#because this one? i don't even KNOW what counts as front-facing. i'm ASSUMING it's the top one?? but the prey eyes are just

[okaysonny]

business advice ╏ hudson ahn

★ summary: hudson gets a noise complaint ─ from one person.

★ details: fluff, f! reader, spoiler free.

★ wc: 1.4k

★ A/N: who else has a crush on him

"YOU! YELLOW HEAD!"

hudson's eyes widen, looking around.

but no, jay isn't here. and everyone else has dark hair. which can only mean…

hudson turns to face the girl approaching him, who looks comically angry. he can practically see steam coming out of her ears.

his eyes narrow. "are you talking to me?"

she's now right in front of him, pointing aggressively. "yeah i'm talking to you! don't you own this place?" she gestures to ansan's night club just ahead of them.

"i do. are you here to talk business? although…" he eyes her hoodie and sweatpants. "…you don't really look the part"

she blinks, not expecting a belittling so soon, but quickly shakes her head. "no i'm not here to talk business" she mimics his voice at the 'business' part. hudson feels a vein on his forehead throb.

"you need to turn the music down at night!" she huffs. "i can hear it from my window…" she points at an apartment building in the distance. "…all the way over there! some of us are trying to sleep, y'know?!"

he waits to see if she's finished her piece, before simply saying:

"0 points"

she blinks again. "…the fuck?"

"0 points. that's the score i give you. one…" he starts counting on his fingers. "…you show up sloppy. two. you disrespect me. and three. you start complaining about music when we're doing nothing wrong. where's your decorum?"

"...what- you-" she stammers, clearly speechless at his obviously correct evaluation.

she grits her teeth in frustration. "you wanna talk about decorum? it's not very um…decorum of you to play such loud music in the night!"

he sighs in disappointment. "bad grammar too. - 1 point"

"who gives a fuck?! now you're just nitpicking! and tell your employees to turn the music down!"

"…you're the only one complaining. why should i lower it for one person?"

she pauses, unable to think of a counterargument. "…um…"

hudson doesn't wait for her to finish. "ansan is critically acclaimed for its nightlife. it's what everyone comes here for. the loud music, which isn't even that loud by the way, is to be expected. if you don't like it, then move"

her jaw drops. "you…you ignorant, naive little─" she exhales slowly, composing herself.

"…can you just please turn it down?" she mumbles.

he runs a hand through his hair, getting tired of this argument now. "…like i said, you're the only one complaining. i'm assuming you didn't take this higher up, right? so, i have no obligation to lower it. come back with a court order and then we'll talk"

she sighs in defeat and starts walking back, flipping him off. "fine! but this isn't over, yellow head! i'll be back with that court order!"

hudson shrugs. "go ahead"

she can try, but it won't make a difference. channing can wrap anyone around his finger.

he shakes his head, heading back into the club. what an unsophisticated lady.

he hears her footsteps stop. "…your drinks are crap, by the way"

hudson hates that he can't hide his surprise, but the comment catches him off guard. "…what?"

she clearly notices it, because she wears an evil grin before continuing. "well…my friend likes to go clubbing a lot. she likes everything here, except the drinks"

now it's his turn to blink. well…the drink sales have been down lately. but everything else is in tip-top shape. he just put it down as an anomaly in the market.

he waves a hand dismissively, recovering from his brief surprise. "we take great care in analysing these things. we know what we’re doing. not that i'd expect you to understand"

she rolls her eyes and looks away for a moment, second-guessing herself. "...i'm not saying i know how to run a business or whatever. i’m just saying...my friend complains about the drinks all the time. and not just her ─ her other little clubbing friends say the same thing"

hudson tilts his head slightly, her words starting to pique his interest despite himself. "...what do her and her friends say?"

she shrugs. "i dunno. i don't really pay attention. she just says they’re kind of…boring, i guess? same old classics, nothing new or exciting. um…" she pauses, trying to remember. "oh yeah! seltzer's. they wish you had seltzer's here"

a flicker of curiosity crosses his face. "...seltzer's? you mean..."

"yeah, like the fruity, canned drinks everyone’s obsessed with these days" she speaks with less hesitance now.

"i work night shifts at the convenience store nearby, so i see what people like...and it matches up. everyone loves them. so i dunno, maybe there’s something to it"

he doesn’t respond, his mind starting to piece things together.

it's bizarre. they were just arguing a few minutes ago. now they're discussing alcoholic beverages.

she looks at him cautiously before continuing. "and uh...customers buy soju obviously, but they take a lot of fruit to go with it. strawberries and watermelon, stuff like that. it seems trendy these days. do you do soju cocktails?"

...they don't.

hudson stays quiet, arms crossed as he processes her words. she's not an expert, but she isn’t completely off the mark.

he hadn’t considered the problem might be the drinks themselves. ansan had always stuck with the classics, assuming they’d appeal to everyone, and it's worked for ages.

but maybe tastes were shifting. if soju cocktails and seltzers - which they didn't sell - were in demand...it could be worth researching what else customers like. lighter, trendier options…freshening up the menu could attract a whole new crowd, even boost overall sales.

the girl sighs, annoyed by his lack of response. "anyway, sorry. i went off on a tangent. keep serving whatever you want"

she turns, walking away again. "but i was serious about that court order, yellow head!"

hudson closes his eyes, feeling irritated. how has this not crossed his mind before? why does this random girl in sweatpants unknowingly know more than him?

her words stay in his head, and hudson knows he won’t be able to let it go.

"...wait" he says, sighing.

she turns around once more, her brows raising in confusion.

he pinches his nose bridge, preparing himself for what he's about to say. "that was...helpful. i suppose i could ask my guys to...turn the music down"

she stares at him, taken aback, before smiling. not the weird evil grin she wore earlier, a real one. "...you will? seriously? i just...really need some quiet, so i can study"

huh. "...yes" he says, a bit softly.

her smile grows wider, flashing her teeth at him. "wow...thanks a lot. really. i know it's a nuisance for you, yellow he-" she pauses, looking sheepish. "hey, what's your real name? i'll stop calling you yellow head now"

"hudson ahn...sun of ansan"

weird. he's talked to plenty of girls, all of them more beautiful than she is. why are his cheeks heating up now?

"...sun of ansan?" she covers her mouth, perhaps trying to stifle a laugh. "that's...cool"

"what's yours?" he can't help but avoid eye contact.

she looks pleasantly surprised. "me? i'm─"

─ beautiful. her name is beautiful. she is beau─ actually, what's he even thinking? is central seoul's romantic guy rubbing off on him?

hudson rummages in his pocket, handing her a business card. "here. it's my contact details. just in case you want to...point out anything else you notice"

she eyes it peculiarly, before shaking her head in disbelief. "i guess all business guys just have these handy, huh?"

still, she doesn't give it back, or tells him to get lost, or rips it up. instead, she keeps it.

she turns and starts walking away ─ for the final time. she looks back at him, waving the card as she speaks. "bye hudson ahn sun of ansan" she giggles. so, she was in fact, laughing at his title.

he watches her figure get smaller, the tiny dot turning into nothing.

a girl giving him business advice...and it's useful? he never thought he'd see the day.

he only saw her smile once, but he wouldn't mind seeing it again.

hudson heads back into the club, getting preparations ready for the night ahead.

she still lacks etiquette. she also giggled at the title he's so proud of. but...that doesn't stop him from muttering to himself.

"100 points"

A/N: okay...i know his hair is more light brown than yellow, but "brown head" doesn't have the same ring to it. just imagine...the sunlight makes it seem yellow, because he's the sun of ansan bye

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[front-facing-pokemon]

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[1nephthys]

I don't like coffee

Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: When Lando Norris pulled Lando NoRizz in front of his (and everyone really) biggest celebrity crush

Pairing: Lando Norris x actress!reader

Warning: Carlos, Daniel and Oscar are being amazing wingmen, my bad English and also my first time doing this Instagram thing at the end so idk if I did it correctly

----

The race in Brazil was cool and all that, but there was one specific reason why the fans went crazy for it.

Y/N Y/L/N.

When the first person noticed her around the paddock, the whole internet knew, even though Y/n was there just for fun, just because she was a huge fan of the sport so when she was invited to watch the race from RedBull garage she couldn't say no.

Even the drivers wanted to talk to her during the whole rush of the weekend.

Lando Norris had his chance right after the podium, where he proudly stood on the second step. After the nice conversation he had with the girl, he went straight to his driver's room to call his parents and his best friend.

He was about to press the green button on his phone to make a call when suddenly the doors opened and Oscar was in his room as well. Lando even stood up in surprise.

"Please, tell me you did not turn the y/n y/l/n, the famous actress, the face of the year, probably the most gorgeous girl on this planet down." He said to his teammate.

"What?" Lando asked, even more surprised than when Oscar entered the room. He was the type of guy who knew how to knock and now he was there, accusing him of turning down his celebrity crush? "I didn't, she asked me-"

He didn't have any chance to finish his sentence when Carlos entered the room as well, looking like he was some kind of mad man.

"Lando" He went straight to his friend and with the palm of his hand, hit the forehead of his friend "What have you done?"

"Ouch! What? What have I done? What are you two talking about? And who let you in there?" Lando was surprised, to say the least. And he had no idea what those two were talking about. Also, he thought about how Carlos, the Ferrari driver, got in his driver's room, in McLaren.

"You turned y/n down!" He yelled at him.

"What? No, I didn't! I would never do that" He said. "And how do you know I even talked to her?"

"Fans are everywhere, mate." Oscar explained as he crossed his arms on his chest. Carlos was now walking around the room.

"Oh my god, but I didn't do anything. It was just a nice talk. I doubt she would agree if I asked her out." Lando explained himself. Yes, he had the biggest crush on her but c'mon, she would never have a crush on him.

"We heard something else" Oscar commented, he didn't really know what Carlos heard, but as he looked at him, he assumed that the Spaniard heard the same rumors he did.

"And what exactly was this nice talk about?" Carlos asked, annoyed by his friend having absolutely zero brain cells.

"Well, at first she congratulated me, said I was great there. Then I thanked her and told her I was a huge fan of her newest movie. Then, she asked me if I wanted to grab some coffee so I said I don't like it and then-" Lando stopped and then- "OH MY GOD, IT WASN'T JUST ABOUT COFFEE, WAS IT?" He yelled, now he realized.

"Lando, dios mio. I can't believe you." Carlos said as he held his head.

"God, so you really turned y/n down" Oscar said as he tried to stop this chuckle from escaping (not very successfully).

"Stop making fun of me! What do I do now? Christ! I was nervous and I don't know! Help me, now that you yelling at me!" Lando panicked, did he just lose the chance he waited for half of his life? No, that can't be happening.

"Firstly, calm down. Secondly, go find her and ask her to go out with you!" Carlos said as he looked at his friend.

And if panicking and two yelling guys weren't enough, he heard a voice.

"Well, I wanted to ask if it's true, but from what I'm hearing right now, I assume you really did reject y/n y/l/n?" Daniel asked with his infamous smile, maybe it wasn't the best time to make fun of his friend but he just couldn't stop it.

"Stop! This isn't funny! And who let you all be there? It's McLaren!" He said annoyed, now he had to deal with his own stupidity and three guys there.

"Alright, alright!" Daniel lifted his arms in defence "I just wanted to let you know that you have your chance to fix your mistakes. She's in RedBull, talking to Max. She's waiting for her ride to the hotel."

Daniel said and Lando stood there, frozen, what were the chances he would see her again if he didn't talk to her now?

"What are you waiting for? Go!" Carlos had to push Lando a bit, but he started running as soon as he was out of the room. Three guys left behind, smirking to each other's, and crossing their fingers for their friend.

Lando didn't really have much time to think about what he wanted to say as all the way there he was just thinking about not tipping over and falling on his face.

So, now he was standing in front of really surprised (and a bit embarrassed about being rejected after the first time asking a guy out) y/n and Max.

Of course, Max heard as well so he just said "Oh! the mechanic just called me over there! It was nice meeting you, y/n!" He said as he left and went towards this mechanic who called him over (maybe he was a bit crazy for hearing voices).

Lando was still breathing heavily, but he felt awful about this silence that he caused. They talked really comfortably before he rejected her. "Hi, again. I know what I said about coffee but for my justification, I hate coffee and I really couldn't think straight after the race. So, I wanted to ask if you maybe like... uh... hot chocolate. I know it's a bit childish, but I know a really great place and they actually have nice coffee too so if you like, you can have a coffee and I can have a chocolate and... " He realized he started ranting but he also noticed that little smile forming on her lips.

"Lando, I would love to grab some drinks with you."

"Really?" He face-palmed himself mentally and probably all four men who were watching from around the corner did that as well. "I mean, that's fantastic, we can go tomorrow if you would like that?" He tried to compose himself but then she giggled a bit and he was folded all over again at this angelic sound.

"That suits great with me. Should I leave you my number, so you can call me with more details?" She asked as she noticed on her phone the message that the car was already there to pick her up.

He looked around him, only to realize he was still in his champagne-covered racing suit. And his phone was in his driver's room.

Well, that's what he thought but then Daniel appeared right beside him.

"Hi y/n! It's great having you there! Are you enjoying yourself?" Aussie asked as he pushed Lando's phone into his hands, trying to be smooth about it. As he did it, he didn't even give y/n any chance to answer "Well I gotta go! Nice seeing ya!" He said as he went back behind the corner to three other drivers who tried to help.

"Yeah, that was- sorry" Lando said but hey, at least it was less awkward as they both laughed a little. Lando handed y/n his phone and she put her number there, Leaving Lando to write some good name to it.

"I think I really have to go now. I will see you tomorrow, right?" She asked as she put her own phone into her purse.

"Yeah, I will pick you up in the evening" Lando smiled one last time as he watched her making her wait towards the exit of the paddock after saying quick good bye. To the boys behind corner as well.

----

Landonorris

Liked by F1, Carlossainz55 and 967,301 others

Landonorris the coffee was worth it:)

View all 13,431 comments

Yourusername The greatest coffee I ever had:)

Landonorizz LMAOOOOO so the coffee rumors were true

Londonnorrisfanclub Lando fr never beating those no rizz allegations

Carlossainz55 glad you had fun

Danielricciardo you are very welcome mate

Lando2024worldchamp why do I have a feeling that him, Carlos and Oscar put some sense into him Oscarpiastri that's cause we did Landonorris can you all stop embarrassing me now please Danielricciardo let us have some fun too

Y/nismine nooooooo not the vroom vroom guy who doesn't know whats flirting is stealing my wife

Landoxy/n so he heard that we knew about him rejecting the mother so he decided to show us that at the end of the day he got it?

a/n. I hope you enjoy it! There's no much y/n but at least the boys are funny. Also, my requests are always open so you can send anything! kisses:)

[onyourowndaisymae]

mistletoe mayhem

a/n: i wanted to get out a festive little piece before the holidays are over. sorry for the lack of posting-- i am so sleepy all the time. also i just got my wisdom teeth out so if this is nonsensical i do apologize. i am on several pain meds

characters + content: lucifer, satan, asmo, solomon, simeon x gn!reader

word count: ~1.3k

prompt: it's christmas at the demon lord's castle. drinks are flowing, music is blasting, and you're caught up in the fun of the party with everyone in the main hall. when you slip away to grab yourself another drink, however, you collide with another body in the doorway. who is that? and what's that above your head, dangling from the doorway... is that... mistletoe?

"Lucifer?"

colliding with the solid chest in front of you knocks some of the breath from your lungs. yet, you don't tumble to the unforgiving ground. you look up and see red eyes searching your face, gloved hands steadying you by the underside of your arms to keep you on your feet.

he breathes your name easily. "watch your step."

"my bad," you reply. you didn't even realize you were clutching the front of his coat until you let him go. lucifer's lips curl into an easy smirk as he crosses his arms.

you readjust your clothes and start to wander off with a polite nod, but his hand catches your arm again. "wait a moment."

"huh?"

his gloved finger points above you to the top of the doorframe. there, dangling above your head, is a bundle of mistletoe. you should have known lord diavolo would have the place decorated in such a way-- he'd been asking you for weeks about human traditions for the festive season. you must have told him about this one somewhere along the way. judging by the look on lucifer's face, he knows what exactly that leafy sprig means.

"mistletoe, is it not?" lucifer starts, then seems satisfied when you nod. "i owe you a kiss. if you'll allow it, of course." the smoothness of his offer makes your cheeks split with a delighted grin.

"i'd be offended if you didn't."

"and we can't have that, now can we? not during the holidays." and with that, his lips meet yours.

"Satan?"

a sharp swear hits your ears as strong hands catch you, gripping your shoulders with startling intensity as he somewhat forcibly props you back onto your own two feet.

satan's cheeks are flushed as he looks you up and down once more to make sure you're alright. his fingers find your shirt and dust you off once more for good measure.

"are you alright?"

"i'm okay," you answer, now secure in your own footing. "thank you for catching me."

"sorry for running into you in the first place."

there's a gap of silence. he shifts awkwardly on his feet, eyes flickering up above your heads to the top of the doorframe.

"is there something up there?" you ask. your gaze flits up above you to find a leafy sprig adorning the doorframe.

"if i'm not mistaken," satan says lowly, cheeks aflame and eyes darting from yours, "that's mistletoe. there's a human tradition where two people kiss if they're caught under it together-- i assume you've heard it?"

"i have."

there's another beat of silence where satan looks hesitant-- his body is angled towards yours, leaned in ever so slightly in interest, but his mouth doesn't move. the words won't come out. you can tell he's interested in the tradition, but he doesn't want to pressure you because of the tumble you almost took. you'd find it more endearing if it wasn't so silly.

"... do you want to give it a try? 'tis the season and all."

he lets out a breath you had noticed him holding and nods, scarlet in the cheeks as his fingers brush against yours. satan's lips find yours-- soft, grateful, melting into your touch as voices of your friends and family fade into the background.

"Asmo?"

"oh!"

two arms wind around your body, pressing you against him as the two of you fumble together lightly. you eventually find yourself unscathed and on your feet once more.

"sorry, hon, i didn't see you coming," asmo murmurs, fingers flitting over your form to help fix your hair and crumpled outfit.

"i'm sorry, too. i wasn't paying attention when i came around that corner. are you okay?"

"i'll be okay. now that i've got you alone, actually, i've been meaning to ask you about something."

a delighted little smile crosses his lips, and he takes your hands in his to coax you closer.

"anything, asmo. what's on your mind?"

"this whole mistletoe tradition solomon was telling me about, is it true? you really make out with someone under this plant? it sounds to me like one of the best human traditions i've heard in awhile."

"it's more of a kiss than a full make-out, but yes, sure, i do suppose it's an interesting tradition."

"and what's the plant look like?"

"uh, it's this leafy green little thing, usually tied up somewhere on the ceiling or in doorframes."

"like that?" asmo lifts a finger from your intertwined hands to point up with a devious grin. sure enough, above your head, you spot a sprig of mistletoe.

"you knew that was there, didn't you?"

"well i wanted to try out the tradition myself. and there's no one i'd rather do it with than you! so maybe i bumped into you on purpose to get you under here with me. is that so bad?"

as you find yourself leaning in to ring in the holiday season, you can't help but think maybe bumping into asmo under the mistletoe was a gift itself, even if it was a silly plot on his part.

"Solomon?"

"mc!"

your bodies bump together uncomfortably, and the two of you fumble together to stay standing. solomon's boyish laugh rings through the area, and you can't help but laugh a little yourself at the absurdity of almost bowling each other down on your way through the doorframe.

