#happy birthday Sting!! look at him everyone

[beanbagbuddies4life]

Sting the Ray

via

Born August 27, 1995

I'm a manta ray and my name is Sting I'm quite unusual and this is the thing Under the water I glide like a bird Have you ever seen something so absurd?

Sting is a Teenie Beanie too!

[kurooh]

⊹₊˚. it’s kento’s birthday, and you’re spending it in malaysia, by his side.

⟡ 18+ content (mdni), fem! reader, fluff + smut, creampie, beach sex, squirting, pussy eating, & he wants to marry you. everyone say happy birthday to nanami <3

“kento!” you scream, laughing as you run straight into the waves, the ocean water warm and inviting.

his loud laugh comes from behind you as he chases after you, practically sprinting to catch you in his arms. the sand shifts beneath your feet, shells glinting from beneath the small waves and then disappearing as the tide falls back.

kento’s happy to finally be in malaysia, the place he’d dreamed of going to since he was a little kid. what’s even better is the fact that this is his 34th birthday, and you’re spending it here, with him. the beach is beautiful, with its golden sand and clear, enticing water. it makes the perfect spot to propose to you, he thinks.

you squeal when he catches you in his arms, the both of you laughing right before the wet sand becomes unsteady beneath his feet and you both tumble to the ground in a heap. a small wave crashes over the two of you, and you both grow quiet upon realizing the position you’re in — you’re straddling his waist, small hands pressed into his big chest, you in a bikini and him in some trunks.

“ken,” you murmur, and kento’s already tugging you forward by your shoulder, kissing you deeply as he holds you close.

one of your hands slips behind his head, fingers pushing into his wet hair and pulling ever so slightly as his tongue presses between your lips. teeth begin to clash against teeth as you both become a little rougher, more eager — then he’s flipping you over, positioning himself on top of you.

“ken, i don’t wanna do it in the water..”

“mmm, i didn’t either.” kento pulls you up, appreciating how pretty and pliant you are for him as he positions you on your hands and knees. “is this comfortable, angel?”

you nod, tossing him a hooded eyed look over your shoulder as he slides off his navy blue trunks, tossing them onto the dry sand so they don’t get washed away. after all, he irresponsibly tucked a little box with a ring in the pocket, hoping to propose while playing in the waves. you reach back and yank your bikini bottoms to the side, wiggling in anticipation.

kento grips the base of his large cock, gently rubbing his tip between your sticky folds before spitting on his cock and slicking it up.

“are you ready?” he confirms, one hand on your hip, squeezing at the plush skin.

“of course i am, kento.”

and with that he’s pushing inside you, cock stretching your pussy out and filling it up at the same time. a broken moan leaves your lips as water splashes against your hands and forearms.

“you’re always too tight,” kento grunts, though he’s absolutely not complaining. “shit, i’ve been dreaming of this..”

he draws his hips back before plunging inside you fully, groaning as his fingers fumble with the bow tied knot of your bikini top. the bikini slithers off your chest, but he catches it before it falls into the water and tosses it towards his trunks.

“bein’ in malaysia, or fucking me on the beach?” you suggest breathlessly, whining loudly when he leans forward, sweeping a hand across your stomach before he reaches your chest.

“being in malaysia with you, and then fucking you on the beach,” kento clarifies, snapping his hips forward sloppily as he grabs and squeezes your tits hard. both of your nipples are pinched between his large fingers, sending a sting of pain and a shock of pleasure straight to your clit.

the heat all over your body only grows as he fucks you, building and twisting right in your pussy more and more with the way his cock head’s hitting all the right spots.

“oh, kento!” you exclaim after one particularly hard thrust that has your knees weakening and sliding in the sand, “you feel so good, i-i need it faster, please!”

“anything for you,” kento’s head falls back and his eyes close as he fucks into you as fast as he can. he releases your tits, letting them bounce and slap together as he opts to grip your hips for support.

“fuck, nghhh— god, i can’t get enough of you,” he feels his cock thicken and throb inside of you and knows he’s not too far from filling up your pussy, so he removes a hand from your hip and nestles his hand between your thighs. then his fingers find your clit and he starts to rub at the swollen bud, using your wetness for some lubrication.

a small wave crashes into your arms again, splashing onto your tits and making them grow sticky with sea water. your back arches, and you turn your head, looking over your shoulder to admire him. his hair is wet and sticking to all sides of his face, chest gleaming with some droplets of seawater, and his face is twisted in pleasure as he fucks you and furiously rubs your clit.

“k-ken, you’re gonna make me—” just as he pinches your clit the way you like it, his cock tightens inside you and he falls forward, chest pressing into your back while he wraps an arm around you tight.

“ken, ‘m cumming— cumming, feels so good, ah!” your pussy clenches down on his cock tightly, attempting to milk every last drop of cum from him all while you squirt hard onto his cock and pelvis.

kento pushes deep, pouring hot cum inside you as he groans, snatching one of your tits into his hands and squeezing hard. “mmmh.. god, i’ll never not cum fast when i’m fucking you.”

whimpering, you jiggle your asscheeks against him, and he slowly leans back with a smile. “i love you, angel.. i’m so thankful you planned this whole trip for my birthday.”

“happy birthday, ken,” you say dazedly, biting down on your bottom lip as he gently pulls his cock from you, and the hateful emptiness settles into your hole.

as you attempt to stand up on jelly legs, a large hand presses firmly into the small of your back. behind you, kento settles on his knees, lifting you close to him by your thighs as though you’re a doll.

“k-ken, what’re you doing?” you stutter, pussy clenching the second you feel his hot breath fan onto your sticky clit.

“cleaning up this mess,” he murmurs, affectionately using his fingers to collect the mixture of his cum and your squirt dripping in a long strand from between your folds. “i’m absolutely not letting this go to waste, god. not when you taste as good as you do, shit.”

he languidly drags his silky, rough tongue up and down your hole and clit, corners of his lips curling into some kind of smile when you whine in need. “d-don’t tease me like that, god..”

kento ignores you, licking the wetness from your clit and then sucking the remnants of your squirt from your inner thighs and surrounding areas of your pussy. as you clench down on nothing, desperate for his tongue, most of his cum starts to flow out of you thick white globs, collecting at your clit in droplets and threatening to fall to the sand below.

just as you’re about to get upset at the lack of proper stimulation, kento wraps his lips around your cum covered clit and sucks hard.

“kento! your t-tongue’s so fucking good, i need more, please!” your fingers squeeze into the sand, mouth falling open in pure bliss. loud, panting moans leave your lips thoughtlessly as he pulls your pussy closer to his mouth, licking everything up.

“princess, it’s my birthday.” kento reminds you as he pauses to catch his breath, “and i think i want this to be my celebratory cake.”

[splatashahowlett]

Birthday Blues

logan howlett x reader

logan hated cake.

well, he hated this cake. the one rogue had spent her entire afternoon baking for your birthday. of course you would have wanted a cake portraying henry cavill out of anyone. even if it was horrifying to admit, logan came to the conclusion -after staring at the cake for twenty minutes- that what he felt may be, somewhat, probably, eventually, potentially close to what you call jealousy.

not because it wasn't his face on the cake, solely thinking about it sent him into a spiral of absurdity. but more because you weren't interested in him in the slightest, and that somehow upset him a little bit. he would live through it though. logan doesn't need anyone and the more people stay away from him the better. so no, he wasn't about to make a move or confess his feelings to you cause you couldn't even call those feelings... logan had never felt this foolish in a long time.

you were turning 28. you almost couldn't believe it. life hasn't been kind to you (read cruel and atrocious) and you were in peace with the fact that you weren't going to make it past 25. so celebrating your birthday, one more time, felt exhilarating. you weren't supposed to be alive still, so it felt like bonus time. and you wanted to make the most of it. "making the most of it" currently meant dancing on a table with your best friend, ororo. not caring if it could break under your sophisticated dance moves, if people love you or if you really did turn off the stove earlier.

in this moment, you couldn't care less. you felt truly happy.

and hot. you felt hot.

not in a "I feel cute" way -well, also in a "I feel cute" way- but burning hot.

you tried to scream over the music, telling ororo you were going outside. she clearly didn't hear you but you needed fresh air so you quickly gave up.

once you were outside you seated yourself on the stairs of the school. you ears were ringing and body sweating. you tried to enjoy the delicate breeze grazing over your cheeks but for some reason you couldn't relax. after a quick glance behind you, you figured your life long crush watching you might be the reason why.

"you startled me" you yelped, a hand flying to your chest.

"sorry kid" he answered, walking over to you. he sat down next to you, careful to leave lot of space between you two. you hated when he called you that. you didn't take it personally because he called everyone that but each time it felt like a sting in your heart reminding you that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, that it was impossible. you both stayed silent, not knowing what to say and how to say it.

"you looked like you were having fun back there" he said, lighting a cigar. you smiled and turned your head to look at him. you were leaving the school soon and this "ahead of time nostalgia" pushed you to do something stupid; you suddenly wanted to find out if there could be something between you. alcohol could also be a factor. so you kept your gaze on him, heart beating at an expeditious and maybe even unhealthy rate.

"I was" you nodded, "were you having fun?" you added.

"s'not really my thing" he sighed, not annoyed but more disappointed.

"having fun?" you joked, still looking at him, he glanced at you with a smile on his face. you were effortlessly soothing to him. you were his own personification of serenity.

"no, dancing and all..." he replied, still smiling.

you looked down, your smile slowly fading. "I'm gonna miss this. our nighttime conversations" you complained. logan's stare was still on you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"you're leaving?" he asked, urgently. you only nodded, saying it out loud would be heart-wrenching. you both fell silent again. you didn't know what to do, should you tell him you've been in love with him since you first saw him? should you tell him you hate him so leaving would be easier? should you stay? a thousands thoughts were rushing through your mind for what felt like an hour but really was only a long minute. this shattering turmoil was interrupted by logan standing up.

"teach me." he said, while holding out a hand. you looked up, confused.

"teach you what?" you said, though still taking his hand and following him on the grass.

"to dance, I want to learn to have fun. I want to have something left from you once you're gone" he said, straight into your eyes and you felt your breath stuck in your throat. so you took a step and captured his other hand in your free one.

"I'm no professional logan" you bantered.

"but you're more than passionate about it, it's all that matters" he answered, in all sincerity while you started guiding his steps into a slow dance. his hand was on your waist, keeping you close to his body.

"were you watching me?" you asked, feeling bold enough to flirt.

"how could I not? you seem to catch my attention in every room you walk in" he admitted, not showing how scared he was at the moment.

"why didn't you say anything sooner? why didn't you say anything when we had time?" you whimpered, on the edge of tears.

logan stopped dancing and pulled you to him. silently apologizing.

"my heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own" you muttered, in a desperate attempt to fix whatever was to be fixed. logan closed his eyes, jubilating at your confession which also broke his heart considering you both acknowledged your feelings for each other once it was too late. "kiss me" he heard.

so he did, he did kiss you. he kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do, because it was in a way. he knew he couldn't keep you from leaving, so he let you have a part of him with you: his heart, along with a promise of seeing each other again.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Four

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Descriptions of past domestic violence, past abuse, past sexual assault, SANE exam. Death scene in relation to reader's job. Stalking. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Comfort. Soft dads. Johnny is a shameless flirt.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday sweet Penny-“ 

Their baby shrieks at the crest in the song, smile shoving her plump cheeks upwards, little fists banging on her highchair tray. She has no idea what’s going on, Johnny imagines, but he knows she’s excited that everyone is singing to her, looking at her, celebrating her. “happy birthday to you!” She swings a hand forward, plunging into the buttercream icing of the cupcake, fingers digging in as much as she can. Johnny can't help but give her the biggest kiss he can manage while trying to dodge the flying food, and Simon laughs over his shoulder. 

“Atta girl.” Simon encourages, trying to peel the wrapper so she can get more in her mouth, icing and cake all over his fingers now too, and Johnny wanders for a second, imagining something certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s first birthday. 

“Can’t believe your kid is a year old.” Kyle says from behind him, two beers in his hand. “Feels like yesterday you were even tellin’ us she existed.” 

“Time is movin’ too fast.” Johnny agrees, taking a long sip as Simon pulls Pen from the highchair, white and blue icing all over her face, arms, and hands. Kyle is right, it is hard to believe it’s been a year, hard to believe that their baby is already one, growing up right before their eyes, taking her first steps, saying her first words. He knows it won’t be long until she’s really talking, running, riding a bike, going to school… thoughts of the future forming a lump in the back of his throat that sticks like taffy. 

Simon steps into his orbit with Penny in his arms, keeping her turned outwards away from his body, half tilted to avoid the sticky smear of icing that’s painted all over her. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against Johnny’s cheek, warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Nothin’ ah-“ Penny babbles, head tipped back, gazing at him with wide, pretty eyes, and Johnny rubs a knuckle across her messy cheek. “she’s gettin’ so big. Feel like ‘m missing it, sometimes. Like I should be here.” Simon sighs. 

“Johnny-“ 

“I know, I know.” They made this decision, together. They chose what was best for their family, even though they both knew the distance, the time apart, would sting.  

“The option is always there if you want to swap. Though I think we both know you’d lose your head behind a desk.” He nods, but the longing lingers, and Simon reads him right through to his heart, like always. “After this next op, let’s sit down and talk about it. Maybe we can make some adjustments for next year.” 

“Ah love ye.” 

“I love you too.” He shifts Pen into his side, inclining his head towards her grubby hands. “Can you wash her up?” She reaches for him, trying to latch around his neck, and he rubs her back, cooing into her hair. 

“Whit happened to my precious bairn, eh? Where’d she go?” Pen giggles, fingers finding his nose, long strands of his hair with a tug, and he playfully lifts her, mouth against her tummy, blowing loud raspberries over her shirt that has her absolutely screaming with glee. 

“Da. Dadadada-“ she babbles at him. 

“C’mon wee lamb, let’s go get ye into some clean clothes.” 

There’s an envelope shoved under your front door.

