#but you have to when they’d start crawling all over you when you’d sit down

[hischierhoney]

I Know Places

Jack Hughes x actress!reader // masterlist

title & inspo from I Know Places by Taylor Swift. written for the Eras Tour fic challenge! thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this on!

Summary: When the press catches Jack leaving your apartment, things seem set to crumble. But Jack has different ideas. 4.2k words

Warnings: mentions of press/pressure from the media, some mild angst but it’s fixed by the end!!

It’s past 2am when you stumble your way into your New York City townhouse, eyes bleary and tired, limbs even more so. The lights are off, besides the one in the hallway, and you don’t bother to turn any of them on. You just shuck off your jacket and shoes, shuffle your way down the hallway, up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. There’s one thought in your brain, and it’s bed. Warm, cozy, soft, full of blankets and pillows and a man-

You nearly scream at the sight, the gentle slope of shoulders under your fluffy comforter. You press your hand to your racing heart as it all comes flooding back. You, on a layover between Los Angeles and New York, stuck in an airport for longer than planned, on the phone with your boyfriend Jack Hughes.

Jack, who’d promised to pick you up from the airport until your flight got delayed. Jack, who has morning skate at 7am and needs his sleep. Jack, who, in a moment of sleep deprived, airport lounge tequila induced delirium, you had told about the key you keep in a potted plant, and suggested that he let himself in. Suggested he crawl into your bed and fall asleep. Just in the interest of sleeping next to him, of maybe having a couple moments with him in the morning.

You don’t get much time with him. Not nearly as much as you’d both like, at least. The two of you are too busy, too full of your own obligations, with his job and your job. Star hockey player and America’s sweetheart actress- it’s like a pairing from one of those Hallmark movies, the ones with perfect houses draped in fake snow that look like they’d smell like warm cookies. Except this is real. And he’s here.

He looks peaceful, you think, as you pad across the room to be closer. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, on his stomach on the bed, laying in a spread eagle position that’s going to leave it difficult for you to find any space. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths puffing out between them. Jack sleeps like the dead, you’ve found, from the now many times you’ve slept in the same bed. He says he’s trained himself into it, with hockey and all. You’ve witnessed his pregame naps, watched him fall asleep in seconds flat. It’s impressive.

You make your way to the bathroom, doing what little you can muster of your nightly routine. When your eyes start to close on their own accord, you shuffle your way back to the bed, in your pajamas now, and study the scene. How best to handle the boy in your bed, how to fit yourself against his body so that you can finally fall asleep like you’ve been aching to do.

Before you get the chance, there’s the shrill sound of a phone alarm, and Jack sits bolt straight up in bed. You stumble over your own feet, hand over your heart again, breath stolen from your lungs. Jack scrambles for his phone. It’s 2:30 am.

He’s rubbing at his eyes when he scans the room and finds you. Then he mirrors your position, eyes wide, hand over his heart.

“Why th’ fuck are you already here?” He mumbles out.

You choke on a laugh. It’s a hell of a greeting. “What?”

He groans. “Set an alarm. T‘go pick you up.”

You blink at him, half his face illuminated in the pale moonlight that spills in through your window. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and makes him shiver- he’s left the window open slightly, the way you like to sleep. Goosebumps raise on his bare skin. You tear your eyes away.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, bewildered. “I told you to just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, but. I set an alarm,” he repeats. He digs the heel of his palm into his cheek, his lips pulled into a pout. “For 12:30. So I could pick you up.”

You cock your head. “Well, it’s 2:30, so I think you set the wrong alarm.”

He groans loudly, brows furrowed, and then lets out some string of gibberish. He checks his phone again, then sets it down on the nightstand. You watch with curiosity as he flops back down onto the bed, on his back this time, blankets pooling around his waist. He’s bare from the waist up. Not for the first time, you have the urge to press yourself against every inch of his skin.

He seems so untouchable, here. Like in this room, he’s only yours. It’s a heady feeling, to watch him sigh and pout about missing his chance to pick you up from the airport. It’s private, normal, domestic. So few things in your life fit any of those descriptors. It tugs at your heartstrings.

“C’mere,” he calls out, spreading his arms across the mattress again. “Come cuddle.”

You don’t argue. Sleep tugs at your bones the second your head hits the pillow. He tugs at you until you’re plastered against him, the heat of his sleep warm body spreading over you. When he ducks his head to kiss the crown of yours, you sigh happily.

“How was th’ flight?” He asks, his voice still laden with sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re not really in the mood to talk about it. “Missed you.”

He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling with it under your head. “Missed you more.”

You feel his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. You blink through your exhaustion to meet his gaze, and you sigh happily when he kisses you, for real this time. His lips are warm and soft, his little bit of stubble scraping against your skin in an almost hypnotic fashion. This is why you told him about the key. You wanted to come home to him.

The rest of the world melts away, and you’re left with just Jack.

….

You wake up at 11:30 the next morning to an empty, cold bed, a hoodie folded neatly on the end of the bed with the number 86 on the shoulder, and a barrage of notifications on your phone. They’re still rolling in, chiming every so often. Your heart lurches.

There are a billion from your manager- something about being careful and bad look and you didn’t even get in until 2:30 so why was he there- and your stomach sinks even further. When you open twitter, there it is. A grainy, blurry set of photos, of Jack’s shoulder and back as he leaves the townhouse, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his white sneakers bright in the blue early morning light. You can’t see his face in any of them, the hood of his jacket pulled up around his head, which is topped with a beanie and sunglasses. He’s almost unidentifiable, but you know the internet. They’ll figure it out.

It’d be easier if you’d never been seen with him in public before, but you have. Months ago, now, at a charity event hosted by a mutual friend. There’s been a photo of you and Jack from that night, chatting away near the bar in the venue, smiles on both your faces. There’d been a barrage of posts and notifications, then, too- eager Devils fans who were excited to see you talking to him, eager fans of your own who had similar feelings, the other way around. And a text from your manager, reminding you of your upcoming movie, of your male costar who you were supposed to maybe-potentially-possibly be in love with. For the press. For the ratings. But Jack had captured your heart that night, with a teasing joke about Hollywood and a soft little grin on his face, and you’d been unable to forget him.

Now you’re here, in your empty bed while Jack is at practice or meetings, or something in between. It’s not the first time. But it feels like it could be the last.

Jack’s a private person. You are, too, when you can be. When you’d first gone out with him after that first night, he’d seemed wary of all the precautions you took to hide from the press. You’d smiled ruefully and told him that if this was going to happen, he’d have to get used to sunglasses indoors and private rooms and stay at home dates. You’d expected it to scare him off. It usually did- you can’t blame any of them, really.

But it’s been months now, and Jack woke up in your bed this morning. So the scaring didn’t really work as planned.

Text me when you wake up.

That’s the text from Jack. No emojis, a period at the end, no life to it. You fight the urge to roll over, press your face into the pillow, and go back to sleep. Try again later. Hope this is a nightmare.

You text him back, something equally as lifeless. He’s probably busy, he probably won’t have time anytime soon, so you’ll have to wait until then to figure this out-

The phone rings. It’s an echo of Jack’s shrill alarm hours ago, except he’s not here to rub at his eyes sleepily and smile at you and make you feel better. Now it’s his contact, the simple “Jack” flashing across your screen. You sigh and swipe to answer.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks on the single syllable, gravelly from stale plane air and travel and disuse.

“Hi,” Jack echoes. His tone is warm. Soft.

You swallow. “I’m-“

“-sorry,” Jack says, talking at the same time as you, saying the exact same words. You blink up at the ceiling above your head.

“What?” You ask, a bit bewildered.

“What?” He repeats. “Why are you sorry?”

You blink again. “Why are you sorry?”

He lets out a huff, one you can almost picture. “I fucked up.”

And this is how it goes. You’d thought of all people, Jack would have the decency to do this in person. To wait until you’re not seconds past waking up. That maybe he’d give you a bit to process before he called it quits, before he says what everyone else has said before him.

It’s too much.

You’d warned him, back when you’d seen him for the 7th time. You’d been laying in his bed, half on top of him, drawing patterns on his bare chest with your pointer finger. He’s asked about labels and how serious this was and if you were seeing anyone else, and told you he wasn’t. All very brave of him, really. You’d been afraid to say anything for weeks.

“Not seeing anyone else,” you’d admitted. “Where would I find the time?”

He’d huffed out a laugh and tucked you close. “Can we maybe keep it that way?”

It should’ve been a red flag. Not on his part, but on yours. You know how this ends, you’ve been down this road before, and you’d known, even then, that this wouldn’t end any differently. Things go smooth until the media catches wind, and then they figure out who he is, and then everyone picks apart every little bit of him until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto. You can’t blame them, all the people you’ve lost to this curse.

You hate the media enough yourself. You can’t imagine subjecting anyone you care about to it.

You’d tried to warn him. About the secrecy that would be required, about how if anyone ever caught wind of it, he’d be subject to the worst scrutiny of his life. He’d tried to insist he understood, that nothing could be worse than his rookie year, that this mattered enough to him to put up with the pressure. But now the pressure is drilling down on the two of you, and he’s crumbling, just like they always do-

“I knew better than to leave out that door,” he says. “There’s always a pap there, you’ve told me about it before,” he says. “I was just. I was in a rush, because I was so comfy this morning, and I forgot, so. I’m sorry.”

You frown. “It’s okay, Jack.”

You’re the one who told him about the key. Who let him stay over, fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to see him, even just for a little bit. You’ve gone and contributed to your own demise. God, you were going to let him pick you up from the airport. What kind of idiot are you?

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “They don’t even know it’s me.”

Your gut twists, again. “They will.”

“Mm, maybe my powers of camouflage have worked,” he says. “Maybe I’ve stumped them.”

You don’t bother pointing out that if the press haven’t already figured it out, his fans will. Someone’s bound to point out the grainy Devils logo on his hoodie, the characteristic swoop of his hair. Someone’s bound to have followed him to his car, and they’ve probably already looked up his license plate. They’re probably running it through whatever system they use, and even if Jack is leasing the car he’ll still show as connected to it, and then they’ll dig their claws into him.

“They’re never stumped,” you tell him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“I know,” he says, voice softer this time. “So. What do we do?”

You pry your eyes open. What do we do? We.

“We?” You choke out.

Jack scoffs. “Yeah, we. I mean. Do we come out and tell everyone, just to take it away from them? Do we lie?”

We. It’s never been a we, before. Not like this. It’s always been flight, never fight. Like everyone before Jack hadn’t thought it was worth it to even try. Had thought you weren’t worth it.

“Jack, you don’t understand,” you tell him. “They’re gonna tear you apart. They’re gonna tear us apart.” Until there’s no us left, you think. “We- we don’t do anything. There’s nothing to do.”

“Not to stop them, no,” he agrees. “But you’ve had this before. How did you and those people handle it? I mean- I can avoid interviews for a while. Nico will take them, he’ll understand. And the All Star break starts soon, so then-“

“They didn’t,” you cut in.

He pauses. “Who didn’t what?”

You sigh, again. “They didn’t handle it, Jack. They broke up with me and left me to handle it and kept going on with their lives. So. Nobody will blame you if you do the same, let alone me. I get it.”

Jack stays quiet for a few moments. The silence hangs between the two of you, heavy and thick. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say it. Because you always let them do it. No matter how much you’re to blame here, you can’t be the one to end it over this. Not when things were going so well with him.

“I’m coming over,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Just- stay put. Stay there. I’m on my way,” he says. You hear the jingle of his keys.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You tell him.

“Me neither,” he says.

You don’t bother to warn him that there’ll be added media attention, that the place is probably swarming with people with cameras. You don’t think it’ll change his mind- Jack is stubborn when he’s set on something. And it’s a little late, anyways.

He shows up an hour later, probably having had to fight through insane traffic to get there. You’re back in bed, having only gotten up to brush your teeth before retreating to the safety of it. He lets himself in with the key, and you hear him come up the stairs and shuffle over to your bedroom door.

He stands there, haloed by the hallway light. You roll over to look at him, barely able to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Maybe he’s just waited to do it in person. Maybe he’s trying to let you down easy. It’s never easy. To lose a relationship like this, before you’re ready.

Things were going so well. You think of nights spent in your kitchen, making dinner together, sharing a bottle of wine. You think of all the hockey games you watched from hotel rooms while you’ve been doing press, and the way Jack answered all your questions on the phone afterwards, never letting on how exhausted he really was. You think of breakfast delivered to your door while he was at away games, and the way he spoke so fondly about his family and friends, how they’d all love you and you’d love them. And now, you’ll never get the chance.

Jack, standing in the doorway, sighs.

He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches a hand out to rest against your cheek. You sigh in response. Wait for him to open his mouth, for it to hit. You wait, and wait, and-

“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options,” he says. You blink up at him. “We can just go public, take away the hype about it. We could pretend we have no idea what they’re talking about, just ignore it. We could wait for them figure it out and handle it then. Or-“

You sit up slightly, and he pauses. You know the confusion is written on your face. His gaze softens, blue eyes warmer than they’ve ever been.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says. “I don’t run when things get tough. Come on, you know me better than that.”

You want to tell him you’d thought that about everyone, only for them to run from it all, run from you, at the drop of a hat. But you don’t, because you can tell from the hard set line of his jaw, from the determined bend in his brow, that he means it. That he’s not going anywhere. At least, not without you.

“I wanna run away from it all,” you tell him. “I want to take you somewhere they can’t find us. I want-“ you cut yourself off with a wry laugh. “I just want you, that’s all.”

A smile creeps across his lips, and he leans forward to press them to your forehead. Warmth spreads over your body, all the way down to your fingertips and toes.

“We can make that happen,” he says. You can feel the smile against your skin. “If that’s what you want. I know a place.”

You let out a laugh, one that’s mixed with tears. But when he lays down in the bed and pulls you close, you’re inclined to believe him.

…..

The “place” Jack knows takes hours of travel to get to. It takes packed bags and ditching responsibilities on both of your parts, and dodging questions from your friends. But as he pulls the car into the driveway, you think it’s worth all the hassle. The house is blanketed in soft, fluffy snow, hanging off the branches of the trees and over the edges of the roof. He opens the garage and pulls in, and when the door closes behind you, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

When he’d suggested his Michigan house as the getaway location, you’d been skeptical. Anywhere that was linked to him would be a risk once they figured out who he was. But he’d told you about the security of the neighborhood, the gate at the entrance, and that they’d never been bothered there before. He’d suggested that the two of you could just stay in the house the whole time, and it wouldn’t matter. The press finding out about Jack is inevitable, at this point. But as you walk into his house, you remind yourself that they can’t touch you here. You’ve left them all chasing their tails in New York City and disappeared.

Besides, the snow is coming down harder now. Even the paparazzi wouldn’t brave the weather.

Jack insists on carrying your bags in, and then he shows you around. The living room is first, decorated with photos of him and his brothers. The house is full of hockey memorabilia, you realize, as he shows you around. But it’s also warm. Personal. Home. There’s a photo of him and his brothers as little kids hanging over a fireplace. It makes you smile, the way you recognize the light in Jack’s eyes, the determination on his face. He hasn’t changed a bit. You’ve been in his apartment in New Jersey, but you know now that this is what he considers his real home.

He takes you up to the bedroom before the rest of the house, so you can get settled. You change into even comfier clothes than your travel ones while Jack heads back downstairs and tells you to meet him when you’re ready.

You call out to him a few minutes later when you pad your way down the stairs, and he calls back from a room you haven’t been in yet. When you walk in, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, setting out a bottle of wine. There are fresh flowers in a vase- Jack had said he’d ordered groceries to be delivered, and he must’ve gotten those, too. It’s a sweet touch.

You walk into the middle of the room and look around, a bit in awe. It faces towards the lake, with a large sitting area connected to the open concept kitchen. The lights are low and warm. Along the back wall, there are floor to ceiling picture windows, giving you the perfect view of the icy lake, the snow covered sloping bank, and the houses that dot the shore all around you. Like a postcard, or a hallmark movie. Jack pads his way across the room to you.

“Oh, wow,” you say, quietly.

He nods, his hands falling to your hips from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Pretty, right?”

You nod. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Still. Quiet. A billion other words pass through your mind. But most of all, it feels safe. Like the whole world could be chasing after you, but here, it’s just you and Jack and the snow. You could run out into it, fall flat on your face, and there’d be nobody there to see it. Or to care.

“Can we go out in it?” You ask him, carefully. Not wanting to break the calm. “It looks so-“

“Yeah,” he agrees, eagerly. “I think we’ve got a pair of boots that’ll fit you.”

Ten minutes later, you waddle through snowdrifts that cover your calves in boots one size too big. You can’t bring yourself to care about the snow in your socks, or the notifications on your phone, or the fact that by now, they’ve probably figured out who Jack is. Because Jack is standing in front of you, and you know who he is far more than they ever will.

He’s the kind of person who stays.

He lobs a snowball at you. It hits your shoulder and crumbles, and he laughs. Pure, loud, happy. You reach down with your mismatched mittens, stolen from their bin of miscellaneous outdoor gear, and form one of your own. You look at him, lining up your aim. Look at his flushed cheeks, his wide grin, the way the snow sticks to his hair and melts on his nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, taunting, arms spread wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”

You drop the poorly formed snowball at your feet and launch yourself at him instead. He’s laughing again by the time you both hit the ground, the snow cushioning his fall. He laughs more when he rolls you over and pins you under him. There’s snow seeping down the back of your shirt, and it makes you shiver. And then he kisses you, and the cold doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does, except this.

He’s never kissed you anywhere close to the public, both of you too cautious. So much of your relationship has been hidden away. You’d never had a chance like this in New York- no kissing in the rain, under streetlights, no cheek kisses between glasses of wine at fancy restaurants, no holding hands while you walk down the street. But now you’re out under the cloudy sky, surrounded by peace and quiet, and he’s kissing you. You never want to leave this place.

You shiver, again, and he laughs into the kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You think yours are too.

“Come on,” he says. “We should get you warm before you catch hypothermia.”

He suggests a shower. You agree eagerly and pull him under the spray with you. The cold melts away, along with the rest of your worries.

Later, you’ll drink wine and make dinner and watch some old movie he’s been insisting you need to see. Later, you'll curl up basically on top of him in bed, surrounded by him, feeling more at peace than you have in months. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up before you do, and come back with coffee from his favorite place in town, and wake you up in bed with it, made just the way you like. And you’ll look at him and thank him. Not just for the coffee, but for bringing you to a place that means so much to him. For letting you in on his little bit of comfort.

You won’t have to say it out loud. He’ll already know.

[simplyghosting]

Absolutely hate that I have a general fear of bugs when I know for a fact I used to sit with the cellar spiders as a child and hold damselflies.

[leighsartworks216]

Ominiscience

Sylus x gn!Reader

I just love when Sylus gets to protect MC from others

Warnings: unwanted advances, alcohol mention, protective Sylus, Mephisto keeping an eye on you, pet names, swearing, established relationship

Word Count: 1,009

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Wish you could’ve come with me. It’s boring here without you :(

You sigh as you send the text, leg bouncing as you thank the bartender for your drink. There’s no alcoholic sting when you take a sip, but you don’t expect there to be. You do have to drive back home, after all. Or maybe you’d risk the drive to the N109 Zone, just to see Sylus.

Tara invited you out to a bar to celebrate a mission success. And despite helping you in that success, you didn’t want to risk the leader of Onychinus being in Linkon around other Hunters. But you also didn’t want to disappoint Tara, especially when you’d been spending so much time in the N109 Zone when you aren’t working. You didn’t want her to think you didn’t enjoy her company or value her friendship.

Except, she got swept up by a cute guy five minutes after sitting down. They smiled together and laughed as they danced to the music, holding hands and swaying close like they’d known each other for years. And you were left at the bar to nurse virgin mocktails and cling to every message he sends you.

Awe, poor kitten. Shall I send Mephisto to keep you company?

You can’t help grinning.

For company, or for target practice?

“Hey, gorgeous.” You startle and turn toward the voice. A man gestures to the stool beside you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. He looked completely normal, even a little handsome, but something about the way his eyes looked at you had your senses on high alert. “This seat taken?”

You glance down the row of seats. There are quite a few open, further away and a safe distance from you. “No, but neither are any of those.”

He laughs at your comment and sits down, leaning his elbow on the counter and barely glancing at the bartender when he orders. You shift your drink closer.

“I like a seat with a view.”

Your phone buzzes again. You start to pick it up so you can answer the new message, hoping your clear lack of interest will get this stranger to leave you alone, but another hand grabs it and slams it back onto the bar, trapping your hand with it. His grip is relentless, squeezing your fingers together uncomfortably as he leans closer. You smell the alcohol from his drink on his breath.

“It’s rude to ignore someone, sweetheart,” he chastises. “What’s the matter, you got a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “I don’t believe you.”

Your phone begins ringing, vibrating against your crushed hand while it plays a silly tune, one you’d picked out just to annoy Sylus. The man snickers. “What kind of ringtone is that? Is your friend calling? She must be cute, too, huh?”

“You can answer it if you want,” you say, taking on an air of confidence. “Maybe she’ll think you sound pretty cute, too.”

He grins, eyes studying your hand beneath his as he considers the offer. Your heart is leaden in your chest. If he doesn’t answer and Sylus doesn’t threaten him into the next lifetime, you don’t know what else to do. The bartender’s back is to you as he talks with another customer, and Tara is probably too engrossed in her new admirer to notice your struggle.

“Alright,” he finally agrees. You try not to breathe a sigh of relief just yet as he releases you and you hand over the device. The idiot doesn’t even bother checking the call photo background, a stolen snapshot of Sylus with snow in his hair and fireworks lighting up his face. He just accepts and brings it right up to his ear, smiling at you confidently. “Hey, cutie.”

You bite your lip to fight a growing laugh from bubbling up as you watch in real time as his face changes through several different emotions.

At first, he’s just confused when a man’s voice answers the call. Then pissed. He’s glaring at you when he starts to hang up, but stops and listens again. The anger flickers into worry for a second. A split second. Enough time for his mind to try to rationalize that the words, the threats, coming in from the receiver aren’t real and can’t possibly happen to him. And then it settles. Color drains from his face. His eyes are wide, glancing from you to the people around him helplessly, clutching the phone with both hands. You can’t hear Sylus’s voice, but you wonder if he’s using Mephisto to relay the man’s movements.

It’s only been a couple minutes when the man slowly pulls the phone from his ear and holds it out to you, cradling it in both hands like a highly reactive bomb. He stammers until he finally whimpers out, “It’s- It’s for you. S-Sorry.”

You take the phone and he trips over himself trying to get away, frantically searching the crowd for the mysterious stranger that threatened his life seconds ago.

You hold it up to your ear. “Thank you for that.” You take a relaxed sip of your drink.

Sylus chuckles. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Mhm.” You glance over your shoulder. “Where’s Mephisto hiding?”

“Outside. Up a little, look to your right… There you are, sweetie,” he purrs. Mephisto’s red eyes shine like rubies through the glass of a high-set window. You can’t see his body, only the movement of his eyes as he jerks his head around. “As I was saying, have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Name anything you want. The chef will have it ready by the time you get here.”

You turn away and smile, trying to hide just how dopey it looks from him. “Do you have any work to do tonight?”

From the smile in his own voice, you’re sure he saw it anyway. “Just say the word and my schedule is cleared.”

“Which word?”

There’s an anticipatory pause. You can imagine the feel of his breath on your ear as he whispers into the microphone. “Please.”

[kayewrite]

At the same time, I wanna hug you

(...I wanna wrap my hands around your neck)

seungmin x reader!! enemies to lovers troupe!! genre; fluff. word count: 10.7k (long but still not enough)

summary; if you have teleportation powers you would bring seungmin in the middle of ocean and dump him there. that's how much you hated him. but wait.. why he was suddenly cool?

an: you dont know how much i went crazy seeing seungmin in uniform! like babe! why are my classmate not like him? and.. this was a birthday present cause this man just turn half 50 minus 1!! anyways enjoy reading

Kim Seungmin.

You hated that very name.

You hated his existence.

You hated his smirk.

You hated that he breathes.

You hated how he never failed to make your blood boil.

Like now.

You were practically crawling into the classroom, late again, knowing full well the teacher wasn’t going to let it slide this time. Slowly and quietly, you slipped through the back door, hoping to go unnoticed, but your hopes were dashed when Kim Seungmin turned in his seat and caught your eye. His face slowly morphed into that all-too-familiar smirk.

You already knew your fate.

"Ma'am, someone’s late again."

You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to punch him as the teacher ordered you to stand and endure a scolding. You stood there, bowing your head like a guilty child while Seungmin chuckled at your misery.

You hated him. You hated him so much you wished for teleportation powers—just so you could dump him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and teleport back home.

The worst part? You were seatmates. In the one subject that made you contemplate dropping the class every week just to escape him. But no, you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You’d endure, just so he wouldn’t win.

"Why were you late again?" he leaned over, asking in the most casual, condescending way possible.

“None of your business,” you rolled your eyes and shifted your chair further away from him.