"are you alright?" he asks, giggles subsiding into a softness as his eyes scan you for any minor bruises or bumps.

"I'm alright. are you?"

"i am. better now that i have you alone."

"oh? and what is that supposed to mean?"

"did you happen to notice the mistletoe above us as you were walking this way?" solomon asks. your eyes drift upwards with his to see the plant hanging above your heads-- probably mistletoe, considering it's decorating the castle for the party, but honestly you'd never been close enough to know what it's really supposed to look like.

"not until now. assuming that's what that is."

"you think i'd lie about that?" he teases.

"oh, for sure. anything to get a kiss."

"ouch," solomon whines, pressing his hand against his chest to cover the emotional wound your words left. "i would never go so far as to deceive you. if i wanted a kiss, all i'd have to do is ask."

"that's true," you murmur, leaning in as he brushes his knuckles against your cheek.

silence.

"anyways," solomon starts, pulling away with a chesire grin and turning on his heel.

"solomon! you bastard! i thought you were gonna--!"

before you can protest further, his lips are on yours, grinning and kissing you senseless as he backs you up against that very doorframe-- to ensure you stay caught under the mistletoe, of course.

"Simeon?"

a gasp comes from the body you collide with, as sharp and unexpected as the collision you found yourself in. the body bumps into the doorframe with a muffled noise of surprise.

"oh, i'm so sorry! i didn't see you coming!" the apology is out of your mouth before simeon's fully steadied himself on his feet, but he's already chuckling jovially and reaching out to comfort you despite nearly tumbling to the ground.

"i'm sorry," he replies. "i should have been paying more attention."

he reaches behind him to adjust his cape, but his gloved fingers brush something caught in his hair and he frowns. you pull it out for him-- it's a decoration. leafy, green, christmas-y. you look above you to see the hook from which it hung in the doorframe now swinging empty after your collision.

"did i knock that over? i'll have to apologize to barbatos." simeon mutters. then, after a moment, "what is that?"

"mistletoe, i think."

"mistletoe?"

"it's a human realm plant," you tell the angel, twirling it in your fingers. "we hang it up around christmas time. it's for couples. when you stand underneath it together, you're supposed to kiss."

"oh," simeon answers quietly, cheeks heating up at your simple explanation. he looks pensive for a moment. "should i hang it back up?"

"huh?"

"well it sounds like a good excuse to kiss you, and i'm not one to let that chance pass me by. or can we just--?"

he gingerly slips the mistletoe from your fingers and holds it up above you, grinning bashfully. no more words are needed-- you answer the angel with a sweet kiss to mark the occasion.

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

#3 "i dare you to fuck me (hoshi)"

kinktober 2024 — #3

pairing: kwon soonyoung/ hoshi x reader

au/genre: smut, slightly fluffy (?), best friends!au

word count: 4293 words

warnings: brief nipple play, fingering (f receiving), not detailed oral (f receiving), awkwardness, a bet about orgasms, soonyoung has a big dick (how does this always happen?), piv sex (reader is on unspecified birth control), unrealistic stamina, cream pie 💞

a/n: I WUV HOSHI 🐯 also, can someone please count how many times i've described his body as muscular?

taglist: @rjreins @meowniee @deezbin @ant-onie @ablackbtsstan @gacktsa

"There just is no way you can do it, no one can!" A groan escapes you as you fall back onto your mattress, throwing a pillow over your face to hide your half-embarrassed, half-distressed feelings written all over your face. It's awfully quiet for a moment, and to have a peek to what you assume is happening, you remove the pillow, immediately being greeted with your best friend's face hovering mere inches in front of your own, signed with that look – and therefore be proven correctly.

"I think I can." Soonyoung grins, leaning in closer. His knees rest on each side next to your hips on the mattress, his hands creating deep imprints beside your shoulders as he stares down at you. Involuntarily, your breath hitches. You find yourself staring into his eyes, switching from one to the other as your own widen in realization that – maybe – you're not as much against the idea as you initially suspected.

Soonyoung is commonly known to be absolutely competitive. If everyone was backing down from a challenge, Soonyoung would be the last man standing, facing the difficulties and tearing them apart like a cheese grater. It is something you do admire about him, well, under normal circumstances that do not include your... your body.

"And I think you're being a creep," you announce, pressing your pointer finger to his forehead to push him away. With a whine, he compliantly retracts, a pout forming on his lips, all while you feel like you can finally breathe again. With a scoot, you sit up against the headboard, switching between looking at your best friend and fighting your hardest battle of trying not to look at him. 

"Well, I think you're not giving me a chance," he states, criss-crossing his toned legs that you probably shouldn't gaze upon right now to stand your point, but how could you when they're practically begging for you to bite into their muscly flesh?

"Well, I think-" You're forcing your eyes to take in anything but his thighs – a quest hard enough to bring even the strongest soldier to their knees in defeat – "that would cross boundaries that can't be un-crossed."

The playful glint in his eyes disappears suddenly, leaving him to contort his brows in concern. "For real?"

"I mean, yeah?" Your shoulders tense up and your fingers begin fiddling with a loose string on your sock. "Look, the thing is that I'm fine. I don't need to- you know."

The look he sends you is unbelieving, doubtful, unconvinced.

"It was just a random fact I threw into this conversation, I didn't mean for you to jump on the opportunity," you reason, hands gesturing weirdly in front of your chest.

"Alright, my bad," he grins and you thank the universe for the one thing that characterizes your best friend more than his competitiveness: his naivety to believe every lie you tell. Because if he'd tried convincing you for a minute longer, you would've presumably given in. It's not like you don't want to, it's not like the voice between your legs hasn't yearned for Soonyoung's touch once or twice or thrice or more in the past years of being friends. It's just that- how does one move on from that?

"Great!"

"I mean it's your choice if you don't want to cum." Soonyoung shrugs, eyebrows risen with a sly smile on his face as he turns his head, then side-eyes you.

"Exactly." You grin fakely.

"I mean, not to brag, but the feeling is pretty great."

"I know. I can do it myself."

"Sure, but" he sighs dreamily "it's different through the hands of another person."

"Weren't we going to play Mario Kart?" You ask through gritted teeth, trying to change the topic away from your sex-life. Soonyoung might be great at a lot of things, most things even, but how can you be sure he's good at this too? How does one move on from that – okay, maybe that’s somehow possible… but how does one move on from that failing miserably?

"Oh, of course," Soonyoung scoots to sit down next to you and presses a controller into your hands. You would like to say the cool material eases the sweaty feeling of your palms, but it actually intensifies, highlights the feeling, and you try your best to ignore how it threatens to glide from your wet digits every passing second. Not long after, the game starts with Soonyoung immediately taking first place. You try to concentrate, mood dropping when you have to, once again, realize that he is pretty much unbeatable. Saltily, you side-eye him, only to see a smug grin on his face. "What can I say, I'm pretty good with my hands."

"Oh, for God's sake!" You throw the controller down, crossing your arms over your chest and watch Soonyoung win the game just seconds later. Slowly, he turns his head towards you, grinning evilly.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles sweetly and you huff, then get ready for the next round which goes by just as quickly as the first, and with the same outcome. Annoyed, you throw the controller across the bed only for it to bounce off the edge and hit the floor with a thump. 

"You seem pretty tense, maybe I should help you relax," Soonyoung grins, and you wish upon the Gods to either let the ground swallow you whole or to give you a way to wipe his awful smugness off his handsome features.

Maybe you could punch him. It would most certainly shut him up, but you're not a violent person. You like peace, you like the pigeons, and punching him would only result in the same outcome of a ruined friendship, but without the fun.

Maybe you could kiss him. It would also ruin the friendship, but at least you get half the fun. 

Maybe you should just go for broke.

"Okay," you simply say. Judging by the look that takes over Soonyoung's face, he is definitely surprised, but not opposed. He blinks, bottom lip pushing forward in disbelief.

"What?"

"Do it," you demand, grabbing the remote to turn of the TV (the Mario Kart Theme Song is not the ideal background music for getting intimate with your best friend, you decide) and lay down on your back. With a swift motion, you lose your pants, kicking them off your legs and down the bed to pool in a little jean-mountain next to the controller you'd sent off earlier.

Soonyoung looks like he's been petrified while looking at a pot of freshly made budae jiggae. It takes him another split of a second to collect himself before he comes crawling over to you. "Are you sure?" 

"I'm sure that if you don't do something right now I will kick you out and keep your switch," you answer blandly and, in the same breath, wonder when all of your uncertainty turned into passive-aggressiveness and impatience. 

"I didn't pressure you into this, right?" Soonyoung's stare into your eyes is so intense that a part of you melts, but a different part of you wants to show him, to prove him wrong. There is no one who's ever been patient enough with you to make you finish, so maybe it's your poor choice of men, maybe it's your body, maybe it's something else entirely. Of course it bothered you at first, but you've come to terms with it. That was until today. There is just no way that he can bring you an orgasm. It cannot be that simple.

"I swear to God-"

"Can I kiss you?" Soonyoung's voice sounds so soft, uncharacteristically soft. He's appeared besides you, finally settled in laying on his side, slightly towering over your form. The scent of his cologne meets your nostrils as you dare to look up at him, a dark gaze set upon his eyes that makes you gulp, throat drying up with the thought of what's to come.

"Just do whatever you need to-" You don't even get to finish before his soft lips press against yours. He slips his hand beneath your chin to lift it up the slightest bit for better access. His mouth moves gently against your own, obnoxious sounds of lips parting and connecting again litters the quiet room. Sounds that would usually make you gag upon hearing them, but something about it being him makes it okay, makes you not even realize. 

It's then when you notice his hand leaving your chin, trusting the way your lips move against his own that you will not pull away without the support. He traces your form, hand stroking over your sides to come to a quick halt at your hips. You gasp as he moves it up again to gently trace the outlines of your breasts through your shirt. 

Tingling sensations of want spray through your body like a miniature firework. Soonyoung knows how to touch you, even though he never has, not like that, and when his thumb brushes over your clothed nipple, you gasp against his lips.

You just know he's going to be smug about it, you're not even surprised when you feel him smirk against your lips before resuming to kiss you deeply, adding a little tongue to lick over your lower lip, not yet begging for entry.

His hand leaves your breast, and you feel a little disappointed until you realize he pushes your shirt upwards to create real, skin-on-skin contact with your nipple again. You'd be surprised at how easy it was for you to let yourself go for him, to let him in, to let him explore, if you could concentrate on anything but the way his self-declared skillful fingers are making you feel right now. 

With your shirt pushed further up to reveal your body to his eyes, his lips leave yours to attach to a nipple instead, sensually licking and sucking on the bud to leave you back-arched and hungry for more. You voice your wish, and Soonyoung, not without a chuckle, lets go of your breasts to kiss you once again. 

His hand leaves your chest to travel south, tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach briefly before exploring the sensitivity of your thighs. He traces soft patterns on the supple flesh, riling you up even more before finally attending to your clothed core. 

At the first touch, your eyes roll back behind closed lids, hips bucking into his touch as if having a mind of their own. You know he can feel how your wetness drenched the flimsy material of your panties, and when he finally reaches inside, you feel much less like needing to prove a point. To say his fingers feel good would be an understatement, you would even dare say that you've never had someone else’s touch feel this good.

Soonyoung glides a finger through your folds, collecting enough of your wetness to spread upwards over your clit, then begins circling it. The action makes you clench around nothing. He knows just how to touch you, and you start to believe that he might actually be able to make it happen.

His motions, speed and pressure intensify over time, making you grasp the sheets to keep yourself from thrashing around. At this point, you don't even realize the sounds you're making, nor the volume of them, only spurring Soonyoung on to keep touching you just like that. 

Pressure begins building. Your heart skips a beat, then hammers away at twice its original pace to make up for it. The familiar knot in your stomach keeps forming, you cry out, hands, touching everywhere at once to find the closure of knowing what to do with yourself, finding refugee on Soonyoung's shirt. Your lips are no longer connected, instead your forehead rests pressed against his, allowing your panting breath to tickle his lips.

It's happening, it's going to happen-

It’s… it’s gone.

As slowly as it came, it ended abruptly. It still feels good, everything feels so, so good. You feel yourself being on fire, every part of you yearns to feel Soonyoung, more of Soonyoung and Soonyoung everywhere. It's just not enough.

Whether he felt your build up and crashing or not, he does not seem to be ready to give up just yet, instead reaching down to insert a finger into your waiting hole, then another. His movements are neat, concentrated on making you see stars with the way he drags along your walls, pads of his fingers pressing upward to massage into your spot just right.

It builds, it builds, and it's gone.

Reading your signs, Soonyoung moves to lie between your legs. The absolutely drenched material of your panties meets the floor moments later before Soonyoung dives in, lips and tongue connecting to form a firework of sensations between your legs. But it's just not enough, you realize, and you feel like crying. It can't be, he is doing everything right, better than right, so why isn't it working?

"S-Soonyoung-" you bring out. "It's not- it's not working."

"Are you sure? I mean, I could-"

"I can't. It's not going to happen."

"Just let go-"

"I can't!"

"Please-"

"Just let it go!"

It's not awkward, it just feels a little weird. None of you had realized just how much time Soonyoung spent between your thighs, and the reality came crashing down on you as you looked at your phone to overcome the awkward silence, showing numbers that indicated that Soonyoung's last bus was gone for good and there was no way for him to get home.

Hence, the two of you stare holes into the darkness lying next to each other on your bed about half an hour later. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't-" Soonyoung whispers into the quiet room.

"That's why I told you, it's impossible," you whine, hiding your face in your hands even though he can't see you anyway. 

"Was it... just not good in general?" The uncertainty in Soonyoung's voice is uncharacteristic for him, voice usually overflowing with confidence to a point where it's almost unbearably annoying sometimes. It makes your heart ache.

"No, you were not the problem. You did... everything right, to be honest. I don't want to stroke your already massive ego too much, but I've never been touched like that," you admit, turning to your side to face where you assume him to be.

"Phew," he says, and you can hear the playfulness in his voice clearly. You roll your eyes, but crack a smile. Rustling noises coming from Soonyoung's side of the bed, paired with dipping motions of the mattress that let you guess that Soonyoung's turned to face you as well. Carefully, you reach out to touch him.

"That's my f-, I swear to God if your finger ends up in my nose, that's your problem- no wait, I'll turn on the light," Soonyoung says and follows his own words with actions, and you giggle, closing your eyes to shield them from the stinging brightness of your lamp and scooting your body closer to Soonyoung until you can feel the warmth radiating from his body not only on your hand, that's touching his chest. It's silent for a minute.

"It was really good..." you admit again, Soonyoung's scent reminding you of the happenings earlier, and maybe this is your subconsciousness telling you to try it again, but you're unaware of it.

"If I didn't know any better, I could swear you're trying to fuck me right now," Soonyoung laughs and earns slaps to his chest from you until he has enough and grabs your wrist. "For real though..."

"What?"

"Let's try it again- wait! Hear me out," he warns, and you shut your opening mouth in defeat. "Let's make it a competition, whoever cums first has to buy ice cream tomorrow."

"Ice cream?" You mumble, head spinning a little at his eagerness to try again. You can't believe that this is only his competitiveness speaking, yet you can only speculate the reason why he is so head over heels at the idea of being intimate with you again.

"Ice cream," he confirms, but the tone of his voice dropped in both deepness and volume. A tingling sensation washes over your body, causing your breath to come out shakily as you subconsciously press yourself closer to Soonyoung.

"But isn't ice cream like really cheap? Shouldn't we compete for something a little more... expensive?" You don't notice how your tone changed as well, making it sound like you're unintentionally purring your words.

"It's not about the ice cream, silly," Soonyoung tsks, making you look up at him once again by lifting your chin, "I just want you."

You whimper at that, and fortunately, Soonyoung is quick enough to pull you into another kiss before you can feel embarrassed about your shameless display of attraction. Quickly, the kiss gets heated, yet not hasty, no teeth clashing, no lips crashing, just raw desire and a little too much spit. It’s perfect.

Soonyoung’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer, before shamelessly reaching for the supple flesh of your ass, generously groping a cheek with his hand, making you whimper once again, uncoordinated hands tugging at his shirt, wanting it off, wanting to see the bulky richness of the body you know he’s sculpted to upmost perfection at the gym in the past years.

Following your desperate request, Soonyoung pulls the fabric over his head, he himself too affected to even act cocky about you wanting an opportunity to visually take in his beefy torso, instead panting softly as his intense gaze meets yours.

Though not for long, as yours immediately falls to his strong chest, muscles visibly bulging through his skin, and you can feel yourself gulping from drooling so much. Your nimble fingers quickly find their way onto his skin, softly exploring the wide expanse of muscle paradise as your lips find his again. 

Soonyoung softly grunts into your mouth as your fingertips briefly circle his assumably sensitive nipple, then softly pushes you onto your back to hover above you effortlessly, strong arms wrapping around your figure before pulling your shirt off as well.

The in between is a bit of a blur, every glimpse at Soonyoung's body enough to get your head spinning, every one of his touches feeling electric with how turned on you are, and soon, there's not a layer of clothing separating you. 

Soonyoung reaches down gently, spreading your folds with his fingers to find your wetness greeting him once again, insisting on preparing you for what's to come as he softly kisses along your neck.

This time, you feel, he's less determined, there's no goal in his mind, he genuinely wants to explore the depths of you, every little part he missed in his determination earlier. But that doesn't make it any less mind blowing.

“You’re so… perfect,” he mumbles into your neck, the sound almost getting lost in your gasps and soft moans as he stretches you with three of his digits. 

“Soonyoung…” you whimper needily, trembling hands running down his body, reaching their destination as you wrap a hand around his length. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” you gasp in mild surprise, unable to hold back the implied compliment, and the charged atmosphere briefly lightens as Soonyoung lets out a soft chuckle. 

“You want it?” He asks, and it’s not only a question of if, but also him trying to gauge if you're ready for him yet.

“Mm,” you hum in approval, hooded eyes hazily looking up at him as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Soonyoung lets out one last breathy chuckle before aligning himself with your entrance, intense gaze meeting yours as he carefully shifts forward, his tip briefly catching on your hole before sliding inside.

Your breath hitches at the stretch despite his preparations, yet you want more, you want all of him, all of Soonyoung as deeply as possible, and to never let him go. And he complies, slowly pushing deeper and deeper, every vein dragging deliciously along your walls that struggle to adjust to the intrusion.

With your eyes rolling back, you let out a soft groan, hands grabbing onto his bulging biceps for any form of stability as your head spins, his tip seeming to slide deeper endlessly, his cock filling you to the very brim before he finally bottoms out.

“Holy shit,” Soonyoung grunts softly, panting breaths leaving his parted lips, eyebrows scrunched in a mix of raw pleasure and trying to hold himself back from just pounding into you right now.

He takes a deep breath, grabbing onto your thigh to adjust it around his waist before stroking all the way over the flesh of your ass and up your waist where he rests his hand to hold you in place as he pulls back slightly, then thrusts experimentally.

A whine escapes your parted lips, fireworks going off behind closed lids, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy at the feeling combined with the mere reality of this situation. Soonyoung’s inside you, reaching depths that you’d naively describe as uncharted territory, and, God, he feels heavenly. And your body seems to agree, clenching automatically as if not wanting to ever let him pull out entirely again.

Soonyoung gasps, then buries his face in your neck again, lips attaching to your skin, peppering open mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach as he repeats his thrust before setting a slow yet steady pace.

