#he only focuses on being petty clearly

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Okay, okay, okay, but you wanna know the biggest fuck up of the Trickster???? Showing up to Sarah Jane's funeral (petty bitch always) and trying to do evil shit there with his servants, only to get his ass handed to him by all of Sarah Jane's kids (bar Maria who missed her flight with Alan and had to zoom call basically) and members of UNIT like Kate and former companions like the Chesterton's, Ace, Martha and Jack and shrunk to the size of a doll and locked in a treasure chest that proceeds to go into the Atlantic ocean. And if it wasn't already embarrassing for him: it only took everyone at the funeral TEN minutes to do that to him, aka the shortest defeat yet he's had. Sutekh and the other gods must have had a field day making fun of him for this one.

[hanrinz]

YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HEART . . . ! blue lock men are all a loser clingy and desperate for your attention

✦°．feat : isagi yoichi, rin itoshi & nagi seishiro

✦°．notes. f! reader. fluff. ooc characters. so sorry for this and for not posting anything lately </3 i kinda went overboard with isagi lol.

RIN ITOSHI

he would literally throw hands at anyone if you don't stop talking to your phone right now. it's been exactly thirty-four minutes since you have chosen to talk to your old friend over him, your boyfriend—who clearly needs your undying love and attention.

(and yes he's been counting)

you were sitting in the living room, animatedly chatting with whoever lukewarm piece of shit you were talking to. laughing and smiling about something god knows what.

and he's checking on his phone, counting down the minutes and seconds passing by as you continue babbling on and on your old friend. he's now starting to hate this friend of yours. six more minutes and he gets you all to himself and he was selfish—always been and never changing—he wants you to just be beside him right now, he didn't just took off a day from his work just to have you taken away by someone else.

he decided six minutes was too long, why can't he have you now? without any second left to waste, he made his way to the couch, standing tall and glaring menacingly at your phone, as if it would melt away from your hands.

your eyes are now on him, you grace him with a much more radiant smile, with your eyes softly conveying 'you need anything?'

yeah, he definitely needs something. he needs you to hang up on your friend and spend time with him.

you noticed the look on his eyes and it made you laugh a little from his childish acts, jealousy does look kind of attractive on your boyfriend.

your little sudden chuckle had made the other side of the phone to ask you what was so funny? you shake your head as if he could see what you were doing, the conversation had turned dull and truly you only stayed for a couple more minutes out of courtesy, but you were dying to get away from him and just be with your beloved boyfriend.

rin couldn't take this long stupid call any longer—and as much as it was petty and silly, his patience has long been gone—he takes a seat beside you, the cushion dipping from his weight his arm coming round at the back of the couch as his other one takes the device out of your hands grunting out a, “she's busy, call her next time.” and ending the call right away, leaving no room for protest.

“rin-!” you whine, you look at him with disbelief following wuth a laugh as you type out a small apology to your old friend. tossing your phone on your side table not really waiting for a reply back.

not that you don't feel bad or anything, but you were thankful that the call had finally ended.

“you were taking too long,” he grumbled while he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. “want you all to myself” he muttered on your skin, placing dot kisses along the crevices of your shoulders.

your arms now coming up to his neck as you play with the back of his hair caressing it the way he likes.

“stupid, 'm all yours.”

ISAGI YOICHI

holding your hands wasn't enough for him, well at least this very right moment. why aren't you focusing your eyes on him? is the person beside you that important? more important than him? he's sure not. just someone who wants your attention.

you were just too nice, too good for anything in this world. you were too good for him if he was being honest, someone who was way out of his league, he thinks. but, isagi yoichi is not a coward. he doesn't wait for anything or anyone and when he sets his eyes on something, he makes sure he gets it.

he tried being polite and patient with the person beside you. he really did.

but it was no use, not even the repeated mantra of “play nice” that he keeps saying on his head didn't help with the bubbling feeling welling up on his chest. it doesn't help that he notices the way the guy kept sitting closer to you and the way his eyes scans your body every passing second.

he hates it so much.

your boyfriend has never been one for violence, but he can make an exception right now. he doesn't notice the way his hands have tightened its grip with yours. catching your attention now from the sudden discomfort it causes you, breaking away from the conversation you were having, you looked at isagi with concern.

“yoichi, is everything okay?” you called out to him. he snaps away from his thoughts, replacing his hardened expression with a small smile in hopes of trying not to worry you.

“don't worry 'bout me, pretty,” he smiles, like he didn't just have any intentions of landing a punch to the guy you were talking to.

“you sure?” he only nods at your question. loosening the grip he has on your hands, but still firm as ever.

he knows he has to leave soon for the game and the thought of leaving you with this guy alone makes him go crazy. don't get him wrong, of course he trusts you with all of his heart.

the problem was the trash beside you, though he was more than willing to show how much he deserves your attention more.

“jus’ keep your eyes on me, yeah?” was all he says to you before he leaves.

the match starts, with isagi more than determined to score the first goal, maneuvering the ball with precision, getting behind the players and kicking with high accuracy, isagi scores the first kill.

he didn't care for the crowds uproar, nor the signal sound of the goal he just scored, not even the commentators voices, because what he needs to know is if you were looking at him. searching for your face at the sea of people in the vip section, your eyes meet. his heart kicks into overdrive, pride welling up on his chest as he returns the smile you wore on your face.

the guy beside you was left forgotten, he didn't fail to shoot him a look of abhorrent, secretly in the middle of the match.

and the team wasn't oblivious to the striker's jealousy, they saw it all, isagi couldn't give a damn if this was going to be used against him.

he won. isagi yoichi, the heart of blue lock won another match, dominating the game with fierce play. all he wanted to do was to come to you and have you all night to himself.

“isagi, is there a particular reason for your amazing play today?”

“isagi, how do you feel about today's match?”

“just one moment of your time, isagi!”

he ignores all the noise of the press, shooting up a tired look to rin hoping that the captain would handle all the troublesome questions. he didn't wait for an answer, already trudging back to the locker room.

and there you were waiting for him, all pretty and nice. he smiles to himself as he calls out for you.

raising your eyes in his direction, as you run up to him with a big smile “yoichi!”

he would really like to hug you right now, if not for the dripping sweat of his jersey. and he knows how much you don't like it. he settles for holding your hands instead, but this time your eyes were on him. not on that guy, not any of his teammates, not on anyone, but him.

he places a small tender kiss in your hands, with a tired grin on his face, a little drunk over you.

“was i good?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him.

and you wonder what has prompted this question by your boyfriend, but you don't dwell on it as much when he looks at you like a lovesick puppy.

“the very best, yoichi.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

a big baby who's stuck in a 6ft striker's body. why would you choose some little kid over him? don't you see he's so much better?

“what a bother,” he grumbles, clearly annoyed with the little kid who's been taking up your time in the arcade. he stands lazily by the side, seeing you helping a little kid who seems to be having a hard time winning in a game.

it all started when the two of you had planned out a day for a date, weeks of not being able to be together because of his game overseas.

and now that he gets the time to have you, a little pesky child just managed to snatch you away from his hands. a big pout was residing on his face, clearly he wasn't going to wait for you to come back to him.

arguably, he was being the child in this situation, giving sharp glares at the back of the head of the kid.

poor kid, who just wants to win a little plushie.

and what adds into his sour mood is when you tell him to go play some games to keep him busy while you help the small child.

you really expect him to go away from you and play all by himself? no way. you probably didn't get the notion that he needs you, when he plays all these stupid games. now he stands close by the claw machine, his arm folded on his chest, sighing loudly every minute, impatiently waiting for you.

you were terrible.

very horrible at claw machines, it comes to the point you have almost consumed half of your coins that were supposed to be for you and nagi. you really tried your best, feeling bad for the kid who asked you to help him get a gift for his little sister.

only left with frustrated sighs and disappointment, you turn to your sulking boyfriend by the side, who seems to light up from his sullen expression when you look at him. you flashed him a smile that looks a little strange, not the same ones that keeps his heart beating up and down or makes his ears aflare with redness.

no, you were asking for something. your eyes gesture the claw machine that you're struggling with, you didn't even have to beg, nagi has always been the one to fold for your wishes and bidding.

he was quick to get by your side and play on the controls, if getting this stupid plush penguin was to win you back he'll gladly get ten more of it.

and with just a few calculated flicks and timed clicks, he won. like he always seem to, when he's all fired up and determined.

“easy,” he muttered, as he drapes himself over you engulfing you in a warm embrace, as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo, placing a kiss in your hair in the process.

you laugh at him, letting yourself melt into his bear hug, your hands coming up to caress his snowy hair, “you still down for more, genius?”

“duh.”

you might have returned home with empty pockets and content hearts that day.

◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated! is it obvious i'm crazy for isagi?

[akutasoda]

"i think i was born wanting more, i think i was born missing you"

--he always brushed you off, pushing you further and further to keep you out of the way. yet when he sees you with someone else, he lets the bitter jealousy get the best of him - and for the first time, he thinks with his heart, not his brain. but it's too late.

--warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, angst no comfort, one-sided(?) pining, maybe ooc? wc - 1.6k

--a/n: rghhh ratio. i have no clue how to write for this man.

the intelligentsia guild. a branch of the IPC that focused on it's praised academics.

distinguished scholars worked alongside the up and comings, building their reputations to start a proper career in their respective fields. it was no surprise that the guild was full of all kinds of people from every different walk of life imaginable. ratio was one of such.

although a key difference between him and the rest of his colleagues was that this was his second choice. the doctor always dreamed of being acknowledged by nous - to feel their piercing gaze and know that in their view, he was worthy of their recognition. he wanted to be a member of ths genius society, the only way was to has that recognition, a one way ticket into the society.

but he wasn't selfish. ratio believed that everyone deserved knowledge, he spread his word through his lectures and publications - ensuring that others had the capacity to be something other than half-witted. he was prideful in his knowledge, but not to the extent to be considered arrogant. not enough to be recognised - some may disagree but even ratio couldn't help but be slightly arrogant or impatient around those that couldn't comprehend him.

he wasn't a scholar that worked for petty pride, and so nous wouldn't even spare him one glance. blocked from joining the genius society, ratio turned to the next best thing. the intelligentsia guild. an organisation that's entry requirement wasn't the acknowledgement of an aeon. accepting the second best was a constant reminder to him, everyday when he arrived at the guild, he would be reminded of his failure.

it would have to do however. his goals didn't align with that of the aeon he desperately craved the attention of, sooner or later ratio would have to come to terms with this.

but is holding on easier than letting go?

---✩

you and veritas were colleagues.

he was your first ever research partner at the guild - you don't think the looks of pity on your other colleagues faces when it was announced that you and ratio would be working together. surely this “dr ratio” wasn't that bad?

well in some way you'd been right. ratio clearly lived up to his prestigious reputation but very quickly you learnt just why most people preferred to not work with him. he didn't exactly want to work with anyone there anyway, but the guild's main leaders were fed up with him refusing.

to his credit, ratio was incredibly credible and pulled his weight with the research. it was less surprising that the project was practically completed in no time than the fact that you and ratio were compatible research partners.

they still felt pity toward you, the likelihood being that you were now the fallback for ratio's research partner - a fate that they wouldn't wish upon you.

the only issue with ratio was that he could be rather stuck in his ways. most often he believed that he was the correct one, even if you reached the same conclusion but through your own credited means, he would strongly insist that his way was superior.

sure there were other minor things that could make the scholar rather unbearable to work with but he always made results. that you could respect, but you did have to question if he could do so while still retaining a shred of decency to his colleagues - especially you as his main research partner.

gradually, over time spent mainly as his research partner, you became “close” with ratio. compared to hw he treated other colleagues, you looked like his closest friend. but to him, that couldn't be further from the truth.

in your eyes, he was something slightly closer than a simple colleague. the amount of time you spent with him seemed to justify such an assumption. however, ratio wasn't as chummy. he saw you as a simple colleague, albeit more intelligent than the rest of them, but a colleague nonetheless - a favorite at a stretch.

although it couldn't go unnoticed to both the two of you and other intelligentsia guild members, that you both started naturally drifting toward one another. noticeably more you than him, but curiously he never pushed you away.

mainly it was you talking to him while he worked or focused on whatever else captured his. at first you never minded, instead finding his company somewhat peaceful. but his lack of actual engagement made you feel slightly insecure about always hanging around him.

ratio barely acknowledged you when you were around. eventually you started figuring that he didn't want you around, that you were only inconveniencing him but he was too polite to tell you that directly. his blunt words and seeming lack of genuine interest convinced you so - and not so long after, you stopped talking to him, returning back to a strictly research partner relationship.

it didn't take him long to realize the distance you quickly put between the two of you. ratio wanted to know why. he didn't understand why you suddenly became so absent. but he wouldn't ask. his natural pride wouldn't let him, he was sure enough that it was temporary - perhaps you had become busy and had no spare time, even if it wasn't he was sure you'd come back to him eventually.

the doctor couldn't comprehend the fact that he “cared” for you. that all that time spent as research partners had led to him developing somewhat of a bond with you - it'd never happened before, so why now? and why of all people, was it you?

a newfound realization occurred to him. your distance gave him time to think, time to realize just how much you affected him. and he didn't like it.

to ratio, he didn't understand why he felt that way around you. you shouldn't have been any more than a colleague and yet you were becoming more to him. that was a weaknesses. he despised the fact that his brain was betraying him. forcing him to think of you and it made him stop. why did you make him feel this way?

naturally, because of the new distance between the two of you, you grew apart. becoming more like colleagues again rather than close acquaintances. at first, ratio thought it was for the best. you were meant to be a colleague, nothing more.

so why was he longing for your presence?

why did he perk up when he saw you walking toward him just to feel deflated and jealous when you walked straight past him to someone else?

ratio found himself always looking for you in a crowd, just to snap himself out of it when he realized what he was doing. what was wrong with him? the doctor cursed his brain for thinking about you constantly - this wasn't like him, he needed to snap out of it.

but he couldn't. day in and day out, the smallest convenience brought his thoughts back to you and he abhorred it. maybe he should've fought more to stop being assigned a research partner, if he did, you wouldn't be a problem for him.

ratio carried on living in his state of denial, still completely confident that you would return to him at some point and everything would go back to normal. however, the longer he waited the more you practically infected his thoughts.

but he wasn't willing to come to terms with his feelings. it was a useless endeavor to try and comprehend such simple chemical signals in the brain, nothing more. they would go away eventually. ratio just needed to grasp ahold of his brain again. these feelings were only fleeting.

afterall, ratio didn't love you. he didn't even see you as anything more than a colleague. but why did he wish he could?

