutes. well, he's the one playing and you're kind of.. helping.

you wanted to play, but he insisted he wanted to play alone because you're a 'nerd' and couldn't play as well as he could—which earned him a smack on the head from you.

“i told you, you have to wait until the monster appears,” you huff, and he slumps back into the couch.

“okay, expert, whatever,” he shrugs.

“yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes.

jungkook relaxes into the couch, his head thrown back as he groans, “where is this mother fu—”

ding!

“i think you got a text,” you say, glancing at his phone on the small table beside the couch.

“oh, you think so?” he mocks, and you glare him.

hoseok invited you for your usual study session. normally, you both would go to the library or the café he likes, which you didn't mind. today, though, he said he wanted to study at his frat house because it would just be the two of you.

and you couldn't miss a chance like that now would you?

but when you arrived, hoseok was nowhere to be found, and it was jungkook who let you in.

what a fun way to find out that all the fuckboys live in the same house.

jungkook told you that the other members were out doing what they usually do—things you'd rather not know about.

and now, you're just waiting for hoseok to come back.

“oh... okay,” jungkook says aloud as he sets his phone aside, turning to you.

“was it him? is he coming?” you ask.

“nah, he's getting wasted with the others, probably won't be back until.. i don't know, early morning i guess?” jungkook replies, “oh and i told him you were here. he said he's sorry that he forgot and told me to tell you to go home safe.”

you sulk at his words.

he notices.

“he... forgot?” you ask, your voice dropping.

“that's what he said. if you don't believe me, you can take my phone and see his texts.”

“no, no, i mean...” you sigh. “uh sorry, i should get going then.”

you stand up, grabbing your bag. but before you can take a step forward, jungkook speaks up.

“we can play another game if you want.”

you look at him. he holds up his controller, placing the second one beside him.

“together.”

“i am tired,” he groans, throwing the controller onto the couch as he walks toward the kitchen and you follow him.

“for a fuckboy, you have less stamina,” you joke.

“i was studying the whole day—”

you raise a brow.

“i know, yeah me, studying?? woah, impossible!!” he mocks himself, then continues more seriously, “trust me, i study.”

he grabs a can of beer from the fridge and closes it. “sometimes.”

you can't help but scoff a laugh.

“you don't have to explain yourself,” you say, crossing your arms as he takes a sip of the beer before responding.

“i know, but it's you i’m talking to, so—”

“what do you mean, me?”

he tilts his head. “aren't we friends?”

“yeah?”

he smiles. “then i gotta prove that i’m not as bad as you think i am.”

“i don't—”

“you do.”

you think for a second and sigh. “i do.”

that makes both of you chuckle.

“i think i should go now, it's getting late,” you tell jungkook, glancing at the clock on the wall. you walk toward the door, and he follows you.

“thank you for the ice cream,” you say, referring to the treat you had a few minutes ago.

“it's okay, it wasn't mine anyway,” he shrugs, and you gasp.

“what the fuck, why did you let me eat it then?”

“relax! it’s hoseok's. he wouldn't mind since he literally ditched you tonight,” he says, then realizes how it sounds as he sees the change in your expression. “i didn't mean—”

“no, it's okay. he did kind of ditch me, but it doesn't really matter. i can meet him some other time.” you smile, trying to ease the awkwardness.

you're kinda rethinking about getting fucked by him anyway.

“right...” he trails off.

you both stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between you before he breaks it.

“so, i guess i'll text— mmph.” and you do it again. you cut him off just like when you first met him, but this time, the kiss lasts longer.

“w-wait,” he breathes out as he pulls back, staring at you. “you wanna fuck?”

“well, i don't know—”

“why did you kiss me then?” he asks

you look at him. why did you kiss him?

because hoseok isn't available? no.

because you're desperate? ... you're not sure.

“i don't know…” you finally say.

he opens his mouth to say something but stops.

“i just wanted to,” you add, and he's visibly surprised.

“is that wrong?” you continue, your eyes searching his.

jungkook's gaze softens. “no,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “but you don't like fuckboys and also we're friends—”

“yes, but tonight's different.” you say, reaching out to tug him back towards you, “you know, like a one time thing.”

he raises an eyebrow, his voice uncertain. “so, you wanna fuck and then wake up tomorrow like nothing happened? like we didn't do anything?”

you roll your eyes. “if you keep talking, we really won't do anything.”

“okay then final question, answer this with a yes or no” he says, his tone teasingly demanding, almost childish, and it makes you scoff a laugh.

“what?”

he smirks.

“wanna fuck?”

you smirk back.

“yes.”

───────── the wall ─────────

“o-oh fuck, jungkook, yes!” you moan out, your fingers tangled in his hair. his head is buried between your thighs, which are wrapped tightly around his neck. your hips are lifted, your back pressed against the wall as he stays on his knees.

he's been tongue-fucking you for a few minutes now, and you can feel yourself reaching the edge.

“mm, you taste so sweet.” he laps at your clit, sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth before releasing it with a pop. “i could eat this pretty cunt all day long.”

without warning, you cum on his mouth, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure course through you.

he swallows it all, his tongue still working on your sensitive pussy, making you squirm and whimper from the overstimulation.

slowly, he stands up as lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. he keeps you pressed against the wall, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he looks at you as you're gasping for air, that cocky grin forming on his lips.

“you want me forreal.”

“are you kidding me? right now?” you can't believe he's saying that after you just came so hard. but maybe it’s because of the orgasm, because instead of getting annoyed, you find yourself laughing a little.

“you came so much so i—” you cut him off with a kiss, your lips crashing onto his as you taste yourself, sucking on his tongue to shut him up.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours.

“what's next, darling?”

───────── the floor ─────────

“t-that tickles,” you giggle when you feel jungkook softly rubbing your waist while his tongue laps at your right nipple.

“my tongue?” he asks, his eyes looking up at you as he moves to kiss your left nipple. you're both sprawled on the floor, his hands moving up and down your body as he hovers over you.

“your hands,” you gasp softly, taking in the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

“mmh,” he hums as his hands slide up, grabbing both of your breasts, squeezing them gently. you arch your back slightly when he squeezes them together, and he buries his face between them, licking and nipping at the soft flesh.

“can i suck your dick?” you say quickly, almost before thinking, and it makes jungkook pull back, looking at you in surprise. he clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“you wanna?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“why do you look so surprised? never got your dick sucked before?” you joke, a grin forming on your lips as you see the stunned look on his face.

he rolls his eyes at you, his lips curving into a smirk. it's funny because it's usually you who’s rolling your eyes at him.

“just making sure,”

───────── the couch ─────────

“y-you're doing so good, f-fuck,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you choke and drool on his cock. you're on your knees, gripping his thighs while he sits naked on the couch, his cock in your mouth.

his head falls back as he moans, and he bucks his hips up just slightly, pushing deeper into your throat.

he fucking loves this.

“mmfph-” you let out a muffled sound as your eyes start to water. he looks down at you, taking in the sight of you on your knees for him, your lips stretched around his length. reaching out, he wipes away a tear, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek, his touch oddly tender given the situation.

“that's it, darling. you're being such a good girl,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath but enough for you to hear. “sucking my cock and looking at me like that... you look so fucking pretty.”

you pull back just slightly, taking a quick breath before diving right back in. your head bobs up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, taking him as deep as you can. each time you do, he lets out a low groan, his abs tightening.

“oh fuck, i'm close,” he grunts, his grip on your hair loosening and you pull back.

“can i-” he starts to ask, but you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and he curses under his breath.

he strokes himself a few times, his breath hitching, and then he releases, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your tongue. you keep your mouth open, letting him see before swallowing it all, licking him clean until there's nothing left. once you're done, you pull away, giving him a proud smile.

he chuckles, shaking his head slightly, clearly amused by your behavior.

“you're not what i expected,”

───────── bed ─────────

“did you fuck anyone here before?” you ask as you look at jungkook between your legs. your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and your back pressed against the softness of his bed.

“no,” he says simply as he reaches over to grab a condom. “i don't bring girls here.”

“why not?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“because i'm never alone,” he explains, tearing the packet open with ease.

“but we're alone right now,” you point out, watching every one of his movements.

“i was supposed to go out with hoseok and the others, but i was tired, remember? so i stayed in. and honestly, i'm glad i did that.” he rolls the condom onto his length.

you smack his shoulder playfully, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“now, are you really sure about this?” he asks, his hands gently gripping your hips, holding you steady.

“for the tenth time, yes, i am,” you respond, “like i said, it’s a one-time thing,” you remind him.

he gives a small nod, then grabs his cock, rubbing the tip along your wet folds, making you whimper at the feeling.

“just fucking put it in,” you breathe out,

he grins, leaning down just a bit closer. “say please, darling,”

“if you think i’m gonna beg for it, think again,” you say, your eyes narrowing at him.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so bossy,” he mutters, and then, without further delay, he pushes his cock into you.

“f-fuck..” you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him stretching you. the fullness is almost overwhelming, but there's a hint of pleasure there, building slowly.

he pauses for a moment, his gaze searching your face. “you okay, darling?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“y-yeah,” you manage to say, breathing heavily. “it feels... bigger than i expected,” you admit, your cheeks flushing slightly.

his grin widens at that, and he starts to move, thrusting in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm. normally, you'd have some sassy comeback for that look on his face, but right now, it feels too good to say anything at all.

no wonder women love him.

you came once.

“fuck— nngh y-yes!!” you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming as your body trembles around him.

“oh my go— i am— fuck!” jungkook moans, his head falling back onto the pillow as you ride him, your hips bouncing on his cock.

twice.

“you like that, hm? you like getting your pussy fucked from behind?” his voice is a growl as he grips your ass, pounding into you relentlessly. you’re on all fours, your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. tears well up at the edges of your eyes, the pleasure bordering on too much, but you don’t want him to stop.

make it a third time.

“fuck..”

jungkook groans as he collapses onto the bed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes closed. exhaustion drips from his voice as he mumbles, “you’re such a freak.”

you sit beside him, still naked, your fingers lightly tracing patterns over his chest. “one more round?” you suggest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, right.”

you tilt your head, raising a brow at him, your expression almost challenging.

his eyes widen just a bit. “oh, you’re serious?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

you nod, shrugging slightly. “how are you not tired?” he breathes out, his voice laced with disbelief.

“i can take some more, i guess,” you say casually, though the glint in your eyes betrays your eagerness.

“i am sorry to disappoint, darling, but i think i am done for tonight.” he lets out a tired sigh, and he sees you pout.

“woah,” he murmurs, watching the way your lips form into a cute little pout. it’s endearing. he’s seen so many sides of you tonight—and now... this.

cute and.. whiny?

“pleaseee, jungkook, one more time!!” you whine, your voice soft and pleading, making his heart skip a beat.

he blinks, like he’s just seeing a new part of you, something he never expected. maybe it’s the endorphins, or just the moment—whatever it is, this side of you is cute, almost innocent in your need.

he likes it.

“how about this,” he says, a grin forming on his lips, “we take a shower, and maybe we can go for another round there, hm?”

“shower sex?” you ask.

he nods.

“no, it’s unsafe,” you respond immediately, shaking your head.

he sighs dramatically, his grin widening. “well then, no more sex for tonight,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “maybe some other night.”

you roll your eyes, huffing. “you wish”

he chuckles, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close.

“i do.”

a/n: i hope it's not too confusing 😣

[milflewis]

[this is the void]

[beiasluv]

— op81, cs55, cl16, ls2

a/n: spent so long on the graphic 💀

yourinsta

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yourinsta call me pitbull cuz I’m mr worldwide 🤫 (+🇦🇺🇪🇸🇲🇨🇺🇸)

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landonorris coppiers

yourinsta you’re my og 🫶

landonorris just og? 😔

username I swear if oscar gives us nothinggg

username MY BABY IS SHY OKAY?

username GOOD DAY TO BE A LOGAN SARGEANT FAN 🦅🦅🦅🦅

username I could only pray the Spanish flag is for Fernando 😩

— oscar piastri

Nervously sipping on his emotional support orange juice. Maybe too much nervous sipping.