Moans tumble from your mouth uncontrollably, the bet about ice cream long forgotten, as well as your uncertainty about whether you can even cum from someone else's touch. 

And Soonyoung takes you for hours, pushing your legs and body into every possible position one could think of, whispering sweet yet dirty nothings into your ear for only you to hear, and gifting you the best night of your life. 

By the time he announces that he's close, he’s a panting mess, a layer of sweat covering his muscular body while the wetness between your legs has increased to a point where it's almost too slippers, and yet all you feel is pure bliss.

“Cum in me,” you gasp breathlessly, your legs feeling like jelly at this point, “it’s fine… cum in me…”

With his last remaining strength, Soonyoung’s head snaps up, a look of pure astonishment on his face, “for real?”

“Y-yeah.. yeah, I’m-,” you interrupt yourself with a moan as Soonyoung’s thrusts pick up, “yeah..”

“Oh my God..” Soonyoung’s moans get whinier, a tad higher in pitch as he gets closer and closer. He’s managed to manhandle you back into your original position with you on your back, and his hands grip onto your waist to be able to piston his hips into you faster, his face buried in your neck as he grunts in pleasure, “oh, fuck, thank you…”

His thrusts get sloppier, almost losing their rhythm and all you can focus on is how his body slowly tenses up more and more, the veins on his strong forearms bulging as he moans your name into your neck needily. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

Just as you open your mouth to encourage him once again, he picks up his pace yet again, pounding his hips into yours with such force and speed that it makes the bed crash against the wall repeatedly. It takes you by surprise, your back arching and your jaw dropping at the sudden overwhelming sensation, your nails digging into the skin of Soonyoung’s wide shoulders.

He pushes into you harder and harder, as if losing himself completely, his moans growing louder and louder, maybe a bit too loud for the time of night, but neither of you care, merely focused on the pleasure you’re both feeling. 

Soonyoung bottoms out again, once, twice, before pushing in impossibly deep, and you can physically feel the exact moment he orgasms, his length pulsating wildly and a warm sensation filling you, and that’s when it happens. 

With a soft, tired whine, you feel the knot in your stomach, that you didn’t even notice was forming, snap, your own walls clamping down around Soonyoung repeatedly, albeit rather softly and not as intense as Soonyoung’s high. It takes you a moment to realize.

Your eyes widen. Was that…? The same moment, Soonyoung’s head snaps up, his eyes as wide as your own. Oh, he felt it.

“Did you…?” He whispers, as if afraid that if he talked too loudly, it would turn back time and undo your orgasm.

With parted lips, you stare back at him, “I… y-yeah…”

You expected everything from a cocky remark over an ick-triggering victory dance to an actual orgasm-celebration party featuring everyone Soonyoung’s known since birth, but Soonyoung just leans back down and hugs you tightly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper back. Hesitantly due to your surprise, you slowly brush your fingers through his hair, suddenly deeply in thought.

Soonyoung actually made you cum? And it was… that easy? Well, despite the fact that it took literal hours… and why did it happen when he- and generally, what now?

“Can I take you out on a date after getting you ice cream?” Soonyoung suddenly speaks up, too exhausted to lift his head once more so his voice gets muffled in your neck.

“Huh?” You ask, sure you must’ve misheard him.

“Date…” is all Soonyoung can mumble.

“You-,” you begin, but quickly shut up. Why not? “Yeah, why not?”

“Fabulous,” Soonyoung mumbles, then presses a wet kiss to your shoulder. A few minutes pass by before he speaks up again. “I’m feeling sticky. Are you feeling sticky? Let’s shower…” he lifts his head, then slowly begins grinning. “We can reminisce about this experience in there…”

Ah, there he is. 

© 2024 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[lis-likes-fics]

Dramatic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x adhd!bau!Reader Word Count: 2.9k words Warnings: Social anxiety, character with ADHD, crying, emotional hurt/comfort... A/N: I embarrassed myself a little bit and that day will haunt me forever. Enjoy!

Spencer slows as he comes up on your desk. He furrows his brows and looks around, noting your absence with a confused look on his face. Closing his book in his hand, he shifts it under his arm and turns to Emily opposite your empty seat.

Before he can even finish his inhale, she's already speaking. “Last time I saw her, she had to go print something out.”

“When was that?”

Emily looks away from the bright light of her screen in favor of checking her watch. “About fifteen minutes ago?” She shrugs, “I assume she got caught up with something.”

She spins around in her chair in a rather dramatic manner, turning to face JJ in the desk behind her. “You seen my desk buddy anywhere?”

“Printer.” She doesn't even look up.

“That's what I said.”

JJ hums a little. “She probably just got distracted.” She looks over her shoulder at Spencer for the first time, though not for long. “I'd check the printer.”

With a spark of genius, Emily's brows lift as she turns back to her screen. “If she's not there, she could be with Garcia.”

JJ just points her finger over at Emily and hums, still lounging back in her chair as her focus glares at whatever she's filling out at her computer.

“Thanks, guys.” Spencer sets his book down on your desk, turning on his heel to find the printing room where you have supposedly been hanging out for the past fifteen minutes.

He doesn't know what would keep you that long. You're not social enough to have gotten caught up talking, and your distractions are so easy as to keep you from returning to your desk (especially not when Emily is there to keep you company).

Plus, you hate the printing room. The printers are practically always running, and there's this weird clacking noise from one of the machines that unnerves you every time you have the misfortune of having to listen to it.

As he expects, you're not there. There's one guy standing in front of one of the printers, beating his hand on the side to get it to work. Other than that, however, you're nowhere to be found and Spencer is starting to worry.

Realistically, he knows that he shouldn't. You're in a building surrounded by FBI agents, and you're smart enough to know exactly how to tip someone off if you're in trouble. You're so smart, you'd realize there was danger long before it actually hit (because you pay too much attention to little details and sometimes forget about the more obvious things in front of you). He's lucky enough that any UnSub striking the FBI is likely too intelligent not to be meticulous.

But anyway, it doesn't matter because you're not in danger, and maybe you're just with Penelope or using the bathroom or (not in the break room, he already checked) or even–

Shoot.

“Hi.”

Penelope’s door was open, so he let himself in with a gentle knock on the door. Derek is there. He's leaning against one of her desks as she works. They're talking about something Spencer suspects to be too suggestive for his interest.

“Oh!” Penelope turns around in her seat with so much enthusiasm. She almost seems amazed as she looks upon him. “Spencer Reid, coming to visit me. Hello! How are you, my little knick knack?”

Derek chuckles, gesturing for him to join the two with a charming smile.

“I'm good,” he says. He asks about you.

Penelope’s brows join together as she shakes her head. “Oh, I don't know,” she answers matter-of-factly. “I have not seen her. Why? Is she okay?” Her worry creates a crease at her brows that deepens with every second that her question is unanswered.

“You lost your girl, pretty boy?” Derek gently nudges Spencer's shoulder.

“Not lost, just…” he shrugs, “misplaced.”

He hums. “She hasn't come by, no. Last time I saw her was early in the break room with you.”

Spencer scratches the back of his neck. Sorting through his mind about all the places you could be. If you left the building, you would've told someone, so you're definitely still here. You don't have any meetings either, so he's genuinely confused as to where you could possibly be hiding.

“I was hoping I'd find her here.”

Penelope raises a suggestive hand. “Well, I can look on the cameras, if you want.” She wheels around in her chair. She's already tapping away on her keyboard with a loud clickity-clack. “I'm sure we can find her somewhere in here.”

“When did you last see her?” Derek asks.

“I saw her at her desk twenty one minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago, but Emily said she went to the printing room about fifteen minutes ago.”

Penelope mutters to herself as she types in her perimeters. “Okay. Printers, fifteen minutes. And…” She clicks her tongue. “There she is!”

Spencer feels a wave of relief at seeing you standing by one of the machines. You're popping your knuckles, staring dutifully at the printer like you're determined to grab them and go.

“Okay, waiting on papers. Let's fast forward a bit, and then…” Penelope’s as fast as the cameras as she watches you leave the room with your stack clutched to your chest. Your gaze is following your feet, which are taking you down the halls and in the wrong direction of your desk.

When you turn into a room, all of them are a little confused. Derek most of all. “My office?” He turns to Spencer with a furrowed brow. “What's she doin’ in my office?”

“Cameras don't show her leaving. She should still be in there right now.” Penelope adjusts her glasses on her nose, turning back around.

“That’s odd,” he mumbles. “Thank you, Garcia.”

Spencer's already locked into his task when he turns around without another word. Derek calls him, interrupting his alertness.

“Whatever you do,” he tilts his head like he's warning him, his eyes narrowed playfully as he smirks, “keep it PG in my office, okay?”

Spencer almost blushes at the notion. Penelope smacks him square in his chest, looking up like he's scolding Derek for his behavior. But he only raises his hands high in surrender. “Hey! Mama, I'm just jokin’,” he laughs, his face split into one of his charming smiles. “I'm playin’!”

Spencer purses his lips in that dorky way that you always say you love. He excuses himself in favor of finding you. The path to Derek's office is an easy and familiar path. He ends up opening the door not long after.

He doesn't see you.

Spencer's eyes sweep the office once more and find Derek's chair further away from his desk than it's meant to be—that is, if he pushed it in properly to begin with.

With a gentle sigh, he takes slow, quiet steps to round the large desk. He kneels when he gets to the other side, feeling the worry dissolve and take another shape all within the same second.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is so soft, this quiet little whisper that doesn't stir you too much.

You have your arms wrapped around your knees, your face buried away within them. You don't move, and you don't seem to be crying, so at least that isn't an issue. Your voice is muffled by your arms.

“Hi.” You don't look up. “How’d you find me?” you mutter, still not moving from your position.

“Penelope.”

You sigh, finally lifting your head. “Penny.” He almost laughs at the way you say it, like you're accusing her of a crime.

“Can I join you?” he asks gently.

You nod without a word. Spencer moves to sit across from you. He's so long, it takes quite a bit of maneuvering to fit himself into the small space. He's slouched over like some real life origami. His legs have no choice but to reach all the way over into your space and box you in with him. You don't mind much.

He lets you both sit in silence for a while. You seem to really need it. He doesn't decide to speak until you finally look at his face, your eyes flitting across it like you're trying to find something.

“What's wrong?”

You shake your head, looking away again. It breaks his heart to watch the way you huddle into yourself. “It's stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” he protests kindly. He reaches a hand out to cradle the back of your leg. His hand is warm, it feels good even through the fabric of your slacks. “Not if it's making you feel like this.”

You don't respond. Spencer's mouth twitches to the side. He taps your leg lightly. “What happened?”

You sigh, taking a moment before you lift your head to see him again. There's a tiny crease in his brows. His eyes are narrowed just a bit. He's genuinely concerned, and it makes you feel bad because the reason you're upset is so…trivial.

“We deal with death every day, and most of the time, I come out of it okay,” you say under your breath, shaking your head at yourself, “but this is what gets me.”

“What's ‘this’?” he presses gently.

You lick your bottom lip and speak slowly. “I went to print some papers, and this lady walked up and waved at me, so I waved back at her and…”

He thinks he knows where this is going. “Yeah?”

There’s an element of self-depreciation when you respond, and your words from earlier echo sadly in his head at the thought that you might be hearing it, too—it’s stupid. “Well, it turns out, she’s not even waving at me. She’s waving to this other lady standing next to me.” You shake your head, looking down as if to remember something. “And she kinda, like…gave me this look.”

“Was it a mean one?” He hopes not. He loves you too much for someone to be giving you mean looks. He wants you to feel safe and happy, and you don’t.

You shake your head. “No, she looked…maybe a little confused or even, like…apologetic, but it was a look.” He watches you bury your head again, hiding away in your embarrassment. “I should not be hiding because of a look.”

Spencer sets a reassuring hand on your knee. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed about something like that.”

When you lift your head again, he can see tears you’d tried so hard to keep back shining in your eyes. His heartstrings tug behind his ribcage. He thinks you’re gonna kill him one day. “I know!” you sniffle, refusing to let any of your tears spill. “I know, but I do, and it’s ridiculous.”

“But…” he says, like he isn’t finished, “it’s also perfectly okay to be embarrassed about something like that.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and looking to the side again. “Please.” A tear spills over, and you catch it quickly. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down hard. He’s worried you’ll draw blood. “I overreact or underreact to literally everything. When are my feelings ever reasonable?”

He would scoot closer if his body structure allowed it, but, alas, he is too long. “All the time. They never stop being reasonable,” he reassures. He sighs gently, wanting so badly to make sure you know how much he adores you. “Can I hold your hand?”

You look back at him, swallowing thickly as you slowly raise your hand for him to take. It means a lot, actually, that he wants to hold your hand. Too many germs. Your chest feels warm with your adoration of him. He gives you a smile, and you almost hide for a different reason.

Holding his eye contact is so hard sometimes. He has such pretty eyes, it’s a shame how hard it is to look at them when you get like this. You want to kiss him, to let him know.

Instead, you just squeeze his hand. “She probably already forgot it happened.” You chew on your bottom lip. “And I’ve been hiding under Derek’s desk for the past, like, ten minutes because I can’t forget about it.”

Spencer doesn’t want to tell you that it’s been twelve minutes and sixteen seconds. You hide your face once again more, dramatically this time. “This will haunt me forever.”

His lip quirks but he tries not to smile too much. “Hey.”

“I know. It’s childish.”

“That isn’t what I was going to say,” he smiles. He ducks his head in the hopes of catching your eyes, but he waits for you to look up first. “You know what I’m going to say?”

You do look at him. He’s so sweet, now you can’t look away. “What?”

He leans forward, feeling his back spine stretching as he does. His large hand sets against your cheek, and you lean into the warmth. He gives you a smile that you call charming, though he probably wouldn’t agree. “I love you.”

You can’t help it. The way he makes you feel is reminiscent of a teenager who just shared eye contact with her crush. He wipes your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb, clearing away any water left behind by the few tears that had escaped your clutches. “Stop,” you giggle, turning away.

He guides your face back. His grin is this huge, mushy thing on his face that squints his eyes until his lashes kiss. “Never,” he mutters affectionately. He loves to see you smile. “I love you. Especially when you care a little too much about an accidental wave.”

You catch him in his words, raising your brows accusingly. He’s helping your anxiety tremendously, and you probably won’t realize it until you’ve fully recovered. “So you agree that this is stupid?”

He laughs, shaking his head quickly. His voice, not as soft anymore, is filled to the brim with his happiness “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that I love you because you’re so amazing, and I want you to know it.” He traces the underside of your eyelashes, reluctantly slipping his hand off your cheek. “No matter how many times you wave at someone who isn’t actually waving at you.”

You’re still giggly. “Spencer.” You shift your legs, not without difficulty, to sit in a criss-cross position. Spencer mimics you (with even more difficulty than you). He has to bend down a little so he’ll fit.

“It’s the truth.”

“Well…” you try to dull your giggles to a simmering bubbly feeling in your chest, “I love you, too. Even when I think you’re crazy for loving me…” You think about that for a moment. “Especially when I think you’re crazy for loving me.”

Spencer holds your cheek again and pulls you in for a kiss. You savor this one, your noses brushing affectionately as you do. Spencer doesn’t kiss you at work.

“Will you come back to your desk with me?” he whispers, his lips brushing yours.

You nod gently. “Yeah.”

Spencer smiles, pecking your cheek. He lets go of you to untuck himself from under the desk. He has to stretch his body out before he offers his hand for you. You take it, hoisting yourself up to stand next to him. “Those are mine.” You gesture toward the papers on Derek’s desk as you brush off your pants.

He doesn’t wait for you, he just scoops them into his hands. “I’ve got them.”

“Thanks,” you grin. He sneaks one more kiss, this one to your temple.

You look up at him and hold your arms open, a quiet request. Spencer’s happy to answer your request, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that pulls you closer to him than you feel like you’ve ever been. He takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes and sighing longingly.

When you pull away, you walk with him. His hand hangs down by his side, and you glance at it as you brush your pinky with his. He smiles, but he doesn’t look over at you.

It’s been hardly ten seconds since you left the office, and your phone is ringing. You furrow your brow, fishing it from your pocket and glancing down at the screen. You sigh gently, silently appreciating her because she means so much.

You put her on speaker. “Penny?”

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” she asks immediately, her voice full of worry. You glance at Spencer, who still doesn’t turn to you. He’s smiling, though, so you know that he knows you’re watching him.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” she asks. “I can go to you. I’ll bring the squishy that you like!”

Your voice fades into a laugh. “I’m okay, Pen, really.”

“Did my desk help?”

The way Derek’s voice sounds when he speaks up makes you flush a little. You keep your voice level, still looking up to stare at Spencer. You trust him not to let you run into anything as he suppresses his smile with the thin line of his lips. “Yes, Morgan, it was very nice.” You raise a brow. “Am I going to hear Prentiss next?”

He laughs. “Just li’l ole me.”

“And me. I’m still here.” Penelope makes you laugh.

“Goodbye, both of you.”

“Bye, honey bun.” “Bye!” You hang up on them.

Spencer’s warmth seeps into your side. You resist the urge to lay your head on his shoulder because you’re supposed to be professional at work. Instead, you sigh and let your pinkies brush. “I love our friends.”

Spencer smiles. “Me, too.”

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake Tag yourself here...

[httpsghostie]

ok this is the video i mentioned, like imagine könig in this, i want to tie his hands and feet and make a mess out of him :((( imagine him crying out of frustration that he can't touch you (and he makes a mental note to punish you as soon as he gets released), so overwhelmed and trying to scape the entire time, so cute :(( you make the context, my brain isn't creative enough to think of how we end up in this situation. sorry if i misspelled something and again i love your blog it's amazing !!*:! also i'm sorry if this make you unconfortable somehow idk?

Enemy pt 1

pt 2

TW: porn

and I strike again with another questionable scenario

this is just... I... uhm... well...

there's no such thing as crossing the limits with me I'm a fucking whore

Summary: you interrogate an enemy soldier in a different approach.

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: smut, König x female!reader, they're both a bit crazy, male overstimulation, edging, knife play (if you squint), glove kink, no use of y/n

masterlist

Recently, your team had brought an enemy for interrogation, and you were the one assigned to get the job done.

"Make him talk, we don't care how." They said.

You got in the cell, hands sweating nervously as you saw the man you were dealing with. You've met before, a long while ago, and he didn't change a thing. He's still arrogant, like he wasn't far within a hostile environment, his hands and feet in chains, in a cell that has never seen daylight. The only thing in the room being the chair he was sitting on and a fucked up mattress.

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, not knowing if he was able to recognize you from the mask you wore. But your voice, he could never forget the sweet melody of your voice moaning his name a few years ago when he fucked you senseless at an abandoned house, in the middle of war.

It happened fast, you were sweeping the place and he was there. You missed your shot when he pushed your gun upwards and tried to strangle you, but soon backed down when saw you were a defenseless damsel in distress.

And you found yourself pressed against a wall being fucked by an enemy soldier, just because he felt like it.

You try to shake off the thoughts that creep on your dirty brain, and as soon as the door gets locked behind you, his body relaxes on the chair. 

"So, we meet again." He cleared his throat. Pretentious prick. 

"König." You start, raising your eyebrows. "I guess you won't be using your free will to tell me what the code is, will you?" You walked towards him, he was still tall, even when he was sunk on the chair with his legs spreaded.

"My free will has better things to do than to hand out codes like candy at a parade. I prefer keeping my secret to myself. Yours too." You could feel the creepy smile that lit up his face. How could you ever do that to yourself?