---✩

ratio paced past a group of guild members but slowed when he picked out your name among their hushed whispers and giggles. one member caught how the doctor slowed and smiled at him.

“i didn't peg you for a gossip enjoyer dr.ratio” his colleague almost giggled

ratio sighed and shook his head, ready to pick up his pace again and leave - why should he care about what your up to anyway. or that was his plan until another member of the gossip group urged him to listen which, he did, his curiosity getting the better of him.

they explained how only moments ago one of your colleagues confessed their love to you - to which you claimed to reciprocate. ratio didn't bother hearing the rest, instead opting to hurry over to the location of the confession with more urgency than ever.

he got there just in time to see you two together.

bitter jealousy bubbled to the front of his mind. it was an ugly emotion that only served to taunt his mistake. it made him ball his fist, nails digging into his palms and a twinge of disgust graced his features. ratio caught himself however, dropping his fists, shoulders slumping and letting his features twist into a sorrowful pain.

he stared almost slack jawed as you walked further away, hand in hand with someone that wasn't him.

and for the first time, ratio felt stupid.

rest of the "series"

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

[cloudcountry]

auburn!!! i’m so glad that over these five years (half a decade wow 🤑) your work and most importantly your amazing personality has grown to receive so much recognition and love. i’m proud of you and i’m glad we’ve known each other for so long 🫶🏽. i hope your work continues to grow and you continue to do amazing things and be generally pretty cool. okay thats too much sappiness bleggh poop fart shit fuck ass ☝🏽

erm anyways i would like the chocolate swirl bread slices with brown sugar bubble tea in the special 3k event cup with cat cap… rubs hands together like fly…

would also be cool if the reader was FTM and/or was not-so-subtlety avoiding leona for any reason

DANIEL YOU BUTT THATS THE SWEETEST THING YOUVE SAID TO ME IN FIVE YEARS AND YOU END IT WITH POOP FART SHIT FUCK ASS????? ANYWAYS this almost made me cry what the fuck i feel like a baby bird leaving the nest even though im older than you. i cant believe we're like adults now. what happened to being weird ass teenagers on quotev dot com. i cant say i miss that era though but i do miss kaomoji IDK WHERE HALF THE FRIEND GROUP IS LMAO anyways thank you for being my friend mwah you are a real one you have seen me at my worst and stuck with it IDK HOW YOU DID THAT anyways your lion man

an order of romantic angst with leona kingscholar!

Leona watches your back as emotions he would much rather not acknowledge fester and boil in his chest. His tail flicks, his ears twitch, and it’s obvious to everyone around him that he is exceedingly annoyed.

That’s not the shocking part, however.

It’s the fact that he’s annoyed with you, the one boy in this whole school he never should have felt that way towards.

Leona wouldn’t be so annoyed in the first place if it wasn’t for the fact that you’d been inexplicably ignoring him for the past few weeks. As petty as always, Leona was sure he could outlast you, ignoring you in much the same way. He was good at being nonchalant, at taking it easy even though his affection shifted to bitter resentment.

Could he really call you someone close to him if he’s starting to genuine dislike you?

Nah, it’s not like he should have expected anything in the first place. He turns on his heel and walks off in the opposite direct of you, tail flicking lazily behind him. If you don’t want him anymore, that’s fine. If he’s not your number one anymore, he’ll just grin and bear it, bear like he always has and always will.

He thought he had something just for himself. How naive could he be?

Leona scowls, digging his hands into his pockets. If he sees everyone else in the hallway giving him a wide berth he doesn’t show it, his vision laser focused on Savanclaw’s dorm, his room, his bed, where he can sleep and ignore his reality for a little while longer.

The reality that you were so clearly avoiding him, the reality that you probably didn’t want him anymore, the reality that he was finally number one to someone and now he wasn’t.

Leona was once again second, but when there were only two people in a competition, second was the same as dead last.

[kunasthiast]

Broken Sinks

Petty arguments, silent treatment, and a broken sink. What did happen to you and Sukuna?

a/n: this can be a stand-alone fic bUTTT actually this is in the same universe of – Looting – hshdadhs this is when reader & Sukuna were still in their university days, before they got married

hope you enjoy this one ;) i got carried away with this au hhsdhasd

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut, Boyfriend AU, Gamer AU, University AU Word Count: 2,815 All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Well, the bathroom sink is definitely broken. 

Upon realization, both you and your boyfriend couldn’t help but burst out laughing, quickly fleeing the scene of the “crime” and escaping back into the thumping bass and music of the party. You both went to the kitchen to get some punch to cool off yourselves.

“What the fuck happened to my sink?!” Yup, that’s the unmistakable voice of Gojo Satoru echoing from upstairs, his tone clearly a mixture of confusion and frustration.

With a knowing glance exchanged between you and your pink-haired boyfriend, you couldn’t contain your laughter, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle as you continued sipping on your punch.

But, how did it come to this? To the broken sink of Satoru?

Let’s just say it all began with a small argument between you and Sukuna.

—

“Brat, you’re pissing me off. Talk to me.” Sukuna complained as you continue to give him the silent treatment for the past 2-3 days. See, you weren’t even sure when you had started withholding your words.

Rolling your eyes, you continued reading your book, seated at the university courtyard. Still ignoring him. Sukuna, your ever-so-loving boyfriend, didn’t save you in a game you were both playing. 

Yes, you are petty like that.

—

Flashback to 2 days ago…

He told you whilst playing with his phone, “Relax, babe, I’ll save you once I kill this fucker.”

“Any time now, I’ve died over three times already!” You retorted with a sigh and patience running thin, only to glance at the game's map and see Sukuna's character on the other side, saving another teammate instead.

“That’s not me!” You protested in realization, briefly glancing at Sukuna who was lounging beside you on your shared bed, in your shared apartment.

“Just wait, if I let this one die, we’ll lose,” he grumbled, his focus still on his phone as he executed combos for his character.

Frustration bubbled within you, aggravated by his complete disregard for your character being killed yet again just after a few seconds of resurrection. Yes, how petty, you’re currently huffing and sulking over a petty game.

“Okay, you know what, I quit,” you said whilst exiting the game application on your phone and opened Twitter to scroll through your feed and distract yourself. Sukuna looked up from his phone, his brows furrowing in confusion at your sudden outburst.

“What’s wrong, babe?” his voice evidently laced with confusion and concern.

“I’m done playing,” you huffed as you continued scrolling through Twitter. 

Sukuna’s eyes went back to his phone, his voice tinged with annoyance, “What do you mean you’re done playing? We’re in the middle of the game.”

Not feeling his eyes on you anymore, you glanced to look at him with annoyance. You grumbled and decided to get up from the bed and walk towards the kitchen to get some pint of ice cream you stocked in the fridge.

Sukuna momentarily followed your movement with curiosity before focusing back on the game. After a few minutes, the game is over and he made the team win.

Closing his phone, he stood up from the bed to go to where you went to. He arrived at the kitchen to see you eating your mint chocolate ice cream pint while standing near the fridge. 

Sukuna leaned against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed as he watched you indulge in your ice cream pint. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he observed your determined munching.

“So, ice cream’s the cure to everything now?” He teased, a hint of smirk playing on his lips.

You ignored him and continued scooping a bite from the pint. You’re fighting the urge to not look at him, which is by the way needs a lot of restraint as he’s just leaning there in nothing but his sweatpants, his abs clearly visible and you’re there in his oversized shirt, eating. 

“Baby, come on, don’t get so worked up over a game,” Sukuna said as he pushed himself off the doorway with a chuckle and he walked towards the kitchen drawer to grab a spoon. 

Sukuna approached you and leaned next to you to steal a spoonful of ice cream from your pint. “Still can’t believe mint choco’s your favorite flavor, it tastes like toothpaste,” he complained as he continued stealing spoonfuls.

Still sulking, you groaned and slid the pint to his side and dropped your spoon at the sink. You crossed your arms and gave Sukuna an annoyed glare and left to go back to your shared bedroom to sleep.

Shocked at your continued silence, Sukuna grabbed the pint and brought it back to the freezer after washing your spoons in the sink.

He went back into the bedroom to see you asleep, completely covering yourself in the blanket. Sukuna sighed softly and joined you in the bed. This silent treatment of yours went on for the next 2 days to which is now you and Sukuna at the university courtyard.

—

“You’re still continuing this little game with me? Huh, babe?” Sukuna grunted as he took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up as he stared at your sitting figure.

You’re still ignoring him at this point, best believe you’re too ashamed and prideful to stop your silent treatment with him now all because of a fucking game.

“Yo, cap’n! Got a party at my house tonight, be there with your girl!” Satoru’s voice perked up from the hallways near the courtyard as he yelled it to Sukuna.

As Satoru's invitation echoed through the courtyard, Sukuna glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there,” Sukuna said as he puffs out a smoke from his cigarette.

Satoru gave his captain a grin and disappeared around the corner, announcing to everyone there about his house party tonight.

“Babe, what’s this even about? Is this about the game still?” Sukuna complained as he finishes his cigarette and threw it away. You remained silent, still not willing to break your resolve, but the atmosphere between you and Sukuna had shifted. His frustration was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, I get it. I messed up, okay? But is this really worth ignoring each other over?"

You remained stoic, not giving him an inch.

Sukuna took a step closer to you, his expression softening. "I'm sorry, alright? I should've listened to you, and I should've been more considerate. But I want to make things right. Can we please talk about this?"

His words tugged at your heartstrings, but you fought against the urge to relent. Instead, you stood up, your book forgotten on the bench, and began to walk away.

"Babe, wait," Sukuna called after you, his voice pleading. "Don't walk away from me. Let's figure this out together."

But you kept walking, your footsteps echoing in the quiet courtyard as you disappeared from Sukuna's sight. The weight of your decision hung heavy on your shoulders, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn back. It’s your stubbornness and pride.

—

The party pulses with energy, the air thick with laughter and music. Gojo's place is packed with people, bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. Amidst the vibrant crowd, you spot Sukuna, his charismatic presence drawing attention from all around.

He's the soccer team's captain of your university, of course everyone's attention is on him. Especially girls.

You and Sukuna live together, but you didn’t tell him you’d be at the party. Instead, you came separately, still clinging to your silent treatment. You try to mingle and enjoy yourself, but your eyes keep darting back to Sukuna, watching as girls approach him, flirt, and laugh at his jokes.

You know Sukuna well enough to see he’s not really interested, but the sight of other girls touching him, even casually, stirs a fierce jealousy within you. Finally, one girl touches his arm, and that’s the last straw. You turn and head upstairs, needing to wash your face and cool down.

Just as you’re heading upstairs, Sukuna saw your figure and immediately followed you towards the bathroom. In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You hear the door open and turn to see Sukuna standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and anger.

He locks the door behind him and steps closer, his eyes locked on yours. “We’re sorting this shit out. Now.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply sharply. 

Sukuna's jaw clenches, his frustration palpable. "Quit being stubborn, brat," he retorts, his tone bordering on exasperation.

“Wow, I’m the one being stubborn now?” You retorted and fully aware of your own stubbornness. Yes, you ARE being stubborn. But, you will not admit that to Sukuna.

“Oh my god, for a smart, pretty girl like you how can you be so dense about what you’ve been doing to me?! Stop it already and let’s just sort this shit out,” Sukuna says, running a frustrated hand through his tousled pink hair. God, how you missed touching his hair.

“Now I’m stupid?! You didn’t care about me in that game, and now you’re letting those girls touch you. What’s there to discuss?”

Sukuna scoffs, his voice rising, “That's not what I even said. And, I wasn’t letting them touch me!” He walks toward you, grabbing you by the shoulders and looking you directly in the eye with a dangerous chuckle.

“Funny how you’ve been ignoring me for days over a stupid fucking game. When I got home from practice, you were always asleep, definitely avoiding me. And now, I meet you here, with you so mad over this?”

“Yes!” You shout back, your frustration boiling over. “You never take me seriously! It’s always about what you want!”

Sukuna's grip on your shoulders tightens, his eyes blazing with intensity. "That's not true! I care about you more than anything, but you can't just shut me out whenever you're upset."

