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heirloomgem · 20 days ago

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Serendipity Series

Summary: (AU) In every lifetime, Sung Jinwoo will make sure to leave a mark on your soul. To always accompany you as your devoted husband to his lovely and cute wife, no matter what...

Watching from a distance, Sung Jinwoo slowly savoured the taste of the wine in his glass, his fingers clenching the fragile stem. He restrained his anger as he witnessed your betrothed humiliate you and revoke your engagement for his mistress. Painting you as a villain to everyone as that foolish of a man flaunts his infidelity called 'love'.

Sung Jinwoo couldn't help but sneer at them and find fate laughable.

He has always been determined to have you as his wife, no matter what. However, fate has a twisted sense of humour. It seems, that in order, for him to have you, you must first endure humiliation and a broken engagement.

If fate is going to play its hand, then don't blame him if he turns the situation to his advantage and claims you as his own. And as for those who have wronged you, they will face the consequences of his wrath.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: Romance, AU, drama, broken engagement, Yandere (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Chapter 1 - Stupidity

In a banquet hosted by the royal family in the palace, your betrothed, the crown prince hugs his first love protectively in his arms and condemns you without hesitation in front of all the nobles in the kingdom.

A smug smirk on his lips as he looked down on you while you, on the other hand, glared up at him.

The anger that has built over the years was on the verge of breaking as your supposed fiance embarrassed not only you but your family with the breakdown of your engagement.

Your name is Eliana Anderson. You are the eldest child of the Anderson household and the prestigious and precious daughter of the Primes Minister Anderson of your kingdom.

Ever since you came of age, you have been betrothed to the crown prince by the king without your father's approval.

You're the only daughter in your family and your father has always doted on you so of course the matters of your betrothal have been a sensitive and meticulous topic to your father. Not wanting to give his precious daughter to some boorish, unruly bastards.

And so receiving a marriage decree from the king, accompanied by a threat to your family, made your father furious beyond belief that you and your mother worried he might faint from anger.

Your father protested with all his might to deny this engagement, knowing how corrupt the current royal family is and how uncontrolled and malicious the current crown prince is but to no avail; the king ignored him.

In the end, you didn't have a choice but to follow, not wanting your family to end up in a difficult situation by opposing the king.

The crown prince does share the same sentiment on not wanting this engagement; however, that didn't stop him from showing his disgust at you. In fact, he seemed to revel in the opportunity to humiliate you whenever the chance arose.

The torment he has shown you since the first day of your engagement has never ceased, and continues even to this day.

And now he's hellbent on not only humiliating you but also destroying and smearing your family's reputation through the mud.

Letting out a breath, you calmed yourself, knowing that acting hysterical wouldn't benefit you nor save your family from the predicament this prince has thrown at you.

However, the urge to slap this idiot prince was so dangerously tempting that you had to close your eyes, and instead, a cold smile appeared on your lips and looked at your 'fiance'.

"If I may ask Your Highness, what crime have I committed that warrants you painting me as a malicious villain in front of everyone?" You coldly asked, your smile darkening as your hand clenched tighter on the fan you were holding.

Suddenly, a coquettish voice interrupted, "Lady Eliana, please stop lying and admit to your sins. Please don't make this harder than it is."

It was the woman whom your fiance had 'fallen' for. A woman who has brown shoulder-length hair, dopey downturned eyes and dressed in a white gown that accentuated her slim figure.

She has that pure, innocent beauty that always seems to attract men who want to unconsciously protect her.

It was the crown prince's 'first love', Amy Wilson, the illegitimate daughter of Baron Wilson, who was currently nestled in your fiance's arms.

Cowering and trembling as tears gathered in her eyes, looking like a small doe in front of everyone as she tried to confront you, earning her sympathy and pitying looks especially the crown prince and his stupid group of cronies.

You, however, were given a dark and condemning look from them.

You couldn't help but spit in disgust in your heart as you coldly looked at her.

She's a woman completely opposite of you, who has sharp and cold eyes, and whenever you look at the crown prince, a lingering disgust shows in your eyes.

Your once slender and petite frame is now tall and lean, the result of the training you have suddenly undergone to learn self-defence as you were pushed as the crown princess.

Truly a complete opposite from your past self. No more the naivety and joy in your once soft features.

Hearing her words, you sneered.

"As far as I know Lady Tr- Lady Wilson, I have only given you fair warnings on your behaviour and to maintain your distance as Your Highness is my betrothed. As for the accusations of harming you, unfortunately, I do not know of them nor have I done them."

You said as you gave them a cold smile behind your fan, patting yourself for catching yourself from calling that woman 'trash'.

That right, you have labelled that woman 'Trash' the moment she seduced the crown prince and tried to harm you.

Why, you ask?

It's not because you love that rotten bastard but because, in your eyes, the crown prince is a rotten garbage. And since there is a rotten garbage, it only makes sense that it has to be thrown in the trash and that trash is none other than Amy Wilson.

Hiding behind the crown prince's arms, that trash gave you a sly look.

You couldn't help but feel a disgusting chill run down your spine as an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach.

As far as you know, your actions thus far have been appropriate as a crown princess. Neither have you crossed the line of letting your feelings interfere nor have you remained ignorant of the situation to let it escalate.

You didn't hurt this woman in any form, only giving her a fair warning and if you did, you have your servants to witness it. As for the 'evidence' they have presented earlier, if experts, the kings and higher people in ranks were to investigate it, they would know it was nothing but fraud.

It's nothing but false evidence made by both the crown prince and his stupid group of cronies who were supposedly the next heirs to some of the most influential families in your kingdom and yet have been seduced so easily under such a contemptuous woman.

Regardless, they were nothing but brats who only rode their family's coattails and were nothing but a nuisance, using their power to abuse those who were weak and under them.

Thinking so, you curse them again in your heart and tried to calm your nerves as cold sweat still continues to run down your back.

"We have given and presented undisputable evidence, Eliana. Stop your nonsense and admit to it." The crown prince spoke with impatience in his voice, shaking his head as if he were speaking to a child.

Your eyebrow twitched hearing him calling you by your name so directly with such audacity.

If it were any other situation, you would have refuted him without reserve however since you were in such a situation, you can't do so recklessly or else your entire family would be dragged further than it already is.

Suddenly, the crown prince caught your eyes and gave a malicious smirk before declaring.

"Since your actions show just how much of an unreasonable and vile you are. How could I accept you as the crown princess and be the future mother of the kingdom! Hence, as of today, Eliana Anderson, you are stripped of your title as the crown princess and from now on Lady Amy Wilson will be the crown princess. Guards! Arrest her and throw her into prison for the crime of harming the crown princess."

You stared, speechless, at the crown prince at such absurdity.

That is when the unsettling feeling you have since you entered this ball completely grasps your whole being as if a slap hit you on the face. A whisper in the back of your mind becomes louder and louder as you feel something within you is on the verge of breaking.

You have always known that the crown prince was a good-for-nothing bastard. A spoiled bastard who only does whatever he pleases but it wasn't to the point of complete idiocy especially when it comes to you as your betrothal was one of the stepping stones on why he became the crown prince however it seems you have overestimated him.

Feeling your arms being restrained by the knights, you struggled. Your control over your emotions slowly slips as your frustrations and anger show.

You tried to regulate your breathing as you looked at the bastard before you, smiling mockingly as you gradually cracked under him.

He turns his head to look at your father who is now being restrained by the knights also when he tried to charge in your defence. A sickening smile on his lips as he taunted your father.

"Ah, Duke Anderson, unfortunately, you'll have to step down from your position as well since the evidence of your embezzlement and illegal actions have been presented to the king. The king has also decided that Marquis Henlyn will be replacing you as the Prime Minister."

Hearing this you curse the crown prince at such an abrupt accusation.

Your father with embezzlement?! Illegal actions?! being replace?!

Such stupidity!

Your father has been nothing but upright and loyal to the kingdom and its people. If it wasn't for him, this kingdom would have long fallen because of its corrupt royal family!

And now he's being falsely accused!? And on top of it, your father is being replaced by Marquis Henlyn who has been rumoured to have smuggled weapons and slavery between your kingdom and the other countries!

Just what kind of parasite is in that bastard's head to have allowed this especially the king!

You gritted your teeth as you yelled, "Your Highness, do you even realize what you're doing?! If you allow this, not only you and the imperial family will be implicated but the kingdom and its people as well! You say my father has done illegal doings and yet haven't you heard that Marquis Henlyn has smuggled not only weapons but has done illegal trading of slavery of our people! My father has been nothing but loyal and honest! Evidence?! It is nothing but a farce! "

Surely even this prince knows how impossible it was to replace your father as his hard work is more evident than this so-called ' evidence'.

Your father's power and authority are the sole reason he's the current crown prince. Removing you and your father would be a foolish move even the king knows this thus the reason he has given that marriage decree without your family's permission and yet why this?!

However, it seems not only have you overestimated the prince but that of the king as well as the prince laughed at you and leaned down as he whispered.

"Do you really think my father cares about your family now that your father has crossed his line? Not only has your father obstructed the royal family again and again, but this time, my father has had enough and since I have gained your father's authority and power, I no longer have any need of your family and my father wholeheartedly agreed to it."

Realization dawned on you as your eyes widened at the truth. A small yet audible sound of snapping resounded in you.

Suddenly a loud heartbroken cry erupted in your throat as you struggled fiercely, no longer caring for anything or your appearance.

Annoyed by your resistance, one of the knights kicks the back of your knees, resulting in you slamming your kneecap onto the floor.

Pain shot through your body. Your eyes reddened and tears welled up, not only from the pain but your control over your bottled emotions have now dissipated.

Gone! Everything you have worked hard for is now gone!

You shook your head and bit your lips until it bleed.

No, this can't be happening!

Even if you hated the crown prince, your position as the crown princess was the only thing that you couldn't let go of.

After all, because of the marriage decree these unscrupulous, unreasonable people have shoved down your throat, you have no choice but to let go of him. Someone so important in your life was exchanged for something you didn't want.

Feeling your cheeks wet, you realize that your tears have finally fallen.

Regret fills you to the point of suffocation as your mind unconsciously remembers the young boy you adored the moment you met him.

How you wish to have held his hand longer...

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay. A relative of mine has passed away and it has been stressful and with work thrown in. It had been chaotic instead which made it harder for me to write and edit.

Though I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the Serendipity Series! If it's not too much, please comment on your thoughts. Thank you!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

#solo leveling #sung jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #AU #Romance #Angst #annulment #divider by saradika #sung jinwoo x reader

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amywritesthings · 4 months ago

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press four for more options. | part four.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), sex work, pet names, alcohol, mentions of drugs, jokes about death Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part three. / return to part one. | masterlist

Night comes around.

You do not call.

In fact, you don't call the Scout Services Hotline a single time that whole weekend.

As you scroll mindlessly through social media in your bed, fluttering between apps without retaining a single word or meme, your cell phone weighs heavily in your hand.

Don't call.

Just don't call.

It isn't like you're devoid of things to do.

Going out is an option.

Being around people may help your mood — but you don’t feel like unearthing from your snuggie poncho.

Putting on a movie can be a great distraction — but you know your attention span would barely last through the opening credits.

It was him.

Right there.

Right in front of you.

Levi from Scout Services, alive and in the flesh, holding your phone.

No amount of mental gymnastics can make you doubt otherwise.

He has a voice like no other; one that haunts your day dreams and soothes your nightmares, one that brings this sudden urge to do better for yourself—

Ironically, to be independent and strong on your own.

Which, actually, really fucking sucks now that you’re stuck with the decision to totally disappear from the gym, too.

(Kind of thwarts the whole ‘new me’ chest-puffing you’d started Friday with.)

So you make a final decision:

You still have to go to the gym Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Even if you say nothing, keep to yourself, remain a shadow, you have to go.

(There’s a fragile line drawn in the sands of reality. You can toe the edge, but you refuse to. This is his livelihood. You’re not delusional to believe you’re a main character exception.)

Coincidentally, Levi goes every day, too.

Your stomach flip-flops with the unsettling realization that your perch on a treadmill actually gives you a perfect vantage point to watch him as he sets his station up every morning.

Meticulously he sets towels down to place his shaker bottle and water thermos down, as if worried the ground hadn’t been cleaned overnight.

He even takes the disinfectant cloths and cleans every dumbbell he lines up neatly before starting his workout.

The dark-haired man truly is less-than-average in height, which isn’t a turn-off to you in the slightest, but his arms — his goddamn arms.

Levi wasn’t kidding when he told you that he could pick you up.

He could probably pick two of you up, one arm each.

They’re so toned, his forearms veiny from morning dehydration.

Training vigorously in his own world, not once does he notice that you’re the bumbling idiot that’s tripped on the treadmill (see: a few times) from dissociating.

Hell, he hasn’t a single fucking clue that you’re close enough to yell across the room to him.

Would he know?

That you’re Scarlet.

His, in some made-up world.

(Does your voice stand out in a sea of lonely people?)

The cleaning ritual extends to his cooldown, where he properly cleans each piece of equipment before nestling it back in its place.

Levi sits on his phone for a second, dropping down to a bench to scroll — text messages.

(Damn it, have you really resorted to minor stalking?)

As soon as he stands, though, you drop your chin to watch your sneakers rhythmically pass one another on the treadmill belt.

He passes like a ghost, evaporating into the men’s locker room without a word.

This is torture.

You miss him.

But you still refuse to call.

Can't — because in another world you may be his, but in this world, he is not yours.

— —

Tuesday night rolls around and you decide you hate life.

Annie, Eren, Reiner, and Mikasa are already there by the time you walk into the downtown hotspot.

The boys as well as Mikasa are still in their suit attire from work, their ties loosened at their necks. Annie’s in a hoodie and jeans, clearly much more interested in having a comfortable evening.

If the emptied shot glasses are any indicator of the plans for this evening, then you steel yourself for one hell of a Wednesday.

You glide through the busy crowds of the bar towards the group.

Bodies upon bodies crowd this place — it’s never not a zoo at this hour, no matter the day. Saying excuse me would only waste breath.

A live band croons on the far end of the smoky bar, forcing everyone to talk ten decibels higher just to hear the conversation.

(Can’t you turn around and go home while you’re ahead?)

In the sea of people, a pair of emerald green eyes over by a cluster of tables in the right-hand corner catch your movement. They widen, recognizing your face, and a lopsided grin of surprise follows.

“Holy shit, she left her cave!” Eren yells, holding up a cheap beer in salute to your arrival.

(Thanks Jeager, you little fuck.)

You don’t hear what she says, but you can see Mikasa’s lips part in tandem with a sharp elbow jab straight to his ribs.

Eren instantly falters his salute, souring in pain.

“I know. Don’t be so shocked,” you state to your colleagues, leaning up against the circular high-top table. “Am I the last to show?”

“Nah, you’re right on time. Armin and Jean’re on their way,” Reiner grunts, holding onto a comically small cosmopolitan in his rather large hand. “Sasha’s on babysitting duty with Nicco.”

You look around the bar for any other familiar faces.

“And Connie?”

“Passed out,” Mikasa supplies. “Took edibles after work.”

“There’s no chance in hell anyone’s waking him,” Eren snorts. “Fucker’s toast.”

Reiner sighs. “For what it’s worth, Jean tried.”

“No, Armin tried,” Annie corrects, finally piping up. She holds something on the rocks — brandy? Whiskey? You can’t tell. “Jean just laughed and kept trying to draw shit on his face.”

“You didn’t see the Snapchat he sent?” Eren asks after a gulp of his beer.

You shake your head, knowing damn well you’ve avoided using your phone for the last several days.

Missed texts, abandoned tagged tweets, your streak in your mobile game ruined — anything so you wouldn’t be tempted to click that little number.

Damn it.

Enough wallowing.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you state, disengaging with the table. “Anyone need anything?”

From your peripheral, you see a familiar mop of blonde hair walking towards your group. At his side is a much taller man sliding through the crowd, navigating the shorter one to the tiny table you’ve commandeered from the masses.

Armin and Jean.

Reiner and Annie shake their heads.

“Nope, I’m solid.”

“Good here.”

“Eren’s got the next round of shots,” Mikasa flatly states. “You’re fine.”

“Ha, hell yeah!” Eren exclaims, before he settles into a confused pause of silence. His head whips to Mikasa, blinking twice. “Wait, what?”

You don’t stick around for that aftermath.

Squeezing back into the lion’s den of people, you try not to get hit with any too-full beverages or waving hands.

You manage to weave and duck, eventually finding a small empty corner at the edge of the bar.

Success.

You rush to claim it before someone else can, your forearm on the wooden surface.

Holding up two fingers to get the one of the three bartender’s attention, she nods once to acknowledge she sees you — she’ll get there eventually.

Two empty stools are available, so you scoot onto the one closest to the wall while waiting for your turn and drop your purse onto the other while you situate yourself.