“So, what’s your type?”

“My girlfriend?”

“Tell her she’s mine too.”

“WOw, will do.”

Cheeks turning red, munching on the fries like a little chipmunk he is.

“I mean– I have three sisters so…”

“That’s a green flag.”

“Thank you?” a piece of chicken in, a smile comes out. “That’s it?”

“Maybe if he’s…Australian, maybe.” you shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“And if he’s…wait. what sign are you?”

“Don’t know..I think it’s kinda nonsense.”

“That’s a red flag.”

“Sorry?” cheeky.

The orange juice was left unattended for a minute. Good sign. Chuckles were still evident.

“Let’s get serious here…” shifting in your seat.

“Yeah.”

“You drive for a living?”

“Yeah, I go around in circles ‘nd stuff,” juice pause. “I could drive you around Melbourne..if you’d want to–”

“And you’ll take me back by eight? Maybe offering your hand as well?”

“Yeah,” squinting face. “I could do that.”

“Lovely.”

— carlos sainz

Does that thing with his eyes, bending down to take the fries in…while keeping an intense eye contact.

“Smooth operator, you like that song?”

“Everyone favorite song no?”

“Hard choice.” pausing your fries mid air. “Spanish songs that I have no idea what they’re talking about could be up there.”

“Really? Tell me one.”

“The one from fast and furious.”

“A lot of them,” throwing his head back. “Can you sing it for me?”

“Asking for me to sing already. You’re in a hurry Carlos?” a sip of your Diet Coke. “Fast Five?”

“Eh..Danza Kuduro?”

“How could I know?” you shrugged. “What’s the song about anyways?”

“Something like…dancing…er…with tight ass.”

“Make sense.”

Looking confused as ever with that big, brown eyes. Mouth agape and shut every time few seconds, curling into a smile most of the time.

“So you’re still looking for job next year?”

“Huh?”

“Lewis Hamilton? Looking for job?”

“Eh..” leaned back in his seat. “Could be. Are you offering?”

“I’m a pretty busy girl..”

“Really? How busy?”

“So you’re up for it? That’s fast.”

“I’ll have to talk to my manager,” raising his eyebrow. “What is your requirement?”

“A Ferrari driver.”

“Sure.”

— charles leclerc

Trying to not laugh his ass off every five seconds or just completely blanks out. Chicken tasted good though.

“Charles, I have to ask you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“How do you pronounce your last name?”

“I don’t..I don’t care, really.” Shrugging his shoulders. “Charles. Le. Clare.”

“Hm…maybe just use my last name instead, it’s easier.”

“I– yeah?”

“What?”

His chicken was pretty cleaned up the first few minutes. Plenty of confused chuckles.

“Do you think you are a committed person?”

“I…I…it’s a hard question no?” he put his hand together, in an Italian – sorry, Monegasque way. “I like to say I am.”

“I could tell.”

“Really? How?”

“Your contract with Ferrari.”

— logan sargeant

He was used to burger and fries but maybe he could just tolerate chicken and fries for your pretty company.

“What’s your ideal date?”

“Hm..definitely chicken shop dates.”

“Really? Where’s best chicken you ever had then?”

“This one.”

“That’s not an option.”

Subtle stares here and there, his cheeks might be hurting from all the grinning though.

“What’s your ideal type?” munching his ketchup-ed fries.

“So you don’t do researches.”

“I am now.”

“You know…starting to have a thing for Americans. You have any recommendations?”

“You could start by going fishing in the Keys with me,” stretched his arms.

“I’m not into fishy things.”

“Just boat rides?”

“I could do that.”

Coke break.

“Your thoughts on frat boys?”

“They’re fine,” he shrugged.

“And you’re not like a..secret member? Is it like a One Direction..thing?”

“Maybe better looking?” smirked. “I could see myself being one if I wasn’t racing.”

“Dreams do come true, Sargeant.”

“Ouch,” clutching his chest. “Ah– well– Maybe this other dream could come true as well?”

“You being better looking than One Direction?”

tell me who should be in chicken shop dateee 😩😩

– @namgification @jsjcue @c-losur3

Today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[nyctoaerah]

yandere satosugu x female reader? can you do jealousy headcanons (like what makes them jealous and/or what they do when they get jealous)? sorry if that wasn’t specific enough!

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere behavior (duh) murder, possessiveness, gore. (Ooc maybe) satoru being an oa little shit. Poly relationship.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Satosugu x Fem! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: WHAHAHA i didn’t knew if you wanted it to be separate or not anon, you said satosugu so i immediately assumed that it was a threesome. But heree, some hc’s:33 sorry pookie, i got lazy on suguru’s part:< SJAKEKSKA i did this first cause hc’s are the easiest to write💀💀💀

Masterlist

🔪Satoru struggles with pervasive jealousy issues, particularly when it comes to you and Suguru.

🔪This dude is like the embodiment of jealousy. he’s so envious he’s practically green with it. Hell he’s even jealous of himself. There was this one time he bet he could pull off dressing up as a girl for a dare, and oh boy, did he go all out. But then he got all pouty when you gushed all over him and got all touchy, something that you don’t really do often. And his reason of getting jealous with himself? He thought that you prefer him as a girl, like hello? you were supposed to prefer the original satoru and not his genderbent!

🔪But seriously, this guy’s jealousy knows no bounds. If Suguru flashes a flirty grin at someone else, bam, jealousy strikes. And if you dare compliment another soul? Jealousy overload. You hugged another man that isn’t suguru? He’s trying to force himself not to throw hands. This dude craves all the attention, all the affection, like a toddler hoarding toys in a playgroup. He’s aware he’s selfish, probably knows it’s not the best look, but he’s powerless against the possessiveness that overtakes him when it comes to you and Suguru. You both have this unique power to bring out the best and worst in him, after all, you two were the only one who sees him as “Satoru” and not as the “Strongest.”

🔪Satoru’s neurotic tendencies and jealousy issues stemmed from his messed-up childhood. The poor guy got stripped of his carefree youth and was thrust into the adult world way before his time after all. the jealousy bug bit him hard when he saw other kids having the time of their lives, while he was stuck with grown-ups fawning over him and expecting way too much and pressuring him. That childhood envy stuck to him like glue, and it grew into a full-blown mess when you, him, and Suguru became an item.

🔪The thing that grinds Satoru’s gears the most and the absolute worst, is when you and Suguru says something about other people’s eyes like; “Their eyes is so pretty” Blah, blah, blah, bullshit like that. It kills him inside that you don’t shower the same love on his eyes. His eyes are prettier, more powerful, and literally very unique, and you hardly ever mention how beautiful it is.

🔪Satoru absolutely loathes it when you’re completely oblivious to someone flirting with you. He’ll shoot menacing glares at the culprit when you’re not paying attention, as if daring them to keep it up, and he would end up threatening them.

🔪Satoru doesn’t bother in hiding his emotions, he’ll whimper, pout, and stick to you and Suguru like glue. And would play the melodramatic card, guilt tripping you. Or he’ll just straight up threaten you or tell suguru about how naughty you are.

🔪🔪🔪

Satoru’s head rested delicately upon your lap as your dexterous fingers ran through his snow white tresses. He gazed at you upward, sky blue eyes peeking from beneath his snowy eyelashes.

“Can you give me your phone for a minute baby? I just wanna do something”

Without pause for consideration, you obliged his request and gave the phone into his outstretched hand.

“Yeah, sure, here.” You responded with a hum.

“What are you gonna do with it, anyways?” You questioned, before your eyes widened as you saw how satoru’s digits hastened across the interface, focused intently on blocking specific contacts from further reaching your line.

“Huh, ‘Toru, what the hell?”

“Wait—why are you blocking them? Those are my—” Your words faded as Satoru lifted his head from your lap and moves away from you, his piercing gaze fixed on yours as he gently grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“Why do you always insist on conversing with them, hmm? Do you like them?”

“What— no! It’s not like that, what the fuck?”

“If you really love me and Suguru, then you have to sever ties with that girl/guy and keep your distance, okay?”

🔪Suguru really isn’t the jealous type, because he’s all about trust and loyalty when it comes to you and Satoru—He trusts you two.

🔪But, every now and then, a feeling of jealousy creep up inside him when he sees you and Satoru hanging out and having fun without him. He tries to brush it off though, understanding that you two are really close. He just wants to see his pretty lovers smiling, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

🔪When Suguru starts feeling jealous, it’s not a pretty sight. Beneath that kind and laid-back exterior lies a man who doesn’t really forgive that much. Suguru doesn’t forgive, and he doesn’t forget.

🔪Suguru may be a master at concealing his jealousy, but when it does surface, it’s like a storm crashing down. Picture this: you innocently text someone he’s really jealous of, and before you know it, your phone is pulled from your hands and tossed across the room while he summons a cursed spirit to destroy it completely, only to be replaced with a brand-new one moments later. Oh, and that person you were casually chatting with? It’s either you can consider them ghosted or consider them dead.

🔪Mentioning your ex around him was a big no-no. Because it immediately triggers him. can’t you just keep the spotlight on him and Satoru? One tiny mention of your ex’s name or Satoru reminiscing about his past flings, and Suguru’s mood immediately becomes sour.

🔪In stark comparison to Satoru, Suguru remains nonchalant about compliments being thrown around. He’s all for lifting people up until those compliments take a flirtatious turn. If that line is crossed, however, his cursed spirits will have its new meal.

🔪If Suguru was jealous and it led to an argument between you two, he would turn on his ultimate weapon—the silent treatment. He’d nonchalantly start hanging out with other people, making sure you noticed just to annoy you and make you jealous. He was well aware of his petty tendencies, but deep down, he simply wished for you to drop the bratty act and apologize.

🔪If you don’t really apologize and just pushed him over the edge... Well, you’ll have to say goodbye to your sanity because suguru is brutal as fuck when it comes to giving punishment.

🔪Unlike Satoru, who would guilt trip and manipulate you, Suguru would take it up a notch on the intensity scale. He wouldn’t shy away from using violence after all. And that doesn’t only apply to the person that he’s envious of, that applies to you too, and satoru. But that’s the difference, Satoru is a good boy, and you’re not.

🔪Suguru would be more than glad to kill someone in front of you and force you to watch it after all. He’ll hurt you too if you thrash and scream instead of being a good girl.

And you can’t really escape the both of them, after all, their love is like a noose.♡

🔪🔪🔪

Suguru’s hand forcefully clamped over your quivering lips, stifling any cries that tried to escape. His breath was hot against your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh with an iron grip, rendering you immobile. The metallic tang of blood invaded your nostrils. Your eyes were wide with terror, pupils shrinking, and your pulse quickening. A sickening view of gore played out before your horrified gaze, crimson splattering the walls, each nauseating squelch echoing through the room.

“I told you to stay away from them and you didn’t listen...” Suguru whispers, his breath hot against your neck, his delicate mouth parting to suck hard upon your pulsing skin, his mouth works its way slowly along your skin. And you shudder involuntarily beneath his touch, fear coursing through you as his lips close around a patch of flesh, sucking hard.

“See...? This is what happens when you disobey.”

The sharp prick of his teeth sends bolts of pain ricocheting through your body. Your already unsettled stomach lurches violently at the sight that greets you as you raise your head, struggling against his grip.

Before you, bound fast to a wooden chair, was the friend you had jokingly flirted with. Tears stream unchecked down their pallid cheeks, mingling with traces of dried blood, as their cries continue to ring in your ears.

Every limb was callously severed, Their bones was protruding out—the metacarpal bones, the carpal bones, the humerus, the ulna, the fibula, and other bones,  Their arms and legs are covered in long, vivid scarlet lines that are three inches wide, intersecting each other in a crisscross pattern and the wounds appear to have breached the surface of their skin, While suguru’s cursed spirits feeds on their severed flesh.