“Actually, it is my business.” He smirked again, lifting the attendance sheet. “I’m in charge of marking who’s here today, and guess what? I don’t see your name yet. Got a good excuse for me?”

Damn.

You glared at him, wishing your stare could send him straight to the hospital. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I love you too,” he teased, laughing at your frustration.

--

You were minding your own business, erasing the board, when out of nowhere, a crumpled piece of paper hit you square on the head. Annoyed, you turned sharply, searching for the culprit. Your eyes quickly landed on Kim Seungmin, who very obviously averted his gaze and started whistling—like that wasn’t the biggest giveaway ever.

Glaring at him, you felt your temper rise. Without thinking twice, you grabbed the nearest weapon of choice—the chalkboard eraser—and hurled it with full force.

"Hey—!" Seungmin barely had time to react, his hands flying up to shield himself. The eraser still hit him, sending a cloud of chalk dust everywhere.

Minutes later, there he was, sitting in the clinic, sulking like he’d been gravely injured. You stood over him, arms crossed, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous situation.

“You’re such a kid,” you teased, watching as he winced dramatically. “Crying over a tiny little scratch.”

He glared at you, clutching his arm like he’d survived a battle. “Tiny? You nearly broke my arm!”

You smirked, “If I wanted to break your arm, Seungmin, I wouldn’t have used an eraser.”

You and Seungmin fought like kids, constantly bickering and annoying each other to the point where even your classmates didn’t bother stepping in anymore. They’d seen you two nearly throw punches at each other too many times to care.

One day in the cafeteria, you were finally enjoying a moment of peace, savoring your lunch, when Seungmin suddenly plopped down in front of you. He smiled, but there was something odd about it. Well, Seungmin was always odd, but this felt extra weird. He wasn’t even touching his food; he just sat there, staring at you.

"What are you looking at, ugly?" you asked, scowling.

He leaned back casually. "My friends are coming, and we're sitting at this table. It’s up to you if you wanna leave or not."

You blinked, taken aback. "What?! I got here first!"

"Yeah, well," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I don’t care."

Before you could argue further, the cafeteria exploded with noise. His friends had arrived—there was no mistaking it. They were loud, famous, and had an almost cult-like following at school. You could practically hear the high-pitched squeals from the “fandom” as they entered. Without even turning around, you knew it was them.

Your frustration mounted as they surrounded the table, chattering loudly. You weren’t exactly fond of crowds, for that matter. Sitting there, sandwiched between Seungmin and his friends, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

Hyunjin—yes, that Hyunjin—suddenly leaned over, flashing a bright smile. "Hey, what’s your name?"

You nearly choked on your food. Of course, the universe had to pick this moment to be cruel. Before you could respond, Seungmin cut in with a smug grin.

"She’s no one. Don’t mind her," he said, not even sparing you a glance.

Your face flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. You stood up abruptly, knocking over your chair. "I’ve suddenly lost my appetite," you muttered awkwardly before storming off, desperately trying to escape the humiliation.

Why does this always happen to me? you groaned internally. I hate Seungmin. And I hate myself for embarrassing myself in front of my crush… Hyunjin.

If I see that KIM SEUNGMIN later, I’m going to kill him.

Later in class, your chance for revenge came. Seungmin was called on for an oral recitation, and—poetic justice—he stood there, stuttering and completely clueless. You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath as he floundered, finally getting a taste of the embarrassment he loved dishing out.

Justice had never tasted so sweet.

---

"I hope lightning strikes him," you muttered, glaring at Seungmin from a distance as you hugged yourself, shivering from the cold. You were stuck in a waiting shed, the afternoon bringing with it a torrential downpour that looked like the start of a typhoon. The weather had been perfect this morning—sunny, with not a cloud in sight. You'd made the mistake of leaving your umbrella at home, thinking it would only weigh down your bag. Now, you regretted every bit of that decision.

Across the street, Seungmin stood dry under his big, obnoxiously bright umbrella, almost laughing as he caught sight of you. His smug grin was practically glowing, and as if to rub salt in the wound, he waved at you.

You flipped him the finger.

‘When will his time come?’ you wondered bitterly. Why am I always the one who ends up miserable?

The shed's roof was doing a terrible job of keeping the rain out. Water dripped from all angles, splashing around you and soaking your clothes. You glanced up at the leaky ceiling and groaned. When will this stop? you thought—both about the rain and Seungmin.

If the two of you were friends, and if he weren’t the spawn of Lucifer himself, you might’ve swallowed your pride and asked to share his umbrella. Your house was literally just a block away. But no! You would not—under any circumstances—lower yourself to envy his dry, smug self.

You would never give him the satisfaction. Even if it meant sitting here the whole night, soaked and miserable.

Seungmin started walking toward you, his big umbrella swaying with each step. He stopped in front of you with the most annoyingly sarcastic smile.

"You wanna share?" he asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. "No thanks."

"You sure? The news said the rain’s stopping… tomorrow."

"Even if it never stops for a whole week, Kim Seungmin, I would never!" you snapped, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your misery. "You sure? Last chance."

"Yes!" you practically shouted, arms crossed in defiance.

"Okay." He shrugged, stepping back. "One word is enough for me."

And with that, he turned on his heel and continued on his way, leaving you alone in the rain.

"I won’t regret it!" you yelled after him, though your voice sounded far less confident than before.

Ten minutes later, you were drenched and shivering, cursing under your breath. Regret started to creep in. You glanced down the road—completely empty. Not a single taxi in sight.

"Where are all the taxis when I need them?" you groaned, looking up at the dark, stormy sky.

And so, your day ended just as it began: with Seungmin somehow managing to ruin it.

--

It was Friday, and your first class of the day happened to be the one where your seatmate was none other than him.

Determined not to be late, you arrived twenty minutes early. The classroom was nearly empty, with only a handful of students scattered around. Feeling groggy, you slumped over your desk, letting the quiet atmosphere lull you into a light nap.

Of course, peace never lasted long when Seungmin was involved.

A sharp knock on your desk pulled you from the brink of sleep. You cracked one eye open to see Seungmin settling into the seat beside you, a smug grin already plastered on his face.

"Oh, you’re early today. Were you looking forward to sitting next to me?" he teased, leaning back comfortably as if he hadn't just ruined your peaceful moment.

"It’s still early, Kim Seungmin," you muttered, closing your eyes again. Not today, you thought. You weren’t going to let him ruin your morning. Not this early.

He glanced at his watch with a chuckle. "Well, it’s 10 a.m., and that’s not exactly early, is it?"

"Seungmin, if you’re bored and looking to annoy someone, talk to my hand." Without even opening your eyes, you lazily raised your hand in his direction, palm out.

Just then, Yuna, who sat in front of you, arrived. She took one look at the two of you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Why are you guys always fighting the moment you see each other?"

You opened one eye, giving her a pleading look. "Can you please let him annoy you instead?"

Yuna just laughed. "Oh, Seungmin wouldn’t annoy anyone else but you." She gave you a knowing smile. "He likes you."

Your eyes shot open at her words, and you squinted at Seungmin, who was now smirking as if he knew exactly how to get under your skin. "Yeah, likes to annoy me," you huffed, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

Seungmin shrugged, leaning in a little closer just to provoke you. "Well, yeah, I like it sooo much," he laughed, clearly amused by your reaction.

Yuna, now used to your bickering, just shrugged and turned her attention to the front of the classroom, leaving you to deal with him.

You let out a sigh, hoping that Seungmin would leave you alone for at least a minute. "Is there any chance you’ll be quiet today?"

He pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm, nope."

You groaned, dropping your head back onto your desk. "Why do you even sit next to me?"

"Fate," he said casually, glancing over as if he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

You shot him a disbelieving look. "What?"

"It’s fate," he repeated with a smirk. "Out of all the seats in this entire classroom, I ended up next to you. Don’t you think that means something?"

"Yeah, it means I’m cursed."

He laughed, the sound annoyingly cheerful, and leaned in closer. "Maybe, or maybe you’re just lucky to have me next to you."

"Lucky isn’t the word I’d use."

Before he could respond, the classroom started filling up, and the teacher finally arrived. You sent a silent prayer of thanks, hoping class would be a break from Seungmin’s endless teasing.

“…you will do this assignment by pairs. To speed things up, partner with your seatmate.”

It was nothing new to be stuck with your enemy, but when you realized that the activity involved a short roleplay drama, you felt a surge of panic. Acting alongside him was nowhere on your bucket list of things to do—if you even had a bucket list.

“Maam, can I exchange my partner?” you raised your hand, desperation evident in your voice.

“Ouch, you hurt my feelings!” Seungmin clutched his chest dramatically, feigning offense.

“What’s wrong with your partner?” the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sometimes you wondered why everyone seemed to love this annoying dog sitting next to you.

With no choice left, you begrudgingly held the script with a scowl. When would you ever have a peaceful day in class? Why did you have to pretend to be in love with this guy?

“Come on, read your line!” Seungmin demanded, his annoyance bubbling over.

Of all the choices in your teacher's fishbowl, you’d drawn the romantic scene everyone praying not to get. You would have preferred a horror script over this.

“I don’t want to!” you protested, crossing your arms defiantly.

“Well, you have to! It’s your fault for picking it!” he shot back, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I told you to pick it!” you replied, frustration mounting.

“And then I’d be the one to blame? We don’t have a choice but to do well.” He leaned back, crossing his arms smugly.

“Ugh! I hate you so much!” you exclaimed, slumping back in your seat.

“Well, you have to love me now.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying your misery.

“What did I do in my past life to deserve this?” You groaned, reading the lines again.

“Probably killed someone,” he quipped, shooting you a knowing look.

You glared at him, and he immediately raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing.

“Oh, apologies. Let’s practice! You don’t have a choice; it’s either fail or just accept it.”

“I hate you.”

“I accept it, Juliet.” He grinned, clearly relishing your frustration.

Thankfully, the teacher had given you a week to prepare, which meant you never took practicing seriously after that.

“We’ll practice tomorrow,” Seungmin stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I have something to do tomorrow,” you said nonchalantly, hoping to deter him.

“I have things too, but I want good grades, so you have to come.” He started packing his things away.

“Hey, Seungmin!” You both turned at the sound of his friend’s voice. It was Hyunjin, accompanied by Felix and Jisung. You straightened up, suddenly conscious of your appearance.

“Let’s go somewhere!” Jisung draped an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders.

“I have important things to do,” Seungmin replied, and Jisung pouted in response.

“Oh, it was you in the cafeteria the other day,” Hyunjin said, looking right at you. It took you a moment to process that he was talking to you.

“Um…” Your voice faltered. “Yes?”

Hyunjin smiled at you, and you felt your heart race.

“Guys, wait for me outside. You just sneaked into my classroom,” Seungmin laughed, and his friends complied, heading for the door.

You were still catching your breath from the interaction when Seungmin turned back, grinning at you. “So, Hyunjin is your crush?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Oh no! Seungmin had caught on!

“Of course, I’m not!” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Why are you saying ‘I’m not’ in such an awkward way?” He laughed, clearly enjoying this new revelation. “Then it is true!”

“Please don’t tell him!” You pleaded, realizing you were losing this battle.

“Of course I won’t…” He smiled coyly, “…I won’t do what you ask.” Then, with a laugh, he tossed his bag over his shoulder and dashed out the door.

“Oh, damn…” You froze in your seat, panic setting in.

“See you at practice tomorrow!” Seungmin waved annoyingly from the doorway, clearly aware that you had no choice but to comply.

As the door swung shut behind him, you sank back into your chair, contemplating your fate. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare.

--

You arrived at his house and rang the doorbell repeatedly, knowing he would probably just hear it and take his sweet time.

“You’re late,” he said with a smug smile when he finally opened the gate.

“I’m not,” you insisted, holding your wrist up to show him your watch, the sleek silver face gleaming in the sunlight.

“You’re late by 58 seconds,” he replied, crossing his arms as if he were judging your punctuality.

“What?! It’s not my fault you opened your gate late!” You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

He chuckled at your annoyed expression, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Come in.”

“Not like I have a choice,” you muttered, stepping inside.

It was your first time in his house, and you weren’t surprised by how nice it was. The exterior was already immaculate, and the inside was just as polished—walls adorned with family photos and art that hinted at a cozy atmosphere. But you would never admit that to him.

“My parents aren’t home; they have work,” he said, glancing around the living room as if to check for any potential chaos.

“No one asked,” you shot back, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“Just wanted to let you know in case you try to kill me; there’s a CCTV camera around,” he said, half-serious.

“Oh, great. Just what I need,” you replied dryly, shaking your head.

He headed to the kitchen, presumably to get something to drink, giving you a moment to explore. You took the chance to glance at the pictures displayed throughout the room. One photo caught your eye—him as a child, beaming with joy as he played in a park.

When he returned, you pointed to the picture near the TV. “Is that you?”

“Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes, his tone laced with playful sarcasm.

You squinted at the picture, then turned to him, suddenly serious. “I mean… will there ever be a time for us to stop bickering, even just for a bit? I'm trying to start a normal conversation here”

“Will there be?” he countered, sitting beside you with a teasing grin, his body relaxed as he leaned back.

“Yeah, right. Never,” you replied, smirking despite yourself.

He handed you the printed script he’d prepared, the edges slightly crinkled. “Why are we putting so much effort into this? It’s just reading the script, not really acting it out.”

“Because I have a goal grade, unlike you,” he said matter-of-factly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Have you forgotten I’m an achiever too?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.

When would this bickering ever end?

“Hyunjin is coming,” he announced suddenly, the air in the room shifting.

“No one asked--” You paused, then asked, “Wait what?!”

“So you should behave if you don’t want to scare him off,” he added, the grin still plastered on his face.

“Seungmin, why would you do that?!” You lightly slapped him on the shoulder, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“Because… I can?” He laughed, shielding himself playfully. “I mean, what’s wrong with inviting a friend? He's good at acting he can help”

“I hate you so much,” you groaned, exasperation creeping into your tone.

Hyunjin had been your crush for as long as you could remember, and the thought of him being in the same space as you made your stomach flutter with nerves. He was perfect in every way—charismatic, charming, and completely out of your league.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Seungmin teased, leaning closer with that infuriating grin. “Oh, I forgot—you like him, right?”

You responded by giving him another light shove, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. It was always like this between you two—endless banter, lighthearted teasing, but the presence of Hyunjin added a layer of awkwardness you couldn’t quite shake.

You both settled onto the couch, the printed script between you. Seungmin glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Okay, let’s get this over with. You read Juliet’s lines, and I’ll read Romeo’s,” he said, smirking.

“Fine, but don’t mess it up,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

You started reading through the script, your voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. “O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes dramatically. “Wow, so poetic. Just make sure you don’t faint from all that romance.”

You shot him a glare. “Shut up, Romeo.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. Your heart raced. Hyunjin was here.

“See? You should behave,” Seungmin teased, nudging your shoulder.

You threw him a playful glare, then he rushed to open the door. There stood Hyunjin, looking effortlessly cool, his smile warm as he greeted you both. “Hey! Ready to practice?”

“Uh, yeah! Come in!” you said, trying to keep your cool but feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

Seungmin sauntered over, clearly relishing the moment. “Hyunjin! Glad you could join us! We were just getting to the juicy parts.”

You shot him a warning look, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass you. Hyunjin, however, seemed unfazed. “Nice! I can help you both with the romantic scenes if you want.”

You nodded eagerly. “That would be great! I need help with… you know, acting like I’m in love.” You winced at how obvious that sounded.

Hyunjin grinned, moving to sit across from you. “Alright, let’s try a scene. Here’s the famous balcony part. Juliet says, ‘O, for a falconer’s voice to lure this tassel-gentle back again.’”

You felt your heart flutter. “I’ll try,” you said, taking a deep breath. “O, for a falconer’s voice to lure this tassel-gentle back again!”

Hyunjin smiled, then gestured for you to continue. “And then Romeo responds with, ‘I would not for the world they saw thee here.’”

Seungmin picked up the line, and you both began to read, the atmosphere shifting as you focused on the scene. You felt a playful energy in the air, the tension of performing lifting your spirits.

“‘I would not for the world they saw thee here,’” Seungmin said, his voice low and earnest.

You replied, “Then there’s no need to be ashamed,” trying to put as much emotion into it as possible.

Hyunjin clapped after your line. “That was great! You both looked really good together!”

You and Seungmin exchanged a quick look. “No!” you both said in unison.

Hyunjin chuckled, clearly entertained by your synchronized denial. “Really, it’s just acting! But seriously, you guys have good chemistry.”

“Thanks!” you said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride.

“Alright, let’s keep practicing!” Hyunjin suggested, eager to dive back into the script.

You focused on the lines, the playful banter keeping the atmosphere light. As you practiced, you couldn’t help but enjoy the moment, the camaraderie making the task feel less like a chore and more like fun.

With Hyunjin guiding you, you felt more confident as you delivered your lines, ready to tackle the performance together.

--

The days passed in a blur as you and Seungmin practiced again at his house. You settled into a routine, the playful banter punctuating your rehearsals, and surprisingly, you started to enjoy the time spent together.

Finally, the day of the presentation arrived. As you stood in front of the class, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. When it was your turn to deliver your lines, you poured your heart into the performance, channeling every emotion.

To your surprise, Yuna leaned over after the presentation and whispered, “It wasn’t like you were entering each other’s nerves at all!” Her compliment made you beam with pride.

Seungmin, too, impressed you with his serious demeanor. For once, he seemed genuinely focused, and seeing him so dedicated made you realize how much he cared about doing well. You couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for both of you.

After the applause died down, your teacher announced, “I’m pleased to inform you all that I have chosen actors for the upcoming school play, and I choose…” She paused dramatically, glancing between you and Seungmin, “…you two!”

A wave of excitement surged through you, quickly followed by a burst of playful competitiveness. “See? You should thank me for picking a role that suits us both,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I’m grateful, alright. I forgot for a moment how you despise your pick. In fact, I’m so happy I’m going to treat you to cake and coffee.”

“Yes!” you replied enthusiastically, unable to hide your grin. “I deserve a treat after all that hard work!”

“Sure, but only because I can’t let my scene partner go hungry,” he said, winking.

As you both headed out, the bickering continued, light-hearted and familiar, but beneath it was a shared joy that made the moment all the more special. You couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this experience was bringing you closer, even if you would never admit it.

At the café, the atmosphere buzzed with chatter and the rich aroma of coffee. You and Seungmin settled into a cozy corner, the tension from earlier melted away as you both began to chat more easily.

“So, do you actually love acting?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Absolutely!” you replied, a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve always idolized Emma Watson. I mean, come on, I look just like her!” You struck a dramatic pose, fluttering your eyelashes.

Seungmin looked at you, clearly unconvinced, with a “Are you kidding me?” expression. You burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the café.

“Okay, maybe not exactly like her,” you admitted, trying to catch your breath. “But a girl can dream, right?”

“Sure, if dreaming means torturing the rest of us,” he shot back with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I’m planning to major in acting when I get to college. It’s my dream!”

“Nice! I like acting too, but I’m thinking about majoring in music,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Wait, you? You know how to sing?” You raised an eyebrow, unable to hide your skepticism.

“Wanna hear?” he challenged, a playful glint in his eye.

“Please no!” you teased, dramatically placing your hand on your heart. “I’d rather sleep forever than listen to your singing.”

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head. “You’re so mean! I think it would be the opposite”

“Mean? I’m just saving you from embarrassment,” you shot back with a grin. “You should thank me!”

"you'll regret what you're saying when I become famous."

As you exchanged playful banter, you realized that this was your way of connecting. The teasing and light insults had become second nature, and somehow, the hurtful words didn’t sting anymore. Instead, they felt like an essential part of your friendship, a comfortable rhythm that made you both laugh.

“Seriously though,” you said, softening a bit, “I think it’s awesome that you’re into music. We’ll be the dynamic duo of arts!”

“Absolutely! Just don’t expect me to duet with you anytime soon,” he joked, raising his cup in a mock toast.

“Deal!” you laughed, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

--

As the practice for the play approached, your schedule became packed, leaving little time for anything else. Excitement bubbled inside you, especially since Hyunjin, a year ahead of you, was also in the cast. You could hardly wait for the next rehearsal.

One day, while waiting for practice to start, you found yourself lost in thought, staring at Hyunjin as he chatted with some friends. Seungmin, ever the observant one, caught you in the act.

“You look like a lovesick puppy,” he teased, a playful grin stretching across his face.

You quickly snapped out of your daydream, narrowing your eyes at him. “Shut up! I’m not!” You playfully punched his arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point.

“Uh-huh, sure,” he laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“You’re just jealous that I’m not staring at you like that!”

As partners playing lovers in the play, you often imagined being paired with Hyunjin. But the teacher had chosen Seungmin, and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you expected. You’d gotten used to the banter, and the awkwardness faded as practice continued.

Days passed, filled with rehearsals that drew you closer to Seungmin. The bickering remained, a constant source of amusement.

During one practice, while the two of you were warming up, Seungmin leaned over to Hyunjin, a mischievous smile on his face. “Hyunjin, have you already eaten? This monkey here asks,” he said, pointing at you as if you were some sort of pet.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “I am! Thank you for asking!” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, and she also said you were handsome,” Seungmin added, clearly enjoying the moment.

You felt your cheeks flush, and in a mock fit of outrage, you dashed toward him. “Seungmin!” you yelled, but he was quicker. He took off running, his laughter echoing through the practice room.

When you finally caught up to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a playful hug, making him squirm. “You’re such a tormentor!” you laughed, shaking him lightly.

From across the room, Hyunjin watched the whole scene unfold, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure they hate each other?” asked the director, who was shaking his head in disbelief.

Hyunjin just nodded, clearly entertained. “Definitely yes!” he replied, chuckling at your playful dynamic.

As you and Seungmin continued to tease each other, you realized that despite the playful bickering, there was an undeniable comfort between you—something that made every rehearsal just a little bit brighter.

---

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, and there you were, standing under a shed, glaring at the gray sky as if it were personally responsible for your soaked shoes. You had forgotten your umbrella—again.

As you waited, shivering slightly from the cold, you spotted Seungmin in the distance, standing confidently under a bright yellow umbrella. He was teasingly waving it over his head, a smirk plastered on his face as he called out, “Looks like someone forgot their umbrella again!”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a finger. “Very funny, Seungmin!”

He sauntered over, his grin widening with each step. "You wanna share?"

You rolled your eyes. "No thanks." you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.

“Okay, then. One word is enough for me.” He turned to leave, an exaggerated pout on his lips.

You hesitated for a moment, watching him walk away. “Wait!” you called out, and he turned back, an annoying smile in his lips. “Fine! We can share!”

Seungmin’s face broke into a triumphant grin as he rushed back to your side, positioning the umbrella over both of you. As you walked together, the atmosphere shifted from frustration to lightheartedness, laughter spilling out between the two of you.

“My shoulder is now wet,” Seungmin complained, feigning annoyance as he brushed water off his shirt.

“Is it my fault that you work out so much? Your shoulders are just too broad!” you shot back, unable to suppress a grin.

“Did you just compliment me?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Ugh, it wasn’t a compliment!” you retorted, trying to keep a straight face.

“Then I’ll just have to embrace this wetness!” he said cheerfully, adjusting the umbrella with exaggerated flair. Before you knew it, he leaned closer, and water dripped off his shoulder, splashing onto you.

You burst into laughter, shoving him playfully. “You idiot!”

Seungmin laughed too, chasing after you as you dashed away, your heart racing with excitement. The rain seemed to fade into the background, the only sound being your giggles and the splatter of water against the pavement.

“You’re going to pay for that!” he yelled, laughter echoing through the downpour.

Just as you turned to look back, he splashed a wave of water right at you, soaking you completely. You retaliated, grabbing a handful of rainwater and splashing it back at him.

The playful battle raged on, and soon both of you were drenched, shivering yet exhilarated.

---

It was two weeks before the big play, and you were laser-focused on perfecting every detail. The pressure was on, and you found yourself spending more time practicing than ever. You wanted everything to be perfect, especially with the role you were playing. Seungmin, of course, was your partner in most scenes, so you had to rehearse together.

But as you delivered your lines, standing face-to-face with Seungmin, it became harder and harder to stay serious. Seungmin kept pulling funny faces behind his lines, causing you to break character and burst into laughter.

“Direct, please, punch him or something!” you whined dramatically, throwing your hands up. “He won’t stop!”

The director, seeing your exaggerated reaction, just chuckled. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast erupted in laughter.

"I’m serious now! I promise!" Seungmin said, shrugging off his antics.

You tried to continue, but the minute you looked at his serious face, you couldn’t hold back your laughter again. His deadpan expression was just too much.

“Okay, okay,” you said, wiping away a tear from laughing too hard. “Let’s take five. I need to compose myself.”

You sat down in the corner, still laughing. Seungmin joined you, shaking his head with a grin.

“Why are you always like this?” you asked, playfully slapping his arm. “We’re supposed to be professional!”

“Hey! I’m doing great! You’re the one laughing!” he protested with a smirk.