"Oh, really?" you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because it sure doesn't feel like it when you ignore me and prioritize your stupid game over me!”

“Oh my fucking god, really?! Over that fucking game when you’re the one who urged me to play it with you?” Sukuna retorts, his voice hard. 

“It’s not just a fucking ga–” you didn’t even finish saying your piece when Sukuna suddenly pulls you closer, his lips crashing down onto yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. The surprise and intensity of it takes your breath away, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to react.

His lips continue their relentless assault on yours, demanding your full attention and affection. His tongue explores your mouth, seeking to taste every inch, claiming you as his own. Finally, you returned back the aggressive kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Every thought of anger or resentment dissolves into the fire burning between you.

With a surge of passion, Sukuna lifts you onto the bathroom sink, your legs wrapping around his hips as he roughly kisses you once more. Pulling away from the kiss, Sukuna complained with a grunt, “Fuck, I missed this. You left me hanging for 2 nights, baby.” 

He directed his kisses on your neck as one of his hands is tangling your hair and the other holding you by the waist. He sucked and left hickeys all over your neck as you continued to moan. 

As Sukuna continues his assaults on your neck, you can’t help but feel so aroused over what just happened and definitely feeling Sukuna’s tight member by your thighs. “You’re so hot when you’re angry,” he continued with a sexy voice.  

"Shut up," you mutter breathlessly, but the fire in your eyes betrays your words.

Sukuna's lips curl into a smirk against your skin. "Make me," he challenges, his voice low and gravelly.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging hard, eliciting a growl from him. He retaliates by biting down gently on your collarbone, making you gasp. The bathroom is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, moans, and the soft thud of your bodies colliding with the sink.

With a swift motion, Sukuna's hands slide under your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside. His eyes rake over your body, darkened with lust. "God, you're beautiful," he murmurs before capturing your lips again, this time softer, more reverent.

You respond with equal fervor, your hands roaming his toned chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. The tension between you, built up over days of silence and frustration, fuels your passion.

Sukuna's hands begin to explore under your skirt, his touch lingering along your inner thighs as he slowly lifts your skirt up. He has this hungry gaze as left kisses on your thighs and teasing you, “You’re this wet already? All for me.”

He waits for your reaction, watching as the desire in your eyes clouds over with anticipation. He gives a sly smirk and presses closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours. He can practically feel the tension building as he continues to tease you with his fingers, his voice a low growl, "You're killing me here. But I need to hear you say it.”

You nod, breathless and eager, and he wastes no time, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, finding the heat of your desire. His touch is both gentle and commanding, and you arch into him, craving more.

As his fingers work their magic, his lips find yours once again, swallowing your moans. The intensity of the moment, the raw need between you, drives you both to the edge. Sukuna's breath hitches, and he withdraws his fingers, earning a whimper of protest from you.

"Patience, babe," he whispers, his voice husky with need. He frees himself from his pants, his arousal evident and throbbing. God, you can’t still believe that his long, thick dick fits inside you everytime. Positioning himself between your legs, He leans down and takes your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently. He finally asks, "Ready for me?”

You pull him closer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, Sukuna."

With a groan, he thrusts into you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain, and you cry out, your nails digging into his back. Sukuna stills for a moment, giving you time to adjust, but the fire in his eyes shows he's barely holding back.

When you start to move against him, he takes it as a sign, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. Each rough thrust sends waves of ecstasy through you, and you cling to him, lost in the rhythm you create together. The bathroom fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intense, intimate, aggressive connection.

The sink beneath you creaks ominously, but neither of you pays it any mind, too consumed by the fire burning between you. Your breaths mingle, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, chasing the climax that hovers just out of reach.

With one final, powerful thrust, Sukuna sends you both over the edge, your cries of release mingling with his. The world seems to shatter and rebuild around you, leaving you trembling and spent in each other's arms. 

Coming down from the high, you can't help but laugh softly, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. “Oh my god, that was hot,” you say, your voice shaky with aftershocks.

Sukuna chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We should fight a lot," he snickers, his hands caressing your back soothingly.

You laughed, feeling the tension and frustration of the past few days melt away. “Fuck you, honey,” you said as you pushed him off of you and started fixing your skirt.

Sukuna smirked, adjusting his pants. “Will gladly fuck you again, baby,” he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Still perched on the bathroom sink, you couldn’t help but smile at him. “You’re impossible,” you teased, smoothing out your clothes. 

Sukuna chuckles softly, offering you a hand to help you down from the sink. You accept his gesture, grateful for the support as you both examine the damage you've caused. The sink bears a noticeable crack, a testament to the intensity of your hot session.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Sukuna remarks, a wry grin playing on his lips as he surveys the scene.

You nod in agreement, a mixture of amusement and apprehension washing over you. "We should probably get out of here before Gojo finds out," you suggest, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Sukuna grins, kissing you one last time. "Agreed. But let's do this again sometime, minus the broken sink."

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Deal."

[fromxxthexxashes]

One thing I learned in my screenwriting class is that things and details put into film/TV are intentional. Leave aside misplaced coffee cups, boom mics, and sneakers, everything that ends up in the final cut is important. As we learned with 7x06, time is an incredibly limited commodity, and sometimes things get cut. That means that whatever shots/scenes/moments end up being in the final edit are there for a reason. With that being said, I think it’s incredibly interesting that Eddie is being included - narratively, blocking, and camera framing-wise - in Buck’s journey with discovering his sexuality and his relationship with Tommy.

For one, why choose Eddie to befriend Tommy? They could have easily had Chimney hang out with Tommy, seeing as they already knew each other. But they choose Eddie, and they choose to have Buck spend the entire episode talking about Eddie. Why include confusion regarding whose attention Buck was really trying to get? Why show Buck coming to this conclusion that he was trying to get Tommy’s attention, but also show Buck talking about Eddie and peacocking in front of Eddie so consistently in 7x04? Why choose Eddie to be the one to interrupt the BuckTommy date? Why have Buck spend all of 7x05 more worried about lying to Eddie than about his failed date with Tommy? Why put so much time and emphasis on Buck’s coming out to Eddie? Why insert Eddie so obviously into Buck’s sexuality storyline, when they could be giving that precious screen time to Tommy?

In 7x06, Eddie comes in, proudly dressed up in the matching costume he suggested he and Buck wear. Right after Eddie comes in, Tommy enters wearing the most boring clothes anyone can wear to a party. Not only that, but Buck told him that there was an 80s theme, and he put in no effort to adhere to said theme. He was even dismissive about it, and Buck was clearly a little disappointed about it.

For one, why have Eddie show up first? They could have given that time to Tommy to enter first and develop that relationship if they really wanted the audience to root for them. Instead, they highlighted, once again this season, the relationship and effortless dynamic between Buck and Eddie. For another, why make such a big deal of Tommy being the odd one out, while vocally addressing the fact that Buck and Eddie are literally wearing matching costumes? They didn’t have to be matching, they could have worn any 80s costume. But they choose to dress these two in the attire of two characters in a TV show who are queer-coded partners and best friends.

Why show Eddie being arguably petty and jealous, with Tommy in that scene? Why frame him in the middle of them, why focus on Eddie’s reactions to Buck and Tommy? They could have focused and Buck and Tommy together and individually, but they chose to show Eddie right there in the middle and in the background.

And after Tommy leaves, do you know who stays? Do you know who is the only one that stays? Oh, yeah, it’s Eddie. It’s Eddie who easily goes along with Buck’s shenanigans. It’s Eddie that Buck clings to all night at the bachelor party. It’s Eddie that Buck shares most of his screen time with. They had to cut out 30 minutes of content for 7x06, yet they purposely included Eddie’s reaction to Buck coming out, when we already had his reaction. They could have included any number of people who we hadn’t seen react, but they chose to pan from Buck to Eddie.

They could give screen time to both Buck and Eddie’s current respective romantic partners, but they chose to give screen time to Buck and Eddie, consistently. Why keep making these choices to include Eddie in this storyline, and give precious screen time to that inclusion, if there is no intention to take it somewhere?

It’s all intentional, how they’re including Eddie. It’s all intentional how they keep showing us the relationship between Buck and Eddie. They’re subtly weaving in these moments, shots, comments, and scenes with Eddie and with Buck with the purpose of leading somewhere with Buddie as something more. It’s the same thing they did with Buck’s bisexuality. Now we look back at all the subtext and the little nods, and think “We were right” or “Oh, that makes sense”. They’re doing it with Buddie, too, and I think they have been for a while. They’re doing it so they can introduce this long-term friendship-to-romance arc in a way that is well-built and developed. They’re doing it so we could look back, and think “Oh, yeah, this has been developing this whole time”. They’re doing it so casual fans can be gradually warmed up and conditioned for Buddie, and for the more dedicated fans to notice, pick apart, and cling to. If they didn’t want us to root for Buck and Eddie they wouldn’t keep intentionally choosing to frame them as two people with an incredibly close bond that continuously overshadows their respective relationships. They’re writing and filming in this way so they can have these little, and sometimes not so little, moments to build on when they finally go somewhere romantic with Buck and Eddie.

[heartsteellerr]

How they react after finding out your bias isn't them

Content; Fluff Warnings; Established relationship, somewhat ooc, not properly proofread (grammar errors) Characters; All Heartsteel members

Ezreal

You have this man holding a hand to his heart, clearly offended in the most dramatic way possible. He'll whine and sulk almost every time he sees that darn photocard of Kayn at the back of your phone, or when he catches you watching a fancam of Kayn performing instead of him ⎯ even making comments about how Kayn is more like your boyfriend instead of him. At first he meant it in a joking sort of way but after some time he'd actually get effected by his own words. Maybe with some reassurance and cuddles, along with sweet kisses and a bit of pampering, he'd let it go, for now.

Kayn

Is offended just like Ezreal but is more grumpy and competitive about it. Sure, he could see the appeal if it were any of his other members... But seriously? Aphelios? Out of everyone, even him, you choose Aphelios?? Whenever he felt a tad bit annoyed seeing any Aphelios merch you have on display, he'd start flexing to catch your attention ⎯ whether it'd be his muscle, his rap skills, or even taking a black card out (that clearly isn't his) to coax you to divert your gaze towards him. Needless to say he's a bit petty, just not all the time though. He can ignore your bias for Aphelios on certain days of the year. Keyword: year.

Aphelios

You received an eyeroll from him. That's all. Aphelios wouldn't mind if you liked one of his members more than him because over all, he's the one who has your heart ⎯ and as cliche as it sounds, it is true. So long as you don't go overboard with it then he's totally fine with it. You sometimes catch him looking over your shoulders to watch something with you, like seeing a clip of Sett doing something stupid again will always, always get him to roll his eyes again while it makes you laugh. And if he's feeling generous, he'd get Sett to sign an autograph for you, or even take a pic of Sett with a joking caption that says: "Me and my gf's (other) b(oyfriend)ias getting ready for a shoot"

Sett

He'd be your hype man, no questions asked. Very supportive of you liking one of his members, especially K'Sante ⎯ who he knows has very few fans but still remains dedicated to his job as an Idol, which is something very admirable for Sett. And to further show his support for your bias towards K'Sante, he helps you get some of K'Sante's merch, ones that are hard to get from preorders getting sold out or are limited. Anything for his sweet S/O <3 Though, the only time Sett would feel bothered is if you pay more attention to K'Sante more than him so keep that in mind.

K'Sante

Someone who also doesn't mind you liking one of his members and jokingly teases you about it, especially seeing as it was their DJ Yone, one of the fan faves of the group. When he catches you watching one of their lives or MVs but you're focusing more on Yone, he'd playfully move the screen to focus on his side instead ⎯ sending a wink to you after seeing you roll your eyes at him. But unlike the others, he wouldn't pay much mind to you liking his member, not being bothered nor jealous about it as he trusts that you wouldn't go that far when it comes to you being a fan and being his significant other.

Yone

Yone isn't surprised when he hears you like one of his members, especially when he holds them in high regards in terms of their talent and being their friend, so when you tell him he'd feel flattered and almost somewhat proud. Wouldn't be the type to condone your purchases of their merch even though he should be ⎯ but knowing how high the prices are, how stressful it is preorder just an item, it honestly makes him worry for your wellbeing... and wallet. Sometimes on the more rarer occasions, he'd bend the rules to give you exclusive merch of him and your bias after feeling bad, along with a soft kiss on the forehead and some reprimanding to not spend so much when you have the real deal right in front of you (he did not say it like that but you know what he means.)

[wordsvomit101]

I would put him as a "sad old man" on my contact list if I were MC.

Sometimes I gotta be a bit petty for MC cause they don't do it for themself. Credits to @shyanimeboi and their friend on X: https://x.com/shyanimeboi/status/1795183592961655077/video/4

Warnings: Sexual content, complicated brainstorming about guilt and legacy.

Of course, you would say that- No but honestly, I would be pissed as hell if he said that to me directly, cause sir your brother lowkey put MC's parent on the news, made their friend see his ancestor temporarily, and then almost put them in the casket as well. It's a miracle that they do not blindly hate everything relating to angels at this point. (Although I'm glad that you at least find closure from it you dismal oldster ╮(─_─)╭)

It's a little heartwarming that he shows that he still loves his brothers a lot, given how he said: "traces that Gabriel is alive and well". It got me thinking about how it could very likely mean that he believes at some point in the future, either the other kings kill his brothers or Lucifer will have to choose between Hell (repentance) and his love for them when put in a corner he cannot back out, and with him being the Sin of Pride, I don't think he would either.