The shitty carpet in the hallway is too high, threads jagged, so it sits a little crumpled, half wedged beneath the bottom and the floor.

It’s manilla. Letter sized. Stepping over it to get inside, you immediately notice the lack of postage. Or addressing. Or anything at all, that would signify that it had been delivered by proper authorities.

It’s from him. 

You know it is, even though you try to find any other rational reasoning, anything that could explain the mystery behind the envelope and how it got here.

You know. You know it’s probably a letter. Handwritten. Signed in perfect penmanship. You know it’s probably something foul, sick words twisted into terrifying sentences.

You kick it inside and let it sit there for a few minutes. You get changed, get into comfortable clothes, start your kettle. You wrap your sweater tight around your body and lean against your countertop, staring at the offensive tan-beige paper that lays in the middle of the floor.

It’s from him. 

He knows where you are. 

“That’s impossible.” You answer yourself aloud, fingers curled so tight into your palms that they make little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

Your illusion, delusion, of safety, anonymity, is easily washed away by the appearance of the envelope, and whatever lurks inside it.

It’s too soon. 

You didn’t make it.

It’s not a letter inside the envelope at all.

It’s a photo.

A photo of you, taken in harsh hospital lighting, dated over two years ago. It’s taken from the shoulders up, skin bare and exposed, fresh impact bruising around your neck, eye starting to swell, lip crusted with blood.

You remember this photo. You remember the awful experience of the SANE exam, the drive to the hospital that took over two hours because you had to go to another state, just in case.

You hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Your white eyelet blouse, one of your favorites, was splattered red, bright ruby dried a dark wine by the time you pulled into the little county hospital.

You remember the way it felt, to have your clothes put in a bag. To be handled by gloved fingers, with care and attention. The same way you had done for others before that day, and since.

“What’s your name?” your nurse had asked you, so cautiously, so kind. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She tried to promise, but you knew the truth. There was nowhere you could run, not a single place you could hide, where a shadow wouldn’t find you.

The girl, the woman, in the photo is the same person that looks back at you in the mirror every day, except now she’s buried beneath layers and layers of function, schedule, consistency. She’s silenced by distraction. By work.

By fear.

You flip it over with trembling hands, looking for the note or signature you know will be there. Like a greedy, starved pig; he cannot help himself. 

Found you. 

Bile rockets up your esophagus and into your mouth. How long will he toy with you this time?

“Hey, you okay?” Nia asks, frowning at you from her locker.

“Yeah, just slept like shit.” You roll your shoulders, emphasizing the half-truth. You really did sleep poorly, fragments of nightmares keeping you suspended in twilight sleep, clips of memories morphed into the snapping. bloodied jaw of a monster who reared their head every time your REM cycle started, and it shows. In your face, your posture, your skin. You look awful, the only thing really holding you together the resolve you have to push through, to get it together, to leave the envelope and its contents behind in your mind. You’re safer inside these walls above anywhere else, that you know is true. Your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here. “You know how it is.” You add, and she chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Thought I was going to love overnights, but the sleep schedule is brutal.”

“You get used to it.” You assure her, the two of you making your way down the hall to the pit, and she shrugs.

“If you say so.”

You stand outside of two sixty-eight for too long. People pass you in the hallway, eyes curious, and you pretend to scroll through the tablet, decidedly trying to distract yourself from the dread that’s gathered like a sailor’s knot in the pit of your stomach.

You’re a professional. This behavior is definitely unprofessional. Get yourself together. 

You try, filling your lungs with a deep breath, but you can’t shake the shame, the mortification that is curdling in your stomach at the idea of facing Simon and Johnny after the code black situation last week.

“Go sit with Johnny.”

“Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

Will they be angry that you were so rattled? Could they tell? 

Your watch alarm beeps, and you uncurl your spine.

Buck up. 

You’re both anxious, and relieved, that Johnny is asleep when you finally step inside. Simon sits in his usual spot, paperback book’s spine split in the palm of his hand, and at first… he doesn’t even look up. Not until you clear your throat, and he startles in the chair, eyes snapping up to find yours. “Hi.” He frowns.

“What day is it?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“I thought you start your week on Thursdays.” That makes your eyebrows raise, uncontained surprise filtering through you. He knows your schedule? Butterflies thrash in your stomach at the notion, something hot flooding your veins as you blink at him.

“I’m on OT.” You drift towards the other side of the bed, eyeing Johnny’s monitor before lifting the blanket to peek at his elevated leg. “How is he?”

“Uncomfortable. The burn debridement has been… difficult.”  You chew on the inside of your cheek. They better not be letting Simon even stand outside and watch that through the window, you think. You’ll have to follow up with whoever is on days.

“Healing burns can be a long and painful process.” You tell him, pulling back the blanket a little further. “I’ll be quick, try to let him get enough sleep as possible.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you.” Simon answers, still watching your every movement, eyes dark and focused above the black cloth mask. The intensity in them catches you off guard when you meet his gaze, hair on the back of your neck standing up straight, and you swallow.

“Well, I’ll still be here in the morning when he wakes so…” you trail off awkwardly, choosing to direct your attention to the scaffolding that’s supporting his femur and hip, checking his sutures for any redness or swelling.

“Do you work a lot of overtime?” Simon asks at the same as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makes your heart bleed inside your chest, blood warming beneath your skin, captivating your attention until he’s tearing his eyes away from Johnny, and latching onto yours with an expectant expression.

“Oh. Um. Sometimes?”

“Seems like a lot.” He comments, words lazily pulled from his lips, his tone soft, nearly a whisper. “Must make it difficult to spend time with your family, or partner.”

“Oh, I don’t have one of… those.” You immediately refute, pulling up short before the word those, embarrassment making your nose burn. Why are you telling him this? Why are you announcing to a stranger that you’re practically a recluse loner? 

Simon’s head tilts, and he looks like he’s about to say something but your tablet chimes, insistent and loud, signaling a vitals issue in another room.

“E-excuse me.” You stumble, and he nods, turning his attention back towards Johnny.

One… two… three… four…One… two… three… four… One… two-

The count in your head is second nature at this point, turning over and over after four as your arms, back and core start to scream, your breaths coming in shorter. Where the fuck is he? 

The count continues to roll on, lactic acid building up through your muscles, and you take another deep breath, as much as you can manage. The pain is familiar, it’s necessary, it’s a part of your job, but today, it’s burrowing itself beneath your skull, tugging and tearing at the memories that you’ve buried deep.

Pain. Gnarled and knotted strands of associations pull free from the confines of compartmentalization, stretching out across the front of your mind.

One… two… three… four…

You think about the photo. About being on your back, in a bed like this, lost inside the maze of a panic attack while the NP took photos between your legs. While they swabbed for DNA inside of you, under your fingernails, in your mouth. It’s funny how certain things can stick with you, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling as your bloodied clothes were shoved inside, how you can’t sleep on your back now, the way you counted the ceiling tiles over and over that day. One… two… three… four…

“How long has it been?” Nia asks from the other side of the bed, hand steadily squeezing the bag at the correct rate, still watching the monitor like a hawk.

“At least ten minutes.” You glance at the shade pulled over the window, grateful you remembered when you came running in here, the patient’s family standing just outside the door, holding their breath, hoping you’re in here bringing their beloved granny back, when in reality, you’re just traumatizing her body. You’ve already broken one of her ribs, and you’re worried if you keep going, her sternum will fracture too. It’s not fair. “Where the fuck is he?” you hiss between breaths, anger starting to heat your skin, irritation clear in your tone. This isn’t even your patient. Lazy, slacker, pompous ass, where the fu-

“How long has it been?” The nervous voice just inside the door calls, and your head snaps up.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. 

“Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Where is Marshall?”

“He- he sent me.” You shake your head. Nia sighs.

“Have you pronounced before?”

“Um. No.”

“And where is Marshall?” You ask again, just to clarify, and the resident swallows.

“I uh, don’t know.” Normally, a resident’s first pronouncement would be supervised by their attending. But since this one’s attending is Marshall, a grade A prick that you can’t stand, it looks like he’ll be on his own.

“Great. Okay.” You take a huge breath, trying to flex your wrists without losing your position. “It’s been twelve minutes now, and no response. Do you want to check?” He nods, and you chew on the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t verbally respond. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“You can stop compressions.” You immediately wilt, stepping away from the side of the bed, the motion of Nia’s hand also slowing until it stops, and she slumps. Marshall’s resident physically checks for a pulse, listens for breath sounds and then finally, does a sternum rub, to no avail.

“Sh-should I…” they trail off, looking back down at the elderly woman in the bed. The deceased woman, whose family is waiting, desperately. You nod.

“Yes.” You tell the resident gently. You can tell he’s unsure, nervous even, and for a moment, you’re transported back to your first code, when you were a baby nurse, a terrified, bumbling mess that needed help, just like he does. And since Marshall is a piece of shit… “No pulse?” You ask, and they nod. “No breath sounds? No sound of a heartbeat?”

“None.” They answer you confidently, and you manage an encouraging smile.

“No response to painful stimuli, no reaction to the sternum rub?”

“Right. No.”

“Okay. So normally, you could also use a thumbnail to press into their nailbed, if you feel like you need it, if you’re not comfortable with the sternum rub, but-“

“No, no. I’m. Yeah. Okay.” They too, take a deep breath, and check their watch. “Time of d-death… twenty one forty five.”

“Great job.” You tell him, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable speaking with the family?” He blanches, and Nia’s work phone dings, signaling another patient’s needs. You sigh for the eightieth time tonight. “Okay. Come on, we’ll do it together.”

The supply closet welcomes you with open arms. It hides you in the low light of it’s forgotten space, and when you fall into the chair, your face drops into your palms, pressing so hard into them that you start to see stars. The curtain falls. The walls of your sanctuary start to feel frail. 

Found you, found you.

He found you. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

“Hey, there she is. Missed ye.” Johnny coos, eyes half shut, sleepy and sweet.

“Johnny.” Simon rumbles his name like a warning, one your patient doesn’t seem to heed, still blinking slowly at you with a sly look on his face.

“Had a dream about ye, pretty girl. Dreamt ye were at ho-“

“Alright.” Simon cuts him off, swiftly. Patients often have vivid, weird dreams when they’re all dosed up on medication, and it’s not the first time someone has slurred out some weird vision they’ve had of you in their sleep.

“Good morning to you too.” You quip, glancing at the catheter bag before putting your hands on your hips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m alright. Stomach hurts.” You frown.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” He motions to his upper right, the area where his newly repaired liver is sitting, and you nod, pulling out your phone immediately to update his doctor. Could be nothing. Could be something. Not for you to determine, but you won’t let it go unnoticed, and you’ll make sure it’s top of mind during shift report. “Can I check your side?” You motion to where his burn is lightly wrapped, and he nods with a sheepish smile.

“Aye, sure can. Ye can take my clothes off anytime.” You roll your eyes, unbuttoning his gown at the shoulder, peeling the gauze away very slowly. The wound looks better than you were expecting, if you’re being honest, and it relieves some of the anxiety that curled up in the pit of your stomach after his admission of upper right quadrant pain. “Yer hands are warm, bun. Feels nice.” Bun? You opt to ignore it. Probably still a little floaty.

“Good, that’s… good. Better than them being icicles.” Your hand brushes across the center of his abdomen when you pull the rest of the dressing away, and he tenses, ab muscles becoming clearly defined, enough that you stall out for a second before turning away to grab fresh gauze for his wound care, hands just a little unsteady. “Oh, fuck.” You mutter when the pack slips, sliding halfway under the little table that’s along the wall, and you sigh, whirling away from both of them and bending at the waist to tiptoe your fingers across the floor until you feel the corner of crinkly plastic. “Gotcha!” When you straighten, turning back towards the bed, Johnny and Simon are staring at you, and there’s a glee filled smile on Johnny’s face, it’s presence both mischievous and beguiling, fingers of his good hand slowly rubbing circles into the inside of Simon’s forearm. “What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him.” Simon deadpans, and then shoots his partner a very serious look, one that nearly has you straightening like you’re in trouble.

“Ach.” Johnny huffs, stroking a gentle touch upwards across Simon’s jaw as you start to reapply his dressing, taking your time to ensure everything looks good and he’s comfortable. You smooth over it once you’re satisfied, checking for any precarious pieces of tape. “Ye take such good care o’ me.” Johnny murmurs, accent soft and scratchy. It’s decadent the way his voice sounds sometimes, enough to make your throat dry and the room feel too hot. “Got lucky, didnae we, Si?”

“Well, it’s m-my job.” You answer, trying not to look down at where his chest and stomach are still exposed, or get caught in the cerulean blue waves of his eyes. They’re such a stark contrast to the intense, velvety hue of Simon’s, the pointed focus of his gaze that’s able to stun you, throw you off kilter the same time Johnny’s makes you feel overheated, and lightheaded. Both of them together could drown you. Overwhelm you.

Balanced. A yin and a yang. 

Get it together. This is your patient and his partner, for gods sake. What is wrong with you? 

Something warms brushes along the skin of your knuckles, a fleeting touch, and when you look down, you see Johnny’s hand, two fingers barely stroking yours, the lightest touch catching your breath in your chest like time is slowing to a crawl, and you’re freezing along with it.

Everything goes quiet in your head.

Simon’s watching you, methodically studying you like he’s trying to decipher every twitch in your expression as Johnny’s fingertips move over your knuckles to the back of your hand, thumb slipping into your palm, blazing heat sparking beneath it.

What… what is happening? 

A phone vibrates. The noise snaps you free from your near statuesque state, and they both divert their attention to its screen. 

“They’re here.” Simon tells him, glancing at you before looking back to his partner. “Be good.” He warns, and Johnny rolls his eyes in response, but he looks almost… desperate now, eyes wide and anxious. 