You couldn't deny it—something had shifted between you and Seungmin lately. There was this playful, easygoing dynamic now, and to your surprise, you liked it. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but the tension between the two of you had somehow dissolved, leaving behind a strange sort of camaraderie. And it felt... right.

---

Late again. You were quietly crawling your way toward your seat, praying that Seungmin wouldn’t notice. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be too preoccupied to see you sneaking in. But no such luck. Just as you thought you were in the clear, you saw Seungmin glancing in your direction, that infamous smirk already forming on his face. You knew that look all too well—he was up to something.

Desperate, you shot him a pleading look, mouthing a dramatic “Nooo,” and shaking your head in an exaggerated fashion. But the smirk only widened as he raised his hand.

“Ma'am!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the inevitable scolding. This is it, you thought. I’m done.

But instead, Seungmin’s voice rang out casually, “I forgot to give you the assignments I collected from the class.”

Your eyes flew open in shock. What?

“Oh right! Thank you, Seungmin, for the reminder.” The teacher smiled at him, clearly appreciating the help.

Seungmin stood up, cool as ever, handing over the pile of papers. He sat back down, a faint smirk still on his lips as if nothing unusual had happened.

You slid into your seat cautiously, your heart still racing. You glanced over at Seungmin, who met your gaze with a quick wink before turning back to his notebook. That was... new, you thought, utterly confused.

--

Practice resumed as usual, and you started to get into the flow of things. You liked rehearsing for the play more than you thought you would, especially with the creative freedom you were given. The only downside? Seungmin never missed an opportunity to get under your skin.

As you entered the practice room, sporting your freshly cut hair, Seungmin immediately took notice.

He eyed you up and down, a teasing grin already forming on his lips. “You know,” he began, casually leaning back in his chair, “short hair doesn’t really suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. “What are you talking about? I look pretty in it,” you shot back confidently, placing your hands on your hips.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, the playful grin still firmly in place. “Pretty? More like you look like a monkey who tried to give itself a haircut.”

“Excuse me?” You gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “I do not look like a monkey.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Seungmin shrugged, clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. He leaned closer, dropping his voice dramatically. “But just so you know, if we ever put you in a zoo, you’d fit right in.”

You gasped again, this time more dramatically, then pointed at him with a mock serious expression. “You’re just jealous because I’m out here looking cute and you can’t handle it.”

“Cute?” Seungmin laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Whatever, I know the truth. You’re just afraid to admit that I’m rocking this look,” you teased back, refusing to back down.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming, monkey,” he said, chuckling softly as you narrowed your eyes at him.

--

Another day in class, you were erasing the board when something hit the back of your head. Startled, you spun around, spotting Seungmin sitting there, whistling innocently. It was the most obvious thing ever—he didn’t even try to hide it.

You glared at him, trying to keep your cool. ‘Let it go��, you thought. ‘Don’t give him the satisfaction’. But then, another paper ball hit you.

"Seriously?" you muttered under your breath, turning to give him a sharp look.

This time, Seungmin didn’t bother pretending. He smiled and pointed to the paper ball on the floor. “Read it,” he said, nodding toward the crumpled note.

You raised your hand, ready to throw the eraser at him with full force.

“Wait!” Seungmin said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “Just read it, will you?”

With a dramatic sigh, you picked up the paper, unfolding it. Written in his messy handwriting were the words: “Let’s eat. My treat.”

Before you could react, Jisung, who had been quietly observing the whole scene, burst into laughter. “What kind of lame drama am I witnessing?” he cackled.

You whipped around and threw the eraser at him instead, hitting him square in the shoulder. “Mind your own business, Jisung!”

“Hey! I’m just saying!” Jisung grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Later that afternoon, you and Seungmin found yourselves at a seafood restaurant. Well, it was supposed to be Seungmin’s treat, but somehow the two of you ended up bickering over who would pay. Cause you wanna pay too.

“Let’s settle this the mature way—rock, paper, scissors,” Seungmin proposed, holding out his fist.

“Fine,” you agreed, thinking you had a good chance.

You both threw out your hands, and you won.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, triumph coursing through you for about five seconds. But then Seungmin began to order.

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

You frowned, confusion creeping in as the waiter approached. Seungmin rattled off an absurd number of dishes—enough to feed an entire village.

“Seungmin,” you hissed, eyes wide in disbelief, “do you really need to order enough food for 30 people?”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. “You said it was your treat. I’m just taking full advantage.”

You pouted, crossing your arms defiantly. “This isn’t fair. You’re evil.”

“Evil? No way,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I prefer the term ‘strategically gifted.’”

As the waiter left with the long list of orders, you grumbled, “You should’ve thought about that before challenging me.”

In the end, Seungmin ended up paying for most of it, but you insisted on contributing, stubbornly pushing a few bills his way. He didn’t argue too much, shaking his head with an amused smile. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“Of course! If I’m going to be broke, I might as well be happy about it,” you retorted, a grin spreading across your face.

Seungmin laughed, clearly entertained by your determination. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll just let you win without a fight.”

“Deal! But only if you promise not to order enough food for a small army,” you teased, raising your glass in a mock toast.

“Challenge accepted,” he replied, clinking his glass against yours, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it all.

--

Another rehearsal, and you were sitting on the sidelines, legs crossed as you watched your classmates perform. You had just finished your scene and were still buzzing from the energy of it all. The lights cast a warm glow on the stage, and you found yourself quietly admiring the atmosphere, the stars of the production shining brightly in your eyes.

Suddenly, the director's voice broke through your thoughts. “Seungmin, can you step in as the main character for a bit? Our lead’s absent today.”

“Sure,” Seungmin replied, standing up with an easy confidence. He made his way to the center of the stage, and you prepared for him to be awkward or hesitant. Instead, he surprised you.

As he took his place, he transformed. His movements were smooth and assured, his voice resonating with sincerity. You couldn’t help but lean forward, captivated. He moved across the stage effortlessly, delivering his lines with an authenticity that made you forget you were watching your friend.

Wow, he was really talented.

You shook your head slightly, trying to push the thought away. No way could you think Seungmin was handsome. That was just absurd.

Then came a scene where he had to hug the female lead. As he pulled her into a gentle embrace, your heart gave a small, inexplicable flutter. The warmth of his presence seemed to radiate even from where you sat, and you felt an unfamiliar tightening in your stomach.

You tried to shrug it off, focusing on the performance, but the feeling lingered, swirling with an odd mix of admiration and something else entirely. Watching him, you realized you were seeing a different side of Seungmin—one that was undeniably charismatic and captivating.

The rehearsal continued, but you found it harder to concentrate, your thoughts drifting back to the way he had held her, how effortlessly he embodied the character. What was happening to you? You glanced away, trying to regain your composure, but the strange flutter remained, echoing in your mind long after the scene ended.

You were still lost in thought about the rehearsal when Hyunjin sat down beside you. “You look really pretty with your hair like that,” he commented with a smile.

You blushed at the compliment, glancing down. “Thanks! Seungmin said it doesn’t suit me.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly. “Seungmin? He’s just teasing you. That’s his way of telling you he likes it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Definitely,” Hyunjin replied with a smirk. “He wouldn’t bother teasing you if he didn’t like it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He always tease me.”

Hyunjin leaned back, still smiling. “How did you two meet, anyway?”

“We’re neighbors,” you explained. “Since elementary school. We were always competing—who could get the best grades, who could finish their homework first. It’s been like that forever.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Do you hate him?”

You laughed, thinking for a moment. “If I could push him off a cliff, I probably would.”

Hyunjin grinned. “Would you really, though?”

You hesitated, suddenly unsure. “...yes,” you admitted, half-joking.

Hyunjin chuckled, clearly sensing something. “Well, I hope I don’t hear about you two pushing each other off cliffs anytime soon.”

You shrugged with a playful smile. “No promises.”

--

Later, you were eating peacefully in the cafeteria, minding your own business, when Seungmin plopped his tray down across from you. He sat down without a word, digging into his food.

You raised an eyebrow, already knowing what was coming. “Let me guess... your friends are coming?”

Seungmin glanced at you lazily, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. “No, they don’t wanna see you.”

You pouted, pretending to be offended. “I miss Hyunjin.”

“Then ask him out,” Seungmin replied lazily, taking a bite of his bread.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. “You think I have a chance with him?”

Seungmin smirked, shaking his head. “No, he hates monkeys like you who throw erasers at people.”

You gasped, glaring at him. “I do not look like a monkey!”

“Sure, whatever helps you,” Seungmin teased, his grin widening. “And for the record, Hyunjin’s probably just being nice.”

You frowned, “He said I was pretty with my new haircut.”

Seungmin scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how much he lies? He probably tells that to everyone.”

You didn’t bother arguing. Instead, you decided to change tactics. “Help me get him to go out with me, then.”

Seungmin snorted. “Do it on your own. You’re big enough for that.”

You groaned dramatically, leaning across the table toward him. “If you help me, I’ll buy you something. Anything you want.”

Seungmin looked at you, considering it for a moment before shrugging. “Buy me a house."

You rolled your eyes, giving him a deadpan stare. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying how easily you gave up. “Good luck, Juliet.”

--

It was Friday again, and somehow, you found yourself seated next to Seungmin—again. This time, however, you arrived early, a full thirty minutes ahead of your usual time. Feeling tired, you laid your head on the desk, hoping to catch a quick nap.

Just as you were dozing off, you felt a sharp knock on the desk, startling you awake. You looked up to see Seungmin grinning down at you, clearly enjoying your misery.

“Missing me that much, huh?” he teased. “You’re thirty minutes earlier than usual.”

You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “We basically see each other every day. I’m already sick of it,” you replied with a shrug.

Seungmin chuckled, settling into his seat beside you. “You’ll survive. Anyway, I need to copy your assignment.”

You blinked, sitting up straight. “We had an assignment?”

“Seriously?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. He reached into his bag and pulled out his own paper, handing it to you. “Here, just copy mine before Ma’am shows up.”

You took the paper from him, still confused. “Wait, I thought you said you didn’t do the assignment either?”

“I forgot that I had,” Seungmin said casually, smirking. “Now hurry up before it’s too late.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your pen and started copying the assignment, scribbling quickly while glancing at the door every few seconds to make sure the teacher wasn’t close. As you worked, you couldn’t help but notice the shift between you and Seungmin. There was a time when you would’ve refused to help him—or worse, argued with him endlessly. But now? It felt... different. There was a weird sense of comfort in these small moments.

"What now? does our fighting over who finish assignments first done?" you laugh,

"Then give me back my paper. I've changed my mind."

You didn’t hate it. In fact, you kind of liked it.

--

 Seungmin was sipping on his water bottle backstage when Hyunjin approached him, all casual as ever.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin started, leaning against the wall beside him. “Do you like her?”

Seungmin paused mid-sip, glancing sideways at Hyunjin with a raised brow. “What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin gave him a knowing look. “I’ve known you for years, dude. I know when you like someone.”

Seungmin snorted, trying to brush it off. “Why would that matter to you?”

“Well,” Hyunjin said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “if I asked her out, would you get mad?”

Seungmin’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly masked it, his expression turning nonchalant. “Why would I care?”

Hyunjin tilted his head, smirking as if testing Seungmin’s reaction. “Really?”

Seungmin waved his hand dismissively, though his jaw tightened slightly. “What am I, a matchmaker for you two? Why are you even asking for my opinion? I don’t care.”

Hyunjin chuckled and slung an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders. “Thanks, bro. That’s all I needed to know.”

As Hyunjin walked away, Seungmin clenched his water bottle a little too tightly. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more—the fact that Hyunjin seemed interested in you, or the fact that you two were making him feel like some kind of third wheel. Whatever it was, it was starting to get under his skin.

--

Seungmin was making his way back to the classroom, balancing a small box of milk he’d grabbed for you from the cafeteria. He'd overheard you mention wanting one earlier, so without a second thought, he picked one up, hoping to surprise you.

As he neared the classroom door, he paused when he heard your voice. You were deep in conversation with one of your friends, and for some reason, curiosity got the better of him. He stood just outside, hidden by the doorframe, listening.

"Why do you hate Seungmin so much, anyway?" your friend asked.

Seungmin’s ears perked up at the question, his grip tightening around the milk carton. He wasn’t sure why he was still standing there, but he couldn’t move. He just waited.

You sighed before answering, "He's so annoying. Always teasing me, always acting like he’s better than me. He’s infuriating."

Each word hit him harder than he expected, like tiny jabs that made his heart sink deeper and deeper. He already knows this what you felt for him but he doesn't know why it still hurts. He could feel his chest tighten, his breath coming out a little shallower as he stayed rooted to the spot.

But then you added something else, something he missed. A quieter tone followed the harshness of your earlier words. It was softer, almost like you were reflecting on something.

"Lately though... I don’t know. I guess I’ve started to see that maybe he’s not that bad."

But Seungmin didn’t hear those words. He had already turned away, stepping back before he could catch the change in your tone. His heart, now heavier, urged him to walk in the opposite direction, so that’s exactly what he did. The milk, once meant to be a small gesture of kindness, now felt pointless in his hand.

PE class rolled around, and with no rehearsal scheduled, you entered the gym, spotting Seungmin as usual. You both ended up being partners again—something that had become routine at this point. There were no protests, no over-the-top objections. Just quiet acceptance.

The first activity was jogging, but you immediately noticed something was off. Normally, Seungmin would be teasing you the whole time, making snarky comments about how slow you were. But today, he was silent.

"One minute," you said, reading his time on the stopwatch. Normally, this would prompt a laugh from him, followed by some sarcastic remark about how you'd be the first one caught in a zombie apocalypse.

But today, he just nodded and moved on to the next activity without a word. Weird.

The next exercise was push-ups. You barely managed four before collapsing, groaning in exhaustion. Seungmin, on the other hand, breezed through twenty without breaking a sweat. You tried to compliment him in a lowkey way, but he didn’t react—just kept going like a machine.

What is up with him?

Then came the sit-ups. You held down Seungmin’s toes, though it didn’t seem like he needed any help. His form was perfect, and he didn’t even look your way. The proximity of the exercise made you search for his eyes, but every time you tried to make eye contact, he avoided looking at you.

When it was your turn, you felt exhausted by your fifth sit-up, and Seungmin held your toes firmly in place. This time, he watched you more intently, though you couldn’t see him since you were focusing on the exercise. Only when you glanced up did he quickly avert his gaze.

After class, you caught him trying to leave and stopped him in his tracks.

“Seungmin, what’s going on with you?” you asked, planting yourself in front of him.

He gave you a blank look. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re acting... weirdly weird today. Did something happen?”

Seungmin sighed, clearly not in the mood for a conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly, brushing past you.

You caught his arm before he could fully walk away. “Hey, you can talk to me. If something’s wrong, just tell me.”

He paused, looking at you for a moment with an unreadable expression before saying coldly, “Why would I? We’re not friends.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You froze, watching as he walked away, feeling a strange pang in your chest.

Later, you sat next to Hyunjin, watching Seungmin perform his scenes on stage. He still ignored you, going through the motions of his role flawlessly, but there was no denying the distance between you now. The way he looked past you, as if you weren’t there, made you feel... sad.

“What’s up with him?” you muttered to Hyunjin. “He’s been acting strange all day.”

Hyunjin smirked. “He’s probably mad about what I told him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What did you tell him?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, leaning closer. “I told him I like you. And that I was going to ask you out.”

You blinked in surprise, staring at him. “Wait... what?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why else would he be jealous?”

“Jealous?” you repeated, confused. “Why would he be jealous?”

Hyunjin let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know if you and Seungmin are both idiots, or if you’re just blind.”

“Ouch,” you said, feigning offense, though your mind was spinning. Jealous? Seungmin?

Hyunjin’s laugh faded into a small smile, and after a moment of silence, he sighed. “Wow, my confession really flew under the radar, huh?”

You looked at him, feeling a little guilty. Oh... right. His confession.

You smiled awkwardly. “Wait, was it serious? Or were you just joking?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “You think I’m a joker like that puppy?” He nodded toward Seungmin, who was still on stage.

Normally, this would be the moment where you’d blush, stammer, and lose your mind. But something didn’t feel right. There was something nagging at you, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I...”

Before you could respond, Hyunjin raised a hand, cutting you off. “Actually, you know what? Don’t answer me yet. I’ll wait until after the play presentation.”

He smiled, and you smiled back, though it felt forced.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m just getting my water bottle,” Seungmin’s voice broke the moment as he stepped between you two, grabbing his bottle.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he was gone before you could. You stared after him, feeling more confused than ever.

-

In the past, this type of bickering was normal between you two. You had always gotten on each other's nerves, and usually, you'd be happy to ignore him, savoring the peace and quiet. But this time felt different. Why were you so affected by his silence? Why did it feel like a hollow pit had formed in your chest, waiting for him to fill it? You hated him, didn’t you? You used to hate him—right? But now, all you felt was a growing sense of confusion and frustration, like you were waiting for something that never came.

Seungmin had been avoiding you for three days now, and at first, you brushed it off, assuming he had something on his mind. But as time went on, the weight of his silence pressed harder. It wasn’t just affecting the play—it was affecting you. His avoidance felt more personal than it ever had before, and it gnawed at you until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

"Seungmin, let's talk." You caught up to him backstage, your voice firmer than usual, trying to mask the vulnerability you were starting to feel.

"Why?" he responded coldly, not even looking in your direction.

You blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of his tone. "What do you mean, 'why'? We obviously need to talk about something."

"I don't want to," he replied like a stubborn child, folding his arms defensively.

You groaned, frustration bubbling inside you. "Stop giving me that bratty attitude, Seungmin. Let's just talk, okay?" Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist, dragging him toward the exit door for privacy.

Once you were both outside, you turned to face him, still gripping his wrist. "Are you angry at me?" you asked softly, though the edge of desperation in your voice betrayed you.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your grasp, shrugging. "We're normally angry at each other," he muttered, staring at the ground as if avoiding your gaze would shield him from the conversation.

You furrowed your brows, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Seungmin, we both know something has changed between us. We’re… sort of friends now, right? Why are you acting like this?"

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Why? This is normal. We’ve always been like this. Why are you suddenly acting like something's different?"

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard. "So I’m still just an enemy to you?" The words slipped out, raw and vulnerable, and you hated yourself for how much it hurt. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back quickly. "Because for me—" Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. "For me, things changed. I’ll be honest with you. I hated you so much before, Seungmin. I mean, if I could’ve thrown you into the fire pit, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat." You laughed bitterly, trying to lighten the mood, but your heart ached as you realized the truth. "But now, I see you as a friend."

Seungmin's breath hitched at your confession, and for a moment, his walls seemed to crack. But then his jaw clenched, and he shook his head. "No."

You stared at him, bewildered. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"

His voice was strained, like he was forcing the words out. "Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you just focus on Hyunjin and pretend like I’m not even here?"

"Why would I do that?" you asked, confusion lacing your words.

Seungmin's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "Because you like him," he bit out. "You like Hyunjin, and you’ve hated me since the day we met."

You stepped closer, lowering your voice, "Seungmin… I told you. We're past that stage of hating each other."

His laugh was hollow, bitter. "You’ve hated me since we were kids. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? But you know what? I preferred it that way. I’d rather you keep hating me than whatever this is."

You were silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. It hit you hard—the realization that Seungmin had always been more affected by your feelings than you’d thought. And now, he was clinging to the past because it was easier to accept your hatred than deal with the uncertainty of whatever you were becoming now.

"But I don't hate you anymore," you said softly, your voice gentle but firm.

His gaze flickered up to meet yours for the briefest second before he looked away again, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he shook his head, taking a deep breath.

"Then what do you feel now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was a question you hadn’t fully answered yourself. What did you feel? What had changed between you two? The hate had faded long ago, replaced by something warmer, something deeper. But how could you put it into words when you weren’t sure what those feelings even were?

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice trembling. "But I know I don’t want to keep ignoring it. I don’t want to keep pretending like we’re still stuck in the past. I care about you, Seungmin, and I—"

He cut you off, his voice sharp but shaky, "Stop. Don’t say it. Please."

His plea was laced with fear, and you could see it now—the fear of getting hurt, of being vulnerable. Seungmin had always hidden behind his teasing and sharp words, but now, as he stood before you, walls crumbling, you realized just how much he had been protecting himself all along.

"Seungmin..." You took a step closer, your hand hesitating before reaching out to touch his arm. "You don’t have to push me away."

He closed his eyes, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away again. But then, he sighed, the weight of his emotions too heavy to bear alone anymore. "You don’t get it," he whispered, his voice raw. "I’m scared. Scared that if you don’t hate me, you’ll realize… I’ve liked you for so long, and I don’t know how to handle that."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. The tension, the unspoken words, all of it finally made sense. You felt your chest tighten as you processed his words, the vulnerability behind them cutting deep.

Seungmin liked you.

And somehow, deep down, you’d known.

-

The day of the play had arrived, and for the first time, a tight knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. You'd performed in front of people before, but this time felt different. This time, you weren’t just performing in front of a crowd—you were performing in front of him.

As you paced backstage, waiting for the curtain to rise, you couldn’t help but glance around anxiously, searching for Seungmin. The others were already in place, getting ready for the opening act. But Seungmin… he was nowhere to be seen.

Your heart raced as minutes ticked by. What if he didn’t show up? What if his feelings, the tension between you, had driven him away? You shook your head, trying to focus, but the anxiety clung to you like a second skin.

The stage manager called for the cast to take their places, and you stepped toward the stage, dread settling deep in your chest. The lights dimmed, the curtains rustled, and the play was about to begin. But Seungmin—where was he?

Just as the opening music started and your heart sank, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned and saw him. Seungmin, slightly out of breath, his eyes locking with yours as he walked into place. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, and you felt a rush of relief. He had made it.

You took a deep breath, letting his presence calm you, and when the curtains finally rose, you stepped into your role. The lights blinded you for a second, and the sound of the audience rustled in the background, but none of that mattered. Your focus was on one person.

Seungmin.

You went through your lines, heart pounding in your chest. The audience faded away, and it was just the two of you on stage. But when you looked into Seungmin’s eyes, delivering your lines, it felt too real—like every word you spoke wasn’t part of the play but something deeper.

And then came the moment. The pivotal line.

As you reached the climax of your scene, Seungmin stepped closer, his gaze steady and intense. “I love you,” he said, his voice clear and sincere.

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words, delivered in that moment, felt electric. It wasn’t just a line; it was a declaration that cut through the scripted lines and went straight to your heart.

Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over. You weren’t supposed to cry here—not in this scene—but it was impossible to hold back the emotion. The intensity of the moment, standing before him as he revealed his feelings, overwhelmed you.

Seungmin’s gaze softened, and for a second, the audience faded away. It was just you and him, wrapped in a moment that felt like the truth finally breaking through.

You tried to respond, but the weight of his confession hung in the air, filling the space between you. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

The play continued, but all you could think about was Seungmin’s words. He had spoken them as part of the script, but they felt so real, so genuine. Something shifted in the atmosphere between you two—something undeniable.

As the final act came to a close, and you took your bow, the audience erupted in applause. But even then, your eyes were only on Seungmin, wondering if he felt the same shift in the air between you two. Something had changed. Something profound. And while you weren’t sure where it would lead, for now, you were content just to hold on to the moment, letting it linger as the lights dimmed and the curtains closed.

For now, the stage had played its part, but what came next was something only time would tell.

-

a reblog, like, and comment is very much appreciated to keep me going. thanks for reading, love!

sorry for being inactive lately and not responding to any of your messages i appreciate you all love you sm!!

part 2 here!

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 3: The Wheels of Fate Started to Turn

Previous | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

You feel sick when you wake. Muscles weak and body shaky. It takes more effort than you would like to peel your eyes open. You haven’t sat under a UV lamp in a while and it’s starting to show. The cocoon of sheets feels so good you don’t want to get up, to peel yourself away from them.

You realize Johnny and Kyle are gone as you sit up, all alone in the center of the massive bed. The room feels darker without them, somehow. Emptier. You roll over to climb off the bed, interrupted by the sound of paper crinkling under you. You feel around the mattress only to find a thick envelope with ‘Fancy’ neatly written across the front. As you open it, your breath catches in your throat at the contents. It’s nearly double what they said they’d pay. More than you could have ever hoped for. It makes your hands shake to hold that much money all at once. Once the shock wears off, a folded up piece of paper catches your eye.

Hey lovie,

Sorry to take off without saying goodbye. Had some business to attend to. Figured we should let you sleep. Hope you won’t be too mad ;)

We left a little extra for spending the night. Nothing like cuddling up next to a soft, warm lady.

Let’s do it again soon.

Kyle + Johnny

The handwriting changes to a messy scrawl that you have to squint to make out.

P.S. You look bonnie in my shirt. Gonnae be thinking about that all day. Feel free to take it with you.

P.S.S. I want it back unwashed.

You can’t help but snicker to yourself. Damn dirty dog.

You have no reason to deny him, though. So you slip the t-shirt on over your dress as you get ready to leave. The dress feels far too constrictive for the early morning. This is why you don’t do nights - walking out looking like a mess in the itchy day old clothes. You give up looking for your panties which seem to have evaporated, not too keen on putting them back on anyway.