"They won't believe you." You shrug, slowly walking from side to side on the cell, arms behind your back, your heavy boots hitting the concrete floor. "They're too busy torturing your general for info." His eyes widened and he straightened himself on the chair, tensing up. "So, what are you hiding, pretty boy?"

He flexed his muscles in response, trying to get rid of the chains that kept him restrained. But the praise, coming from your lips, it was impossible for him to contain an enormous wave of heat that destroyed any ounce of self respect he had. He lowered his head, but looked at you through his eyebrows.

"I assume we'll have to do this the hard way then." You took the knife from your belt and stood in front of him, running it along his collarbone and stopping at his chin, lifting it up. "Such a beautiful pair of eyes you got, 'wonder what you hide behind that hood." You say, lifting the fabric of his mask.

"Gonna use flirting as your way to get around this?" He chuckles, looking away.

"I'm offended." You fake a gasp and hold a hand to your chest. "Wasn't that what you did to me?" You're just able to get a laugh from him.

"You wanted that to happen." He looked at your eyes again.

"And you're wanting, too." You stick the knife in the wooden chair between his legs and he jolts in panic.

"Fuck, are you insane?" He looks down and at you again, and you laugh. 

You crouch in front of him, spreading his legs further, and laying your elbow on his thigh. The tip of your finger touches the end of your knife and plays with it, watching how his thighs tense.

"I might be." You say, looking at him. "But I always get what I want."

"You're fucking crazy." He chuckles and looks to the sides, trying to contain his embarrassment as a bulge slowly shows up on his pants.

You take the knife from the chair and put it on your belt again, moving your gloved hands towards his belt and pulling him up. He's heavy as fuck, it was almost impossible to do it if he didn't stand up, towering over you.

You pushed him back, and because of his feet tangled in chains, he fell back on the mattress, bucking his hips up as you eagerly unfastened his belt.

"You weren't this straightforward when we first met." He chuckled and looked up.

"What can I say? 'Guess your taste is addictive." You remembered the bitter taste of his release when he ruthlessly fucked your throat back in that house.

You pulled his hard member out, lifting your mask just below your nose to spit on it, and he whines as you wrap your gloved hand around it, jerking it up and down slowly. He pleads, trying to fuck your hand, but you pull away chuckling and he sighs.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?" You ran your finger along his length, stopping at his tip.

"I won't talk." He gritted his teeth.

"Then you won't cum." You give him a sly smile as you pull the mask down again.

Your hand grabs his dick, jerking it roughly, and he can't help but whine as he tries to get away from your touch. He's so desperate it's pathetic, and he moans as you set the pace.

He tries to move, to get away from the chains, he thinks about how bad he wants to be free and pin you down on the mattress and fuck you until you're begging him to stop, knowing he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.

Your touch becomes too much on him, almost too harsh to bear, and he cries as he feels his cock throbbing as hard as it could, knowing that he wouldn't last long if you kept going this way.

And suddenly, as he's about to cum, you pull away again, leaving him whimpering at the sudden loss of contact.

"Fuck, why did you do this?" He whines desperately.

"It's simple, you give me what I want and I'll give you what you want." You shrug, grabbing his member once again and going fast on it. He cries, feeling his high approaching once again.

"I'm not talking." He shakes uncontrollably.

"Aww, stubbornness only turns me on." You say. He's too overwhelmed to think about an answer, trying to get away from your grip.

You feel his body tensing up again, his hips bucking up, chasing his so wanted release. Your hand keeps its pace, but your other one blocks his tip just as he's about to cum, watching his vein twitch. He's crying and cursing at you in german, his heavy balls filled with cum as he was being denied once again.

"Come on, I'm not gonna let go until you tell me, and it's only gonna hurt more." You say, letting his dick fall back to his stomach, and one of your hands grabs his balls. He's still shaking, completely overstimulated, and you use your thighs to make him stay put.

"I only know part of it, alright?" It comes out high pitched as his voice cracks, you could feel the pain in his eyes. "The general too, and your team is going to need more than just us for the full code if you want to stop that damn operation." It's almost impossible to understand his german accent at how fast he speaks, his chest rising up and down.

His cock twitches, his tip was red and leaking, and you decide that's probably all that he's going to say, and plus you needed him for his part of the code. 

"That's it, please, maus, it's hurting." He cries. Maybe he deserved to get his award now.

"Such a good boy you are, huh, see? It wasn't hard." You stroke his dick, the praise enough to make him see stars. 

As you increase your movements, he becomes a whimpering mess once again, and deep in his brain he's thinking of how pretty you would look with his cock buried in your pussy, and how bad he will ruin you once he has his hands on you.

It's too much to take, he's trembling, making it hard for you to keep him still. And he can't hold back any longer, his thick cum spouting on your gloves and his shirt.

"Maus, please, stop." He pleads, his body giving in. You clean your gloves on his clothed thighs and get up, leaving him there, covered in white. You stand there, looking down at him and his softening length, and slowly walk towards the door. "Where are you going? Don't leave me like this."

You knock two times on the door and one of your men unlocks it. You open it, looking back at König, still there, still messy, still panting and angry, spitting out as you leave.

"You're gonna pay for this."

[eighth-heroine]

you need to rest

pairing: sam winchester x reader

CONTENT: fluff, established relationship, reader is shorter than sam (but who isn't)

word count: 724

You tiptoed down the stairs from the second floor of Bobby's house, careful not to step on the places you knew creaked. You had awoken feeling the full effects of your dehydration, and needed a glass of water asap or you were certain your mouth would shrivel up and die.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you noticed a faint glow coming from inside the library. The men often stayed up late researching, so you didn't even look to see who it was, beelining to the kitchen to get your water.

The doors separating the library from the kitchen were closed, so it wasn't until you were on your way back to bed when you glanced inside the library.

It wasn't Bobby up late, like you assumed. It was Sam, laying over a pile of books, his head resting on his forearm like a pillow. His laptop was open in front of him, casting his face in a ghostly light that emphasized the tired lines etched into his skin.

You walked to the desk softly and placed your water glass down, leaning over Sam to close his browser windows and turn off his laptop.

You gently shook Sam's shoulder. He jerked upright and grabbed your arm, always ready for a fight. "It's just me, Sam," you whispered. He instantly relaxed and dropped your arm.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Guess I fell asleep."

"It's four in the morning," you told him sympathetically. "You've been working yourself to the bone over this thing. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," Sam croaked. He looked haggard, dark bags under his eyes and lines carved into his brow from squinting.

A few moments from the past week clicked into place in your mind. Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded and eyes closed. Sam dozing off in the car on the way to town. Sam with his forehead pressed to a bookshelf, jumping when the book fell from his hand, and insisting that he hadn't been falling asleep. Going to bed before Sam and waking up with him not there.

"Jesus. How much sleep have you been getting?" you asked concernedly. "You look like shit."

"I don't know."

"Don't know or won't say because you know it's not enough?"

Sam heaved a sigh that turned into a yawn. "Maybe like, three hours a night? Two? I've gone longer with less."

"A year without a soul doesn't count," you said, swatting his arm. "Come on, we're going to bed."

"But-" he protested.

"Sam."

He closed his eyes defeatedly. "Okay. You win."

Sam rose from the chair slowly and grabbed you into his arms sleepily, resting his chin on your head.

You led him by his limp arm up the stairs to the room you two were staying in, although lately it had just been you. Sam didn't bother to put pajamas on, simply kicking off his shoes and falling face-first into the mattress. You giggled, setting your water down on the side table, and followed suit.

Sam peeked one eye open to look at you. You brushed his hair behind his ear. "You gotta take better care of yourself."

He smiled half-heartedly. "That's what I have you for," he teased. As you scoffed, he turned onto his side and pulled you against his chest. You snuggled against his warm body, face stuffed into his flannel, breathing in the scent of him.

You yawned, causing him to yawn as well, sending you both into a fit of giggles. You turned your face solemn again. "Promise me you'll come to bed when I do this week. At least."

Sam looked lovingly into your upturned face and kissed you on the forehead. "Promise," he whispered. His hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you close into his neck again.

You kissed the base of his throat. "I love you. I don't want you to run yourself into the ground."

He exhaled lightly. "I won't. I know you won't let me. And I know it's not your job to take care of me, but... I appreciate it."

Your arm curled around his side, rubbing his back. "I know," you said simply.

As the first pale fingers of dawn crept over the horizon, you and Sam had dozed off in each other's arms, breathing in tandem.

Finally resting.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[puckbunnyera]

New Friend | Luke Hughes

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

pairing: luke hughes x reader genre: fluff (?) word count: 1.3k warnings: none summary: a chance meeting with NHL superstar rookie, Luke Hughes, leads to a surprising new friendship

notes: first time writing on this account. will probably end up taking this down or heavily editing as my writing progresses because I'm not sure if I like this one. we'll see 🤷🏽‍♀️.

update: link to part 2 here

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

The smell of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke overwhelms my senses as I sit at a booth in the corner of an overcrowded bar that my two best friends have dragged me to in Newark. Nausea swirls in my stomach at the sight of all the intoxicated bodies dancing and stumbling around me. After accompanying them to an intense hockey game between the New Jersey Devils and Chicago Blackhawks, ending with a 4-2 win for the Devils, they had decided that the success of their favorite team called for a celebration.

Not much of a party person, I decide to hang back at a table and keep watch of their belongings while they leave to go dance the night away amongst the other drunk people who litter the bar. To ease the anxious feeling in my chest, I pull my phone from my crossbody bag and open up my Kindle app. I choose the book I have recently been invested in, and I quickly become immersed in it. I'm not sure how much time passes by but I'm just reaching a really intense part in the storyline when a male voice grabs my attention.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Lifting my gaze from my phone screen, I meet with the gaze of a very handsome stranger. Shyness begins to take over as I realize that he's talking to me. My words leave me as I continue to stare at the guy in front of me. My lack of response must come off as apprehension because he quickly begins to apologize.

"Sorry if I scared you." He starts. "The bar is pretty packed and all of the tables are full. My friends ditched me to join the crowd and I'm not really a fan of these types of outings."

"It's fine," I reply as words finally find their way into my brain and out of my mouth. "I don't mind." I gesture to the empty seat at the other side of the booth.

"Cool." He nods, sitting down. "I'm Luke, by the way."

"Y/n." I respond. "Nice to meet you."

"I like your jersey." He refers to the Devil's apparel that I'm still wearing from the game I'd attended earlier in the night.

"Uh, thanks." A blush rises to my cheeks at the unexpected compliment. "It was the first jersey I saw in my size at the fan shop so I bought it."

"I'm assuming you're not a Devil's fan, then."

"Not really." I shrug. "My friends are though. I don't know much about hockey, but they love it. They convinced me to go watch the game with them tonight hence why I bought the jersey. What about you?"

"Kinda have to be considering I play for the team." He responds nonchalantly. His words leave me a little stunned and a lot confused.

"I can't tell if you're lying or not."

"I'm serious." He chuckles. "In fact, that's my last name and number you're wearing right now. Look me up if you don't believe me. Luke Hughes, number 43, of the New Jersey Devils. I won't be offended."

I do just that after picking up my phone from the table from where I had previously abandoned it after he made his appearance. Looking through the Google results, I realize that everything he just said is true.

"Okay, so you are telling the truth. But why would you just openly admit that to me? Aren't you worried that I might run off and tell everyone in the bar that I'm talking to The Luke Hughes? Or post it on the internet or something?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Call me naive, but I don't think that's the type of person you are."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Instinct or whatever you call it." He shrugs, a goofy grin on his face.

"What's it like, being on the ice? It seemed intense, and I was only watching it. I can't even begin to imagine what it must feel like to play."

"It is intense, but I love it." He replies honestly. "I always have."

We continue to talk back and forth for what seems like forever. Taking turns to ask each other questions and sharing random stories that have us laughing, almost to the point of tears. At one point during the conversation, he moves to sit on my side of the booth so he can show me a video of his brother falling off of a board while wake-surfing at their lake house in Michigan. He's in the middle of telling the story of the time he almost had to go streaking across his college campus when he's interrupted by a noticeably drunk man, a few others following behind him as he approaches the table.

"Lukey!" He exclaims loudly, making me laugh as he wraps an arm around the shoulders of a flustered Luke. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"Who's your friend?" Another man questions as they file into the booth seat. The one embracing look shoves us over to sit on our side.

"I'm Y/n." I introduce myself.

"Nico." He greets me before pointing to the other men at the table. "That's Dawson, John, and-"

"And I'm Jack." The loud one from before interrupts. "I'm Lukey Pookies older brother." He lifts a hand and teasingly pinches Lukes cheek.

"My very drunk older brother." Luke huffs in annoyance and swats Jack's hand away.

"Nice to meet you." I giggle as the brothers begin to bicker.

As casual conversation begins amongst the group that has formed at the table, Luke scoots closer to where our shoulders and thighs lightly brush against each other with every slight movement and he leans in to whisper in my ear.

"Sorry about them." He smiles sheepishly when I turn towards him.

"Don't worry about it." I assure him. "They seem fun." He nods before turning to join the conversation.

It's nearing two in the morning when Nico, who seems to be the only sober one in the group aside from Luke, announces that it's time for them to head home. There are a few groans of disappointment, which Nico ignores as he begins to pull them from their seats. After they say their goodbyes and begin to walk away, Luke turns towards me.

"I know this is probably weird, and feel free to say no, but I was wondering if I could get your number." He questions, shyness washing over him. "This is the first time in what feels like a long time that I've been able to have a conversation with anyone, let alone a girl, whose intentions aren't to take advantage of my fame or status to influence their own. I would really like to get to know you more. As a friend, of course."

"Of course. I'm always down to make a new friend." I smile, a fluttering sensation forming in my chest as I take his phone and add my contact. A few seconds after handing it back, my own phone buzzes.

"I just texted you so now you have mine. I have to go but text me when you get home, so I know you made it safely."

He seems to hesitate for a few seconds, as if trying to make up his mind about something, before he leans in a brushes his lips softly against my cheek. When his face is visible again, he is sporting a bright red blush, mine surely looking the same if the warmth in my cheeks says anything. He says goodbye quickly before turning to run after his friends who are whooping and hollering, having seen the whole thing. I smile to myself as I gather mine and my friends belongings, a giddy feeling running through every fiber of my being. I make it only a few feet from the table when I almost run into my friends, both standing in front of me, with shocked expressions on their faces.

"Tell us everything!" They exclaim as they each grab one of my arms and begin to pull me out of the bar.

[midnight-mourning]

Vessel for Your Good Intent

Okay the art's going to be late(r) BUT, enjoy this little thingy I've whipped up for you all. A little peak into one of the au's i'm keeping locked up in the drafts, hope you enjoy! Last one of @divinit3a's January Cafe Prompts

Words Chosen: serpetine, gold, pacts & deals, shapeshifter, precious

Word Count: 1715

"Make a deal with me."

You glance up from your book for a moment, over to the empty mirror. Feeling shy today, apparently. 

You chuckle, looking back down to continue reading. "I've already made a deal with you. Several, if I recall."

"Make another." He drawls, somewhere beside you now. If you had to guess, in the reflection of the clock sitting beside you.

"Why? I have no need for it at the moment." You peek up to see if you can catch him, but the clock holds nothing. "I take it you are then, was that last offering not enough for you? Feeling a bit peckish, love?" 

The tinge of a smirk grows on your face in that moment as the silence lengthens. He never did like it when you used his nicknames back at him. You go to stir your tea, only for a hand to grasp your wrist as you jump. Right. Silver. Reflective as anything else. 

Your surprise slips into annoyance, if only to help hide the racing of your heart a bit better. 

His words are a hiss in your ear now, sharp, a warning. "I don't rely on you, pet. This is just for fun fun fun, you know that."

"Just making sure." He releases you, slipping back into the shadows before you can catch a true glimpse, as usual. 

You reach for your tea again and take a sip, assuming the conversation is done with. 

"I meant it as an opportunity for you." In front of you, from the tea cup's reflection, startlingly you into almost spilling and making a fool of yourself. 

You frown now, staring directly at the small silhouette on the side of your cup. "Again, why? Business is good, my health is fine, what could you have that I'd want?" You wait a moment, then add. "Right at this moment." Given how your previous wording was received, you can tell he's being more particular today, and you have to be a bit more cautious. 

Not that you already weren't with his previous proposition. 

"Because I know you want more, and I'm in the mood to offer it." The small, shadowed figure shrugs. The ray-like projections from his head flit back and forth.

You tsk, setting the cup back now. "Well, I don't. You know that. I would have made a better deal if that was the case."

"That's the best part, though." Back to the mirror, the pale visage of his face sits in the corner, grin unwavering as ever. "You don't even have to give much at all. Practically a steal steal steal, just for you!"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch~"

You snort. "There's always a catch. Always."

The smile turns to a frown, then, a small grin. "Let me weave a story for you."

Your eyes widen. "No, you know I don't like it when—" Too late, his hands are over your eyes and your world is smothered in darkness. 

"Don't worry, I think you'll like this one."

"You say that every time..." You mutter. 

Just a quiet chuckle in response as the darkness starts to shift, lighten, become a scene. 

You've yet to get used to seeing yourself in an outside view like this. You're in your shop, hard at work organizing herbs and other ingredients. It's quiet, peaceful, but tiresome work. A shift. 

Now, you're in a larger space, grander, standing behind the counter as customers pour in and out of the busy location. You give directives to your full team of employees, who answer each order with obedient nods and words of acknowledgement. You're respected, admired for your work. People take pride in being able to visit your shop and buy your products. 

Another shift, a lavish party in some grand parlor, no, now a ballroom. You're the star of the evening, no one else can compare. Everyone there holds you in high regard, they're entranced. The gold and silver throughout the room cannot compare to your own radiance. 

Shift again, a surrounding of gold. Coins and treasures, you realize after a moment. All of yours, more than you can dream, more than you'll ever need. You have nothing to want for. 

Another. You're in your kitchen. It takes a moment to realize you're no longer watching, but living this one. There's the sound of feet pitter-pattering hurriedly down the stairs, a few children suddenly appearing and rushing past you with an exchange of giggles. Ready for breakfast and their days to start. 

As you face the stove again, a pair of arms wrap around your waist, a face burying into the side of your neck to press a kiss there. Some murmured apology you can't quite catch as your hand reaches up to grip one of the arms. The person, man, chuckles, releasing you to spin the two of you into a dance, humming a tune that's familiar and not at the same time. 

The children from before laugh from the other side of the room, sounding further off than that. You have everything you could ever want. Fame, fortune, notoriety, a family, someone who loves you—

"That's enough." You whisper, finally looking up into the golden eyes of the man. Serpentine. Out of place on his otherwise human appearance. "I thought I told you to stay out of my head."

The eyes widen, the smile on his face slipping. "I was just—it wasn't meant like that."

"It certainly seemed like it." You step back, crossing your arms over your chest as a poor attempt to shelter yourself. 

He frowns now, seeming to be thinking as he too, steps back. Leaning against the opposite counter. 

With his focus elsewhere, it all seems to freeze. Even the air itself seems to pause. 

He glances back to you after a moment. "Pacts, deals, bargains, they're... the typical way to be able to express ou-my, desires. They're the only way, for that matter." That last bit is muttered, softer than should be possible for a demon. And yet.

"You could try just saying them outright." You offer with a quiet huff. "Though what more you could possibly want beyond my being, I'm more than just curious about."