Also, if he is happy just by seeing the brand alone then his brothers either avoid attacking Paradise Lost personally or he didn't face them directly after he told off Michael more than 100 years ago and he did say that he "can no longer meet to ask how he is doing".

This first option seems like something Solomon would say. As his descendant, how MC presents themself in the daily chats and some of their options are probably the closest we get to see how Solomon would act when he was still around. An example would be how they question the goofy 3 rules policy in Paradise Lost that was set by the nobles, I will admit, I didn't think of that either. I was affected by the devoted behaviors of the nobles from both the event and the beginning of the prologue, in turn, I put Lucifer on an unreachable pedestal and I love that MC boldly questioned it and presented their opinions and rationale that bring Lucifer closer to the player and shows more air-headed sides to the nobles. They bring new perspectives and challenge the assumptions albeit in a small but significant way. I love it, I hope they do it more in the future.

He also finally said it, the holy words of every prideful bastard I know on media, "How dare you", it took 4 chats but we finally got here.

How he process his brothers' wrongdoings and his own? Very understandable and something, in my opinion, most victims would rather want to get from their offenders' family members, acceptance and acknowledgment of the issues and the damage that was done, and a genuine effort to do the right things. Familial love is very complicated, and it is… difficult to hate and condemn someone you come to love first naturally in your life. I think Lucifer, besides God (but also not really), first loves his brothers, probably the first angel to do so for their kind, and by reading the Seraphs’ comics it clearly shows how they either don’t care or hate each other guts yet still capable of loving Lucifer. He raised them, he's both their brother and their second parental figure, and he show them love outside of their devotion to God.

And how he addresses them in the chat, he calls each one of them a "child", he was being very quietly affectionate by focuses on their well-being when he saw the brand on MC. He also only does this with them and Gamigin, so it is clear how he sees them from a caretaker standpoint (the allegation of him being born in his 30s and raising his brothers is not so far-fetched now, honestly, he is the true dilf here, not God). He knows his brothers ruining other people's lives but when they turn around and love and treat him so dearly that it can feel like what they have done to others is an illusion.

When that illusion doesn't cloud his judgment and beliefs anymore? It will hurt and it can feel like his perception of his brothers are lie. It can be easy to deny the first time but since it happens again and again he has to accept the change and it ain't gonna feel great to realize how he is not the bystander here and directly or indirectly enable his brothers' atrocities (maybe join them in it too at some point, but this is just my thoughts). It gonna rewire how he views a lot of things and it gonna run back from the beginning to the current time, and with how long Lucifer lived? That's rough buddy.

Now, humans are insignificant in these guys' eyes and a single death is nothing to them in the vast universe, yes, but like Lucifer said, God made humans and with how he said it after that, humanity is a part of God's legacy. Legacy is fundamental to what it is to be human to many, something to be carved on their graves and will at the end of their time, it also helps people who live beyond them to remember and let their spirits or unconscious presence remain on the world. So despite humanity in the grand scheme of things, humans are still the work of God. By referring to God as "Our Father," besides asserting his connection, he also indirectly extends that connection to humans. It suggests a shared lineage and inherent value in all of God's creations.

If I interpret what Lucifer said correctly, then the duty of the Seraphim has always been to protect and care for all beings created by God, ensuring the preservation of His legacy. This duty encompasses all creations, whether great or small, beautiful or flawed. To destroy these creations and leave only themselves as His legacy would be a betrayal of their responsibility. A legacy, regardless of its nature, is not to be forcefully erased. Those who seek to erase it tarnish the very legacy they are meant to safeguard and were entrusted to honor.

So if they can't even accept all of God's legacy, no wonder why they can easily go hunt down every single child of one (1) man they are jealous of. Perhaps this is my speculation on what they did with Solomon, who seemed resigned to being forgotten by the devils in chapter 5. They sought to erase his entire bloodline, his descendants, and his legacy, ultimately aiming to make him extinct from the world (like how poachers do it toward endangered animals). For someone like Solomon, this, in my opinion, could be the most terrible fate for him. I honestly wouldn't put it past God's plan to make MC a part of this war for Solomon.

This option is more like the canon MC than the Solomon option from before. They felt more personal here in their anger.

The desensitization for guilt and emotional detachment is strong in this. Lucifer acknowledges the gravity and permanence of the sins he and his brothers have committed and accepts that he must coexist with his guilt and remorse, but how he goes around with it is mostly for himself. Lucifer mentions that he "voluntarily fell to Hell", a form of self-punishment despite his brothers' protests (but also calling Hell the starting point of sadness is wild cause honestly? Not that wrong, I can't see truly happy devils, and if there is, their development happened off-screen).

Lucifer’s remark that the MC is "not that meaningful enough yet" is his emotional detachment from others. His focus remains on his own internal experiences rather than on the perspectives or forgiveness of others. This detachment suggests that his pursuit of guilt is inward-focused, rather than being about seeking forgiveness or redemption through the eyes of others. Selfish and very prideful, very fitting for the Sin of Pride. The idea that Lucifer is almost addicted to the feeling of guilt points to a self-destructive aspect of his personality. It indicates that he may be using guilt as a way to continually punish himself or a way to keep feeling alive through suffering.

Now this leads to my next point:

Lucifer's search for guilt and remorse indicates a need for intense emotional experiences. Witnessing someone cry, especially if he has caused the tears, could provide a powerful emotional release or catharsis for him. This could momentarily alleviate his own feelings of guilt by transferring some of that emotional burden onto others.

Control. By inducing tears in others, he might be exerting a form of control that he lacks in his own life. This dynamic could satisfy a deep-seated need to reclaim some semblance of power over emotional outcomes.

Witnessing tears might serve as a mirror to his own inner turmoil. It externalizes the pain and suffering he feels internally, allowing him to confront it more tangibly. This externalization can create a twisted sense of connection or empathy, aligning with his need to constantly grapple with guilt.

Lucifer's enjoyment of seeing others cry could be intertwined with his own cycle of punishment and redemption. Inflicting emotional pain might be a way for him to project his self-loathing and need for atonement onto others. It creates a scenario where he can experience the aftermath of guilt without direct self-harm.

Causing others to cry could validate Lucifer's sense of guilt and reinforce his belief that he is deserving of punishment. This validation can be perversely satisfying, as it confirms his self-perception as someone who commits unforgivable sins.

Tears are often a sign of vulnerability. Seeing someone in a state of emotional rawness might create a sense of intimacy that Lucifer finds alluring. This intimacy could particularly appeal to someone who feels isolated by guilt and sins.

[harrystylescherry]

A/N: wow, what amazing timing. let's pretend i did this on purpose. happy birthday, harry! fyi, this is vol. 2--you don't have to, but i rec reading vol. 1 first :)

*warning: spanking/paddling, mild pain, orgasm denial

what this is: pure smut tbh - vol. 2

word count: 5.5k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

It had been three agonizing days–three and a half if you were going to count this morning…and you were, because the ache between your legs and the need thrumming at your core was the only thing you could think about. 

Your boyfriend was punishing you in the worst way: orgasm denial. He’d work you and edge you until you were just on the brink of release, one…two…three times…then release you from the restraints, or pull you up from his lap, and go about his business. As if you weren’t a puddle of need, dripping between your thighs, angry and wanton and sorry. 

Because that was the whole point of this–for you to be sorry. To show you not to misbehave, or shirk direct orders. 

In your eyes, it was a minor infraction. He had left on a business trip for five days, and told you, explicitly, not to touch yourself, not for a teasing second, not to come. Then, he made sure to clarify that none of the sex toys at his place or yours were to be used either, knowing how much you loved a loophole. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, and you had taught him well to be specific and exact with his instructions. On more than one occasion, he’d tell you that you should’ve been a lawyer–a comment that was as much of a compliment as it was a chastising for being bratty and pushing his limits. 

The instruction was a punishment in itself, though he’d never admit to it. He wanted you to go with him, so between the stressful meetings and boring client calls, he could have moments of peace. He wanted to show you around a new city (though he’d only ever been there once before himself), discover hole in the wall eateries and dive bars together, fuck you in places not exactly meant for fucking, and, of course, have you on his arm for all the client dinners and drink-night-schmoozing he was expected to do. Unfortunately for him, you were only three months into your new job as an assistant editor/junior staff writer for The Wire, an indie music magazine based in London that mostly focused on independent artists and underground scenes. Were you cool enough for the job? Probably not, but you were open to anything and everything–your 134 very specific spotify playlists proof that you didn’t discriminate. 

The job was a lot of work, and you were busting your ass to prove to the close-knit team that ran it that you were worth keeping around. Your ninety-days of entry-probation had just ended. Taking time off wasn’t a good look (not that you had even racked up enough hours to take off an entire work week), and while working from home wasn’t off the table, you didn’t want it to seem like you didn’t want to be there. On the ground, toiling away at your tiny desk with the other two assistants and three interns. It was fun. You loved Harry, but your priorities right now were what they were. He understood it, though that didn’t mean he had to like it. And clearly, he didn’t, as evidenced by his very unfair and petty instruction. 

You had done well the first three days, despite the teasing texts and naughty photos meant to bait you–which is why you’d been so strong. He wasn’t going to trick you into breaking a rule. 

Day four was what broke you. You hadn’t heard from him all day (which only made you want the teasing and photos now that they were being withheld), you had stupidly started an erotic romance novel that was essentially 320 pages of pure (ungodly and delicious) fucking, and you were so stressed out from work that your body was begging for a release beyond what your favorite workout could give. 

You were just a girl. A horny, needy, sexually frustrated girl. It’s not your fault that the desperation was too strong for you to deny the call of the clit sucker you kept buried in your underwear drawer. It was society’s. 

In the moment, the rationalizing was totally sound. And in the moment, the orgasm was worth it. 

Then, Harry’s facetime came through only a few minutes after you’d come down, as if he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to your orgasms. 

“Hi,” you said after checking to make sure your hair was fine and the toy was safely tossed beneath your bed. 

His brow furrowed on the screen. “Hi, baby.”

“How’s your trip?” You settled into the pillows behind you. 

“Good,” he mumbled. His lips twitched. “Did you touch yourself today?”

“W-what?”

“You did, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “When? Just now?”

You scoffed. “Harry, come on. Of course not. You said–”

“I know what I said. And I know that you didn’t listen.” His voice was stern and it sent a jolt to your core. 

“That’s–”

“Don’t lie to me. I know what you look like after–and it’s all over your face.”

Your cheeks flamed. You were caught. 

“It’s not my fault!”

You could see he was fighting off a smile–a devilish one. “Whose fault is it then?”

“I…” You didn’t really have an answer. 

“That’s what I thought.” You watched his jaw tick through the screen. “I’ll be home tomorrow night. I expect you to already be there when I do. Now, get cleaned up and go to bed.”

He ended the call before you could respond. No ‘goodnight’ or ‘I love you’. You were screwed…and not in the way you would’ve liked. So, feeling a little guilty, you moved into the bathroom, took a shower, and climbed beneath your covers at 9pm. 

The night he got home, he restrained you to the bed without a word. Flat on your back, with your limbs pulled to each respective corner of the bed, he teased your nipples with a paint brush, then your clit, until you were a squirming, writhing mess. Then it was over. He brushed a hand over your cheek and went to take a shower. 

Each night since, the edging had progressively gotten worse. 

You were aroused constantly. Getting through each work day felt like an impossible feat. All you could think about was the nights before–the pleasure in all the teasing–and then the pain in going without any relief. Unfortunately, that only made you wetter. 

You were a zombie through your morning meetings. You nodded when you were supposed to and took down notes just so you didn’t completely check out. You’d been staring at the commissioned article in front of you for almost forty-five minutes, not an edit made because you couldn’t tear your focus from the steady throb between your legs, when a text from Harry came through. 

Same time tonight. 

That’s all it said, though it didn’t need to say anything else. A shiver moved through you. Another night of torture. You held in the groan of frustration (with maybe a bit of anticipation), hoped that your punishment would be over tonight and white-knuckled through the rest of your day. 

You knocked on Harry’s door at exactly 8pm. No dinner together was part of the punishment, and so was not being able to use your key. Those were always part of the punishments, though, and served to remind you of your place in this area of your relationship–that you were not in control, could only come and go as much as he wanted you to, and all the other things that you already knew…and that you sometimes needed reminding of. 

When were you going to learn that being rebellious was fun until it wasn’t (though, punishments could still be kind of fun–not that you would ever tell Harry that)? 

It was a rhetorical question, since you had never exactly been one to submit without a fight.

“Little brat,” he said when he opened the door. “Straight to my room. Take your clothes off in the hall.”

No kiss hello, no smile, no sweetness–just like the last three nights. Maybe the punishments weren’t always fun. Your eyes went to the floor in shame as you went past him and up the stairs. He followed behind you, his footfalls even and sure. He leaned against the wall with his arms over his chest as you pushed your jeans to the floor and peeled off your t-shirt. 

When you went to move into the room, Harry tsked in disapproval. “You know better than that. Don’t make this worse for yourself, sub.”

Your entire body lit up with embarrassment. It was a mistake. You were nervous and anxious to get it over with, not thinking. You knew you weren’t getting a release tonight, could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. Your hands shook as you unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor, followed by your panties. 