Before you can tip-toe your way out to the front door, you find yourself pausing. The kitchen light is on, illuminating a figure working over the stove. Curiosity gets the better of you and you circle around the counter to see John sorting ingredients in nothing but a loose pair of sweatpants. Strong, nicely hairy chest on full display.

And they call you and slut.

“Good morning.” He flashes you a bright smile. Of course he noticed you. He probably smelled you before he even heard you leave the bedroom.

“Sorry… I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude.” You mumble awkwardly.

“No, no. I was hoping you’d stop f’me. My boys treat you alright?” He eyes your shirt.

Being asked that a second time throws you off. Why the hell do they care so much? “They did.”

“Good. Good.” He smiles warmly. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

You scoff. “You? No offense but I’d rather take my chances with the nearest dumpster.”

“Contrary to popular belief, some of us remember how to cook.”

You glance at the half-dozen cart of eggs and perfectly fresh vegetables neatly arranged across the counter. “And you just happened to have human food on hand?”

He pauses. “…I may have had some delivered.”

John turns back to the stove, muttering something under his breath about ‘too smart for her own damn good.’

You pad over beside him to look down at the food, staring at the spread. You point at some red thing you don’t recognize. “What is that?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The tomato?”

“Tomatoes are purple.” You poke it. “And more squishy.”

You meet his eye and for a brief moment, you think you see pity. Something sad swirling in the blue of his irises. He schools his face back to neutral before you can be sure you saw anything at all.

“Well, hopefully you trust an old codger like me to make you a half-decent omelette.”

You snort, leaning back on the kitchen island. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

You both lapse into silence. He does seem to know what he’s doing - carefully chopping the vegetables and carefully folding the omelette in the pan. Maybe he had a human wife at some point or something. Most likely. That’s not uncommon, especially back in the 21st century. Practically a trend. You tilt your head as you watch him move, brow furrowed. He’s so weird.

What could you have said to them to make them treat you like this? You’re almost afraid to know - that block of time so buried in the recesses of your mind there’s no hope of ever recovering it. That doesn’t mean you haven’t tried since that day, but you know we’ll enough that it never works. You don’t have a single guess as to what it could have been.

Maybe you didn’t say anything. Maybe they’re just weirdly tunnel visioned. Vamps do that often enough - hone in on a target of affection. For any reason from looking like a dead loved one or they just have an enticing scent. Except they’re not usually this… nice. Normally they’d just drain the object of their affection and be done with it. Not ask them to sleep over for the night and cook them breakfast in the morning.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a plate is set in front of you. It looks… perfect. At least you assume that’s what a good omelette looks like. Nicely golden. It looks alien. Food from another world - another time. You glance up at John as he watches you expectantly. It won’t hurt to entertain him, you suppose. Even if it does end up being shit. You cut a small bite, tentatively bringing it to you your lips. You brace for something awful.

Except it’s incredible. Perfectly cooked and seasoned. You can’t help but let out a content little hum before practically scarfing it down. You haven’t had food like this in… ever, actually. Neither this fresh or well made.

“So you like it?” John smiles.

You nod happily with a mouth full of food before remembering where you are. Steeling yourself and slowing down, returning to the more reserved persona. “It’s good.”

John huffs out a laugh, turning his back to you to clean up. “I’ll drive you home when you’re finished.”

You pause mid bite. “Oh, no, I can take the train-“

“Do you really want t’walk all the way to the depot in those heels?” John cocks an brow, blue eyes dragging from your face, over your body and down your legs. There’s a slow burning intensity in the movement that sends a shiver down your spine.

You stare at him for a moment, uncertain of what to do. The last thing you need is to owe a vampire for anything. They’ll take your debts to the grave. It happened with your neighbor once - you learned early on to be wary of any offer made by one of them. Never make a deal with one of the devils.

“You won’t be indebted for it.” John chuckles as if he can read your damn mind. Maybe he can.

You chew your lip. It’s at least an hour walk to the metro station from here. You don’t want him to see where you live, though. It will ruin the illusion. Images flash through your mind of the craggily walls of your apartment building. The syringes that line the sidewalk. There’s that massive blood stain on the front steps they still haven’t cleaned up after five years.

But then you meet his eyes. They’re so sincere. So bright. Whatever that tug is in your chest that keeps giving into them pulls again. It’s unraveling you, making you insane. Surely that’s it, you’re finally going insane.

“Okay.” It comes out weaker than you’d like.

John grins a though you gave him the greatest gift in history. It makes your face hot - leaves you shifting awkwardly. You’re not used to that much emotion carved into their marble features. This coven is too expressive. It’s putting you on edge, leaving you with your guard up. Against what, though? What’s the point? Shouldn’t you be happy and play into their more excitable nature?

It’s too unfamiliar. Too otherworldly to see human emotion on their god like features.

A cool finger hooks under your chin, lifting your face to meet John’s gaze. “You think too much.”

You scoff and tear your face away from his hand. Thinking keeps you alive. The girls that don’t think don’t survive past their teens. You have to be smart to stay alive here. To even have a hope of keeping up with creatures who contain centuries of knowledge and experience. Who are so far ahead in the race the best you can do is limp along in the dust.

A valet pulls the car around. John changed into jeans and half zip sweater. You would die before admitting to the small bit of disappointment at him donning a shirt. You expect the black SUV from the night before to pull up. Instead, you’re met with a basic sedan. It’s still nice - obviously new. The seats are a soft, well cared for leather.

“So is this what you do? Invite prostitutes over for omlettes and tea and then drive them home?” You blurt as John starts the car. That itch to dissect their thought processes continues to plague the back of your mind.

“Tea?” He repeats, a brow raised.

“Simon made me tea last night.”

John laughs. “Kyle really did fuck your throat raw, then?”

You whirl on him, eyes wide.

“Don’t act so surprised. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Said you took it beautifully.” John sighs. “Bit jealous I didn’t get to watch the show. A good cigar and whiskey in hand? The perfect night, I think. Might have to recreate it…”

That last bit sounds more for him than for you.

You shouldn’t blush. You’ve been doing this long enough that there’s no reason to blush anymore. You have no right to be flustered over something as simple as sex. It’s the way he says it, you think. The way desire drips from every syllable as though he’s never said anything more true in his immortal life.

You just hide behind a huff and look out the window. “You’re all very weird, you know that?”

“Are we, now?” John rests his elbow on the door and his head on his hand. He weaves through the chaotic city roads expertly.

“You’re too…” You wrinkle your nose, pausing. The word gets lost on your tongue.

“Human?”

“If you say so.”

John chuckles. “You’re just as weird, you know that?”

“I am not weird!” You snap indignantly.

“If you say so.”

You have to do a double take when he pulls up to your apartment. Is it really that fast by car? What was that, ten minutes? The train is a nearly twenty minute ride with two fifteen minute walks. The walk is nearly three hours - two if you take the back way.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, voice dropping to a low drawl. You shake your head to clear it, pulling your respirator out of your coat.

“Don’t you need a-“ You stop when you meet John’s deadpan expression. “Oh, right.”

“Appreciate the concern, love.” He chuckles. It’s a surprisingly warm sound.

You reach for the door, respirator in hand and at the ready. You pause when John lays a hand lightly on your shoulder. Turning back, your eyes meeting his. There’s that storm again. The one he looked at you with before. Something roiling underneath the surface.

“Fancy?”

“Yes?”

“Before you go.” John leans forward. “C’mere.”

You assume he wants a kiss. It wouldn’t surprise you - a little thank you for the ride. Frankly, you should have thought of it first. Instead, he ducks his head to the side at the last moment. His hand tangles gently but firmly in your hair to pull your head to the side, leaving your neck craned and exposed. You freeze. Fear takes over - your heart rate immediately spiking. Your hands fist his coat, pushing as hard as you can against the unmoving mountain that is his body.

“John-“ Your voice cracks. “Please don’t-“

“Need t’ make sure you’re safe…” He mumbles.

A fang catches your skin. You freeze.

It drags across your neck, down the arch of your artery. You suck in a hear breath, the skin not quite breaking under the touch. Before you can speak or begin pushing again or even try to get out of the car, he bites down. A yelp escapes you as his teeth slowly sink in - only through the top most layer of skin. Not enough to puncture the artery or even for his other teeth to bite into your skin.

Your whole body shakes. “What’re you-“

John shushes you as he pulls away, eyes locked on the cut he made on your neck. You can feel the wet blood beginning to drip down your neck. His hand stays in your hair, holding you in place. The blue of his irises seems somehow brighter, pupils so narrowed they don’t look to be more than pinpricks. After a few beats he seems satisfied, letting your hair go and sitting back in his seat.

“Just a precaution, love.”The vampire looks you over, eyes suddenly painfully soft again. “Take care of yourself.”

Your eyes flick between his. A cold, rushing fear pumps through your veins. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish before you finally come to your senses, taking the chance to dash out of the car and toward your apartment. Fight or flight pushing away any ability to ask what the fuck that was. By the time you turn around to check behind you, John is far down the street.

You rush to your bathroom mirror, tossing your respirator to the ground as soon as you’re in your front door. It’s not deep. He didn’t even lick up after himself - a thin trail of blood pooling around your clavicle before continuing down. It wasn’t about drinking. You hiss as your fingers lightly test the tender skin.

What the fuck?

He’s a vampire. At the end of the day that’s all he is. No facial expressions or ability to cook will undo that he’s a different creature entirely. Was that what this is about? Reminding you what they are? The power they have? You wouldn’t put it past one of them, the sick fucks. What kind of fool were you to think they’re at all different.

After a shower and finally changing into some pajamas (minus a certain vampire’s tshirt that he will not be getting back) you go to grab your lamp. It doesn’t take long to set up the UV light, just dragging it out of storage and setting up the shade above it so that the rays concentrate downward onto your skin. You slowly sink to the ground. Exhaustion clings to your bones. They feel brittle and heavy simultaneously.

You sigh, curling up under the warm light like a cat. You have to be smart about how long you stay under it - the damn thing runs up the electricity bill like nothing else. Plus, too long under it can cause serious skin damage. As much as you’d rather go without, you’ve seen what happens to those that do.

You half heartedly re-count out the envelope of money, still feeling overwhelmed at the sheer amount of it. At the whole situation at hand. You realize quickly enough that despite having the money to do almost anything you don’t actually… know what to do. Despite the plan being to save up and get out of the slums you never really planned for what to do once you were out of the slums.

The realization that you never truly believed you could do it, even unconsciously, is a little heartbreaking.

Do you keep working at the club? Hope that these clients like you enough to keep up with your new lifestyle? Pray that they enjoy fucking you for long enough to save up? Do you even want to see them after what John just did? Do you look for another job? There isn’t much you can get when the whole of your resume is stamped with WHORE in bright red letters.

With a low groan you slump back on the floor and throw your arm over your eyes. Everything is so fucked. You’re lost in it and it’s all fucked.

Normally, you would avoid information about the people that come in and out of your club. They’re looking for discretion, after all. A place to hide away from the dealings of life. A fantasy. If you were smart, you’d stick with that habit. Especially when it comes to the ones that literally compel you to forget their business.

John just lost the right to any discretion after that stunt in the car.

You open up your shitty laptop that requires five hail mary’s to start. It greets you with the top headlines of the day, all just as enjoyable as you’d expect.

UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE FOUND IN FOUR MORE JANE DOES

NEW DRUG CYTH TAKING THE UNDERGROUND MARKETS BY STORM

CORPSE FOUND WITH BLOOD LEAKING FROM PORES

You close them out, for your own sanity, and type John’s name into the search bar. A few things come up - some company called One-Four-One with the most nothing description about what kind of company they are. They “develop products and services” - aka they’re a shell for shady bullshit. They’re listed as the benefactor for some lower city charities and given responsibility for several mergers and buy-outs in the upper city. All the things you’d expect from a corporation.

It’s too clean, though. You’ve been living in the underbelly long enough to know what a front looks like. Not that you’re surprised. Every vampire corporation is a cover for a million other little inner workings you will never be privy to.

The only pictures of John are a few from press reports. His imposing figure standing behind some ugly podium with a logo hastily plastered across the front. He has a commanding air about him behind all those microphones - like a preacher or a politician. Fitting.

Johnny and Kyle have a far more risqué library. Images with models and other beautiful women. The kinds of things you’d expect from young, playboy vampires stretching over the past century at least, according to the archive dates. The boys aren’t the focus of the images - it’s all paparazzi for the women - but they’re in them nonetheless. How the hell did Johnny manage to squeeze into a pair of leather pants like that?

Simon doesn’t even seem to exist. A total ghost. No matter how deep you go you can’t find a trace of him. You manage to get all the way back to the 1990s in the archive and still come up with jack shit.

You’re left with more questions than answers and a distinct understanding that you shouldn’t ask any of them. You knew that already, though, and you have no plans to let John Price close enough to speak to you anytime soon.

You didn’t realize you fell asleep up until you wake, alarm blaring in your ear that it’s time to get up and go to work. It never ends. You still feel so fucking tired, body heavy and eyes stinging. A haze settles over your mind as you fall into your constant routine. Makeup, hair, dress, respirator on, walk, train, respirator off, walk.

Your locker in the back room fights you, forcing you to practically break it open. Just another thing to leave you feeling angry and useless.

“I heard they got Red.” The girl beside you whispers. She’s mousy, new. A gossiper. She even tried to talk to you, at least before she found out that you apparently steal clients.

The girl she’s speaking to side eyes her. “What do you mean got ‘er?”

“With that new drug - Cyth or whatever.”

“Cyth isn’t real. It’s just people making up shit to cover up what the vamps are doing. As if we don’t already know.”

“But what about-“ You don’t hear the rest of what she says, her voice drowning out as you leave the back room.

Time seems to crawl by at the club without the men. You hate it. Not just the slowness of the day but the fact that they’ve had that effect on you. That these creatures you barley know have invaded your thoughts. Wormed themselves into the nooks and crannies of your psyche. Marked you - however temporarily that may be.

The patrons avoid your eyes. You serve their drinks, and where they would normally make a salacious remark or grab onto you they just offer a huffy thanks and ignore you. The tips are garbage, even the other serving girls notice and begin to basically steal your tables. It has to be the bite.

Why, though? Plenty of serving girls have fresh bite marks and they aren’t getting reactions like that. You can count four on the main floor right now.

At least once the day is over, it’s over. You can go home and hide away. Be angry in peace. Maybe make a plan for what to do. Maybe you can leave the city you and your friends talked about as teens. Except they’re all dead now and you’re pretty sure there isn’t anything outside of the dome anymore. At least not anything you could get to.

The other girls don’t walk with you to the metro anymore. The streets are never truly empty in the main city. There’s no real day or night. It’s only the places humans inhabit that become abandoned during the “night.” As you exit the lower city station, the streets empty out. It’s just you, footsteps echoing off buildings. The smog in the air only makes it darker - even harder to navigate.

Until a second pair of footsteps appears, fast and growing louder by the second. Before you can even begin to run or check behind you a force slams into you, sending you tumbling down onto harsh concrete and into an alley.

You’re cornered. There’s nowhere to go. Before you can grapple for your garlic spray the vampire has your wrists in his hand, pulling you up to dangle in front of him. The backs of your hands and arms scrape against the rough brick of the building he’s pinned you too. It hurts, cutting deep into your skin under the pressure of his strength.

The thing hisses, ripping off the neck guard attached to your respirator. The whole thing goes clattering to the ground. You choke on the poison air, lungs immediately rejecting it.

You tip your eyes to the obstructed sky. Of course it would end this way. It’s the end for you all, isn’t it? Just another body in an alley. Another free apartment for people to fight over. Another headline for people to frown at on the train. You wonder if they would use your name or just leave you as another Jane Doe.

What do the real stars look like, anyway?

He takes a long inhale and freezes in place. You can barely make out wide, frenzied eyes. A hood blocks any of his other features. His breath hastens, chest heaving against yours. What the hell is he waiting for?

Suddenly he reels backward, hissing and spitting. Muttering words you don’t understand. It drops you so suddenly that you collapse to the ground. Unable to gain any footing, still coughing and choking.

“What-“ You’re not even sure why you want to ask it a question. Before you can at all the thing runs away down the alley. Your hand travels up to your neck.

The bite.

A coughing fit sends you doubling over and you blearing grope around the ground for your respirator. At least it didn’t get smashed, you sigh in relief - clipping it back around your face and neck.

Your hands shake and you turn, staring up at that massive skyscraper hanging above the city. It’s taunting you. You feel like you can almost see John staring down at you, toying with you. An anger flares in your body so hot you almost feel as thought you’ve caught fire. He wants to fuck with you? To make you feel weak? To try to lay some sort of claim?

Fine. You can play ball.

A/N: John “you don’t need to know what’s going on, love, just do what I say” Price and Miss “don’t fuck with my independence” Fancy

I don’t love this chapter but I gotta get plot moving and grooving.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Mob Rules | Mafia AU | Reader x ...everyone

Bucky and Steve have banned girlfriends in the gang, but they're not cruel, they know their crew works hard and needs to let off steam sometimes...and that's when your hard work starts.

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content, language and themes now and throughout this AU

Follow @illyrianlibrary for updates!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Bucky - Cockwarming

Thor - Playtime

The room was completely silent. Each of the assembled crew around the table staring at Cap and Sarge. 

You didn’t really want anyone else in the room, you had been quite happy, sprawled on the large blanket under the table, moving between your new masters in turn. You had been licking a long stripe up Bucky’s hard cock when the first knock sounded, jolting you from your soft state into one of panic. 

Tucking himself away, Bucky had shouted ‘enter’ allowing a seeming herd of other people into the room. 

Sensing your nervousness, Steve had placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip until you sucked the digit into your mouth, once more content to rest between them while they carried out their business. 

“Is this real, or a trick?” The man’s voice was like thunder, loud but clear. You couldn’t tell who was talking yet, only seeing a series of shoes, combat boots and a few loafers, one pair of battered trainers…you closed your eyes, sucking harder on Steve’s thumb and focussing on the polished shoes in front of you, one brown pair, one black pair, Steve and Bucky, Sir and Sarge, that was all you needed to worry about.  

“It’s not a trick, Thor.” Steve rolled his eyes, “we know we brought that rule in, no girlfriends.” 

A disgruntled murmur ran around the room, none of the men willing to vocalise how frustrated and angry they’d been since. 

Bucky slammed his palm onto the table and the room went quiet again, you jumped clinging to his calf, but remained where you were. 

“We brought the rule in, now we’re fixing it, but only if you're polite.” He growled.

“C’mon out, Bambi.” Steve and Bucky pushed their chairs back and Steve held out a hand to you, the ring on his pinky finger flashing in the afternoon light. 

Placing one hand slowly in front of the other you crawled out from underneath the table, one hand on Steve’s thigh, one on Bucky’s. The latter reached down, cupping your chin in his large, tattooed hand and pinched your cheeks. 

“Good girl, now say hello to the crew.” 

You turned, kneeling high enough that your head and shoulders peeked over the top of the walnut table, resting your chin on one hand you raised the other in a wave, “hello.” You whispered, nervously eyeing the array of men and women sitting around the long conference table.

You’d been worried ever since Cap’ and Sarge had informed you that your world would be expanding outside of their closed off penthouse, but now you felt that familiar throb of longing deep between your legs. They were handsome, your masters’ friends, so perhaps this wouldn’t be so awful after all. 

Bucky tucked a palm under your elbow and helped you stand, your feet wobbly after your time spent kneeling at his feet. Your heels tipped you forward slightly and you crossed your arms behind your back to steady yourself, pushing your chest out at the same time. A collective intake of air rippled around the room and, you supposed, that was to be expected given your scanty attire. 

Steve had wanted you to make a good impression and had chosen a soft pink babydoll with plenty of ribbons and bows. You certainly felt like a doll once they’d finished dressing you up but you loved it, loved that you didn’t have to make any decisions anymore. You let your wide eyes take in the room again, the hungry looks in everyone’s eyes. 

“Bambi, the family -” Steve gestured to the assembled group, “family, Bambi.” 

There was a chorus of replies, hellos and good mornings before the room went quiet again.

“Well, we don’t have much work to do today, so -” Bucky looked up at you, his hand on your hip protectively, “get to know everyone, okay. Take your time.” His smile was soft, but dropped from his face when he looked back at the rest of the family, “as for you, be polite.” Bucky glared around the room, “and remember to play nicely.” 

Vote on the next part HERE!

[magicalbats]

Oh, Captain (Luffy x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5222

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, noncon, physical coercion, outdoor sex, inappropriate use of 5th Gear

A/N: My second ever commission and the lovely donor was kind enough to give me permission to post it for everyone else to read. Thank you for a great experience, @avidbroswer!! 🩷🩷🩷

⭐

Let’s help Luffy, they’d said.  

We’re a crew, they’d said. Family. 

You don’t feel very much like family when you’re running for your life from the very captain you’d sworn loyalty to. Or at least, you’re pretty sure that the strange figure with white nimbus cloud hair is your captain. You’d watched it happen from a (questionably) safe distance, when he suddenly transformed in a surge of sparking static electricity that made your skin crawl like it was trying to escape from your bones but it’s still hard to believe that it was really him. Even having seen the reality of it with your own two eyes doesn’t make it any easier to accept. 

Luffy was supposed to be a dark haired, dark eyed youth in the prime of his life. Not this uncanny version of him that giddily laughs with boisterous amusement while he ping pongs about so violently within the craggy mess of scorched earth in the wake of his battle with Kaido that you can feel the massive chunks of rock slamming into the ground as much as you can hear it. One after another, from the left and then the right, they just keep falling in an almost continuous rain of rubble and ruin. The resulting shockwaves very nearly take you off your feet more than once but you force yourself to keep running even when your sore legs scream in protest, aching from the exertion. It was the only choice you really had at this point. 

And it’s not lost on you that this is technically your own fault for getting so close to the fight but you’d wanted to help. All that talk of family and crew, and unwavering allegiance to the Straw Hats had clearly infected your brain because you’d rushed straight into the danger zone despite knowing good and well that you were the only one close enough to make it in time. Now you were the one who needed help and it wasn’t going to arrive soon enough to do you any good. 

What an idyllic fool you’d been. 

“Ah!” You suddenly get tripped up in all the rocky debris laying across the ground and fall to your knees with a seething hiss. Your palms come back scraped where they’d shot out to catch you but you’ve managed to avoid taking the brunt of it to the face. Thank the stars for life’s smallest miracles. 

Panting heavily, you just sit there amongst the broken wreckage and detritus for a harrowingly long beat, trying to catch your breath. You can still hear the chaotic destruction of Luffy — or the man who had once been Luffy — bouncing around like a rubber ball behind you, completely unimpeded by the laws of gravity or common sense. It sounded like he was having a blast. 

Maybe that was good. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed you yet, so lost within the mess of demolished land and too tiny a speck to even draw his attention. You had a chance to escape then, if that was the case. 

Any such hopes quickly fizzle out when his uproarious hooting and hollering abruptly rushes towards you, getting louder and louder until your eardrums start to vibrate. You suck in a sharp, nauseated gasp and slap your hands over your ears as you twist around to look behind you. Just in time to watch Luffy sail overhead like a shooting white comet. The kickback from his high velocity speed hits you seconds later, tearing a shriek from your mouth when the wind hits you full force and as solid as any wall. 

Too busy ducking down with your head between your knees to protect yourself from the sting of flying rocks, you don’t get to see how he manages to pivot his momentum mid air and land a couple hundred yards away. You hear it though. You feel the shock of impact too, when it races through the ground to make the rubble underneath you tremble. It goes quiet then, and unnaturally still. Suddenly all you can hear are your own labored gasps. 

You hesitate to do it but, realizing you have no other option, you slowly lift your face to peer out over all the fallen debris. Standing at a distance, Luffy just looks at you with a fiercely manic edge in his now golden-yellow eyes that makes your veins ice up. You’re more certain than ever that this cannot be your captain. He should have been giving you the usual bright faced, happy go lucky grin he always did when he inexplicably came out on top against all the odds that were stacked against him. Not this — viscous leer of victory. 

But if this wasn’t Luffy then who in the seven seas was it? 

“Have you come to celebrate with me?” 

His voice isn’t quite the same either. More raspy, like the weight of immense power flowing through him was putting strain even on his vocal cords. You don’t think you like that any more than you like the way he’s eyeing you up as if you were a stuffed pig on a roasting spit. Even for his bottomless pit of an appetite, you’d never seen him look at another person quite like that. 

Cautiously slow, you straighten up out of your defensive huddle. Work to get your feet under you without taking your attention off him for even a moment and then stand so you can prepare to … what, run again? A lot of good that had clearly done you. 

“I don’t think it’s time to celebrate just yet.” You tell him softly. “We need to find the other Straw Hats. Make sure they’re all okay. You still remember them … don’t you, Luffy?” 

Your emotional plea only succeeds in giving him a momentary pause. “But I have so much energy left. I just want to dance and shout, and jump into the air! You’ll join me, won’t you?” 