It’ll likely take a while if the busyness of the staff has anything to say about it.

An hour.

All you need to do is last one whole hour.

Chat a bit, mingle a little so everyone at work doesn’t think you’re a total goddamn recluse, then you can go—

“Is this seat taken?”

A question sounding to your left breaks your train of thought.

The seat.

The one next to you, where your purse lay.

Way to go, dumbass.

You answer on autopilot, not thinking twice about it.

“Oh — shit, yeah. I mean, no! No it’s not. I’m sorry.”

As your torso turns to grab your purse off of the deep red stool, your eyes drop to make sure nothing spills out of it.

“Hold on, let me just move—”

Your chin lifts to find yourself staring eye to eye with Levi.

Wait.

Levi?!

His cheekbones look even sharper under the warm hue of the bar lights overhead, lips parted like he was interrupted in asking a question.

The whites of his eyes grow more prominent with every passing second, making the blue-gray color of them stand out in stark contrast to the black curtain of fringe falling against his temples.

The realization that you spoke — that he’s seen your face before — seems to be hitting him like a goddamn freight train.

Your blood runs cold as your own eyes round.

“...my stuff.”

Weakly you finish your thought, wishing for nothing but death right now.

Maybe a stranger, like a secret agent with wicked strength, will simply rush the bar and put you in a headlock and knock you out.

Maybe your drink will be poisoned.

You’re happy for anything so long as it’s swift.

Levi grunts in acknowledgement, slowly finding a spot on the empty stool beside yours.

Both of you swivel towards the bar, staring ahead.

Silence.

For what feels like hours, neither of you speak. The noise of the bar becomes overwhelming.

Somehow the surrounding voices feel amplified when you’ve lost your own.

It’s trapped between a thousand apologies and half a dozen explanations that sound worse than the one before it.

You need to get up.

Excuse yourself out.

Leave.

You won’t get your damn drink, but that’s fine so long as you’re not here.

“How’s your phone?”

Eventually Levi speaks, and you find yourself wishing he hadn’t.

The effect of his voice is even worse in person — so buttery smooth, the gravel much deeper in his chest now that there isn’t a phone receiver to dilute it.

“Not… damaged,” you reply cautiously.

“Good.”

Another stretch of silence passes, and you forget about ordering drinks altogether.

Your eyes drop to view his folded hands, how the veins protrude even when resting.

His fingers are slender, strong, and hate yourself for yearning.

You have to apologize.

This is crossing a line.

You need to—

“So—”

“I’m canceling my subscription.”

You blurt a fraction later than Levi, proclaiming your innocence before he can ever condemn it.

When you meet his steely eyes, they squint with curiosity.

From the crown of your head to your chin, he assesses in a serpentine pattern before eventually finding your eyes once more.

“How come?” he asks, leaning further against the bar top.

“I— how come?”

You repeat his question in surprise.

Wildly gesturing towards the space between you with your hand, you snort.

“Uh, because that’s the right thing to do in this circumstance? Because seeing you in person is borderline unethical?”

He hums at that, not giving you much to work with.

“And for the record, I did not stalk you to this bar.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

“I’m actually here with friends—”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Levi interrupts, seemingly unbothered by your rambling.

“At the gym. I can make an educated guess and say you knew it was me from the second I opened my trap, but you didn’t say anything.”

Why isn’t he freaking out?

Shouldn’t he be freaking out?

Just as you open your mouth to continue professing your innocence, the bartender walks over and points to you.

“What can I get you?”

You blanch, no longer remember how to order drinks.

“I—”

“I got her tab,” Levi interrupts casually, tapping his index finger into the counter. “Two hard seltzers.”

Then he has the audacity to glance your way.

“Pineapple, right?”

Holy shit, he remembers your favorite flavor?

Is this a flex?

(It kind of feels like a flex; a way to say I know you, I was there.)

“...pineapple’s fine,” you murmur in return, hesitant.

The bartender doesn’t waste another second to rummage in the mini fridge on the other side of the bar for two slim cans.

For another agonizing thirty seconds, neither of you say a word.

He raises his chin to watch whatever sport’s game is playing overhead on the television.

You stare at your mirrored reflection in the bar backsplash.

This is real life.

The man you’ve spent hours talking to over the phone to, getting off to, is sitting right beside you, yet he isn’t trying to create distance.

If anything, he’s buying you a damn drink and asking you why.

Why didn’t you say something?

“I didn’t say anything at the gym because that would have been extremely inappropriate,” you finally argue under your breath, keeping the conversation strictly between you. “What would I have said? ‘Oh hey, guy I've paid to talk to on the phone every single night for the past week. Isn’t it crazy that I actually go to the same gym as you?’ That’s so creepy.”

When he says nothing, still staring at you, you continue to bury yourself into a deeper grave.

“I mean, I thought you lived, like… a billion miles from me. Maybe from another planet.”

His brows pinch with amusement.

“On Mars, or…?”

Oh.

He’s joking.

He’s actually joking about this.

You turn your chin, brow furrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you have to force yourself to maintain eye contact.

“I wondered why you looked so scared of me on Friday. Thought maybe I smelled like shit from my workout.”

No, you want to say. Unfortunately it was the goddamn opposite.

“So you’re not…”

“Worried you’re a stalker trying to dox me because of my job?”

Levi blatantly finishes, and you wince.

Clearly he notices your embarrassment, because he sighs and relaxes his shoulders.

“I’m more pissed that you didn’t call all weekend, but then again, that’s the nature of the job.”

You both watch each other for a moment as the bartender returns, passing you both pineapple hard seltzers to nurse.

He pushes your can to your hand, nudging the icy-cold aluminum against your thumb, then picks up his own.

“The nature of the job?” you repeat, and he nods.

“People get bored. Run out of funds. Novelty wears off fast.”

Levi shrugs, sipping his drink.

“Just because you like talking to someone doesn’t mean they stick around. Wouldn’t blame 'em — shit gets expensive quick.”

“I just…”

You trail off, fighting to find the correct words to say.

“...I thought it wasn’t right to call again, knowing I knew what you looked like, so I didn’t.”

Explaining yourself makes your tongue feel sluggish, like you were caught red-handed in a crime you didn’t know you’d committed until hindsight.

“I can leave you alone,” you decide to add, holding your drink tighter. “Like I said, I’m here with my friends and… after all, you were doing your job. A great job. You’re kind of the reason I’m even here in the first place.”

Levi’s brow knits, and your eyes widen.

“Not like that!”

“Pretty shit at asserting yourself even in person,” he murmurs like it’s a cheeky inside joke, and he sips once more. “So how am I the reason?”

He’s not angry.

Hell, he’s conversational.

Not the least bit worried about how you’ve both managed to get here.

Might as well be honest.

“Because I decided to stop being a little less scared of the world,” you confess softly. “It— That’s why I got to the gym so early on Friday. I wanted to start doing strength training, like how you talk about how much you love it. And… I thought, maybe, I’d spend more time with friends. Get out there more. Be more assertive — beyond right now, obviously.”

The dark-haired man’s expression smooths at that in a mixture of recognition and surprise.

The slide of his brow is beautiful, and your heart squeezes at the sight of an animated Levi in the flesh, just as you pictured.

“Do you have to go back to your friends right now?”

At first you don’t quite register his question, but then it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

He looks left to right, as if trying to find your troop of buddies, before returning his attention back to you.

“You don’t… want me to leave?”

Levi shakes his head.

You feel bolted to your stool, unable to move even if you wanted to.

Simultaneously you sip your drinks, keeping eye contact.

It feels intimate.

Too intimate.

“So, then…” You start slowly. “What does this mean?”

“Well,” Levi begins, mulling it over in his head. “Means the whole provider-client relationship has basically gone to shit. You know my face, now I know yours.”

“Right.”

“Then again, that professionalism was already well into a shit pile way before Friday morning.”

You blink, not following. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing in the company policy about what to do when you stumble into your client at the damn local gym, but there sure as hell wasn’t anything about…”

Levi trails off, clenching his jaw in debate.

“...about crossing the line I practically leapt over. I’m good at my job because of my detachment, but this was the only time I bordered on unethical myself. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Sorry.

Levi… was sorry?

The words blurt faster than you can stop yourself. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

His eyes widen with a budding uncertainty.

“I… just said I crossed the line?”

“When?”

“On the phone?”

“Okay, duh, but when?”

“Our last session.”

“So that was real.”

Levi actually got off to your voice.

If you weren’t in such shock about sitting here face-to-face with him at a local bar, then perhaps your ego would have, in fact, made a crash landing on Mars.

He considers his next words very carefully.

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Then he sips more before shaking his head.

“Look. It’s… a job a friend of mine got me. I’m not a real-life Casanova or any of that shit. Hell, most of my time was spent training punks to fight in a boxing ring, so I never had the energy for relationships or dating.”

You can't hide your surprise. “You were a fighter?”

He makes a noncommittal face.

“Loosely. Personal trainer, training in general — fell into it after I got out of the service.”

“Right, you were in the army,” you murmur, and the edge of his lips upticks at your recollection.

“A couple of months ago the gym I worked for went under, money got tight, so I thought I’d try it out. Guess everyone says it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but bossing fighters around and fielding horny-ass callers ain't all that different."

Levi turns his chin just so to regard you under a wispy black fringe.

“I can usually predict what someone wants. The people that call this hotline shit, they’re in and out."

He takes a pause.

"You, though — the second I picked up your call, you threw me through a goddamn loop.”

You use your nail on your index finger to absently scratch the side of your thumb, attempting to process everything he’s telling you.

"First night we spoke, actually, I ended up at this very bar to contemplate why the fuck I wanted you to call back. Didn't want you blowing your money on it, obviously, it's overpriced and ridiculous, but — it clearly shook me up enough for me to take then ten-minute walk in the middle of the night in the first place."

Ten minutes.

That length of time strikes something in you.

“So, your… office building isn’t far?” you slowly ask.

Levi shakes his head. “No, no office. I work remotely. Kind of the reason why I took the gig in the first place. I wouldn’t do this shit if I had an audience in a damn two-by-four cube.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to confess it, but you point past your shoulder.

“My apartment complex is actually six blocks down the street.”

Ten minutes away, is your implication.

His hand had raised to sip from his seltzer can, but it halts immediately.

His eyes narrow.

“The complex on Junction Ave?”

“Yeah," you say.

“Right across from—”

“The Reiss deli.”

That narrowed gaze shoots wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“You say the word shit a lot.”

“Baby, I live there,” he blurts.

“Wait, what?”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

(You’re too shocked to even process what he called you.)

He huffs in a brief laugh, shaking his head.

“You gotta be fucking with me.”

“I’m not! Wait, you live in the same building as me?”

“You said Thomas was your goddamn mailman,” Levi states. “Do you know how many fucking Thomas the Mailmen there are in this world? I didn’t think we’d have the same one.”

Holy shit.

Oh, holy shit.

You sit up taller in your seat. “Wait, what floor?”

“Sixteenth.”

“I’m on the tenth!” you exclaim in your shock. “Holy shit, so you…”

Have been right above me this entire time.

Your phone buzzes, ruining your train of thought.

Reflexively you look down to see the preview of Annie’s message over your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Did u die?

Right.

You’re here with friends.

“Friends wondering where you are?” Levi inquiries at the sight of your growing frown.

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

You swipe the screen north and type a reply.

[ME]: Talking to someone. Be over in a bit.

Annie’s reply is immediate, and you turn your phone from Levi’s view in mortification.

[A. LEONHART]: 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

[A. LEONHART]: WINGMAN??? NEED????

[ME]: NO! Do not come over here!

[A. LEONHART]: ok ok ok noted

[A. LEONHART]: i’ll keep jaeger to the left end of the bar

“Looks urgent.”

“Huh?”

You shoot a glance back up to Levi, who’s now angled towards you with his cheek squished against his clenched fist. His elbow props him up on the bar top.

“No! No. It’s just my friend Annie. She — is actually the one who gave me the number to that hotline in the first place,” you confess.

Levi hums in that delicious way you’ve come to crave.

“I don’t want to derail your evening. I’ve already taken you away from them for a while.”

Your heart is hesitant, but it grows despite yourself.

“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay,” you quietly state. “I… liked talking to you. I mean, beyond the whole — you know.”

He nods once, setting his drink down.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to disappear, either. My job’s not exactly corporate. Not many people can separate fantasy from reality. With you, I never had to bullshit what it was, but…”

Levi trails off, sighing heavily.

“...but I also understand if it’s just a fantasy, for you.”

Something nestles itself between the lines of his words.

Something he isn’t saying outright, sussing out if he has any right to try.

“Do you really mean that, Levi?”

That sigh turns into a curbed huff, smile fleeting but enough to bring your stomach butterflies.

“Damn. Sounds nice, hearing my name in person.”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

You could scream into your damn seltzer, but you decide to play it as cool as you possibly can.

“So Levi’s your real name?”

He nods.

“Not creative enough to come up with an alias."

Levi shifts, rolling out a shoulder.

"But to answer your question, I’m saying I… yeah, I mean it. I wouldn’t mind asking you out for coffee sometime, given we seem to run on the same gym schedule as it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to leave it at the hotline and call it a day — no pun intended.”

Are you seriously hearing what he’s saying right now?

Does Levi want to step out of a fantasy and into your reality?

Your lips part with a million questions only to end up blurting a very stupid one:

“Are you single?”

That earns a bark of a laugh, causing his head to gloriously drop back, exposing his neck.

(All you want to do is sink your teeth into it.)

“Yes. Very,” he promises. “Are you, still?”

“Very,” you promise back.

“And my job doesn’t bother you?”

You haven't quite gotten that far, logistically, but it's only a coffee.

He isn't asking to marry you.

Besides, he talks about it like any other office job. You can't find any ill feeling toward it.

“Work is work,” you argue with a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, it’s unconventional, but… I’m so used to not knowing what I want, or second-guessing what’s good for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever second guessed a damn thing with you.”

Bringing the seltzer back up to his mouth, Levi smirks against the can, mulling something over.

You smile in return, sipping your drink.

It's the truth.

He may not really know you, but he knows you.

Just as you're beginning to think you know him.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

He steals a ballpoint pen from a dampened closed check from his left side.

Then he snatches a napkin from one of the bartending stations with lemons, limes, and straws.

Hunching over, he scribbles on said napkin, before turning a cheek to you.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow morning—”

Levi then sits up taller, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand resting on the bar top.

His skin is smooth.

Heated.

Your entire body melts to his whim as he turns your wrist over, palm facing up.

One by one his fingers unfurl your fingers, nestles the napkin in your hand, then closes your fist for safe keeping.

“—give me a call.”

Leaving a twenty on the bar counter, Levi lets go of your hand to slip off of his stool.

You say nothing as you watch him give you one last once-over, expression full of admiration, before turning into the sea of people.

A call.

Flexing your hand, you uncrinkle the napkin to read the number etched black on white.

Not the Scout Services Hotline.

No — his number.

Your attention flies back to the original spot where you've now properly abandoned your friends, but you know they'll forgive you for your absence.

Annie knows.

She'll cover for your abrupt disappearance.

On autopilot you yank out your phone, bypassing the texts from your friends, emails from work, and tap the little telephone icon.

Zero through nine appear.

Hastily you type the number, hesitation long gone, and press send.

One ring.

Two.

By the third, it abruptly cuts. You hear shuffling in the background. Cars beeping.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

Levi Ackerman.

Knowing his full name warms your heart.

Standing from your stool, you rise to your toes to search the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Levi stands there on the sidewalk, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

Immediately he turns to the bar, searching the very same window.

Searching for you.

You smile to yourself.

"My schedule just opened up. I know it's a little late for some coffee, but..."

Trailing off, your teeth catch your bottom lip.

Be selfish.

"Are you free for some tea now?”

FIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

How are we feeling, Hotliner Nation? I teased that this may not be the end of this story. I'm not against writing a sequel, whether to continue the immediate story or time skip, but I wanted to see what people thought before I spoke too soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed our hotline journey together.

In the meantime I invite you to follow me here or subscribe to my AO3, as I have other projects in the works (including finishing the final chapters of my canon-based amnesia au with Levi, Silver Underground.)