With a low, self-satisfied hum, Satoru drags the tip of the scalpel upwards your friend’s cheek, cutting them and the skin opens, revealing their inner facial muscle. He then reaches out to grasp a fistful of your friend’s hair, yanking their head back sharply to force clouded eyes up to meet your own.

“Suguruuuu, what do i do next? Do we gouge their eyes out for looking at our pretty girl that way?” 

“Do it. She said that she likes their eyes anyways... She’s probably implying that she prefers their eyes over yours.” Suguru smirks, humming as he pressed his body against yours, enjoying the way satoru’s face suddenly fell.

“Haah... Looks like i’ll be enjoying gouging their eyes then.”

[sturniluvr]

All of me, loves all of you

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: possible spelling mistakes, some language, hate comments, nothing else lmk if I missed anything

summary: you’ve always been told in your life by multiple people that you’re always either too loud or too quiet and it’s one of your biggest insecurities but happens to be your boyfriend’s favourite thing about you.

A/N: sorta inspired by @obsidianbaby fic with a little twist and hers is a Chris version. Here it is if you want to check it out. Listen to John Legend ‘all of me’ while reading if you want <3

❗️semi proof read❗️

You were on sat on the couch as the triplets rushed around the house getting the equipment they needed to film the car video, all they had left to find was a battery because Nick once again forgot to charge the battery so they had to find a charged one to replace the dead battery before filming whilst also waiting for their food to arrive.  

“Y/N are you joining us for the video? Or can I be Matt’s passenger princess?” Chris joked as he made his way past her towards the kitchen to check their junk drawer for the spare battery.  

“Fuck where is it?” He muttered to himself as he rummaged through the drawer, unsuccessful in finding what he was looking for. The younger woman didn’t acknowledge her best friend at first, her head being buried in her phone, more specifically, looking at the comments on last Friday’s car video where she was having one of her more quiet days and the comments surely picked up on the sudden mood change compared to her yapping in the Wednesday video prior to the Friday car video. 

‘She needs to make up her mind, either be loud or be quiet Jesus Christ’ 

‘How do they put up with her? She’s so annoying’ 

‘Y/N needs to be more entertaining omg😭’ 

‘One day she’s quiet the next she won’t stfu, must be so annoying to the triplets, how do they like her??? Especially Matt??? Poor guy’ 

‘She’s such a weirdo, either being way too loud or way too quiet💀’ 

‘Y/N?? You with me kid?” Chris waved his hand in front of her face to grab her attention. 

“Hmm? Sorry Chris what did you say?” She replied to the older boy. As he was about to reply, the doorbell rang signaling the food had arrived, Matt came from his bedroom and made his way down the stairs to open the door and get the food, thanking the delivery driver as he closed the door. He came back up the stairs and placed the bag of McDonald’s on the kitchen table, sorting out who’s is who’s. 

“I was asking if you were coming to film with us?” she shook her head in response. 

“No, I’ll sit this one out, I think. Maybe just watch a film or have a shower and an early night.” 

Matt’s head turned in the direction of his girlfriend and brother as soon as he heard the words leave Y/N’s mouth, immediately sensing something was wrong. 

“You okay baby? You feeling good?” He asked, concern written all over his features, Matt made his way over to the Y/H/C girl with her usual McDonalds order of 9 chicken nuggets, medium fries and a peach iced tea. He placed her food on the table in front of her and quickly raised the back of his hand to her forehead, her temperature seemed fine to him. 

“Yeah, I’m okay Matt, I promise, I’m just tired you know I’ve had a busy day.” She explained, looking up at her boyfriend with a not very convincing smile on her face, not convincing to Matt anyway, he could read her like a book. 

Nick had found the battery, and the camera was now ready to set up in the car. 

“You coming you two?” He calls out to the couple while grabbing his food off the kitchen table. Chris doing the same and stood with the oldest triplet waiting for an answer. 

“Give us a minute Nick, you and Chris head to the car.” Matt replied, throwing his car keys in the direction of Chris which he smoothly caught. The brothers made their way downstairs to the garage to unlock the car. In the living room, Matt was now sat next to Y/N on the couch. He noticed a stray tear make it’s way down her cheek.

“Baby please just tell me what’s bothering you. It can’t be silly if it’s making you cry.” he stated as he wiped the stray tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. He looked over to her unlocked phone that had since been discarded on the table, he removed his hands from her face and picked her phone up, raising his eyebrows as if asking permission to look through the phone. She nodded in silent understanding. He looked at the illuminated screen and a frown immediately made its way onto his face, followed by a glare at some of the comments that his so called fans had left about the love of his life. 

“They hate me.” Y/N said dejectedly, biting her nails anxiously as Matt continued to read the comments. Matt sighed before he replied. 

“Oh baby. A few comments mean nothing okay my love, what matters is what you think and what I think, and I think you’re amazing just the way you are.” 

“But Matt it’s not just a few comments! It’s every other comment, either saying you must be annoyed by me, or I don’t deserve you or that I’m a weirdo all because I’m always either too loud or too quiet! I’ve always been made fun of because of it!” She replied frustrated, tears beginning to well up in her eyes yet again.  

Suddenly Matt placed her phone face down on the couch and grabbed her hand before leading her to his bathroom. He switched the light on and placed her in front of the mirror and rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“See this woman in the mirror? She is the most perfect woman I have ever met, every little detail of her, from her freckles to her personality makes her even more perfect to me and I fall more in love with her every day.” He placed a trail of kisses leading from her shoulder up to her cheek before he loosened his hold on her waist to turn her so she was facing him before continuing.  

“Darling, you can’t let the things people who hide behind their screens tell you define you okay? It would break my heart to see their nasty words dim my princess’ light, okay? You are perfect to me, and that’s all that matters, okay? Not some bullshit random people on the internet say, they’re just jealous 12 year olds.” He joked, lightening the mood, causing a small smile to creep up on her face, he smiled at the sight.  

“There’s my favorite smile!” He exclaimed.  

He cupped her cheeks before speaking again.  

“Love, you have to remember if you ever feel like this again, is all of me loves all of you, okay? Always has and always will, you’re my favorite person and you being both loud and quiet balances me out perfectly, if I need a quiet and safe place you give that to me, or if I need to let off energy and be crazy, you go on all kinds of crazy adventures with me. I couldn’t be more thankful for you. I love you so much my angel.” 

“I love you too my love” she replied, happy tears now in her eyes as opposed to the sad and frustrated tears in her eyes not even 20 minutes ago. 

“What do you say, we go film the video with Nick and Chris, I want the better passenger princess next to me and not the one who burps 24/7 and looks like me” he joked, she let out a laugh at her boyfriend. 

“Sure, let’s go film. I wanna grab my food first though.” He nodded and the couple made their way into the living room to grab Y/N’s food before making their way down to the garage where they heard Nick and Chris arguing over something ridiculous, they both laughed at the pair. The two in the car noticed the couple stood in the doorway making their way to the car. Y/N got in the car while Matt remained outside, focusing the camera. Y/N threw a thumbs up to Matt as the camera was set up right. Chris gave Y/N a quick hug from the back seat before he spoke. 

“You good now kid?” He asked, she nodded and smiled back at him as Matt got in the car and pressed record. The four filming the video full of laughs and debates. Matt added in a little rant to the viewers on being nicer to Y/N and from that point forward, the hate comments had died down to the odd few from jealous fan girls. 

[lovelivision]

SLEEP OVER PT.1

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 2.3k

summary: staying the night at your boyfriends place for the first time is nervewracking, especially when he seems to feel a certain way about you wearing his clothes

a/n; dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf...uhm anyways...i lurv toji a lot and i needed to write something for him, i thought it would fix me but it may have made me worse :D also, i would like to write a part 2 for this maybe :3

warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, tiny bit of possessiveness, (minor) size difference kink, heavy petting, dry humping, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, nicknames used; doll, ma'am (once in a joking way)

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Hovering in Toji’s kitchen, you try to make yourself seem more relaxed, you’ve been in his house plenty of times now but this time is different. This is the first time you’re staying the night, alone, in his house, with him.

Besides heavy petting, nothing more has ever happened between the two of you, to say you have expectations is an understatement. It doesn’t have to happen but you’ve been together for a little bit now and there’s only so long you can hold out, you mean, have you seen Toji?

He’s been patient, you were initially the one who said you didn’t want to rush things, you were scared of just being a lay and asked him to wait until you felt ready, which he has respected. He’s respected it…too well, barely making out before he’s parting from you. The sexual frustration you’ve been feeling has you wound so tight that you might literally implode as soon as he touches you.

From across the counter separating you, he teases, “You gonna help me over here? Or did you propose baking together just to watch me do it for you?”

“Well… I am enjoying the view,” you flirt back, playing off the stiffness in your joints.

He raises a brow at you, “How about you flirt with me while whisking that bowl right there,” he nods down to the bowl just off to his side.

“Yessir,” you stand at attention and throw a little salute his way.

When you round the bench to stand next to him, he bumps into your shoulder with his own, “You feeling okay, doll?”

You hum and look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, aside from small talk and teasing remarks made while you finish prepping the ingredients. You told him that sleepovers needed brownies and he went out and bought stuff to make them, it was incredibly sweet and made you almost swoon on the spot when you showed up and he told you what he’d done.

Unluckily for you and your clumsy nature, his sink sprays a bunch of water down your front as you’re washing a dish. You let out an unceremonious squeaking sound at the sudden rush of cold running all the way down your pyjama shirt, to your pants.

The bowl Toji was holding clatters a bit as he drops it to be at your side, “What happened?” He asks before seeing your drenched clothes, an amused smile taking place where his concern was sitting, “You’re not much help in the kitchen, huh?”

“Hey!” you frown at him, “I am perfectly helpful, thank you very much. It’s not my fault your sink hates me.” You feel like a wet cat under his gaze, “What am I meant to do now? These are the only pyjamas I bought with me,” you pout slightly, looking down at your ruined clothes.

“Just wear something of mine,” he shrugs easily.

The idea of wearing his comfortable clothes makes your skin buzz, “Okay… thank you,” you mumble at him.

He scoffs at your sudden coyness, “You want me to pick something out for you or do you got it?”

“No, I got it,” you smile at him before turning to wander through the house to his room.

Shuffling through his drawers, you find a shirt and some sweatpants to wear. They’re large on you, the whole look incredibly baggy, having to pull the drawstrings on his sweats a bit tighter to make sure they stay up. You feel better though, warm, you hope he won’t mind but you had to borrow a pair of his boxers as well…

When you walk back into the kitchen, Toji does a double take on you, his eyes widening slightly, “You comfy?”

“Very,” you walk up to him, “You finish with the brownie mix?”

He stares at you for a moment before replying, “…Yeah, they’re in the oven.”

“Nice, putting the mix in the tray is my least favourite part, it’s always so sticky and messy and I end up getting frustrated because it won’t all go in and then I need another spoon to get the mix off the spatula and then I have to go back and forth…” You trail off, noticing he’s not really paying attention to what you’re saying, he is looking at you though, “Toji, Something wrong?”

He considers you for a moment, “You look cute,” is all he says.

You feel shy under his gaze now, not expecting him to compliment you so sincerely, “So do you?”

He barks a laugh at your clumsy compliment, “Alright, wanna watch something while we wait?” He changes the topic.

“Sure!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles but just because he’s not subtle doesn’t mean it’s not working. The tv plays some movie in front of the pair of you but you can’t pay attention, you’ve not retained a single plot point, his warm hand on your thigh is all you can feel, all you can register.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to be the one to break this, the weird limbo you’re both in. Turning your head to the side and looking up, you aren’t ready for how he’s already looking down at you, his hand on your thigh reaches for the side of your face, cradling you gently. He moves in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back in protest if you don’t want him to kiss you.

You want it though and lean up the rest of the way, kissing him deeply, wanting to put your lips on him for nearly the whole time you’ve been here. He meets your eagerness, his hand holding you more firmly, his tongue licking into your mouth, wanting to taste you. His body moves into yours more, his other hand grabbing at your hip.