“Hurry?” he asks, hopefully, Simon leaning down to press mask covered lips to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed, deep breath passing between their two bodies.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m really concerned about the pain in his upper right quadrant. I already sent a text, but if his doctor isn’t on this floor in the next hour, page him again.” The dayshifter nods, tapping a note into her phone. “And Marshall’s resident is practically unsupervised, so keep an eye out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You mention a few other things, details you noticed throughout your day, and she thanks you for the extra eye, sending you off with a parting wave into the cold, crisp morning, your mind already skipping over your commute to when you’ll be able to sink into your bed one last time.

You’re busy compiling a list as you wait for the elevator. Necessities, things you’ll need indefinitely as you bounce back and forth between a rotation of hotels and on-call rooms, all the usual stuff, clothes, toiletries, and all the important things that can’t be left behind, your birth certificate, passport, other things that could make or break you if lost.

Deep breath. You can do this. It’s not the first time. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. 

The elevator dings. You take a step forward, not paying attention, and then pull up short when you see who’s getting out.

It’s Simon stepping towards you, with a baby girl in his arms. She’s situated on his hip, nestled into his side and for a second, you falter because… you recognize her. Or at least you think you do... she looks just like the little girl you saw last week.

“Um. Hi.” You blurt, failing to notice at first that he’s not alone, the man from the first night you met them, the one with the mustache standing behind the width of Simon’s body, his arm curled around the woman you saw last week. They step into view, and you give them all a polite smile, one you really hope doesn’t betray your confusion. 

“Hi,” he says your name next, says it so softly it feels tender, and then takes another step closer. “This is Penelope. Our daughter.” Oh. Oh.

They have a baby. A girl. They have a little girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you stumbles, melting into a frazzled, awkward mess, heart thumping in your chest. They have a baby, and Johnny almost died. They have a kid and he’s been trapped in this hospital, miserable in pain, missing his kid. “Pen, this is your Da’s favorite nurse.”

“Bunny.” The baby, Penelope, says, little finger stretching out towards your badge, which is facing outwards with the giant sparkly sticker. Simon chuckles, genuinely, masked lips pressing to her cheek, and you see a glimpse of a father, a protector, a provider. It makes you feel dizzy.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod like a robot, unable to really form a word with your tongue. “Alright baby girl. Let’s go see your Da, yeah?”

[coco-loco-nut]

Blue Birthday

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: charles accidentally missed your birthday

a/n: thanks for the request 🫶 i hope you like it! my requests will be fully open again soon

masterlist

———————

You met Charles through your Uncle Ayrton’s foundation. You were at an event with your Aunt Viviane before the Brazilian GP and Charles was a volunteer.

Everything was so easy with him, he made every effort to make sure you knew how much he loves and appreciates you. Charles didn’t even force you to move to Monaco, but as soon as you told him you were moving there for the foundation, he cleared space for you.

You never celebrated things for yourself, but Charles made sure that you knew how special you were to him, so maybe that’s why the situation you found yourself in hurt so much.

“Mon amour, I have to go to Maranello for a few days. Ferrari emergency, will you be okay?” Charles asks, and you can’t say no to him. The look he gives you tells you that he genuinely wouldn’t go if you objected.

“I’ll be okay Charles,” you tell him, following him to the bedroom to help him pack up. “Drive safe, môr,” you kiss him before he leaves. Charles didn’t tell you how long he would be gone, so there was a small bit of hope in you that he would be back home for your birthday.

The few days passed until it was the night before your birthday. You spent the day working at the foundation, eagerly awaiting Charles’s return that evening.

“I’m sorry, I have to stay a couple more days. I miss you,” Charles says over the phone as you make dinner.

“It’s okay, I know you tried,” you can’t help but to hide your disappointment for the rest of the phone call. Yet again, you crawl into an empty bed. When midnight strikes you can’t fall asleep, but that doesn’t matter much when your phone rings.

“Happy birthday! We’re sorry we couldn’t fly over from Brazil,” your father says on the video call. Your smile hides the sting.

“Thank you, Papi. It is just another day,” the words feel fake. You used to believe that, but the man who isn’t here changed your view.

“Nonsense. It is your day. I am giving you the day off, treat yourself to a spa day and a nice lunch,” your aunt tells you.

“Thank you, I won’t do any work, promise,” you yawn, wiped from the day.

You wake up late, immediately checking your phone for a message from Charles. Unfortunately for you, it feels like everyone but Charles messaged you. Hell, even Carlos texted you. Maybe he is just waiting to call you later.

The spa is wonderful, and takes up most of your afternoon. Despite the air of relaxation, you can help but to check you phone for a message from Charles, even a silly instagram reel would suffice.

Heidi invites you to a birthday dinner with Carmen, Kelly, and Lily.

“How has your birthday been so far? I just know Charles gave you the most thoughtful gift,” Heidi says as you sip on wine. You mask your grimace with a smile.

“It has been very lovely. I was able to sleep in late then I enjoyed a long afternoon at the spa. Very relaxing,” you tell them, leaving Charles out of it. The dinner is long, and you do enjoy it, but as time goes on, your heart hurts more.

Heidi pulls you to the side before you get to your car, well, Charles’s car.

“Charles forgot, didn’t he?” She asks, not giving you time to respond. “Listen, the teams have a way of occupying our guys so much that they don’t realize what day it is when they get called in. It isn’t an excuse, but keep that in mind,”

“Thanks, I needed to hear that. And thank you again for organizing the dinner,” you pull Heidi into a hug.

During the drive home, you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. When you get home all that awaits you is a text from Charles saying that he is stuck in meetings and to not wait up for him, that he will call in the morning.

You lay in bed, finally letting the tears fall. You are mad at Charles, Ferrari, the world. There is nothing you wish for more in this moment to be back home in Brazil. You don’t answer your father’s phone call, knowing he will ask how your birthday was, and you cannot lie to him. Instead, you fall asleep, still in the dress you wore to dinner, wondering if you would ever really be the number one priority to Charles.

meanwhile in Maranello…

Charles and Carlos leave the meeting, nearing Midnight. Carlos drives them to the nearby apartment they are staying in for the duration of time Ferrari needs them.

“How was Y/n’s birthday today? Did she enjoy your gift,” Carlos asks, thinking to the many thoughtful gifts he’s received from Charles.

“Fuck. That was today?” Charles panics, looking at his phone calendar.

“Charles, you didn’t?” Carlos feels his heart drop for his teammate.

“I did. I got so caught up here. I need to call her,” Charles immediately calls you, but you don’t pick up. “She didn’t answer, she’s probably asleep,” Charles can feel the tears in his eyes. He feels awful.

“I’ll call Fred, you start packing. Drive back tonight,” Carlos tells him as he parks the car. Both waste no time. Charles is packed to leave within five minutes, and Carlos left no room for negotiation.

Charles drives all night, making it back to the Monaco apartment just after 4:30 in the morning.

He walks into your bedroom quietly, not wanting to disturb your sleep. His heart breaks at the sight of you clutching his pillow, still in the dress from the night before. Charles is quick to carefully strip the dress off of you, and put his t-shirt on you. After getting you under the covers, he slides in beside you, holding you close. Even if you are upset with him, he is even more upset with himself.

When your alarm goes off in the morning, you feel the familiar warmth beside you and your heart melts a little. Charles groans, wiping his eyes as you quickly turn off the alarm. You realize what him being here means, he drove all night.

“Charles, go back to sleep,” you whisper, carefully getting out of bed.

“But I missed your birthday,” he groggily says, fighting the sleep that is trying to pull him under.

“I know, we will talk about it when I get back from work, okay? Get some sleep, you must’ve driven all night,” you tell him gently, silently getting ready for the day.

When Charles wakes up, he spends the day cleaning, restocking the fridge, and picking up the gifts he bought you months ago. He even makes your favorite dinner and his mom’s tiramisu. Carlos called while he was cooking to ask how things were going and to wish Charles luck.

“Charles? You didn’t need to do all this,” you tell him when you get home, the delicious smells from the kitchen leading you to him.

“I did, mon amour. I feel awful,” Charles wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I know, and Ferrari isn’t an excuse for what you did, but maybe you can make it up to me,” you offer a small smile.

“I have a whole night planned. Let me make it up to you,” Charles takes off your jacket for you, instructing you to sit at the dinner table. Your face lights up at the meal sitting in front of you, the candles burning, a perfect dinner date.

“Môr, you didn’t have to do all this,” you tell him when he sits beside you, serving you before you have the chance to do so for yourself.

“I was going to cook for you regardless. I will always treat you like the queen you are,” Charles smiles. You make small talk over the meal, avoiding the elephant in the room. You want to stay mad at him, but you can’t. You love him so much, and he’s made so much effort into making it up to you. Honestly, you forgave him as soon as you woke up and saw him, but you might as well milk it.

“Okay, I have a few gifts for you, but come into the bedroom first,” he tells you when you finish the dessert together. You follow him to your room where new matching silk pajamas wait on your bed, fuzzy blankets, and some snacks.

“Cuddles and a movie?” you ask with a small smile.

“Of course. While you change, I’ll go get your gifts,” Charles says, stepping out of the room. He returns a couple moments later with three boxes. You carefully open them in the order he gives them to you. The first is a white hoodie with his racing number and your uncle’s racing number stitched on the left arm, subtle but thoughtful.

“I thought that you might want something cozy for race days, especially the colder ones. There is one in red and one in black in the closet,” Charles smiles as you hold the softest hoodie known to man.

“Thanks, môr, I love it,” you smile, setting it to the side. You open the second box, it is a signed photo of your uncle and parents together, it must’ve been right before he crashed. You look a Charles a little teary-eyed.

“Ah, I should’ve saved that for last. There is someone who collects a lot of memorabilia and I reached out to see if he was willing to sell anything of your Uncle’s. When I told him it was for you, he gave it for free. Said you deserved it. Truthfully, I was going to give it to your dad for Christmas, but I thought you’d want a piece of your family here,” Charles rubs his neck shyly. You let the tears fall down your cheek as you look at the trio.

“Thank you,” you choke back a sob, flinging your arms around Charles as he holds you tightly.

“One last present,” Charles smiles, handing you a small box once you’ve composed yourself. There is a set of keys and you look confused at him. “Those aren’t your keys, it’s more symbolic. Your Ferrari Roma will be delivered next week,” he tells you, worried you are about to freak out.

“You bought me a car?”

“Well, even though I’m fine with you taking the keys to my cars, I know you don’t always feel comfortable doing so. So, I got you a car,” Charles smiles, watching you process it.

“Wow, thank you. I’ll, um, put these away. Put your pajamas on so we can watch a movie,” you carefully pick up the hoodie and picture. Charles doesn’t hesitate to put on the comfy pajamas and get in bed with you. He puts on your favorite movie and holds you close.

“I really am so sorry I missed your birthday,” Charles says as your head rests against his chest.

“I know. I’m happy you are here now though. Thank you for coming home last night and making it up to me. I love you,” you turn your head so you can look at him.

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be. I love you too,” he kisses you sweetly, happy he didn’t ruin everything.

[quirrrky]

—•✦ STUPID CUPID! 

BOKUTO's got it all, but while all his friends have special someone in their lives, all thanks to him, he was left single and alone until that one accidental night ‧˚꒰happy birthday, bokuto!! 🥳꒱༘⋆

3k+ f!reader, accidental marriage, suggestive

Bokuto “The Volleyball Hero” was the center of MSBY Jackals. He got special interviews, merch of his own and even a vlog series for god’s sakes. He seemed like he’s the most fortunate among the members, but little to what the outsiders know, he was the most envious. 

“I hope you both fulfill the love, family and happiness you're dreaming of,” Kenma called for a toast for his newly wed best friend and his wife. 

Everyone around Bokuto was getting married, engaged or partnered up.

Let’s not go anywhere far. Just take Kuroo right there who was so busy sneaking kisses from his bride from time to time.  

Not long ago, he was single as a pringle like Bokuto too. Man had casual to shallow relationships but nothing’s ever going anywhere, until that day Bokuto brought him as a plus-one at a wedding. Kuroo hit it off with another plus-one who’s not even related to the couple. It was love at first sight according to him, and now, he’s the one getting married.  

Bokuto was left single.  

He took a deep breath and saw his kouhai, Akaashi. Since he had been an athlete, he seemed to see his junior less. Excitement brewed inside him only to turn cold right away as he watched one of MSBY’s road managers lace her fingers with Akaashi’s. Yeah, it was all because of Bokuto’s meddling as well.  

Akaashi was an editor of a Volleyball-centric manga and he needed Bokuto’s insights back then and so Bokuto gave one of MSBY’s road managers as contact person to communicate with Akaashi. Now, they were set to get married next year too. 

A long sigh escaped through him. Everywhere he looked, everyone was happily in the arms of another. He slumped his shoulders. What’s so good about romance and relationships anyway? It’s not as if it’s as fun as Volleyball.  

He pouted.  

Bokuto was jealous, seething envious.  

He wanted someone to give him a loooong kiss after winning a match just like Atsumu and his fiance. He imagined someone would call him long-distance whenever he’s away like how his pretty manager would do for Akaashi. He would very much love to look at someone and laugh with her like the world only belongs to the two of them just as how much Kuroo was having the time of his life right now with the love of his life. 

All of them happened because of him yet he was left all by himself.  

Tears triggered to fall from his eyes, but he swallowed every drop of them in. He was genuinely happy for his friends, and he wished, with all his heart, that their relationships would be successful and fulfilling.  

Perhaps, he’s lucky in Volleyball but totally sucks in love. This is life. You can't have it all. So he won’t. That simple.  

All night long, Bokuto partied like an animal he never was. He drank all the hard liquor together with the bitter truth that he’s the fun single uncle his nephews and nieces would love to play with.  

“Bokuto-san, you've had enough! That’s- that’s too much!” He heard Akaashi called out to him, but he didn’t care.  

Curse all the gods! All this time he was playing cupid to all his friends and now he’s the one without anyone.  

“F@#k you!” He shouted to the heavens. Big F to that dumbass Cupid! He had been doing that loser’s job all along yet he ain’t having any reward. Asshole better train. He’d been missing his arrows when it came to him. “Aaarghh! Fu-” 

Bokuto clasped on his chest. A strong sting came right through and, all of a sudden, he bumped onto someone. He looked back and a shroud of white flooded his vision.  