He takes a step towards you, a rather aggressive one at that, and you quickly back up. Something told you if you didn’t agree to go along with this he was going to try and force you into joining in on whatever constituted his idea of merrymaking. Unfortunately you weren’t sure if you’d survive that, given the state of all the crumbled boulders littering the ground on this now desolate stretch of land. 

“No, Luffy. Not right now. We have to - -“ 

With an abrupt jerk, he lurches forward as if to launch himself at you. His rubbery legs momentarily struggle for traction on the ground, as if they couldn’t quite decide what consistency they wanted to be, but you don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. Feeling like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, you spin around and make a mad dash for it, barreling straight into a dead sprint. 

It’s a resounding effort in futility. 

You don’t even make it three whole steps before he slams into your back hard enough to take you right off your feet. 

There’s a split second moment of shock at how fast he’d managed to close the distance, and then the ground is rushing up at your face again. 

That dizzying blur of vertigo inducing free fall coupled with the way your vision tilts on its axis very nearly has you spewing your guts right then and there. But if Luffy picks up on the dire, sickened tinge coloring your wounded grunt he certainly doesn’t act it. He just flings his arms around your middle, alarming in their fleshy elasticity and yet still familiar to you, then hauls you up against his front before you can slam into the rocks. 

Everything happens much too fast for you to keep up with any of it. Your brain is reeling, still trying to recover from the impact of his body colliding with yours and the subsequent head rush that followed. So stunned you can’t even find the wherewithal to protest his treatment of you let alone try to fight your way free. Unable to do anything else, you simply allow your limbs to bonelessly flail when he takes a handful of eager steps forward with you in his arms. 

In the next moment Luffy spins you out away from him, snagging your wrist to stop your momentum and make you jerk to another abrupt standstill. The yank on your shoulder causes it to pop, splintering pain racing up your arm as you cry out. He doesn’t care though. He either doesn’t care or he doesn’t notice, because he just pulls you right back into him again, hard enough to make you collapse with a teeth rattling jolt against his chest. 

“Come on!” He laughs, loud and frenzied, his hold on you much too tight where it’s shackled around your wrist. “Dance with me! Aren’t you having fun?” 

Teeth gnashing to fight back the nausea, you bring your uncaptured hand up and brace it against his shuddering frame. You’re more than just a little surprised to find his heartbeat hammering out a sharp, almost violent staccato against his ribcage, so powerful you can feel it thrumming through his skin. It reminds you of an endless procession of war drums. Too many to count and impossibly loud, their ferocity equally intimidating and awe inspiring. 

What in the world had happened to him? 

You don’t have the privilege of lingering on that question for very long. Couldn’t afford to, as you try to get your tired legs situated under you again so you can stand on your own. “You’re hurting me, Luffy. We don’t have time for this right now. Just let me go. Please.” 

But he doesn’t even seem to register what you’re saying as a plea at all. 

A snickering, raspy laugh rattles up out of him, and you vehemently push at his narrow chest with your uncaptured hand. Shove him as hard as you can. He still doesn't budge though, simply reaching up to snag that wrist too so he can forcefully spin you around in his arms. You feel sick with the rush of motion coupled with the fatigue and throbbing pain in your body but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. He’s too strong, too wild, too lost in whatever manic high he’s slipped into after his fight with Kaido. 

Tightening his grip to lock you against his front, Luffy moulds himself to the line of your back with such an unnatural, rubbery motion that you find yourself fighting not to wretch even as his mouth finds your neck. He nuzzles at you for a brief moment, just brushing his lips over your jackhammering pulse before angling his nose towards the spot just behind your ear. The breath he draws is slow and savory, and he seems to hold it in his lungs for an unnecessarily long time. 

When he at last sighs out, displacing some of the loose flyaways in your hair, an unmistakable rumble low in his chest accompanies it. “Mmm, you smell good. Like victory.” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Luffy, just listen to me … don’t do this. I - I don’t really understand what's happened to you but we can figure it out together. We’ll fix it. I promise. But you need to let me go or - -“

“Let you go? But we’re having so much fun. I want to have even more fun with you but you’re not a fighter, not like he was. And you don’t want to dance with me either.”

He sounds dangerously close to pouting when he says that last bit and you give a halfhearted twist in his hold, testing for any slack. It’s no good though. For as little effort as he seemed to be putting into it, his arms were like iron shackles where they’re criss crossed over your body. Dammit. 

“Why?” You seethe in frustration and fast mounting panic. “Why won’t you just go back to normal, Luffy? This isn’t like you!” 

His frame shakes behind you with the giggles that rise within him, making his whole body vibrate like a mercilessly shaken soda bottle. It quickly grows, rapidly multiplying and expanding until he at last throws his head back with a cackling peel of laughter aimed up at the sky. It’s much too close to your ear and deafeningly loud, reigniting your desperation to get away from him, but your wild thrashing just causes him to laugh even harder. Like he found it hilarious that you were scared and trapped against him. 

“I can’t!” He howls, belly laughing so ferociously it makes you jerk in his hold. “I can’t go back until I’ve used up all of this energy! It feels like I’m going crazy but it feels good too! Amazing even! I’ve never experienced anything like it before! I want to keep going but you can’t fight and you won’t dance with me … but there’s something else we can do together, isn’t there?” 

“What are you ta - -“

He releases you so suddenly you don’t even realize you’re crumpling to the ground until your butt has already hit the rocks, surprising a yelp out of you. Fresh pain immediately races up from your backside in a blinding starburst and you outright hiss as you gingerly start to angle yourself onto your hip in hopes of taking some of the pressure off of where it hurts the most. You don’t quite make it that far though. 

Luffy’s hands are suddenly on your shoulders, shoving you forward to sprawl out rather inelegantly on your front. He follows you down, pinning you to the destroyed ground with his body weight, and you immediately start to panic in earnest. Your captain didn’t look like much more than a lanky beanpole at first glance but he was so densely packed with muscle that he felt like a sack of bricks on top of you. It makes it hard to breathe and the quickened, gasping lungfuls of air you suck in don’t exactly help. Your chest constricts painfully tight as you struggle against him, forgetting all logic and reason in your blind desperation to get away from him. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice though, still just as unbudging sprawled out over top of you as he’d been when the two of you were standing. No amount of kicking your legs or bucking up underneath him even gives him pause, and his greedy hands fumble down to your waist where they squeeze tight enough to rip a hurt shriek from your throat. This doesn’t cut through the manic haze spurring him on either. He doesn’t even waver. 

“What are you — stop that! Have you lost your mind!” 

“I’m sorry.” He snickers, not sounding very sorry at all as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck again. Another deep, savory inhale. Another rumbling exhale right against your pulse. The faintest growl that trails afterward is new though and you go painfully still under him, hardly even daring the blink despite all the grimy dust kicked up in your desperate fight for freedom. 

You’d never, ever heard such a sound come out of him before. It scares you perhaps most of all, and you’d seen many a frightening and unsettling thing since stepping foot into Onigashima. Somehow this just really took the cake though. 

“I’m sorry,” He says it again. Contradicting this, his callous worn fingers dip into the hem of your pants and start to tug at them, jostling you with each insistent pull. “I’m sorry, heheee. I just can’t help myself. If I can’t have you I don’t know what I’ll do. You’ll help me calm down, won’t you?” 

Your mind struggles to process that. He was asking you to help him? Not with words or medicine, or even the endless supply of food he would have otherwise asked for had he been in his right mind. He wanted your body. 

So that’s what it was then. What it all boiled down to. 

If he couldn’t fight you and you refused to dance with him then that left only one other option. He was going to fuck it out of his system. Anything to get rid of all the excess energy running through his body, making him vibrate like a lit fuse on top of you. It made a certain amount of sense, you supposed, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. 

Curling your hands into tight fists against the rocks, numb to the abrasive sting, you draw a rattling breath to center yourself. It doesn’t do much in the way of good. “Please don’t do this.” 

It’s like he doesn’t even hear you, a grunt of victory puffing out of him when he finally manages to get your pants tugged down over the curve of your ass. 

“Please.” You gasp, the sound wet and faltering. 

Completely ignoring you now, Luffy reaches further down to fumble with something lower while his opposite hand possessively curls around your hip to keep you in place. You hiccup rather sadly at the distant sound of rustling clothes, almost completely lost under the violent pounding of blood in your ears, but there’s no missing the fleshy nudge against the back of your thigh that soon follows. It leaves a sticky smear where it touches you, inspiring an eruption of horrified goosebumps in its wake. 

You don’t have to look to know what’s touching you. The innate knowledge of what’s happening and who is responsible for this paralyzing fear that grips your aching heart in a chokehold is horrible and suffocating all at once. Stinging tears spring up and well in the backs of your eyes but you clench your teeth to try and stifle the terrified wail threatening to claw its way up your throat, knowing it would only sound hysterical. 

On one hand you almost couldn’t believe this was really happening, even though the reality of the situation was staring you right in the face. It just seemed almost too implausibly awful to be real. 

But on the other, Luffy wasn’t exactly known for his self control or restraint. You knew this. Had even found it charming at one point or another, so you brace yourself for the worst. It just might be the only thing that ends up saving you. 

“Captain - -“

“I’m sorry.” 

He’s suddenly between your legs, pressing up into you from behind. You go ramrod stiff against him, your whole body clenching in genuine distress, but it does very little to stop him. Like he’s done it a million times before, or perhaps thanks to the instinctive muscle memory bestowed upon every man with a working cock, he pushes right in on your entrance until cunt slips start to part under the pressure. A thin, tremulous groan escapes him at the first kiss of your hot guts against the tip and then he just keeps pushing. Even when your muscles tense up and try to keep him out. Even when he meets a great deal of resistance as your body tries its best to reject him. If anything he almost seems to take it as a challenge the same way he would another combatant or a roadblock standing between him and his goals. 

In this case his goal is clearly to sink himself in you right down to the hilt, and he just puts more effort into his cause the more you try to fight it. Leans his weight into you until it feels like your poor cunt is taking the full brunt of his mass. The resulting stretch of your inner sleeve is painful and drawn out, taking much longer than it otherwise would have had you been even slightly prepped for this. 

Your mouth hinges open but nothing comes out for a prolonged moment as the tears break loose to streak down your face. It feels like he’s tearing you in half! Either he was much bigger than you’d assumed he’d be or by virtue of how tightly your interior walls were squeezing him — or even some terrible combination of the two —  it was like you were being split down the middle. You couldn’t even breathe through the choking discomfort of it and a threadbare, sobbing little mewl dislodges from your throat when he at last manages to shove himself past that first barrier. 

Full penetration is much easier for him to achieve after that but it’s no less painful, and you cry out when he snaps his hips forward once, twice, and finally lodges his length the rest of the way in on the third. A pleased huff slips out of him as he settles on top of you, a fresh wave of giggles quickly following suit. It was like he’d gone mad. So wrapped up in the raving power that had turned his hair white that he can only laugh about it even while he’s buried balls deep in your body. 

That short lived pause is all the respite you get though and Luffy is soon moving, rutting into you with quick, sharp little jabs up into your guts. You shriek at the top of your lungs, clawing at the ground while you kick out behind you, but he ignores this the same as everything else. Lying prone and trapped under him, all you can do is take it. 

“Waah — why are you doing this, Luffy? It hurts! If … if the others find out about this - -“ 

“I know, hahaaa. I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop. You feel … this feels amazing! Almost as good as fighting Kaido did!” 

You seethe at that, trying your damndest not to get caught up on it right now but that proves to be more than a little difficult. He really didn’t see any difference between fucking and fighting? Somehow that seemed so typically him, and you think you would have probably joined him in laughing about it under better circumstances. 

But better circumstances wouldn’t have found you being roughly jostled back and forth on the ground by his eager, jack rabbit thrusts. The motion of his hips lacks any and all refinement with no technique to speak of, and yet that doesn’t stop you from seeing stars every time his cock blindly rams into your upper wall. It punches the air from your lungs and materializes out of your mouth in the form of heaving, strained bleats of distress that quickly climb to a higher and higher pitch with each second that goes by. Not for the first time today, you feel like you really might throw up. 

“Ooh, that’s …” He suddenly gasps, lets out a half strangled groan, and drives himself into you even harder. Faster. The force of his pelvis slapping against your upturned ass rapidly grows to a steady, almost constant blur of stinging swats — plap, plap, plap, plap — and you shriek at the rapidly swelling pressure on your gut. “Ooh, that’s good. That’s good! It feels so good! I - I can’t - -“ 

Without warning, your pussy abruptly floods with wet, sticky warmth. He hadn’t even given you a chance to beg for him to pull out. 

Your eyes widen to the approximate size of dinner plates but he just keeps pistoning his hips even as the rest of his shuddering frame gives a series of little jerks to thoroughly empty his balls into you. He shows no signs of slowing down or tiring any time soon though, his limitless energy evidently far outpacing his obvious lack of experience. 

It’s a hard thing to wrap your reeling head around just how quickly everything has happened and yet there’s no mistaking it for what it is. The sensation is completely foreign to you but you innately understood it for what it represented, what it could potentially mean for your future. You’re not half as relieved to have it done and over with as you are terrified of what it meant. 

Even more confounding, however, is that it doesn’t so much as make Luffy slow down let alone stop now that he’s painted your inner sleeve a thick, creamy white. Not the orgasm itself which, considering how much he fills you up, should have thoroughly drained him for the time being, nor the possible repercussions of allowing himself to shoot off inside of you like that. He just keeps going without a care in the world, like it wasn’t his problem and he still had more than enough stamina to keep up the harried pace he’d settled into for the foreseeable future. The only sign of it burning up any of his energy at all is the slightly labored quality his breathing takes on, but that’s it. 

Realizing that this ordeal is still far from over, you give your body a twist and try to angle your cunt away from the constant attack of his cock. “H - hold on a minute, what … aagghhh, what are you doing, Luffy? You - - you can’t just cum inside like that, you idiot!” 

“Can’t stop! Heheehe, I can’t, I can’t, not when you keep squeezing me like that!” 

All but wheezing at the intense pleasure of thrusting into the sticky mess he’s made of you, Luffy presses himself flush against your sweaty back and circles his arms around your middle. You brace to shove him off, or at least try to, but you don’t quite make it that far. 

Catching you completely off guard, he yanks you up against him and practically throws himself back onto the ground. The sudden lurch lodges your stomach in your throat, and you let out a frazzled scream as you land on top of him. That he cushions the impact with his rubbery body only comes as a slight relief when you were struggling just to get your bearings straight, disoriented and stunned in the aftermath of his impulsive decision when you unexpectedly find yourself blinking up at the sky. 

You start to pull yourself upright, wincing, only to quickly realize he’s still got one arm looped around your waist to keep you held in place on top of him. The other is — you gasp when you glance down to see him already fisting his cock in hand, guiding it back to your entrance where it had slipped out in that rush of movement. It’s still achingly stiff and unrelenting, like he hadn’t already spilled his seed in you only moments ago, and your heart painfully wrenches with the fresh wave of dread that comes over you. 

“W - wait, please don’t - -“

The head of him finds your cunt, pressing back up into you again, and you outright sob when he mercilessly snaps his hips to impale you on that stiff length once more. You sway unsteadily at the fresh stretch, trying to decide if it’s better or worse in this position, but gravity soon proves itself your enemy when the weight of you on top of him firmly sinks his cock even further into you than before. It feels like he’s tickling at your ribcage like this, but all you can do is give a wounded little mewl and try to steady yourself. Undaunted, he reaches up to tug your pants the rest of the way off. 

“Luffy,” Sniffling sadly, you fight him as much as you can in your physically exhausted state but it’s no use. Your bottoms come off to leave you bare and exposed from the waist down, sitting upon his cock like a whore on her rightful throne. 

The tears quickly start up again, streaking hot tracks down your flushed, sweaty face while he gets himself situated underneath you. His hips lift, nudging you just a pinch higher so he can brace his feet underneath him while his hands come around to anchor around your love handles. Then, he’s moving again. 

Completely unconcerned by your crying, Luffy flexes his legs to thrust up into you and the same fleshy slap as before quickly rises loud in the air again. Plap, plap, plap, plap. The wet squelch of your seeded cunt sucking him in deep on every upward plunge joins in, adding to the obscene cacophony of noises even as you toss your head back to sob at the sky. You can hear him grunting underneath you, clearly enjoying himself quite a bit, but you couldn’t say the same. Your body was already a sore, achy mess of bruises and scrapes, and this certainly wasn’t helping. You were just getting more and more tired by the minute. 

“Nnghhnnn, please, captain. Please don’t cum inside again, I … I’m begging you!” 

The only response he gives is a low, rumbling groan that seems to bleed into you and reverberate endlessly inside your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together as if to block him out. But of course it doesn’t work. Given the way he stutters over a raspy hiss of your name he actually seems to like the way it makes your walls tighten around him, unintentionally though it may have been. There was really nothing you could have done to dissuade or stop him once he’d set his mind to something, and it seemed he very adamantly had his sights set on using your cunt until his energy reserves finally wore out. 

Distantly, you wonder how long that will actually take. 

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” He chants underneath you, again and again, even when his hands tighten around your hips to guide you into bouncing right along with him. Having no other choice, you snifflingly spread your legs wide and brace your feet on the ground, moving with him despite the throbbing ache in your muscles. “Mine, mine, mine. My prize. My treasure. My woman!” 

He viciously slams his pelvis up at the end, further punctuating his claim on you, and the sharp stab of his cock rips a wild shriek from your mouth. “N - no, captain, please! I can’t — I don’t want it! Not like this! You’re not … aaghnn, you’re not Luffy! You’re not!” 

The only response he gives is a deranged little laugh that makes his cock jump where it’s wedged inside you. That push on your upper wall makes the tension running through you double and then triple, your heaving gasps coming a little quicker now even as his hands travel up your body. You can’t stop him like this when your own were propped behind you along his flexing stomach to help you maintain your balance in this precarious position. It’s not hard to figure out what his intentions are though, and you screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to watch him grab hold of your top. 

A deafening riiiip tears through the air when he shreds it, the poor cotton helpless before his far greater strength. He leaves it hanging from your shoulders in tattered pieces as your tits bounce free, the stiffened tips already aching and strained long before he greedily palms at them like a starved man clutching at a lifeline. The blinding friction of his calloused palms and fingers on your teats makes your cunt spasm around him and you wail, screaming for someone, anyone to save you from your captain. 

Unfortunately for you, help was still a long ways off and Luffy wasn’t even close to running out of steam.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[lushrue]

frozen hearts pt 8

simon gets his time in the spotlight! just a heads up, updates may slow down a little bit more since my semester starts next week, but i'm gonna try my best to stay consistent! feel free to send asks in between chapters if you want more of these boys!

cw: angst (if you squint), simon's got issues

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, keep pushing, 4, 3, almost there, 1.

simon groaned as he re-racked the barbell, wiping some sweat from his forehead and sitting up on the bench. these morning workouts were sacred to him. they were a chance for him to clear his head, think about nothing for a little while. with the heavy metal blasting in his ears, there was nothing else to worry about. except today, it wasn’t working quite as well as usual.

“struggled a bit at the end there.” price’s voice came from behind him. john was his dedicated spotter, always hovering right behind him. simon hadn’t been able to convince him he didn’t need one, not after he got lost in his head once and nearly crushed himself under the weight of his worries and the metal bar. he grunted in reply, grabbing his water from where it sat beside the bench. “jus’ havin’ an off mornin’,” he muttered, taking a swig from the bottle. as open and honest with john as he was, he didn’t want to admit just what had thrown him off.

it was you. beautiful, irresistible you that he got to have all to himself tonight. his thoughts hadn’t stopped since he sent you that text, all but demanding you go on a date with him. he’d never considered himself as having a felicity of expression, but that had felt more brutish than his usual offhand comment to you. he’d agonized over that text for hours, writing and rewriting and asking kyle for advice and then rewriting again. it still hadn’t quite come out how he’d wanted it. you’d responded favorably enough in your usual cheery manner, but he couldn’t help but worry about what your true thoughts were. did you hate him? did you think he was an ass for being so direct? or did you like the more direct approach? do you want to be with everyone else and not him?

the truth was, he wasn’t sure if he deserved you. he’d had to overcome that roadblock with all three of his men, placing trust in them that made his skin crawl to think about. his bloody, beating heart laid in all of their hands. he was just lending it to them for a while. it had taken him so long to give them that privilege and they’d always treated it with the reverence and care it deserved. simon wasn’t ready to hand himself over to you like that just yet and tonight would be the most vulnerable he’d ever been with you. it had kept him tossing and turning all night, eyes red-rimmed and bleary when johnny rose to kiss him good morning. price had tried to convince him to take his workout easy today, the exhaustion hanging heavy on his bones like a winter coat that was two sizes too big. pushing himself felt good, though. if he pushed himself, he could focus on the ache in his muscles rather than the tightness in his chest.

john walked around the bench, kneeling in front of simon and placing a gentle hand on his knee. price knew him best, knew what he’d been through better than anyone. they were the original two, together longer than johnny and kyle had even known them. while simon revealed pieces of himself to his partners in his own time, john had the full puzzle, a mismatched mosaic of loss and pain and suffering. simon flinched at the touch, his eyes darting from a speck of protein bar on the floor to his lover. he cleared his throat, running a hand over his face. “‘m fine,” he murmured, setting his water bottle back down. his fingers were stiff from how tight he’d been holding it.

john shook his head, raising a hand to hold simon’s chin. “y’r not,” he replied, his tone even and matter-of-fact. he’d learned early on that simon wouldn’t suffer anyone’s pity. “our li’l skater gotcha all out of sorts, hmm?” he huffed, almost frustrated that john could read him so easily. that was all the answer price needed, nudging simon’s thigh to get him to make room on the bench. he sat down beside him, keeping a grounding hand on simon’s arm. touch from a trusted person helped, he’d found. “they already like you, simon. they wouldn’t have agreed to any of this if they didn’t.” 

there was that pesky trust again. john couldn’t truly know what you were thinking, so simon just had to trust his assessment of the situation. sometimes he wished he was a mind reader. it would take so much of the guesswork out of it. no chance to fail, no chance to get it wrong. “yeah,” simon muttered, resting his arms on his thighs and clenching his hands together. “‘m tryin’ to believe tha’.” a long moment of silence passed. john sat patiently, his eyes trained on the sweaty man beside him. simon would speak in his own time, once he gathered his thoughts and translated from his own internal language to something others would understand. 

“i wan’ to be with ‘em,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “haven’ liked anyone this much since kyle. they’re…” he hesitated, his voice trailing off as his mind started working again. “they’re lovely and beautiful and so fuckin’ kind. don’ wanna fuck it up.” john reached down and grabbed his phone, turning off the music and letting silence fall over the gym. iron maiden didn’t feel like the appropriate backdrop for this conversation. “you did jus’ fine when we were courtin’ kyle,” john said, squeezing simon’s bicep. simon scoffed in response, his knuckles turning white under the force of his grip. he remembered the same sleepless nights and paralyzing worry, the fear that he’d have to watch his partners love a man that didn’t love him in return. wouldn’t call that “jus’ fine”, he thought.