His kisses grow rushed and he ends up trailing them to your neck, kissing and licking along the exposed skin there. The hand on your face angles you to his will, manoeuvring you every which way so he can get his lips on whatever part of you he desires.

Huffed out whine leave you at the way he nips at your skin, he has enough of the odd angle and pulls you onto his lap completely, sitting back as his hands roam your body over his clothes.

“Toji,” you whine out his name.

His eyes look into yours, “Do you need me to stop?”

Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I need more…”

“You really do look cute in my clothes,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing a full kiss to your lips, “You look comfortable… all wrapped up in my clothes.” He reiterates that they are in fact his clothes you’re wearing.

His hands move under the large shirt, groping at your bare skin, delighting in the warmth and plushness of you. Your body breaks out in goose bumps as a noticeable shiver runs down your spine, his touch electrifying to you.

“My, how sensitive you are,” he teases you, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face.

“Shut up,” you snark back, “Just… kiss me again?”

His smile grows, “Yes ma’am,” he jokes before kissing you again.

You’re getting lost in it, in the feel of his lips on yours, it’s making you dizzy and needy. Your hips grind down into his on their own accord and Toji moans against you, surprised by the sudden friction. Recovering quickly, his hands grab your hips and encourage you to keep going, your clothed cunt dragging up and down his covered cock has spots in your vision.

Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt tight, your lips disconnecting from his every time you moan, only for him to press them back together. His dick twitches in his pants, painfully erect and sensitive, he has a feeling he could cum like this.

This is the furthest the two of you have gone so far and he’s not wasting this opportunity, he needs to see you cum, he needs to hear it. The grip he has on you is harsh, his hips rut up into yours which results in the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard coming from you… he needs more.  

Pulling back, you whinge, “Toji~ I wan– t more… I want more.”

“Well… I want you to cum while wearing my clothes,” he counters.

You gasp at his blunt words, “I–”

You don’t get the chance to finish your thought, his hips thrusting up, the shock delicious. His dick is leaking profusely in his pants, he’s way too sensitive right now, for his grown age. You’d asked to go slow and he complied but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to furiously jerk himself off after your visits.

Toji’s boxers are uncomfortably wet against your core, slick and stuck to your pussy with how worked up he’s gotten you. All the layers are upsetting you; you just want one less layer, his pants, your pants, you don’t care, you just need more.

“Toji, lemme take off the sweats, please, please, please,” you all but beg at him.

“No. Told you,” he scolds, “I want you cumming in my clothes.”

“Mmm but…” You hesitate.

You’ve caught his interest, quirking a brow at you, he asks, “But what?”

You decide to tell him even though you’re a little embarrassed, “I’m also wearing your boxers.”

He holds you still against him, a sound of objection coming from you at the lack of friction, “You’re wearing my boxers?”

You nod quickly, hoping for this line of questioning to be done soon, “I am.”

“Why?”

You look down, to where you’re sat on top of him, his large cock strained against his pants, you falter slightly in your answer, distracted. Toji’s hand tapping against your thigh brings you back, “Mine were wet from the sink…”

He tugs at the sweats, “Take these off, right now.”

Standing on wobbly legs, you undo the drawstring on his pants and slip them down.

Toji groans at the sight of your bare legs, “Lift up my shirt,” he directs.

Which you do, biting your lip, trying to fight off the urge to run away in embarrassment. Your hands hold his shirt up slightly, exposing to him how you’re wearing his boxers.

His eyes scan your lower half carefully, his heart stuttering in is chest. His light grey boxers dark where your arousal has pooled, “Fuck, come here,” he pats his lap, grabbing you when you’re close enough. “You’re so fucking wet, doll, shit.”

When you’re back on his lap, he wastes no time, his cock rubs between your folds, parting them from under his boxers, the friction different and consuming. This feels so much better than before, it feels almost intense after getting minimal sensation.

“Toji~ I don’t think I’ll last long like this,” you admit, feeling shame from how pathetic you must seem.

“Good,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into yours while his hands drag you back and forth on his cock, “I won’t either.”

To hear he’s just as effected by this as you are makes your cunt pulse around nothing, a whimper leaving you from how pathetically empty you feel, “I still want more,” you pout.

“Later,” he promises.

Your skin buzzes and your stomach clenches, your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling impossibly close to finishing. Your eyes grow dazed, hot, huffed breaths leaving your parted lips. The sight has Toji’s cock twitching profusely, barely fighting off his orgasm, wanting to see you cum first.

“Come on, doll, I need to see it,” he tugs you quicker, your slick cunt sliding easily against his pants, the wetness seeping through the boxers onto them, “I need to see you cum for me.”

You shudder at his words, “I’m gonna–”

One of his hands leave your hip and slides to your face, his thumb pressing past your lips, you take it and suck on it, tongue licking the pad of it gently. A moan from deep in his chest rumbles under your hands, it’s all too much. Your cunt flutters against him and your eyes roll back, moans muffled around his thumb as your cum gushes from your pussy, coating his boxers even more.

Toji can’t help but watch, he’s watching you so closely, his cock cumming very suddenly. Your orgasm, the dumb look in your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, the shake in your body as you cum in his clothes undoes him. His own cum seeps into his pants, a large, wet stain growing on his sweats as his dick jerks with his orgasm.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging your lower lip down with it, “Fuck,” he bites out.

He rides out both your highs, lightly grinding his hips up into you as you both come down. Your form collapses into him, curling yourself around him. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you jolt every now and again, it’s cute, he thinks.

You lay peacefully like this for a moment before you remember, “The brownies,” you try to pull yourself away from him.

“They’re fine, oven went off only a moment ago,” he hums.

“I’ll go grab them then,” you say.

“Alright, shaky, off you go,” he mocks you and your jelly legs.

Pulling back, you frown at him, “I will.”

He just smiles knowingly at you.

Crawling off him carefully, you stand on your shaky legs momentarily before sitting back down on the couch next to him, “Maybe you should go get them.”

“Mhm,” he answers, leaning over he presses a kiss to your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him, pretending to be more upset than you actually are.

Toji goes into the kitchen and pulls the brownies out, he calls over to you, “So… I hope you like the corners of your brownies a little crispy.”

You can’t help but laugh at that.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[mercillery]

ASL BROTHERS WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Ace + Sabo

NOTES: Do Luffy haters exist? It’s a dumb question, yes—but I’m genuinely curious. He’s so cute and dumb, I find it hard to not love him.

LUFFY

Luffy wouldn’t really “get” shyness in the conventional sense. But here’s the thing about Luffy: he’s all about accepting people as they are, no questions asked. He treats you with the same bright-eyed, wide-grinned enthusiasm he shows everyone. The idea of you needing to be more outgoing wouldn’t even cross his mind because, to him, you’re already perfect as you are. Shyness? Never heard of it. Just pass the meat, please.

Now, Luffy’s approach to social interactions is, well, 100% Luffy. He doesn’t really adapt his wild and carefree style to match anyone else’s comfort levels. If you're quiet and reserved, that’s cool—Luffy just goes on living life at full volume like it’s another Tuesday on the Sunny.

At first, you might be left wondering how in the seven seas you’re going to survive the endless hurricane of chaos that follows this rubbery captain around. But soon, and without realizing it, you start to find that his reckless antics and headfirst approach to life are... kind of charming. Sure, it’s like living next door to a tornado, but it’s a tornado that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and never lets you get too deep into your own thoughts.

What’s funny is that while he doesn’t actively try to make you feel more comfortable, he ends up doing it anyway. It’s his Luffy magic. You find yourself smiling more often, your shyness loosening its grip bit by bit as he does dumb stuff and throws himself into trouble that only Luffy would consider fun.

He’ll walk up to you, grin stretching from ear to ear, holding out some bizarre, questionably edible snack and say, “You gotta try this!” And just like that, the nerves you felt melt away—not because he’s making an effort to make you feel at ease, but simply because he’s himself.

And sure, sometimes his energy is a lot. We’re talking sprinting-across-decks, yelling-about-meat kind of “a lot.” But in the middle of all that noise, you come to realize that you feel safer and more at ease when you’re around him. Why? Because Luffy has this way of making everything fun and natural, and soon enough, that includes you too.

Before long, your shyness isn’t something you worry about around him; it’s just another thing Luffy accepts without blinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And in his eyes? It is.

It’s cute because you two really are like the sun and the moon, with Luffy as the blazing, never-stopping sun, and you being the more reserved, quiet moon. It’s like a cosmic duo—he’s all light and energy, and you’re the calm, cool reflection of it all. You balance each other out in the weirdest, most wonderful way.

And when people catch wind of the fact that Luffy is dating someone—let alone someone as shy as you—it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes bug out of their head. Yeah, they’re not wrong to be surprised, but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s already busy thinking about what’s next on the agenda, probably involving meat or some kind of treasure hunt.

Luffy is anything but shy. He could probably talk to a rock and think it’s the best conversation he’s had all day. So when it comes to affection, he’s not exactly one to shy away from it. He might not be the clingiest partner out there—he’s not going to be hanging off you like a koala (okay, maybe sometimes)—but you can bet he’s there, always.

Whether it’s randomly giving you a hug in or tossing his arm around your shoulder like it’s no big deal, he’s just Luffy—and that means showing affection wherever and whenever he feels like it, no matter who’s watching. Basically, he’s like a “here’s my arm, it’s yours now” kind of guy.

While Luffy doesn’t exactly get what makes you shy, he’s surprisingly good at picking up on your feelings. If you’re feeling anxious, or if you’re shrinking back into your shell a little bit, Luffy has this unbelievable ability to sense when you need a change of pace. Without even thinking about it, he’ll grab your hand and drag you off on some wild adventure, just to get your mind off things.

He doesn’t even need a reason—he just knows that you could use a distraction, and he’s the perfect person to provide it. Besides, that just gives him more time to spend with you! And, of course, he might offer you one of his beloved snacks or a full meal if you’re feeling off. Seriously, do you know how big that is? Luffy parting with his food is like a miracle in itself, so if he’s offering it to you, you better believe you’re special.

And let’s talk about the food thing for a sec. Do you even realize how big of a deal it is that Luffy shares his food with you? Like, do you know how many times he’s turned down offering a bite of his meat to anyone? Probably never. So when he hands you a piece of his prized food, you know it’s a huge honor. We’re talking sacred territory here.

If you ever doubted your place in Luffy’s heart, just remember: he shares his food with you. That’s a level of trust and affection that not even the grandest feast can outdo. Trust me, you’ve got a special place in his world, and it’s right next to the meat and maybe a little bit of the chaos.

Luffy’s naturally the type of guy who’d include you in absolutely everything—because why wouldn’t he? To him, you’re part of the crew, part of his world, and that means he’s going to drag you into every single bit of it.

You’d be minding your own business, maybe sitting quietly with your book or trying to sneak in a nap, when suddenly—BAM! Luffy's in front of you, grinning like a madman, already talking about the next big adventure or game that everyone’s playing. “C’mon, join us!” he’d say, and before you could protest, he’s already tossing you into the mix.

It’s not that he’s forcing you to join, though—Luffy just has this way of making you feel like you should be there, without ever putting you on the spot. His carefree, inclusive attitude makes it feel like the natural thing to do. You never feel pressure; you just feel... valued. Like you belong, whether you’re quietly cheering from the sidelines or joining in with your own brand of awkward enthusiasm.

It’s like Luffy’s energy is so contagious that you can’t help but want to be part of whatever insane thing he’s cooking up that day, even if it’s just watching him eat his weight in food and making random, nonsensical decisions.

If anyone ever crossed the line with you—teased you, made you uncomfortable, or said something that got under your skin—Luffy would flip the script faster than you can blink. That goofy, carefree grin would disappear in an instant, replaced by a rare, uncharacteristically serious expression.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you like a human shield, ready to take down anyone who dared upset you. He’s usually a chaotic force of nature, but mess with his loved ones, and that’s when you see a side of him that is all about protecting you.