Is he dead? 

But how can he hear birds chirping?  

Are there birds in heaven?  

Well, there can’t be any in hell so he’s lucky he’s in heaven.  

Bokuto opened his eyes as he slowly brought himself to sit upright. He rubbed the sleep off and took in his surroundings. Fancy room. He thought. Was this his apartment in heaven? 

He glanced at his side, and he marveled at the ethereal being he saw. Must be an angel. A smile appeared across his face. He’s so lucky to wake up next to an angel, indeed. Itching, he poked a finger on her cheek.  

Her eyes gradually opened, and he sure heard a chorus sang in his ears by how beautiful she was. She got up, wearing a large white tee, which looked immaculate on her by the way. She didn’t need wings to fly. She had already taken flight in Bokuto’s head.  

Wait! Was this even true? You blinked twice. Thrice. Four times.

"B-Bokuto..." Your eyes widened. He’s shirtless, looking so hot this early in the morning beside you in bed... 

Last night... 

You inspected your clothing which gave out every sign of intimacy and if you were right...

"Y/N!" It finally registered in his head! He's still alive and it was you? He studied you closely, taking in your swollen lips, flushed cheeks and beautifully disarrayed hair. You're lovely. You're still an angel regardless if he's just dreaming.

Who thought you were this pretty all along! Bokuto's the type of guy who could never take a hint unless you initiate and you...You never initiate nor flirt with him obviously that's why he'd never really see, consider you in that way.

Maybe it wasn't Cupid's fault, it's his. An angel was just around him but he always failed to notice.

Gulping the thick lump in your throat, if you would remember correctly...

You turned to the bedside table on your left. Surprise coloring your expression as you take the paper on the table. 

It was a dream. It was a dream. It was a dream.  

But no. 

Bokuto took a long read at the paper you were holding.  “W-Wait- We are...” 

“Yes.” 

You were, indeed, married to Bokuto Koutaro.  

One of the guests at Kuroo’s wedding was a government employee, who had the authority to officiate a marriage with just a stamp and now... 

“Semi!” Bokuto proclaimed. “It’s him! What happened?” he asked. “How?” 

You blushed. You’d rather not recall what happened last night which was a bit clear for you unlike Bokuto who was totally clueless. You snuck a glance at him. He’s so comfortable in his own skin, attractive mire than he knows it, and you were flustered, seeing him half uncovered.  

“I-I-I guess we better get dressed first!” 

“Oh! Yeah!” He agreed and stood up. The blanket slipped off his body completely, unraveling what’s left unraveled that had your eyes popping at the sight in front of you. “I’m sorry! I'm sorry!” 

You turned away red-faced. 

You were the content creator especially assigned by the JVA to Bokuto. Since he had a strong clout and they can utilize it to promote volleyball, he had exclusive interviews and vlog series, which were something you were doing for him.

You probably know Bokuto more than himself by now with all the research you've done about him and with all the time you spent with each other.

Since you were assigned to him, your career was centered around him, which was your entire life right now. You would be lying if you'd say you didn't find him attractive at all. You may have quite a soft spot for him you kept on burying to death, keeping things professional between you two until last night. If there's something aside from volleyball he's a pro at it's definitely...

You shook your head. You shouldn't be thinking these things.

Once dressed, you both decided to seek Kuroo's help. After all, the newly kept hinself sober last night.

“So we got married at the same day, huh?” Kuroo told Bokuto while waiting for Semi on the phone. The two of them talked over the guy in question to seek for a solution.

Apparently, according to Semi, divorce was the easiest method since annulment would be pricier. 

“He said we have to divorce,” Bokuto informed you. Now, this part came with a little bit of disappointment for him. “The papers will come in a month or few.” 

He was lowkey sad. He got his chance for a love life only to be taken away in a snap.

"No worries," you said. "I can wait."

Somehow, you shared the same sentiments as him. Despite your close relationship professionally, you'd want to get to know him more...personally—not as an athlete, but as an individual.

You were about to exit the hotel but a small commotion suddenly made its way towards you.

The reporters and vloggers were quick to pick up on the news, and as soon as someone saw you both together, they all approached with questions.

Bokuto couldn’t lie as he was actually proud and happy to have you, while you were worried that your accidental marriage might affect his image and sponsorship.  

You tightly held onto his hand and looked at him. He leaned down and you whispered. “I can be your wife.” His eyes grew in surprise. “For a while.”  

An ecstatic grin appeared on his face. Who would’ve thought he’d be so lucky? He got an angel as his wife, though he felt so stupid not to realize how good of a match you two would make until something unforeseenike this would happen.

Bokuto's quick to pull you close to him and he proudly announced that he’s officially a married man. You couldn’t help but feel the same happiness he was radiating. You giggled just watching him. He glanced back at you, eyes watering with gratitude. 

“You’re the best!” 

Sure, he already said that to you a hundred of times, but there's something about the way he said it this time that made it different.

•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•

You both agreed to live together in the meantime since people’s noses would be up his business. Also, soon, he’d be away for overseas training so it wouldn't be much of a big deal.  

Bokuto took his role as a husband very seriously though. He’d welcome you with a big tight hug whenever he’d come home from practice. After all, you have already done more than that the very first time you got re-acquainted.  

You’d spend the rest of the day eating and doing chores together. Some nights, you’d be playing card games and watching movies together just like two best friends, enjoying each other’s company in cold nights. 

“There you go! Catch him! Go!” Bokuto screamed at the TV.  

“Uhm...I think that’s the killer though,” you pointed out. “He’s chasing after the victim.” 

Bokuto stopped, stupefied. Damn! How could he look so much like a loser in front of you. You just laughed at him. It was not mocking, rather it was very endearing. Just watching you laugh sort of made him much bubblier too.  

Silly! He was so silly. He laughed at himself and you both shared that small but warm moment. It felt so good he didn’t want it to end. 

Aaaargh! He was truly an idiot for realizing that you were there right beside him all along and he kept his sights to non-sense pursuits. It didn't matter now what mattered the most was he got you right with him at this very moment.

Days turned into a week and it’s time for his overseas training. Bokuto felt a little off. Everybody could tell that he wasn't his usual chirpy self. He got so used to being around you that not having you in a day made him lose all balance in spirits. A pout never left his face the entire flight.  

They took a break from practice and his teammates were teasing each other when his phone rang. Lazily, he looked into it and his face lit up when he saw it was you.  

“Y/N! It’s youuu!” He exclaimed with enthusiasm. “You called!” 

“Of course,” you said. “You were away so I thought I might check up on you.” 

Timezones had it. It was during this time when you’d both watch your favorite show together, so it reminded you of him. And...maybe a day without him was something so new now for you.  

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “I never thought you would! It’s great to hear your voice.” 

You giggled from the other line.  

“Me too.” 

“Will you call me tomorrow before the game too?” His tone was almost pleading. 

“Sure,” you said, rolling all over the bed like a giddy high school girl.  

“Yes! How ‘bout even after the game? Then the next day?”  

“I would. Everyday.” 

Atsumu quirked up an eyebrow, watching Bokuto go from zero to a hundred. Just what kind of vitamins did he take just now to be so bolstered up at an instant like that.  

“What’s with him?” The blonde asked his teammates. 

Hinata scooted close to Atsumu and whispered like a gossiping old lady. “Y/N...” 

“Ohhhh...” Tsumu reacted as they talked about Bokuto and his express wedding setup, but the person in topic had all his ears on you over the phone.  

Distance didn't matter between the two of you. He enjoyed listening and talking to you over the phone. It also made coming home more exciting. He never felt this way before.  

“Y/N!” Bokuto announced, arriving home. You turned in anticipation and he copped you in his arms and twirled you around like a Disney princess.  

You were in a fit of laughter and he simply found joy in your happiness.  

“Miss you so much!” He hugged you super tight, rubbing his cheek against yours. 

“Me too! Me too! I stopped watching the series because I’m waiting for you.” 

“Oh, Y/N!” he exclaimed then remembered, “I smelled like airplane! I better take a bath first before we get back to episode 7.” 

You laughed and he headed off to the bathroom, while you set aside his luggage and kept some of his stuff.   

“Y/N! My angel!” he called from inside the bathroom and you covered your face. He was always so cheesy like that even if it’s just you two and you’re still not used to it. “I forgot to bring my towel with me.” 

You grabbed his towel and knocked on the door. He partially opened the door, showing you a glimpse of his well-toned abs and a slight peek at his bare pelvis and legs. You reached the towel to him not looking at back at his direction.  

“Are you embarrassed?” he asked, curiously. 

“Y-Yes,” you admitted, flushed to the neck. “Are you not?” 

“Why would I?” Bokuto wrapped the towel around his waist. “I believe I look good,” he said. “The same as you.” 

“W-What?” Your face heated up profusely.  

“I think you look good with or withou-”  

“Stop!” You ran away, diving into your bed and hiding under the blankets. You knew you couldn’t say no if he’d ever make a move. Under the context of your agreement, you were married..for a while. You also live uder one room, so the possibility of that is highly likely.  

You heard his steps getting closer. He sat beside you and lifted the blanket, revealing your bashful self underneath.  

He giggled. “You’re just so cute. Do you know that?” His face inched closer to yours. He kissed your nose and you closed your eyes. Next thing you knew, he had already captured your lips. His arms now caging you as you got lost, fallen under his spell.  

His eyes were so loving when you’re under him. Peeling you off from where you hide, his smiled like he couldn’t believe what he’s seeing. “You look so good. So good just like how I thought.” 

Right then and there, you allowed yourself to believe him and get swept away.  

•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•

Koutaro usually comes home early but he was getting home a little late recently. You were glancing at the clock when the doorbell rang and you thought it was him. He probably left his keys again. You headed towards the door and opened it. 

“Mail for Bokuto Koutaro-san,” the mail man informed and you signed the receiving form.

You read the delivery details attached on the envelope. 

From: Semi Eita 

You gasped. 

Divorce papers. You knew this would be the divorce papers you and Koutarou requested when you initially found out that you got married by accident.  

And you remembered that this setup was only for a while.  

Your heart ached so suddenly. You didn’t want this to end. You didn't want you and Kotarou to end. You might not start the way normal couples do, what you had for him was real. At least, for the few months you spent with each other, it seemed so real. But was it ever real for him too? 

You must’ve prepared yourself when you agreed to this arrangement. 

Tears crawled down your cheeks. You’re in love with Koutarou, but you must do the right thing.  

The door to your, no, his apartment opened. “Y/N, my angel! I’m back hooome! Where are you?” Bokuto excitedly announced, but his face dropped to be welcomed by your crestfallen face. “What happened? Why are you...” 

You wiped your tears away and forced a smile. “No, this...is just...nothing. Nothing really!”  

He sat beside you. Before he could even tease you, you handed over the envelope to him. 

You heard the material being torn open as you focused your vision to your hands on your lap.  

Several scenarios played in your head. It’s either he’d play it cool because all this time he knew what he’s singing for, and all this was just a random episode in his life—something he could easily shrug off. The other one was the probability that he loved you the same, but he wouldn’t want to ruin the agreement between you and him, so he’d gladly set you free. 

You weren’t prepared for this. Could you ask for one more night, days, weeks, months, years with him? Would he allow that? Do you really have the courage to ask that of him? But you knew your heart would be broken into shards once he rejected you.  

Your mind spiralled out of control.  

“Is this...why you’re sad, Y/N?” he asked, full of concern. You couldn’t lie about that. “Actually, I asked Semi about this. I really wanted to divorce you immediately.”  

You pinched close your eyes and gripped the fabric of your skirt. 

“But seeing that this got you sad, I guess, I better tell the truth.” He took your hand and cupped it between his. “I want us to divorce so I can do things properly.”  

You raised your head to look at him.  

He knelt down on the floor and brought your hand over his cheek.  “Oh, how could I even hurt you? It’s my fault I made you cry like this.” 

“Koutaro...” you mumbled in confusion. 

“My friends are helping me plan things. Kuroo even helped me pick, but this couldn’t wait.” Scurrying inside his pocket, he pulled out a box, flipped it open and revealed a diamond ring. “I want to marry you properly, Y/N.” 

Your tears of sadness were replaced with pleasant surprise. Your hands flew to your mouth.  

“Now, this wasn’t as grand as we are thinking of but...” His lips quivered and soon he joined you in sobbing. “I can’t afford to see you crying. I can’t break up with you, Y/N. Ilove you. You’re my angel. How can I survive knowing that I let you fly away?” 

You lovingly laughed at his signature dramatics and you knelt beside him, engulfing him in a warm embrace. “I love you, too, Koutaro.” You parted a little, looking him in the eye. “I’ll marry you.” 

He burst out in happiness as you giggled like pre-school kids encountering the magic of puppy love.  

Bokuto recalled wishing for this not a while back...To laugh like the rest of the world doesn't matter just like Kuroo and his wife back then when you two first met.  

Now, he’s got a wife too.

Maybe it wasn't Cupid who was stupid all along. Maybe it was him. The love of his life was always right in front of him yet he failed to notice.

Thanks to Cupid for doing his job at last. He finally struck an arrow to the woman Bokuto could never live without. 

@pixelcafe-network

[belovedhoon]

things i wish you would have said

divider credit: @cafekitsune

paring: beomgyu x f! reader genre: angst, smut, fluff fandom: tomorrow x together wc: 2000+ contains: smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy)

happy birthday @hmusunoo here's your presents!! ily!!! taglist: @shypen , @st1llm0nster , @lonelybutterflytae , @ayatakami

synopsis: y/n and beomgyu used to date about a year ago but are now broken up due to a dumb fight. since they are still in the same friend group, they unfortunately have to still be around each other even if it still does sting to be around each other. how do they cope with this feeling? they argue and fight all the time of course! their mutual friends are having a little get-together party to celebrate the end of a semester. what y/n and beomgyu don’t expect is to be paired up for an innocent little game of truth or dare.

fic under the cut >>>>>

“Y/N!! Hi, welcome!!” Kai said opening the front door of the apartment and letting you in. He hugged you as soon as you stepped inside the spacious apartment, you hugging him back tightly.