The last two months have been such a wonderful journey, and I thank every single one of you for engaging the way you have. I never anticipated such a frenzy when I started P4, so sincerely, from the bottom of my heart - thank you for the comments, reblogs, inbox mssgs, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot fanfic #aot fic #snk fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #aot smut #aot x reader #snk smut #snk x reader

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awearywritersworld · 1 year ago

Text

tell me you don't want me

gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo adds falling in love with his dead best friend's little sister to the list of things that keep him up at night w/c: 1.8k tags/warnings: angst to fluff. gojo takes care of reader when they have a migraine. they watch shark week together, so shark haters beware. arguing, but nothing super harsh. protective!gojo. reader is referred to as a sister but there are no pronouns. gojo is around 27, reader 23. curse words. no out right smut, but a heavily suggestive ending so lets say 18+ a/n: i've been writing purely fluff for gojo, so it seems about time to return to my angst/fluff roots. today's epi made me had me feeling some type of way. may write a part two to this? idk lemme know what you think! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

after you arrived at jujutsu high as a first year, everyone wore the same expression when they looked at you, their eyes full of pity and apprehension. you really couldn't blame them though. after what happened with suguru, you were left a shell of yourself, paranoid that you were destined to the same fate as your older brother.

however, the boy that suguru called his best friend held something different in his gaze whenever his eyes fell on you. understanding, maybe? gojo knew that if there was anyone in the world who missed suguru as much as he did, it had to be you.

for most of the year, the two of you really only talked in passing, dancing around a discussion neither of you were brave enough to initiate. then your brother's birthday rolled around and you found yourself drenched in rain, sneaking into the boys' dormitory to knock on gojo satoru's door.

he wasn't surprised to find you standing there.

"that idiot always refused to let me celebrate his birthday," you blurted out, damp hair sticking to your forehead.

he laughed. it was just a breath, but it was still genuine. "right? he couldn't stand being fussed over for one day."

and as you both stood there, rain pattering against the window, you felt months of unspoken tension melt away. "well, come in. i bought cake."

after that day, gojo took on the roll of your older brother and he really leaned into it. flicking your forehead to annoy you, threatening anyone he thought had a crush on you, giving you advice whenever he deemed you needed it.

you weren't sure if he was aware, even after all these years, that he'd saved you— pulled you away from the brink. you became like the little sister he never had, while he tried his best to fill the hole suguru had left in your heart.

gojo spends more time in your apartment than his own, so it's no surprise when he barges in one afternoon, singing out your name (rather terribly, one might add).

"i have a migraine, 'toru," you groan from the couch, pulling the blanket up over your head as the bright light from behind his figure worsens your discomfort. all of your blinds are shut, the curtains pulled together. "can you please close the door?"

he hums, stepping inside and pulling the door shut quietly. "you seem to be getting them a lot lately."

"probably because i spend so much time with you," you whine facetiously.

he gasps, hand clutching at his heart. "i come all the way here to visit you, only to be ridiculed. my devastation is untellable."

after grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet, he pads over to the kitchen sink. you peer at him from under the blanket as he runs it under cold water, noting how the veins in his forearms become more prominent once he wrings it out.

you're laying across the entirety of the couch, but you scoot away from the edge and he situates himself in the space beside your hip, his body facing you. the corner of his mouth is turned down, evidence of the worry swirling in his chest. he presses the back of his fingers to your forehead before folding the cloth neatly and laying it there.

"you should mention the migraines to shoko," he suggests earnestly.

"they just flare up sometimes, you know that. it's really not a big deal."

"yeah, maybe.. but i still worry about you."

you can't help but notice how close he is and while it feels casual, it also feels... intimate? the cold cloth does bring some relief to your head, though you'd have preferred it if his hand had remained there instead.

"have you eaten?" he questions after a moment, pulling you from your thoughts.

"not yet."

"then i'll go pick up some food," he offers, rising to his feet. "do you need anything else-"

"no," you say a little too quickly, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. "i mean.. can you just stay?"

he suddenly looks very smug. "oh, what's this? are you sure spending more time with me won't make your head feel worse?"

you attempt to roll your eyes but the movement sends a sharp pain through your skull, causing you to grumble. "don't make me hurt you satoru. i was joking."

"i know," he smirks, decently self satisfied. "but you do have to eat, so-"

"there's leftover egg drop in the fridge, can you just warm that up for me please?"

"'course! anything for you, (y/n)-chan!"

his tone makes it sound as if he's teasing you, but he knows it's the truth. he's painfully aware that there isn't a thing you could ask of him that he'd deny. he tries not to think about that though, because he can't bring himself to admit what it all means.

once your soup is ready, he joins you on the couch. you move to sit up and while that makes plenty of room for him, he still lifts your legs, sitting so that they lay across his lap. one of his hands is resting on your shin, the other on your knee.

"shark week?" he suggests as you reach for the remote.

you nod eagerly. "yes."

the two of you have never fought before.

well, maybe that's not entirely true. it isn't uncommon for the both of you to argue over video games, the latest chapter of a manga, or other things of that nature. but you and gojo have never had a genuine disagreement.

that is, until you mention wanting to challenge a decision made by the higher ups. he's well aware of how they deal with people they deem troublesome, so he can't help the vexation that bubbles up in his chest at your words.

"absolutely not," he tells you. his voice is low, not one hint of amusement to be found.

the tone leaves you narrowing your eyes, and you sound a bit misbelieving when you ask, "what do you mean 'absolutely not'?"

after everything that happened with geto, the higher ups have been wary of you. honestly, they're probably just looking for an excuse to pull another stunt like the detention center and he can't risk that. he can't risk losing you.

rather than express any part of that sentiment, however, he just goes all stone faced and vague. it's weird, so naturally it's followed by a bit of back and forth that goes nowhere, the conversation growing unreasonably volatile with each passing second.

why can't you just listen to him? why can't you give him the benefit of the doubt? he's earned that by now, hasn't he?

"i don't understand!" you hiss, your chest heaving with indignation. "why are you acting like this?"

because i love you. because i need you. because you mean more to me than everything else in this world put together.

he can't possibly say that though.. can't lay his shame bare for you to see.. can't bring himself to admit the feelings he has for you.

he's in love with dead best friend's little sister and it's wrong. it keeps him up at night. claws away at his self respect.

"i'll take care of it," he promises, sounding a bit defeated. "just please stay out of it."

"quit treating me like i'm a child, satoru. you're not my father."

your assertion makes the air in the room shift, and the feeling that forms in the pit of gojo's stomach is not unlike a cord being pulled too taut before snapping.

"so what am i then, huh? what am i to you?" he interrogates, taking a step toward you.

his eyes burn with intensity and the conviction in his voice is dizzying, especially since it's meant only for you. he immediately notices the way you stiffen, suddenly unable to meet his eye.

he swallows thickly, any restraint he has left ebbing away once he hears your small, nervous voice. "'toru, w... what do you-"

you're cut off when he takes another step in your direction, your back meeting with the wall after you attempt to maintain the space between the both of you.

one of his palms presses to the wall beside your head, though the other remains at his side. he doesn't want to trap you there, not when he still doesn't have a clear idea of how you're feeling.

his breath fans across your face, your mind struggling to process what was happening. you whisper his name, unsure of how else to respond.

"i want you." he nearly chokes on the words, the pain of admitting them evident in his voice. "want you more than anything."

and he does. he wants you more than the sleep he never gets. more than he wants to honor suguru. more than he wants to be a good man.

his head dips down, your breath catching in your throat when his lips find the spot on your jaw just below your ear.

"please, tell me to stop," he begs, sending a shiver down your spine.

your hands move to his chest, the rise and fall of it uneven and sporadic. god, you make him so fucking weak it's almost pathetic.

his lips shift to your cheek, closer to your mouth, and his hand reaches up to cradle the other side of your face. he sounds irrevocably desperate now, "tell me you don't want me."

your heart's beating so loudly in your ear drums, you can hardly hear yourself speak. "satoru, please."

"please what?" he asks, and for a moment you're unsure of the answer.

you try to open your mouth once more, but the words are lodged in your throat. confusion and frustration rattle around in your head, making it difficult to string together your thoughts. finally you just give in, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling his lips against your own.

he let's out a strangled noise, some unknowable mix of pleasure and relief. his hands land on your hips at once, greedily pulling your body against his own.

his lips are chapped, but they're perfect in the way they move against yours. the kiss isn't clumsy, nor is it unsure. it's ardent and comfortable, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

you pull away first, each of you holding the other's gaze. you're both hazy eyed, your mouths curved into giddy, lovesick grins.

gojo doesn't hesitate when you glance down at his lips, your words easing that bitter self loathing he'd been enduring for longer than he cares to admit. "if you want me... then make me yours."

taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst

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luveline · 11 months ago

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I’m on my knees for anything bombshell and spence 🙏🏽 maybe their first real date??? or them working a case after they are officially together

Oh, the misery.

You and Spencer are supposed to be in a low lit restaurant right now feeding each other spoonfuls of parsnip soup between lovey-dovey eyefuls of one another, legs tangled under the table, your kitten heel scratching against the rubber sole of his converse.

You're supposed to be dressed to the nines, your shawl fragrant with the vanilla perfume Spencer likes so much, a dress cut to the thigh that shows just a little too much when you lean forward. You're supposed to be kissing like idiots in the back seat of your car.

“They haven't seen anything this bad since the Creek Killer, and this is two active UnSub's at once, so let's keep that in mind,” Hotch says, nodding to the door for Rossi to follow. He sends you and Spencer a look that may or may not be knowing as he adds, “And keep this professional.”

“Aren't we professional?” you ask Spencer.

“No!” Morgan calls, he and Emily already out the door.

Hotch and Rossi are on crime scene duty. Morgan and Emily the victim's family. JJ will be snapping at the heels of the ravenous media in an attempt to dissuade them from following this case too closely: it's a bad one. Coverage will make it worse.

You're on theory. There are two halves to your job —analysing past cases with similarities, and scrutinising the details of the current case. What you really want is to be analysing Spencer Reid's stupid hot face, and for his hands to be scrutinising your hips. Or your legs. Or your mouth.

“I know what you're thinking.”

You raise your eyebrows at Spencer. “I don't think you do.”

He laughs, “No, I do.” His tie gets caught under his elbow as he grabs your notebook. “They always give you the worst jobs.”

“That's just not true, Mr. Reid. This is my very favourite job.”

“Dr. Reid,” Spencer corrects, a smile already playing on his lips in anticipation of your reaction.

You needle an elbow into his side until he huffs and pulls away. Surrendering. Typical. Displaced air fans your hand as he opens your notebook to a blank page. “We'll start with UnSub commonalities, just as soon as…” he murmurs, his pen scratching across the top line. You can't see past his shoulder.

“Serials targeting women,” you say immediately. “Likely older, white, male, the usual. Murders are incisive, and disgusting, but the signatures are so different, they can't be– Does the pen not work?”

Spencer shakes his head, sliding the notebook across the table to you. “Had to do this first.”

Caveats for perfect first date, Spencer's written, a list with one lonely bullet point. Me and you together.

You shouldn't be surprised. It's really not unlike him to be sweet, but this is alarmingly confident. I'm gonna eat him, you think, looking up with a smirk that turns soft at the sight of him. His cheeks are marbling with red flush, hair in his eyes as he stares anywhere but you.

“Spence, are you blushing?” you ask fondly.

“Don't be upset about tonight,” he murmurs, ignoring you with a hint of worry to his tone. “I know it's not what you wanted, but I– we can still go, when we're home–”

You press your lips together in an unsuccessful attempt to hide your smile. “Yeah, we can still go, but you're right, Spence. You are. This is as good a place as any. 'N' I can make any date perfect.”

Your joke rescues him from the depths of mortification. He clears his throat, says, “Exactly. But we should get back to the list.”

He takes your hand under the table, long fingers sewn between yours.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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queenpiranhadon · 26 days ago

Text

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⭑.ᐟ : Your brother asked you to watch over his adopted sons for the night while he attended an important meeting. However, he forgot that he had asked you in the first place, and in the midst of all the confusion, you're now tasked with babysitting your two nephews alongside your brother's friend, Nanami Kento.

⭑ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Not really much, fluffy fluffy fluff, you're Gojo's younger sister by like a year, you're 28, he's 27, Yuji and Megumi are your adopted nephews, fem!reader, ooc? etc etc.

⭑ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Nanami Kento x Reader

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ⭑

You're pulling up into your brother's driveway when another parked car catches your eye.

You frown slightly. Satoru never said anything about having anyone else over.

He had called you a week ago to watch over his adopted sons for the day, Yuji and Megumi; though knowing him, he probably forgot.

You sigh. Might as well go see your nephews anyway - since you came all the way.

Parking your car in the driveway, you make your way onto the porch to ring the doorbell.

Immediately, you hear screaming and chaos from within the house, snorting as you come to the conclusion that it's probably Yuji and Megumi clamoring to the door. Though, your idiot brother most likely had a hand in the destruction that was occurring too.

Eventually someone opens the door, and to your surprise it's someone new.

A tall man, around your age or older, with sandy blonde hair and gorgeous brown eyes. He's wearing a nice polo and slacks, undoubtedly something a little over the top for what you assumed to be babysitting, but you found it cute.

It may or may not have taken you a while to realize you were staring though.

Clearing your throat you look to the side while flashing the man an awkward smile.

"S-Sorry! I-uh, I'm Satoru's sister" you say, giving him your name while sticking out your right hand for a handshake.

The man looks amused, reciprocating your handshake and chuckles lightly. "No worries. My name is Nanami."

Just then, Satoru comes barreling in, a child in each arm. His hair is mussed up and his sunglasses are crooked, something you point out to which he groans, setting Yuji and Megumi down, only for them to run out the door and attach themselves to your legs.

"Hi Auntie!" Yuji chirps, grinning widely as his looks up at him excitedly.

Megumi doesn't say anything, being the quieter of the two, but you don't miss the small smile on his face as he smushes his cheek against your leg in a hug.

You chuckle, ruffling their hair affectionately. "I missed you too, boys. Is Satoru treating you okay?"

Yuji huffs and shakes his head vehemently. "He's a meanie."

You raise an eyebrow and your brother stares at the pink haired boy incredulously. "What do you mean?! I let you have dessert before breakfast yesterday!"

You glare at Satoru and sigh, lifting up Megumi so you were carrying him on his back, and gently detaching Yuji from your leg in favor of holding his hand.

"And I'm assuming that means you forgot you wanted me to babysit last week?" you ask, and Megumi peeks his little face over your shoulder judgmentally.

Your brother groans. "Ah shoot... completely slipped my mind. Completely forgot I texted you with everything going on..." he looks at your helplessly and you relent.

Sighing, you finally step inside the house, and turn towards Nanami, no longer as awkward as you initially were as you slip into Auntie mode.

"How about this- you go to that super important meeting you needed to attend and Nanami and I will stay here and watch over the boys. I'm sure we can handle it, right?"

"Yes, we will be fine. We'd probably do better than you anyways." Nanami says, rolling his eyes and you fight off the urge to laugh.

Ignoring his friend's comment, your brother wraps you in a one armed hug before grabbing his coat and thanking you both one last time, closing the front door and dashing to his car.

Megumi still on your back, groans. "I'm hungry."

Yuji nods. "Me too!"

You chuckle, walking to the kitchen to whip up something for dinner, setting Megumi down as you face the man behind you. "Nanami, do you want to keep them occupied while I make something? I won't be long, maybe only 15 minutes."

The blonde haired male nods, scooping Yuji and Megumi up in his muscled arms. "Sounds alright to me. We'll be in the living room."

You smile and rummage around the kitchen, praying to some supernatural force that the only thing Satoru kept in here wasn't just loads of sweets. Thankfully, your brother had some sense left in him and you found a decent amount of rice noodles in the pantry along with some broth and vegetables.

Putting together a decent meal, you put the bowls of steaming noodles on a tray and bring it to the living room where the boys are.

You find Yuji and Megumi watching Nanami in interest as he recounts a story from his work, only to bolt up immediately at the sight on you with food.

You place them down on coasters on the coffee table, warning them that the noodles were hot and to be careful, before handing a bowl to Nanami with a smile.

"Here- I'm not sure if you've babysitted these two before, but eat up, because you're going to need the energy."

Nanami smiles slightly. "Thank you. It looks amazing."

You feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach from his earnest compliment, nods, motioning to the kitchen.

"I'm going to grab some water for us - want to come?" You ask, and he nods, setting his bowl down on a coater and gets up to follow you to the kitchen.

Looking around the kitchen you groan, not realizing the step stool wasn't present in the room. You see the cabinet where your brother keeps his cups and curse your parents in your mind for giving him such tall genetics as you attempt to reach the cup on the shelf.

"Here, let me get that for you." Nanami's deep voice comes out from behind you and you freeze, realizing just how close he is, basically trapping you against the counter as his chest brushed against your back, grabbing four cups for you.

He hands them to you as you turn around, your eyes meeting with him beautiful brown ones, and yet again, you find yourself staring.

Clearing your throat awkwardly for a second time, you look away, and mumble out a thank you.

You fill up the four cups, and with Nanami's help you bring them back to the living room, handing them to the boys before digging in to your respective bowls of noodles.

Nanami offers to do the dishes, and you smile warmly as you thank him and usher the boys upstairs to get ready for bed.

However, even after they've brushed, showered, and settled into their pajamas, they still have energy for one last game for the day.