He wouldn’t hesitate to confront the person, his voice firm and unwavering. “Hey! That’s not cool! You don’t mess with my crew!” He’s not one for subtlety or second-guessing, so you’d know right away that Luffy’s on your side. If someone’s being rude or making you feel small, he’ll make sure they know they’ve messed with the wrongggggg person.

The crew’s used to this by now—because Luffy, despite his childish nature, would go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he cares about. You’d feel like the most important person in the world in that moment because, in his eyes, you are.

Luffy’s loyalty is on another level entirely. Once he’s decided he cares about someone, they’re in—no questions, no conditions, just pure, unfiltered loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be someone Luffy loves, you’d know it in every grin, in every spontaneous gesture, and in every single, joyfully shouted “Let’s go!” You’d never have to second-guess where you stand with him, because Luffy’s affections are as clear as day, as honest and unwavering as the sea he dreams of conquering.

So whether you’re officially part of his crew or not, in his mind, you’re always one of them, and he’d tell anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re with me!” with a pride that’d make your heart swell.

The best part? Luffy would constantly invite you to tag along on whatever wild journey or ridiculous stunt he’s about to pull. There’d be no hesitation; it’d be, “Hey! Let’s go on an adventure!” as if going on an impromptu quest was as simple as taking a stroll to the market. It’s almost like Luffy has this unspoken rule: every exciting, crazy, fun thing has to be experienced with you.

From treasure hunts that end up in unexpected fights with sea kings to races through bustling ports (where he definitely has no idea where he’s running but is laughing the whole time), Luffy wants you there, right in the middle of it all. You’d probably sigh at the thought of jumping headfirst into another unpredictable situation, but Luffy’s enthusiasm is like a gravitational pull—it’s impossible to resist.

And thank goodness for that, because your timid self wouldn’t stand a chance at taking the lead in any of these wild endeavors. Luckily, Luffy’s the type to charge forward, dragging you along by the hand with zero doubts and zero plans. He makes all the decisions for both of you, which, sure, sometimes means ending up lost on an island full of very angry, very large monkeys because, “They looked friendly!”

You’d feel a mix of exasperation and endearment at his antics. He doesn’t realize it, but his willingness to be the fearless leader—even if his plans are sometimes made with the strategic prowess of a rubber chicken—takes the pressure off you. You don’t have to stress over decisions or worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, because Luffy’s already ten steps ahead (probably literally sprinting) and dragging you along with a confidence that borders on reckless.

And honestly? That’s part of the charm. His “plans” might be half-baked and a little foolish, but he makes up for it by being completely and unapologetically himself.

You’d find yourself smiling more than you ever expected, getting swept up in the whirlwind that is Luffy, and realizing that being with him means never feeling alone, even if you’re quiet or shy.

His laughter, his outbursts, and his impulsive decisions would all become things you cherish, because with him leading the way, life feels a little less scary and a lot more exciting.

ACE

Ace is all warmth and energy, like a bonfire on a chilly night, and he’d go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable in his presence. Despite his natural tendency for excitement and spontaneity, he’d be mindful of your shyness, making a conscious effort to dial down the volume when needed.

You’d catch him lowering his voice a bit, softening his laughter, or even sitting a little closer with a reassuring grin. His laid-back nature would do wonders for your anxiety, melting it away bit by bit like ice under the sun. He’d take a more casual, playful approach when he’s with you, balancing his liveliness with a kind of gentle attentiveness that makes your heart feel at ease.

Ace has a knack for starting conversations, even if the topic is completely random. He’d sense your hesitance and jump in without skipping a beat. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook for the crew and accidentally set a whole forest on fire?” he’d start, eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

His stories are always ridiculous—stories of clumsy mishaps, epic pranks gone wrong, or that one time he fell asleep mid-battle. You’d find yourself laughing in spite of yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing as you realize he’s making himself the butt of the joke, just to make you feel more at ease. He’d keep talking until he sees that spark of amusement in your eyes, and then keep going, his smile growing wider every time you giggle.

And Ace’s teasing? Oh, he’d be a master of that fine line between making you laugh and making you blush. He’d lean in, smirking just enough to be charming, and say, “What’s this? A smile? I knew it was in there somewhere.” His playful comments would come with a wink and a laugh, just enough to make your face warm, but never enough to make you feel like you’re being put on the spot.

If he ever saw you growing quiet or noticed that hint of panic in your eyes, he’d immediately back off, switching to a softer tone and throwing in a quick “I’m just messing with ya” followed by that disarming grin of his.

Ace would be incredibly in tune with your reactions, watching for the tiniest signs that you’re feeling overwhelmed. The moment he picks up on it, he’d change gears—maybe suggesting a quiet spot on deck where you could sit together and watch the stars, or offering to take a walk to get some fresh air. He’d brush off the seriousness with a light, “Hey, it’s just us. No pressure, alright?” The way he says it makes you feel safe, like it’s just you and him against the world, no expectations or worries allowed.

Ace is the definition of a warm hug in human form, so being a tactile person comes naturally to him. But when it comes to you, he’d show an impressive amount of restraint—not an easy feat for someone who’d usually throw an arm around a friend without thinking twice. Well, you’re not just his friend but his lover, obviously—but what I’m getting at us that he’s a pretty affectionate guy.

He’d start small, easing you into it with light touches: a friendly pat on the shoulder when you share a joke, a playful ruffle of your hair that would leave you smiling and maybe a little flustered. You’d catch the subtle glances he’d shoot you afterward, as if he’s silently checking, Was that okay? Did that make you uncomfortable? It’s endearing how he’s so in tune with your comfort level, his natural affection turned into a gentle dance of patience and care.

As time went on and your confidence around him grew, Ace would start to introduce more meaningful touches. He’d sneak in side hugs when you’re sitting together, leaning into you with that easygoing smile of his that made your heart race. And when the day finally came that you leaned into him on your own, whether it was out of exhaustion or just because you felt safe, the soft, proud look on his face would be priceless.

Ace would make a big deal out of it in the quietest way possible, his hand finding yours in a reassuring squeeze as if to say, Hey, look at you, being brave. Eventually, he’d graduate to full-on snuggling when you were comfortable, and the first time he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close, you’d know just how deeply he cared.

And when social situations become too much—because let’s face it, Ace has a lot of friends and a magnetic personality that draws people in—he’d be the first to notice if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

In those moments, he’d spring into action without making it obvious. He’d tell a ridiculously over-the-top story, one that would steal the spotlight from everyone else and have the whole room’s attention fixed on him, leaving you a moment to breathe.

Ace would always throw himself into being the distraction, whether it meant cracking jokes or reenacting a failed stunt that ended with him pretending to trip over his own feet. He’d shoot you a quick wink in the middle of it, as if to say, See? I’ve got you.

It’s not that he wanted to be the center of attention—okay, maybe a little, but only when it’s for you.

He’d take on the role of court jester, chaos-maker, or even reluctant hero if it meant taking the pressure off you for a while. If anyone questioned it, he’d brush it off with a laugh and a shrug, all while keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And if things really got too much, Ace wouldn’t hesitate to steer you away from the noise altogether, leaning in close and saying, “Let’s get outta here for a bit, yeah?” He’d lead you somewhere quieter, a hand on your arm or fingers interlaced with yours, the simple touch grounding you as you walked.

You’d both end up somewhere peaceful, maybe under the stars or by a flickering campfire, where he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder and say, “You don’t have to explain. Just take your time.” And you would, with the steady thump of his heartbeat right next to yours, knowing he’d take on the world just to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

Ace would be your number one cheerleader, hyped beyond belief over every little victory you achieved. You managed to say something in a group conversation? He’d beam at you like you just solved world peace. “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” he’d shout, probably a bit louder than necessary, with that signature grin that lights up his entire face.

If you reached out to touch his arm or, heaven forbid, initiated a hug, there’d be a solid five minutes of him staring at you in delighted disbelief before breaking out into an excited, “Did you just—? You did! You did!”

What you might not notice is that whenever you step even half a toe out of your comfort zone, Ace is in the background punching the air with all the subtlety of an over-caffeinated kid at a birthday party.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny thing, like making eye contact with someone new, or a big step like saying a few words in front of the crew—Ace is celebrating it like you just discovered the One Piece itself.

He might look a bit unhinged to anyone passing by, but he’s never cared about that. You’re his person, and your wins are his wins. He’s just out here being the proudest guy alive, punching invisible foes and mouthing, That’s my partner!

And the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re the most priceless treasure in the world, and not just in the fleeting, pirate-wants-your-gold way. No, Ace’s gaze is full of warmth and genuine awe, the kind that makes you feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket of sunshine.

When you speak, whether it’s a confident statement or a hesitant mumble, Ace is all ears. His eyes would fix on you with this almost comically serious expression, nodding along like you’re revealing some ancient, life-altering secret.

You could point to the sky and say, “That’s the sky,” and he’d respond with a deep, earnest nod and a wide grin, “Exactly! I love that you noticed!” The rest of the crew might shake their heads and mutter things like, “Here they go again,” but Ace doesn’t care. If it matters to you, it matters to him—simple as that.

It doesn’t matter how mundane your observation is or how shyly you say it; to Ace, every word is golden. He’d hang on every syllable as if you were weaving a tale worthy of a bard’s song. You’d catch him repeating things you said back to you later, just to show he’d remembered, saying things like, “Oh yeah, like you said the other day, the sky really was a perfect blue.”

It’s almost ridiculous, but that’s Ace—he’d make you feel like every tiny thing you did was extraordinary, because in his eyes, it truly is.

SABO

Sabo is the calm breeze compared to the whirlwinds that are Luffy and Ace, which makes him the perfect blend of approachable and comforting.

With his natural ease and warm, diplomatic demeanor, you’d find yourself feeling more at peace around him sooner than you’d expect. Sabo’s the kind of person who could have a conversation with anyone, but when he’s with you, you’d feel like you’re the only one in the world that matters.

He’s just got this knack for making everything feel safe, like he’s a sturdy anchor in a storm. If you ever started to feel overwhelmed, Sabo would be the first to notice, with a quiet attentiveness that doesn’t scream I’m watching you but more like I’m here if you need me.

He’d be a master of subtlety, paying close attention to what made you nervous and what helped you open up, all without making it seem like he was analyzing you. You’d catch him making mental notes when you shifted uncomfortably or lit up at something specific. He’s probably like, “Write that down, write that down!” in his head.

And he’d use those observations to make your interactions more comfortable. If he noticed that certain topics or big crowds made you anxious, he’d steer conversations towards lighter things or find a reason to take a quiet walk somewhere less crowded.

Sabo would never rush you into sharing more than you were ready for. He understands that trust is built slowly, like adding logs to a fire, not dumping gasoline on it and hoping for the best.

Sabo would show his affection in the most considerate ways, taking into account what you’d find comforting rather than overwhelming. That being said, grand and dramatic gestures aren’t his style when it comes to you; he’d save those for his other acts of rebellion.

With you, he’d stick to smaller, more intimate actions. He’d brush his fingers across yours before holding your hand, always making sure it was welcome. He’d lean in a little closer when you’re talking, eyes fixed on you with that soft, attentive gaze of his that makes you feel like you have all the time in the world.

There’d be moments when he’d reach out with a light touch on your arm, or just the simple press of his shoulder against yours when you sat side by side, enough to let you know he was there but never too much to make you uncomfortable.

It’s like he has a sixth sense for what was just the right amount of closeness. And if you ever looked unsure or nervous, Sabo’s eyes would catch yours, full of warmth and encouragement, like he was silently saying, Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.

The patience he’d show would be unmatched; you could almost hear him mentally cheering you on even if you were just picking your words slowly or taking a deep breath before saying something important.

And the way he’d support you? Subtle but powerful. If you ever found yourself second-guessing or fumbling, he’d quietly step in to help redirect the conversation or offer a reassuring comment. “I think that’s a great point,” he’d say with genuine enthusiasm, giving you that extra boost of confidence.