“In the room, hands against the wall.”

You took a shaky breath and did exactly as he said. 

The thin paddle pressed against your bare ass when he came up behind you and your body clenched. You weren’t exactly a fan. He slid it down the back of your thighs and gave your skin a light tap. 

“Legs apart.” You obeyed and he hummed. “Keep your arms and legs straight, and eyes up.” You took a deep breath in preparation. The paddle came down on your ass and you flinched. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“N-no, sir.”

“So, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whack.

There was no warning or warm-up. He took turns with each cheek, hitting hard and then easing up, so you never knew what to prepare for. At least he didn’t make you count them, not that you thought you could. You were too focused on not letting your knees buckle, fighting not to lean against the wall. 

It went on like that for a while, until the searing burn turned into the kind of sharp numbing that left you dripping. 

After what had to be at least twenty strikes, he dipped his hand between your thighs. Like always, shame slithered in; the embarrassment that all of this turned you on. It disappeared, like it always did, the second Harry made his sound of approval. That little hum that told you he was pleased, even though he wouldn’t vocalize it the way you wanted him too. It was a punishment, after all. 

He brushed his knuckles over your clit and you almost crumpled to the floor. You were so turned on, so needy, that the slightest touch was a straight shot to your core–electric. Two flicks of his fingers and you knew you’d come, which meant even more trouble. 

He touched you again and you hissed. 

“You don’t come. Not until I say.” As if you needed the reminder. 

“Yes…sir.” He chuckled at the breathiness of your voice. It was mean–and hot. He knew it, too. 

The paddle against your skin again, then his fingers moving through your slit. “Such a dirty girl,” he whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to think about anything else besides the pleasure strumming at your core. His fingers were too skilled, they knew your body too well. 

Your left knee buckled–for less than a second–but he caught it. Goosebumps raised across your skin when you heard the three tsks from behind you. 

“I–”

“Shh…” 

You pressed your lips together, forcing the plea back down your throat. 

“On the bed.”

Silently, and with your head down, you walked on shaky legs to sit at its edge. Harry pushed your chest back so you laid down. 

“Don’t move.”

He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the spreader bar. He strapped in each of your ankles so you couldn’t close your legs and then moved it up, so your knees were bent into your chest. Your breath was ragged and you fought to keep any whimpers from slipping out when he secured your wrists in the cuffs attached to the center of the bar. 

You couldn’t stretch your legs, couldn’t close them–couldn’t move. Completely open to him, you were in the perfect position for him to do whatever he wanted. 

He hummed as he moved back to the wardrobe, opening and closing drawers. He seemed to be making a decision. When he turned back to you, there was a smirk on his face. You took a deep breath when you saw the pink device in his hands. 

He pushed the curved vibrator into you, until the fit was perfectly snug. He made sure to position it so the pad pressed right against your already too-sensitive clit. Then, he went and sat in the armchair a few paces from the corner of the bed. 

It looked as though he was simply scrolling through his phone, his posture relaxed in the chair, head propped against his closed fist–but you knew better. He was making you sweat it out. You knew what was coming–and the wait was agonizing, just as he intended it to be. 

When it came–the sharp buzzing both inside and out–your whole body jerked. As he moved his thumb up and down his screen, the vibrations followed, growing stronger and then mellowing out. 

This was one of your favorite toys, except maybe not anymore. Holding back your orgasm was feeling closer and closer to impossible. Your hips bucked against the mattress, each attempt to get away from the intense vibrations futile. You wanted to cry–knew you would if this didn’t end soon. 

You uselessly struggled against the restraints, your legs trying to close on sheer instinct. The sounds that escaped you seemed more akin to those of an animal than a woman and your entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat. 

Without even thinking about it, you were begging. 

“Please, please, please.” Harry stayed silent. “S-sir, god, please!”

“No.”

The vibrations stopped and your body sagged in a false sense of relief now that the fight was over, though there was no [real] relief. He still refused to let you come.

The whining was involuntary. Each nerve ending was a live wire. If he touched you just once, just [barely] you’d explode. The squirming of your hips against the slick silicone was what pulled him up from his chair. He pulled the device from you, leaving you empty and aching. 

After releasing your wrists and ankles from the restraints, he patted the inside of your thigh. “Go take a shower.” 

That’s it. Nothing else. You felt the pressure behind your eyes as you stood from the bed. You nodded and whispered your “Yes, Sir” as you moved into the en suite. 

Your joints were sore from all your struggling, and all you wanted was a hug. It seemed his point had been made–at least in your opinion. You broke a direct order and then tried to lie about it. That was bad, you got it. Wouldn’t do it again. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t take the punishment because you could. If not, you would’ve used your safe word. He only ever gave you as much as you could handle and you trusted him with your body entirely, without question. It was the lack of aftercare that was getting to you. During this punishment, he’d been doling out the bare minimum. All you’d gotten was maybe a kiss to the forehead and little love pats to your thighs. You were used to falling asleep in his lap, being wrapped up in a blanket, or being tucked into his side as he prepared you a snack or (upon request) ice cream sundaes. 

Under the hot water, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and let your body relax. You washed your hair and lathered your body using his products (ignoring the ones he kept for you on the shelf) since that was as close to him as he’d allow you to get this week. 

When you opened the shower door, he was standing there, waiting with a towel. “C’mere,” he said as he held it open for you. You stepped into him and he wrapped it around your body, then rubbed his hands up and down your arms. You snuggled as close to him as you could and he kissed the top of your head before saying, “Get dressed and I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to cry again, but didn’t. The punishment would end eventually, and you weren’t going to be weak about it. 

*

It was day four and you were so sexually frustrated, you wanted to cry. Literally. At this point, you were nothing more than a bundle of needy hormones. You had chosen to wear a dress into the office for no other reason than you wouldn’t have been able to deal with the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit all day. Why torture yourself when Harry was already doing more than enough?

Halfway through your morning, you got a text from your boyfriend requesting that you go straight to his place from work. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear you sigh in annoyance. You didn’t want to be denied anymore. You were tired, and your body was still a little sore from the night before and you were mad at him. He never restrained you like that without some kind of massage afterwards. 

Each time you stood, your knees ached just a little and your hips had been stiff when you got out of bed this morning. Your body–and your brain–had had enough. 

You left work a little later than usual, staying to finish an edit that didn’t need to be done until Monday. The tube ride to his was spent trying not to work yourself up. You leaned back in your seat and listened to an album that your boss had been talking about all week, hoping to distract yourself. It worked until you were standing in front of his door. 

It opened without you having to knock and he smiled softly when he saw you. “Long day?”

So, apparently, you looked as tired as you felt. “I guess.”

He motioned for you to come in and, hesitantly, you did. He took your bags and set them in the entryway. 

“Help me finish dinner?”

Dinner. You tried not to get your hopes up that the punishment was over, but he was relenting. You’d take any allowance you could get at this point. 

“Sure.”

All that was really left to do was make the salad while he pulled everything out of the oven and set the table. 

“Go ahead and sit down,” he said as he took the bowl from in front of you. 

You took your seat and watched him move around the room, back and forth from the table with the roast chicken and sides, to the racks where he kept his wine. He poured you a glass and squeezed the back of your neck–a gesture that was both possessive and comforting. 

As you ate, he asked about work–the kinds of things you were working on, how you were settling in, etc. It was the most conversation the two of you had since he came home and it felt good. Almost too good. As much as you tried to fully relax back into your normal routine and dynamic, you couldn’t lose the last bit of tension in your shoulders. 

You wouldn’t be lured into a false sense of comfort–and Harry knew it too. He tried to hide his little half-smile, and if it were anyone else but you, it would’ve been missed but you knew him too well. 

When you put your napkin on the table signaling you were finished, he cleared the table without a word. He whistled along to the song playing throughout the main floor as you scrolled on your phone, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention. 

Really, you were in no place to be petty, but your nature was your nature. You flinched when you felt his hands on your shoulders, massaging into the knots that resided there for months, since the beginning of your new job. It was from stress that you didn’t necessarily mind, since you were doing something you loved. His fingers climbed up the back of your neck and into your hairline, pressing in soft circles. You hummed in satisfaction. 

“Is that good, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you said as your eyes fluttered closed. A quick tug to your hair pulled them open again. So, it was starting. “Yes, Sir,” you corrected, and were rewarded with more kneading at the base of your skull. 

“C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

Your body buzzed with anticipation as you followed him up and into his room. He kissed your cheekbone as he passed in front of you to go to the wardrobe–the one that you’d come to see as the bane of your existence this last week. 

“Strip and lay on the bed for me.” You did as he said. All he returned with was a pair of soft handcuffs. Once your wrists were fastened together in front of you, he pushed your legs open and took a step back from the bed. 

“Hm.” He pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he looked you over. “Pretty.”

The whimper was involuntary as you preened beneath his gaze. You could feel the pulse of your core. You were so sexually frustrated that it took nothing more than his approval for the desire to pool between your legs. The smirk on his face told you he could see it. 

“You didn’t listen to me,” he said as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He reached down and casually traced the outline of you, making sure to keep away from your clit and your center. “Why not?”

“I-I was horny, sir. You kept s-sending me–” You cut yourself off with a needy moan when Harry dipped his fingers in just enough to coat them with you. 

He spread it over your folds until the slickness touched your inner thighs. “Keep going.”

You took a shuddering breath and tried to focus. You also forced your hips to stay down, knowing that if you rocked yourself into his hand, he’d probably pull away. You couldn’t risk that, not when he was being so nice. “You kept sending me texts and photos o-of yourself–oh, god–and telling me all these…things.” 

He brushed his fingers through your folds as you spoke, skirting around the bundle of nerves perfectly primed to set you off. 

“So?”

“So, it made me want you and you weren’t there.”

“So?” He pushed a finger inside and your back arched off the bed. “Eyes open,” he said when they fluttered shut. 

“So, it wasn’t nice. You were teasing me–torturing me on purpose. It wasn’t fair that I had to wait and you didn’t.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“I–”

“You hate when I say that, I know.” He pushed a second finger inside and you moaned. Your hips tilted forward on their own, seeking out something–anything–for relief. 

He removed his fingers. When he brushed his wet knuckles over your clit, a strangled cry replaced the disappointed sigh that escaped you. 

“Is that what you want, baby?”

You whined and wriggled on the mattress while he held his knuckles just out of reach. 

“Is it?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.” 

“I didn’t get off while I was gone.”

“Okay,” you panted, as you fought your own neediness. 

Harry slapped your clit and you cried out. “Listen to me. I did not get off while I was gone.”

“What? But you–”

“I know, the torture is the point. The teasing. I thought you would’ve learned this by now.” Another brush over your clit. Another moan. “That rule was for both of us. Did you think I wasn’t in agony? Each time you answered or sent a photo in return it took everything in me not to wrap my hand around my cock, but I have some self-control. I have patience. And I understand that whatever pleasure I could give myself wouldn’t compare to the kind I could get from you.”

When you whimpered this time, it wasn’t with need, but shame. You may have felt a little bad about breaking the rule now, and not just because it meant a little disappointment and a punishment. This was a big disappointment, you could hear it in his tone. It wasn’t just breaking a simple rule, but ruining something that was supposed to be good for the both of you. Granted, in your defense, he could’ve told you that, but you also knew why he didn’t: he shouldn’t have had to. 

“Sir, I’m really sorry.”

“I bet you are.” He gave your clit a pinch that sent a flash of heat over your entire body. “I should make you wait another week. Edge you every night until you're begging for my cock, and then still not give it just so we’re even.”

“I–”

“Quiet.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you further down the bed. He placed his knee on the mattress, positioning his thigh only an inch from your clit. “You want to come so badly, go ahead.”

Your brow lifted in surprise. “What?”

“Go ahead, come. You have my permission, but I’m not helping you. You want it, take it, or I’ll uncuff you, and you can get dressed so I can take you home.”

“Sir–”

“You’ve got less than a minute before I dress you myself.” The hard edge to his voice told you he wasn’t kidding. Not in the slightest.

You looked from the stern set of his face down to his jean-clad thigh. When you looked back at your boyfriend, his jaw was set. He didn’t move or say a word. 

Your entire body heated with something close to embarrassment, but it was also mixed with anticipation, shame, and need. You didn’t want to go home, you wanted to get off and if this was all he was offering, you’d have to take it. Especially since, if you didn’t, you’d be in even more trouble with him. You didn’t need him to say it to know. 

You planted your heels into the mattress and closed the gap between you two. When you lifted your hips, your clit brushed against the rough material and you groaned. You rolled your hips against his thigh and cursed. It felt so good. You knew it wouldn’t take you very long to cum. The only thing stopping you from instantly falling over the edge was the fact that you could only get close enough for a light brushing–there was no pressure. The only real friction came from the coarse fabric–but it would be enough. More than enough. 

Your abs and thighs burned as you held your hips up, and with every rock of your hips, the muscles in your stomach contracted with the effort. This was its own kind of punishment, you realized. He was making you work for it. 

You had kept your eyes locked on his stiff cock pushing against the front of his jeans, not sure if you wanted to know how exactly he was looking at you. 

“That’s it, baby.” 

But, of course, all it took was that little bit of praise to get your attention. The sternness was still there, but there was also heat. He wanted you–and he seemed to love seeing you like this: needy and unbelievably desperate. Because that’s what you were. Getting your release was all you could think of. 