“you did,” john insisted, tilting his head so that he could look simon in the eye. “you migh’ not believe it,” he started, “but y’r a pretty handsome bastard.” simon blushed at that, running a hand through his damp blond curls. “y’r funny when you wanna be. made me laugh within a minute of meetin’ ya. and y’r gentle. off the ice, anyway.” john let out a laugh, taking simon’s hands in his and stroking over his knuckles. “you don’ have to tell ‘em everything, si.” simon raised his head, looking at john. he hadn’t intended to tell you anything yet, didn’t want to scare you off, but it felt better to hear someone say it. it felt like permission. “jus’ give ‘em a little bit, yeah? show ‘em there’s a heart under all tha’ muscle.”

at that, simon chuckled, the tightness in his throat easing until swallowing felt like less of a chore. “yeah. think i can do tha’.”

you put your car into park and cut the engine, slinging your skating bag over your shoulder. you’d almost been surprised when simon asked to meet you at the rink. everyone else so far had taken you somewhere that had nothing to do with your sport. something besides the ice. that’s what johnny had said that night at the bar, and they’d seemed to take it seriously. this was simon’s element, though. this was where he felt most comfortable, where he seemed the most himself. you wondered what it was exactly about skating that loosened him up. when he was on the ice, he didn’t seem to care about how much space he took up or how other people perceived him. he had a role to play, and he played it well.

you stepped into the building, the cold air hitting you and making you shiver. the temperature change always sent a shock through your system no matter how much you tried to brace yourself. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you walked through the doors to the rink. the benches were empty, devoid of the crowds that usually flocked for free skate in the evenings. the only sound was simon’s skates scraping against the ice as he skated up and down the length of the rink. as you took a seat on one of the benches, pulling off your boots and changing your socks, you could see the glint of a rough-hewn figure eight on the surface of the ice. it looked like it’d been passed over many times, simon’s version of pacing on skates. you waved to catch his eye, and he gave you a nod as he passed you.

he finished his rotation before skating to the edge, leaning against the wall in front of where you sat. “get here alrigh’?” he asked, resting his arms on the ledge. you nod, pulling your skates on and starting to lace them up. “yeah, it’s always a pleasant drive.” the small talk felt stale with simon, completely different from johnny and kyle. it didn’t come naturally to him, which made you draw into yourself a bit. interacting with simon alone had always been a bit difficult for you because of how closed off he was. he didn’t share as freely as the others did; you knew nothing about his family or childhood, only that he grew up in manchester. you weren’t even sure you knew his favorite color. simon seemed to notice your hesitance and stiffened up, shifting on his feet and staring down at the ice.

as you pulled the guards off of your skates and moved to step onto the ice, simon held up a hand to stop you. “grab us a couple of sticks first,” he said, motioning to the tub of equipment that sat beside the hockey benches. you looked at the sticks, then at him, slowly putting the pieces together. “you’re gonna make me play hockey, aren’t you?” you asked, a small smile on your face. he shrugged, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “nah, thought we’d toss the sticks ‘cross the ice ‘n see how far we can get ‘em to slide.” you snort, shaking your head in amusement as you step over and grab two sticks. with your back turned, you missed the way simon smiled at your laughter.

you grab the one that was wrapped in his tape color, a dark purple that suited his personality perfectly. you pull out one without tape for yourself, stepping onto the ice and passing him his stick. “i’ll warn you, i’m much better suited to figure skating,” you said, brushing the stick across the ice to get a feel for it. simon hummed thoughtfully, turning his stick in his hand and leaning against it. he could only imagine what you’d look like swallowed up by all the pads and gear. a more possessive part of him envisioned you wearing his jersey, cheering all of them on from the stands. he swallowed down the thought, turning his focus back to the matter at hand. “‘m sure you’ll be great,” he said, skating closer to you.

you smile up at him, mischief in your eyes. he knew that look well, had seen it on johnny so many times when his partner was going to ask him to do something outside his comfort zone. he froze, cocking an eyebrow at you. “i’ll do this on one condition,” you say, flipping the stick over in your hands. simon scoffed, shaking his head. “you been this pushy on all y’r dates, lovie?” he asked in amusement. you laugh, the sound echoing in the empty rink. “no, i saved this all for you,” you joke, the interactions feeling easier the longer you stood there. “if you’re gonna teach me hockey stuff, i get to teach you some figure skating stuff too.”

simon hesitated, his eyes widening a little bit. he wasn’t graceful like you. he was all hard muscle, built for speed and physicality. he’d trained his body to be a wall, an immovable object that he could throw in between his teammate and an opponent. walls couldn’t figure skate. still, john had urged him to give into you. show a bit of vulnerability, give as much as he was comfortable giving. while the idea wasn’t entirely appealing, the smile on your face was too convincing. “fine,” he grunted, which made you smile wider. “but i go first, yeah? i’m runnin’ this show, after all.” you nod your head, bowing in acquiescence. “whatever you wish.”

he couldn’t help the soft smile that curled the corners of his lips. you were so easy, just like johnny. he could get used to you. he skated behind you, tucking his stick under his arm. “first things first, you gotta know how to hold the stick,” he said, grabbing your elbows and tilting your arms to position the stick against the ice. his hands slid down your arms to your hands, making you shiver. goosebumps followed his touch, both from the temperature of his fingers and the proximity of him. none of them had gotten this close to you on your dates. “ya righ’-handed or left-handed?” he asked, and you hold up your right hand. he shifted it towards the top of the stick, putting your left hand lower down.

“this one’s y’r control hand,” he said, covering his right hand with yours. you hadn’t realized until now how much bigger he was than you. “it’s the one that’s gonna keep the stick steady ‘n guide it where you wan’ it to go.” he repositioned your left hand, loosening your grip. “you wanna keep this hand loose. needs to be flexible so you can move the puck around better.” he skated back, giving you some space. you moved the stick across the ice again, feeling the difference in how easily you could maneuver. simon smiled, a hint of pride flickering across his face. he’d never considered himself a particularly good teacher, but you were certainly proving to be a receptive student.

as you got a feel for the new grip on the stick, he grabbed a puck from the wall, tossing it down on the ice. he nudged it over to you, adjusting his own grip and leaning forward a little. “hit it to me,” he said, his eyes shifting between you and the puck. you turn towards him, flexing your fingers and tapping the puck with your stick. it glided over to simon, who hit it back to you. you smiled as the two of you passed the slab of rubber back and forth. it reminded you of the games you’d play with your friends as a kid, hitting a balloon back and forth to see how long you could keep it in the air.

“y’r a natural,” he said, so softly you almost missed it. when you passed the puck back to him, he kept it, controlling it with surprising ease as he skated towards the blue line. you followed, watching as he positioned the puck for you. “wanna try ‘n shoot?” he asked, flashing you an amused smirk. you nod and he beckons you over, holding your hips to position you. despite the cold, heat flares up under his fingertips. your body feels warm, cheeks heating up as you take in his proximity. standing there in that moment, you realize that you quite like his touch. he’d barely so much as brushed fingers with you up until now.

it took a moment for you to realize that he’d been speaking to you, coaching you on how to execute a slapshot. you blink as you look back at him, a slightly dazed look on your face. he stopped speaking, taking in your expression before scoffing. “weren’t listenin’, were ya?” sheepishly, you shake your head. even though you know you have nothing to fear from him, he’s still intimidating at the end of the day. he’s big, broad, tall. you’re sure he could bench your weight on the worst day. instead of the scolding you expected, he just smiles in that non-commital way he does. “alright, i’ll say it again. but pay attention this time, yeah?” you nod, letting him coach you through it.

it took you many, many unsuccessful attempts. your shots were too wide, or too slow, or your grip wasn’t right. watching the puck soar over the net, you were almost beginning to think you’d never get it right. but then it happened. your momentum was just right, your swing had just enough power, and the puck hit the back of the net with a satisfying thwack. you squeal in delight, beaming with pride and excitement as you look up at simon. to your surprise, he’s looking right at you. has been the whole time, really. he could watch a puck soar through the air any night he wanted. it wasn’t every day that it was you hitting it. “perfect shot,” he praised, a brightness in his eyes that you were unfamiliar with. “if there was a goalie there, ya woulda blown a hole right through ‘em.”

you weren’t sure you entirely believed him, but it felt good to hear nonetheless. there’s a moment of awkwardness between you. if you were closer with him, the slot would’ve been filled by a hug or some kind of tender affection. simon shifted on his skates as if considering his next move. you tried not to be startled when he held his fist out to you. you’d seen price do the same to the boys when they scored a goal. it made your chest warm, made you feel like you were part of their world. you smile wide as you bump your fist against his.

the two of you take a few more shots at the net before you insist on switching gears. you were far too eager to show simon some of your tricks and feel the pride of successful teaching. simon grumbled a little as he put away the gear, but inside, he was bristling with excitement. this was intimacy and closeness that didn’t require vulnerability. sure, there was always the fear of falling on his ass, but it was just you. no one was watching, no one was judging. it was part of the reason he’d bought out the rink for the night. all that hockey money had to go somewhere.

you anxiously pick at the ice with the toe of your skate, practically vibrating as he skated back over to you. “this is gonna be so fun,” you say, almost like a promise. simon raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was unconvinced, and you smack him playfully. “i went along with your hockey stuff, so now, you have to go along with my stuff. deal?” begrudgingly, he nods and you clap your hands, unable to contain the energy. you grab his hand and pull him back towards the blue line, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. “i won’t make you do anything crazy. just some simple stuff, okay?” he nods again and you take up your place on the line beside him. “okay…um, crossovers. i don’t think you do those a lot in hockey,” you say, almost as if you’re talking to yourself.

“just step and cross your feet along the line first so you know how it feels. use the inside edge of one skate and the outside edge of another.” you demonstrate first, eyes trained on your feet. you’re reminded of being a little girl, taking lessons from your coach and learning your basic skills. it’d been a long time since you’d broken them down like this. simon’s first steps are unsteady, unused to using his skates like this. it didn’t help that hockey skates weren’t exactly built for the same delicacy that figure skates were, but you were both making do. eventually, though, he’s moving at your pace, watching his feet more often instead of yours.

“good, that’s great,” you praise. he seems to blossom, opening up to reveal a soft center the more he spends time with you. the small glimpses you’ve gotten up till now have been beautiful; what would it look like when his walls were completely torn down? before you can think any longer on it, you take his hand again and skate with him to the center face-off circle. “now we’ll try it moving. think you got it?” simon laughs, letting himself drift slowly around the circle. “i didn’t learn to skate yesterday, lovie. think i c’n handle myself, yeah?” he stares down at his feet and starts to skate around the circle. 

you stand in the center and watch, a hand on your mouth stifling your laughter. he’s crossing his feet over, but barely. he’s skating like a hockey player. you suppose you can’t be too surprised; it’s in his nature, it’s what he knows. but it lacks the grace, the gentleness of what figure skating is supposed to be. he catches you out of the corner of his eye and stops, shrugging his shoulders. “wha’? though’ i was doin’ a fine job.” you laugh at that, skating closer to him. “you were, simon. it’s just that…it wasn’t very delicate.” he scoffs, crossing his arms defensively. “y’seen me? not exactly delicate, am I?”

you have to concede, he’s not the most dainty thing on the surface. “figure skaters don’t have to be,” you counter, skating around the circle to demonstrate. you lift your leg as you push off and switch your weight, every move a delicate balance between your upward force and gravity’s downward one. you’re pushing just enough to propel yourself forward, to lift your leg from the surface of the ice, but letting gravity do enough work that your leg rises slowly. it looks effortless when you do it, simon thinks. it’s like you were built for it, hand-sculpted by God for the purpose of creating beauty for people to enjoy.

you stop yourself, using the leftover momentum to skate back around to him. “you just have to move like you are. pretend you’re floating on air. imagine how weightless you’d feel.” simon wasn’t sure it made sense to him. a person couldn’t be weightless. but for you, he’d humor the thought. he started to skate around the circle again, this time with you following him. he closed his eyes, drifting off and pretending to be a cloud. it was hard to see himself as some white, fluffy, soft thing. he was anything but, all hard corners and jagged edges. still, you watched breathlessly as he began to glide across the ice, like his skates were barely touching the surface. you skated around with him like that for a while, watching the weight seem to lift off his shoulders. you’d never realized until now how world-weary he looked.

when he opened his eyes, he was met with your smiling face and your hand in his. and to his surprise, he smiled back.

simon walked you out to your car with a bit of a limp. you’d tried to teach him how to spin, which had resulted in many spills on the ice. you were sure his hip would be black and blue in the morning, but not once had he complained. there was laughter, levity, lightness that you hadn’t felt from him before. he always seemed to hang over the rest of the group like a distant stormcloud, not unsettled enough to rain thunder and lightning down but plenty darker than the rest of the group. you’d managed to bring out some new side of him, something that he’d never let you see before. it felt like the keys to the kingdom.

you place your hand on your door, turning to simon with a smile on your face. you’d both exhausted yourselves, but somehow you felt you could go for hours more. “it was really nice skating with you,” you said, clutching your coat a bit closer to your body. the winter air was brisk, and part of you was glad the season was coming to an end. “i had a lot of fun.” simon nodded to you, keeping a respectful distance just like the others had. “yeah, thanks f’r teachin’ me how to figure skate,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “think i still prefer watchin’ you.” you laugh at that, a bit of humility bubbling in your chest.

the two of you seem to hesitate again, caught in another awkward moment. you’re waiting for him to move, and he’s uncertain of you. he’d heard johnny and kyle talk about kissing you. your lips were soft, you tasted sweet, your body melted so deliciously against theirs. his hands balled up in his pockets, flicking his gaze down from your eyes to your mouth. he could imagine the feeling. you swore he was leaning in, and you leaned in too, but he pulled back. you tried not to be hurt by it, but the way he looked at you proved that your face wasn’t as good at hiding it. he cleared his throat, turning toward his car across the parking lot. “text me when you make it home, lovie,” he said, giving you an almost apologetic wave.

you murmur a goodbye and wave back, climbing into your car and the blessed warmth of your heater. he hadn’t kissed you. the others had all kissed you, but simon hadn’t. it made you worry. perhaps he didn’t like you. perhaps he was just doing this because the others were. you tried not to think too deeply about it as you shifted your car into reverse and pulled out of the lot. simon watched you go, his phone held to his ear as it rang. his chest felt heavy, regret seeping in. “simon?” john’s voice crackled through the phone speaker. “couldn’t do it, john,” simon said, his voice soft and melancholy. price let out a sigh. simon could almost hear the way his eyes crinkled at the edges, a sad grimace on his features that only came out for his longtime partner. “come ‘ome, si. we got takeout.”

simon pulled out of the parking lot, watching your tail lights disappear down the road before turning towards home.

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew @kaoyamamegami @lolly145 @linaangel @bestbookfriends @callsignang3l @livingoutsidethetardis @msecho19 @aylitgirl @vvs-dlxodyd @bollzinurmouth

[winchesterwild78]

The Tutor

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too bad yet, just a chapter to establish the story. Some language and some physical grabbing.

**Trigger Warning: Some of this chapter could be considered Domestic Violence. It’s grabbing an arm, and being controlling.**

A/N: Just a quick idea that popped in my head. A short series, maybe 2 or 3 chapters. I don’t know yet. No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction. Jensen has children in this, but I do not use their real names. 

Reader is a teacher and is asked to tutor Jensen’s child. Things develop between Jensen and the reader. I do not condone cheating, again, this is a work of fiction.

This chapter got a little long. Sorry not sorry. 😀

Minors DNI 18+

It was about 5 am when your alarm went off. You rolled over, grumbled and turned it off. Your husband was still sleeping next to you. Crawling out of bed you went to your bathroom and jumped in the shower. 

About 15 minutes later you were dressed and ready for work. You’d been a teacher for about 10 years, and you loved every second of it. Your husband encouraged you to expand your talent and offer tutoring in the afternoons as a way to help save money for the summer months when you didn’t get paid. 

You talked to the principal of your school and she told you she’d put out feelers to see if anyone had a lead on a possible need for a tutor. 

Grabbing your coffee, lunch and bag you headed for your car. It was a chilly morning, but you welcomed the change in temperature. As you pulled in the parking lot to the school, you noticed you were one of the first ones there. 

You sighed, gathered your things and got out of your car. As you walked in the building you saw the principal was in her office already. “Hey, Y/N, hold on a second.” You walked to her office door and waited for her to get off the phone.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m glad I caught you. So I talked to a friend of mine and she said she knows a couple who is looking for a tutor for their children. They have 3 kids, an older daughter, and a set of twins, a boy and a girl. The mother is out of town, but the father wanted to come in and see you in action and then sit down with you. Is that okay with you?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine. Is he coming in today?” “Yes, if you were okay with it he wanted to come in today. If they decided to go with you, they’d want you to start ASAP.”

“Um, okay. Yeah. That’s fine. Hopefully it doesn’t distract my kiddos, but sure. Tell him to come by whenever.” “Great! I’ll give him a call.” You nodded and walked to your classroom.

Before the kids arrived, you sent your husband a text.

You: Hey, I might have a potential tutoring gig. Ms Smith is having a dad come in today. He and his wife wanted to see me in action. I’d be tutoring their three kids. I’ll let you know how it goes. I love you, babe.

Hubby: That’s great, you sure three kids won’t be too much? I love you too.

You: 3 kids? I teach 22 kids all day. I think I can handle 3.

Hubby: Yeah, you’re right. 

You finished getting things ready for the day as the kids started to arrive. “Good morning Ms Y/L/N!” The kids greeted you as they came into the room. “Good morning everyone.” 

Once the students got settled you called them to sit on the carpet to talk about today and how there might be a visitor. They were excited. You taught 5 & 6 year olds, so anytime there was a visitor it was always a big deal. 

“Now I want you all to be on your best behavior, and if we have a visitor I want you to do your best to ignore them, okay?” The kids nodded in agreement. 

A few hours later you were reading a book to your students when you heard your classroom door open. Glancing over you saw the principal and a man walk in. You kept teaching, not paying attention to the people in the room. 

When you read books, you are very animated. The kids would giggle and were completely engaged. At the end of your story you asked questions and called on some students to answer. A few minutes later you had them go back to their desks to complete the writing assignment you had given them. 

As you walked around checking their writing the principal approached you. “Ms Y/L/N, this is Mr Ackles. Mr Ackles, this is Ms. Y/L/N, our favorite Kindergarten teacher.” Your eyes went wide. Standing in your classroom was Jensen Ackles. His green eyes sparkling like emeralds under the fluorescent lights, his sandy brown hair perfectly styled, and he smelled like heaven. 

He extended his hand to shake yours. “Hello Ms Y/L/N, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” You took his hand in yours and your breath hitched. You knew who he was, you’d been a fan for years. “Nice to meet you too, Mr Ackles. I look forward to speaking with you more about the tutoring needs of your children.” 

He smiled and nodded. The two of you couldn’t tear your eyes away from each other. You unconsciously bit your lip. The sound of a little voice pulled you two out of your trance. “Ms Y/L/N, is this right?” One of your students came up with her paper for you to check. “So what should this sentence start with?” Her bright eyes looking at you and then down at her paper, “Um, oh a capital.” You smiled and nodded.

She went back to her seat and fixed her paper. “Okay guys, remember to capitalize, and illustrate your writing. Don’t forget your setting and color.”

Your principal came up to you, “We are going to head out, I’ll give Mr. Ackles your number so you two can set up a meeting.” You nodded and thanked them, then they left.

Your heart was still pounding in your chest and you felt a warmth fill your body. Girl, get it together. He’s way out of your league, both of you are married, and you might be tutoring his children. This is just a celebrity crush. Keep it professional. 

The end of the day came quickly. You were cleaning up your classroom when you heard a knock on your classroom door. Looking up you saw Jensen. Your breath caught in your throat. “Excuse me Ms Y/L/N, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” “Oh no, I’m just cleaning up before heading home. How can I help you Mr Ackles?” 

“Well I really liked what I saw today. You were engaging and gentle but you can see your students know your expectations. I’d like to offer you the tutoring job if you’d like it.” “Oh, of course. May I meet your children before I officially start? This won’t work if the kids don’t like me.” 

Jensen smiled and nodded. “I’ll text you my address and you’re welcome to come by this afternoon.” “Sure, that would be great. I can’t wait to meet them and your wife.” You smiled. “Well, she’s out of town right now, so that will have to wait.” “Okay. If you need to wait for her, that's fine. I want her to be fine with me tutoring the kids too.” “Nope, this was something we’d talked about before she left, and she knew I was going to hire someone as soon as I could.”

“Okay, great. I’ll come by this afternoon then. I’ll see you later Mr Ackles.” “Jensen, please call me Jensen.” “Jensen, then. Feel free to call me Y/N.” He smiled and so did you. When he left you pulled out your phone to text your husband.

You: Hey, heading to meet the kids I might be tutoring. The dad asked me to come by this afternoon.

Hubby: Okay, I’ll see you at home later then. Love you

You: I love you too. 

You set your phone down and finished cleaning. A few minutes later your phone went off.

Unknown: Hey, Y/N. This is Jensen. My address is 123 E Main Street. Can’t wait for the kids to meet you.

You: Hey, Jensen. I can’t wait to meet them either. I’ll be there in about 20 minutes. Just finishing up here. 

Jensen: Great! See you then.

You finished what you were doing and grabbed your stuff heading out of the school. Driving to Jensen’s house you were nervous but excited. You’d tutored before, but never for a celebrity and definitely not for someone you had been crushing on for decades. 

Pulling down the long driveway you were in awe at the spacious home that stood before you. Putting your car in park, you grabbed your bag and got out. 

Before you could knock on the door it opened and Jensen greeted you with a smile. “Hey, Y/N, glad you could make it.” “Hello, Mr. Ackles, thank you for having me.” “Please, call me Jensen.” You nodded and smiled, “Okay, Jensen.” 

He welcomed you into his spacious home and led you to the living room. “Please have a seat, and I’ll get the kids down here. Would you like anything to drink? Tea, water?” “Um, sure, I’ll have water if you don’t mind.” “Sure thing. I’ll grab it and the kids.”

You sat on the couch as Jensen left the room. You heard him calling the kids and the sound of feet on the stairs. 

Jensen and the kids came back to the room. He handed you the water. “Thank you.” He nodded and smiled. “Kids, this is Ms Y/L/N, she’s going to be your tutor. Ms Y/L/N, this is my oldest, Annie, and the twins, Jessica and Jensen Jr., we call him Jr.” “Hi guys, it’s nice to finally meet you three.” “Hello Ms Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you too.” Jensen’s son walked over and sat next to you, “Are you married? Do you have any kids?” “Yes I am married, and no I don’t have any children yet. I’m a teacher so my students are like my kids right now.” 

The five of you sat in the living room talking and getting to know each other. After the kids got tired of talking and asking you questions, they left the room. Leaving you and Jensen alone. “So, Y/N, what do you think? Think you can handle them?” You smiled and nodded, “Yes. They seem really sweet, I’d be just fine with them.” 

“Well, all that’s left is to talk about schedule, pay, and the NDA. The NDA is to protect everyone involved. You’re more than welcome to contact an attorney to look it over.” You smiled and nodded. About 45 minutes later you and Jensen had talked about your schedule, the pay and he’d given you the NDA.

“So, Y/N, do you have any additional questions for me?” “Yes, when will your wife be back, I’d love to meet her too.” “She won’t be back for a few weeks, but you’ll get to meet her when she returns.” You nodded and stood, “Well, Jensen I better leave you to it. I need to get home anyway. I have some things to do for work.” “Of course, well thank you again for coming by this evening. Let me walk you out.” 

The two of you walked towards the door. “Thank you again, Y/N for agreeing to take this job. We’ve interviewed so many people and they couldn’t get past my status to focus on the kids.” “If I’m being honest Jensen, I’ve been a fan of yours for years, but I promise that will not interfere with my job.” Jensen stepped a little closer to you, and your heart beat faster, “I’m glad. I think this is going to work out for everyone.” A blush filled your cheeks and you bit your lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jensen. Please tell the kids goodbye.” He nodded as you stepped out of the house.

Getting into your car, you let out the breath you’d been holding. Driving home you couldn’t focus on anything but how gorgeous Jensen looked. Stop it girl! You work for him now. If you can’t stop these thoughts there is no way you’re going to be able to work for him. Your focus should be on his children. Both of you are married, and his wife is absolutely gorgeous. 

About a half hour later you were pulling in your driveway. Your husband was already home. Walking in the house you announced you were home, “Honey I’m home.” Your husband, Jeff, came around the corner and pulled you into a hug and a kiss. 

“How was the meeting with the family?” He asked as he pulled back. “It was great. The kids are so sweet. The wife is out of town and the dad is super nice too. There is a little problem. Well, not really a problem, but something I need to tell you.” “Okay, babe, is everything okay?” “Yeah, so the dad asked me to sign an NDA.” Your husband laughed, “Why is he a secret service agent or a celebrity?” You got a serious look on your face and your husband’s laughter died down. “What? Is he really?” “He and his wife are celebrities. It’s Jensen Ackles.”

Your husband pulled away and looked at you in surprise. He knew how much you liked Jensen and how much of a fan you’d been. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with you working for him.” You looked at him confused, “What? Why not?” “Oh I don’t know, maybe because you’ve had the hots for him for years.” 

“Jeff, come on, really? I have no interest in him. I love you and I’m married to you. This is a job to help bring in more income for us. Besides, the pay is incredible. I tried to negotiate because I felt it was too much, but he insisted. We’d make enough in two months to pay off our credit cards.” 

Your husband’s jaw tightened, “I don’t care. I forbid you to take this job!” “I’m sorry, what? You forbid me?!? What the hell is wrong with you?” He stepped closer to you, “You heard me. You can’t take the job.” You scoffed and walked away. Jeff grabbed your arm, “Don’t fucking walk away from me!” “Let me go Jeff!” You pulled your arm away and walked to your shared room, locking the door behind you.

You sat on your bed and cried. How could he act like this? You two had been married for years and never had you given him a reason to doubt your loyalty. He’d never grabbed you before and you would never let him do it again. 

You pulled out your phone and sent a text to your best friend.

You: Hey, can I come crash at your place for a bit. Jeff and I had a bad fight. I don’t want to be here right now.

Y/B/F: Absolutely. Are you okay? Do you need me and hubby to come over?

You: Yeah, I’m okay. No, I’ll be okay. I’ll call if I need you.

Y/B/F: Okay babes, see you soon.

You grabbed your suitcase and put some work clothes and casual clothes in it. You grabbed your toiletries and other things you needed. As you walked out into the living room Jeff was sitting on the couch. You could see he was still pissed. “Have you come to your senses, Y/N?” “Yes I have, I’m going to Y/B/F’s house until I figure things out. You will NEVER put your hands on me again!” 

He stood and your heart beat fast. As he walked closer to you, you could see the rage in his face. You had been with him for years and you had never seen him like this, you were scared. 

Jeff stepped closer to you, mere inches from your face, “That’s right, go run to her house and go be his whore.” You didn’t say anything. You grabbed your bags and left. 