And when you’d catch him watching you speak, the look in his eyes would always be one of admiration—never judgment, never pressure, just pure, patient support. And whether it’s a simple chat or a quiet walk together, Sabo’s presence would be your reminder that you’re valued, seen, and cherished, just as you are.

When it came to conversations, Sabo would be your guy for deep, meaningful talks, but with a healthy dose of humor to keep things light. He’d pick the coziest, quietest corner on the ship or at a café, leaning in with a thoughtful smile and saying, “Alright, you ready to hear some top-secret stories about Ace and Luffy’s greatest flops?” And he’d be off, recounting tales of Luffy trying to eat something he really, really shouldn’t have or Ace’s legendary nap times that ended in near-disaster.

His stories are designed not just to make you laugh, but to remind you that even these larger-than-life brothers were and still are total dorks sometimes. And before you know it, you’re easing into sharing a few of your own stories, prompted by his gentle encouragement and the safety his presence provided.

If there was ever a moment where you hinted at wanting to join in on an activity or step outside your comfort zone, Sabo would light up like someone just told him there was free cake on deck. But instead of jumping up and down and looking crazy, Sabo’s celebration would be the dignified, internal kind.

Picture a boardroom in his mind filled with 10 tiny Sabos all jumping out of their chairs, high-fiving each other, and throwing confetti in the air. On the outside, he’d just offer you that calm, reassuring grin and a simple, “You’ve got this. And if not, we’ll laugh about it later, yeah?”

He’d be your biggest silent cheerleader, always ready with a patient hand to guide you or a subtle nudge if you needed it. If you wanted to join in on a game or join a conversation but hesitated, Sabo would seamlessly include you, making it feel natural and not like he was pointing out your shyness.

He’d say things like, “Hey, I think Y/N would be perfect for this—what do you think?” and then shoot you a wink that says, See? Not so bad, right? And when you took that first step, whether it was a comment or a hesitant laugh at a joke, Sabo’s inner cheering squad would be losing their collective minds.

So while Ace might be punching the air and Luffy would probably shout, “You did it!” at full volume, Sabo would play it cool—at least on the outside. But don’t be fooled. The minute he see’s you trying something new or making a move outside your comfort zone, those 10 tiny Sabos in his head would be throwing a full-on carnival, complete with fireworks and dancing.

And he’d just keep giving you that look that said, You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Because to him, you’re always worth celebrating, no matter what.

If there’s one thing Sabo doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone messing with the people he cares about. So if he spotted you feeling uncomfortable or noticed someone trying to be intimidating, he’d swoop in with the subtlety of a master diplomat. Sabo wouldn’t make a scene, but instead, he’d redirect the situation like an absolute pro.

Maybe he’d throw out a well-timed joke, ask a question that shifts the focus, or suddenly develop an urgent need for your opinion on something random, like, “Hey, didn’t you say you know a lot about… apples?” The offender would be left blinking, and you’d find yourself in a new conversation before you even realized what happened. Crisis averted, all thanks to Sabo’s suave social maneuvering.

And then there’s Sabo’s sweeter side—his covert operation of affection. He knows that grand, dramatic proclamations can sometimes make you want to dive head-first into the nearest bush, so he’s perfected the art of subtle, heartfelt gestures.

He’d leave little handwritten notes tucked in places he knows you’ll find, maybe in your favorite book or slipped under your plate at breakfast. Each note would be filled with the kind of genuine, thoughtful words that would make your heart do an embarrassing little flip. They’d say things like, I know you’re stronger than you think, and I can’t wait for the world to see it, too, or The stars were beautiful last night, but not as much as seeing you smile today.

And don’t even get started on the letters. Oh, the letters. Sabo would write you these intricate, beautifully crafted notes that read like they came straight from the heart of a poet who’s just returned from a victorious battle.

He could have just finished a day of intense Revolutionary Army missions, covered in dust and exhaustion, but you’d still get a note that starts with, Hey, you. I’m thinking about you, and ends with some metaphor about how your presence makes the world brighter, even when he’s knee-deep in chaos.

You’d find trinkets, too—maybe a small charm he found that reminded him of you or a pressed flower from somewhere he thought was pretty. It’s the little things that would make your day and remind you that, no matter what chaos he’s wrapped up in with the Revolutionary Army, you’re always on his mind. And when you’d look up at him, cheeks flushed from finding yet another one of his notes or small gifts, Sabo would just grin that charming, lopsided grin and say, “Did you find it? Good. I meant every word.”

He’s protective, thoughtful, and romantic in a way that feels like it’s tailored just for you. And even if he’s balancing the weight of revolutions and strategic plans, Sabo makes sure you know that you’re not just part of his life—you’re the best part.

[hotshotsxyz]

too little, too late

(8x08 coda) (buddie) (1.2k) the episode chose violence and so did i :) spoilers for 8x08, and hey, guess what? this is my 100th 911 fic! it feels right that it's an evil one <3

The real estate agent has an irritating voice. It’s pitchy and run through with vocal fry, and if Buck has to listen to her talk for another second, he might actually tear his hair out. And it’s definitely about her voice. Nothing to do with the largely helpful information she’s handing over to Eddie like candy on Halloween.

“Anyway, we can touch base again once you’ve had a chance to look over those listings. I’m sure we’ll find something for both of you to love!” the realtor says.

Buck smiles. It feels brittle and fake.

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says with all the sincerity Buck can’t quite muster. He ends the call and sits back against the couch.

“That, uh—that went, um—” He’s choking on the positivity he’s trying so hard to exude. “—well,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Seems easier than I thought it was going to be.”

Easy.

That’s—

Yeah.

“You know you—you don’t have to buy straight away,” Buck says as casually as he can manage, which is to say, not casually at all.

“Buck,” Eddie says with a sigh.

“I know!” Buck says, throwing his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Just—maybe you want to make sure, you know? Before it’s—it’s permanent.”

“I can’t keep missing out on his life,” Eddie says quietly.

Buck swallows. He knows. He knows! Knows it like he knows there’s going to be an Eddie-and-Chris shaped hole in his heart for the rest of his goddamn life.

“I don’t want you to,” Buck says, and it’s maybe the first honest thing that’s come out of his mouth since he sat down on Eddie’s couch.

Bile rises in the back of his throat as he realizes this might be one of the last times he gets to sit on this couch, in this house, with this man.

Eddie drops his head into his hands. “I don’t—” He cuts himself off.

“Have you told Bobby yet?” Buck asks. His breath catches.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Buck says in a rush of air. “That’s—” He wants to say good. He can’t say good. Eddie needs—he needs—

Eddie lifts his head from his hands and his eyes are shining. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I thought—”

“That he’d want to come back,” Buck supplies when Eddie doesn’t finish his thought.

He nods.

“He still—he could still—” Buck starts.

“He’s not going to change his mind.” Eddie cuts him off. “He doesn’t hate me. It’s worse than that. He doesn’t care.”

Buck’s chest feels tight. “He—he loves you, Eddie,” he says weakly.

“Maybe before, but—”

“He does,” Buck insists. “And—and if this is what you have to do to make sure that stays true I—I get it.” He does. He gets it. He’d do anything for Christopher. He’d—

It’s the worst feeling in the entire fucking world, but he’d give up Eddie for that kid. Is. Is giving up Eddie for that kid. A sob jumps up in Buck’s throat. He fights it back.

“I want to believe you,” Eddie says.

Buck knows that he doesn’t.

“Have you, um. Have you talked to Chris about this yet?” Buck asks, feeling a little bit like he’s just laid his neck across the base of a guillotine.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I—I’ve got to do this, whether he wants me to or not.”

All at once Buck’s angry. Angry at Eddie, angry at his parents, at fucking Kim, at himself, and maybe even a little bit at Christopher.

“Eddie, you—you told him he could come back!” He says, a little louder than he means to. “Doesn’t he deserve to know that’s not going to be an option anymore?”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s got—he’s got friends here, and—and Carla, and—” He can’t say it. He doesn’t have the right to say it, doesn’t have the right to feel like he’s already lost a limb and now they’re taking a lung, but— “and me,” he finishes quietly.

Something like devastation flashes across Eddie’s face. “Buck, I—”

“No,” Buck says quickly, standing up from the couch. “I shouldn’t have—I’m not—”

“Buck, wait,” Eddie says, following him as he retreats toward the door.

“I, um—I forgot, I have to—I promised Maddie,” he tries to lie.

“Please don’t go,” Eddie says, and god, how many times in Buck’s life has he yearned to hear someone say that to him and mean it. How many nights has he driven home from Eddie’s wishing he’d been asked to stay.

This thing building in his chest, this thing of anger and grief and regret—it hurts. Every breath he takes is a little more constricted, a little less effective.

Eddie looks at him, and Buck sees it. That thing he’s always wanted to see. That thing he didn’t even know he wanted from Eddie until right now and it’s—

There was a small, naïvely hopeful part of Buck that really still believe that if someone loved him enough, they’d stay. Eddie loves him, looks at Buck like he’ll break his heart when he walks out the door, and it still isn’t—

Eddie loves him, and it isn’t enough to make him stay.

Buck is in love with him, he realizes, and it doesn’t fucking matter because he’s leaving. Like Abby and like Tommy, except Buck didn’t know how much hurt he hadn’t even discovered yet, because this isn’t Abby or Tommy, it’s Eddie, and Eddie—

Eddie’s supposed to be the one that stays.

Buck shakes his head and shuffles back until the doorknob is digging into his spine. “I have to,” he breathes, a grossly distorted reflection of what neither of them has quite managed to say.

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to ask again, like he’s going to beg Buck to stay, to show him all these awful pieces of his heart that he’s just found so he can remind himself that it’s not too much to leave behind.

Buck’s out the door before he can say another word.

He throws himself into the Jeep and all but fishtails it out of Eddie’s driveway. He makes it three streets away before he has to pull over.

The first sob surprises him with its softness; the second with its violence. He wraps his arms tight around his stomach and, god, he tries to breathe. But there’s not—there’s not enough oxygen in the entire world to make up for the way his lungs refuse to expand in the face of this loss.

He has to—he can’t—Eddie needs him to pull it together. To—to help him. To support him, and god help him, Buck will. There’s nothing Eddie could ask of him that he wouldn’t give. Nothing Eddie could do, Buck’s realizing, to make him love him any less.

Hot tears spill down Buck’s cheeks. He takes a shuddering breath and wipes them away. His vital organs are crumbling, so what?

He’ll set himself on fire if that’s what it takes to keep Eddie warm.

[froggiewrites]

Hii, I hope you're doing well, if not I'll hope things will go better!

I really liked your writing like it's so good!!

I have an sfw request about Ace.

So basically reader is feeling really sick recently so they spend a lot of time with Marco who gives them advices and all, and Ace gets jealous about this cause he thinks that reader is interested in Marco so one day when he's with the both of them he just says something like "oh I wouldn't want to be the third wheel" like something that clearly shows that he thought the two of them were now a couple and when he learns that they're not he immediately confess to reader?

I really hope it's not too precise, if you want to change things feel free to since you're the artist here, and I hope you understood (English isn't my first language) thank you so much for the other stories!

Take care, bye bye!

Hi, thank you so much for your well wishes and your request! Sorry this took so long, I burned myself out a little bit with the Halloween event and it took me a little time to get back into the swing of things. This one is short and sweet, and I hope you like it!

Third Wheeling It

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've been spending a lot of time down in the clinic with Marco recently, and Ace gets the wrong idea. Warnings: Fluff, Misunderstandings, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort, Idiots in Love Word Count: 1.6k

You’re convinced you’re never going to feel normal again. You have a headache you just can’t shake, and a fatigue down to your bones. You haven’t been able to shake whatever it is, no matter how much you rest.

“Are you really sure I just need to take it easy? It’s been weeks.”