He stands upright then, eyes wide. He nods, finger wagging as he takes a step towards you. "There, you've said it there. That's what I want. You. All of you. Whatever you'll let me have. I'll take it." 

"I already told you I have no need for—" You halt as your heart jumps to your throat, words dying as suddenly he takes your hand and brings it to his face, cradling it against his cheek. 

"Not like that. Not how you're thinking. More than that, you mean more than that. Precious. Irreplaceable. Let me prove it. Please." He falls to his knees, gripping your hand for dear life. The scene around you ripples. "Please just, make a deal with me. Please."

You can only stare down at him with a sense of horror and utter disbelief. "I think that's enough pretending, Shapeshifter. You've made your point. You don't need to wound my pride any further."

You knew that if enough time passed between deals a demon would become desperate, but this was absurd, even for the game he was playing. To be down on his knees, practically begging you, the little human bound to him and not vice versa, it was one hell of a way to toy with you. 

"This isn't a matter of pride." The grip on your hand tightens, the scene wobbles dangerously. His next words are seething. "Is it so hard to believe I'm speaking with a sense of genuinity?" 

You look around for anything to pull you out of this fantasy entirely, relying on your words for the moment to keep the tension from falling. "Of course it is! You didn't just ask me that, did you? After all you've done? After what you've—" You find what you've been searching for, the weight of the small bottle heavy in your pocket. You grip it with your free hand, pushing the cork out with your thumb. 

"I, you're not, but I don't, this isn't..." He can't seem to find the words, but it's the, utter devastation in his tone that makes you hesitate then. 

You keep the bottle in your hand, looking down at him with a hardened gaze. "Can you say, with absolute certainty. That anything you've said to me is completely and entirely genuine? That you’ve meant it wholeheartedly, with no ill-intent?"

A moment. You give him just a moment. 

For you think if you gave him anything more you'd hear a response you can't handle. 

You rip the bottle from your pocket and splash the water over him, the effect is near instant. He hisses as steam rises from his form, now cowering against the pain as the scene starts to collapse in on itself. You need to be quick. 

The half-empty bottle smashes to the ground, and you kneel in front of him, picking up one of the broken pieces.

He catches on instantaneously. "Wait, don't—" 

You use it to prick your finger, hovering it above his ever-changing form. Switching between the illusion and reality. 

It takes a moment, but finally, a few drops fall down onto him, and he stabilizes with a gasp. 

The fantasy collapses completely and you suddenly find yourself back in your chair, having to take deep breaths to center yourself again. Once you do so, your eyes dart around the room, looking into each reflective surface. 

Not the mirror, not the clock, not the spoon, not the cup. A flash of fear wells up in you, you don't dwell on it. Come on, where—

"That stung." You turn. 

The window. 

You don't hide your relief, shoulders sagging. "That was the point."

You watch the faint shadowed form, faint, but only because of the light streaming in. Not wavering, not weak. 

"Thank you." He states, disappearing without another word. 

You wait a moment, and realize that he's actually gone this time. 

For now. 

You sit back in the chair, running a hand through your hair with a sigh. Then you pause, pulling your hand back to examine it. 

No mark. Not even the hint of a scar. 

You don't know what to make of that. 

And that's all you get for now, back into the drafts it goes, had a lot of fun writing for these prompts, can't wait to see what comes next :)

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist

[afewproblems]

Christmas Party Wish Part One

After The Christmas party, Steve manages to avoid everyone for all of two days before Robin shows up at his front door, ready to knock it down.

He crosses from the kitchen and into the foyer just as Robin starts yelling.

"Steven Marie Harrington, you open up this door or so help me--"

Steve rolls his eyes, pulling the door inward quickly enough that Robin loses her balance and nearly topples onto the inside floor mat. If not for Steve's quick reflexes she would be face down in a heap, he tells her as much with a sly grin as he helps her to stand.

"And whose fault would that be? Nice way to treat the person who is here to help you out Dingus," Robin huffs, brushing off imaginary dust from her shoulders while Steve moves aside to let her in.

"Merry Christmas to you too Rob," Steve says tugging her towards himself. He sighs as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, content until she blows a long wet raspberry into his check. Steve drops her with a yelp and wipes away the wet mark she left behind with grinning lips.

"That was for ignoring my call," she says with narrowed eyes, "you were supposed to come for supper on Christmas day remember?"

She shrugs off her blue parka before lifting each foot to pull off her snowy boots, Steve takes the coat and tosses it over the back of the closest chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I know," he manages after a beat, sighing as Robin scoffs. She turns on her heel and wanders into the kitchen, leaving Steve to trail after her.

"I can only assume it's because you had other plans, you can't have possibly ignored my call for some other reason, hmm?"

Steve lifts his head to stare at the ceiling and count to five.

The thing that Steve both loves and hates about his best friend is her ability to read him through and through and call him on his shit. He'd hoped to have at least a little more time to wallow in self pity though.

"You've been wallowing for two days Steve, and I know it sucks," she chews her lip for a moment before sighing, "I'm sorry about the wish game, I feel like it's my fault".

Steve shakes his head and moves to the fridge. He opens it and reaches inside for two cans of cola before turning and using his foot to nudge the door closed again. He stacks the cans, holding them both with one hand and he moves to the pantry, grabbing an old open tube of Pringles, before making his way back to the kitchen island.

"Nah," he says eventually, "it wasn't your fault, if anything it proved why I was right not to say anything".

Steve places Robin's cola and the chips on the counter beside him and cracks the tab on his can with one hand as he leans heavily against the edge. He takes a long swig from the can, pounding his chest as he finishes to release a long burp.

Robin grimaces and swats at Steve's bicep as she grabs her own can and hops up onto the counter next to Steve.

"Dis-GUST-ing," she enunciates, wrinkling her nose, "and it doesn't prove anything Steve, of course Eddie would wish for his band to succeed, he doesn't even know you're on the table".

"And besides," Robin continues, gesturing to Steve with the can, "Nancy and Jonathan don't know that I'm a friend of Dorothy and we've known each other for over a year now. You've known them for three years and haven't said anything either, Dingus, so why would Eddie feel comfortable sharing something like that in front of everyone?"

And, huh, well what Robin says does make a lot more sense than the rambling depressing thoughts that he's been playing on repeat since their movie night.

He and Eddie have gotten a lot closer since they escaped from the Upside Down for the last time. Since Steve managed to carry him out of hell and got them to the hospital in time.

And Steve has been trying so hard for months not to expose himself, to show the most vulnerable parts of his heart to someone that could stomp on it as easily as Nancy did.

But Robin has a point.

On the one hand Steve has been protecting himself, and on the other he's also made sure that there would never be a possibility of--

Steve shakes his head, "first of all, I only just figured all of this, Bi-Sectional stuff, out Robin--"

"Bisexual," she sighs as Steve keeps talking.

"Whatever, and second, we have no idea if Eddie swings that way either…I just don't want to take the risk and end up fucking it all up".

Robin stares at him, an unhappy frown marring her normally sweet features. It feels too much like she's evaluating the inside of his mind --though she did always have the uncanny talent of knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"And what would you say if I told you I had a plan?" Robin says slowly, her gaze unwavering still.

Steve meets her eyes for a moment, taking in the smirk and the raised eyebrow. There's a challenge in her expression and Steve knows there's nothing for it but to listen to what she has to say.

"I'm going to regret letting you in today aren't I?" Steve says as he lifts his can towards her own.

Robin answers with a wide grin and knocks her can into his with a metallic click.

"Don't you always? Anyways," she clears her throat and looks at him with a mischievous smirk, lifting her hands into the air and wiggling her fingers, "I'm thinking, are you ready? New Year's Eve!"

"No--"

"New Year's Eve Steve, come on!" She insists as Steve grazes on a stack of chips from the Pringles tube.

"All we need to do is invite everyone over, Eddie included, to Casa Harrington for a little New Years Party," Robin continues, ignoring the eye roll Steve sends her way, "with enough liquid courage you'd have another opportunity to actually talk to Eddie, confess your feelings, and Boom! Maybe even get a midnight kiss out of the whole thing!"

Steve stares at her wide eyes and wider grin, forcing himself to keep his expression blank.

"So, just to be clear," Steve says eventually, around a mouthful of chips. Robin exaggeratedly gags and snatches her own stack from the tube.

"Your plan is for me to host another party and talk to him".

"Well, yeah--"

"...Robin, that's not a plan, that's a repeat of what already happened," Steve groans as he puts down the chips and runs his hands over his face until they've tangled into his hair.

"No, no, nuh uh, because you didn't say jack shit to him all night," she huffs, gently pulling his hands down, "the crucial difference my sweet bozo, is that you are actually going to tell him how you feel this time".

"How am I supposed to do that with my ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend, and everyone else here smart ass," he counters, letting her continue to hold his hands in her own smaller ones.

She rolls her eyes but squeezes his fingers as she continues, "it will be easy to get him alone, come on, you could tell him you want to give him his Christmas present in your room, you could ask him to go for a smoke outside, you could show him the basement stereo and your ridiculous music collection, must I go on while you don't write this down?"

With every suggestion Steve feels a surge of warm affection for his friend and allows for a fond grin to replace the skeptical frown on his face.

"Do I have to do all of those or should I pick one?" Steve asks, lifting his now free hands to protect his face as Robin whips her own at his chest and head.

"How you were ever considered a ladies man, I will never know," Robin says, though the words are rather undercut by a laugh that turns into a giggle as she finds a particularly ticklish rib and begins her assault.

"You are a fucking menace birdie," Steve manages to say as he catches the offending hands and steps away from the counter and his friends attack.

"You love it," she scoffs, stealing another chip and crunching it loudly as though to make her point.

And he does, Steve thinks to himself.

They have five days to figure out the final details, and Steve can't help but move back to the counter to swing an arm around her shoulders.

Because when in doubt, he can always count on Robin.

"Okay, New Years it is".

[the-kr8tor]

Plain Sailing

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.1k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, CW self inflicted wound (nothing too bad), CW food mentions, CW suggestive.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 9 >>> CHAPTER 10

You wake up with a groan, neck straining under your head, muscles cramping up. Moving to your side, your hand flies up to the pain, fingers desperately trying to ease the tight muscle.

Yelling in frustration, the heat makes the crick in your neck ten times worse. Eyes closed, you hear footsteps on the sand.

“You alright?” Hobie's voice is soft, relaxed but still concerned when he meets with your scrunched up face.

“Neck.” You could only say one word because of the aching pain.

“You must've slept wrong.” His hand reaches down, calloused fingers moving your hand away from your neck. “You're makin' it worse, move it.”

“You're the worst.” You grimace. Looking at him through narrowed eyes, he sits crossed legged in front of you, knee brushing against your stomach. He tilts his head, flicking his eyes down to your sleep related injury.

You begrudgingly move your hand away, nodding to give him permission to massage your neck. “Let's see you do better.”

Hobie chuckles, morning voice deep and warm. Warmer than the sun above, it sends goosebumps to rise on your skin. You hope he doesn't feel it when he begins to knead at your skin, with a practiced hand, he smooths out the crick in your neck.

You let out a satisfied moan and you immediately clamp up, face searing, cursing yourself. Daring him to say something about it, sending the message through your glare, you watch him comically close his lips, smile still visible, clearly stifling a laugh.

“Don't—” you almost moaned again when he rubs a circular pattern down. Deciding to just cover your mouth with your hand, you find the piece of driftwood near him more interesting than his face.

“Didn't say anythin’” You don't see him shrug but you know he's clearly enjoying himself. Feeling his eyes on you, he quiets down a chuckle at your flustered face. “You're a bit sour this morning.”

“My neck hurts,” you groan, “I have insect bites all over me, there's sand in my underwear and a pirate is feeling me up. So yeah I'm a bit sour.”

He laughs, a sound more akin to a giggle. Taking his hands away, he lifts them up on the side of his head, the pain flares back up almost immediately. “Fine, this pirate will stop massaging you.”

You can't help but whine. Glaring at him, mouth in a full blown frown, you reach for his wrists, tugging it down wordlessly.

Hobie shakes his head but he obliges, continuing to rub the ache away.

After a minute of silence and his hands carefully relieving you with only the sound of waves lapping at the shore and the wind rustling the trees above, Hobie speaks.

“It's been three days and we haven't killed each other.” He says, smugly.

“Not yet.” Voice muffled, you dare look at him.

His swirling greys are glued to your neck, a ghost of a smile left on his lips, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he simply swallows. Sweat dripping from his face down to his bare chest, you look away, feeling like a nun who has sinned. You've made a mistake, now your skin seems like molten lava and you know he can feel it through his touch.

“Sure, don't worry, I'd let you win anyway.” His words make your heart race. He keeps finding ways in making you feel like that recently.

Petting your head for good measure, Hobie takes his hands away, and you already sense the cold.

Tapping your leg, he stands up, knees creaking, groaning at the dull ache, “Eat then we can start with the raft.”

Sitting up, you test your neck, moving it side to side. It's like nothing happened, no pain left in the muscle.

“Where'd you even learn how to do that?”

He crouches down next to the cooling embers of the fire. Ashes flicker away as he takes what you assume as breakfast that's wrapped in a large leaf.

“Self taught.” Hobie sits in front of you, handing you your breakfast.

“Bullshit” you chuckle, stomach growling for the fish inside the tightly wrapped leaf.

“‘s true, I've got the golden hands.” Wiggling his fingers, he smirks. “If I didn't become a pirate I'd be a masseuse.”

You laugh, almost doubling over. “The image that popped in my head when you said that!”

“Were you picturin’ me in one of those big robes, tendin’ to aristocrats?” He chuckles with you.

“Yes!” There's tears in your eyes, you blame not having proper entertainment the past few days as the cause of your laughing fit.

“While you're imaginin’ me like that, now picture me without the robe—”

“You ruined it.” You glare at him but the smile still stays on your lips.

He looks at you like you're made of gold in his eyes.

Cutting the sudden tension, he begins to unwrap the meal for you. “Eat before it gets cold.”

“I'm sick of fish.”

“Good thing this isn't fish.”

You blink in surprise at the warm clams in front of you. Steam escapes when Hobie opens the makeshift packaging, the fishy smell is expected but tolerable. The sight alone makes your stomach gurgle but you still worry at how your body would react after you eat it. Clams for breakfast are unheard of but being stranded on a deserted island is weirder.

“Where did you even get these?” Laughing in disbelief, he shrugs smugly.

“A fisherman came by in his dinghy and sold ‘em to me.”

You look at him flatly, annoyed at how sarcastic he is this early in the morning. “You should've woken me up, I would've caught a ride with him out of here.”

“And lose all this bonding time we have now?” Hobie laughs, cracking one clam open. Giving it to you.

Looking at it warily, you poke the insides of the clam. It's warm to the touch, softer than you thought it would be. Hobie notices your apprehension so he takes one from the pile, opening it and immediately downing the shellfish in one gulp.

“See, it's fine. Could use some seasoning though. Or butter, fuck I miss butter.” Hobie gives you a smile, he grimaces abruptly, clutching his stomach in pain.

Your eyes widen, scrambling towards him, grabbing his face in worry. “Shit!” You're not fully equipped for food poisoning, having no idea how to treat it when your medicine cabinet consists of a piece of cloth, herbs for wounds and a stray jar of painkillers that washed up on shore on day two.

Hands cupping his face, eyes frantically roaming around the pained look he has, you watch as his scowl turns into a joking smile. You put two and two together and you push him away, slapping his arm.

“You asshole!”

He laughs, bemused, shielding himself from your barrage of slaps.

“I wish I had a mirror so you could see your face!” Hobie says in between laughs. Your palm accidentally hits his healing injury, he catches your hand effortlessly, hissing in pain. “Give me a minute.” He closes his eyes tightly and you look at him with concern again.

You know this one is real, with how his body trembles a little, his pinky twitches atop your own. Guilt written all over your face, he exhales, rolling his shoulder, squeezing your hand in reassurance.

“Shit—I'm sorry, Hobie. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“‘m good, love, don't worry.” He says the word so naturally and fluidly that he doesn't realize it at first, but he wouldn't take it back.

Your skin runs warm again, nerves alight with the simple utterance of the word. You can control your face, hide it if you can but you can't control the temperature in your body, but you wish you could.

“Are you sure? Does it still hurt?” You brush your palm over the healing skin, your warmth radiating through him.

“Nah, not anymore.” Hobie holds your hand that's hovering above his injured skin. Pushing it down, he lets your body heat calm the pain down. You see him flick his eyes down to your lips and you practically turn into stone.

You hold your breath. Sweat dripping on your forehead, you freeze in his touch. I need to get a grip, you thought, swallowing the lump in your throat, you move your hand away.

Standing up abruptly, you avoid his eyes, afraid you'll fall into them. “I–I'll get you some water. Might help, with the…thing.”

Hobie looks up at you questioningly. “You know the way?”

You're already walking away awkwardly. “Yep!” waving him off, you hear him chuckle softly to himself.

Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip. The words echo in your mind with every step you take. Kneeling next to the water, you splash your face, feeling the coolness run down your neck.

“Get a fucking grip. Fuck.” You whisper to yourself. Dipping the cloth in, you continue to curse yourself. “Idiot.”

Coming back to camp, hands and sleeves wet from the dripping cloth, you watch as Hobie opens each clam, dividing it equally. You notice he saves the bigger ones for you.

Your eyes roam around his bare back, scars littered around his skin like painful stars. Some look new and with raised skin, tiny mounds of flesh shaped like hills in the countryside. A few look like it's been on his skin since he could remember, dark gashes and punctures like the finest embroidery. You try not to think about his previous wounds whenever your fingers brush over the scars every time you clean the new ones.

The grip on the cloth tightens, knowing that he had to endure every single one of them for it to become scars.

Hobie lived through it all and he had the marks to prove it. You admire that part of him, his tenacity and the strength he has, yet he doesn't seem to fall under the weight of it all. He thrives on it, shines with it, where if it was you, you'd burn with the flames, consumed and withered under the pressure. Or you'd run, just like how you've always done.

You're glad that you're stuck with him instead of being alone, or worse, being with someone else but him.

Taking a step forward, you flop the drenched cloth on his shoulder.

Hobie doesn't flinch, craning his neck up to see your small smile, he hands you a clam. “You call me perverted when you're the one ogling me from behind. Clam?”

“I wasn't,” sitting next to him, he follows your precise movements, scooching over, he makes space for you. “Just put a shirt on. Did a seagull eat it or something?” Knee to knee, leg brushing along his, you fight the urge to get closer.

“It's fuckin' hot.”

“Then swim, don't make it my problem when your entire chest is out.” You scoff, fixing the cool fabric on his shoulder. “Seriously, if I walked around without my—” you regretted it the moment the words left your lips. “Wait—”

Hobie has the most punchable smile on his face. Eyes shining, his laugh gets louder with the growing scowl you have on you.

“Shut up!” you pinch his elbow.

“I didn't say nothin'!” The grin stays as you threaten to punch his bicep. “Have a clam, maybe that will clam you down.” He grins wider at his own joke.

“Funny,” you snatch the clam from his hand while he continues to beam at you.

“Eat it slowly, you might not like it.”

“Like it or hate it, I don't have a choice.” You pick up the insides with your fingers.

“You always have a choice. Or you can always eat chocolate.”

“That's strictly for dessert, Hobie.” You sniff it before eating the entire thing. It's like fish if it was slimy, chewier and a bit grainy. Hobie's right, it needs butter.