“Kai, my angel! I missed you during exams!” You said excitedly acting as if you hadn’t seen him in years when in reality it’s been about a week. Kai smiled brightly at you before leading you to the rest of the group. Beomgyu scoffed as soon as he saw you.

“Oh great the princess is here.” Beomgyu said sarcastically. You just scoffed at the nickname you once loved and rolled your eyes. Leave it to Beomgyu to piss you off so early into the night. You decided to not entertain his comment and chose to ignore him by not replying. This seemed to annoy Beomgyu.

“What’s got your panties in a twist princess?” Beomgyu let out, smirking like he just said the funniest thing in the world. You rolled your eyes again at that statement.

“Shut the hell up Beomgyu, I really don’t wanna hear it tonight.” You said flatly. The rest of the guys sigh at the fact this happens every time you all get together.

“Alright…guys let’s just play some games so you two don’t kill each other so early in the night.” Yeonjun said laughing at his joke. You and Beomgyu looked over at him nodding slowly, agreeing to stop…for now.

You were all sat in a circle, a bottle in the middle of the circle. You were sat between Kai and Soobin. Beomgyu unfortunately directly in front of you. You all started laughing as Kai spun the bottle, it landing on Yeonjun who sighed heavily knowing that Kai was up to no good if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

“Ooh Hyung…truth or dare?” Kai said to Yeonjun, everyone looking at Yeonjun to see what he would decide. Yeonjun stayed quiet for a second contemplating what he should decide. Finally going with a dare because ‘I’m not a loser’. Kai giggled mischievously at Yeonjun’s answer, Yeonjun sighing at Kai’s reaction.

“Wow, you’re brave hyung! I dare you to lick Soobin-Hyung's foot…with no sock on!” Kai let out laughing at Yeonjun’s disgusted face. Yeonjun stared at Kai with a glare before sighing and leaning towards Soobin, who had already taken the liberty of removing his sock and holding his foot out. Yeonjun got closer and hesitated before hurriedly licking the bottom of Soobin’s foot and flinging himself back quickly, overdramatically coughing. Yeonjun rushed to get water to rinse his mouth out, acting as if he had just ingested poison. When he got back and sat down, Kai was still laughing almost wheezing at this point. Yeonjun glared at him, telling him to just wait until it was his turn.

Yeonjun spun the bottle, the bottle seeming like it was never going to stop, before landing on Beomgyu. When Beomgyu saw that the bottle landed on him, one of his eyebrows rose surprised that it would land on him so quickly. Before Yeonjun could ask ‘truth or dare’ Beomgyu blurted out ‘dare’ so confidently. ‘Of course, Beomgyu wants to act so cool and cocky…’ You thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes at Beomgyu’s behavior, Beomgyu noticed you doing this and gave you a sneer.

“Alright, Mr. Confident, I dare you to go in a room with Y/N for 10 minutes, without killing each other.” Yeonjun said with an evil grin on his face. You whipped your head to Yeonjun real quick at his words, glaring at him. You began to protest but Yeonjun cut you off before you could get a word in.

“Ah ah ah Y/N! If you say no you also have to drink a shot…actually you both have to drink 3 shots.” Yours and Beomgyu’s eyes widened at that statement, not wanting to take 3 shots each when the game had only just begun. You and Beomgyu got up begrudgingly following Yeonjun to the bedroom. Yeonjun gestured you two into the room and you and Beomgyu walked into the room slowly. As soon as you two walked into the room, Yeonjun closed the door and you could hear him locking it and putting something against the door so you two couldn’t get out. Your eyes widened before you yelled out cursing at Yeonjun.

You turned around because Beomgyu was being suspiciously quiet. When you turned around you noticed Beomgyu already staring at you. You laughed humorously at the fact that Beomgyu still hasn’t said anything and was just staring you down. You felt goosebumps form at the intense stare he was giving you.

“Do you like what you see or something?” You asked smugly. Beomgyu smirked at that.

“Oh, I definitely do princess.” Beomgyu said just as smugly. You scoffed at that statement, kinda pissed off at what he said.

“Well if you weren’t such an asshole, I could say the same.” You said matter-of-factly. Beomgyu just laughed at that.

“So what you’re saying is that you think I’m attractive still?” Beomgyu said confidently. You glared at him annoyed. Beomgyu was just so infuriating.

“Beomgyu for the sake of my sanity, respectfully shut the hell up for once.” You let out, frustrated. This is why you couldn’t stand Beomgyu, he was always just so infuriating and cocky. It was one of the reasons you two broke up, he could never take things seriously and that was his downfall. You tried so hard to get him to see where you were coming from and he would just laugh it off, minimizing your feelings.

Beomgyu laughed at your words. Here he goes again not taking you seriously again. It stung just as much as it did the day you two broke up. It felt like he didn’t really care about your feelings and that hurt a lot.

“This is why we broke up Beomgyu! All you do is laugh and joke and never take things seriously…even when I pour out my feelings…” You said exasperated, tears of frustration starting to pool in your eyes.

“What? What do you mean by that?” Beomgyu asked with a look of confusion on his face. You sighed a deep sigh, the tears finally beginning to fall, so you turned away so he couldn’t see your hurt. Beomgyu let out another noise of confusion, wondering what was going on. He had always assumed you broke up because you were tired of him and had fallen out of love with him.

Beomgyu walked up to you, putting his hand on your shoulder and turning you around slowly, his face softening at the fact that you were crying. He stared at you for a second studying you, as your face was turned to the floor. Even crying, Beomgyu thought you were the most beautiful girl to ever exist. It broke his heart to see you crying like this.

“Y/N…what did you mean by not taking your emotions seriously? That’s the reason we broke up? I-I thought it was because you fell out of love with me…That’s why I acted that way, I was trying to protect myself…” Beomgyu said solemnly, his voice breaking at the end. He felt so stupid right now. You lifted your head and stared at him, you know being the one to study his face. You could see tears welling up in his eyes at the emotions he was feeling right now. Was this simply just a huge misunderstanding? You brought your hand up to his face, caressing it softly.

“Gyu…I could never not love you…you mean so much to me, even now. Even after all the fighting we have been through.” You said gently. Beomgyu closed his eyes, the tears finally falling freely down his face. Your heart breaking seeing Beomgyu cry…he never cried. Beomgyu opened his eyes again staring into your eyes, tears falling down both of your faces, the melancholy feeling in the room getting to you both. This was the most tender moment you two have shared in your whole time knowing each other.

You both continued to look into each other's eyes before you both started to lean in, your lips meeting in a soft kiss. You threw your arms around Gyu’s neck playing with his long hair, before softly grasping it in your hand pulling softly. Beomgyu let out a small moan at the feeling. You smiled into the kiss, he had always loved it when you would pull his hair. You took advantage of Beomgyu’s moan, slipping your tongue into his mouth, your tongues dancing around each other. Beomgyu brought his hands down to grip your waist tightly. You brought your hands down to his shirt and tugged on it, signally for him to take it off. He took the hint, breaking out of the kiss to pull his shirt off. You groaned at the sight of Beomgyu’s bare chest, dragging your nails up and down his chest. Beomgyu groaned at the feeling, you smirking at the guttural sound coming from deep within his chest.

You pushed Beomgyu down on the bed, climbing on top of him and straddling him. Beomgyu looked up at you with a lust-filled gaze, you smirking down at him. You began to grind your hips down onto Gyu’s, moaning out at the feeling of his bulge pressing into your core. You started to move your hips faster, the feeling could be described as euphoric.

“Y/N please…I need you…” Beomgyu let out, his voice whiney. You smiled down at him before you climbed off of him to pull your clothes off. As you were pulling off your clothes, Beomgyu eagerly pulled down his pants and boxers in one go, flinging them across the room. You chuckled at how excited he seemed. You climbed back on top of him, hovering over his erect member.

You grabbed his cock lining it with your entrance before sinking down slowly, you both groaning at the feeling. You began to move your hips back and forth, moans tumbling from your mouth uncontrollably. Beomgyu put his hands on your waist and began to help you bounce up and down on his cock at a rapid pace. Beomgyu groaned loudly at the feeling of you squeezing around him so tightly.

Suddenly Beomgyu sat up flipping you around and began to pound into you roughly, not being able to help himself, reveling in the feeling of your wet hot heat. You could feel your high fast approaching.

“Gyu! I’m gonna cum!” You gasped out feeling really close to the edge. Beomgyu nodded rapidly.

“Cum with me princess!” Beomgyu let out with a gasp. You nodded in agreement. Beomgyu brought his hand down to your clit rubbing it quickly, that was your downfall. You came instantly at the feeling, squeezing around Beomgyu tightly, Beomgyu following suit shooting his load into you, groaning loudly while doing so. Beomgyu pulled out, flopping down beside you pulling you to cuddle up into him.

“Beomgyu…how could you ever think that I don’t love you?” You asked him softly. Beomgyu sighed at the question. Contemplating how to word what he was going to say.

“I guess I just let my own insecurities get the best of me to protect myself from getting my heart broken. You mean the absolute world to me and I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you, the thought that you could find someone so much better than me was too much to handle, so I decided to behave the way I did. Which I know is not an excuse but I was immature.” Beomgyu told you honestly. You nodded understanding where he was coming from.

Before you could respond you heard the item in front of the door being moved. You and Gyu jumped up at the sound and then suddenly the door opened, light shining in through the hallway. Beomgyu hurried and pulled the covers up over you both to cover your naked bodies so that Yeonjun didn’t see you naked.

“Oh shit! Really?! In my bed?” Yeonjun let out exasperated. You both snickered at his tone. Yeonjun shook his head leaving the room cursing.

Things may have ended on a bad note a year ago, but maybe everything would end up being okay for Beomgyu finally said the words you wished he would say.

[lucianhuntress]

Day 25. Scaramouche x Reader: 92. “You can’t keep ignoring this.”

It’s a warm day in Sumeru city; cicadas chirp somewhere, lurking in the depths of the vegetation and flowers bloom, absorbing every ray of the golden light from the sun. Everyone has been preparing for the Sabzeruz festival to celebrate the young Archon’s birthday. 

Well, almost everyone.

Scaramouche sits outside while sipping tea at the Puspa Café, while avoiding —well, you. He couldn’t just stand how desperately you were asking for his help with the decorations at the Akademiya. Who do you even think he is? Scaramouche is not one for celebrations and he would rather keep to himself than run around with some stupid flower decorations or snacks. 

He doesn’t want to admit that you actually looked cute while holding a massive amount of flowers. He scoffs to himself in thought and takes another sip. The party should be left to those who actually enjoy it and he knows that should you pester him a bit longer, it would be hard for him to say no. 

The sounds of your steps catch him off guard, but he adamantly keeps ignoring you, even when you sit on an empty chair at his table. 

“Found you,” you chime cheerily, wearing a pink flower behind your ear. Seeing you being all cutesy in front of him like that vexes him greatly. 

“Congratulations, do you want a medal?” he sighs with his eyes closed.

A small pout tugs your lips and something stings inside of him, a feeling he used to be unfamiliar with, but after meeting you it has become nearly a habit. 

“I needed your help,” you tell him, a hint of gloom in your tone and he notices your shoulders slumping a few inches.

“And I remember telling you that I am not interested or are you that stupid that you can’t even understand anything I tell you?” he answers with a roll of his eyes. 

“You can’t keep ignoring this!” you tell him, clenching your fist in determination. 

Asking him to do anything is always such a challenge and this time isn’t any different; he looks at you in irritated confusion. “Why do you need me there? What can I do that no one else can?” He isn’t wrong to ask such questions and yes, he wasn’t actually needed there. 

Your heart aches every time you see him alone, brooding in silence while avoiding other people like plague. His words are often full of venom and you have grown a thick skin, while trying to get close to him, because you see the pain in his dejected eyes. 

“I needed you,” you exhale, “I still need you.”

Scaramouche squints in disbelief and turns to face you. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Except it’s not,” you reply after taking a deep breath, “I need you to help me.”

Those damn sparkling, hopeful eyes of yours that blink innocently as he tries to stare you down rather menacingly. How are you not repulsed by his presence, he does not know. He clicks his tongue in irritation.

“Fine.”

He should have chosen to go out of the city, because he knew denying you for much longer would be impossible and part of him feels oddly warm when you beam at him as he gets up. 

“But I’m not carrying you anywhere.”

You let out a giggle and catch a hint of red on his cheeks. He grumples something more in protest, but you’re feeling way too happy to let it bother you.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I could make one where it's Balwin's birthday and his beautiful wife is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom and he performs a belly dance for him in front of all the guests at the party and Balwin gets jealous and jealous and takes her to his rooms and tells him claim

♧ My Eyes Alone - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request. I think this was another one of the requests that got deleted in the first batch so thank you for sending it in again! Sorry about that 😭. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

The queen of Jerusalem always prided herself on modesty.

Prior to being wed to her husband, she was a dancer. A belly dancer to be exact. And while this art was more revealing than some would prefer, y/n always carried herself with a modest grace that was admirable to many.

Baldwin knew of her hobby and had no issue with it. He knew that despite it being more revealing than he would prefer, she enjoyed it and he didn't have the heart to take it away from her. He knew that while her beauty caused some eyes to wander in her direction, dancing made her happy. So he just had to deal with it.

Until one day.

--------------------

It was the afternoon of the king's birthday, and everyone in the castle had been celebrating all morning. Spirits were high and so was the amount of alcohol many had consumed.

It was planned that y/n and a few other women from her dance group were set to perform for the guests later in the day.

The women had gone to get ready, leaving the guests to prepare for the performance. When the group entered the courtyard, all eyes went their way.

Their beautiful jewelry sparkled in the sun, as did their soft, smooth skin that caught the attention of a few men who had a little too much to drink.

As the music started and the dance began, Baldwin felt a sting of jealousy permeate his body.