You wanted something to hold onto, to grip onto the blankets beneath you for more stability, but you couldn’t do it with your wrists handcuffed together. You whined with the realization. 

“I know.” The comfort was full of condescension, and you wished it didn’t turn you on even more, but it did. 

You were sweating from exertion, but you were so close. 

“C’mon, baby. Rub yourself on my thigh. I can feel how wet you are, my dirty girl.” 

You looked down to see for yourself. Where you rubbed yourself was a much darker shade of blue. Your head fell back with a moan. 

In an act of undeserved kindness, Harry pressed his thigh against you, offering you the most delicious kind of friction; the kind that almost hurt. 

It was only another second before you were tumbling over the edge. You came so hard that stars erupted behind your eyes, and your skin felt white hot. You were sure you cursed and cried out his name but you were so detached from reality that you couldn’t know for sure. 

He didn’t wait for you to come down from the high. He undid the fastening of his jeans before leaning over and uncuffing your wrists. “Up.” He walked to the right side of the bed and took a seat. “Come and sit on my cock.”

Still in somewhat of a daze, you did as he said. As soon as he pulled his length from the confines of his jeans, you straddled his hips and sank down. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned. He gripped your waist and guided your hips, holding you down so he was fully sheathed. 

You ignored the harsh rubbing of material against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and focused on how good it felt to feel him inside of you. 

“You’re gonna come again,” he said before sucking on your neck, leaving a mark that you hoped would be gone by the time you had to go back to the office after the weekend. 

You whimpered, not entirely confident you had it in you. Your clit was overstimulated and raw from the week’s torture. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know. You’ll do it anyway.”

When his voice was that deep and raspy, so commanding, who were you to argue?

“Yes,Sir.”

He pulled you far enough away that he could dip down and lick your peaked nipples. He sucked and nibbled until your chest and cheeks were red hot with the building of another orgasm. 

“Oh, god.” You gripped the collar of his t-shirt. 

He hummed against your skin. “That’s it. Keep going.” He held you tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to disconnect your clit from where it rubbed against the base of him even if you wanted to–and you were really walking that line. It was almost unbearable, the pleasure only a hair away from pain. 

When he tilted his hips to hit that special spot inside, the tension ripped loose. You dug your nails into the muscle of his shoulders as your body shook against his, your hips rocking frantically, both chasing the high and trying to get away from it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck as he emptied himself inside you. With a strong arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you riding him through both of your orgasms as your body filled with exhaustion. 

He peppered kisses over your chest, shoulders, neck and jaw until you felt him go soft, still tucked inside. You were close to falling asleep on his chest when he pulled out and lifted you up into his arms. 

“Shower first,” he whispered before kissing the top of your head and carrying you into the en suite. He set you on the counter and disappeared.

He came back with a cold glass of water, which you took happily. He turned the shower on, pulled two towels from the wardrobe and set them on the fancy warmer before returning to you. His hands moved from your shoulder to cup your face and he leaned in to kiss you. 

“You did well this week, love.”

“It sucked.”

He laughed. “It was supposed to.” Another peck to your lips and he helped you down. “Go ahead.”

You stepped into the shower and watched through the quickly fogging glass as he stripped. The second he stepped in you were glued to him, your head to his chest and his arms around your waist. 

You only pulled apart when he washed you. His hands moved over your body, soft and soapy, digging into the muscles he had neglected the nights before. 

“I think I owe you a massage or two.”

“Try three–at least.”

He kissed your hip from his spot beneath you. When he brought his hand up to wash between your legs, you flinched. 

“Sore?”

“A little numb, actually. Wasn’t even expecting that to hurt.” 

He kissed right above your mound. “Sorry, love. I’ll be gentle.”

He finished his task and you took over, doing the same for him. Despite his hardening length, he didn’t try to touch you again, or ask you to help him relieve what must have been a lot of pent up frustration. Instead, he held your face in his hands and kissed you, murmuring soft I love yous in between. 

After toweling each other off, he turned down the covers, put on Sleepless in Seattle and promised to make you blueberry pancakes in the morning.

[cherryredstars]

Hobie is very possessive and protective (especially hiding his relationship with her from other spidies to make sure she stays protected) around Ballerina!Reader (who is his biggest supporter since she was the only person that understands the meaning of his songs) especially since she has a tendency to go age regression when she's super stressed or very insecure about herself and it certainly didn't help about Gwen's (visiting Hobie's dimension) passive aggressiveness towards her every time she sees reader to the point Hobie is being petty towards Gwen and being extra affectionate towards reader and praising and murmuring sweet nothings to her to get his point across Gwen that Reader and him are dating?

Pairing : Hobie Brown x fem!reader

Warnings: Gwen is a bitch, SFW, Fluff

A/N: Been a while since I wrote Hobie, so sorry if this doesn’t match how I usually depict him.

Unedited

You’re confused when you tune back in.

You weren’t surprised- or happy- to find Gwen still lounging in Hobie’s flat when you had returned from practice. You were once sympathetic to her situation, glad your lovely boyfriend was kind enough to let her crash at his place, but that quickly disappeared with her treatment. At the worst times, she made you feel like the guest who overstayed her welcome. Whispered remarks when you crossed paths or scrutinizing looks thrown your way when she thought you weren’t looking.

Hobie, of course, doesn’t stand it at all. Coming to your rescue if he happens to catch her in the act. But he’s busy most times, and you feel bad adding to his long list of worries and injustices he needs to correct. But, tonight is one of the rare nights that Hobie decides he’s been too consistent in his schedule and needs a sporadic day just relaxing at home.

He had instantly pulled you into his lap, roughed pads of his fingers playing with the loose fabric of your skirt that hangs around your leotard. You had thought Gwen was being nice for once as she began talking about her own experiences with dance, only to quickly realize it was a hidden competition. You had zoned out some time through her long ramble of achievements and experiences, focusing on the wall behind her and daydreaming about something sweet to feast on after dinner.

You only realized you zoned out when Hobie’s familiar accent swirls in your ears. You turn to look at him, realizing he’s stopped playing with your skirt. He squeezes your thigh lightly, bringing you back to attention.

“Hm?” You hum quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Bet y’a better dancer.” Hobie repeats into your ears, warm breath actually taking shape into processed words.

Your cheeks flare and you smile bashfully, leaning further into him and turning back to Gwen. She eyes you suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

“What are you smiling and whispering about?”

You quickly drop your grin, acting like a child with their hand half way in the cookie jar. “Oh… no I wasn’t-”

“Told ‘er she’s a better dancer than you.” Hobie says, interrupting you.

You turn to Hobie, mouth slightly agape at his blunt words. He’s usually one to speak his mind, but every now and then it catches you off guard. You turn to Gwen quickly, trying to amend for your boyfriend’s words when she snorts.

She leans back in her chair, tucking the long pieces of her hair behind her ear and out of her face. She rolls her eyes, clearly unamused and quickly discarding Hobie’s statement.

“Whatever.” She drawls, huffing. “Oh, I wanted to tell you I’m gonna probably dip before you get back tomorrow. Gonna crash on Peter’s couch or something.”

You can’t help the small bubbles of excitement brewing in your chest at her statement, instead faking a sudden tiredness as you hide your face in Hobie’s neck to conceal your smile.”

“Cool.” Hobie replies uninterested, rubbing his hand up and down your back, the cool metal of his rings rolling against your elastic uniform. “Tell May-Day I say 'ello.”

Gwen hums in agreement, and Hobie effortlessly lifts you up as he stands. Your arms tighten around his midsection as his hands support you.

“Gonna crash for the night.” Hobie says dismissively, already walking away to his room.

You smile wider against his skin, sighing happily. He can feel the relief that Gwen will be gone soon relaxing your body, and he chuckles as he kisses the top of your head.

“Me too, love. Me too.”

[honkytonk-hangman]

Line of Sight [4]

JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN X READER

Summary: In which everyone's worst nightmare is realised, and Jake's girlfriend isn't actually the reasonable one at all. She's actually just as bad. There's a reason she's with him, after all. or Penny bollocks you over your petty antics with Jake during a volleyball game, but you're too busy enjoying being the only thing on Jake Seresin's radar (on the ground, anyway).

Warnings: fluff, mentions of jakes clealry very healthy mental health that is in no way compromised or flawed and he defintiely wont be needing therapy. thats mostly a joke, this chapter is all fluff :P

Notes: Its done!!! thanks so much for readin this little series and sticking with it <3 I hope this is a nice little happy ever after for these two <3

MASTERLIST

“It's impolite to stare.” Jake scolds, not even bothering to look away from where he prepares to land his third bullseye in as many minutes. For your part, you don’t bother to stop staring as he at last throws his dart, earning a mix of impressed cheers and annoyed groans. You’re still watching him when he turns to you, ignoring the others as they clap him on the back or try to goad him into another game. Instead he steps in toward you, collecting his beer and taking a swig, now just as focused on you as you are on him.

“Say, you’re pretty good at this darts thing,” you ignore his prior commentary and instead shift your weight to pop your hip out. Jake takes another swig, raising an eyebrow, but shrugging all the same. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.” You bat your eyelashes innocently, earning an amused look from the blond.

“Who am I to refuse helping a lady out?”

Before you can even really respond, Jake has stepped around you, one hand trailing down your side and to your hip, the other curling around your elbow as he guides you the few steps over to the dart board. Just as ever when you do this routine, Jake is pressed right up behind you, and just as ever, he pays no real attention to teaching you a thing at all, instead simply using you as a vessel to show off once again. He knows you love it, and you do, your body growing warmer with every bullseye he lands, his hand at your waist gripping tighter when you snuggle further back into him. He squeezes you a little in warning when you wiggle your hips again, but when you glance up to shoot him your best innocent look, you find him grinning down at you with only trace amounts of smugness present.

“Gee, you really are good at this,” you tease, speaking softer now so only he can hear. Playfulness seems to leave his smile entirely then, and he leans in, hand tracing up from your arm to your chin, where he directs you to a much better angle for kissing. It’s only a quick kiss, but you can’t help but laugh a little at the way your little show melts Hangman right down to the Jake at his core. You bounce up to peck the corner of his mouth as he begins to pull back, aware of the crowded bar around you, and neither of you wanting to be that couple (although, you definitely were that couple, Phoenix has reliably informed you), but you weren’t willing to let him go so quick.

Jake chuckles at your display of clear affection, and even all these months later, you know it’s still something he’s getting used to. It saddens you sometimes, how he was so easy to give affection, but in many ways never seemed to expect it back. It makes you think of the year and then some that he practically ignored you, for what he thought was your own good, working off of the assumption that should you talk, you simply wouldn’t like him.

He was dead wrong of course, you had grown to like him without him ever saying a word to you, and once he did, your interactions only served to confirm the feelings you had. Jake’s soft little surprise anytime you plainly and clearly expressed your interest in him or what he believed to be his various character flaws quickly grew to be one of your favourite things about him, and you loved taking the time to complement or fawn over him at any given opportunity, to big him up in a way that you can.

You place one last kiss to the underside of his jaw as he straightens fully again, and you both become aware of the discussion of a pool competition. Still with his hands firm on your hips, he turns his head long enough to invite himself to the game.

“Duh.” Javy replies with a smile and a half-hearted roll of his eyes. Phoenix’s eye roll isn’t nearly as subtle, but her smile is.

“I’ll get you another drink,” you say softly, reluctantly extracting yourself from him. Jake seems to hesitate for a moment, eyes flickering between you and Dagger before you reach out and give his chest a light shove. “Go on, win for me, Hangman.” You have to suppress a giggle when his chest seems to puff out. A wide smirk pulls across his face, and he gives you a little nod. You loved how seriously he took these sorts of things.

“Careful what you wish for, baby, don’t want to get too competitive about a friendly pool game just to make you happy,”

“That is like the most romantic threat anyone’s ever given me!” you exclaim with a mostly genuine dreaminess. You yelp as you turn around, as the moment you have your back to him, Jake delivers a light swat to your backside. You fix him with faux-disapproval and flick your hair hastily in a way you know he finds extremely sexy.

“Careful there, Hangman,” you call in a sing-song manner, all the while he continues to smirk at you in a way that some may consider ‘infuriating’ (Review courtesy of Phoenix) or ‘annoying as fuck, man! Blink!’ (Feedback provided by Coyote). “Penny’ll have you thrown out for that sort of thing…'' you say with sickening amounts of fake innocence, batting your eyelashes at him, as he non-verbally calls your bluff, his smirk widening and his chin lifting as if to say ‘go on, then, do it.’.

You don't bother pretending you can win that sort of battle with him, especially not while you’re still clothed, so you flick your hair even more aggressively this time, and begin making your way toward the bar, swaying your hips dramatically for the sole benefit of the seaglass-green eyes that you know will follow you until you reach your destination.

You manage to find your way to the front of the drinks queues fairly quickly, and push yourself up and into the empty seat at the end of the bar. You’re in kind of a blind spot here, you’re more than familiar with the Hard Deck by now to know if you were anyone else, part of any other group, you’d be seriously worried about you chances of actually ordering, but all things considered, you aren’t anybody else, and you just so happen to be a part of the owner’s husband’s little band of merry men.

Penny spies you almost impossibly, and despite the heavy crowds at every other section of the bar, you see her pick up an already cleaned glass, and pretend to wipe it down as she makes her way to where you are, placing the glassware away and hitting you with a blindingly warm smile.