Driving down the road the tears started to fall. How could he act like this over a simple job? Why was he so jealous over Jensen? Sure you liked him, but you would never act on those feelings.

Pulling into your friend’s driveway you saw her open the door before you got out of the car. She ran up to you and threw her arms around you. “Oh sweetie, what happened?” She saw your tear stained face. “I told him about the tutoring job I took and he lost it. Told me I couldn’t take it and then he grabbed my arm. When I told him I was leaving he told me to go be the dad’s whore. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” 

“Let’s get you inside, eat and I’ll open a bottle of wine. Then we can talk.” You nodded and grabbed your things. Her husband walked over and gave you a big hug, “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’m gonna head out so you girls can chat. Enjoy dinner.” He placed a kiss on your head before heading out the door. 

Y/F/N and you grabbed the food, and wine and sat down in the living room. “So why would he get so pissed about a tutoring job?” “Well the dad asked me to sign an NDA, he’s a celebrity. I guess Jeff thought I’d sleep with the dad or something. I just don’t understand.” “Oooh who is it?” “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. Maybe I can ask if I can tell you, but I want to respect his privacy.” “I get it, but Jeff still shouldn’t have gotten pissed about it. Sounds like he’s got something to hide honestly.”

You hadn’t thought about that before, but now you couldn’t get it out of your head. Maybe he was the one cheating on you and was projecting. “Well even if he is, I don’t think I can go back to him. After he put his hands on me and the way he tried to intimidate me before I left. I can’t live with that fear.” “You are welcome to stay here as long as you want. We’ve got you girl, and don’t worry he won’t get near you here.”

*Time Jump 3 months*

“Okay guys, let’s get up and stretch for a bit. We’ve been working hard. Who wants to go outside and play for a bit?” You asked the kids after spending about an hour working with them at the kitchen table. The kids jumped up and ran outside, laughing and racing each other. You smiled as you started to clean up the table. 

Jensen walked into the kitchen and smiled, “Break time, I see.” “Yeah, they needed a break and so did I. Can I get you a coffee, Jensen?” Jensen walked over to the coffee pot, “No, let me get one for you. You’ve been busy educating my children. It’s the least I can do.” 

Jensen grabbed a coffee cup and filled it up, sliding it to you at the kitchen bar. You nodded and told him thank you. He filled one up and leaned against the counter. “So, how are they doing? Are you still okay with working with all three of them?” “Oh they are amazing children. You and your wife should be very proud of them. I adore them.” 

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate that.” “So if you don’t mind me asking, when is Mrs. Ackles coming home? I know she’s been out of town on a trip for about a week.” “Oh, yeah she’s on a girls trip. I believe she will come back next week. Maybe she’ll be around more after she gets back.” You could see the pain in his eyes and it broke your heart. “Well I can’t wait to sit and chat with her. I enjoy talking to you, and I’m sure I’ll enjoy sitting and talking to her too.” 

There was a pregnant silence that fell between you two, you looked up and met his eyes. They had a softness to them and were full of kindness. You blushed and smiled. The silence was broken by the sounds of crying. Jensen and you jumped up and ran outside. His daughter, Jessica was sitting on the ground crying. You and Jensen ran over to her and saw her knee was bleeding. 

Jensen scooped her up and carried her in the house. He sat her on the counter and you stood next to her. “Shh, it’s okay baby girl. Your daddy is going to get the first aid kit.” You rubbed her back and wiped her tears. 

Jensen came back carrying the first aid box. You held Jessica’s hand as he cleaned up the wound. “So Jess, what do you want for dinner? I bet you can get your daddy to get you whatever you want.” “I want cheeseburgers and ice cream, she sniffled.” “Ooh that sounds yummy. Does your daddy make good burgers?” She smiled and nodded. 

“Okay baby girl, all done.” Jessica looked at Jensen, “It didn’t even hurt.” Her eyes were wide. You smiled and Jensen looked over at you and smiled. “Well I think Ms Y/N has the magic touch then.” “Yes she does. Ms Y/N, can you stay for dinner?” Jensen was shocked, “Oh honey, Ms. Y/N has to get home to her husband. She can’t stay for dinner.” 

“Well, Jessica, if it’s okay with your dad I’d love to stay for dinner.” “Yay! I’m gonna go tell Jr and Annie.” You helped her down and she took off. As you were helping Jensen clean up, he looked at you, “Thank you for keeping her calm, but you really don’t have to stay. I’m sure your husband is waiting for you.” 

You put your head down, trying to hold back the tears. Taking a deep breath, “No, he’s not. I really would like to stay if you’re okay with it.” “Yes, that would be great. Jess really wants you to stay.” “Okay, let me help you cook then.” “Oh no ma’am, you are our guest.” 

You smiled “Please, it’s the least I can do.” “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?” “Nope, you’re not.” You laughed. “Okay, fine.” He chuckled.

Thirty minutes later you and Jensen were calling the kids in to wash up for dinner. Dinner was delicious and after dinner Jensen pulled out the ice cream. Jessica was excited, because they didn’t get ice cream often. “My wife would kill me if she knew I was giving them ice cream. They tend to get a little wild.” You both laughed. 

After ice cream, the kids went to the living room to watch tv while you helped Jensen clean up the kitchen. His phone rang as you two were cleaning. He sighed before he answered and walked out of the room. 

You kept cleaning and a few minutes later he came back in. “Sorry about that. It was my wife. She wanted to talk to the kids.” “Oh it’s not a problem. That’s sweet she calls when she’s away.” “Yeah, it is.” His jaw tightened a bit. 

The two of you reached for a bowl at the same time and your hands brushed against each other. A chill went through your body. You two looked at each other and you bit your lip, he swallowed hard. 

“Sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand back. “It’s okay.” Jensen cleared his throat, “Well it’s getting late. I’m sure your husband is worried about you.” You took a deep breath, “No, we um, actually split up a little over 3 months ago.” Jensen placed his hand on yours, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That has to be hard.” “Yeah, it has been. Things just got really bad, so I left. I’ve been living with my best friend and her husband since.” 

“Well, if it gets too crazy there we have a guesthouse you’re welcome to stay in. I know the kids would love to have you around more.” You smiled, “That’s a generous offer, but I think I’m okay where I am right now. Besides, that’s a decision I think your wife should be included in.” “I understand, the offer stands though. She’d be fine with it. She’s always willing to help people.” “Thank you, I appreciate that. I’ll keep it in mind.” 

About an hour later the kids were in bed and you were getting ready to head home. “Well, thank you for dinner and a wonderful evening. I will see you on Monday.” Jensen stood to walk you to the door. His hand brushed lightly on the small of your back and a shiver went through you. “Good night, Jensen. Thank you again for dinner and the conversation.” “Good night, Y/N, and you’re welcome.” Jensen reached out and pulled you into a hug. You took a deep breath and breathed him in. God he smelt amazing, and he was so warm. 

When you two pulled away he lightly ran his thumb over your cheek. You instinctively leaned into his touch. Your breath hitched, “I should go.” You whispered. “Yeah, you probably should.” 

Jensen stepped closer, you bit your lip. His thumb ran over your chin, pulling your lip out of your teeth. Your breathing grew more rapid and your heart beat wildly. His lips were inches from yours, your breath mingling with his. He licked his lips and leaned even closer. You felt his lips ghosting over yours. “Jensen..” “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” You looked at him, your voice caught in your throat. “Y/N, do you want me to stop?” “No,” was all you said. 

Jensen’s lips crashed into yours. Soft but forceful and full of passion and need. Your mind swirling, your heart pounding as his tongue licked your lips asking for entrance. You parted your swollen lips and his tongue took dominance in your mouth. Jensen’s hands went into your hair and pulled you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around his neck. 

The kiss seemed to last for hours, the need for air causing your lungs to scream for oxygen, but in that moment Jensen was the only thing you needed to live. When the need for air became too much, you both pulled away, panting with swollen lips. 

You were blushing and Jensen was smiling. “I’ve been dying to do that for a really long time.” You smiled and bit your lip. His hand brushing against your cheek, “So beautiful”. You took a deep breath, “Good night Jensen.” He placed a soft peck on your lips before you walked out of the house. 

Driving home all you could think of was the kiss. You’d dreamed of kissing him for years, but he’s married. What did the kiss mean to him, to your job? Would he want to do it again, would you? Your mind was racing with thoughts of the kiss and how you could still feel his lips on yours. The sound of your phone pulling you out of your head.

Jensen: So I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I swear I didn’t plan that. 

You: You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I liked it. Honestly, a little too much. 

Jensen: I liked it too. I’d like to do it again if you want.

You: I like that more than you know, but you’re married and my boss. I’m not sure it’s a great idea.

What the hell are you doing!? Jensen Ackles is telling you he wants to kiss you again and you’re shooting him down. Ugh!

Jensen: I understand. Please don’t think this changes anything or affects your job. It doesn’t. You’re amazing with my kids and I wouldn’t want to mess that up.

You: Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. Good night, and I’ll see you Monday.

Jensen: Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams and see you Monday.

As you crawled into bed that night all you could think about was the kiss and how wonderful his hands felt on you. A small pang of guilt crept into your head when you thought about his wife. You still couldn’t believe you told him you didn’t think kissing him again would be a good idea. His lips were so soft and damn was he a good kisser. 

Could you really still work for him after this, or would the pull to kiss him become too much?

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[thatsatricky1]

𝐙𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 | 𝐥.𝐡𝐜

“So let me get this straight.” Y/n started off sitting with her legs crossed on the bed while Haechan was on the end of it head dangling off the side.

“You want us to go as ghosts, by using some cheap white bed sheets on us, but then at the party we take the sheets off to reveal that we are actually dressed as Velma and Shaggy from Scooby Doo.”

Haechan nodded, his face slightly red from the blood rushing to his head from where it was dangling off the bed with a proud grin on his face.

“Genius right? I can’t wait to see Chenle’s look on his face when he insults us for our bad costumes only for us to be wearing a better thing underneath.”

“And you picked Shaggy and Velma from Scooby Doo?” She questioned out, causing Haechan to finally pull his head up from the bed, cheeks still flushed red.

“Scooby Doo is a masterpiece, I will not be taking any sort of negative response in return.”

“Right so you want to match as Velma and Shaggy who were once in a relationship, then broke up and then stayed as friends.” Y/n pointed out causing Haechan to blink at the realisation of how ironic that was.

“Okay in my defence I didn’t really think about that part, but it would be kind of easy for us to act out.”

“Hyuck, the boys don’t know we dated before.” She hummed out only for Haechan to shrug.

“Well technically we aren’t exactly like Velma and Shaggy.” He responded, moving to crawl over to her, resting his head against her chest without any restraint on Y/n’s side.

“Why’s that?” She questioned hand automatically carding through his soft hair.

Haechan practically melted at the familiar touch, eyes closing.

“Because unlike them we clearly still like each other. And unlike Shaggy I’m going to get you back.”

🔎

“Come on did you see Chenle’s face though.” Haechan laughed as the two of them made it back home after a taxi ride home.

“You mean when he went into detail how overdone Shaggy and Velma was for Halloween in the early 2000’s?” She retorted, flashing him a smile when he immediately started grumbeling at her not entertaining him.

“Will you be on my side for once?”

“Maybe if you pick a better costume next time.” She shrugged walking into his bedroom while taking off her red kitten heels that had been digging into her Achilles heel the whole party.

“It was a good idea.” He stubbornly replied following her onto the bed grabbing her right foot slipping her long orange sock off.

“Yeah?” Wad her only response as she took off the glasses putting them on Haechan since they were his to begin with.

“Yeah.” He doubled down while opening his night stand to grab a plaster.

Haechan opened the tiny packet before placing the plaster right on the red area on the back of her foot, having already picked up on it at the party from how much she’d been shuffling on the spot.

“I could think of some better ideas.”

“Well we’ll go with that next time then, but don’t slander our mystery incorporated ghoul busters again.” He hummed out moving on to her left foot.

“Hyuck?”

At her calling out his name he looked up, his glasses slightly sliding down the bridge of his nose while doing so.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna try again?” She asked out quietly, but he knew what she meant, his stomach tightening having wanted this since the day they’d parted.

“Zoinks.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub 

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Did I make this a bit too goofy most likely, but all of them are. Haechan on that Shaggy and Velma defense agenda.

𝐁𝐨�� 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐰:

Tap

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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[short-honey-badger]

Morning Cuddles

Happy birthday my dear @ezzydantes! I hope you enjoy what I've whipped up for you. It's just something cute and sweet.

Pairings: Mihawk x Reader x Shanks

Summary: The boys wake you up with a nice birthday breakfast in bed.

“Is she still sleeping?” Mihawk whispers when Shanks escapes from the bedroom. It had taken the redhead longer than expected to wiggle out of your hold on him, and you had looked so innocent and cute in your sleep that Shanks hadn’t been able to stop himself from peppering your face in kisses and snuggling into your embrace. Today was your birthday, after all, so you deserved all of the sweet things. 

“Out like a light,” Shanks assures the other man and follows him to the kitchen. Mihawk starts the kettle and sets out mugs for the two of them. They hoped you’d stay sleeping until they finished up their surprise for you. It wasn’t anything big, they learned that you didn’t appreciate grand gestures the hard way, and so planned to have a small party with just the three of them. But, first, breakfast.

They worked around one another, an old song and dance, and soon the scent of a hearty breakfast wafted through the castle. Mihawk cooks and Shanks arranges the plates, carefully placing them on the tray beside the stove. Tea and coffee are next, and the redhead holds open the door for the older man when everything is finished. 

The warlord and emperor lope back to the bedroom, and you are still curled up right where they’d left you. Mihawk sits the tray on the bench at the end of the bed and then crawls over the blankets. Shanks follows, settling in on the other side, and reaching out to ease the blankets down from where you've got them tucked close to your chin. He leans in, kissing your brow and then further down the bridge of your nose and to the corner of your lips.

Mihawk watches the sweet exchanges, long fingers drifting forward to stroke along the length of your throat, and then up into your hair. He joins Shanks in peppering you with little pecks, tongue sneaking out to taste you, lips sucking little marks into your flesh. Dracule’s free hand pulls the covers away, tossing the heavy fabric further down the bed. With that out of the way, his hand finds your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

You wake with a soft grown, eyes fluttering open and catching the attention of both men. Shanks comes into view first, handsome face close and dark eyes full of affection for his treasure. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He greets, and then his lips press against yours in a quick, soft kiss. The hand in your hair turns you up, and then Mihawk is kissing you next, plush lips just as perfect as his partner’s. 

“Morning,” You murmur, voice rough with sleep. You reward your boys with a smile, nose scrunching when you get a whiff of breakfast, “What’s that?” 

Shanks snickers softly, unsurprised that breakfast had caught your attention. He shares a look with Mihawk, and the other man huffs as he releases his hold on you so that Shanks can drag you up the bed with him. The two of you rest against the headboard, and you raise a hand to rub the sleep from your eyes, squinting as you take in the tray of food that Dracule sets in front of you. 

“Breakfast in bed for the birthday girl,” Shanks murmurs from where he sits beside you, and you light up at the reminder that today is your birthday. The grin on your face widens and you turn to pull Shanks in for a quick kiss, and then do the same for Mihawk when he settles on the other side of you. 

“What would you like first, Darling?” Dracule purrs beside you after you release him from the kiss. He gestures to the platter before you, an assortment of breakfast foods and fresh fruit, along with hot tea and coffee. You sit forward to make your choice, when Shanks wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you back to rest against his chest. 

“Let us, babygirl. We want to spoil you today,” Shanks whispers and you shiver when his breath ghosts over your ear. You nod easily, feeling a little dazed by the intimacy,”

Mihawk hands over a cup of tea, and it is made exactly how you take it. The men watch you sip, and when you seem content, Mihawk takes it away only to replace the mug with a melon slice that he presses to your lips. 

“Open up for me, Angel,” Dracule orders and you part your lips without a second thought. The melon is soft and sweet, melting in your mouth, and you hum at the taste. 

“Good? Want another?” Shanks asks and you nod, licking your lips of any leftover juice from the fruit.

Mihawk feeds you savory meats and cheeses, sweet fruits, and fresh vegetables until you are nice and satisfied. You hum quietly to yourself as you finish off your now lukewarm tea. Shanks presses soothing circles into your hip from where he still holds you close, lips pressed to the back of your head. He watches his partner clean up and then settle back on the bed, pressing close to your side and looping an arm around your extended legs. 

“Happy Birthday, dear one,” Mihawk whispers, and Shanks repeats the sentiment quietly from behind you, arm tightening around your waist to keep you close. 

This is just the start of the day, and the two men have plenty of other things in store for you, but for now, Shanks and Mihawk are content to wrap themselves around their treasure and hold you close.

[iridescent-petrichor]

i'm not me without you

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Warnings: drinking mention

Words: 1.8K

You sat on the couch fiddling with a bracelet you stole from JJ years ago while your mom stood in front of you, in the middle of another lecture about you being friends with the pogues.

Coming from Figure Eight, you were introduced to the pogues through Kiara when you were kids, and it felt like your mom had something new to say about it every week.

“You should really stop seeing them.” Your mom continues, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks down at you.

You stay quiet, hoping she’ll get bored and find something else to complain about if you just sit there and take it long enough.

“I don’t believe they have your best interest at heart!” Her words make you frown, and you glare up at her.

“Are you kidding me? They’ve always had my best interest at heart!” You can’t help but argue. So much for staying quiet.

“Did they have your best interest at heart when they made you sneak out and I only found out you were gone when I got a call from the hospital that you sprained your ankle?”

You roll your eyes. She loves using that night against you.

The truth was you were the one that suggested sneaking out. You were bored all week, so you texted them to pick you up. It was all going perfectly fine until you jumped down a slight cliff, landing wrong and spraining your ankle. When you couldn’t walk, the pogues went into panic mode, and John B drove you to the hospital.

“We don’t mix with the pogues.” Your mom continues, clearly not letting up anytime soon.

“What about Kie? She’s friends with the pogues!” You try, but from the way your mom sighs, you realize you shouldn’t have said anything.

“And her parents are very disappointed in her. Is that what you want? To be a disappointment?” She says, making you freeze.

“Kie is-” You hesitate when you see the look on her face. Part of you wants to fight back, defend your friends like you know they’d defend you, but another part of you knows it’ll be easier to just back down.

“Well?” Your mom looks at you expectantly.

“…No, I don’t.” You mutter, staring hard at the ground.

“They don’t care about you.” She says, so casually that you have to blink a few times to even realize what she said.

“Yes, they do.” Despite how defeated you feel, you can’t help but speak up. “They care about me.”

Your mom rolls her eyes. “Oh please, I thought I raised you to be smarter than that.”

Without another word, she walks out of the room, leaving you frozen solid on the couch. Instinctively, you take off your bracelet to turn it over in your hands. It was a simple beaded bracelet, one you snatched from the guestroom at John B’s, which had unofficially become JJ’s room.

You couldn’t help but let her words sink in, the shred of insecurity within you building the more you stared down at the bracelet.

It wasn’t intentional, but you felt yourself distancing from the rest of the pogues. Your resolve was weak, and you let your mom drag you to every dumb kook party she found out about.

At first, JJ texted you every day. His texts started out asking when you were free, telling you about times to meet up with the rest of the group. Slowly, they transitioned into asking if the two of you could talk, or asking if you could make time to see the pogues. Then, the final text he sent you was one you stared at for hours.

I miss you.

You wanted to respond, but the guilt was overwhelming. Every part of you was convinced that they hated you, that you could never come crawling back to the pogues.

So you turned off your phone, shoving it into your purse as you continued to get ready for whatever event your mom was bringing you to this time.

You didn’t enjoy any of them, and you just spent the entire time standing in the corner. Every time, you’d start the night off by grabbing a drink, and the adults would look away. After all, a kook can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.

After being forced along to enough parties, there was a small group you’d become acquainted with. They were a trio of kook girls who would rather talk about their status and which boy they want to take to Midsummers rather than anything of substance, but you made do with what you could.

It took almost two months before JJ even saw you again.

Someone had thrown a party at the Boneyard, and of course, it was packed. There were kooks, tourons, and pogues all mingling. It was the kind of night that ended in a fight half the time, but it seemed to be smooth sailing for now.

JJ stood with Kiara, Pope, and John B with an untouched drink in his hand, turning when he heard a crowd of people cheering.

It was a circle of kooks, and he frowned when he noticed what they were all focused on.

In the middle of the crowd of people, you were stood, chugging a beer faster than the rich kid in front of you.

JJ’s grip on his drink tightens, and he can’t take his eyes off you. He couldn’t help but remember the way you used to be, and wonder what went wrong.

“Is that your first drink?” JJ asked, wrapping an arm around you.

You laughed, raising the still nearly full cup. “Yep.”

“Wow,” He drawled. “Look out, we got a party animal on our hands!”

You shoved him playfully, smiling from ear to ear when you heard JJ’s laughter. “Someone has to be sober enough to drive you idiots home!”

JJ nodded, looking over at John B who was shotgunning a beer, then to Kiara who had convinced Pope to smoke a joint with her.

“You’re probably right, princess.”

“What’s got you all riled up?” John B asked, noticing the way JJ’s jaw clenched.

Kiara and Pope turned their attention to him as well, the three of them all following his gaze to you.

“Oh.” Was all Kiara said, her heart dropping at the sight of you. The two of you had been best friends, and she was beyond hurt by the distance you put between them.

“Didn’t know she could drink like that,” Pope said quietly, glancing at Kie.

More than anything, JJ wanted to go back to the party, and hanging out with his friends, but once he took a few steps, he knew there was no turning back.

He barely got away from the group before Kiara grabbed his arm, pulling him back slightly. “JJ, she left for a reason. We shouldn’t meddle.”

He looked at her for a moment. The concern in her eyes mimicked his own, and he knew she was just as worried about your new drinking habits as he was. Still, she was stronger than him, and when he looked back at you and saw you losing your balance, he shook his head.

“There’s no world where I’m leaving her alone surrounded by kooks when she can barely stand.”

Kiara lets him go, knowing it was no use, and he shoves through the crowd, ignoring the glares and whispers from the kooks as he does. When he manages to get to the front of the circle they made around you, he sees you talking to a kid named Brian. JJ had only interacted with him a few times, back when he had a shitty waiter job at a fancy restaurant on Figure Eight. The kid never tipped, and always treated the waitstaff – especially JJ – like they were less than scum.

You took a step back, tripping over your own two feet and almost falling over.

JJ rushed forward, catching you just before you hit the sand.

“I got you.” He whispers, helping you stand back up.

The second his arms were around you, steadying you, he could feel you leaning on him for support. It took a moment for you to look up at him with tired eyes, brows furrowing when you saw his face.

“JJ?”

He nods, forcing a smile. He shifts so he has an arm around your waist, helping you along. “Let’s get you outta here.”

You want to protest, especially when you hear the kooks whispering as you walk past them, but you don’t have the strength as he walks you to the Twinkie.

When he opens the back, gently helping you onto the floor of the van, you feel tears sting your eyes. It had been so long since you’d been in John B’s car, and it was almost too much for you.

JJ searched the van quickly, grabbing his backpack off one of the seats and fishing through it until he found a water bottle, handing it to you.

“Here,” He watches you take it with a small smile on his face. “Let me help you.”

You take a long drink, gulping the water down before looking up at him, tears in your eyes.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Is all you could say, eyelids heavy when you hand the water bottle back.

“I know.” He whispers, gently setting the water bottle down and climbing out of the van. “I’ll be right back.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, feeling warm and tired from the alcohol. A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying hard not to cry.

Just being back in John B’s van was enough for everything to come back to you. Everything you’d told yourself you’d be better off without was confronting you dead on now, and you couldn’t hold back.

By the time JJ got back, you couldn’t stop crying.

“Alright,” He climbed into the driver’s seat, turning to look at you before he froze. “Whoa, hey, are you okay?”

You barely nod, trying to wipe your tears away.

Quickly, he moves to the back of the van again, kneeling in front of you.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His voice was impossibly gentle, in a way you didn’t realize was reserved just for you.

“I missed you.” You say quietly, voice breaking painfully.

He reaches forward, wiping away the tears on your face. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes.

“I missed you too.” The crack in his voice makes you open your eyes, seeing a tear slip down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, sniffling.

In an instant, JJ’s pulling you close. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. When he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, you were half convinced you’d hallucinated it.

“I shouldn’t have left.” You say, voice muffled by his embrace.

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispers back like his words are meant for you and you alone. “I know. Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I promise.” You say, feeling a weight leave your chest. It feels like you can finally breathe again. “I promise.”