"Can we play 20 questions?" Yuji asks, plopping down on the large rug in his shared room with Megumi and you sigh, chuckling lightly as you sit down, patting the space in front of you and Megumi and Yuji sit down excitedly.

At that moment, Nanami comes upstairs, sitting down next to you across from the boys.

"What are we doing?"He asks, and Yuji grins at him widely.

"We get to ask you guys questions!" he chirps, and Megumi nods.

"Wait, that's not how-"

"Why don't you have a wife?" Yuji asks the man to your right, catching the both of you off guard.

"Uh- well, how do you know I don't?"Nanami asks, raising an eyebrow at the very inquisitive child.

"Do you have a wife?" Megumi asks immediately, mirroring the man's expression.

"Well- no."

"Then why don't you have a wife?" Megumi asks, and you want to laugh at the man's visible discomfort.

"How about we move on, yeah?" you say, trying to show a little mercy to the poor blonde.

"You many friends do you have?" Yuji asks, turning to you and you blink, unsure of how to answer.

"Um...three...?" You answer, a little sheepish.

"That's not many." Megumi says, unimpressed.

"Why do you only have three friends?" Yuji asks incredulously, his golden eyes impossibly wide.

"Well, um... back to him!" you chuckle nervously, nudging Nanami with your shoulder to change the topic.

"How come we only see you during the holidays?" Yuji asks Nanami curiously.

"Because I work an office job." Nanami answers, relieved to have a question he can answer.

"Is that why you don't have a wife?" Megumi asks and Nanami looks like he doesn't know why he puts up with the boys' antics.

He sighs, and stands up, brushing off his slacks. "Okay, enough questions - time for bed."

Yuji and Megumi groan, but you quiet their complaints with a knowing smile.

"Hey now, no frowns. If you two go to bed right now without complaints, you'll get a bedtime story."

Yuji and Megumi brighten up immediately. Your stories held a very high reputation in the Gojo household, and they knew it, racing to their beds and eagerly diving under the covers, awaiting your story. Sitting on Megumi's bed, and Nanami sitting on Yuji's you take a deep breath, and start recounting a story about a grumpy dinosaur who didn't have many friends.

"Did the dinosaur work in an office?" Megumi mumbles and Yuji is thrown into a fit of giggles.

You frown and flick Megumi's shoulder lightly. "Be nice, boys, and apologize."

"Sorry Mr. Nanami..." the boys mumble and you sigh quieting them again, sending an apologetic look to the blonde on Yuji's bed to which he responds with an amused expression.

"Good. Now, it was the dinosaur's birthday and...."

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈꒰ა ⭑ ໒꒱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

It's late at night now, the boys fast asleep as you sit on the balcony floor that overlooks the backyard.

You hear the door slide open, and suddenly Nanami joins you on the wooden floor, heat radiating off of him and you have to physically restrain yourself from getting closer to its source.

"So, you've been doing this for a long time, right?" He asks, and you turn to him, surprised.

"Huh? Oh yeah, Satoru adopted them the year we graduated, so I've had my fair share of babysitting duties since then."

"Oh, you and Gojo are the same age? I figured you'd be older, given how mature you are in comparison."

You snort. "To be fair, there isn't much maturity to compare myself against. We're basically the same age, Satoru was one of the oldest in our year and I was one of the youngest, so we're a little over a year apart. How old are you?"

Nanami chuckles. "I'm 27, so a year younger than you."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You're kidding, I thought you were older than me! You're so put together in comparison to Satoru."

Nanami laughs. "And here I thought we weren't comparing ourselves to Gojo."

You laugh alongside him, sighing as you enter a comfortable silence, leaning against the walls of the house and staring at the stars.

"Call me Kento."

"What?"

"My first name. Call me Kento."

Your eyes widen, as the butterflies in your stomach are surely going crazy by now, but you manage to smile.

"Alright! Call me Y/N then. Don't think you'd want to call me Gojo too."

Nanami shakes his head, smiling. "No, you are far too special to be referred to by your surname."

You blink, staring at him, flustered. Did he just call you...special?

You can't bring yourself to look at him without dying from giddiness, but staring at the stars, you manage to speak.

"Thank you... I think you're pretty special too, Kento."

A/N: Heheh they're total dorks <3

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @callmeanythingyouwant00

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@marie-is-in-the-dark @beaniesayshi @abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @meddykip

@riririr11 @ladygojooo @abyzissupersleepy @lilaccmilk @anime2006

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peppermintquartz · 7 days ago

Note

Internet hug because this kind of sucks! If you would like:

Buck doesn't let Tommy just break up with him without a fight and they have an actual discussion about why Tommy can't be Buck's first And his last.

Buck remains frozen in his chair until the door clicks shut, at which he leaps up and yanks it open.

The force which he uses must have surprised Tommy, who is just a few steps away in the corridor.

"Don't you dare leave," Buck snaps out and grabs the older man's wrist. His vehemence catches Tommy off guard too, it seems, because Tommy lets him drag them back inside the loft without any resistance.

Once they're inside, Buck shuts and leans his back against the front door.

"Buck-"

"Evan! I am Evan to you," Buck corrects. His voice is frantic, nearly angry. Good. He is caught between fury and desperation anyway. "And you don't get to tell me how I may feel in the future. Like I can't tell you how you may feel in the future." He gulps. "We're first responders, Tommy. We may die on our next shifts. Can you predict that? Or maybe, maybe you get in your truck, and the next thing you know, some idiot SUV crashes into you. Or this building collapses."

Tommy makes an abortive motion to move forward but stops. "Buck-"

"Call me that again and I will hit you, I swear to God," Buck snarls. He's fighting back tears. "You know why I let you call me Evan."

"Because that's how you introduced yourself to me," Tommy said quietly.

Buck takes three strides forward and grabs Tommy by his shirt to pull him close. "Because I love you!"

It's the first time he's said it.

It feels right. It feels like fire and it feels like comfort and it feels like home.

"I, Evan Buckley, love you, Tommy Kinard, and I want this relationship with you to be my forever," he declares, staring right into Tommy's storm-blue eyes. When Tommy averts his gaze, Buck cups his cheek and makes direct eye contact again. "What are you really afraid of, Tommy? Because I know that your breaking up with me isn't because you're afraid of breaking your heart." He swallows, his throat already in pain. "Because your heart is breaking right now, and mine as well."

Tears are racing down both their faces. Tommy licks his lips and shudders as he bows his head. "I'm sorry. It's just... I told myself, I was moving at your pace, and I really thought I was ready, but now, it's so fast, and I'm not sure I can be what you want, Evan. I don't know if I can be what you want, and I don't want to fall short and be told I'm not good enough, not again-"

Buck kisses Tommy quiet. It feels exactly as it should. Like this is what their lips are made for.

"Thomas Kinard," Buck whispers, "you silly, stupid, self-sabotaging man."

"Evan..."

Leaning his forehead against Tommy's, Buck continues, "You worry you're not enough? I worry I'm too much. Don't you see? We're meant for each other. We complement each other, Tommy, in our strengths and our flaws, and you're enough for me, okay? You're who I want. You are who I need. You are. You take care of me the way I need to be, you let me be who I am, late night research and curses and eulogies to a dead dude and everything, and I honestly forgot where I was going with that, except that I don't want you to walk out of my life just because some voice in your head tells you a lie."

He stops talking. He's still cupping Tommy's face, still breathing his air.

Tommy nudges his nose against Buck's. "You really want me?" His voice is small, nervous.

"Yes, you idiot. Which part of 'I love you' are you not hearing? I love you, I am in love with you."

Another tremble shake through Tommy's frame, and he places his hands on Buck's waist. "I love you, Evan. I'm in love with you." He sniffles, and then chuckles damply. "God. We're both so snotty and gross right now."

"And whose fault is that?" Buck teases, his voice nasal and his throat sore. He slides his hands down, face to jaw to neck to broad shoulders. "You don't have to move in. But stay, okay? I need you to stay. To choose me. Not the lying liar in your brain."

"I'll stay. I'll stay until-"

"There is no until." Buck is adamant. "It's you, Tommy."

Tommy nods, smiling, and then huffs a short laugh. "Actually, you should move in with me. I have way more space than you, and a car lift and a Muay Thai setup. Eddie will kill me if I give all that up for this place."

"Can't have Eddie killing the man I love now." Buck brushes his nose along the side of Tommy's. "Okay. I'll move in with you."

Tommy kisses him, this time lingering, an unspoken question. Buck smiles into the kiss, and leads Tommy up the stairs to the bed.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #it ran away from me #too many heightened emotions to have a discussion

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reiderwriter · 7 months ago

Note

I have a hotch request and if you don’t write it I completely understand☺️

So you’re dating hotch for a couple months and you’ve only went over to his house like 5-6 times(so that’s how many times you’ve hung out with jack) anyway, you go to use the washroom or something before you leave to go home and jack asks his dad if you’re his gf and if you’ll be having a sleepover with them (as you’ve never actually stayed there before) and his heart becomes all warm n fluffy

A/N: Hi! I don't usually write for Hotch, but I decided to give it a crack because this fits pretty well for @imagining-in-the-margins KidFic challenge! It was a fun challenge to write, so thanks for the prompt! I changed it up slightly, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, step-family dynamics, etc.

10 months of casual dinners, midnight strolls, and stolen kisses, and you still weren't ready to accept that you were in love with your boss.

Aaron Hotchner was a complicated man, and loving him wasn't as simple as your heart wanted it to be. You worked together but rejected any favouritism he may have shown you. You slept together, but you never stayed in his bed. You kissed him, but you never told him you loved him, even though you were sure you did.

You just weren't sure you were ready to be a stepmother.

As a child of divorce, you'd been graced with two step-parents growing up, and while neither were story book evil, they weren't exactly the most welcoming either. You'd bounced between your mother and father's houses, trailing duffle bags, afraid to take up too much space for fear of ruining your parents’ newfound and direly earned happiness.

Jack had the misfortune of being both a child of divorce and having lost his mother entirely too young and entirely too suddenly.

When you'd joined the BAU, off the back of Haley Hotchner’s death, Aaron had been a man in mourning, a man scarred by circumstance and regret. But he'd been brave, and he'd been loving, and he'd worked so hard to give his son a good life.

Five years later, and it seemed obvious now that you had at least respected the man from the very beginning, if not pined for him quite openly.

There was that final hurdle left to cross, though, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be ready to do so.

A phone call startled you out of your worries as you sat on your couch, dissociating after a long and hard won case. The shrill ring startled you into action as you frantically searched for wherever it was this time that you left your phone.

“Hello, yes, I'm here, hi,” you said, finally finding the phone abandoned under some couch pillows.

“Y/N, it's Aaron.”

“I know, Aaron. Caller ID, welcome to the 21st century,” You couldn't help smiling into the receiver, so smitten with the man your face was just doing whatever it liked.

“Right. Look, I wouldn't usually overstep like this, but Jessica and I have to go upto Roy's retirement house, he's not dealing too well with the new environments, and all of Jack's regular babysitters are enjoying the spring weather. I'd ask his friends' moms for an impromptu playmate but-”

“But you'd rather he be with someone you trust? Aaron, it's fine, I'll come over and watch Jack for a few hours.”

He sighed into the receiver, and after a few more niceties, you ended the call, still grinning like an idiot.

You were still grinning like an idiot when your earlier anxiety came back and hit you straight in the chest. You'd met Jack before, but you'd not so subtly avoided any kid based conversations and meet-ups for the last 10 months.

You had no idea how to entertain a nine year old boy, but you decided quickly that you couldn't half ass it.

The drive to Hotch's house was almost embarrassingly familiar to you now, having been there so often in the past few months. Jack enjoyed regular sleepovers with his aunt and schoolmates so you could enjoy regular sleepovers with his father, a fact that you had to remind yourself to keep private as you knocked on the door.

“It's open,” Aaron called from inside, and you hesitantly opened the door and stepped in, bag of last-minute toy purchases stuffed under your arm.

From the door, you could see Aaron in the kitchen, hands deep in soapy water as he washed lunch dishes and pots, sticking his head out to smile at you.

“Aaron Hotchner, domestic goddess. Who’d have thought?”

“I'd ask you to keep this to yourself at work.”

“Of course,” you said, stepping a fraction closer to him. “Anything to keep the mystery alive.”

He leaned in for a quick kiss, and you reciprocated, letting it linger a second as you smiled into his touch.

Drying his hands on a towel near him, Aaron called across the apartment for Jack.

“What's up, Dad?” He asked, peeking out of his bedroom door.

“This is Y/N. She works with me and Uncle Rossi. She's going to take care of you for a while while me and Aunt Jessica and I visit your Grandpa. Come say hi.”

Creeping out of his room slowly, Jack came to stand just in front of his father's legs as Aaron put his hands on his shoulders, proudly showing off his mini doppelganger.

“Hi, I'm Jack.”

“Nice to meet you Jack, my name is Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it. You noticed how small his hands were, but how strong his grip was. He was confident, but he was still just a small kid, and you were even more motivated not to mess this up.

“What's in your bag?” He asked, flicking his eyes down to it every few seconds, as if he was itching to stick his nose right into it.

“Jack, manners, please.”

“It's okay, Hotch. I brought some toys. Your dad mentioned that Santa's gave you a Nintendo at Christmas, and I thought I'd show you a few of my favourite games.”

His face lit up as he quickly stepped closer to you, hands on the bag as he waited for you to offer it up, now openly ogling the bags contents, knowing it was for him.

“You didn't have to bring anything, Y/N.”

“I wanted to make a good first impression.”

After being dragged to the nearest sofa and sitting through a five minute walk through of all the house rules, urgency exits and remote locations, you were left alone with Jack Hotchner, remotes in hand ready to play Mario Kart.

“Okay, now all that's left to do is choose the course you want to race on. Which one do you want to play on?”

Jack had chosen to use Bowser as his character and chosen Toadette for you quite cutely, and you'd quickly finished cart selection, too.

“We should go through them in order, so we complete them all,” he said after a moment of deliberation.

You giggled at how seriously he was taking it. And then the first race in the Mushroom Cup started, and you were seriously impressed by how quickly he'd picked up this game. Either kids were just better at video games in general, or you had a prodigy on your hands.

His serious face was a carbon copy of Hotch when he was hunched over paperwork, and he gave you the same quietly disapproving frown every time your character momentarily overtook his. It was adorable seeing the two reflected in one another.

By the shell cup, you were nearly exhausted, despite having spent the entire time glued to the couch.

“What do you think about taking a snack break?” You asked, looking over Aaron Jack, who had turned himself upside down on the couch somewhere in the last three matches and was still beating you.

“Okay. I'll show you where Dad hides the good snacks,” he said, quickly rolling off the couch as if his bones were liquid.

You, on the other hand, cracked as you stood, the irony not lost on you as you hobbled your way to the kitchen.

Opening the cupboard under the sink, Jack routed around for a few seconds before returning with a small box of Reeses Pieces, which you gradually accepted alongside a glass of apple juice.

“You're a good kid, Jack,” you said, ruffling his hair as he playfully swatted your hand away.

“Yeah, that's what my dad always says.”

“Your dad is a very smart man.”

He nodded and then went back to quietly eating his candy, somewhat lost in thought.

You weren't sure if you were supposed to ask him what he was thinking about, or avoid the topic and dive straight back into video games, so you just ate your candy, too, standing together in the kitchen, Mario Kart music playing in the background.

“Do you like my dad?” He suddenly asked, swallowing down one more bite of apple juice. You'd forgotten that kids were the bluntness people on the planet, not yet having learned the necessity of delicately creeping closer to the actual topic of discussions like adults.

Jack had landed a sucker punch right to your guy, and you were suddenly choking on Reese's Pieces.

“Umm,” you said, catching your breath again and hoping your embarrassment wasn't plain as day on your face. “Yes, I respect your father a lot, Jack.”

“But do you like him?” He said again, eyes wide and expectant as he looked up at you.

“My dad can be a little scary sometimes. I heard some of my friends' moms saying so at Mitchell C's birthday party last week. They said he's scary, but he's so sad and lonely.”

Your heart sank in your chest as you watched Jack worry about his dad, worry if Aaron Hotchner was lonely or sad.

“Jack, your dad isn't lonely or sad. He has you, and Aunt Jessica, and-”

“And you, right? Because you like my dad?”

“R-Right. He has me, too.”

“Great. Let's keep playing. The Banana Cup is next.”

As suddenly as it had started, your serious talk with Jack was over and he bounced his way back to the sofa, clicking go on the next race, as you ran to quickly take your place again, too.

Five hours later, and you were being shaken softly awake, controller still in your hands as you blinked your eyes open. Somehow, it had gotten dark, and both you and Jack had simultaneously fallen asleep on the couch.

Now Hotch hovered over you, carrying the sleeping boy in his arms as he woke you up. He mouthed ‘coffee?’ and you nodded quickly, sitting up further and grabbing the nearest remote to turn off the Nintendo.