“Who fuckin' cares? It's food.”

“Me, I care!”

“Fine,” he makes a mental note to only eat a piece whenever you do. “I'll eat it whenever.”

“Mm-hmm, don't care just don't eat it all—” you spot something shiny inside the shell. “What's this?”

Hobie stops his own chewing. “What?” He says with his mouth full, frantically chewing and swallowing. “You feel alright? Not feelin’ itchy or anythin'?”

Grabbing your elbow, he follows your line of sight, cheek atop your shoulder.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Looks like you've found your first treasure.” He doesn't seem so surprised.

You give him a knowing look but you don't speak about it. Plucking it from its shell, the black pearl is tiny in your palm. It shines as you roll it in between your fingers.

“Can I keep it?”

“You found it, it's yours.”

Nodding, there's heat under your cheeks. It might not be worth a lot, but it's yours and a gift from Hobie, it's priceless, worth millions in your eyes.

“Thank you.” you stare at him warmly.

“Why thank me? You found it.” He shrugs, watching the tides move.

You smile, tucking the precious thing inside your pocket for safekeeping. Biting your lip, you stifle a giggle.

“Eat more,” he cracks open another one for you. “You'll need the energy.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n”

Hobie chuckles, continuing to eat his fill. The sail flutters behind you when a breeze passes by.

Shoulders relaxed, he closes his eyes, the sun kissing his skin, alight with content, a picture of calmness. You think this fits him more than the Hobie you saw a few days ago, the one that was fueled by sadness and revenge. You like the Hobie that's sitting next to you, all soft smiles and tender touches.

And that scares you. It's best you leave the island before you fall further down the hole you've dug for yourself.

If only you knew that there's grief and anger swirling inside him, a typhoon just waiting to be let out again.

After breakfast (a weird combination of clams and chocolate), you two still sit side by side, watching the horizon, letting the sun bathe you in its light and the wind whisper in your ears.

“Are you sure it's alright to camp near the edge of the forest and near the shore?” you ask, body almost leaning towards him, a few inches more and you'll be using him as an armrest.

“The others can see us better here. If we camp inside then they won't see us and they might accidentally pass us.” he cracks one eye open, closing the distance for you.

Beating you from using him as your personal pillow; Hobie rests his head atop your bicep unabashedly, not fully laying on your shoulder but still far enough that you can shove him off any second.

But you don't, against your own better judgment and the screaming in your head to push him off, you let him stay. *You might regret it later, the voice inside your head says. And you might but that's for future you to handle.

“Will your raft work?”

“I've made a couple of ‘em before. We'll be fine.” His voice is quiet, “And if it doesn't then Gwen and the others will find us.”

You inhale sharply. “I don't want to stay here forever, Hobie.”

He lifts his head to face you, “We won't, we'll get out of here. I promise.”

“What if those things come back for us when we manage to make the raft work?”

“We fight ‘em.”

“Hobie—”

“We'll paddle like hell.” He swipes at a drop of sweat on your temple. “Whatever happens, I'll get you back to land, back to civilization.” *back to your family, he wanted to add but it's a sore subject and he didn't want to ruin the quiet and make you sadder than you already are. “You ready to get started? The faster we finish it, the faster we get out of here.”

“I’m ready, just tell me where to start.”

Hobie smiles, “good, that's why you're a part of my crew, eh?” standing up, he dusts himself off before lending you a hand.

For now, you'd say but you don't. You don't dare say it outloud.

—

“I call bullshit.” Your hands expertly tie a knot, rough makeshift ropes itches on your palms. The sand is coarse under you, warm and comforting on your thighs.

Looking up at Hobie from your crouched position, the tree tops provide shade for the both of you, shadows dance on his skin, leaves fall like snowflakes above. His previously wounded body finally heals; newly formed scars appear over it, a testament to his survival. He sits on a boulder, making rope from the vines he found.

The sun warms your bare arms, adapting to the environment. You cut off the sleeves days ago with your dagger, no longer embarrassed at the amount of skin you're showing in front of Hobie. He clearly doesn't mind, never even commenting on the fact.

Your wounds have healed well too, there's only a dull ache whenever you strain yourself too much, which is rare because Hobie never lets you lift the heavy stuff, even if it's to his disadvantage.

“It's true, Finn can dance. You'd think he'd be clumsy because of his huge frame but he isn't.” He says with a soft smile thrown your way.

The raft sits unfinished between you, barely halfway done even after an entire week of building it together.

“Sure,” you say, still in disbelief. “What kind of dances did he know?”

“He knows every single one of ‘em. Even tap dancing.”

You laugh, imagining Finn wearing the shoes with fancy clothes on. You miss him, you miss Ned and everyone who was lost, but Hobie helps, even though he speaks about them like they aren't gone. Like they still breathe and eat. Like they still stand beside him.

With a shuddered breath, you start the conversation again, maybe talking about them helps him too.

“Two-fingers?”

“What about him?”

“Why was he called two-fingers?”

“That,” he laughs, “You know the part of the cannon where the wick is?”

“Mm-hmm”

“He got his two fingers stuck in it the first time he tried loading it. It was in there for eight hours until Ned got the idea to pour lard all over him.”

You guffaw, the mere sound alone bringing a smile to his lips. “Eight?!”

“Not just his fingers, his entire body was covered in the stuff.” You laugh louder and Hobie continues his story to hear it more. “Ned tripped while holding the bloody thing and the entire jug flew right on Gareth's head!”

“Who the hell is Gareth?” You say, breathless from all the laughs.

Hobie's smile falters for a second before the smile returns. “Two-fingers, that's his real name.”

You nod, chest hurting. “Foul?”

“Fell in a barrel of food waste, he couldn't get the stink out for a few days.” His voice gets smaller and softer. “Harold, that's his name.”

“I won't forget their names.”

“Yeah, I think they'd like that.”

After a moment of reminiscing, eyes glimmering under the sun and grief snaking under your skin, you talk with him again. You've made a promise to him, to silence the screams and you intend to keep this one. He'd do the same for you. They would do the same for both of you.

“What was up with Danny?”

He pauses, hands laying still on his lap. “Y’know what? I have no bloody clue, love.”

There it is again, the nickname that has your heart clawing out of your chest. And his heart reaching for you.

“Come to think of it, I don't remember him askin' to be part of the crew,” he blinks. “I think he just showed up one day, huh.”

Your laugh echoes around the entire island, he drowns in it happily.

—

It's day seventeen on the island and you've been avoiding this day. Dreading it even, you've delayed it enough, always giving Hobie excuses of ‘my wounds hurt’ or ‘I'm too hungry’ but what always works on him is the tried and tested ‘I’m too tired’ coupled it up with a pout and puppy dog eyes, you've got him folding immediately. But he's had enough, the raft is almost done (he says but you think otherwise) so you have to learn to do it or what happened when you first arrived would repeat. And Hobie couldn't handle that again.

He reaches up, arms stretched to catch you in the water. You're both still in your clothes, shoes off, weapons stripped and left on the ground, still within reach just in case. For your own comfort and to avoid the awkwardness of being near each other almost naked, he doesn't protest the idea of swimming in full clothing.

The water is clear, so clear that you can see the bottom of the pool; giving you false pretenses that it's shallow.

“Jump!” He yells, fingers beckoning you over.

“No! I'm not gonna jump! Are you crazy?”

Hobie groans, standing up to his full height, the water only reaches up to his waist that you quickly avoid staring at too long.

“Yes. And it's not that deep, you can handle it and I've read the book! You need to learn how to swim or…” he doesn't even want to say the word. “Just c’mon.”

“I'm sorry that I'm being such a prick right now but excuse me for being a bit apprehensive because if you remember a few days ago I *drowned!”

“I know, I was there.” You think you're in for a chastising. “If we sailed into a storm and it flings you off the raft I may not be able to catch you again.” His tone is serious but his eyes are soft on you. “Don't make me experience that again, Y/N.”

You bite your lip, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You almost relent, but one look at the deeper end where the water is darker, your nerves start back up again.

“Let's do this tomorrow! I’m…” He sighs, you try to make an excuse. “Tired, so tired from making the raft—”

“You did the bare minimum, love. Now get in before I drag you down.”

“The bare minimum?! Excuse me—”

“Get in the bloody water or I'll hide the chocolate.”

“...Fine.” Toes dipping in the water, you let your feet sink inside the pool. You brave the waters despite your fear.

The rushing of the waterfalls ring in your ears as you go further in. Bare feet hitting jagged rocks, Hobie hovers his hands around you, ready to catch if you fall. The surface shimmers under the sun, light bounces all over Hobie, it paints a pretty picture for your eyes only.

Now waist deep, you yelp at the cold water, blouse sticking to your abdomen, intensifying your senses.

“Fuck! It's cold!” You flop your hands just above the water and Hobie laughs.

“You gotta dip your head in!”

You suck in your teeth, inhaling, pinching your nose before diving your head in. The rushing of water is muffled, almost calming whilst you're underwater. You let the cold wash over you, eyes closed, you try not to remember the water that was in your lungs.

Hobie lifts you up by the waist, you're met with his grin.

“See? It's fine, I have you, yeah?” His hands linger on your waist. Like rust on metal, he clings to you.

Wiping your face, you give him a wobbly smile, slightly shivering. “It’s freezing!”

“You'll adjust. You needed the bath anyway.”

“I bathe everyday!”

Hobie scoffs, “When? I've never seen you bathe since we got here!”

You slap his arm, avoiding the patch of healed skin. “Of course you haven't! I'm not gonna announce it to you, you pervert!”

“Not what I meant, Scuttlebutt.” He chuckles, he seems much better while in the water. You've noticed he doesn't stare off in the distance or suddenly go quiet that much anymore.

“I bathe when you sleep,” you poke his chest. “So you don't get any ideas.”

“What ideas? You're the only one who has one. Trust me, I don't need to see that.” He blinks, “Wait this is the first time you've swam here, where on the island do you take a bath?”

“Near the shoreline, can't swim, remember? And the water here is too cold anyway.”

“When it's your watch? So you leave me alone sleeping in camp?” He scoffs like you just kicked his puppy.

“No! I wouldn't do that! That's why I bathe when you sleep because—”

“You take a bath in front of me?!” His eyes widened, mouth agape. He hopes that the water doesn't evaporate with how hot his skin has gotten. The image in his head is impossible to scrub off.

“Yeah, so I could still watch over. I do it really quick and quietly so I don't wake you up—are you alright?” you watch as he drifts away, his eyes glossy, letting the currents take him away.

You can't even follow him because he's now floating mindlessly on the deeper end.

Tamping down a mocking laugh and a teasing jab, you let him compose himself.

Hobie dunks his head in the water, after a while, he resurfaces, blinking away the water.

“You good, captain?” You did that on purpose just to see him falter again.

His jaw tightens for a brief moment. “And you didn't think to invite me?” His flirting was made more awkward by him almost slipping on the rocks below. He mentally slaps himself for the choice of comment he let out.

“Welcome back, Hobie.” you chuckle, “Can we get this over with? I don't want to get hypothermia.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“It's not that cold, don't be a baby.” Hobie places his hands above the small of your back, the pads of his fingers meeting your skin whilst your shirt lifts and floats in the water. He remains respectful, hand barely holding you. “‘m gonna lift you, don't panic.”

“Now that you've said that I'm gonna panic.” You instinctively hold him by his shoulders.

“Remember that I've got you.” Hobie smiles softly, “If you don't master floating today then you can't have chocolate tonight.”

“Not fair—!”

He lifts your legs up suddenly, you yelp, squeezing his shoulder. His hand is on the back of your head, the other is placed just behind your knees. You're incredibly glad that you have all your clothes on or you wouldn't have survived.

“Relax your head,” he almost whispers, “shoulders too. Stop flailing.”

You crane your neck up, glaring at him, straining your muscle, the opposite of what he asked. “I'm not flailing!”

Hobie figures he needs to change his strategy. “Y’know I was the one who taught Miles how to swim.”

“Really?” That got you curious, your frown has changed into a small smile.

“Yeah, lay your head back down.” You do as you're told, Hobie hides the triumphant smile under a timed cough. “I didn't know he couldn't swim back then, we were just about makin’ a name for ourselves, startin’ out on the revenge back when it didn't have the red sails and Terrence.” He feels you relax on his hold.

He continues. “He was dared by Gwen to do somethin’ stupid that I don't even remember now, but I do remeber her tellin' him to jump overboard and the little fucker actually did it.”

You chuckle, clicking your tongue. “Shit.”

“Shit is right, love.” Hobie felt your muscles fall limp when he uttered the nickname. “When he didn't resurface a minute later, Finn jumped after him. They both got a scolding of a lifetime from Finn.”

“I can imagine, that must've been scary.”

“For Miles or for Gwen?”

“Both, Miles almost drowned while Gwen must've felt horrible after it.”

“A stupid way to show off to the one you fancy.” He huffs like the story just happened yesterday.

You perk up, “You know about his little crush on Gwen?”

He gives you a look, “‘course I do, they're not very subtle about it.”

“Wait, Gwen too?!” Hobie stops you from sitting up with a stern look. He nods, chuckling at your bewildered face.

You float aimlessly with Hobie swimming by your side.

“When you've been in close quarters with them for months at a time you get to notice things.”

“Oohh tell me more!”

“I don't gossip, Y/N”

“Sourpuss.”

You don't notice that he let you go.

“I've got one though.” Hobie follows closely, hands floating under you just in case you realize. “I won't say their names.”

You grin, “Alright! What's the hot gossip?”

He jolts awake, dropping the teasing façade. “A crew member fancies another,” you open your mouth to guess, Hobie stops you by flicking water to your face. “It's not Miles and Gwen. But Gwen knows who they are.”

You roll your eyes. “Gwen knows everything.”

“Not everythin'” He looks at you and you feel like molten gold.

“C-can you give me a hint?”

“They've killed for the other and they'd do it all over again.” Grey eyes meet yours, the finest silver meets a calm sky reflecting in your eyes as you continue to float on mirrored clouds. “I think they're a disaster together but without the other…I think they'd implode.”

You feign ignorance. “Is it Yuri and James?”

All the seriousness exits Hobie's face, his laugh brings a smile to your own.

“Fuckin' hell, can you imagine?”

“Now those two would kill each other if left alone.”

“Aye, good thing we're not like that, huh?”

“Yeah, good thing.”

You memorize his gleeful face while the sun shines just right on him. Every scar and line on his skin you etch into your mind, carving it into the crevices in your brain to last you a lifetime. You hope it's enough when he inevitably leaves, because you know he will, it's just a matter of when.

And he thinks the same, but he doesn't believe it, doesn't want it, but he'll be damned to not savour the time left he has with you. In that freezing water, under the blazing sun and his toes dipped under grainy sand, he hopes.

You're a flickering flame in his eyes and he's the harsh wind.

“You've been floating on your own for awhile now y’know.”

“I know, I'm trying really hard not to panic.” the water laps at your cheeks, continuing to drift away.

Hobie shakes his head with a ghost of a smile. He lies down, floating right next to you.

“Why'd you become a pirate?” You don't dare move your head or you might lose the momentum you have. Instead, you look at him in the corner of your eyes and you find him doing the same.

“Thought it would be fun.”

“Really? I bet you were proved wrong almost immediately.”

Hobie sighs before softly chuckling, his chest moving with laughter. “Nah, I was right. Wouldn't trade it for the world.”

“Even if you can turn back time?”

“There's…some I would've chosen differently but no, I'd still choose to be a pirate.” He moves his head to face the heavens and you think you'll move heavens just to see the sight in front of you again.

“So that's a no to being a masseuse?”

Hobie laughs again, he finds that he has been doing that a lot these days. “I can still be, but for you only.”

You smile, cheeks hot. “I can't pay you though.”

“You have that pearl on you.” he jokes.

“No! Not my pearl!”

“I think it's an equivalent exchange. Or you can pay a different way—”

“You think you're so charming—” you wave water at him, the act making you drift away.

“I am— Y/N, the waterfall!”

Now you know how it feels to get liters of water dumped right on your head. Guess this was karma for what you did to Hobie back then.

—

The sun is just about starting to set in the horizon, orange and pinks remind you of the day you stumbled upon Hobie's ship. You're still glad it was his ship despite what you've experienced. If it wasn't, you'd be in a worse shape than now, you'd probably be dead in the bottom of the sea or worse, sold off to some rich prick.

You wouldn't have met the crew, your friends, even if the time was brief, a tiny blip in your lifetime. You still think it was the best time you've ever experienced in your life, something to look back on. And that's what anyone could ever ask for in this lifetime, you still think you're lucky despite it all.

The fire roars to life when the wind blows to your right. It warms you, helps dry off the wet clothes on your back. You watch a crab scuttle by on the sand, burrowing inside.

A round red thing with a crown shaped on the top falls on your lap unexpectedly, you look up to find Hobie carrying a handful of it.

“They're finally ripe.” Hobie says happily, grin blinding you.

“What's ripe? Apples? I didn't know they're growing here.” You ask whilst he plops down next to you nonchalantly, several fruits tumbles out of his arms.

“Pomegranates.” he grabs one, rolling the dark red fruit in his hands. You look at him with furrowed brows. “Don't ask me how a tree got here or how it grew because I have no bloody clue.”

“Magic pomegranates then.” You take the fruit from your lap, the smooth skin feels nice to the touch.

Hobie shakes his head, chuckling, he asks for your dagger that you give willingly. “Magic pomegranates.” He says under his breath.

Cutting the fruit expertly, it bursts open, the seeds clinging inside, ripe for the taking. He cuts it delicately, pomegranate opening like a flower blossoming.

“They were still small when we arrived.” He hands it to you. You look at it expectantly. “Do you want me to feed it to you?” He asks when you don't take it.

You roll your eyes before taking the fruit. “That was one time, Hobie. My arms really hurt after all the swimming.”

The seeds lining the walls of the pomegranate are blood red, tiny seeds that look like beady eyes staring expectantly at you. You're fearful for a second until you squeeze one in between your fingers, the juice bursts out and the little eye is no more, your fear is gone with that tiny movement and you're next to him. And you know you'll be alright.

Taking a handful, you munch, letting the sweet juice fill your mouth. “Have we been here that long?” You talk with your mouth full.

“Manners, love.” Hobie, wipes the corner of your lips clean from juice. “A month is a long time.” *not long enough, he thinks.

You still can't believe this has become the norm for you two. You eat together after a swim and he always finds a reason to touch your lips. You're not surprised anymore that you always let him, no matter the excuse he has.

“I have a question.” You finish your half within three minutes. Hobie finds it endearing, he cuts another one for you.

“Go ahead.”

“Hmm? No sarcasm this time?”

He side glances, “That’s dangerous,” his voice is flat. “That better?” Sarcasm drips off him like the pomegranate juice seeping through his fingers.

“Much, what did Karl mean when he was saying goodbye?”

“hmm?”

“When he said you'll meet him at the usual place.”

“That, there's a town down south.” He speaks whilst he prepares the fruit for you. “It's a pirate's safe haven. No guards, no agents of the crown, just the lot of us roaming around freely.” handing you the fruit, you look at him intently, wordlessly telling him to continue.

Hobie loves that part of you, the curiosity, always asking questions about the world, granted it gets annoying at times but he wouldn't have it differently. He'd answer anything you ask to the best of his abilities. Better yet, he'd take you there so you could see it for yourself.