[danikamariewrites]

When you’re cold hc

Ddlg!Azriel x Reader

A/n: I literally couldn’t stop thinking about this bc it’s been freezing all week

Warnings: ddlg, daddy kink

Winter is your favorite time of year! The snow, the excitement of solstice right around the corner, fires and hot cocoa, and best of all snuggling with Azriel

You have this problem where you’re always cold no matter what. At night you put your feet on Azriel and he always jumps and says, “mother above your feet are freezing! Why!” And you giggle

When the cold air starts to settle over Velaris in the fall nights get very cold

At bedtime Az doesn’t let you wear just his shirt anymore, he thinks you’ll catch a cold

Coming out of the bathroom you see him laying out your pj pants and a shirt. He turns back to the closet bringing out fuzzy socks and a hoodie of his

Sitting in the bed you raise a brow at your mate, “don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“No such thing princess. I don’t want you getting sick.” He kisses your head, setting the rest of the clothes down

Azriel pulls your shirt over your head and starts to dress you. When he pulls your socks on he kisses your knees and climbs into bed pulling you to his chest

Azriel wraps his wings around you if you’re extra cold sometimes. He’s a walking heater so his wings provide extra warmth

Along with Binx he also bought you the fluffiest blanket that is always warm and feels like him for when he’s away

You always insisted on playing in the first snowfall of the season which Azriel would happily do with you

In your excitement you’d try to run outside in just your hoodie and pants. Azriel grabbed you around the waist pulling you back in the house. “You need a jacket princess.” “UUGGHHH.”

Az also makes sure you’re bundled up when he takes you flying

That is one time you won’t complain about wearing a hat and gloves. The first time you went without gloves your fingers were red and numb and it felt like they’d never be warm again

Whenever your outside and your hands, ears, or nose get cold you run right up to Azriel and he warms you up

One time at the River House you were playing in the snow with Nyx, Feyre, and Elain and had ended up freezing your ass off. You could never say no to Nyx and he wanted to stay outside for as long as his mom would let him

You see Azriel coming out to the backyard. You run up to him and he smiles down at you. “Hi daddy,” you say through chattering teeth. “Aw princess, you’re shivering.” You cross your arms, tucking your hands under your arms. “I’m ok.” You giggle

Az rolls his eyes and pulls you into the house. “Let’s get you changed and in front of the fire.”

You’d crawl into his lap and stick your hands up his shirt. “Daddy my nose is cold.” Az rubs his hands together and puts one on your nose and then holds your rosy cheeks until you’ve absorbed all his warmth

[miniwheat77]

Family. (Task force 141 X Reader.)

!CW! rape, assault, blood, violence, (let me know if I missed any.)

(Summary): Reader has had a shit time but 141 always has her back.

*blurb*

You were quiet, reserved.

Focused only on the mission you were on. You were nice to anyone around you and most everyone in 141 got along with you.

A new girl ended up getting recruited for 141, and you noticed something off about her immediately. She had a different energy, shoved you to the side a lot. Joking and being overly friendly to the guys on base. You got a bad vibe from her immediately. You continued on with this bad vibe until you realized who she was. She was familiar at the beginning. Now. You were worried. As soon as you realized who she was, you immediately made your way for Captain Price’s office.

“Y/N, what can I help you with?” He smiles. “Can I close this?” You ask, hand on the door. “Sure, what’s going on?” You close the door, walking over to the chair in front of his desk. “I uh…” you swallow hard. “I don’t know if you can access my file or if… this particular incident is even in there but.. before I came here, I was involved in an incident and one of the people involved was the new girl you have on base, Lindsey.” You breath. “I have no issues working alongside her, my problem wasn’t with her. But I thought I would just give you heads up in case anything happens.” You breathe. He nods his head. “What happened if you don’t mind my asking?” You swallow hard.

“The last base I was on, before I contacted Laswell and a few others for somewhere else to work. There was a guy on base that was a little weird. And he um..” you clear your throat. “He ended up assaulting me on base and the girl he was dating previously was her.” You point to the door. He nods his head. “Okay. I’ll keep a close eye on her and if she gives you any trouble at all I’ll take care of it okay?” You nod your head. “Thank you Captain.” You smile.

After that conversation with him, you felt as if everything would be okay.

You were mistaken though, because the next morning, she waited for you. Handing you over blueberry syrup, which made you sick immediately.

There were small triggers that still set you off, even this long after the incident. That morning, you ate pancakes and blueberry syrup. Something nobody ever got on base and they’d had for a special occasion.

After the assault, you’d throw it up along with stomach acid and couldn’t stand the thought of blueberry syrup after that. It was little things like this that went on for a long time afterwards. Small triggers that she knew well enough would bother you, she went out of her way for. It started to bother you more than you realized, and it started to build up. It was clear what her intentions were, she wanted you off the task force and would do anything it took to get her way.

It started to keep you awake at night. What happened, it haunted you. You couldn’t hide it, couldn’t get over it. All of the healing you had done seemed to be useless. She sent you spiraling right back down that deep dark trench you’d crawled out of.

She’d sat across from you during lunch in the mess hall, and you knew if she bugged you anymore, you might just lose your mind. Soap was sitting at the same table as well as Gaz, a few other men you’d gotten to know pretty well also sat around you at the tables nearby. They were your friends. You trusted them. You could hear her and Soap making small talk. But you were lost in your own mind. Flashes of what he’d done to you in your brain. The screaming, the crying, scratching.

Scrubbing at your skin for days in the shower, the tearing feeling of him forcing himself into you. It was too much to bare. The things he’d said to you, threatening you, belittling you, telling you nobody would believe you. It haunted you.

When your eyes flash down to the blueberry syrup she’d put on the table, you felt sick. Wanted to run away and throw up. But you knew deep down you needed to stand your ground with her.

“Oh yeah, my last boyfriend, he was so funny. His name was Ryan. You remember Ryan, don’t you Y/N?”

Your face started to turn red. And you clutched your glass of water so hard in your hand that it shattered right there. Gathering the attention of the mess hall as your eyes darkened and you stared right through her.

“Shut the fuck up.” The words leave your mouth before you can take a second thought. “What?” She says. “I said, shut the fuck up.” You growl. Soap’s eyes are wide, you’ve gathered the attention of everyone else around you. “If you don’t get away from me, I’m going to make you.” You growl. The anger was apparent. Something nobody had ever seen before. She smirks, crossing her arms. “You think you scare me? Hm? There’s only room for one girl on this base.” She smiles. “Does this look like fucking middle school to you? Hm? Are you fucking stupid? I put my life on the line for my brothers every day. And you think you’re going to come in here and disregard that? Disrespect me? I won’t stand for it.” You shove your lunch forward, standing up. “What’s going on?” Captain Price emerges from the hallway, noticing the room is deathly quiet. “You need to get your pet under control.” She smirks, taking a few steps until she’s only a couple feet from you.

You started to see red, you didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to black out here. You needed to get away. You shove your chair back in, and she turns around for a second to talk to Captain Price. She tries to catch you off guard with a cheap shot, but you expected it. She spins around and you duck to avoid her hit but she clips your nose. You freeze, eyes darkening as you wiped at the blood beginning to run down your face. You grit your teeth, drawing your fist back and swinging, knocking your fist into her jaw and dropping her where she stands, getting on top of her.

You black out, all you see is red. You can hear muffled yells around you but it takes them a few minutes for them to get you off of her completely. You’re seething, blood is dripping down your chin onto you shirt. It was a white shirt and it’d be ruined. Soap is holding you back and you fight against him to back to her. You weren’t done yet. “Lass, relax. It’s over.” He’s mumbling to you, trying to soothe you. They get her back onto her feet, she’s got blood running, face swollen and battered. “You’re just going to let her do that!” She screams. You hiss, pulling your arms from Soap. You take a step toward her, shaky, bloody hands. The room is quiet.

“If you ever say anything about him again.”

You pause, wiping your nose as blood dripped into your mouth. “I will kill you. I won’t take a second thought, I will be the last fucking thing you ever see.”

She seethes. “What’s so special about you hm?”

“He raped me. There’s nothing special about being raped.”

She freezes, eyes widening. Nobody knew this. And now it was all out on the table. Soap’s eyes are wide, when you glance around so are everyone elses.

“He waited for me to fall asleep, snuck into my barracks and raped me on base. And nobody did a goddamn thing about it, I did it. I made it through it alone. So don’t ever-“ tears are gathering in your eyes and you pause to steady your voice. “Don’t ever say another fucking word about him. Or so help me god. I will end you.” You breathe. You pick your lunch up off of the table, throwing it in the trash can as you leave. Soap moves to go after you but Price stops him. “I got it Soap.” Price pats his arm, going after you. He hurried after you, seeing you disappear into a bathroom. He pushes the door open, hearing you get sick. He closes it behind him, throwing a towel in the sink and turning the sink on. He holds your hair back for you as you emptied the contents of your stomach. Price sighs. When you finish, you draw yourself back and he passes you the towel he’d just ringed out. You rest against the wall. Eyes still full of tears that streamed down your face. Your hands shook violently, knuckles bloodied.

“I didn’t want to do it- I-“ you take in a sharp breath. “It’s okay.” He kneels down in front of you. You’re hyperventilating. “It’s okay sweetheart.” He breathes. He picks up a side of the towel, wiping at your face and nose to wipe the blood away. Price knows about your track record. He talked to Laswell about you. “You aren’t in trouble love, she swung first, everyone seen it.” He breathes. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“I- I black out. I see red. I don’t want to feel this way, I hate it.” Your voice is shaky. “Hey. Come here.” He sits down next to you, pulling you into him. He holds you close while you shake. He sighs. This was the part of the military John had a hard time with. The mental illness, the heartbreak. “Y/N…” he sighs. “You have to talk about these things to someone. Wether it’s with someone you trust, or a shrink. You have to get it off of your chest or it’s going to eat at you until you explode. You’re bottling up your emotions sweetheart..” he breathes. “I just.. it was so good. For so long.” You take on a sharp unsteady breath. “For years, I didn’t like to be around men. If I was alone with a man in a room I’d freak out and leave as quickly as possible. And when I came here, all alone with all guys. I was fucking terrified-“ you sniffle. “And.. you all are fucking amazing. Nobody here would ever put me in that position, you defend me, help keep me safe. If I’m uncomfortable, you back off. It was so great until she came along. And now..” you sigh, putting your head in your hands. “Hey, listen to me. She’s going to be removed for what she’s done alright, but. We are your brothers Y/N. We’re here for you, no matter what. And we aren’t going to treat you differently for something that happened to you out of your control, this shit happens. It’s real world shit that everyday people deal with. We’re not here to make it harder on you, we’re here to help you. And this right here? I hate seeing you like this. I wanted nothing more than to tell her to get the hell out but I wanted you to get in a couple shots first.” He laughs. You laugh, wiping your eyes. He sits up, crouching down in front of you again. “We’re 141 sweetheart. We make the best team, and we got each others backs no matter what. Remember that.” He puts his fist out and you fist bump him. “Now, I’ve got another soldier to take care of. You going to be okay?” You nod your head. “Thank you Captain.” He smiles. “Always.” He pats your shoulder.

[icallhimjoey]

Hi beautiful, I was wondering if you could write a little something about spending some quality time with Joe while straddling him and playing with his little happy trail

i couldnt not write this, beautiful request. thank you <3 Wordcount: 1.9K

---

What Are You Wearing

Ugh was the best way to describe it.

Ugh.

You couldn’t count on your fingers how many things had pissed you off that day. No more coffee in the house as you’d woken up. Joe had left the toothpaste out, all squeezed in the middle, cap nowhere to be found. Your favourite black jeans had a fat orange bleach stain near the bottom from cleaning the bathroom last night.

“Use bleach, I love the smell of bleach,” Joe had said when you'd made a deal; he’d take care of the kitchen, you’d do the bathroom. He’d handed you a bottle. You hadn’t even thought of what it could do if you weren’t careful, and now it was all ruined.

There was no more windscreen wiper fluid in the car, so you had to drive and peer through thick white dirty streaks which was dangerous and annoying, because you remembered thinking “Oh, I’ll get some next time,” about three weeks ago, and then had forgotten about it completely.

Everything was ugh.

All day all you could think of was going home and crawling back into bed after a scorching hot shower you’d sit on the floor for, because they were clean now, because of the fucking bleach.

Five minutes before you got to go home, you received an e-mail about some outstanding bill you’d forgotten about, and they’d added administration costs now and it was all so stupid. You were going to have to pay more money because you’d done something so human. People forgot things all the time. Just remind them! Don’t make them pay for it.

It was Joe’s turn to take care of dinner that night.

He had said he was going to get you something good. Get some coffee too, you had added grumpily.

You’d have dinner. You’d shower. You’d go hide underneath the covers and wait for a better day. When there’d be coffee. Those were the plans.

But then, when you walked in, late, because of course you’d run late, the flat didn’t smell of food at all.

You walked in, annoyed, a little dazed, tired, and with expectations that weren’t met which only pushed you closer to tears you’d get so angry over crying. It always felt so stupid to cry over silly little things. But they had stacked up and made one big, huge thing, and it was starting to become silly in a different way. An all-consuming, I’m-going-to-eat-you and you-won’t-get-out-alive silly kind of way.

“Hey!” Joe said from the sofa, all cheery, like today wasn’t the worst day ever.

Ugh.

You walked in, stopped right in the middle of your living room, and closed your eyes. Took a deep breath. Get yourself together, bitch. Joe didn’t deserve you taking it all out on him.

“Oh no,” you heard Joe, moving, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s all fucked up today, and I just. Give me a second to acclimate.” you said, trying more deep breaths, eyes closed still. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Your stomach rumbled. The flat didn’t smell of food. It was well past dinner time. Joe probably had good reasons. He always had good reasons.

You clenched your fists as hard as you could. Then relaxed. Did it once more, just to be sure.

Then you opened your eyes, blinked them into focus, and looked at Joe.

“Joe,” you groaned, instantly right back in the awful mood you’d just tried so very hard to push away. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Joe looked slightly panicked, tipped his head down to give his own outfit a once over before they looked back at you again.

“I thought this was fine?”

“Joey,”

“What? You said you liked this!” Joe plucked at his shirt. You did like his shirt. But not matched with the trousers, and God, why did he put the cardigan over top? And the socks? Cute, colourful. But, no, baby. No.

“You went outside in that?” you sounded so defeated, like it was the worst thing in the world. It wasn’t, it very wasn’t. Joe could flutter those eyelashes over his big brown eyes, and no one would even really notice what he was wearing. You knew. You’d been there, once. But today everything was wrong.

And there was no food.

And Joe looked like a toddler who’d gotten to dress himself for the first time.

“No, I locked myself up inside all day, like a hermit,”

Sarcasm. The language of bullies and mean-spirited assholes. Exactly the opposite of what you needed. And Joe saw then that you weren’t in the mood for playful bickering. It would all feel too real too quickly, and you clearly needed soft, tender care. Light-hearted jokes were fine, but only at his own expense. Not yours.

Then Joe scrambled. Quick hands to undo buttons, fast.

Cardigan came off first. He threw it across the room, made the place look untidy instantly.

“Better?” he asked, but his hands, fingers didn’t stop. His button down was next.

“Here, gone.” Joe pushed one arm out, then shook the other until it came off completely, leaving him topless.

Joe never wore undershirts. He should really start wearing undershirts, you thought. A simple white crewneck would actually be the perfect addition to what he still had on now.

But then Joe leant back, brought hands to the button of his trousers, and it was so stupid, but Joe trying to make you feel better by taking off a bad outfit was actually what brought you closer to tears than all the other shit that you’d had to deal with throughout the day.

“Stop,” you tried, but a smile found your face and Joe saw that what he was doing was working.

Joe undid his trousers, stood up and stepped in place, high knees, until he was out of them. Then thumbs found the waistband of his underwear, and you let your eyes grow big.

“Stop,”

Joe raised an eyebrow, cocked his head, and you stepped closer quickly, reaching for his arms, yanking them away and you weren’t sure how Joe did this. How Joe could find the negative within you and then do the exact thing you needed for all of it to disappear. How did Joe know how to do this? It was like magic, and it worked every single time.

He only fought you for a second, pretending his was absolutely going to pull his boxers down whilst you tried to wrestle his arms away from him, until he pulled you into a hug.

A tight one.

One that squeezed all the left over negative out.

Joe was stood in his socks and underwear, and you were still in your coat, and you hugged. You hugged, squeezed, and nuzzled your cold nose into the crook of his neck. Joe held you, until you sighed deeply and said, “I’m hungry.” It made Joe laugh, not letting go. “Food should be here in 15 minutes,” Joe pulled his face back, kissed you on the temple. It made you scrunch up your eyebrows, like it hurt, and Joe did it again, kept kissing you in the same spot, checking in between, until your face relaxed.

“Talk to me,” he then said, but before you could, he let himself fall back and took you with him. It was only uncomfortable for a second, until your knees found the sofa next to his thighs, and Joe’s grip on you loosened enough for you to sit up, straddling him now.

“Tell me what’s all fucked up today,” Joe took your head in his hands, and you found his wrists to hold onto as he brought you close, pressing kisses everywhere but your mouth.

You talked about the coffee. The toothpaste. The orange bleach stain. The windscreen wiper fluid. The bills. The forgetting, God, you felt so stupid for always forgetting everything all the time.

Joe listened, and was there, and you thought, maybe the food could wait. Maybe that scorching hot shower could wait. Because you were sat on top of your boyfriend, who helped you out of your coat, and he was practically naked, and he hadn’t trimmed his beard in a while, and he listened. Joe just looked at you, big brown eyes, and listened.

Half the things you complained about were things Joe was the direct cause of, but he didn’t interrupt. Just let you speak. Took it all in.

As you spoke, your hands wandered. Beard. Perfect, unruly. Longer than he’d ever had it before. You absentmindedly let your hands run through it from underneath out, and Joe lifted his head a little, gave you better access as you watched your fingertips get lost and reappear again.

Down. Chest hair. There wasn’t a lot, but just enough to scrape nails through. Up and down. Swirling, a little. Soft skin, milky white, freckles barely visible if you didn’t look hard enough.

Down further. Happy trail below his navel. Joe’s stomach muscles tensed slightly as you ran a finger down, back up, back down again. You used your index finger and your middle finger to hold it in between, like hairdressers would hold hair to cut. You noted how the hair got coarser the further down you went, and you let your finger trips trail until they lingered and you realised when you heard Joe chuckle softly that you’d stopped talking. It was just caressing fingers now, your attention fully with what you were touching. It didn’t leave enough brain space to also get all the bad things out; it was all just Joe’s body hair now.

“I can still take them off, if you’ll allow me,” Joe said, and you looked up to see a wicked grin you couldn’t help but copy. Joe’s hands were still holding your head, and you felt him pull at you slightly, prompting you to move in for a kiss.

Joe was soft. Caring. Kind. You were kissing, just to kiss. Just to be close, in this moment. Lips brushing and pressing, noses touching, all love. It was all warmth, and sweetness, and when Joe’s hands left your face to wrap his arms around your neck to pull you even closer - could you get even closer? - you full body relaxed into him, into his kisses, and that’s when you knew, it was all good.

Today was actually fine.

It was all easy fixes, and Joe knew just how.

He’d buy coffee. He’d get you new black jeans and would never suggest using bleach again. He’d fill up the windscreen wiper fluid. Find the lid to the toothpaste. Remind you of important things that didn’t need forgetting. Get out of his clothes that he didn’t know how to match together properly.

Joe’d do it all for you.

Kissing Joe, being kissed by Joe like this was really the easiest way to patch it all up. Slow hands, soft touches, closed eyes and little throat noises. It fixed everything.

Besides maybe, your rumbling stomach. Fuck, you were hungry.

But then the doorbell rang, thank God, and the food was here, and you loved Joe, you really did, but food was here, and today was actually great.

“Never wear that stupid shit together again,” you whispered into his mouth before you got up to answer the door, and Joe laughed. Heartily laughed, and he promised nothing.

Because if wearing bad outfits got you smiling the way you did when he got out of them, he’d wear bad outfits every day for the rest of his life.

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff - (tag list currently full)

[peapodsinspace]

Feeling better?

fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood

Read on ao3!

Warnings: none!

Summary: After The Promised Day, Al is glad to have his body back. He’s glad to have his brother with him, too

Notes: just sibling fluff!! All platonic obviously.

Alphonse stared at the ceiling, listening to the noises of the nurses and doctors milling around outside his room.

It was starting to get late– at least, as well as he could tell, given there wasn’t a single clock in sight.

Which was such an odd choice, really. What if the patients wanted to know how long they’d been wallowing?

In Alphonse’s case, it hadn't been too long.

Not that he wasn’t used to sitting around and waiting, given how he was trapped in a suit of armor incapable of sleeping for all those years.

Yes, he was very familiar with this sort of thing. The same way someone may be familiar with their nightly routine, since, after all, that was his nightly routine for quite a while.

But this time was different.

He could feel the sheets on his bed (rough, very thin), his hair, falling over his shoulders (still greasy, much longer than he remembered), and even the tape holding the IV in his arm (sticky, it pulled on his hairs a bit).

Finally, he was back in his own body now, made from flesh, and not the cold, unfeeling metal he’d been used to all this time.

As used to that as someone could get, at least.

Despite the uncomfortable sheets, and the lanterns’ light boring into his skull, Alphonse was still in a very good mood.

Those annoyances almost made him giddier– the fact he was bothered by these things was just another reminder that he was back in his body.

And he would happily take a mild headache over feeling nothing at all, any day.

Alphonse furrowed his eyebrows, distracted from his thoughts by the sound of heavy and fast footfalls from down the hall.

Moments after the sound stopped, the door to Al’s room slammed open with excessive force, revealing none other than his favorite (and only) brother.

“Yo! Alphonse! Uh, sorry for taking so long, I got a little held up by the lieutenant.” Edward said, grinning and walking up to Alphonse in his bed.

“Don’t worry, brother, you weren’t gone for too long. And I don’t mind to wait.” Al replied happily.

Edward’s smile softened a bit, and he patted Al on the head. “’S good to have my arm back, cus now I don’t have to worry about bonking ya too hard.” He used his other hand to pat the top on his brother’s head, too, as if demonstrating his point.

Alphonse grimaced, holding up an arm and moving away from Ed’s hands. He muttered a soft, “quit that…”, which Ed laughed in response to, crossing his arms.

Edward leaned over Al’s legs, crawling across to the other side of the bed, and ignoring Al’s complaining about being squished.

Swiveling his legs to the side, he flopped down on his stomach, parallel to Al, and rested his cheek on his folded arms.

“That was a little unnecessary, Ed,” Al grumbled, turning his head to look at Edward.

“I found it to be very efficient,” the older boy replied smugly.


 “Uh-huh,” Alphonse narrowed his eyes. “Well, I found it to be very… vexing.”

Ed huffed out a laugh. “vexing?”

“Yes, very vexing.” Al nodded. “Do you not know what that means?” he added on, in a mock-innocent tone.

Edward scowled. “Sure I do!”

“If you say so, brother.”

“I do say so!”

“Alright.”

“Alright!”

Al swallowed, trying to hold back a laugh. He glanced to the side, locking eyes with Ed, who was pouting.

They stared at each other.

Ed’s frown deepened.

Alphonse narrowed his eyes in response, ignoring how his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“You’re not winning this staring contest,” Ed muttered, trying (and failing) to keep a smile off his face.

“Sure I am,” Al replied, giggling.

“Don’t copy me, you bastard,” Edward hissed, laughing under his breath.

Al paused, tilting his head. “This sorta reminds me of the sleepovers we had when we were little,” he said softly.

“You mean when you’d crawl on top of me while I was sleeping, waking me up in the middle of the night ‘cus you and your stuffed bear got lonely’?”

“No, and I didn’t do that,” he ignored Ed’s response, deeming it unworthy of a reply. “I mean when we’d drag all the blankets over to your bed and pile them up, and sleep there for a few nights ‘til I got tired of you kicking me.”

“I don’t kick in my sleep,” Ed huffed.

“You do.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “I don’t kick in my sleep,” he repeated. “I know what you’re talking about, though. The sleepovers, I mean. Not the kicking-“

“-cus you don’t do that. Yeah, sure,” Al interrupted.

Ed huffed.

“I feel like it’s been so long, though. Even before we lost our bodies, we were just too focused on getting ready for the transmutation.”

Edward hummed in response. “Well, it’s getting late now, and the blankets might be a little lack-luster, but I’m perfectly fine staying here tonight.” He stretched out his legs like a cat.

“Alright.” Alponse smiled.

It took several minutes of Ed squirming around, after he got up and dimmed the lights down, until he finally settled beside his little brother again, under the blanket this time.

“g’night, Al,” Ed said softly, reaching for one of the boy’s hands and holding it in front of his chest.

“Goodnight, brother.”

And Al layed in bed, feeling the rise and fall of Edward’s chest (and of his own), feeling the warmth from Ed’s hands (and from his own).

Feeling his hair brushing against his face, and the scratchy sheets on the bed, and the humming from the walls, and Edward’s occasional twitch in his sleep, and-

Alphonse could feel again, and it was wonderful.

There, lying on a thin hospital bed, next to his brother, he felt closer to home than he had in a long time.

There, under the blankets he felt like he was a kid again, back in their childhood room.

There, with Ed, he truly felt like a human again.

There, holding his brother’s hands, he felt a tear roll down his cheek, and smiled.

Because he finally felt again, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.