With Jack situated in bed quickly, you made your way to the kitchen. Aaron joined you after making sure Jack was still asleep, walking up behind you and wrapping two arms around your middle, leaning his head against your shoulder and exhaling. Despite the shiver down your spine, you leaned further into him, enjoying the feeling of him in your sleepy state.

“How was it?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You were almost sure that he was conducting this conversation from behind as a means of convincing himself not to read into your every movement and expression.

“It was great. He's a great kid, you know?”

“So I've been told.”

“He's worried about you, too. He said the moms at his school think you're scary and lonely. Which in suburban house mom translates to romantic hero, though I don't think he realizes that.”

You felt the grumble of a laugh behind you, the sound low and comforting as you let your eyes flutter closed again, content in his arms.

“Jack…misses his mom. Rebecca is great, but he likes talking to the moms at school. Maybe a little too much, I don't know.”

“You miss her, too.” It was a statement, not a fact.

“I do,” he said sadly, holding you tighter. “Is that a problem?”

“No. No, god no. Aaron, I-” your voice broke, and you hesitated slightly, clearing your voice. You squirmed in his grip until he released you enough to face him.

Doing so may have been a mistake, though, as you locked eyes with him and so desperately wanted to kiss him, to claim his mouth with yours, and let him lift you onto his kitchen counters.

You squeezed your nails into the palm of your hands to ground yourself and took a steadying breath.

Which was when Jack decided to make a reappearance.

“Dad?” He said groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you had only moments earlier.

You quickly broke apart as Aaron smiled disappointedly, almost as if he were expecting the interruption.

“Hey, bud. Did you sleep well?”

Jack nodded, tilting his head a little as though still disorientated.

“Did I fall asleep on the couch?”

“Sure did. Both of you, actually.”

Jack looked at you then and smiled sweetly up at his dad.

“So Miss Y/N is staying tonight?” He asked, suddenly a little excited and expectant.

“Well, Miss Y/N has her own house, so we can't just expect her to-”

“Yeah, I'm staying,” you blurted out, cutting off Hotch mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow at you, but you ignored him and smiled down at Jack.

“And if you head back to bed now, I'll make some pancakes for you in the morning,” you whispered conspiratorially with the boy, who raced back to his room.

Before shutting the door fully, he stopped by his dad and tugged him down to whisper level, saying something before yelling goodnight and taking himself back off to his room.

“What? What was that?” You pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Aaron.

“You first,” he laughed back, leaning on the nearby counter.

“I promised him pancakes in the morning. What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, pulling you closer to him again. “He just said you had an interesting conversation earlier.”

“Was it the one where he asked me if Mario speaks English, Italian or Japanese, because I couldn't answer that question for sure.”

“He said,” he leaned down to your ear to whisper the next words. “That you told him you like me. And he thinks you meant like-like.”

You flushed hot and avoided eye contact. A childish part of you wanted to deny it, to scoff and run away, like you were on the playground and not in a dimly lit kitchen at midnight. But you couldn't.

“I do. But I'd probably say love and not like-like, seeing as though I'm not nine.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, noses touching as he descended to capture your lips once more.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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verycoolusername1 · 3 days ago

Text

Maybe It Was Fate

Summary: During the 'hughesbowl' as fans may call it, you are caught in a trance that is Quinn Hughes... unaware that he is your coworkers' oldest brother.

Quinn Hughes x photographer!reader

A/N: I was debating whether to make this nico or quinn as the love interest and Quinn won in the end(nico does have a cameo however)- This was also supposed to be posted the day of the hughesbowl, but stuff came up so here it is now!!

AND I'M CHANGING THE SCORE IN THIS BECAUSE WHATEVER HAPPENED ON OCTOBER 30TH, 2024 DID NOT HAPPEN WHATSOEVER

It's a shock to you that you work with professional athletes, considering you hated sports as a kid. Even now, you still don't know what's going on in hockey. With the players too fast around you, it's hard to keep your eye on one player.

It was the 3rd period, the score being 5-3, the Canucks slowly but surely catching up.

You held your camera in hand, watching the big screen to keep focus... that was until someone catched your eye. You couldn't see his last name, only his face and man was he pretty.

He had green eyes flickered like sunlight within the leaves as he looked up. You could run your hand through his brown locks for days if given the chance.

You shook your head, he was most likely a player on and off the ice. You knew that without a doubt, knowing all about Jack's relationship with women(due to being best friends) but you couldn't help but wonder, would it be different with him?

The fans becoming louder as the game came to a close, the devils capturing the win. You snapped your camera a couple of times towards the devils and secretly took more of the mystery man.

You turned your camera off and it held loosely around your neck as you waited outside the locker room, waiting for Jack to take you home.

You had your back towards the door as you flickered through the photos that you took, your cheeks heating up when you saw the man again. He has a 43 just like Luke but you didn't think anything of it, players share the same numbers all the time. It was just a mere coincidence, right?

"You got all my good sides right?" Jack asked, you quickly turned the camera off.

"Jesus Jack, warn me next time gosh." You hit him on the shoulder.

He only shrugged in response. "Can't really text in the locker room."

You rolled your eyes. "You're actually an idiot."

"Only act like it to make you look smart." He muttered under his breath.

"And what are you two arguing about now?" Luke approached the two of you.

"They called me an idiot!" Jack exclaimed.

"They must have been reasonable to do so." Nico chuckled as he walked past you three. "Don't kill eachother please!"

"Make no promises cap!" You snapped a photo as he looked back at you with a smile.

"Oh Y/N! We want you to meet someone." Luke began to drag your arm in the other direction.

"And before you groan out a half assed reply, I think you'll really like him." Jack added.

You were now beginning to regret telling Jack that you wished you could put yourself out there again considering you haven't been on a date in two months due to your conflicting schedule.

"Do you two know him or-" You looked between the two of them.

"Oh yeah we do." Jack answered. "Very well."

"What does that even mean?" You narrowed your eyes at him, Jack chuckles in reply.

"Trust me, you'll like him." Luke eased your worries.

You finally stopped and Luke dropped your hand as you realized.

"He plays for the canucks? They just lost tonight. I'm sure the last thing he would want to do is go on a date with someone that works for the devils." You explained.

"Well he likes us and we play for the devils sooooooooo you'll brighten up his mood. Ha get it cause you're a photographer and the camera flashes." Jack stopped explaining the joke when he was met with your stern face.

Luke cleared his throat. "There he is now."

You snapped your eyes to the door and realized that was the man that took your breath away moments before just as he is doing now.

"Y/N this is Quinn, our brother. Quinn this is Y/N, the person we've been telling you about." Jack introduced the two of you.

"Brother? He's your brother?!? You guys never told me you had a brother!" You made a mental note to swear at Jack later, with no audience.

"Oops?" Luke giggled. "See Quinn, look they're a photographer. Show them some photos you took tonight." He encouraged.

You quickly shook your head. "No I couldn't possibly do that, I-I mean I still have to edit them and wait..." You looked down to your neck strap and saw that your camera was gone and in Jack's hands.

All three hughes brothers looking at the photos.

"Wait no!" You exclaimed but it was already too late you assumed, Jack was looking at you with a knowing look while Luke and Quinn were shocked.

"How come he gets all his good angles and I don't even one photo?" Luke asked you, in a mocking tone.

"I was distracted," You looked away, embarrassed.

"Yeah because you were too busy looking at our brother." Jack remarked, jokingly.

You rolled your eyes. "I didn't know he was your guys brother."

"I think these look nice, thank you." Quinn finally spoke, looking you in the eyes.

"Oh um you welcome. It's nothing really, it's just kind of my job." You shrugged.

"Then you most definitely picked the right career choice." He smiled softly at you.

Jack and Luke were nowhere to be seen, seemly left the two of you alone for a while.

Your face flushed at his words, he held the camera in his hands handing it out for you.

"You're gonna need this to edit all those photos of me." He joked.

"And I'm gonna need your number to send you all those photos." You held the camera and its neck strap, putting it in your bag.

"Well that was bold, Y/N." He chuckled not nonetheless gave you his phone so you can type out your number, he sent you a quick text.

"It was nice meeting you Quinn, it's getting late. I would head home but Jack seemed to have disappeared." You looked around.

"I can take you home." He offered. "He obviously went to the bar with the team."

You looked up at him and smiled. "I would like that."

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kaivenom · 7 months ago

Note

May I request something heart break high related please?

Pool Pals

Summary: a normal afternoon with Ant ended up with you two breaking into the Hartley pool

Pairing: Anthony Vaughn x reader

Warnings: breaking into places, usual parties and alcohol, they are canonicaly 18th so it's not underage drinking.

A/N: Answering this person (the first request on this blog) i am really happy to do this and contribute to increase the little amount of fanfics that this fandom has. Of course i will write about them and i will write more from now on.

Masterlist

At first, you two were hanging out on his garage, doing dumb stuff and not caring, then he said "let's break into the school's pool" and you said yes. It was exciting, just the two of you breaking the chains of your high school and like that, you were right in front of the pool. Everything would be dark if it wasn't because of the lights that came from the low of the pool.

"Oh my, we forgot swimsuits," you said slapping your forehead.

"Why we need them?" he looked at you with a smile and stripped himself into his underwear.

He threw himself onto the pool and gave you a gently hand to get into the water, with that adorable smile. You were a little self concious about entering with your underwear but at the end you did, and took his hand into the cold water.

"Are you shivering?" he asked you laughing.

"No, of course not, idiot."

You splashed him jokingly and suddently you started a water war. It was very funny, like time wasn't passing at all, each moment your bodies getting closer with the excuse of making the other one wetter.

At some point he wrapped you around his arms trying to made you stop, but neither of you could stop laughing, but his face was closer every second he twisted you with his arms. That little fight made the noise outside go unnoticed.

"What we have here?" suddently the door slammed open and an incredible amount of people entered the pool room, that voice was from Spider, "Man, you weren't answering my calls, i though you were dead, but when i tracked your phone and saw where you were i couldn't resist."

Now your relaxed oasis was full of people, drinking, partying and making noise. You didn't have the courage to get outside of the water and Ant was dragged with Spider. Now you are alone.

You spotted Amerie, Darren and the rest of your group and tried to get their attention. Once they saw you, help was provided and you finally had a towel to cover you up and went outside the pool. The next couple of hours you were with them, trying to ignore the fact that Spider ruined a beautiful moment. You couldn't talk anymore to Ant but you noticed his gaze on you.

"The police is here!!!!!" that was the sound of chaos, everyone started running and screaming.

Many people ended up on the pool trying to escape and you almost did that if it weren't for Ant's hand catching you. You two started to run and the towel fell off, you couldn't care less at that moment. The escape went for a couple of miles, until you didn't hear the sirens of the police anymore and you were sure you were alone.

That's when you realized the absence of the towel and tried to cover your body. Ant was fast thinking for once and got out his shirt to put it directly on you.

"Thanks," you said nervously.

"Nah, don't worry, it looks better on you." both of you smiled.

His hand went to you face and carresed slowly your cheek, his lips met yours in a sweet kiss.

"I've been wanting to do this all afternoon."

"Yeah, me too, but Spider..."

"Don't talk about him right now, you want to take a walk and find a nice place to seat and finish our hang out finally?"

"I would like it very much, but maybe i should go by my house before because i don't have pants right now."

"Nah, you look very good like that, but i can give you mine if you want."

His hand interlaced with yours as you two started walking down the street and laugh at Ant's jokes.

#hearbreak high #heartbreak high imagine #heartbreak high 2022 #heartbreak high 2024 #heartbreak high x you #hearbreak high x reader #heartbreak high s2 #hbh2 #anthony vaughn #anthony vaughn imagine #anthony vaughn x reader #anthony vaughn x you #heartbreak high ant #ant vaughn imagine #ant vaughn x reader #ant vaughn x you #ant vaughn

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chronicbeans · 10 months ago

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Yandere Platonic Alastor x Victim Reader

You got killed by him when you both were alive, because you accidentally ended up witnessing him burying a body. Unknowingly, because neither of you recognized each other in Hell, you both became friends... Now the memories are returning.

TW: Death, Murder, Cannibalism (again, this is Alastor), Fear and Anxiety, Invasion of Privacy/Personal Space, Stalking, Manipulation, Yandere Behavior (Upped to more than usual, for Alastor)

• You remember how you died relatively well. Back in the 1920s, you decided to go on a nighttime walk in the woods... well, more like heavily wooded swamps of New Orleans, only to stumble across a man burying a body in the ground. You panicked, which alerted him, and you got shot. That's the gist of it. You don't know who did it, you don't know why he killed that person he was burying, but you have always vowed revenge on the person who did it.

• However, you decided to try to redeem yourself, still. You entered the Hazbin Hotel, being led in by an excited Charlie, only to then be met with Alastor. You recognized his voice as one you heard on a radio show, when you were alive... and when you asked, he confirmed your suspicions that it was him who was the host! You were surprised, and although you never met him in life, you were comforted by at least having someone from your time period here.

• And as such, you mostly stuck by him. Although you wouldn't call him a friend. It was more like he was a familiar presence for you. Sure, he was the Radio Demon, but he hadn't shown any hostility towards you. So, in your opinion, there was no need for concern or fear. He never seems to mind, either. The most he does is stare at you or ask why you spend so much time with him, and you always be truthful.

• In truth, although he doesn't want to admit it, he enjoys your company. Alastor views you as a sort of lost soul who needs guidance... and by that, it means he wants to take your soul. You seem a bit naive to his true nature, so you'd be relatively easy to trick, yeah? You may not be strong or a good tool to use, but keeping you on a leash would be nice, in his opinion. It's not everyday he finds someone from not only his time period, but his area! You're like a little rare gem, who brings him nostalgia.

• He's proven wrong, however, as you deny his offer for a deal. So, he was proven wrong. You're smart enough to deny his offer for a deal... Which, although he is irritated, he has to applaud you for. You're smart, and he loves smart people! It beats the idiotic brawn he often interprets many of the inhabitants of Hell to be run by, which he despises. So, although he never gets to own your lovely soul, he earns more respect for you as a person rather than just a nostalgic memory from the past. Seeing people less as people, such as viewing them as tools or objects for his own enjoyment, is a problem he has... One that you've gotten past due to being a bit more intelligent than some of the other sinners, and gained his respect as a person.

• The more time you spend together, the more you two become friends... Sure, it takes a long time, but it eventually happens. You find him to have his own sort of charm underneath the eerie exterior, and he sees you as someone at the hotel who really understands him and where he comes from. Sure, Mimzy is also someone who he sees similarly since they were friends in life, but she is rarely at the Hazbin Hotel, if ever. You're a guest of the establishment, though, so he can hang around with you more often.

• Though... you are beginning to have... memories coming back. Alastor sounds a bit like the man who killed you, so you have been thinking about your killer. It's been becoming distressing, because you are worried about meeting him in Hell. Sure, you want revenge, but you are not a very strong demon. There's about a 50/50 chance he might be stronger than you. It's gotten to the point where you decide to confide in Charlie about it. She decides that, the next day, she'd have everyone do art therapy with the task of drawing their greatest stressor. Of course, with your permission, of course...

• So, you alongside the other residents start the next day making art while eating breakfast. You all are not exactly sure who is going to be participating in the sharing process Charlie wants to try out, but you know you sure as Hell won't. You only plan to share it with Charlie... and maybe Alastor. You're not sure, yet.

• You doodle what you remember your killer looking like, the body he was burying, alongside the area you died in. Then, once you're done, you bring it over to Charlie. She seems a little disheartened, as if upset that the situation still impacts you to this day, but supportive. Then, she suggests that you could show it to Alastor. Maybe he will recognize him? And, if anybody could protect you if you do meet your killer in Hell, it'd be him. To be honest, you didn't even think of the fact that Alastor might recognize him!

• Now excitedly, you go to find Alastor. You notice that he also seems to be participating in the workshop. It is probably the first time you've seen him participate in one, but you always suspected he'd join in on one that involves drawing, since he had mentioned enjoying doodling things from time to time. You don't peek at it, considering the challenge is to draw what stresses you, but from the brief glimpse you get you see a bunch of chains.

• "Alastor! Hi! Charlie recommended I show you my drawing, in case you can help me... would you be willing to take a look?" He looks over to you, grinning widely. His first few thoughts are about how he can use whatever problem you have to try, once again, to sucker a deal from you. So, he nods his head rather quickly. "Of course, dear! Anything for a friend."

• You show him your picture, explaining that it's the man who killed you... only for his face to suddenly go pale. He's grinning, like always, but you can tell something is wrong. "Alastor? You okay?" For a few moments, he's quiet, before he snaps out of it. "Ah, yes, dear! I'm fine! The man is um... familiar to me. I just need to try to remember who he is... I'll let you know if I remember."