His wife looked absolutely stunning of course, but because of this she caught the attention of Guy and some other men. He watched them from his seat at the table: chuckling and pointing, objectifying and lusting.

Baldwin bit his tongue underneath the mask as he felt rage bubble inside of him at their disgusting, drunken behavior.

He tried his best to contain himself and not allow envy to consume him, but the jealousy was strong. Not just jealousy, but rage.

How dare they objectify his queen. Look at her as if she was an animal in a cage to be stared at.

This was more than he could handle.

But finally, the dance was over. As the women filled out, Baldwin followed them. Approaching his wife, he tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, grinning

“Baldwin darling, did you enjoy the performance?” she said cheerfully.

The king nodded quickly before speaking,

“come with me to our chambers, I need to speak with you” he said, taking her by the hand and quickly leading her away.

The smile faded from y/n’s face as she followed Baldwin up the stairs to their rooms. Her mind was racing. Had she done something wrong? Was he alright? Finally, they arrived.

Baldwin closed the door behind them,

“is everything alright Baldwin? What happened-” y/n was cut off by her husband wrapping her in a firm hug.

“I did not like how those men looked at you,” he said softly. The queen sighed and returned his embrace.

“Oh my love, I can assure you it's alright-” she started, only for Baldwin to cut her off again.

“No, it's not alright! I hate it when people look at you as if you are an object to be touched. I hate it so much” he sounded on the verge of tears.

Y/n sighed again and held him tightly.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry for letting that happen darling. I shouldn't have performed in such a large crowd” 

“But it's not your fault. You shouldn't be sorry, they are the ones who should be sorry. I just hate seeing them treat you like that” he said quietly.

The two embraced for a while longer, sharing words of adoration before the queen changed her clothes and they returned to the courtyard.

Y/n did not leave her husband's side for the remainder of the day, just as some extra reassurance.

The rest of the day ran well and the queen remained safe from the prying and vile eyes of drunkards, thanks to Baldwin's peircing glares at whoever so much as glanced in her direction.

Despite the circumstances, y/n felt butterflies in her stomach about the situation. She loved it when Baldwin was jealous. It wasn't often that he was, but it always made her feel safe and protected. 

It was nice to know that of all the men in the world who wanted her body, there was one man who wanted her heart.

[willowser]

now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to. 

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress. 

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought. 

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek. 

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon. 

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his  heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

[felixitate]

one's elixir | lmh (teaser)

✩ pairing: lee know x reader

✩ genre/au: angst, smut, fluff? acquaintances to lovers, academic mentor, fantasy, wizard!au

✩ rating/est. wc: 18+ | around 20-22k (damn?)

✩ synopsis: you’re a walking disaster. not just in Minho's eyes but for anyone in the academy so when he was asked to supervise you, he had to agree to ensure everyone’s safety. but is it worth the risk to involve himself in something that even you can't control?

a/n: happiest birthday to my first-ever bias in stray kids! he went on live when it struck midnight here so i'm just 😩 i know you've all been waiting for so long so here's a small snippet at least

— part of the Spellbound Secrets series

"did you poison your entire class?" he starts, looking at you dead in the eyes as he drops the worksheet of potion formulas on the desk table. you're taken aback, both from his question and the fact that he's in front of you right now asking that.

"what? where did you hear that?" you almost stuttered, feeling a bit offended but thankfully, you recovered instantly. receiving questions like this isn't new to you knowing how much of a troublemaker you are.

your brain is still processing that the Lee Minho is your designated mentor. depending on the mentee, students who are chosen are seniors and graduate students.

out of all the ones in your department, it had to be him.

someone you've admired from afar for years now.

the idea of Minho having heard rumours about you fuelled further embarrassment in you. from what his friends told you about him, he never pays attention to these things unlike them.

his assumption must’ve been the result of hearing more from your professors. they know how he's like which was probably why the alchemy department sent him as your mentor.

it would definitely be effective but why did it have to be him? is he really the perfect one to possibly straighten you or were they just running out of choices?

you remember it clearly, being chosen to lead an experiment at the beginning of your potions class because of your exemplary record in your other courses. turns out, you're quite the opposite and you didn't just disappoint your professor but also endangered everyone in your class.

"i believe you have an idea already"

it wasn't like you planned it. realizing that using the wrong ingredient and missing the prescribed portion was inevitable. you didn't want to put anyone in danger.

you wonder how much Minho knows.

refusing to spare him another look, you grab the worksheets to distract yourself. while doing so, you did notice the small quirk on the corner of his lips as he sat down when you briefly took a quick glance.

a mix of emotions is bubbling inside you but you at least recovered from the shock. embarrassment, however, is still on a process since you essentially ruined your crush's first impression of you.

however, there's a small happiness in you along with an excitement of Minho being your mentor. this is your chance to know him more than what his friends have told you about him. they gave you a heads up that made you a bit hesitant at first since Minho rejected many girls before. you have no idea how to interact with him and it might end in him only considering you as one of his juniors.

you can still pursue him though so that's why you'll try to behave for now.

"you don't even know me"

"i know enough" he counters, not sparing you a look as he opens another book.

"rumours don't equate to the real me"

"regardless, i only agreed to this because you're a hazard to everyone"

hearing that from someone you admire did sting a little but it's reasonable. he's just concerned for everyone's safety but you're kinda hurt that he'd think that way even if it's technically your fault.

minho could tell that what he said struck something in you cause you never bothered answering him.

"we'll have to set a learning plan for you" he starts, breaking the awkward silence that rules between you both.

"alright, let's get this started"

.

e/n: very long fics are not my forte that's why it's taking me so damn long to finish this one lol. add that @temptaetions and i had to re-outline/rewrite most of the fics (me mostly) since posting the series masterlist because of the extra stuff added during the fanmeeting (vcrs. etc.). thank you for your patience so far, we've been writing behind the scenes to finish them all up so we can release them back to back when the time comes :)

[connabeth]

i won’t let you choke (on the noose around your neck)

percabeth | canon | 10k

written with the lovely @silenab, thank you for indulging me, it’s been an honor. happy birthday percy, here’s the woman you love torturing herself mentally and physically, hope you appreciate it!

Time moves, unforgiving like the sea, relentless and indifferent, sweeping away the days with a rhythm that carries everyone forward, everyone but her. Her feet are anchored ankle-deep in the sand, fighting the tide urging her to move. But she remains rooted, caught in the undertow of a memory, a place where the world was a little simpler, or perhaps where the pain was less excruciating. It’s like she’s invisible, this time without the hat, a ghost watching as the tides of time erase the footprints of what once was while she stands there, watching people pass her through, an echo of the past.

Annabeth is left with a fickle ankle, immune to ambrosia and nectar, that seems to take pleasure in catching her off-guard, rendering her limb useless, the heat of humiliation spreading up her leg and to her cheeks like a wildfire. She’s angry. She’s so, so angry. The condemnation of being helpless, worthless, unable to do simple things herself, a burden to every poor soul unfortunate enough to come across her. To Percy, especially, once he finds out. She pushes that thought to the side. He can’t see her like this. She refuses to let him.

More so than a perfidious ankle haunted by phantom pains, she is missing her limbs entirely. Her backpack, brand-new, sits empty, devoid of that precious laptop she cherished more than most things, gifted to her by none other than Daedalus himself, home to secrets and technology so revolutionary that people would only be able to comprehend it fifty years from now. The faded blue Yankees cap, once a staple in her wardrobe, gifted to her by her mother, in what she’d believed to be a token of love and faith and favoritism, collects dust inside her nightstand drawer because she can’t bear to look at it without wanting to tear it to shreds.

And, most importantly…the cool press of metal that had burrowed a home against her hip for over a decade. Gifted to her by a boy who’s charming grin and cerulean eyes and conniving tongue had sounded, looked, and felt like home, with the promise that she would meet a much less tragic fate than its previous owner. A piece of metal that had had her back through everything, an extension of her arm, quick and sharp and lethal, like its wielder, the manifestation of the Great Prophecy itself, the underlying curse of betrayal and hope etched into the bronze hilt, the memory of someone she used to love living within it. And now it’s gone. Just like that. Strapped to her waist is a blade of cool ivory, much longer, also ridden with loss, almost as painful.

Annabeth knows the only part of herself that is left is Percy and she’d─she’d shattered that too. Dragged the poor lovesick fool into hell and made him a shell of himself, effectively ruining all that remains.

Her voice grows hoarse and her throat feels like drinking from the Phlegethon would be a mercy. She clutches at the unruly curls on her head, eyes squeezed shut, tugging, tugging, tugging, and the noise ringing in her ears is so, so loud. Her scalp screams in protest and she lets go, only to dig her nails into her palms and the flesh of her exposed thighs. Her fist and fingers tremble with the anguish of a thousand broken promises. She doesn’t know how long she stays like that, but her mind vaguely registers that it might be too long.

Annabeth opens her eyes with a stuttered breath and stares at the beautiful sanguine crescents littering her thighs, her tender brown skin so soft, so yielding to the deliberate press of her nails that made a home there, a landscape carved of contempt and penance. It doesn’t relieve the deep-seated ache in her chest but she doesn’t care. The sting of the lacerated skin doesn’t register in her mind and she finds herself wishing the blood would flow a little thinner, a little faster. For every ounce of blood Percy’s shed for her, wasted on her, she wants to bleed twofold. She wants to pay back her debt in flesh and blood, though she’s deeply aware that the damage she’s done to him is irreversible and no amount of rotten flesh, no amount of noxious blood could mend his broken parts back together and absolve her of her guilt.

read more on ao3

[10piecechickennuggy]

Happy Birthday, Captain - Law x Fem!Reader - Oneshot

DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Piece or the art featured above. This is a fan created work.

Y/n stared at the calendar, uncertainty wavering through her stomach and causing nervous bouts of nausea. In her lap sat a beautifully wrapped box, its yellow speckled paper adorned with a brightly colored bow. Trembling fingers toyed with the shiny ribbon, bending it slightly as a sigh fell from painted lips.

October sixth. The date mocked her from across the room, circled with enthusiasm and boasting in large penmanship “Captain’s Birthday!” 

It had taken several of her crewmates’ begging, along with her own, to convince their grumpy captain to agree to any sort of celebration. 

“It’s just another day. There’s no need to make a big fuss over my aging.” 

She could still hear his gruff voice as the scene replayed in her memory. After enough pestering, he’d finally relented to a small gathering in the Polar Tang’s mess hall accompanying tonight’s dinner. There would be a cake prepared by the ship’s cook, Jean Bart, and everyone intended to present a gift of some sort. But the sleep deprived captain had adamantly refused any additional festivities.

That was all right though. Being able to celebrate his birthday, no matter how grandiose or quiet, was all that mattered. She hoped that despite his initial refusal, she’d be able to make this day a special one for him.

“Ouch!” Stinging pain erupted from her fingertip that had been manipulating the ribbon. Looking down she saw crimson begin to pool lazily on the skin’s surface, threatening to overflow onto the pristine wrapping below.

Quickly, she stood and placed the box down before rushing out of her bedroom. Hurried footsteps carried her towards the sickbay, the injured finger having been thrust into her mouth instinctually. The taste of metal coated her tongue.

Entering the room, she immediately began searching for the first aid kit. Cabinets were opened and rummaged through one handed before a cough brought her attention to the desk tucked along the room’s far wall.

Turning with a sheepish expression, she smiled around the digit still held between her lips. Golden eyes framed in dark circles bore a quizzical look as her captain stood from his seat. A sigh of indignation escaped Law as tattooed hands removed a pair of glasses from atop his nose before placing them, folded neatly, beside the open medical textbook he’d been studying. 

“What have you done this time?” His tone was not unlike a parent’s - energy lacking and patience worn thin by far too many demands.

Her eyes dropped to the floor as the finger was removed from her mouth, fresh blood seeping from the open wound within seconds of air exposure. “Just a paper cut.” She held the injured digit up for him to inspect.

Law’s expression morphed from one of annoyance to a softer look. He moved past his subordinate swiftly, opening a cabinet she’d yet to search and withdrawing a package of bandages.

The Surgeon of Death. Dr. Heart Stealer. Trafalgar D. Water Law. Captain of the Heart Pirates. He went by many names, some more appealing than others. But to her, he was simply her beloved captain.

As he reached up once more to close the cabinet door, she felt her eyes wander south. Those spotted jeans were quite tight, leaving little to the imagination. 

“See something you like, Y/n-ya?”

Her gaze snapped up immediately, a deep blush overtaking her features. He’d caught her, and the look he wore only added to her embarrassment. She couldn’t decide which was more enticing; to wipe that smug smirk from his face or kiss it. Her brows furrowed in annoyance.

Of course she harbored romantic feelings for her captain. Who wouldn’t? The man was tall, dark, and handsome. A dedicated doctor, a skilled fighter, and a fearless leader. If only he wasn’t so painfully aware of his own charms. 

“Shut up.” She sounded like a child as she turned away from him, her arms crossed and cheeks puffed out in mock defiance. Law only chuckled as he took her hand in his, gently wrapping a bandage around her injured digit.

“Careful with the attitude.” A brief pause elapsed, the man seemingly mulling over his words. “I’d hate it if I had to punish you.” His voice betrayed his shit eating grin.

A playful gasp escaped the woman’s lips as she yanked her hand away, clutching the appendage close to her chest. “I am very well behaved, thank you.” 

“Is that right?” A devious glint formed in his eyes as he moved closer to his companion. When she’d backed into the wooden desk, muscular arms seized the opportunity to trap her against the large surface. Leaning in close, Law growled before speaking into her ear with a husky tone. “Then maybe I should reward you instead.”

What was happening? Her captain had never shown such interest in her before, nor had he ever made any type of advance on her. Was checking out his ass really all it took to break his stoic demeanor? 

“Umm, Captain?” She looked up at him with wide, doe eyes. Trying her best to look innocent, thick lashes fluttered beneath raised eyebrows. She’d hoped to confess her feelings during tonight’s birthday celebration, but this was completely unexpected.