“If it isn’t one of my favourite love birds… what can I get for you hon?” Just as Penny finishes her eyes flicker to the place behind you before she frowns and looks back at you in slight confusion. “Where’s your shadow?” She follows up. You give her a little laugh and roll your eyes, gesturing the general direction of the pool table.

“He’s about to win some pool for me, although he did debate whether or not to come with me instead for at least seven seconds, so you know, we’re improving on the shadow front.”

Penny laughs loud and joyfully, giving a shake of her head at nothing in particular.

“If it weren’t so sickeningly sweet, I’d say good for him, but to be honest, at least I know he’s not going to get into that much trouble when he’s with you,” she says with the sort of wry knowingness one is only allowed to use when married to Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head.

“Why does everyone always assume I’m keeping him out of trouble?” you wonder aimlessly, knowing Penny wasn’t one of those people, and in this rare context, she was also correct about keeping Jake from trouble.

Penny shrugs.

“You and Jake are just about the most perfectly matched duo I’ve seen in a while, but I think you hide your assholery better than he does,” Penny tells you with a laugh. You pout at her.

“You think I have assholery?!” you ask, faux-offended. Penny reaches across the bar to give you a light smack, rolling her eyes at you as she does.

“I saw you at the beach party last weekend, egging that man of yours on to humiliate your poor new friends,”

The memory brings an immediate smile to your face and you let out an involuntary bark of laughter.

“Oh my god, but that guy was such a douche! God, he had no idea what he was in for, challenging us to volleyball! Idiot,” you snicker only a little evilly thinking about how thoroughly you’d wiped the floor with the small group of beach goers who had wound up joining your party, only for you all to realise too late that they were kind of really annoying.

“Do you know what most mature adults do, what the other mature adults did?” Penny questions like you’re a preschooler. You roll your eyes, again. “They ignore school yard bait and try to make peace.” Penny tells you, which you don’t think sounds like the right answer. She looks at you expectantly, as if she’s waiting for you to concede her point. You make a face.

“Penny, those guys sucked, and they were talking such a big game about their volleyball skills. They didn’t even bring a volleyball with them! It was a netball!” you justify. Penny you can tell is only half telling you off, being a not-so-reformed troublemaker herself these days. “Jake and I play v-ball literally every sunday, we didn’t do anything or humiliate anyone on purpose, all we did was accept the invitation of a game.” you don’t believe a word of what you say, but it does sound almost convincing. If Jake were here he’d give you a supportive nod.

Penny lets out a laugh and shakes her head at you.

“Only you and Hangman can take something adorable and sweet and romantic that you do together, and turn it into an opportunity to dunk on some tipsy losers who’d mildly annoyed you,” Penny says, still like she’s scolding you, but the sparkle in her eyes says she would have done the exact same thing had she and Maverick been thirty years old again, and if the mere suggestion of beach volleyball wasn’t cause for a physio visit.

“Besides, I’m glad y'all got to watch us play at last. Since we made the mixed regional team last week we’ve wanted to get you all down to a game sometime,” you say, dodging any accusation of pettiness. Penny nods enthusiastically.

“You know Mav, Amelia and I will be at every one of those games. We’ve got to make sure you guys actually win and don't just tell us you win, to get the free drinks I promised.”

You can't help but smile warmly. It was nice to have a family in San Diego, to be able to rely on people.

“Really, Penny, thank you so much for sponsoring the team, you totally didn’t have to do that, but it means a lot to us, to both of us,” you say gently, reaching out to rest your hand over her. Penny returns your soft smile.

“See, this is the sort of thing Jake would never say, not without a heavy helping of sarcasm, irony or whatever else he thinks makes him less vulnerable.”

You laugh at that and bow your head in agreement.

“Hey, I’m working on it with him. I mean, Pen, he still gets surprised when I just tell him that I like a particular facet of his personality… Anyway, in the meantime, I’m happy to be the emotional go-between.”

Penny gives you a knowing, sympathetic hum.

“That man is everything he says he is and more, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to believe it. I’m glad he has you to show him it’s not just bluster.”

Your eyes momentarily prickle at Penny’s frankness, the words painful to hear from somebody else. Although she’s completely correct, it really does upset you to think of the way Jake must consider himself sometimes, and why you were so determined to adjust the way he clearly thought about certain things, mostly, himself.

“Very little of him is just bluster, and I can’t understand sometimes how he doesn’t actually see that, considering it’s a narrative he made for himself… he’s complicated, but I’m pulling at those threads as they come,” you nibble your lip with a small frown, before dropping your gaze to the bar top. “I just wish he’d see him the way I see him, and the way other people see him…” you pause, and Penny lifts a sardonic, incredulous eyebrow at you. You immediately relent, waving your white flag on that point in the form of holding up your hands. You’d had to come to terms a while ago now with the fact that you’re an exceptionally unreliable source when it comes to how you think others see your boyfriend, Dagger squad notwithstanding. “Okay, maybe not the way other people see him. Pretty sure that's the one thing he’s not mistaken about.”

You both share a soft laugh before Penny straightens, and throws a cursory glance over her shoulder at the seemingly ever growing crowd around the bar, though she still remains clearly unbothered as she turns away from the rush, and shifts her weight to her hip as she looks back at you.

“Anyway, I believe you came for drinks, and I believe I should go get them. The usual?”

You nod, thanking her as she steps away to fetch one bottle that supposedly contained beer, before she fetches your much nicer, far superior sarsaparilla, and waves you off when you attempt to pay.

“My shout, for the two of you making the regional team, and celebrating by destroying some amateurs, because you were bored.” She tells you with a playful wink. You grin widely, cheekily, before shooting her a faux-scolding look.

“Rewarding us for our supposed asshole shenanigans? That’s only gonna reinforce our poor behaviour, Penny! This is exactly why we’ll never learn!” you call out raising the drinks as your excuse for choosing to ignore any self-growth.

You manage to narrowly dodge a ‘rogue’ ice cube that finds itself mysteriously launched at your head, and poke your tongue out at the now distracted bartender, who somehow sees your childishness despite her mixing some brightly coloured cocktail, and spares a moment to throw you the bird, then a blown kiss. You laugh to yourself, as you push away from the bar, feeling quite pleased with yourself, and adjusting your focus to immediately inform your boyfriend of Penny’s definitely very real disapproval of your actions, and not at all conflicting response to the two of you grown adults humiliating some random pricks that in complete honesty, you certainly would have expended far less energy by just ignoring for the rest of the night.

You pause briefly, realising that that is the exact sort of petty assholery that Penny had suggested you hid, and briefly consider that you’re just as bad as Hangman, not Jake. You quickly come to the conclusion that you don’t find that to be a terrible thing, and so shrug to yourself, and continue on, unbothered by such little things like being a peaceful, non confrontational and relaxed person. In your eyes, being chaotic, always down to clown (on others) and quite likely an incredibly petty asshole at times sounded like way more fun, and involved far less unwanted self-introspection, you suspect.

The closer you get to the pool tables, the less you have to work to get through the crowds. All the Navy guys tended to congregate most thickly in this part of the bar, a sea of flight suits and unfamiliar patches greeting you, a fun quirk of which you’d discovered fairly soon after you’d visited Jake on base for the first time a month ago. Although you had no clue who any of these sailors were, or if they knew Dagger in any way, they definitely had become aware of you, and more importantly to this topic, who you were dating.

It's probably the petty-asshole in you again, but you get a sweet kick of satisfaction when you approach anywhere near the Navy guys, and for the first time in any bar ever, you don’t have to make yourself known to anyone for them to get out of your way. It’s almost as though a definitely unknown person may or may not have subtly mentioned (see: threatened to the best of his not-inconsiderable abilities) to any Hard Deck regulars on base, that should you be making yourway over to your regular spot, they are to clear the path and make sure you’re able to walk without going unnoticed by rowdy sailors who can't hear or see you.

You’d be annoyed that someone, surely not anyone you’d know, went to such efforts after just one incident in which you were trying to get past some sailors for much too long, only for one of them to step and into you, making you drop the round of drinks you’d been carrying, but honestly, as a remarkably unintimidating woman who wasn't known for her great assertiveness when not backed up by her six foot actually intimidating Navy Officer boyfriend, you kind of loved that someone, who you really had no clue as to the identity of, had gone out of their way to make sure you’d not have any more issues during what should be an uneventful commute from the bar to the pool table.

You have no idea who could be willing to use their mean side to your benefit, the result of which is the most unbothered walk anyone has ever done in a crowded bar, and a bunch of random sailors you don’t know occasionally giving you polite, stern little nods as you pass, as though their instinct was to salute you, before they remembered that you are not in fact any form of authority to them, but they couldn’t not do something as a sign of respect. You really do wish you could find out who it was that had put the fear of god into these men, if only to give him some really, really good head later.

You finally arrive back at the pool table, the red sea closing back up behind you to form a seemingly dense wall of uniforms, that Payback looks at in clear confusion, then to you, as if you had an explanation you were willing to give. He lifts his brows and you shrug, putting on your best smile.

“Guess they just all thought I was cute or something’!” you say brightly, wishfully. From the direction of the pool table, a familiar voice responds to you.

“Yeah, I guess they did, how polite of them.” Jake says meaningfully, though you don't know what he’s on about, but you suspect is in fact a veiled suggestion-not-threat to the sailors within hearing range.

You wander over to Jake, making sure he's not about to take a shot before you step right into his personal space, and hand him his what apparently passes for beer these days. Jake takes a sip, and thanks you, dropping a brief kiss to your temple. You see him briefly take a look at what you’d ordered, only to receive a scoff.

“And you have the nerve to call my choice in drinks ‘nasty’. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re drinking’ cough medicine.” This is the one facet of Jake’s personality you can’t stand, and have made clear to him you dislike.

“‘Oh look at me, I’m a grown man from Texas who hates Sarsaparilla, how unique and quirky!’” you mimic his voice in a fairly insulting way, it sounds not a thing like him, but that's part of the jab. Jake narrows his eyes and pokes you in the side.

“You ain’t witty, plenty of people hate that shit,” he tells you, frowning. You ignore him.

“Oooh, I claim to be accepting and appreciative of the few differences i have with my girlfriend, but always happens to forget her favourite drink when he goes out for snacks!’” you mock him further.

Jake huffs and is about to open his mouth, no doubt in his defence, but you cut him off, narrowing your eyes.

“You ain’t slick, Seresin.” you say darkly.

Somewhere around you, wherever your friends are, you don’t know, you hear Rooster whistle lowly.

“Hey guys, first fight!” he says mirthfully, but with no real conviction. You snap your head in his direction.

“This is not our first fight,” you correct him with an eye roll, no longer concerned with your petty argument, both you and Jake forming up into a single entity once more to face the rest of the world. Jake’s arm slings casually around your waist and he leans on his hip, into your side.

“Get a load of this, Rooster thinks that's what a couples fight really sounds like,” Jake adds, as if speaking to you conspiratorial, toxic levels of faux-sympathy for his squad mate.

“If that's what he thinks a fight is, I’d hate to see what he thinks a declaration of love sounds like,” you say, mostly for the benefit of Jake and yours little game you’ve started, and not for Rooster, who was already ignoring you both and rolling his eyes as he moves to take his shot.

You glance up at your boyfriend, who is smiling Cheshire-like, but he shoots you a wink when he returns your gaze. He turns toward you then, using both hands, both of which also hold a beer and a pool stick respectively, to grasp your hips and duck his face into your eye line.

“The corner store we go to for snacks doesn’t have sarsaparilla, but it’s kinda a bust most times anyway, let's find a new snack stop, alright?” Jake says, definitely earning him some extra, extra good head later.

“I didn’t think you really were leaving it out on purpose, it's so hit and miss in Cali what stores stock it.” you tell him, grumbling that you couldn't just go to any store and get you some cough syrup.

Jake hums, and steps around you, your convection on pause briefly as he steps up to take his shot, sinking all the balls he's supposed to and not the ones he isn't (you refuse to learn more about pool than absolutely necessary), before he turns back to you as if he’d never stepped away at all, and sweeps you up again.

“I know a place back home where you can get a year's supply, I’ll see if one of my sisters can figure something out,” Jake says softly, as if a little worried the others might hear him being so gentle and tender. The others, while certainly all pretending not to eavesdrop, only wear various expressions reminiscent of the sort generally worn after being shown a baby animal video compilation.

“And how are either of your sisters supposed to get a year's supply of sarsaparilla up to North Island from Austin?” you question, not wanting to bat away his clear intent to apologise for any wrong you may have thought he’d done. Jake’s eyes swing toward the ceiling like you’ve just said something stupid and he won't actually believe it.

“You forget I’m a pilot.” he says as if it's obvious and also a good point. You frown.

“Pretty sure your jet can barely fit you, let alone a bunch of sarsaparilla.” you say, feeling distinctly like you might be about to walk into a verbal trap he’s laid.

Jake huffs, and still keeping his eyes off of you, he all but stomps his foot at your logic and reasoning.

“Whatever, I’ll drive it back if I have to,” he says, even more quiet and even more worried of the others hearing him. You refrain from ‘aww’ing dramatically, and instead cup his cheek.

“You can just apologise or like, use your words you know. You don't have to communicate with me via intense acts of devotion and service.” you give him a little smile to let him know you were being serious, despite your light tone. Jake’s eyes fall on you at last and he purses his lips.