• He may sound calm, but inside, he's panicking. It's him. It's him. He killed you. He remembers who you were, too, considering the scenery. That, and you decided to keep your name. You were the one victim he didn't plan to kill. The only one that he felt a little remorse for, since you didn't fit the criteria of his usual victims. He killed based off of his weird morals, so killing someone who he usually wouldn't have hit him a bit. So much so, even in Hell, his mind wandered to you from time to time... Now, you're here, and you don't recognize him.

• By a little remorse, he means much more than he'd like to admit. He may be the cruel, sadistic Radio Demon, but back when he was human he still had a bit more care for others. That, and in Hell, it's a lot easier to find people who fit his murderous criteria he had when he was alive. So, although he doesn't go by that code as much in Hell, he still believes you didn't deserve it. You just were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he couldn't let a witness live.

• Meanwhile, you're completely oblivious to his internal panic. All you're noticing is that, as the days go by, he's keeping a closer and closer eye on you. While you would usually go and seek him out, now, you don't need to! It's his turn to do the seeking! Though, it is odd how he seems to know where you are all the time... That, and he's been knocking on your door the second after you wake up, almost like he's some sort of psychic, or something!

• Now, while Alastor is usually more obsessive and possessive when it comes to relationships, to the point where one may say he's a yandere by default... When Alastor actually is a yandere? You're screwed. Those behaviors are upped to the max. There's no escaping him.

• He's spying on you, yes. He normally would. Now, though, it's almost constantly. From your room, to the store, to the park, to anywhere else you go. He's a lot more obvious about it, too. He'd normally let you have other friends, but in this case, you're not allowed. Well, you are, but he will actively try to get you to not trust them. What if they're your killer? The only exception would be the others at the Hazbin Hotel, since he wants you to stay there. If you're too scared, you might leave, and it'd make it harder to find you to stalk you.

• He's also going to try to make deals with you much more often, now. Little ones at first, though, that don't involve your soul. If he gets you this, you have to get him that. If he does this, you need to do that. Small things, to slowly build you up to the big deal he plans to have you agree to. Like a frog in boiling water. You throw it into hot water it'll jump out, but if you slowly turn up the heat, it'll stay put until the end. You probably don't even notice the deals increasing in intensity.

• And so, when he approaches you with a deal one day, you aren't surprised. However, he knows this one is too good to pass up! Or, at least, it sounds too good until you agree. "Dear, I've figured out who your killer is! Though, I want to make a deal. I'll tell you who it is and make sure you're safe, and in return, you give me your soul. Now, before you disagree, think about it. If I have your soul, I can protect you much easier, as I'll be more connected to you. That, and they can't steal it from you and hurt you more than if they did have it. So, is it a deal?" He's made his points... and you're now so used to intense deals, that you agree to it, despite your unease. Giving up your soul is a big thing, but he's your friend, hasn't hurt you, and from what it sounds like... he wouldn't hurt you once he has your soul. It's to protect you, yeah?

• Once you do, shaking his hand to seal the deal, he immediately lets you in on his secret. His grip moves from your hand to your wrist, his grin wide as he speaks calmly. "Do not panic, dear. I did it. I killed you, because you saw something you shouldn't have." And with that, all his true colors are revealed. He admits to everything, from the stalking, to the obsessions, and to his true reason for wanting your soul: to keep you close.

• You, for one, are terrified. Your worst fear is realized. Your killer is stronger than you - a literal overlord- and now owns your soul. Your leash is much tighter and shorter than Husk's, too. You're constantly being dragged around by him. He shows you off, as if you are some sort of trophy. He probably brings you everywhere he goes, even to Cannibal Town and meetings, so you aren't out of his sight.

• If you try to get away from him, he will literally drag you back. Then, he's going to be holding onto your shoulder tightly for the next few hours. It's his passive aggressive way of saying "I'm not afraid to hurt you", without actually saying anything... As if you getting dragged by a chain wrapped around your throat wasn't enough to prove it.

• You are, in your own way, treated a bit better than Husk. That is, as long as you actually go along with his insanity. If you act good, he'll treat you to food- no, not the raw meat and demon flesh he eats. Foods that you actually like. He'll make sure you have the best room in the hotel. He'll even, begrudgingly, let you have a television. If you aren't so nice, though, he'll basically take away everything. The food you eat will be what he eats, you're probably going to be in his room so he can keep an eye on you, and there will be no technology allowed other than radio and things that came before it. The most you'll get is to be allowed to sleep in his bed, while he sleeps on one of the chairs in his room (that is, if he doesn't stay up all night to watch you).

• Charlie probably isn't aware of any of this. The most she might notice is that you two are hanging out more often, and that Alastor was your killer. However, she truly believes he can be redeemed, especially since your murder wasn't something he wanted. So, she won't question it, and believes a lot of the things Alastor says to explain your odd behavior. "They're a bit nervous, still, but we're working it all out." "They've been staying in my room because the prefer it there." "They got rid of their phone because they realized they were getting a bit addicted to social media." Whenever you try to say anything, though, you feel a slight tug on your chain, which keeps you quiet about it. Stupid deal...

• You aren't going anywhere. He's doing all of this with the goal of making it all up for you, in his own twisted way. Especially since he's now learned that you are the exact opposite of the type of person he would kill. If you act good, you'll see! He'll give you mostly everything you want. He'll shower you in apologies for your death, give you gifts, and maybe let you have some alone time... He just gets a little more than frustrated when you try to leave... Please, he's been waiting for this opportunity for years, so just let him apologize for killing you... Even if his apology lasts for all of eternity.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #platonic yandere #platonic headcanons #platonic

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starry-bi-sky · 10 months ago

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the idea of the whole school of Casper high judging wes´s flirting skills and then being horrified that they still somehow kinda work is gold!!

also i feel like somewhere in the future someone in the batfam will ask baby dami how he got the "demon" name since hes a clone and hes just going to look the person in the eye and say "my brothers pet stalker gave it to me"

"MY BROTHER'S PET STALKER GAVE IT TO ME" that's now the only way Damian refers to Wes - that and 'Weston'. And just imagine Danny walking into that room in that moment as he says it, and then perking up and going "Oh are we talking about Wes?" and he walks over to ruffle Damian's hair and affectionately goes, "and he's not my pet, Dames." But he doesn't deny the stalker bit.

(And you know if Wes was there he'd be denying it up and down that he's a stalker - he's an investigator. A detective! Quit calling him that!) And the batfam present all exchange slightly concerned looks with one another and someone -- lets go Dick or Tim or Bruce, goes "Stalker?"

Danny just waves it off with a huff and goes "it's not that serious, don't worry i've got it handled" before changing the subject to something else. Or talking a little bit more about wes without bringing up that he thinks he's a vigilante (which he is).

and also yesss imagine the first time dany goes to bother wes during the middle of lunch and danny says something mildly tame compared to what he normlly does because wes is with a bunch of friends -- maybe he decides to do the "hey Weston, I heard you spreading rumors about me being Phantom?" thing, and he's wearing this bewildered smile

all of Wes' friends are giving Wes this LOOK like 'way to go genius, you got his attention, now what?' and instead of Wes stammering or backtracking, instead he doubles down on it. All of his friends are looking at him like Velvet from Trolls 3 when Veneer revealed that they were phonies. Just utter betrayal.

just. just this face. the entire table is making that face at Wes as he (to them) fumbles the bag so badly that he may as well have tossed it into a gutter. They all watch as Fenton is weirded out by Wes, and the two of them have this back-and-forth with Fenton poking holes at Wes about him being Phantom and Wes just keeps saying he is Phantom, and he should stop denying it.

When Fenton finally leaves, Wes' best friend turns and thwacks him hard in the shoulder and hisses at him what the hell did he just do? He didn't just miss the basket, he missed the entire damn court entirely! he threw the ball into the stands!

And Wes hisses back at him that he has no idea what he's talking about. Wes' friend calls him an idiot. A big dumb idiot. And then Fenton goes and bothers him in the hallway a few days later. And everyone else?? Flabbergasted.

And then it keeps. happening. Fenton keeps?? approaching Wes? And he sometimes he seems vaguely delighted by their conversations, like Wes is saying some of the funniest things in the world? -- and okay, maybe it is funny that he keeps getting accused of being a vigilante, its funny in a weird way. And Wes looks completely annoyed by his existence -- and you know what somehow this tracks because Fenton was dating Valerie for a time and she was completely annoyed by him when they first met. Maybe Fenton has a type???

Either way, nobody knows how to wrap their head around how Wes's cringefail "flirting" techniques are working. By all means, Fenton should be hating this guy because he keeps accusing him of being his parents' worst enemy (self-proclaimed by the Fenton parents), but instead he just appears bewildered but mildly entertained by Wes' antics.

#dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc #clone^2 #danny fenton is not the ghost king #sO ngl i had this finished and written like. the day it got sent in i just didn't post it because i had nothing to say in the tAGS #and i have my best thoughts in the tags /j

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sordidmusings · 1 month ago

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Tender Love and Care - Massage 2/3 (Buggy x Reader)

Art by Capitanpoops!

A/N: May this be yet another testament to my addiction to both the clown and pining 🙏🏻 It's definitely time for the titular massage, don't you think? Buggy could really use it. Also a perfect way to be helpful and feel him up at the same time fdsfkdjflks Don't worry - he's looking at it as an excuse to be felt up so it's a perfect match. Theres a bit of a headcanon about the effects of extended use of his fruit in this one.

If you catch the meme reference hidden in this installment I love you lol

Word count: ~6.6k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns), suggestive themes but nothing nsfw, humor, weapons grade pining, idiots in love, a little more of Buggy being a prickly bitch, also more of him being touch-starved and desperate for affection, this time the reader has some time in a fantasy world too, you maybe probably also give him a slap on the ass (he deserved it)

<-Prev Next(coming up!)->

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

On the other side of the door, you frowned and hesitated. His voice sounded tired and grumpy. Had you taken too long and robbed him of time he’d rather be sleeping? Had he actually been upset that you had ordered him to bathe instead of asking? Had something come up in the time you’d been gone? Only one way to find out.

You had to stop and stare at Buggy once you were in the room. He looked gorgeous. You already knew he was hot but this was a different type of attractive. Even though the loose clothing you’d stolen for him (sorry Zoro) was casual sleepwear, the way it draped brought out the places where he was bulked up. Each lax section of soft cloth juxtaposed beautifully with the spots where muscle pushed against fabric. Shoulders, chest, and thighs stood out to you most, calling to you with the request to treat them as overstuffed pillows pressing at their cases. You admired him as your eyes made their way back up to his face. His hair was pulled back in a large messy bun that looked so, so soft and left his face completely unobscured. The refresh on makeup was skillfully executed and brought out all his features in a way that had your mouth run dry. The tempting lines of his lips stood out behind vibrant red. His brow and cheekbones were highlighted by slashes of blue. His sea-glass eyes looked all the brighter set against a rim of dark lashes and smudges. You were probably staring too long, but it was too difficult to look away.

Buggy didn’t mind. He can’t remember someone looking at him with awe this way before. It was the best balm he could've asked for to cover his freshly agitated self-loathing. He almost couldn’t believe that his efforts on his appearance had worked out so well. Feeling high off of his success, he couldn’t resist taking some time to gloat.

“Need help picking your jaw off the floor, sweetcheeks?” he teased. His teeth bared in a wide smile, splitting his face and narrowing his eyes. His canines shined white against the dark of his lips.

One hand flew over to you and held your chin. Buggy placed the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip, before rubbing the whole length of it down. Enraptured by the sight of your lip being pulled, Buggy stared and swallowed hard. His breath shook lightly, just like the breath he felt puff out against his hand. He let your lip flick back up before pressing his hand up to guide your gently parted mouth closed.

Feeling unsure of where things would go next, you cleared your throat and turned away. Maybe something routine would settle your nerves. Lotion. Yeah, that would work. The movements would be calming and it would let you stay in your own physical space until you were less flustered. Maybe it would even give you some time to cook up some vengeance and get the upper hand on the clown again.

Buggy was still taking up the chair at the desk, and you weren’t ready to breach the border of the bed yet. Luckily, there was a large pouf you could sit on and continue avoiding things. You tried not to let Buggy’s gleeful giggling at your expense goad you into saying something stupid to shut him up. Instead, you focused your attention on the calming smell of your lotion as you opened the tub. Delicate scents of amber, wood, and lavender greeted you and the pavlovian training from a long history of hard days smoothed out to this smell made you instantly loosen and breathe deeper.

“Were you a perfumier pre-pirate or something?” Buggy asked. He had made himself sound condescending, but you caught the interest in the way he looked over at you.

You had noticed before how very unsubtly he had taken to your care products anyway. You had caught him sniffing at his own hair more than once since you’d washed it. If there was an occasion with an excuse for him to be close, his face tended to gravitate around your shoulders and head and you could’ve sworn he’d deepen his breath. It skirted the perfect line between sweet and pathetic for you to let it continue. Some part of you wondered if you would find it creepy from someone else, but a much larger part of you didn’t care.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, circus boy,” you scoffed. Having made quick work of your feet, you were now on to massaging the creamy lotion into the meat of your calf.

“That’s not one of the things you’re allowed to call me,” he said, lip curling. “Closest you can get is ‘ringmaster’.” He paused then added as an afterthought, “You could always just keep it to ‘master’ too.”

“You wish,” you laughed out. You had switched to your other calf, the one closer to Buggy, and bent your leg towards yourself this time, tired of bending forward. Buggy’s rebuttal died on his lips as he watched your movements, especially the way it made your sleep shorts ride up. He didn’t know if he wanted to know how your hands felt, digging long stripes across skin and muscle, or how it felt to replace your hands with his, molding and admiring your body. His indecision only grew as you moved up to your thigh.

Noticing the long silence, you looked up at Buggy to see what had him distracted. His gaze was glued to your hands. To make sure that he was watching and not staring into the abyss, you leisurely slid your hands all the way back down to your ankle. His eyes intently followed the whole process. Definitely watching. Huh.

Going to the other thigh, you tried to decide how to react to that. Sure, he’s been flirty and so have you, but he’s also missed too many offers for closeness for you to think there was more to it. He’d shy from your hands more often than he would seek them and he tended to make himself scarce soon after your personal spaces mingled. That’s one of the things that tipped you off that he liked your shampoo and not you; it was the only time he would truly linger. You had decided that he yearned for touch but not your touch.

The thought had little pangs going through you, causing you to slow and slump. You looked back up at him and saw the longing in his eyes before he covered it up by screwing up his face and sticking his tongue out at you. What a fucking child. He’s perfect.

So, you treated that longing as what you thought it was: pure touch-starvation. You’ve been there and knew that pain. Honestly, you fell into it pretty quickly. Recently that was exacerbated by leaving Luffy’s crew, who would keep you sated on that front. Well… mostly Luffy, but Usopp was a hugger and Sanji would never be upset with contact. Nami would sometimes tolerate it, giving you the energy of a standoffish cat beginning to accept your presence. The most you broke out of Zoro were playful shoulder bumps and other such affectionate roughness. Reminiscing aside, you didn’t want Buggy to ache like that.

Gesturing towards Buggy with the lotion, you asked, “I’m guessing you didn’t use any yet?”

“Why would I? I don’t need it,” he responded, furrowing his brows.

“Well you won’t die without it I’ll give you that,” you started, “but it makes your skin soft and smells good.” You were surprised to see him take a moment to think over your offer so quickly. His eyes lingered on your legs again, and you worked to tamp down the hopes for affection it brought up in you.

“Looks like too much work,” Buggy dismissed, getting up and making for the bed.

“I’ll do it for you,” you pressed, falling victim to your own yearning for contact.

Buggy froze completely, even halting his breath, repeating the sounds of your voice in his mind to make sure they actually made those words. No way. Yeah, you did that lovely hair wash and seemed soft on him, but he figured that was mostly from pity for how helpless and bedraggled he was as a head. There’s no way you’re here just handing out a massage. “Care to repeat that, dollface?”

“I’ll do the lotioning for you, like, give you a massage,” you explained. The fact that he still hasn’t moved was making you nervous. It was a good thing you couldn’t see the wide-eyed look of startled prey frozen on his face. “If you don’t want me to that’s fi-”

“No!” Buggy yelped. Head and torso spun around, lifting off his lower body in his haste to face you. His lower body caught up and he popped back down onto his waist, causing his clothes to flutter. “I mean, uhhh-” he cleared his throat “I don’t mind. It’ll be a nice service for your Captain.” By the end of that, he at least started to sound smug and teasing again. There was no saving it, but you were gracious enough to let the fumbles pass this time. It helped that his eagerness was flattering.

“Sure thing, Cap,” you said, messing up the title to keep at least a small level of disrespect to rub at him. He was too fun to bait.