As if being awoken from a trance, Law shook his head before backing away from his subordinate. “Sorry, Y/n-ya.” He rubbed the back of his neck while directing his gaze anywhere but at her. “I don't know what came over me. Please, just forget that anything happened.”

Was he hurt? Had she misread his intentions? No. He was obviously trying to make a move on her, and she’d chosen to react surprised instead of receptive. But more than that, was her captain being vulnerable with her right now? 

“Hey.” A gentle hand came to rest on the man’s arm, bringing his attention down to her smiling face. “I was just a little surprised.”

At her admission, Law’s eyes morphed from guilty to hopeful. Seeing this change, an idea popped into the woman’s mind. “Would you like one of your gifts a little early?”

Confusion crossed Law’s features for the briefest of moments before his companion lifted to her tiptoes and gently pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft, careful - as though she were afraid anything more would cause the man before her to crumble. She lingered for only a second or two, but the affection she expressed in that small span seeped into Law’s soul like a burning flame. Her retreat began before he could even think to kiss her back.

When she pulled away and allowed her feet to fall flat, there was a deep blush covering both their faces. The pair remained silent like, her hand still on his arm and their forms a breath away. Their gazes were locked, conveying a million emotions and sentiments without a single word. 

And then Law smiled.

Not his usual smirk. Not a smug grin. But a true, genuine smile.

“Happy Birthday, Captain.” Her words came as a timid whisper, afraid to break this pristine moment they’d created.

“Happy birthday, indeed.”

***

“For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! Which nobody can deny!” 

The Heart Pirates sang loudly, a chorus of off-key voices echoing throughout the Polar Tang’s metal halls. The mess hall had been decorated with banners and balloons, confetti strewn about and music playing in the background. A table had been set to one side, hosting a large pile of gifts and sweets, centered around a large cake reading “Happy Birthday!” In yellow and blue frosting.

The man in question currently sat before his entire crew, a conical hat strapped to his head and a scowl of disapproval painted across his face. His ears were ringing as a result of their awful singing. His stomach hurt from all the cake they’d made him eat. And the damned hat he’d been forced to wear was causing a massive headache. When would this annoying celebration end?

“Captain! You should open your presents now!” Bepo’s voice was full of enthusiasm as he brought a pile of wrapped gifts to his friend.

Law took the first package and thanked the polar bear before opening it. 

“That’s from me!” Shachi spoke through the crowd, his anticipation palpable.

When the bright red paper had been removed, Law held a small stuffed bear with the Heart Pirates’ jolly roger embroidered onto its chest. The bear looked similar to Bepo, though its white fur wasn’t nearly as soft as the real thing. 

“Thanks.” Law’s tone was flat as he sat the toy down and reached for another present.

Many of the crew had gotten him gifts that were surprisingly thoughtful. Ikkaku had gifted him new cleaning supplies for his sword. Penguin had gotten him a new lab coat with his name and Jolly roger printed across the breast pocket. Even the stuffed animal from Shachi was right up his alley - though he’d never admit aloud his love for all things soft and fuzzy. 

When it came time to open Bepo’s present, Law was met with a new hat. It looked similar to his old, circular brimmed one. though this new hat more closely resembled a baseball cap. The fabric was the same soft, speckled design he was fond of. Without a word, he removed his current headwear and replaced it.

“Me next! Me next!” Y/n came forward carrying her gift to Law. Bright yellow paper mimicked the submarine’s exterior and the spots splattered across it were reminiscent of his hat and jeans.

Law took the box gingerly, surprised when it was heavier than he’d anticipated. He raised an eyebrow in puzzled amusement before noticing the woman’s stance. 

She bore a wide smile, her eyes dancing with anticipation. As though her energy were too great for her body to contain, she hopped lightly from one foot to the other. The sound made a little tip tap with each step against the steel floor. 

Law couldn’t help but chuckle at her childlike excitement.

Placing the hefty gift onto the table, Law removed the wrapping and couldn’t believe what lay before him. There, sitting on the table in pristine condition sat the complete saga of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. The plastic shrink wrap still clung to each volume, catching the fluorescent lights in streaks of artificial shine.

“How-?” He was speechless. He hadn’t told anyone of his near obsession with the comics. Sure, every kid in the North Blue knew of the fictional battles between Sora and Germa 66. But they were in the Grand Line - most of his crew were from scattered parts of the world and wouldn’t even know the series existed.

His heart swelled at the amount of love and care his entire crew had shown him through their gifts.

“I saw you eyeing it a few islands ago.” She spoke with a smile on her face, knowing she’d struck gold.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Law spoke from his heart, the awe and appreciation he felt evident. He quickly rose and pulled her into a hug, leaving the entire crew stunned.

For the second time that day, the woman found herself uttering three words which she hoped conveyed her feelings as they reached her captain.

“Happy Birthday, Captain.”

[wanghyunjiin]

—red bottoms, lmh.

pairing — Dom!Minho x afab!reader

plot— Sometimes you just enjoy pissing him off.

word count - 1.3k

content - dirty talk, hair pulling

warnings — jealousy, degradation, suggestive content, 18+ ONLY

It didn’t take much to rile him up. 

When you did, you couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between your thighs. It made you press them as close together as possible, hoping that it would relieve the ache. 

You followed behind him silently as he unlocked the front door to your shared apartment, the tension lingering heavily in the air as he shrugged off his jacket and threw it over the back of the couch. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Maybe you took it a little too far?

You had accompanied him to a company fundraiser. It was a common occurrence for the two of you, but this time you were especially bored. Most of the guests were middle-aged men with wallets too thick and hairlines too thin to hold your attention. Except for one of Minho’s colleagues, and close friends. With his long dark hair and thick, pillowy lips, no one could deny Hwang Hyunjin was very handsome. Objectively, of course.

Minho being as protective and prone to jealousy as he was, was enraged as he watched you talk to Hyunjin. The younger man making you laugh at a joke that Minho couldn’t help but assume from knowing him couldn’t possibly have been that funny. And when you tossed your head back in laughter, with your arm finding its way to wrap around Hyunjin’s bicep, Minho felt a fire burning through his veins at the sight.

Were you trying to piss him off?

He had made up a poor excuse for why he needed to leave early, earning a few eyebrows raised but no one asked questions. Minho said his goodbyes to the few familiar faces in the ballroom before taking your hand from Hyunjin's arm pointedly and lacing his fingers through yours. Minho bid his younger friend a short, expressionless, goodbye and practically dragged you behind him as he rushed out of the hotel lobby. You struggled to maintain the pace in your red-bottom stilettos, they clicked loudly against the marble floor as you tried to keep up. A gift for your birthday last year.

So that led you to this moment. 

Minho finally turned around to look at you, the lack of emotion on his face making you nervous. You opened your mouth to apologize but he cut you off before you could say a word.

“Don’t.” 

He spat the word at you with a single shake of his head and you closed your mouth, heading his warning. You were never scared of Minho, there was nothing to be scared of, he was by no means dangerous when he was mad but you couldn’t help the guilt settling in your stomach. You loved him more than anything and you knew he did all he could and more to make sure he was providing for you and keeping you happy. And there you were at a charity event, flirting with one of his friends out of boredom when you were supposed to be keeping him company.

Looking down at your feet, you heard his footsteps moving towards you slowly. 

Minho stopped directly in front of you and lifted your chin with a single finger until you were looking directly into his eyes, you couldn’t ignore the fire burning in them and you felt your lace panties dampen.

‘Fuck, he’s so hot.’ The only thought that ran through your mind before his lips pressed against yours forcefully.

Even when he was being rough with you, his lips felt so soft and plush, you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan at the sensation. Minho’s fingers moved from your chin to card through your hair, his grip tightened as he bit your lower lip and tugged lightly before letting go.

“You think he’s funny? Hm? Putting your hands on him in front of me, and everyone, like that.. Were you trying to make me jealous?”

His glare intensified, and his fist in your hair only tightened, making a whimper escape your lips as it started to burn almost painfully. Almost. You attempted to shake your head, which proved difficult with his hold on you, tears stinging your eyes as you stuttered.

“N-no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean t-”

The fire in Minho's eyes died down slightly, replaced with amusement as cocked his head to the side and cut you off mid-sentence. 

“You didn’t mean to? You didn’t mean to put your hands all over him? You didn’t mean to act like a desperate little slut that just wanted to be fucked? Is that what you’re sorry for?”

Tongue tracing across his lower lip as he fought off a shallow laugh, feeding off of how needy you looked, Minho drank in the way your eyes practically begged for him to fuck you. He knew what you were doing, and if you thought he was going to play along with your little game? That’s exactly what he was going to do.

Minho saw you press your thighs together, and the way your eyes dilated. He knew you like the back of his hand, so he knew that the harsh accusations he was spitting at you were doing nothing but soaking through your panties and leaving you aching to be fucked.

Another soft whimper left your lips, which caused a short laugh to escape him. Minho's grip in your hair forced your head back, he licked a thick stripe up the column of your throat from your collarbone to your earlobe before biting down on the soft flesh lightly, not wanting to be too aggressive with you even though he knew that’s what you wanted.

Your knees started to buckle, the way he took complete control of you leaving you feeling weak. You gripped the front of his shirt to keep yourself upright, feeling the straps of the heels you were wearing start to dig into your ankles painfully.

“Go lay on the bed. Take off that dress. Leave your panties and the shoes on.” Minho commanded, whispering his commands directly into your ear. He opened his clenched fist and freed your locks from his grip, the burning pain in your scalp almost instantly fading. 

You hurried past your boyfriend and followed his commands, stripping off the tight red dress you were wearing and dropping it on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. 

It was one of his favourites, the off-the-shoulder neckline showing off your prominent collarbones, and the texture of the velvet felt so good under his fingertips. This definitely wasn’t the first time you had a night like this, especially when you wore this dress.

You lay on the bed, soaked panties and heels still on as you were told, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to appear. You couldn’t help the way your heart raced in anticipation, debating whether or not to grab the handcuffs from his bedside drawer. Nothing like a subtle hint to get what you want.

A moment later, your lover walked through the door, fingers swiftly unbuttoning his now creased shirt. 

“Oh, so you can behave... You just choose when to?” He asked rhetorically, noting you followed his instructions exactly. “Or are you behaving now because you think I’ll give you what you want... Is that it Princess?”

Even considering the circumstance, the pet name makes your heart flutter. You bit your lip softly, fighting the urge to retort with your own sly comment, knowing whatever you were planning on saying would just give him more reason to torment you.

Minho, now shirtless, climbs onto the bed. He crawls towards you, settling over you with his knees between your thighs, nudging your legs further apart, and licks his lips taking in the sight of the wet patch on your panties. The thin piece of, now-soaked, fabric was the only barrier between your boyfriend and the pleasure you so desperately craved.

Leaning down until his lips ghosted directly over yours, a smirk graced Minho’s lips as he whispered to you.

“You’re in for a long night Princess, I hope you weren’t expecting to cum anytime soon.”

[redrose10]

3 and 5 with namjoon! It can be Crack of you wantttt

I hope you like it!

#3 It’s three in the morning

#5 Why are you helping me?

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst, small injuries

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You loved your boyfriend. You really honestly did. He was a good man. He made you feel safe. He made you feel happy. He was sweet and kind and generous. He had dimples that made you fall in love all over again every time you saw them.

But at this very moment you you could kill him. It’s three in the morning and you’re standing outside your apartment building freezing while waiting for the fire department to give the okay for everyone to go back inside. Your neighbors are all glaring at the two of you and you know the only reason they haven’t said anything is because they know there will be a very nice apology gift basket on their doorsteps tomorrow.

“I’m really sorry.,” Namjoon said for the 100th time.

“It’s fine.”, you mumbled leaning into him to help block some of the wind.

**flashback a couple days ago**

“Hey I really want to make Jin a birthday cake this year.”, Namjoon spoke climbing into the bed next to you.

“Mmhm okay. We can call that bakery that did Yoongi’s. It looked really nice and tasted amazing.”

He shook his head, “No I want to make it for him. Like from scratch. He’s always doing so much for us and I just want to do something nice for him.”

“Joonie that’s a nice thought, but you nearly burned down the place making instant ramen a few weeks ago. We can just buy a nice cake. Jin will just appreciate the fact that you went out of your way to do that for him.”

You heard him sigh which meant he wasn’t done with this conversation but didn’t want to continue it at that moment. So you let it go too.

Two days later you walked into your kitchen finding your boyfriend covered head to toe in flour. Broken eggs scattered all over the floor. Pink colored frosting was splattered all over the white countertop which you secretly prayed wasn’t going to be permanently stained. As you got closer you noticed Namjoon’s hand wrapped in a bandage.

He noticed that you noticed and beat you to it by explaining, “I cut myself with a knife. I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

“Joon you’re making a cake. You don’t even need a knife for that.”

“I know. I was trying to cut the flour open and couldn’t find the scissors.”, he shyly responded.

You were trying to stay calm. You knew how badly he wanted to do this for his hyung. You also knew there was a stubborn part of him that wanted to prove he could do it.

But the state of your kitchen and the thought of him really hurting himself was making it difficult for you.

“Okay, just be careful. Please. And maybe use white frosting so nothing gets stained.”, you said giving him a kiss before going to take a shower.

After your shower you smelled something burning. In a panic you grabbed a towel and sprinted towards the kitchen bracing for the worst, but instead finding Namjoon sitting on the floor. Two burnt cakes beside him.

He looked like he was going to cry, “I thought I set the timer, but I guess I forgot. By the time I realized it was too late. Then I forgot to grab the pot holder and grabbed the hot pan right out of the oven and dropped the cakes on the floor.”

You looked at his hand noticing the blisters. Quickly you grabbed a bag of frozen carrots from the freezer and placed it on the burn feeling terrible as he winced a little.

“Namjoon this is why I said to just buy a cake. You can’t do this.”, you said a little harsher than you had meant to. You were just scared and upset that he had hurt himself.

He surprised you by suddenly pulling himself up dropping the bag of carrots on the floor.

“Where are you going?”, you asked.