Marco gives you a sympathetic look. “I know, but you really do just need time. You burned yourself out. Recovering from that takes a while.” He had been telling you that since you first started making regular visits to his office a couple weeks ago. You had spent a majority of the last week curled up in one of the beds in the clinic, pretending to rest but really just bothering Marco to entertain yourself. You suppose it was rest, in a way, but you liked to pretend you were somehow tricking him, getting away with something. It made you feel less helpless, and helped ease the ache of missing your normal routine.

You throw yourself down on the cot you had claimed for your own. “But I want to be better now.”

He laughs. “Don’t we all. If desire were all it took, I would be out of a job.”

“You could still fight. You don’t need to be a doctor to be a pirate.”

“True enough. But my point still stands: if our bodies listened to what we wanted there would be no need for doctors. Sometimes there really is no magic solution other than time.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” He passes by your cot, ruffling your hair light as he walks past. “But you’ll pull through.”

“Will you sit with me? We can suffer together.”

“I have work to do,” he says, sitting on the edge of your cot with a slight smile anyway. “And I wouldn’t really call hanging out with you suffering.”

You smile sleepily. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need to raise your standards.”

“My standards are sky high, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah? What are they, then?”

“One, handsome. Two, nice to me. Three, end of list.”

He laughs. “God, the bar is in the ground for you, huh? Let me correct that for you: three, be Portgas D. Ace.”

You blush. “That–I–uh. Shut up!”

Marco is still laughing at you when you hear a throat clear in the doorway. You both look up to see the man you were just speaking of leaning against the doorframe, his eyes avoiding yours, a slight frown on his lips. “Sorry, I just–I heard you were down here again, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You smile at him, bright and earnest. “I’m doing alright, I guess. As well as I can be.”

Marco stands, moving away from your bed and back to his desk, more than willing to let Ace take his place at your sickbed. “They’re fine, really. They just hate listening to me.”

“I’d like listening to you if you had better things to say.”

“Ouch!” He puts a hand over his chest. “I’m just doing my job here!”

As you both giggle with each other, Marco trying to distract you and you trying to let him, you both miss Ace shifting uncomfortably and biting his lip. However, once you’ve come back down, you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you, a look far too intense to dismiss. It’s strange, somewhere half between hurt and resignation. Something flashes in his eyes, something pained, but before you can ask him what’s wrong he’s already turned his back. “I’ll leave you two to hang out. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re leaving already?” You can’t leave the sorrow out of your voice or the pout off of your face. “But I’ve missed you.” And you had, really. Spending most of your time down here with Marco means you’ve barely spent any time at all with Ace these past few weeks. You had missed everything about him, from his smile to his laugh to his loud, obnoxious snores when he passed out halfway through dinner. 

His shoulders stiffen. His voice is tight when he speaks again. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You could give a guy the wrong idea.”

You sit up, wincing but forcing yourself through the discomfort. “What kind of wrong idea?”

“The idea that you might be…interested.”

“That sounds like the right idea, actually.”

He whips around, his face painted with hurt. “That isn’t funny.”

“Who’s joking?”

“I…really. This isn’t…this is cruel. Having to third wheel with you two is hard enough without…”

Marco finally speaks up, his voice filled with confusion. “Third wheel?”

“Yeah, watching you two get closer while I have to pretend I’m fine is hard enough, you guys don’t need to rub it in my face.” He doesn’t sound angry, really, just defeated and pained. “I’m trying to be happy for you, you don’t need to make it harder than it already is.”

You furrow your brow. “Happy for us?”

Marco can’t help the surprised bark of a laugh that leaves him. “You think we’re dating?”

Ace pauses. “You…aren’t?”

“Hell no!”

“Absolutely not!”

You and Marco both instantly refute the claim, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary.

Ace lights up like the sun. “You mean it?”

“Of course we mean it!” You cry.

“Why wouldn’t we mean it?” Marco chuckles, voice filled with the sort of weary but unwavering affection Ace tends to bring out in people. 

“Will you go out with me?” Ace stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, already moving to beg on his hands and knees, as though he expects rejection.

“You aren’t really my type,” Marco quips with a laugh, before closing the curtain to give you two some privacy.

It’s your turn to be shocked, heart beating out of your chest and cheeks flushing. “You–I–What?”

He grins, on his knees in front of you, taking a hand in his. “I like you, a lot. Will you go out with me?”

“This is so sudden.” You want to say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t you? But you weren’t expecting such a confession today, and your head is still pounding, and you can’t quite get over the thought that Marco is listening right behind the curtain. You know that Ace doesn’t care about any of those things, blind to anything but his goal in any situation, but you could never be so headstrong, so carefree. Could you?

“I’ve liked you from the moment I saw you.” His smile is growing ever wider, his eyes filling with hope. “I thought I had lost my chance, and I will absolutely never take that risk again. Will you be mine? Or, I guess, could I be yours?”

Your cheeks are on fire, and your brain is melting, but your mouth moves despite yourself. “Yes,” you hear yourself say.

You’re pinned to the bed as he throws himself at you, laughing joyously. “Yes? Oh my god, yes!” He tucks his face into your neck, and you can feel his smile. “I never thought it’d be a yes.”

“How could it be anything else?” Your voice is soft, more vulnerable than you’d like. But you would never understand how he could expect anything less than success. You don’t know how anyone could speak to Ace for longer than five minutes and not fall madly and deeply in love with everything about him: his smile, his humor, his confidence. He shines like the sun, and you don’t know how anyone could ever resist basking in his warmth for as long as they can.

“Well up until a couple minutes ago I thought you were in love with Marco.”

You laugh. “I’ve been sick, Ace. He’s a doctor.”

He doesn’t respond, and you can see a bit of pink at the tips of his ears. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You could have asked.”

“You should listen to them,” Marco calls from behind the curtain. “This was entirely self-inflicted.”

“Shut up!” He finally leaves your neck just to shout at Marco, cheeks hot. “Would you have asked?”

“Yes. I’m a grown man. I can handle a tough conversation.”

“Well–I–Shut up!”

Marco laughs, and you can hear the door slam shut behind him. Ace buries himself in your neck again, his strong arms pulling around you even tighter, and you can’t help but smile. He seems so delicate like this, so unlike his usual self, and you can’t help but admire him. He’s so charming even now, so vulnerable and small. “I would have been too nervous to ask too,” you quietly reassure him. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because you said it.”

He smiles against your skin. “I did say it,” he mumbles. “And you accepted.”

“I did.”

“I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

You don’t have a moment to react before his lips are on yours, slightly chapped and hesitant. You imagine this is what sunlight tastes like, warm and inviting. His hand rests on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. He’s smiling as he pulls away. “And now I can do that whenever I want.”

You grin. “You can. You’re encouraged, even.”

And so he kisses you again. Marco leaves you too alone for as long as he can justify to himself, and when he finally interrupts you two again you find yourself more than ready to leave the clinic again, a warm hand intertwined with yours and your headache nearly entirely gone.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

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[howi99]

A Knight second chance 9

Blake: *glaring daggers at Jaune*

Ren: ... Jaune, what did you do?

Jaune: *shrug* I stated the obvious. *Point to the cat ears* It's not like she even TRIED hiding her identity. *Doing a little wave at her, with a smile*

Blake: *looking furious*

Ren: ... But why the antagonisms?

Jaune: If i told you it keeps her from thinking about running away from here, you'd believe me?

Ren: ... Does it have anything to do with what happened at the docks?

Jaune: ... No?

___________________________________________

Team RWBY: *arriving at the docks after Blake was "forced" to explained her backstory to her team*

Blake: What the-

Jaune: *speaking with one of the White Fang which is already in handcuffs* Oh don't get me wrong, i don't like the SDC one bit, but-

Ruby: *perplexed to see her friend here* Jaune?

Jaune: *turning to see them* Oh, hey gang!

Yang: *looking at the bunch of White Fangs being arrested by the police* What... Happened here?

Jaune: *shrug* They tried stealing a shipment of Dust. And hey, i'm the first person to say that the SDC suck-

Weiss: Hey!

Jaune: *smiling* Weiss, your father is the main reason why Vacuo is dirt poor. And they refuse to send dust to Menagerie.

Weiss: *pointing at the faunus on the ground* Because of them!

Blake: *frowning at Weiss*

Weiss: *rolling her eyes* The terrorist, not the faunus.

Jaune: *taking a pamphlet from his pocket* Actually, the embargo debuted BEFORE the White Fang was even a thing. So it's totally because of segregation, Weiss.

Weiss: B-but-

Jaune: *cuting her with a smile* Anyway, that's not important for now. What's important is that the situation was de-escalated and that nobody was hurt.

Blake: How!?

Jaune: ... I called the authorities? *Shaking his head* Blake, they are civilians, not trained soldiers. Heck, it wasn't even hard to explain to them that if they cooperated, they wouldn't be tried as terrorists, but as thieves.

Black: *who had a "perfect" speach ready* Uh!?

Grunt: ... He also knocked out most of our heavy hitters while WALKING to them with a smile. And we were shooting him! So uh... Yeah, we aren't dealing with that.

Yang: That's badass.... *Smirk* And frightening.

Jaune: *Sigh* It also hurts like a bitch. *Chuckle* I wouldn't recommend it. *Picking up one of the guns* The only reason it worked was because they were using subsonic ammunitions of 9mm.

Grunt: *sigh* The guy, Roman, said it was for discretion. If it wasn't of that, we would have been fine.

___________________________________________

Ren: You did steal her moment, no?

Jaune: *shrug* Meh, it's not like that's going to be the last time... Also, duck.

Ren: *perplexed* Duck? *Get hit behind the head by a creampie Blake tried to throw at Jaune* !?

Silence in the cafeteria

Nora: *jumping on the table* I'LL AVENGE YOU! *Throwing a fish at Yang by mistake* Oops...

Yang: *her semblance activating with a grin* FOOD WAR!!!

___________________________________________

Velvet: *under a table with Coco and Russel* You want Coco expertise?

Russel: Yeah!

Coco: ... Your team did bully V, why should i help you?

Velvet: *frowning* Coco, Russel's a good guy. And even the rest of his team aren't really that bad. *Sigh* Cardin was mainly angry because the white fang kept attacking his mother's store.

Coco: ... *Sigh* You are too good, V. *Looking at Russel* What do you want?

Russel: W-well, i-

Dove: *taking cover* Oh, hi you Velvet. You were still interested in coming to the arcade with us?

Velvet: *smiling* Hey Dove and yes! But i was wondering if my team could come?

Dove: Don't see why not. *Cardin falls next to him* Hey big guy, Velvet wants to know if she can bring her friends with her to the arcades?

Cardin: *shaking off the food from his head* Uh? *Looking at Velvet with a slight blush* Oh uh, yeah, sure. *Picking up a plate as a shield, going back into the melee*

Dove: *looking for a "weapon", picking up a breadstick and following his leader*

Coco: uh... They do seem a lot nicer. *Looking back at Russel* So back to my help.

Russel: *picking up invitations to a nice restaurant from his pocket* W-well i was planning to ask my girlfriend out, but i don't really have anything nice to wear and-

Coco: Say less, i'll help you out.

Russel: *smiling* Thank you! Now if you excuse me *picking food for the fight* My team needs me! *Leave the cover to follow his friends*

Coco: ... By the way, the big guy totally has a crush on you.

Velvet: Pfft, Cardin? That's ridiculous!

Coco: Uh-huh, if you say so.

[nohva]

Zoro drunkenly (or while tipsy) confesses his love to Sanji one night but, in the same breath, tells him it’s okay—he knows Sanji is straight and is fine with them remaining "only" crewmates, he just had to get these feelings out of his system. And Sanji is overwhelmed because ???? Where is this even coming from? Why is the mosshead suddenly saying these things? This isn’t how their relationship is supposed to work. They don’t do the whole talking thing, especially not about serious topics?? When they have emotions to work through they fight each other, maybe throw in an insult or two. But this? This is unfamiliar territory for Sanji, so he’s really not sure how to react, much less respond.