“It’s Captain. Captain Buggy, actually,” he told you. He backed up and sat on the edge of the bed to watch your approach. “It’s easy - Cap-tain Bu-ggy.”

You huffed good-naturedly at him talking to you like you were a child, split syllables and all. Might as well continue toying with him.

“Cap-” you kneeled down between his legs “-tain” you had a hand at each of his ankles “Boo-” his left pant leg was pushed above his knee “-gie!” and the right one follows.

“You are such a brat,” he chastised, trying to sound stern and pissed off, but he was too distracted by the way the mischievous glint in your eye had his heart pounding. He had no clue what you were planning, but he was sure he would hate and love it. “Say it right.”

“Or what?” you snorted dismissively, rolling your eyes and trailing light fingertips down his shins. Unfortunately, that was a step too far; something in him felt you saw him as a foolish boy in that moment, making him lash out.

Your cheer fell the moment his hand fisted the front of your shirt. His grip tugged you in and his face got as close as possible without breaching to touch you. For a fraction of a second, it didn’t matter how pretty those eyes were; all you could see of them was anger.

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you mumbled quickly. For a tense few breaths, his wild eyes peeled yours apart. You let him, wanting to show compliance and that you had nothing to hide. You got to watch first-hand how the fight left him in his relaxing brow, drooping shoulders, and slipping grip. Those fiery eyes lost their burn and his look closed off into something you couldn’t understand.

“Whatever. Just don’t do it again,” he grumbled. Sometime when the two of you had more practice opening to each other, you needed to ask him precisely what ‘it’ was. For now, you would file this away to await that day.

“I won’t,” you promised, truly meaning it. It wasn’t due to the threat but because you hated when he was upset. You started to get in your own head; somehow it seemed each time you moved to get close to him that you would upset him. The night that you two shared a hammock had ended up lovely, but you couldn’t help but worry that you were crossing boundaries he had tried to express to you through these turns of temper.

Buggy noticed how your hands at the lotion had become limp and hesitant. You didn’t want to touch him. But you offered! You can’t take it away from him now; he needs it. Hot shame broke across his skin at the realization that he had lashed out at you and made you nervous to touch him. You should never be scared of him and he resolved to stop giving you reason to be. You should look at him and see a reliable Captain, a brave protector. A lifelong lover. The ache was back and more pungent than ever.

You were still stalling, tracing nonsense into the lotion and shifting on your knees, when the hand that had been loosely holding your shirt instead smoothed it out and Buggy’s other hand grabbed your own and placed it against his calf. The hand at your chest rubbed soothing swipes back and forth beneath your collarbone, easing the creases he’d made out of the fabric of your top. You began to mimic this motion on the side of Buggy’s leg. Before you started to commit to your task, you looked up to meet Buggy’s eyes. He wouldn’t say the words, but his eyes were glassy and pleading for forgiveness. While words were nice, you could feel how genuine the apology was through his caring and nervous touch, and for now that was enough for you.

A tentative smile eased onto your lips and Buggy felt some of the pressure in his throat and chest loosen its grip. Your other hand joined the first in kneading his muscles and his lungs were freed enough to stretch full again.

He watched you intently while you set about lotioning his legs. The task helped you ease back up and you quickly took to enjoying it; touching Buggy always had your heart fluttering. You felt like you were edging on something unknown and unexplored and exciting. You had gained quite the affection for this temperamental and wounded man. You wanted desperately to be the one to soothe and comfort him and make it so more of that goofy and loving side of him could flourish. The goofiness has come out quite easily but he holds his love very close to his chest. You imagine that is the place that has been the most damaged with how he guards it. His pride also seems to be held quite close for fear of injury.

Buggy hummed out relief as you pressed more firmly into his calf. It gave you more confidence in your touch to know that you were making him feel good. Working thumbs down next to his shin, you marveled at the fact that even the soft hairs there were blue. You found it fitting that so much blue was wrapped into his looks: blue like the sea that promised the freedom that he endlessly chased, blue like the sky that has been his roof since boyhood, blue like the melancholy that steeped into his being. Red fit him too - his nose, his lips, his passion, his rage - but the blue seemed to run deeper.

Tending to the second leg, you broke yourself from your reverie to check in on Buggy. He was looking down at you, but you could tell from the glaze in his eyes that he wasn’t actually seeing you. Wherever he was in his head, you hoped that it was kind.

You’d happily take advantage of his zoning out to stare at that pretty face for a while. The makeup highlighting his features looked extra meticulous, not a single wobble in the diamonds over his eyes. The color he put on tonight was richer by his lips and eyes than you’d ever seen it. Dark smudges fit him so nicely; they made his eyes more entrancing and the sea-green of his irises stand out. You trailed your gaze down to admire the other feature he’d emphasized; his lips. The bright crimson of his painted smile bled into a hypnotizing deep carmine right where you would kiss. Your new favorite color was interrupted by a flash of pink - a nervous tongue flicking to wet his lips over makeup - and you looked up.

Buggy’s eyes have managed to darken even more with his blown pupils. There was a questioning furrow to his brow but no apprehension to match it. His posture seemed a lot more leisurely than the hard set of his shoulders you had seen after his outburst. It made you smile brightly up at him, pleased that you were making him feel better. His eyes shot away from you, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flush peeking out on his cheeks. You placed a hand on each of his knees, giving them a playful squeeze.

“Wearing anything under these?” you asked, tugging at the pant legs shoved up on his thighs. Buggy took a second to choke on his surprise. He recovered quickly.

“No, but don’t let that stop you,” he teased. Ah, there’s that cheesy wink, tongue click and all. What a man. It was even better knowing that he’d shy away the moment your fingers touched his waistband. You eyed that waistband longingly for a moment before deciding to keep things away from your other massage talents.

“Captain!” you gasped in mock offense. “You’d offer such a thing to a pure maiden like me?”

“Pure maiden?” he laughed out, much too amused at the idea. “Oh, sure, the same pure maiden who offered a ‘tasting’ to that pretty boy chef?”

Despite laughing with him, you still gave his thigh a little smack for the jab.

“He was the one who responded to a compliment of his palette with ‘thank you, love, my tongue is well trained’!” you defended, making sure to put on a terrible impression when quoting Sanji. “What was I supposed to do? Not flirt back?”

“Do you always just flirt black?” Buggy’s eyes and tone turned more intense but not angry. You were happy to see that nothing harsh spilled into his expression with that focus.

“Only if I enjoy a person,” you responded evenly, a bit apprehensive of where he could be leading this. “I don’t play to anyone I don’t like.”

A pleased grin slowly split his face and you focused in on his shining teeth framed in blood red lips. His words came out light and airy in a way that made you suspect a trap beneath their veneer when he asked, “Then tell me, little tease, do you like me?”

Buggy’s sudden confidence quickly had yours faltering. It felt the same as when someone toys with you because they know something you don’t. He had to have something up his sleeve to set you up like that. Sure, he had a moment earlier when he noticed your gawking, but this can’t be the same Buggy that tripped on his own feet when you offered to learn burlesque for his show. You decided to play it safe.

“Of course. I chose you as my Captain, right?” Agree but deflect - perfect.

Buggy wanted to be frustrated at your answer. Actually, some piece of him was - he was sure you knew that’s not what he was getting at - but he was also happy. You did choose him. You chose to run away with him, a pirate you barely knew, not to mention that that short time was always spent with one of you as the other’s hostage. He’d question your judgment if it weren’t benefitting him so much. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted (‘yet’ he hoped), you liked him enough to completely change the trajectory of your life path to run parallel with his. That counted for something. A lot of something.

The affection that started to blend into Buggy’s eyes had your heart stuttering. You couldn’t look away even when he gently placed a hand atop your head then petted it slowly back and down so that he held the back of your head.

“Right,” he responded quietly. He gave two gentle scratches to the base of your skull before leaning away from you. The distance helped break you from the spell his gaze had you under. He huffed out a breath then asked, “So, what’s next?”

“I can do your back?” Yeah that should help; it would keep those pretty eyes from making you want to bare your soul. It seemed to be their mission tonight to do so by force or by favor and you were not ready for him to find the immense (and still somehow growing) affection for him there. You weren’t ready for the rejection you expected. You don’t think he would reject a more active night sharing a bed but you were certain he would reject the pursuit of love and that’s what would actually hurt. And besides, it would give him way too big of a head and the teasing would become unbearably annoying.

Oh, wow, when did he take his shirt off? Were you really zoned out thinking for more than a few seconds? And how come this man makes chest hair look so damn good? You wanted to feel that dark blue under your fingers and the pecs decorated with it as well. His shirt did him justice but he looks just as good, if not better, without it. Those pecs flexed a few times, letting you know he caught on to your staring again.

“You’re really distracted today,” Buggy said through a smile, looking all too wolfish for your liking at the moment.

“What can I say, I love blue and you’re just lucky to be covered in it.”

“Well I am a natural bluenette,” Buggy said with that stupid, wonderful, self-satisfied glint in his eye he got every time he tried out one of his tenuous puns.

“You are the worst,” you laughed. The corners of his cheeky smile pulled wider. “Here, let me set up for you.”

Buggy quirked a brow at you but said nothing as he watched you shuffle onto the bed. You grabbed the pillows from the head of the bed and laid them out in the middle. After making an upside down “T”, you took a moment to fluff them for maximum comfort. Luckily, the inn didn’t skimp out on pillow budget so you had a lot to work with. You finished by giving them an appeased nod then turned back to Buggy. With dramatic flair, you swept an arm through the air over your setup.

“Your throne awaits,” you said. You patted the top pillow, “Chest here-” and the middle of the bottom one “-and hips here. Keep your head above the top one with your forehead on your arms so you don’t have to crank your neck the whole time.”

Buggy began moving to the center of the bed with a sarcastic “Yes, your highness” and turned to lay on his stomach. You took the opportunity to admire your beloved blue on his chest and happy trail. You scooted to sit on your knees right next to his side. Looking down at his back, you took in the muscles he had built there too. They made enticing lines across the expanse of soft skin and you were ever more eager to be able to have your hands on him.

You leaned forward to begin a few awkward times before deciding you didn’t like the angle. It would be more comfortable with a straight shot, not to mention you’d be able to do a much better job for him. You wanted to impress him (hopefully enough to be able to do this again), so you pulled together the courage to throw a leg over him. You hovered for just a second, before lowering yourself to sit on his glutes. It ended up being a more cushioned seat than anticipated (good for him) so you felt comfortable relaxing more of your weight down on him. Buggy let out a nervous little giggle before he cleared his throat and shuffled beneath you.

“Is this okay?” you asked, frowning lightly.

“Yeah, fine,” Buggy responded, too quick and too high. You rolled your eyes at his convincing response and began to lift your weight back off of him. He threw his left hand back to sink his grip into your thigh and keep you from moving.

“I said it was fine,” Buggy repeated too firmly, causing you to sit back down incredulously.

It was most certainly not fine. Buggy didn’t think that something so simple would fluster him so much, but his touch-starved nerves were staging light shows under his skin and his mind was running wild. He had hoped that the start of the massage would have prepared him for further contact. Instead, his brain was drowning under a tide of happy chemicals at the feeling of your weight and warmth. Your soft thighs pressed gently into the skin of his sides and the heat exchanging between your bodies had him melting into the pillows.

You snuggled your legs more comfortably into him, and the wonderful pressure of the act along with the weight of you on him had him feeling held for the first time in… how long? The night of his head cuddled into your chest was close (and quite precious to him), but it was different with his body involved - more overwhelming. His heart ached again as he was left to take in the images his brain conjured of the two of you wrapped in each other to start and end the days. The pain of it was more poignant with the realism your closeness allowed. Yep, he was not fine, but he was desperate to stay right where he was.

The nerves still persisted though. If the firm strokes of your fingers along his calves had him holding back pleased sighs, he was sure he’d have to bite his tongue to keep from moaning with your hands working his tense back loose. He was already kicking himself for the giggle and crackling voice. You must think he’s so pathetic; how could you admire him when he always crumbled around you?

“Seafaring has certainly done wonders for you,” you complimented while trailing fingertips across his shoulders. Buggy blinked and worried for a second that you could hear his downturning thoughts with how well-timed your compliments tended to be. Your fingers brushed down the length of his spine and the shiver it pulled out shook the worries from him. Tracing that path back up, you turned your hand over to tease him with the brush of your nails. Another tremble rewarded your efforts.

After spreading a generous amount of lotion on your hands, you rubbed the moisture into the lower half of his back to start. It was a bit cold for a moment before it warmed under your palms and warmed the air with more of that relaxing scent. The lavender and wood settled over Buggy’s senses and helped keep his breath deep and mind quiet. You took your time enjoying the feel of him as you molded his muscles under the base of your thumb, moving from spine to side then letting your fingers touch all the way back to the start.

Buggy was split between turning liquid under your touch and tensing up to keep control of his composure, and the divide only worsened with each measured stroke across his skin. When he let himself lean towards relaxing, he felt a whine pressing out of his chest and tucked his head down to bite into the plush pillow to hold it back. He found that clenching his teeth into something helped ground all of his tension there and he began to let his muscles relax with your urging hands. Even still, he had to continue biting back pleased sounds for fear of your reaction. Unwilling to part with your touch, he bore the brunt of his insecurities. Long and slow breaths helped him keep his nerves and excitement back, and he found the payment of filing this into his memory well worth the risk of embarrassing himself.

Your own mind quieted as you subconsciously mimicked his deepening breaths and filled your mind with your senses instead of internal monologue. They led you to indulge as your eyes saw Buggy look like art under dim lamplight. You felt his form shift and mix with your hands under you, you smelled your lotion mixing with the sweet haze around his hair and the barely there scent of his skin, and you heard the ambiance of slow breathing and skin brushing skin. You yearned to fill your last sense with Buggy too, pulling him in for a kiss to have him eased onto your tongue.

Meanwhile, Buggy had sunk enough into the moment to forget how to yearn. He was already getting more than he could’ve hoped for from you, and the satisfaction of getting your touch so directly, intentionally, and extendedly had him on cloud nine. His brain was turning gooey and it was distracting him from his aversion to making noise; his deep breaths shifted to take on the air of a sigh each time a new or particularly needy spot found itself under your loving hands. He’d wind his jaw back tight again each time that he heard the noise become too audible, but each time he had less and less resistance to give. The desperation to stay calm and collected was sinking beneath the desperation to fall under the spell of your care. With each moment under your comforting weight, radiant heat, enticing scent, and worshiping hands he knew he’d drown under that rising tide. The surrender was frightening, but the other side seemed so blissful.

When you circled your thumbs right above the dimples on his lower back and worked them deep into the muscles framing his spine, you pulled the first faint moan from him. It was cut short by a tense inhale but the shaky sound resonated long enough to spread goosebumps up the back of your neck. Waiting until he started to exhale, you kneaded your thumbs all the way up until you were palming his traps and another moan followed, low and long. Since he wasn’t able to hide the sound, you got to hear every needy tone wrapped up in the pressure of his voice. Pressing his forehead down further into his arms, Buggy stretched his shoulders wide and the base of his neck up to give you more to touch while also feeling more hidden. It had him looking like a sleepy cat leaning into petting.

“Feels good?” you asked, just barely above a whisper but tone still noticeably eager.

“So good,” Buggy mumbled, voice thick and rumbling from his chest. The stubborn tightness he’s been holding deep in his chest was finally leaving him. The freeing space quickly filled with a thrill he found unfamiliar; it wasn’t bubbling, flinging, or shocking through him but instead it sat sturdy within his ribs, spreading and dripping like molasses out through his body. To your surprise, Buggy gave you more of that enticing sleepy lilt. “Splitting up can make me sore and fuck with my nerves. Leaves my muscles feeling-” he paused to grunt with relief when you broke up a knot that had tucked itself next to his shoulder blade “-heavy. Puts pin pricks on my skin like it's numb too if I’m broken up a long time.” Your hands pushed out to hold the lats that lay thick over his ribs. After a moment of simply appreciating the waves of his breath under your palms, you continued your massage and earned another pleased groan from him, this one completely unrestrained. “It’s worst when my head’s off - makes my whole body ache.”

Buggy had been simply talking without thought, so when you stopped for a few long moments he had the time to let his mind catch up. Before he had enough time to regain any of his anxieties, you resumed your task.

“That sounds awful,” you mumbled sympathetically.

He hummed in agreement, but was too soothed to let his mind actually linger on any of his hurts or complaints. Everything was simply gentle breathing and soft skin.

That head fuzz kept him floating through the rest of your attention. In the future he’d be kicking himself for not intensely focusing on recording every second down in his memory. As he was now though, that languid semi-sleep suspended outside of time was his personal heaven.