“To shower and get ready for bed. We’ll just buy a cake in the morning. Since I can’t do it.”

You felt a sting from his words as you never meant to make him feel like that. Wanting to give him space you let him go off to the bedroom while you cleaned up.

Once back in bed he was already turned over facing away from you so you gently entered the bed next to him.

It was a few hours later when you were woken up by the fire alarm ringing throughout your home. You could also hear a string of curses coming from Namjoon in the kitchen. It didn’t take long for the fire department to show up and evacuate the building leaving you all standing out in the cold in the early morning.

**End Flashback**

The fire chief gave the all clear and everyone was allowed to go back into their homes. You and Namjoon were the last to walk inside. Once in the kitchen he silently got to work cleaning up. You could tell by the clench in his jaw that he was upset.

“Hey it’s okay. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”, you said placing a hand on his back.

“I just wanted to prove I could bake a cake on my own. I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand like this. I guess I really am incompetent.”, he sighed.

“Oh no no no Namjoon. You’re anything but incompetent. Everyone is good at something. Cooking may not be your best attribute but you are so amazing at so many things that you don’t even need it.”

He smiled before leaning down and giving you a kiss.

You stood and watched him for a while as he scrubbed at the dishes, mumbling to himself every once in a while.

So you decided to look up a simple vanilla cake recipe on your phone before gathering all the ingredients.

Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes and you smiled, “Come on. I’m no Gordon Ramsey, but I think I can manage to make a cake. Especially with you as my assistant.”

“Why are you helping me? You were against this from the start.”, he questioned.

“Because if it’s important to you then it’s important to me. And I want to help. I also don’t want to be on a first name basis with the fire chief so I think I better help this time.”

Namjoon came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, “Thank you Y/N.”

Playfully you smacked his hands away from you before showing him the recipe and getting to work creating not only a cake but also some lifelong memories.

[mactavishwritings]

Roxanne - moulin rouge inspired fic

Simon "ghost" Riley x cam girl! Reader

smut but no sex?, fluff, a teeniest bit of angst

this fic is my birthday present for myself. Happy birthday to me

“Roxanne... You don't have to put on that red light."

Simon's eyes were stinging as he waited for the 'LIVE' notification on your freecamcast.com channel. Simon didn't know why he spent his off time obsessively waiting for the fake attention of a woman who had no idea who he was until 4 months ago. He sighed desperately as the notification still hadn't come. You didn't have a typical routine; you were never consistent with when you were live.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, growing tired as it got later. He knew you lived within the same time zone as him because you would say it was the same time for you as it was for Simon. He was relatively new to your channel, you were one of the most popular camgirls on this site, consistently within the top 5 % of creators. He weirdly felt a sense of pride, that his favorite creator was so popular.

Finally, Simon's computer chimed, alerting Simon that you had finally gone live. He smiled softly as he clicked into your livestream. There were already a few thousand viewers on your stream and when he saw you, his heart fluttered. There you were; your hair pulled back into a thick ponytail with a light pink bow on top and the baby pink lingerie set he bought and sent to you. Told you he wanted you to wear it for your birthday and here you were, all dressed up for him. Simon was one of your top viewers and top tipper.

"Hi everyone!" Your soft voice came over Simon's speakers and he sighed happily. He instantly found relief in your voice and the deep centers of your endless eyes. He leaned forward, taking in the appearance of your body in the babydoll dress.

"Thank you all!" You giggled as the chat filled with birthday messages all flying past, everyone hoping to get their message noticed first. You giggled as you watched all the messages go by. You leaned back in your seat. You had a full setup, looking like a professional Twitch steamer setup. You had a soft ring light that cast a very romantic glow on your presence. It made you look ethereal and angelic, more so than you already were.

You hummed along to the soft music that played in the background of your stream. Your chin was tilted up, exposing your jawline and your neck. "How's everyone's night going? Are we having a great time?" You mused, sighing happily. Simon sent off a $50 tip, the first of many of that night. Your stream made a chime to notify you of the tip. You perked up and read the happy birthday message Simon attached to the tip. "Oh! Mr. Ghost! Thank you for the tip. I wore that outfit you got for my birthday, just for you." You beamed, sitting up to show off the lingerie that lay on your body. He sent a message to the chat, smiling as he typed out the message.

Mr. Ghost: looks good on u

You spun your chair once as if to twirl. Your giggles filled the room, making Simon chuckle with you. He felt as if you and him were the only ones on this call. You pushed your chair back and batted your eyelashes at the screen.

Mr. Ghost: so pretty. Glad u like it

You nodded happily, grinning ear to ear. "Of course I like it! How could l not? I just love everything you send me." You winked before moving on to greet the other viewers and Simon sunk back into his seat. He was excited for tonight's stream because he had a private, one-on-one chat with you after. Because he was one of your top tippers, he got special privileges that got him special benefits, like private chats and access to more actions like buying you outfits to wear on stream.

Simon zoned back and returned his focus to you. The stream took a drastic turn, you had shifted your hips back and popped them up, your feet now resting on the armrests of your pink gaming chair. Your eyes were wide and had a hint of innocence to them. Simon watched the screen intensely and his eyes followed the slow movements of your hands. Your hands traced down your thighs and your nails scratched up them. You sighed dramatically and tilted your head to the side, maintaining eye contact with the camera the whole time.

"It's just so sad I'm here all alone on my birthday, a little girl like me, all alone." You fluttered your lashes and the chat went insane as your hand tipped down towards your clothed center. The set Simon got you came with a pair of panties that barely covered your center. You whined, hand slipping over your center and Simon felt his mouth water. You sighed again, sitting up and you returned your feet to the floor. "Whatever is a girl like me to do!" You giggled again as your stream was flooded by anonymous men tipping you anywhere from $20 to $100, just to get a glimpse under your panties.

-

Simon's stomach was in knots. You had sent Simon the link to the private video calls so he could join. The only thing different about this call, the thing making him so nervous, was that he promised to finally get on camera for you to see, just for your birthday. He readjusted his hair one last time before joining the call.

"Mr. Ghost! I was starting to worry that you were gonna ghost me." Your giggle was the first thing he heard and it immediately made him relax. "I'd never do that to you. You know that." He answered you simply and took in your appearance. You had cleaned up from the stream, fixed your hair, and put away all your toys. You were still in your lingerie and Simon smiled. "You look cute."

"Thank you, Mr. Ghostie! A cute guy dressed me." You winked at the camera and Simon chuckled. "Well, he has good taste. Wanna give me a twirl, love?" Simon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Your face lit up and you nodded, standing up and shuffling to get your whole body into frame. He felt himself laugh at your fluffy, white socks. You did a slow spin, showing off the whole outfit. "Very nice…I like it."

"Thank you…Now, I think you have something to show me." You sat back down, resting your elbows on the desk, your chin resting on your hands. "Yeah…right." Simon nervously rubbed his neck and he watched your eyebrows knit together, a worried expression appearing. "You don't have to! I'm not pressuring you." Simon felt his heart flutter and he leaned forward to turn his camera on. Like you, Simon had a semi-profession streamer set up, being big on PC games while on his leave.

He pushed his curls back and smiled as the camera clicked on. "Oh thank fuck. I was hoping you were secretly hot and not some old fuck." You immediately sat up and scootched up to the desk to stare closely at him. He turned his chin in each direction to show off his face to you. You sat back in your seat with the biggest smile on your face. "Happy birthday." Simon smiled back and you pushed yourself up to sit cris-cros on your gaming seat. "Will you do me a favor tonight?" Simon asked, watching you shift around. "Tell me." You twirled a hair on your finger.

"Want you relaxed. Go change. Still gonna make sure you're taken of, but not tonight, angel." He made sure to make pointed eye contact and you had a genuine smile on your face. "Thank you. I didn't want to work on my birthday." You stood up and you left the frame. Simon took a deep breath and adjusted his headphones. He didn't know why he requested this, but something just told him to. He couldn't help but feel like you treated him differently than your other viewers.

You two had done a couple of sessions like this, where he asked for the non-performer you. Simon loved those sessions because it made it feel real. Like he wasn't paying you for friendship, for just a sense of intimacy. You soon came back into the frame, dressed in a light pink hoodie and sweatpant set. Your hood was pulled up on your head and you had slippers on your feet.

"Hey, pretty girl." Simon smiled as you placed your headphones on your head and then your hoodie over the headphones. "Hey." Your soft voice made Simon nearly melt. "Thank you, ghostie." You giggled and Simon leaned back in his chair, finally able to relax. "Simon. I'm Simon." He felt his chest pounding as your eyes softened, testing the name on your lips. "Okay, Simon." You hummed and your eyes scanned a screen off to the side. "Did you wanna just talk or watch a movie, or something?" Simon just shook his head. "It's your birthday. Pick."

"Okay! I have questions about you." You sat up and clicked a couple of things on your end before turning back towards Simon. "Okay, hit me."

The two of you went back and forth for a few hours and Simon was able to determine a few things. You two lived in the same area, pretty close actually. You recently got a kitten, and he told you a little about his job. You both slowly opened up to each other, progressively sharing more and more personal details.

It was nearing 2 am and the both of you were talking like Simon wasn't paying you. Your feet were resting up on your chair and your hoodie was slowly falling off your shoulder. You sighed and looked over towards the window in your streaming room. "Thanks for hanging out with me on my birthday. Would've spent it alone." You smiled and Simon nodded, happy to make you happy. "Of course. I would do this every night if I could." Simon said, cautious for your reaction.

You looked away for a moment before taking a deep breath. "If I…gave you my number…Do you promise me you won't use it for a free session?" Your voice had a desperate tone to it, Simon felt his heart shatter. He nodded, staring at you with a concerned look written all over his face. "I swear on my life." Simon couldn't breathe, your eyes searched his for anything to prove different.

-

His addiction to you got worse. He swore that he wasn't going to be one of those people who couldn't put their phone down, but here he was, desperately waiting for your next message. His day practically revolved around you, more so than it already did. He felt so much closer to you than anyone else who watched your streams. He got a more personal look at you, to see who you were beyond your body.

Simon was lying in bed, phone next to him open to your messages. You weren't streaming that night due to an injury that you didn't say more about and it was driving him nuts not to know about. His eyes flicked back and forth between your messages and the show that was passing time between the next text. Simon was on a one-month leave and was happy to finally have time to relax.

Simon felt a constant buzzing and his eyes whipped down to his phone. Your caller ID was staring back at him and his mind went silent. You never called him out of the blue, always asking before if it was okay.

"(Y/N)? You alright?" Simon sat forward, nervously shifting his weight. "Um…yeah. I'm okay." Your voice gave you away, shaking, and the sniffles you tried to hide came through. "You're lying to me." Simon tried his best to not sound freaked out, trying to sound confident to help you. "No, I'm not okay. I got kicked out of my apartment. Leasing manager found out what I do and ended my lease."

-

Simon felt like he was going to puke. You gave Simon your number 2 months ago and you trusted him with your life. The night before, you called him when you needed support. You called him, explaining that you had been forced out of your home and didn't know what to do. He talked you through the fear and got you placed in a hotel for the night. He didn't know what came over him, his suspicions being confirmed that you lived in the same town as him.

Once you got settled in the hotel, you called Simon back to let him know that you made it to the hotel. He wanted you to have a moment to decompress before anything else happened. He made you promise that you would call you in the morning and he would help you figure out the next steps.

He was already awake when you called the next morning. You sounded better, having a night to think everything over. "You feeling okay?" Simon's voice held a softness that he never heard from himself before. "Yeah, I'm just hungry." You giggled tiredly and sighed. "I'll send you breakfast, what do you want?" Simon offered like it was nothing. "How about you and I go to breakfast instead?" Simon felt his stomach dance and he chuckled. "I would love to. Give me 5 and I'll come grab you. If you bring a wallet, I'm not coming."

You were so much prettier in person. You smelled even better than Simon imagined and your smile was so bright. Simon pulled up in front of you at the hotel and rolled down the window. "Get in, doll." You got in the car and put your favorite breakfast spot in the GPS.

Simon was trying his best to control his nerves, feeling his hands shake like he was back in basic training. He occasionally looked over at you, just to make sure that you were real. At breakfast, he could barely contain his smile. Your humor matched his perfectly and he never wanted you to leave his sight. "If I offered for you to move in with me until you get your footing, would it ruin everything?" Simon asked you and your eyes softened, leaning forward. "Never."

-

Simon watched your stream from the other room but heard everything. He watched the chat, messages flying by as you put on your performance. You made him promise you that he wouldn't donate that night since he was letting you stay with him. He did slip a $50 in your purse that afternoon. He listened to the soft sounds of your moans, knowing the stream was coming to an end soon.

As soon as you came, you giggled and sat back in your chair to do your sign-off. Simon shifted in his seat as you fake-flirted with the other men in your chat, feeling a sudden urge of jealousy. He didn't like the attention you were giving away and that he couldn't receive any himself until after you finished with the others. When you got off and cleaned up, you exited the room with a bashful look on your face. and nervously sat down next to him. Simon smoothed your hair and looked over your face.

"How much?" He whispered, not wanting to say it out loud, not wanting to completely ruin everything he spent so long to build. "How much what?" You looked at him confused, fidgeting with your manicured nails. "How much for you to stop camming? I'll pay anything…" He ran his hand over your hair and your shoulders dropped and he panicked.

"I can't keep watching you show off to other men. I need to keep you for myself. Please (Y/N)…You don't have to go live anymore…Let me take care of you. Let me make you mine." Simon finished his sentence with a deep breath and waited for your response. He couldn't take the silence as everything processed in your mind. He opened his mouth to speak again when you surged forward.

Your lips connected with his and your hands wrapped around his neck. You sat up on your knees and pushed yourself against his chest. Simon took a moment to catch himself before his hands made their way to your hips, kissing you back with a desperation that made him embarrassed. He pulled you onto his lap and pulled you closer. "Simon…" You gasped and he immediately needed more as he squeezed your hips. "Stay with me." He begged and you nodded.

"Always."