“There's a tavern there, owned by an old friend of ours, Riri’s her name. Maybe I could introduce her to you when we get out of here.” He watches something pass by your eyes. “After you find your family, maybe you could come visit. The place is called the ‘mermaid's head.’ I think you'd like it.”

“I don't even know if they exist.” You say quietly. If Hobie wasn't so close to you he wouldn't have heard.

“Mermaids?”

You softly laugh, “No, my family. But mermaids could exist, after the whole sea monster thing—”

“I'll help you find them.” Hobie stops you before you change the subject, again.

“Hobie,” you sigh, fingers picking at the pomegranate seeds. “You don't have to. I know you want to avenge the crew and—” you can't say her name. “—What he did to us, I'm a big girl, I can handle myself.”

Hobie stares off in the distance. “Still, I know some people that could dig out records of ‘em.” He looks back at you, eyes darkened by clouds. “What's your last name, I know ‘Asshole’ doesn't fit you.”

You suck in a breath, “I don't know, My m— guardian, I guess, took care of me since I was a baby. I think she didn't know either.” you could only stare at the ruby fruit in your hands.

“What happened to them? Your guardian.”

“I-I don't know, I left home a long time ago.”

Hobie reads your expression and your choice of words, he knows you're not ready to tell the full story. “Does it have to do with O’hara? If he does then I'll add him to my list for you.”

You crane your neck up to look at him with knitted brows. “Your list?”

“My shit list, a group of knobheads that I need to put a bullet in their heads.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you're an absolute angel?” you joke yet your comment almost made the fruit in his hand fall to the sandy ground.

“That's a first, I'd like to keep hearing it though.” Just from you, he wanted to scream.

“Don't push your luck, Hobie. I don't toss that name around freely.” You continue eating again.

“Maybe you should, you'll get more pomegranates from me.” he tilts his head towards you, blinking, long lashes fluttering, and attempting to flirt.

Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. You can't believe that worked on you. “Please, if I wanted more I'd just look at you sweetly and you'd give me one.”

Your counter has him shaking his head and looking away from you with a scoff, feigning offense. His hand almost squishes the fruit in his tight grip.

“I'm not that easy, love.” you try not to look affected by the nickname.

“K-keep telling yourself that, angel.” you almost flubbed it, the nickname sizzles in your tongue like hot oil.

You two end up glancing away from each other like a couple of school children with a crush.

Hobie clears his throat, scratching his neck, he flinches back at the juice now sticking to his skin. “Y'know, pomegranate skin is used to dye cloth.” he bounces back faster than you.

“Interesting, the name pomegranate is derived from the latin word pōmum that means ‘apple’ so I was technically right on my first guess.”

“I was tryin' to impress you with my vast knowledge and you hit me with fuckin' latin.” He raises a brow. “Why do you even know latin?”

“There's latin in medicine.”

He copies your voice, “‘There's latin in medicine,’ I definitely knew that.” You laugh, despite the mocking way he said it, knowing him, it was a joke to help soften the blow of you one upping him. “If I ever need a translation, I'll come and get you.”

“I charge per word.”

“How much?” He rides with the bit.

“A pearl.”

“Per fuckin' word?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, grinning.

“You get one pearl and you become a greedy little shit.” He scoffs, eating a handful of seeds to hide the giddy smile on his lips.

“Speaking of medicine, I want to teach you how to dress your own wound. Y’know, just in case I'm not there.” Hobie knows what you really meant.

“Sure,” he nods, avoiding your eyes, afraid of what he finds underneath them. “After we finish eatin’”

“Good, alrighty.” you say awkwardly.

—

“Fuck!” Hobie's hands fly towards your bleeding hand. “Why'd you do that for?!”

The self inflicted wound stings but it was necessary for the demonstration. The cut behind your hand weeps, crimson ebbing out of Hobie's attempt at stopping the bleeding.

“To teach you how to properly clean wounds.”

“Couldn't you have found a better way without hurting yourself? Hell, you could've cut a pomegranate and used that instead.”

“It's a tiny cut, it doesn't even hurt that much.” It's true, the wound is the same size as an eyelash, yet Hobie still doesn’t leave his hands from your own.

“You're mad”

“A side effect of hanging around you too much.” He gives you a glare and you smile sweetly. “You're doing good though, the first step is to stop the bleeding. I'd teach you how to suture but we don't have the supplies for it.”

“You could be a governess if being a pirate doesn't work out for you.”

“Funny, I'm deducting points from you.”

“There's points?” Hobie asks eagerly.

—

His face is close to yours while he painstakingly rubs crushed herbs on your wound. So close that his breath fans your eyelashes as he huffs in frustration from how the herb doesn't stick to your skin. Too close that you can see the blue specks in his eyes that you've never noticed before. Like the stars in the sky, the fire illuminating the side of his face, you see him in a new light.

“This is harder than it looks.” His touch is gentle, more than careful lest he accidentally opens the cut.

“Gives you an appreciation for me huh?”

“I always appreciate you.” Murmured words bring your eyes down to his lips.

Hobie feels your stare, lifting his head up, you're a breath away from him.

You both shudder a breath, waiting for something, anything to happen. You leave it to fate.

He swallows thickly. With slow movements, he cups your cheek, aromatic herbs from his fingers wafts your senses; combined with sea salt and ashes, the sand grating from under you, the waves sound ever louder in your ears. From his warm touch to his searing eyes, your heart quickens, skin practically melting.

You're overwhelmed, yet you don't move away. Instead, you hold his stare, hands inching to grasp his shirt, balling it in your fist.

“Can I—?” Hobie asks.

And you answer immediately. “Yes.” too fast to your liking. “W-what were you asking?”

Before he could elaborate, he thought hard for a moment. If he does this, what would happen? How would you react? as brash and spontaneous he can be, he has learned his lesson, thinking of the consequences he'd face, the consequences you'd face after he indulges.

After all, he's a knife that's meant to cut and bleed, a blade that's meant to kill and maim. He thinks a weapon such as him shouldn't even touch such a precious thing like you, iridescent in his eyes, porcelain in his blood soaked hands. He's afraid to dirty your soul with his, but he already has and he'll regret it his entire life.

“Hobie?” You ask, breathlessly. The both of you still sat frozen in each other's hands.

But you can take it, the knife that's meant to bleed you out, the same blade that holds you soft and tender, not cutting or slicing. Instead, the cold steel of his hand is kissing your skin like dew drops on petals. For once, the knife that's made to hurt is tucked away, hidden away from sight and all that's left is him.

Despite the need to press your lips against him, despite saying yes to a question unasked, you don't move too.

You've buried yourself in a shallow grave, shallow enough to claw yourself out of it, but deep enough to stay buried.

It's Hobie's choice, and whatever he decides, you'll take.

And underneath all the stars and seafoam gathering near you, he makes a choice.

Hobie leans in, instead of doing what he wanted to do, he lays his forehead on top of yours, letting his warmth drown you, letting his scent blanket over you, masking the scent of herbs and embers. He closes his eyes, the hand holding you trembles slightly.

Love is smothering and suffocating, he thinks from experience, he doesn't want to kill you just because he wants to hold on to you tighter.

You let him go, sliding your hands upwards, finding penchant behind his neck to cradle it gently.

This was enough, and if this is the only thing he could give you and the only thing you could provide, you'd gladly take it. Hobie is content enough to hold you like this. It’s not exactly what he wanted, what you wanted, but it's enough.

You don't want to leave the island anymore. You have a feeling he doesn't want to either.

It feels like forever that you've stayed glued to each other, but to his dismay, you careen away.

Sniffing, you pat his cheek, not knowing if it was for his own comfort or yours. “We don't have a clean cloth for wrapping. Sorry, I didn't realize. I'll wash one real quick so we can continue.” You feel his hand wrap around your own. “I'll just be on the shores where you can still see me.”

Standing up, Hobie looks up at you with reverence. Hand clasped in yours, he pretends nothing happened just like you have.

“The bathing thing you said weeks ago, was that actually real or were you fucking with me?” That wasn't what you expected.

You shrug with a shit eating grin that could rival Hobie's “I dunno, maybe.”

“Wanker.” He says it like how he calls you ‘love’

“Captain” you salute with your two fingers, winking, walking away backwards on the sand just to see his rare flustered face.

—

Hobie sleeps soundly next to you, his soft snores keeping you awake. Smiling to yourself, you can't fathom the sweet and angelic face he has on when he's asleep after seeing him break a man's neck. You can't believe that's a fond memory for you nowadays.

The shelter he made shields you both from the elements with help from the red sails, you silently thank Ned.

Hobie quivers in his sleep, muscles tensing up, muttering nonsense. Fists dig into sand, his muttering turns into groans that have you concerned.

Grasping his shoulder, you try to shake him awake.

“Hobie—” he yelps, legs kicking. “Hey, wake up.” You say directly above his ear. “Hobie”

“MJ!” He yells.

You flinch away but he still needs you so with a deep inhale, you rub his back, trying to keep the nightmare away. Eyes glossy, you stare at the open sea.

She's dead yet he says her name like she isn't, like she sits right next to him, holding his heart in her cold dead hands. And he clutches onto hers like a babe to his mother's arms. Her name tucked inside his fist, gripping and refusing to let go.

She's dead and you're not but why does it feel that you are?

You don't notice him wake up, his gravelly voice and warm hand splayed over the small of your back shakes you back to your body.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You sniff, hiding the crack in your voice.

“Go to bed, no one's comin’”

It's been a month and no one's coming, either they forgot you and Hobie, or they think you're dead or worse, they're dead and you've been waiting for nothing.

They can't be, you thought in denial. “They can't be” your voice breaks in front of him.

“Go to bed, love.” he tugs you down, and you oblige.

Protecting the back of your head, Hobie lets you use his arm as a pillow.

Despite what transpired a few minutes ago, you embrace him, hiding your face from the world on his chest.

Hobie holds you and he'll hold you until you say otherwise.

Your quiet sobs fill the air, everything crumbles over you, burying you under all the weight. He hugs you tightly, hoping it's enough to shield you away from the cruelty of the world.

[sunnyie-eve]

49 | Type

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Matt jelly

| MASTERLIST |

Today Dani was having a guest on her channel that wasn't any of the boys. Honestly, Matt didn't like who her guest was because he knew how some of her fans were. They shipped her with almost every dude she talked to and knew.

"Did it have to be him?" Matt watches Dani play on her phone as they hung out in her room.

"Do you prefer your brother? You know, the one that everyone at the moment says we would've been a cute couple?" She looks up from her phone to look at him.

"That's stupid because you told him he missed his chance." Matt rolls onto his back, "So they need to stop staying they want it to happen." He adds then says in a mocking tone while making a face, "They would be such a good match for each other. Why can't she just agree to be his?"

"If they only knew I was yours." Dani leans over smiling before giving him a kiss.

"That's the only damn reason I want people to know." He sits up, "You're mine. Not his or anyone else." Dani giggles as he pulls her closer so he can hold her, "If guys wanted to they could try making a move on you because to them you're single."

"They could try but my answer would always be the same. No." She grabs his face to kiss him, "Now, stop pouting about me filming with Carrington." She moves away from him.

When he arrives they get into her car parked in front of the house, "Hi." Dani starts her car video, "I'm sure y'all know Carrington." She adds, "He's my first guest that's not my roommates or brother." She says as he smiles.

"I'm very honored."

"And this is only happening because Jake and Tara talked us into this. This is our first time hanging out alone." She laughs.

"That's why I'm nervous. It's new and I'm never like this." He laughs now, "But it's exciting."

Dani agrees nodding her head going for her phone but she didn't have it with her, "Oh, I forgot something inside." She motions towards the house.

"It's okay." He lets her know.

"I'll be quick." She opens the car door.

"Again, it's okay." He chuckles as she rushes inside. "Yeah, so we're doing this because our friends wanted us to." He starts to talk to the camera by himself, "We said okay. Okay guys. But today... We're here to gossip. What a great way to get to know each other. From what I see and know Dani seems amazing."

"Was I quick?" Dani rejoins Carrington in the car.

"Yeah, I've just been ranting to the viewers." He lets her know.

"Again, I'm sorry. I don't know how I forgot my phone inside."

"It didn't bug me." He says before changing the topic, "You know people said you have a type? Have you seen that?" He asks her.

"What?" She was confused never seeing such a thing.

"Yeah like..."

"How?" She laughs.

"Because when we had that group get together last week at Jake's. We were chatting in the background of a video Jake posted so people say you have a type." He explains to her then sees one on the guys leaving, "Oh look, a triplet is leaving."

"Matt." She waves at him so he waves back.

"But because we talked people think your type is brunettes with blue eyes." Carrington goes back to what they were talking about, "I feel like that is such a reach." He laughs, "Just because you're close to three others that fit that. What do you think?" He asks her.

"Actually, they aren't wrong for once." She giggles.

"So that's actually your type when it comes to looks? Is it the eyes that do it for you?" He gives her a look and she smiles since that was the main thing.

"Some blue eyes are just so beautiful." She tells him, "You, the triplets, Colby's and Sam's. I have dark blue but light ones..." She smiles more as Carrington looks at her.

"I love yours." He lets her know.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's a deep blue." He nods his head.

"But yeah, my ex and everyone I've even had a crush on had light blue eyes." She tells him.

"Now people are gonna assume." He gives her a look and she nods her head rolling her eyes a bit.

"You and the other two."

"Just because someone fits that look doesn't automatically mean you like them. You can find them attractive but you aren't attracted to their personality." He goes on to add what he believes in.

"You completely get it. You and the triplets are good looking but I don't automatically have feelings for y'all."

"That would be odd." He laughs, "It's... Can you imagine just having feelings for someone based on how they look?"

"Good looking but is the biggest red flag." She adds.

"Like it's fine to be attracted to someone but you can't just go off of that. Don't do that guys." Carrington looks right into the camera, "Be smart."

"Be attracted to their personality." Dani does the same, "That's way better than looks."

"Looks are a bonus, guys, trust me." Carrington tells the viewers.

"Personality, looks." Dani makes a top three list, "What's third?" She asks him.

"I don't know." He thinks, "I don't know, you gotta be funny as well." He starts to laugh.

After about another like 20 minutes they finish up then he leaves while Dani goes back inside. Matt was still out and about so Dani got to rest by getting some time alone. With it being quiet Dani decided to take a nap because she woke up at 5:30am for some reason. 

When Matt gets back home, after buying stuff for around the house and food, he goes to Dani's room to see her sleeping. Not having anything to do and bored out of his mind he slides into her bed next to her.

Immediately, his arms slip around her from behind, slotting himself right up against her back. The gentle press of her spine against his chest makes him smile to himself because he can never get enough of how fucking perfectly she fit there. Leaning forward he press his mouth to the soft skin of her shoulder, peppering a few soft kisses there.

Dani hums keeping her eyes shut, "What?" She quietly mumbles still super tired.

"I wanna nap too." He whispers to her as he nudges his nose against the side of her neck. Dani hums in response moving her hand to rest over the one Matt has pressed against her stomach.

Matt grins against her skin. "Love you." His breath warm against her neck. He made sure not to say I this time because he didn't want to scare her again like last time.

Both of them succumb to the comfort of being with one another, "I love you too." She whispers so quietly Matt almost didn't hear her. He stays silent with a smile across his face as his fingers intertwine with hers before allowing himself to fall asleep as well.

[deblklesb]

[Head Over Heels — Abby x Reader Oneshot]

[rugby player!abby, artist!reader, fluff, pining]

cw: reader is a total mess, abby is brother's friend. there's not explicit content but still MDNI.

a/n: I've put my whole simpussy in this, like... reader is a loser lesbian and this fact is totally self-inserted, sorry not sorry. again, so so sorry for the wait! this is just some fluff with reader being a simp, a mess, all over the place for abby anderson teheehee 👉🏾👈🏾, i hope you like it anon!!!

word count: 3,4k | not proof read

!reblogs are highly appreciated!

The cool winter wind was reaching your face as you pedaled to your class, high speed across campus because you were late. The alarm didn't clock, you took too much time eating breakfast, and now you wish to all the heavens the teacher has not arrived yet.

Your brother was very much confused when you started to run around the house this morning.

"I didn't know you had class, you usually wake up first so I assumed…"

"The alarm didn't clock", you yelled from the bathroom, brushing your teeth as fast as you could, but decently.

Now, the open buttons of your shirt allowed the wind to come in so you wouldn't be as sweaty. Fixing your hair after parking and locking your bicycle, you greeted someone working and headed to the room, so frustrated to get late to your favorite class.

"You're lucky our model for today is more late than you", the teacher said as soon as you got inside.

"Sorry, Ms. Addams", your smile was weak. You wanted to disappear, that was your favorite teacher.

The only tripod available was in the front, no one liked it because the lightning from there was so confusing it messed up every sketch. Lucky for you, during winter the sun isn't that bright, so you fixed your stuff and just got a moment to breathe. Being a teacher's pet didn't mean sitting in the front, that was new for you.

"Hey, what happened?" Gloria, your friend, reached out. "You're never late"

"My alarm", you shudder, sighing. "Well, I'm here now. We just have to wait for the model"

"I heard is some girl from the rugby team"

Well, that's news. Your teacher is doing some work indeed, trying to expose her students to different body shapes and all.

"Nice. Perhaps she's nice and will carry me around, my legs are burning from pedaling so hard", it was a joke, a silly one, but as soon as a woman who wasn't enrolled in that class got in, you knew she could definitely carry you around. You also knew that because you knew her.

She was probably the biggest woman you've seen in person, and absolutely the most beautiful.

Freckled, creamy skin on her arms and face, honey-blonde hair in a braid that fell on her shoulder, a firm and strong body worthy of an athlete. Her clothes were simple, just cargo pants with a plain shirt and boots, but boy, oh boy, she was looking gorgeous. As always.

"Sorry for the time, boss, I had to get out later from early practice", for some unknown reason, her voice, too, sounded too good to be true and made you melt inside with just a simple phrase that wasn't even directed to you. "Hope it doesn't mess around with the class"

"It's okay, Abigail. And you don't have to call me boss, we've talked about it", your teacher smiled fondly, hugging the tall woman and making obvious the size difference. You were probably the same height as the dark-skinned woman, so that means you were as high as Abby's chin. Being next to her on other situations made you very self-aware of that fact.

This useless information would always make you squirm. This time it was on the chair in the middle of the class, hoping for all the God's nobody noticed.

"Kids, this is Abby. She will be our model for today and two other classes, so make use of the anatomy to study properly", she was very comfortable next to the rugby player, which made you deduce they knew each other well. "Well, now go prep yourself, darling, we have to start"

"Do I… Take everything, or something?" Just the mention of her being nude made your mind buzz around and it wasn't a good sign, considering you had to focus to draw.

"Keep your underwear, please", the older woman smiled sympathetically, turning around and heading to the back of the room, her usual initial spot in every live reference class.

Abby took off her boots and left next to an empty chair, starting to undress then.

Nobody was looking at you, but you tried to keep it cool and professional. Ignoring the heat on your face and the sweat arising on your palms, you looked at Gloria to hide your embarrassment and noticed she was looking back at you trying not to laugh.

"You're very gay", she whispered, making you roll your eyes and then look at your empty sketchbook. She wasn't wrong, though, you were very much a lesbian and it was obvious.

Those type of reactions were normal whenever Abby was around, but you could definitely go through that class without it.