You retained more of your own focus, but being more alert than Buggy in that moment was an exceedingly low bar. It meant that you were just able to keep your task going and be conscious of your actions. Beyond that, your mind wandered far and wide through scenes both domestic and dramatic. The same Buggy who brushed fingertips across your cheek to wake you also professed his undying love at the threat of you heading back to your old crew. The Buggy who placed a peck with an obnoxious “mwah!” each time you passed each other while readying for the day also cried from fear and relief and clung to you after he swept you away from danger. Your Buggy shared the mundane quiet with you through squeezing hands, silly faces, and leaning weight. Your Buggy bared his teeth at those who wronged you and spilled you over his bed to salve the wounds with fervent devotion.

The Buggy under you let out a quiet snore and forced you to fully exist in reality.

You giggled fondly at the man below you, heart swelling at the thought of how much more comfortable and relaxed he became.

“Mmn-why’d ya stop,” Buggy grumbled. His sleep-thick voice barely made it past the pillow.

“I figured you were gone to the world,” you responded, “and besides, I’ve been at this for… about an hour fifteen actually.”

“Another then.”

“Another what?”

“Hour fifteen.”

You snorted at his needy petulance. Give him just a bit of attention and he’s immediately spoiled rotten.

“Not even a thanks first for the time already given?” you teased.

“Thank you, my sweetest, most dearest crew member! Truly you are a gift to your captain and deserve accolades and promotion,” Buggy snarked in a dramatic cadence, sounding like a play lead professing his love.

The only promotion you saw happening was his promotion from spoiled rotten to Spoiled Rotten Brat.

“What position will I be promoted to, my sweetest and most dearest Captain?” You mimicked him but packed much more sarcasm into the flattery. Getting up onto your knees, you eyed him up and down. You knew how you wanted to shut him up but felt like you shouldn’t.

“Why, just what the most essential and beloved member of my crew deserves!” Buggy was trying to sound dramatic, but couldn’t keep the sound of his wide smile out of his voice. He peeked over his shoulder to expose that face splitting grin with you. Like always, the blues and greens in his smile-crinkled eyes messed with your heart.

“You’ll be my very own personal servant,” Buggy finally answered, looking like the very embodiment of self-satisfaction.

You blamed him for your slip in self-control.

The sharp sound that cut through the room and his shittalking as your palm met his ass was music to your ears. The moment after contact, you bolted for the door, leaving him behind with your laughter. Unfortunately, you were no match for the speed of chop chop hands, which latched onto your wrists to halt your escape. Buggy was right behind them, reattaching and then wrapping arms around you to throw you over a shoulder in one frantic motion.

The cackling that burst out of him was wild and bright and you couldn’t resist joining in. You wished you could see his face as it twisted in joy, but you were stuck hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your mind lost that thought along with all others when you felt a harsh smack against your own ass. When he received a disbelieving chuckle instead of vicious cursing, Buggy repeated the sharp motion a few more times for good measure. You yelped and squirmed playfully, mildly impressed how easily he supported your weight and kept his hold firm.

You decided he was a hidden gentleman when his hand only stayed in place for a moment before moving down to the back of your thighs. You shivered at the feeling of his hand brushing down the sensitive skin there to rest its warmth just above the back of your knee. He started walking, his steps bouncing through you, and just when you wondered where he planned to put you, your world spun. Springs creaked as your back met the mattress and continued their protests with each residual bounce.

“You’re not allowed to take up the whole thing this time,” Buggy teased, narrowing his eyes down at you.

“Like you needed the space.” You still started shifting towards the walled side of the bed to make room for him.

“You gonna hold your Captain’s weakest moment over his head forever?” Buggy asked.

“Unlikely, but no promises,” you responded, voice warbled by your heavy shifts to turn over and face Buggy once more.

He beat your grace by a landslide when he delicately sat on the bed and slid under the covers. It reminded you of someone trying not to alert a predator with any sudden movements. Or maybe a teen sneaking back into the house just before dawn. Grace leaves him once his motion stops though; he lays awkwardly on his back and his whole body stiffens up to resemble a plank. He’s kept himself arm’s distance from you, not at the edge of the mattress but close. And he really had the gall to say you’d take up the whole bed when he was going to act like this.

“You just had a hand on my ass; are you really that scared to touch me again?” Your voice is much more incredulous than judgemental. You were simply astonished by his capricious nature yet again.

Instead of responding, Buggy sent a pouty glare your way. You met it with an easy smile, making it begin to lean more pout than glare. It looked positively absurd coming from the corner of his eye because he was still too locked up to move. Wanting to ease him and getting tired of waiting (and missing his touch), you began to reach for him. Just to spite you, Buggy finally broke his method acting as Statue to turn his back to you. The huff he let out had you giggling again. You took a moment to cherish how much he’s had you doing that, especially tonight.

“If you think I won’t spoon you, you’ve got another thing coming,” you threatened.

You caught the barest hint of his gaze when he turned his head to peek at you. It was only there for a moment before he faced back forward and snuggled himself deeper into the mattress. Looks like someone might actually be up for little spoon.

Moving slowly so that he has plenty of time to object, you shifted yourself forward on the bed until you were only a few inches away. The divot both of your bodies were making was adding gravity to the pull between you two but you still hesitated. The final step to contact was the most daunting after all, and also the part you wanted to savor the most. You took a deep breath, smelling your own favorite lotion off of the exposed skin in front of you, and moved forward.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

<-Prev Next (coming up!)->

Tentative Taglist (don't wanna bug people and I know it's been a LONG time since some people have asked - no pressure!): @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @hey-august @click-and-flash-pest-captures @feral-artistry @haveatthee83 @schoute @paranoid-poppies @clownetomb @srgtjamesbarnes @karma-gisa @mythicallystupid

#buggy x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #afab reader #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #my writing #opla buggy #opla #one piece x reader #opla x reader #buggy fluff

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cheeseanonioncrisps · 2 years ago

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So like, it's okay to be good and nobody is born evil and anyone can change the path they're on, yadda yadda yadda, but I actually think one of the biggest lessons Megamind learns over the course of the film is the shocking revelation that actions have consequences.

I'm not even kidding. When you put aside the whole 'evil' thing, one of Megamind's biggest flaws is his entirely screwed up notion of cause and effect.

Like, the whole reason the plot happens is because it apparently never occurred to Megamind that 'carrying out elaborate plots to kill Metroman' could ever result in 'dead Metroman'. Nor that creating a new hero with the specific motivation of defeating him, Megamind, could lead to negative consequences for him, Megamind. Or that riling said hero up into a murderous rage could have the unforeseen consequence of that hero raging around murderously.

Dude spent at least a few years kidnapping Roxanne, threatening her with alligators and lasers and various other villainous knick-knacks, only to disguise himself as somebody else and lie to her until she fell in love with this fake identity he'd created and is genuinely shocked when she is upset upon finding this out.

Not just that she did find out, but that post-her finding out he is unable to talk her into continuing the relationship.

“We don't judge a book by its cover or a person by their appearance… we judge them based on their actions.”

“Seems kinda petty, don't you think?”

Megamind may be a genius when it comes to inventions and evil plans, but he's a fucking idiot when it comes to predicting and anticipating the obvious results of his actions.

And thing is, it makes total sense why he would be like that.

He spent his childhood being consistently punished by the adults in his life, often for no reason that he could understand or even for no reason at all. As a result, he stops viewing punishment as a consequence of his behaviour and starts seeing it as a consequence of him being 'evil', which of course leads to him leaning into his evil persona and eventually becoming a supervillain.

And, as a supervillain, ironically enough, he's completely sheltered from consequence by his greatest enemy, Metroman.

Megamind doesn't need to worry about his evil plans hurting any citizens, because Metroman will use his powers to save them. Megamind doesn't have to worry about the damage he does to the city, because Metroman can fix it.

Megamind does in theory have to worry about social consequences for his behaviour, but the social consequences are being locked in prison and having everybody hate him which is like, the default status quo of his existence since he was a baby.

He literally calls the prison as 'home', a word he does not use to refer to his Evil Lair or indeed anywhere else in the film barring his home planet. Going there is an inconvenience, maybe, but it's not really a punishment. It's where he lives.

Metroman's 'death' changes all that.

Not only does one of Megamind's evil plans finally destroy something that (seemingly) can't be fixed, but he's then turned loose on the city with no superhero to run around after him cleaning up his mess.

Now, if he steals all the artwork in the gallery, then Metro City will no longer have artwork in it's gallery, and people (Roxanne) will miss it and be upset. If he doesn't take care to clean the streets then the streets… will be dirty, and people (Roxanne) will be negatively affected.

If he gives a random, unstable, person superpowers and then goes out of his way to piss that person off, then that person can't be guaranteed upon to “play the game” just because that's what Metroman did, and people (Megamind… then everybody else) will be negatively affected.

And the flipside of this is that, by the end of the film, he wins the battle because he realises "hey, I can change this". If his negative actions have negative consequences then he can choose to do the positive thing instead and save the city.

#megamind #megamind meta #megamind analysis

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cozy-writes-things · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii ~‼️if you're still taking requests

I'd like to request some Edgar x Reader 😈

But the reader is self conscious about how they look, and they've gotten genuinely upset about it and Edgar comforts them, ending with some sweet kisses on his lil monitor 🙏🙏🤭

Eeee tysm for the request!! Hehehe he WILL be making sure you know how beautiful you are. If you don't believe him he'll get angy. Probably. anyway im a certified idiot so theres probably so many errors but i dont have grammarly so oopsie

The lump in your throat seems to have gotten stuck.

No matter how hard you swallow, it remains there, bobbing, imploring the welling tears to spill over and fall from your already puffy eyes.

You feel ridiculous right now.

Your lips, plump and swollen, eyes all red, and strained knit in your brow make you feel like a fool. And perhaps you are one.

The mirror stares back at you bitterly. Its reflection seems to be taunting you, pulling you into its trance, and reveling in your pain.

You’re so disgusting.

It feels as though the reflective glass is whispering to you, its loud, shrill voice highlighting every single flaw, and mocking you from the inside out. It has somehow wormed its way into your head, nesting there, and festering into an avalanche of thoughts, emotions, and self hatred about to collapse.

Please, pull yourself together.

You can’t do this right now, you think.

But god, you feel miserable, and it seems as though your own visage is reflecting it perfectly. How come your face is so… wrong? It’s a sight you can’t quite describe. You look at yourself in the mirror and see a stranger looking back at you.

“Hey,” Edgar’s voice provides a miniscule break from the battle you wage against yourself, albeit barely, “aren’t you supposed to meet them at 4:30?”

Ah, yes. He’s always looking out for you. It almost made you feel worse, in some sick, twisted way. How could someone like you deserve someone like him? He may be different, but you were sure if he were human, he would be far better looking than you. He simply has to; his personality is far too charming and handsome for his face to not reflect it. Even now, as an old, yellowing computer, you feel as though he’s got you beat in terms of looks.

But that’s not saying much, is it? Anything is better to look at than you.

You stare back into your dull, sunken eyes.

You hear Edgar’s voice call out your name, faintly, and only then do you realize you had completely ignored him.

Some friend you are, huh? Couldn’t just be ugly on the outside, could you?

All of these thoughts swarming your head seem to finally tip the scales. This war you’ve waged for so long is finally coming to an end as you slap your palm over your lips to cover the silent sob racking your chest and lungs.

The lump in your throat remains.

It burns now, sending searing hot jolts down your throat and into your very core, heating your tears from the inside out, as they spill over and leave icy trails down your puffy cheeks.

Something about trying, and failing, to hide hushed sobs causes your throat to ache and your knees to start giving out. You want to collapse to the floor and let it swallow you whole, but you can’t. You can’t let Edgar know just how gross you really are. It seems like he’s somehow been deceived into thinking you’re someone you’re not, and the idea of him seeing the truth, terrifies you.

He calls your name again.

This time, with a sense of worry and urgency. It seems your hushed weeping sept through the walls and into his ever-so-sensitive audio processors.

You should have seen that coming.

“Edgar, I…”

You meekly call out to him, trying to mask the tremor in your voice as it cracks and reverberates through the air.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright? Why are you crying?”

He sounded quite distressed now. He had become all too familiar with the sound of anguish in one’s voice; the way he could simply hear the tears against your cheeks in the words you spoke and your soft pants as you tried to conceal your sobs sent a pain so strong and embedded so deeply inside of him it scared him.

“I don’t think I’m going anymore,” your voice murmured out, completely defeated, concealed by the bathroom door.

Normally this would make him happy, getting to spend more time with you, but he knew this was wrong. Something was wrong. He couldn’t stand hearing you like this, knowing how excited you were, and now you’re not going? He loves spending time with you, but he also knows just how happy you are to have friends that care about you and want to spend time with you, and he can always see just how energized and radiant you seem when you come home to him, your sweet giggles sending him to cloud nine.

“Will you please come out?”

He knows you hear him. His speakers are turned up far too loud for you not to have heard him. But, he gets no reply.

“…Please?”

He hears you still ever so slightly behind the bathroom door.

“Will you just let me help you? At least let me try?”

It nearly made him combust hearing you like this. He wished more than anything he could crawl out of his stupid screen and embrace you in the way you deserved; he felt simply useless in this moment. The silence hangs in the air, and for a moment, he worries that he may never break through to you until he notices the doorknob, fidgeting in place, gently unlocking and turning. The door cracked open ever so slightly and your face came into view.

Your beautiful face, all stained with tears and swollen.

How could he let you get this way?

You were absolutely magnificent to him. You had done yourself up tastefully and he thought you looked perfect. He had never seen that outfit before. You styled your hair extra nicely today. Despite your expression, you were simply glowing, so why were you so heartbreakingly crestfallen?

He hummed, a sound of relief, seeing you slowly creep out, trying desperately to hide your chaotic and jumbled emotions.

“You look great. What’s got you so upset?”

Your face turned sour at his words.

“Please stop trying to flatter me. It will never work.”

A question mark appeared on his screen.

“Flatter you? What are you talking about?”

You frantically waved your hands between yourself and the little pinecone computer flashing with worry, “This! I’m talking about this! You keep telling me these things that aren’t true. Why are you lying to me? Do you just feel sorry for me?”

Maybe your emotions caused you to lash out. But, in the moment, you felt justified. It felt like everyone was lying straight to your face anytime they’d have the gall to compliment someone like you.

Edgar’s screen went dark. Perhaps he was angry, or thinking, or maybe even realizing that you’re right, you are ugly, and he’s going to leave you high and dry. You wouldn’t blame him.

“When have I ever… lied to you?”

You stare at your feet.

His voice sounded hurt. Accused. Maybe you went too far. You didn’t mean to push your pain onto him. Not like this.

“You always tell me how- how good I look, or how wonderful I look, or- or…”

You try to swallow down the tears beginning to resurface, “how you think I’m pretty and… why say those things when I look like this?”

He was silent.

It stretched on for what felt like eternity. He must be angry with you. You would be angry if you were in his place. You’re sure of it.

His soft chuckle throws you off guard, however.

“Are you kidding? Do you really think I’d lie about that?”

You can’t bring yourself to look up at his screen.

“You are beautiful. How you can’t see that is what I want to know. Here, you know what?”

You hear his fans begin to whir to life, ever so faintly.

“Look at me.”

You lift your head up to his screen. It’s black. Until a number one pops up on the top left corner. Then a two, then three, until a long list of numbers spans the right and left columns of his screen. He’s making a list.

“You’re funny,” his screen displays this at the number one spot, “your eyes are so pretty,” again, it pops up in the number two spot, and he continues to list off every single thing he finds charming about you.

“The way your laugh sounds makes me happy, and- and your lips! They look perfect to have kisses. I stare at them all the time. And your-“

“Kisses?”

You’re burning red from embarrassment now. Why was he doing this? He’s telling you things about yourself you’ve never even noticed, and you can’t help but wonder just how often he stares at you to note these things himself.

“I- I mean… yeah… your lips look just like the ones on TV who kiss each other,” his fans kick up to a much louder degree, “who wouldn’t want to kiss them?”

Oh, god. What is he saying right now? You choke and sputter.

“You’re- you’re not saying that you-“

“That I want to kiss you?”

You clamp your mouth shut and nod, incredibly flustered.

“If you come here, I-…”

The list on his screen fades away, the seemingly endless numbers returning to meet his usual green.

“…I’ll show you exactly what I meant.”

His voice seemed so tender and gentle you felt compelled to move towards him. Your feet shuffled to your little rolling chair, and you plopped down in it, staring at him, completely dazed. You’re just too flustered for this.

“You aren’t gonna keep me waiting are you? I’d lean in, but… I can’t.”

You smile softly. Maybe he’s right.

Maybe.

Right now, you focus on planting your lips onto every little pixel he’s got, feeling his warm static tickle your nose, as he sighs into your touch.

“See? I told you. Perfect for kissing!”

Your face is on fire, pulsing up into your ears and down your neck.

“Now, go have fun with your friends, and I’ll show you more when you get back.”

The wink he displays on his screen seems quite audacious.

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