So he doesn’t; he just stares at Zoro, his mouth opening and closing. Zoro takes that as his sign, gets up from the stairs he’d been sitting on, and leaves for the sleeping quarters. It is quite late, after all.

The next morning while preparing breakfast Sanji is oh so tense. He’s still mostly confused because there’s just no way the green-haired brute could harbor any such feelings toward another human being—least of all him—could he? And what if this does change things? Zoro said it wouldn’t, but who's to say?

And Zoro acts like nothing ever happened, he's just the same old moss ball that drinks too much Sake and takes way too many naps during the day and Sanji is so confused and he's getting angry now, because how can he act so nonchalant while the cook is over here losing his god damn mind over this? Does Zoro maybe not remember confessing? Had he been that drunk?

And obviously Zoro DOES remember, and he's NOT calm at all. He's freaking out internally every time he and Sanji are in the same room, but he'd rather lose his remaining eye than have anyone notice. So he does his best to play it cool. And yeah, maybe he takes a nap or two more than usual, and maybe he spends even more time working out in the crow's nest than is strictly necessary, but that is nobody’s business but his own, isn’t it?

Bla bla bla cue Sanji questioning the universe and his existence, freaking out over his sexuality, sloooowly coming to terms with it and then freaking out again about telling Zoro and what it means for the crew dynamic etc etc.

Also Robin being somewhere in the background of the story, smiling to herself, sipping on her tea, because of course she knows something is up, and she has a pretty good idea of what it is about, even if she doesn’t know the whole story, because she knows pretty much everything that’s going on on the sunny, cause she’s the responsible older sister™️.

————————————————————-

I have never attempted to write anything before, not even a rough draft like this, but Zosan has been living in my head rent free for the past few months now, and once the idea for a possible plot popped up in my mind I absolutely needed to note it down. Oh well, I hope I am not embarrassing myself too much by posting this.

Anyways, this is the most I can offer due to a lack of actual literary skills, but I still hope you enjoyed!

The obligatory English isn’t my first language speech: please excuse any spelling and grammar mistakes, I tried my best, I swear!

[woozisguitar]

seungcheol as your brother Joshua's bestfriend but he hates you and you hate him because you always pulled pranks on him. that was when you were 16, your parents separated and you and joshua just talked a few times, now you are Joshua's wedding and seungcheol is his best man and damn, you both have that jitters of suggestive enemies to lovers thing going on. does it make sense???

congratulations on your 200 followers btw!!!

YES IT DOES OMG! sorry this took so long and hope you enjoy <333

ps: let me know if you figure out the Taylor Swift reference I sneaked in heh

requests for 200 celebration post: open (but slow updates!)

warning: grinding, implication of them sleeping together at the end but nothing explicit, kissing, so much kissing, language, bad flirting? idk, seungcheol biceps (yeah that's a warning), lmk if I missed anything!

for as long as you can remember, it has always been you, joshua, and seungcheol. all your childhood and a good part of your teenage memories are full of them. sure, being a couple of years apart meant you were in different grades, but joshua always liked having you around and didn’t mind you hanging out with his friends. he knew you were a little antisocial, always scared of approaching people first, and as an older brother, he was rather protective of you.

seungcheol, on the other hand, hated your guts. sure, it might have had something to do with the constant pranks like switching out the sugar in his coffee with salt, or shaking the soda bottle and watching him try to open it for the girl he was trying to sweet-talk, only for it to fizzle out all over her. but in your defense, he did take revenge almost every time, like switching out the ink in all your favorite pens with empty refills. you know, harmless stuff. joshua tried to stay out of it entirely, always refusing to pick sides. his only argument was, “how can i pick one between my best friend and my sister?”

safe to say, you and seungcheol would’ve been at each other’s throats all the time if it wasn’t for the shared admiration for joshua. that was until the night that changed your lives forever.

your parents came home from work and called for a family meeting at the dining table. they informed you and joshua that they were getting a divorce and you’d each have to pick a parent to live with. not a thought, not a maybe, but a fact. you knew they had made up their mind but still tried to ask them the reason. “we simply fell out of love, that’s all,” your mom said, looking down at her clasped hands.

it was that night you found out that people can also fall out of love. joshua didn’t know how to react. he got up and left, mumbling something about spending the night at seungcheol’s. you excused yourself and locked yourself in your room. you knew this was going to change your lives forever.

the date of the final hearing fell on the same day as your 16th birthday. by now, joshua had accepted that this was happening and he’d have no say in it. you, on the other hand, tried not to think about it, throwing yourself into assignments and projects. it was joshua’s idea to take you to the yogurt shop before going to the court—a small way to still celebrate your birthday.

there, seungcheol worked behind the counter, in his teal t-shirt, and you knew this might be the last time you’d see him. your mom wanted to move back to the states, and you couldn’t let joshua leave his friends and life behind. it’s not like you had a lot of friends here anyway; they all knew you through joshua. for the first time, you wanted to give him something in return for all the love he gave you.

joshua dropped you off at the airport with seungcheol. he hugged you tight, eyes brimming with unshed tears, whereas seungcheol looked grim. “don’t miss me too much, asshole,” you teased seungcheol through your own tears as you moved to hug him. he just rolled his eyes in return. “take care of him for me,” you whispered, and seungcheol gave you a small nod in return. you gave them one last look before turning around to your new life.

years passed since the divorce. now you’re in your mid-twenties, and you like to believe your life is pretty stable. you made a few friends in high school and some really good ones in university. you were still in contact with joshua, maybe not as often as before, but you still tried to make an effort to have some semblance of a sibling relationship. you knew he was in a long-term stable relationship, and you loved his partner to death. she was everything and more you could’ve asked for your brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t have much luck in the romantic areas of your life.

one evening, your brother decided to drop the news of his wedding. you were happy, of course—why wouldn’t you be? joshua was going to spend the rest of his life with someone he loved so dearly. but a small, selfish part of you was scared at the idea of going back to a place you used to call home. you still didn’t feel ready to meet the old ghosts that haunted you. yet, for joshua, you decided to bite the bullet and booked your flight tickets.

when you landed, you saw a message from joshua apologizing for not being able to pick you up as he had to meet with an event planner. however, in his stead, he sent over seungcheol.

making your way through the exit, you looked for seungcheol, and your eyes landed on him. the last time you saw him, you were 16 and he was 18. his then scrawny body had filled out, and a buff, beautiful man stood in front of you. you weren’t particularly in contact with him after leaving, only ever seeing glimpses of him on joshua’s social media, and god did he change.

the first thing you noticed was that he was taller. taller than when you last saw him. and bigger too. the sleeves of his black t-shirt fit him a little too well, and you could tell he didn’t miss gym days. the idea of having his arms cage you under him popped into your head, but you quickly shook it away. this was seungcheol, for god’s sake! joshua’s best friend. but the tiny devil on your shoulder whispered how you weren’t technically that kid anymore.

you may have spent a good five minutes staring before seungcheol noticed and waved you over. “took you long enough,” he said, raising an eyebrow. for a pretty face, he still had the same annoying personality.

you just shrugged and blamed it on customs, trying not to stare at his biceps when he was helping you load your luggage. “so, you’ve changed. how’ve you been?” he asked once on the road. “you’re not the same either. and i’m well. what about you?” “i’m good too, and i disagree. i think i’m still the same,” he said, giving an easygoing smile. “looks like i’m going to have to save my pens then,” you teased. “and i should hide my soda cans,” he laughed.

for a second, you thought that maybe you and seungcheol could finally be friends.

you were wrong.

literally the day after you arrived, seungcheol decided to make it his life’s mission to annoy the shit out of you. whether it was messing with you or disagreeing with your opinions and claiming, “i’m the best man; of course i know joshua better,” he never missed an opportunity to push your buttons. every single time you lost an argument, he’d flash you the same annoying, shit-eating grin from years ago.

you couldn’t believe that for a second there, you’d forgotten how annoying he was—and worse, that you’d found him hot.

the worst of the fights happened on the day of the rehearsal dinner.

“you can’t wear that,” seungcheol said the second you walked out in your little black dress. you had already approved your outfit with joshua, so you weren’t sure what exactly his problem was. “why not?” “because it’s an outdoor dinner. and it’s cold as fuck today. unless you want to freeze your pretty little ass off, i suggest you go and change.” “thanks for your ‘utmost concern,’” you said with exaggerated sarcasm, “but i already asked my brother, and he’s fine with it.” “well, don’t come to me when you’re cold,” he shot back as you pushed past him.

your regret was almost instant. it was annoyingly cold, and your dress didn’t do much to keep you warm. but you knew if you went back now, you’d have to admit he was right—and that was the last thing you wanted. so, you decided to tough it out, hoping the table covers would help you feel better.

it seemed the heavens were out to get you because you didn’t warm up at all. to make things worse, you were seated right next to seungcheol, who tried hard (and failed) to suppress his smirk every time you shivered. halfway through the dinner, he must’ve taken pity on you because he discreetly placed his jacket on your lap, helping you warm up a bit.

“this is why you should listen to me,” he said on your way back to your room after the dinner. “as if i’d ever listen to you,” you rolled your eyes. “what if i make you?” he said, stepping closer until your back was against your door. “you know, i see the way you’ve been looking at me since you got back.” seungcheol leaned in and whispered, “so what if i make you listen and be a good girl for me, hm?” “i’d like to see you try,” you whispered back, leaning closer before quickly unlocking your door and slipping inside.

the day of the wedding was one of the most beautiful events of your life. joshua looked handsome, his now-wife was stunning, their vows were incredible, and the whole event was just mesmerizing.

however, you would’ve enjoyed it more if it wasn’t for a certain encounter with a certain man from two days ago. the same man who was next to joshua the whole time as his best man.

seungcheol’s words played over and over in your head like a broken record, and even though you spent all of yesterday keeping your distance from him, you couldn’t help but admire how his black suit fit him in all the right places. and how desperately, you wanted to see him without it. it truly annoyed you to no end how much you wanted your brother’s best friend at his own wedding.

way to go, y/n.

during the reception, you found seungcheol seated alone, smiling at the newly married couple and the chaos of their friends on the dance floor. a very stupid idea popped into your head as you made your way over to him and took a seat next to him.

he looked over, tilting his head with a playful smirk. “may i help you?” “oh, nothing. i figured if you already know about my staring, why not do it up close? better view, you know?” you smirked, giving him a once-over while sipping your drink. “well, enjoy it all you want.”

the next series of events were a blur.

one second, you were bantering with seungcheol at his table, and the next, he had you pressed against the elevator wall. his lips crashed into yours in probably the messiest and most desperate kiss of your life. his hands roamed everywhere, from caressing your sides to tangling in your hair. when the elevator stopped on your floor, he dragged you toward your room, pressing kisses to the back of your neck as you fumbled with the keycard.

once inside, seungcheol pushed you against the same door he had cornered you against two nights ago and kissed you like it was the end of the world. the slits of your long blue dress gave him enough access to pull your leg up and wrap it around his waist, pressing himself harder against your core. “if you want to stop, tell me right now,” he mumbled against your jaw, his hips slowly grinding into yours. “god, no,” you moaned, pushing him onto the bed and straddling him.

you kissed him with the same desperation as before, grinding against him in a better position now. seungcheol’s lips moved to your collarbone, leaving kisses and marks below it, while you left your own trail of love bites down his neck once his shirt came off. “god, i knew you were a freak,” seungcheol chuckled as you lay on his sweaty chest, both of your clothes long forgotten on the bedroom floor. “well, can you blame me? look at you,” you giggled back. “hm, i suppose that’s what happens after years of pent-up frustration,” he teased, suggestively grinding into you again.

then he said something that caught you completely off guard.

“go on a date with me,” seungcheol said after a moment of silence. you raised an eyebrow. “and why should i listen to you?”

he smirked knowingly. “Because i know you’re not done with me yet.”

he wasn’t wrong. you smirked back, thinking of all the possible ways to get on his nerves.

but first, you had to think of a way to tell your brother how you ended up in his best friend’s bed.