You put effort into abstracting the sensations and feelings that make room into you as soon as Abby stands in the small, lifted platform in the center of the room, the ambient light hitting her just right. She positioned herself in a simple form, waving briefly at you from there when she spotted you in the front. You did the same back, a small smile to be nice - but not too big to give it away that being around her made you almost piss your pants - and then you all started to work

It was a figure drawing training, something you usually hated because you had to think too much about form, proportion, perspective and lightning. You loved to do loose sketches and grew very fond of gesture drawing, too much for your liking, so that now that you had to stick to the forms and not the rhythm and movement, your mind froze a little. Despite that, you loved doing art and loved that class even though it had nothing directly linked to your major.

Abby had strong features, in the sense of focus. The muscles of the arms and legs, the shape of her face, the abdomen and her whole posture caught your attention too much. It wasn't just the imagery, but a whole set of little elements that formed a distinctive energy. Even the braided hair was part of that, and at each second, each line traced and marked shadow, you tried to remind yourself that it was a class.

After 10 minutes or so, she took a break - admittedly, you had no idea how those models stood still for so long. While she stretched and relaxed her muscles, people started to talk with each other around the room, the small buzz of conversations surrounding, as you turned to Gloria.

"I'm dying here", you whispered, stretching your hands and fingers a bit. "She's so pretty"

"I have to admit… She is very handsome. I don't usually hang out in your brother's dorm so I don't see her often…"

"They're together all the time, I am very lucky to have my face shoved into a book all the time because then I don't have to have buckled knees around her" Gloria laughed at your despair, the whispers almost a cry for help.

"Let's gather our focus, people", Ms. Addams called, and just like that the break ended.

Although the object of analysis was Abby's body and structure, you just had to make a small drawing of her face. Shading and putting too much effort, you ended up doing another one. And by the time the class ended, you had a main figure drawing of her body in the first pose, two others of her face and another simple sketch. A very productive class, and you felt yourself bursting with inspiration still.

"I have a class in five minutes, so I'll have to go now, boss!", the blonde reached to her clothes as people started to pack their stuff. You tried not to look at her figure too much, but took your time putting the material in place just because, y'know… Care. It had nothing to do with the possibility to look at her from afar a little bit more.

"That's okay, Abigail. Thank you for your help, same time next week. Send a hug to your father!", Ms. Addams waved goodbye.

"Hey" you looked up from your backpack when Gloria tapped your shoulder. She pointed to the door, where Abby was standing, ready to go. The blonde was looking at you, a smile on her face. "Tell your brother he owes me twenty bucks. See ya!"

"Okay, bye", you nodded and chuckled lightly at the comment, imagining the type of bet they both must've done this time.

As soon as the other students started to get out, your friend gave you small punches in the arm, giggling.

"Stop!", you felt your face warm, it was so fucking ridiculous to be like this around her every time. And the worst part is that she didn't even notice you that much, so you were a head over heels with zero hope.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"What do you mean you were naked around my sister?!" You rolled your eyes with the discussion, ready for the mess your brother was about to make.

"Nobody was naked, I had underwear!" Abby's voice was playful, but you knew your brother was two steps from going serious about it.

"Stop being a drama king, asshole", you grunted while going to the kitchen, not even looking at them to escape the risk of drooling over the tall woman sitting on the couch.

"Hey, I'm the big brother here, I was supposed to be looking over you!" His voice started to get a pitch higher, you could imagine the indignant face already.

"You don't even give me rides home, too busy with your flings", you shout from the kitchen now, filling up your bottle.

You were trying so hard to focus on studying a subject you were not interested in, ready to throw it in the air to watch some Ghibli movies instead. Filling the water bottle was almost an excuse to get out of that madness, but having to hold your reactions because of Abby's presence was not ideal.

"That's right, get him again! Get him for me!" And now her voice is closer, almost like she's in the kitchen with you. It makes you flinch slightly, almost dropping the bottle before you turn around to see her strong figure on the entrance.

"Look, you touch her and I will fucking throw that rugby ball right into your face!"

"Jesus Christ, Matt, shut up! Nobody is keeping you from your shit, leave me alone?! It's just Abby!"

Your mom would be annoyed to be around you both, good thing you lived together alone.

"Yeah, Matt, it's just Abby!" She repeats.

You finally look at her properly. She has a simple shirt on and sweatpants, it's casual but it looks too good on her - as usual. Her hair is down - you loved her hair down - and a scrunchie lies on her wrist. Her freckles are so visible from where you stand, it's almost like cute details painted directly on her face to compose the most beautiful work of art.

"I would like to see it, by the way", you snap out of your trance with her words directed to you.

Her hips touch the kitchen counter when she's one step closer, a sympathetic smile making your hands tingle and her tone weaker now that she's just talking to you.

"What?"

"Your drawings. From the class"

"Oh-", you look away, trying to come up with an excuse. "But… We still have other classes to go. It's better to see it at the end and all… And they're not even that good", you're holding that water bottle for your dear life, afraid that it slips from your hands due to the sweat.

"You don't wanna show me, that's fine", she chuckle, hands up in acceptance.

"It's not that, it's just-"

"No, I'm not being funny, it's serious. If you don't wanna show me, it's okay. Was just curious y'know, after all I'm just standing there. Don't know how you do whatever you're doing"

That's the most you've ever talked to Abby, and she's so nice. Genuinely trying to make you comfortable. And it makes you fucking sick, you just wanna spit out that you would like to have her posing for you every day for ever, to have her like your muse, to kiss her face after drawing it millions of times- You're such a loser.

"Oh, I get it…" you nod, trying to come up with a good response. "Well, I guess after the classes, I mean when you stop posing for us, I could show you whatever I did. Just wanna be more confident, it takes a little bit more of time to be familiar to the subject"

"If that's your saying, boss lady, I absolutely believe it", she's smiling wider now and you just wanna scream into a pillow about how incredibly cute her cheeks are.

"Okay, ahm… I have to go back to the room… To study other stuff that is not art, unfortunately", you point to the corridor, mind going blank with the mere proximity between you both. "So, uh… See you later?"

"Hope so. Good study session", Abby gives you space to get out of the kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon you keep repeating that interaction in your mind. Analyzing you every word and wondering if she thought you were, like, embarrassing.

Still, the image of her cute cheeks when she smiled at you and the way she seemed really interested in your drawings took over your attention, it was all you could think about the rest of the day because you're such a simp and she's so beautiful. Fuck this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's now game season, which means that the college campus is a mess. Everybody seems so agitated, a buzz surrounds each corner while posters adorn the walls and murals, calling for the next big rugby game.

The hype around the event kinda mobilizes you too, even though you're not even that into sports. You're actually so out of this type of entertainment, but eventually if you sit to watch with your brother you get so excited and exalted that it almost looks like you've been following the teams forever. Matt actually thinks it is so funny that you keep asking him the rules and then start to scream at the TV once you'd pick it up enough to finally enjoy the match.

"If they don't kick their asses I'll actually lose fifty bucks" Gloria reveals as you both enter the building for the art class.

"Fifty?!" Your eyes almost jump from your skull. "Do you have that much faith in our team?"

"Well, don't you?"

"I don't know", she laughs. "Really, I don't follow them… But if you bet fifty bucks, they must be at least decent"

"Your girlfriend is a good player, if that's what you wanna ask", the taller woman smiles at you with that suggestive manner.

"I didn't ask!"

"But you were thinking about it"

"Shut up." You definitely were. "And she's not my girlfriend" Unfortunately.

As you both enter the room, early enough this time, you recall the fact that it's your last class with Abby as a model. Something inside of you mourns the future absence of such a big source of inspiration for you. Your sketchbook (the personal one) has pages filled with drawings of her - you didn't tell anyone, but you went through her instagram page and used some gym photos as references.

One night you brother stormed in your room and you had to close the book as fast as possible, trying to mask your embarrassment. If he knew that you were so into Abby, he would be a hundred percent more unbearable.

"Hey, teacher", the tall woman soon walked in the class, backpack and a massive bottle of water on one hand. "Last day, uh?"

"Yes, dear", people started to settle for the beginning of the session, fixing materials and angles. "I would like to thank you for your time and disposition, I imagine it isn't easy to stand in front of a class of stranges that are meticulously looking at you", everybody chuckled. Abby took her shirt in the corner, putting the clothes on a chair. Against your will, you absolutely checked on her. But life wouldn't let you have it, and so, like being conscious of your actions, the blonde glanced back at you, which caused you to face away immediately. Jesus fucking Christ, could you be more obvious? "So thank you, again, and I hope you somehow enjoyed the experience"

"I certainly did, boss" She smirked friendly, going to the small platform in front part of the room and standing with arms on her back, legs slightly spareted. Why on earth was she so good looking? "I don't really mind the looks, after all there are dozens of people staring at the games and judging us all the time, so… Well, thank you too for inviting me, it was truly nice! Needing againg, I'm here for it!"

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked to the side, Gloria was smirking like she knew something you didn't.

"You'll get your pages wet with all the drooling", she muttered.

"Wanna see who gets the pages wet?" You playfully put a hand on your own watter bottle, having her giggling.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?"

Einstein for sure had a point with relativity, because that class flew away like a lightning for you. The biggest pity of all, since Abby wouldn't be there after that day.

Once again you end up doing a main drawing of her body, using the remaining time to put some doodles of her face around it. It was like this for every class, different than the ones she wasn't the model. However, by that time you were already used to sketching her - hence the alone sessions in your room - so you could do much easier work now. You hoped no one noticed this fact, because a question about how you got so instinctive when drawing Abby would be blatantly dodged.

You already could tell in detail the difference between her arm muscles and the last model, for example, but not only the imagery of it: you thought about the biological singularity of her muscle development.

As soon as the class ended, you closed the sketchbook and tried not to think too deeply about the whole situation. It would be fine. Abby would stop being the model and so you would see her less, consequently thinking about her less and moving on so easily. Like, so easily.

"Hey", you froze with her voice, more specifically when noticing that it was almost next to you. Her face was the first thing you saw when looking up from your backpack. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

"Should I?"

"Well… I could use some cheers", she was still shirtless. Heck, she was still in her intimate clothes.

You were not thinking about how she used a simple bra and nice black boxers.

"I thought you had plenty. With all the staring", why were you being so sarcastic?

"Your staring is kinda different, if that's what you wanna hear", she smirked, crossing her arms. Good lord, save me from barking in front of her with all this attitude. "And I would like you there"

"So maybe I'll go", you shrugged, trying to be cool about it. Something inside of you said that maybe you were being too cool about it, maybe she would think you don't really care; that's not what you want her to think. Shit, were you doing this wrong?

"Don't tell your brother I asked you this while almost nude, I don't think he would let me get close to you ever again", her chuckles were so cute, she was so cute. You were so done.

"Oh, do you want to get close to me again?" Abby stepped back while still smirking, everybody seemed to be out already - though you couldn't tell exactly, she was still your main focus.

"Maybe" Now she shrugged, finally getting close to her clothes again. "Preferably when he's not around"

What was that? Oh, probably your heart skipping several beats.

"Talking like that, I might as well think you're hitting on me, Abby" The most surprising thing was how you weren't laying down on a puddle at this point. Instead, you were chuckling back, hands sweaty and stomach twisting in a rush.

"Am I?" She grabbed her pants. "You'll probably have to come to the game and see!"

After another smirk from her, you just shook your head and walked away from the room with a simple "See you later then".

The interaction started to play again in your mind, Gloria was standing outside with wide eyes and a smile fighting to appear. That adrenaline rush made your mind a whirlwind.

"What the fuck was that?!" Your friend whispered, holding your arm and following your steps.

[png dividers by @cafekitsune]

[wannaeatramyeon]

Fem!reader Isekai in Lookism ?

Anon, so sorry I'm answering this exactly 3 months later. You're my last request from May and I was soooo close to deleting it because I have had exactly zero ideas. Then I got partly inspired by @honeyhotteok fic here and now I'm running on less than 3hrs sleep in work and it's your fault. Oh yeah, and I've completely twisted the ask as well. It's not even close. So all that wait was for nothing 🙇🏻‍♀️

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 2

There's something wrong with people your age these days.

Everyone seems to be either in a gang or up to some shady shit. Seriously what is going on. Is this all a big joke that only you aren't in on?

Just the other day you swear you saw a group of guys in boiler suits punch through some walls across the street. Like what the fuck? What did the wall ever do to you? And then someone apparently called Tabasco starts chanting something about Burn Knuckles and oh my fucking god it's 11pm please shut up.

Oh course you never said that, you still have some sense of self preservation.

And how does anyone even have the time for all this. Between school and this part time job, you barely have enough hours to sleep.

You miss Daniel, the coworker who you haven't seen for a good year but used to gossip into the early morning with. He always seemed a bit nervous and fidgety when you voiced your concerns and observations, but you just assumed he was a nervous and fidgety kinda guy.

There would have been some fun stories to share. Instead now you work the graveyard shift on your own.

.

.

Case in point, the guy standing in front of you looks like one bad conversation away from a mental breakdown.

And really you're not in the habit of checking out customers but he cuts a striking figure. Every exposed inch of skin besides his face inked, and (you silently ask for his forgiveness for the objectification) the biggest chest you have ever seen. What even is this guy eating? What is this guy injecting? Lifting?

The question is almost out of your mouth but then you see the look in his eyes and slam your lips shut.

Nevermind. You ring his purchases through and tell him to have a good night.

.

.

You're restocking the shelves when you notice a guy with a scar across his lip and nose, dripping blood from god knows where all over your freshly mopped floor.

Which is alarming in itself but come on man. Look at the floors. You're making it so fucking gross.

He notices you watching him, gives you an apologetic look and says he'll take care of it.

He makes a quick call and in comes 26 guys, one after the other and they line up in front of him.

You know it's exactly 26 because you counted all 26. And you've also watched all 26 pairs of dirty shoes trample over your previously nice clean floor.

The blood drippy guy asks politely for the mop and bucket and you think this must be some sort of prank because why the hell is this even necessary. 26 guys to share your one solitary mop and bucket and to clean a goddamn floor that you managed in 10 minutes.

"Get out." He blinks at you, taken aback by your tone. "Or I'm calling the police."

.

.

"You can bring your pups in!" You call out to the emo teen lurking outside.

Health and safety be damned because look how fucking cute these dogs are!

He hesitates but then the rain grows heavier and all three rush in.

You miss the suspicious glance he gives you, too fixated on how adorable the dogs are. You don't even mind their wet fur or muddy paws because look at these little babies!

And huh, this guy must really love them too with his, you squint, God? Dog? hoodie on. D'aww that's so stinking sweet.

.

.

Damnit, you knew these two would be trouble the moment they stepped foot into your store.

The tall blonde just gives off a distinct creepy vibe and the shorter one has his entire eyebrows shaved off.

Shaved. Off.

You couldn't help but stare when you put their purchases through and noticed some regrowth and stubble. Is this a trend you missed out on? Either way you're glad because there's no way you're shaving off your own eyebrows.

They converse in Japanese, not even saying a word to you. No thanks or anything, which is fine you suppose. But then they pay you in fucking yen.

They're out the door by the time you see the cash and fuck. Your boss is going to go apeshit when he finds out.

.

.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

A new blonde guy addresses you tonight and for crying out loud, you just want a quiet shift.

What do you think of his white suit? With the garish LV logos? That it's tacky as fuck. That anyone with any sort of taste would never ever wear that. You keep your actual thoughts to yourself and instead just say it's fine.

That does nothing to subdue the blonde. He does stop talking to you though, and just mutters bitterly under his breath. You catch the words blind and tasteless.

His partner smirks at your response.

And isn't that a whole other kettle of fish because it's currently 2am and you're indoors and who the hell wears sunglasses right now. You think he's a douche of the highest calibre.

The smirk is wiped from his face when he asks for cigarettes and you ask for ID. He doesn't have it on him.

"No can do. No ID, no sale."

He leans aggressively into your space, and reveals his eyes peering over his sunglasses.

My god, what is up with this duo? One with the tacky suit, and this one with the ugly black contact lenses.

You don't budge and the guy is dragged out by the blonde cackling.

Ugh. That laugh gives you a headache for the rest of your shift.

.

.

You really wish customers would stop involving you in their conversation.

This one, who looks exactly like how you would imagine a SoundCloud rapper that has their mother following them and no one else, asks you to listen to his music.

He insists that he's good as the blonde girl rolls her eyes.

You listen to about 10 seconds and make up your mind.

He's wrong. He's very wrong. You want to suggest he gets checked out at the doctor because clearly his ears aren't working properly.

Instead, you mention you like Duke Pyeon, he's more your taste. Has he heard of him? It's the wrong thing to say though because this guy looks angrier than you've ever seen anyone.

"Don't start Vin, I've seen you listening to his music." The girl scoffs.

'Vin' shouts in indignation and storms off with his friend trailing closely behind.

.

.

"Can I help?" You ask with your customer service voice and customer service smile.

He has been standing in front of the hair dyes for a good ten minutes as his friend looks increasingly bored and you can't blame him.

"No thanks, I'm just browsing," he responds and you tell him you'll be just over there if he needs anything.

You kill some time playing on your phone, look up, and both of them are still in the exact same spot.

The one with the H on his neck looks about ready to tear his hair out.

"Come on bro, just pick one!"

"No Warren, this is important. I need it to suit my new aesthetics."

You shrug and return back to your kitty kat restaurant game.

.

.

"Cool glasses," you tell the guy walking around the store and he looks affronted at first before realising you're being sincere and gives you a small smile instead.

You wonder if you can pull off orange tinted glasses too or whether you'd just look like an idiot. It's probably the latter you decide when you ring up his energy drinks.

"I'm a boxer," he offers, as if you're judging the amount of caffeine he's going to slam down.

"Ok?"

"I need it for my training."

"Sure."

You've seen weirder purchases and weirder combinations. The people coming in looking frantic and buying a single plunger or pack of toilet paper never fails to make you chuckle.

To be honest the amount he's buying is a bit nuts, and you wonder if he's going to drink it all in one go. You probably wouldn't sleep for a year if it was you.

"Enjoy your training," you say, heaving and handing over the bag of 19 cans.

.

.

A mute blonde gestures at you

You try to use some sign language, but he looks at you as if you're crazy. At least you think he does but you can't see his eyes.

Somehow you're able to decipher he's lost his dogs. Four. Golden retrievers. And he asks if you have seen them.

(Huh. Do you have telepathy? Do you have the gift?)

You tell him no and he sprints out.

You spend the rest of your shift trying to move things with your newly discovered psychic powers.

Spoiler: you have zero powers. Zilch.

.

.

You think you might be having a stroke.

Because on what planet did this K-pop idol think the disguise would work. Cap and mask on but tufts of pink hair poking out and dressed completely in white.

It's like he's asking for attention and for people to ooh and aah over who that could be.

As he leaves, you shout that you can't wait for his next album. He turns around in complete shock that you recognised him, as if you solved the world's hardest puzzle.

It's a good job that DG has such a pretty face because what an idiot.

.

.

You hear two voices mention the words Daniel Park and your ears perk up, wondering if it's about your old colleague.

Nah. You're just being silly. It's not an uncommon name at all and too much of a coincidence.

"I haven't seen Daniel in ages! Have you heard from him, Zoe?"

"No," you see her friend shake her head from the corner of your eye.

The brown haired girl tilts her head in thought, "I wonder how Zack is doing too. I haven't seen him in so long."

"Ohhh~ you miss him!"

"O-of course I do! He's a friend!" She blushes bright red and you chuckle to yourself.

'Friend', sure.

For the rest of the shift, you reminisce about how you used to tiptoe around your feelings with your boyfriend, Taehoon, too.