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“But driving around forty hours round trip to Texas and back again all for some cough syrup does?”

“Yes.”

You consider him for a few moments, but relent, and release him of his obligation to make eye contact during vulnerability, patting his cheek lovingly.

“Alright, well, if that's what you’d like to do, Jake,” you say, not fully understanding why words aren’t his thing in this one aspect of his life, when in every other area he excels in anything verbal, damn-near silver-tongued. But you also don't have to understand it, you just had to know it, and then see his displays of love and affection no matter how odd or unconventional or totally over the top and ridiculous, for what they were.

Jake takes a few moments to process the amicable end of that discussion, seemingly expecting a fight or more pushback, but you only nudge him, to draw him from his distraction.

“Hey Hangman, aren’t you supposed to be winning this for me?” you ask playfully. Making the blond frown at you as he looks between the table and your face.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he asks back, making you pause. You glance back at the table with an earnest frown and after you seemingly take much to long to decipher the secrets of the little round balls, Jake chuckles, stepping up beside you and wrapping you up in one arm, pulling you in as he continues to laugh at you (you retract one extra off of the ‘extra extra good head’ you were planning on giving him later) and kisses your temple, his chuckle nothing sweet and instead completely, totally, and all-consumingly infuriatingly smug (Review by His Girlfriend).

“You have no idea what you’re looking at, do you?” he asks, quieter than you’re expecting, so only you hear. You glare, and answer him with an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, darlin’.”

You now glare directly up at him as he watches you with a mix of genuine assholery and softer playfulness that lets you know he’s fully aware of the former trait making a rare  appearance in reaction to you.

Sometimes, you almost wish he’d go back to ignoring you. It had to be better than suffering this. You didn't deserve it, you were an occasionally good person, right?

Jake draws you back from your silent pleading for a time machine, and he leans down toward you, smolderingly self-satisfied with how his little display has gotten under your skin, and his expression combined with his much more intimate proximity suddenly brings to mind that night several months ago now at the club, the night that Jake had paid attention to you for the very first time, and you’d understood clearly what it must feel like to go up against Hangman in a dogfight, what it felt like to be in his direct line of sight. 

Jake plasters on an identical smile to the one he has in your memory, but unlike that night, he gains an evil glint to his eyes, which you find out the reason for mere seconds later, when he gently boops your nose in a manner that tells you he definitely knows has lost him all extra good head privileges for the night.

Apparently, he deems it worth it, and sadly, you can't help but be swept up by him, rolling your eyes in mock frustration, but unable to keep from grinning up at him like a lovesick fool, waiting for him to finish his line.

Jake’s smile turns momentarily sweet, but he quickly covers back up with his bluster and fake mega-douche routine you actually definitely loved.

“Let ol’ Hangman take care of it for ya’.”

[merlucide]

The matchmaker has found a match……

your match is…. (REQ4)

HIORI YO!

x an Introverted, stubborn, thoughtful, + responsible gn!reader

I believe you two would be a great match!!

Both of you are rather reserved, and I think you too have a lot in common ! (aside from being a sadist…..unless-)

I think you guys would fall under the Highschool sweethearts trope <3

You both shared a few common classes together and sort-of became friends:)

Hiori admired your thoughtfulness towards your friends + Family and your flexibility.

And *poof* Hiori had a crush on you!

He asked you out on an evening date to the strip mall, which you accepted >:3

There was little boutiques and restaurants, he led you to the arcade and payed for all of the machines/games.

He let you choose the majority of the arcade games, which included the claw machine

Hiori tried to win you that ugly-cute panda that clearly had a factory malfunction, unfortunately he was running broke by the failed attempts.. 🫠

The games he chose was those shooter games, which obviously, he got the highscore in it every time.

Even though the claw machine was a sad fail, with all of the tickets he won on the shooter games, you can pick out a prize!

You choose the [ prize ] and left the arcade

He then took you next door to the Ice Cream Parlor and ordered a chocolate cone-cup for himself and a [ fav flavour ] for you ^^

You both walk around the mall with your ice cream and mindlessly chat, then start heading home

Hiori walked you back to your home (since it was dark, but he normally walked you home anyway^^) and right before you turn away he softly says “Wait,”

His eyes are focused on yours as he took a deep breath before saying his next words

”Listen.. I think it’s best if I come clean about this now.. um, I having feelings for you [Y/N]. And I have for a while. ..I need to know if you feel the same or not. I understand if it’s unrequited,”

You’re just kinda like ‘😧 ?!’

He just awkwardly-nervously stands there, his face blank and honest, contrasting with his frantic tapping foot lmao

You tell him that the feeling is mutual and he asks if you’d do him the honors of being his S/O :)

He offers you a polite kiss on the hands and runs off (he definitely yelled ‘ YESS!’ When he was far enough away lmao)

Now that’s how [Y/N] and Hiori got together 😌 now for general HCS!

Movie nights are definitely a thing for you guys, you created a wheel where it picks the movie and snacks you guys watch/eat (you both put your favorite movies/snacks in it ofc)

Hiori is a sucker for any type of horror, so hope you aren’t scared of it!

jk he wouldn’t watch any movie w/ you where you would be scared 😌 he likes action movies too :D

Will seriously watch anything you want though

Also video game dates!! again he played like only shooter games (+ Minecraft) so if that’s not your vibe ..😭

You guys have a cute lil Minecraft world and he made a zoo full of villagers and kept them in cages💀

also KNOWS how to use redstone, like yalls base is insane

your beds are obvi side-by-side <3

Super supportive of your hobbies!! You have a game? He’s coming!! Get a good serve in? He’s cheering!! Ref calls red flag? He’s booing!!

Sometimes he does struggle to match your enthusiasm due to his experiences with sports, but he is happy you enjoy it :)

He would talk vent about it every now and then, but wouldn’t want his issues to become ‘your’ problem :(

Gets on you for when you neglect yourself !! Acts like a nagging mom about it lol. He gets real serious about your mental and psychical state, saying how ‘just because you are always helping your friends, doesn’t excuse you neglecting yourself. You can’t keep giving if you don’t take care of you too, okay?’

he means well 🙏

You guys get into petty fights now and then, but that’s pretty much it. Obviously arguments are inescapable but for you both it’s pretty rare

likes slow days with you, you do your own thing for a bit and he does his

He really loves the comfort of knowing you’re there, even though you aren’t touching or speaking.

Hiori is probs a 6/10 on the affectionate scale, he does need touch but it doesn’t have to be dramatic, just simple pinky holding + a cheek kiss is enough for him :)

Loves giving you piggyback rides if you let him :3

Oh your feet hurt? Well hop on!

Loves doing little things for you, hand him that orange babe, he’ll peel it for you and remove all of the white stuff 😌

also his hands are so soft- he has a few calluses but still so soft. His nails are perfectly trimmed all the time, chipped nails? Don’t know her

— actually I lied, he bites his nails like CRAZY. they are so short he doesn’t give them the opportunity to get chipped 💀

If you ever wanted to paint his nails he wouldn’t argue :) just please, no greens or oranges

In conclusion, yours and Hiori’s relationship is pretty smooth and understanding! He gets you and you get him :)

(this was written b4 the egoist bible came out so 💀)

runner ups!

Kageyama Tobio

Kunigami Rensuke (pre wc)

Reo Mikage

(for the anonnie who requested this! hope this met your expectations!! also sorry if you don’t like Hiori or wtv 😭)

[mothwingwritings]

Look, I don’t think this would ever happen (if anything I think the two of them are/would be great buddies and would bond over their mutual love of the Warrior of Light/you), but I am a little obsessed with the idea of G’raha and Aymeric being so jealous of each other’s relationship with you that it births an intense rivalry between the two of them.

I’m talking childish levels of banter, one step away from the two of them grabbing either one of your arms and beginning a tug of war match. They would conceal their jealousy during any important meetings, when it’s time to work they are all business and decorum, too focused on trying to impress their hero with their prowess and tact to worry about what the other is doing. But afterwards, before the assembly splits up and everyone is just milling around sharing pleasantries? Oh, it’s on.

G’raha talking just a smidge too loudly about all the fun and exciting adventures he has gotten to share with you (and will continue to share with you far into the future), making sure Aymeric is within earshot so he can clearly hear each little intimate detail. Aymeric in turn excusing  himself from whoever he is speaking with so he can interject into the conversation, standing just a little too close to you as he does so. He places his hand on the small of your back while he regales the party with tales of his time together with you, recanting with a fond twinkle in his eye all the time you spent together as you brought about the end of the Dragonsong War. He focused most of his time elaborating on the moments he spent alone with you and the greatness the two of you were able to achieve together, how well you both complimented each other.

They both get under each other’s skin so easily. G’raha is essentially living Aymeric’s dream life, getting to go on countless daring adventures all over the world (and beyond) with the person he treasures the most. And Aymeric intimately knows you in ways G’raha does not, as Aymeric has been a beloved companion and confidante in your life before G’raha even had a presence. For so long G’raha simply existed as an unreachable, detached entity from you, only able to dream of an eventual reunion (that on most days seemed like an unobtainable dream). He feels like he’s constantly playing catch up, while Aymeric consistently frets that he is being left behind. Both men know sides of their hero that the other does not, and both have experienced moments with you that the other will never share, and that gets to them.

Of course all the other scions notice this and tease them both about it mercilessly. Despite the heavy handedness of it all and their desire to always one up the other, both are always exhibiting remarkably good behavior around you to the point where you yourself are a little clueless as to the extent of this rivalry. And they work hard to keep it that way! No sense in looking like a fool in front or the person they love and admire the most, even if they are hell bent on being as petty as possible to each other behind the scenes to claim the top spot in your heart.

(Which is silly, you love and cherish both equally! :) No matter how much that impartiality may irritate them.)

[goddess-of-bubblegum]

Hate annons? Really hon? [Aka my opinion with new evidence] (y'all might need a snack for this)

okay, mod speaking. So. I know I said I didn't want any drama on this blog.

BUT THE MOMENT I FOUND OUT MY FRIEND WAS STILL GETTING HATE ANNONS , IM GOING FULL ON DETECTIVE MODE!

This post is about @/unhinged-waterlilly, and oooh boy am I going to be getting so much hate for this. But. I am fine with hate asks. Just don't be a coward and don't put annon on. I am a minor, and if you decide to harass me about helping a friend, here we go.

My points against her:

1 she sent, and still sends hate annons (which hurts his mental health)

2 she accused jacks bf (freddy) as being fake

So. I saw a post a while back where "lily" said things about the jack situation, and I thought it was fair. UNTIL I REACHED THE PART WHERE SHE SAID THAT JACK DIDN'T DESERVE ANYTHING HE HAS look, I know that he hurt you with the AU , it hurt me too, but going so far to say that he doesn't deserve anything he has??? That's petty and mean.

Not to mention that he was in a shit mental state at the time he made the AU. Which obviously does not excuse anything, but it atleast explains it.

also, onto evidence number 1:

HATE ANNONS;

Now, this is just one of 3 hate annons Jack got this week. Yes, Jack is aware that he has hurt people, yes he is actively striving to better, so sending these hate annons won't help Jack not being , and I quote : "a depressed little attention seeking bitch" he has owned up to his mistakes, and I've advised him to put the explanation on his blog. And since he is try I ng to be better, he is focusing on himself, his mental health, and moving on.

BECAUSE MOVING ON IS HEALTHY

Me and jacks others moots are aware that no one forgot what he did , that he hurt people. But all that you can achieve by hurting him is a short adrenaline rush, that won't be worth it coke a few days. He is actively trying to become a better person

ALSO I am aware that since this is an annon, it's hard to prove this was actually lilly. But if you were to compare this to her other posts about Jack, you'd see it is very close.

Numero 2

ACUSSING FREDDY OF BEING FAKE:

There were multiple posts accusing Freddy, jacks bf, of not being a real person. Now. All of jacks moots know he is real, due to Jack making posts about him, and him telling us about him and what happened. And honestly? It's plausible that Freddy knew how to use tumblr , because it only took me a day to figure it out

Okay, and now this:

okay, let me get this straight. What jack did was wrong. We all agree on that , including Jack. But he was in a shit mental state while doing it, and he wasn't thinking clearly. Jack is trying to improve, Jack is trying to better himself, Jack is moving on and like a few posts say we all should.

But we can't truly move on 'till Jack stops getting hate, till we apologise and understand and hear out, not necessarily forgive his actions

ALSO

From: @eligha-child-of-hades

A while ago when I recently started this account I got an ask with a link. The link led to @/unhinged-waterlily account and their intro post which had something about the MISTAKE that Jack made.

But with the ask, I didn't click it so I answered with a; ?

Bc I don't trust random links.

They sent another ask with the same link saying this exact thing; 'I suggest you read it. Better to know who you interact with.'

She says this, but she fails to inform others that she's hate bombing and hurting Jack.

Woukd you rather rp with someone whose trying to change? Or someone whi is causing someone more harm?

I'll be getting hate for this. I know I will be harassed and sent hate annons. But it will be worth it. If he can move on, but you can't, if you hold on to anger, and he doesn't.

Then aren't you also doing bad things?

@sillypuppetmeister @braydons-world @penelope-is-waiting @bast-the-best26 @reyna4ever @gaygirldoodles

[a5rora]

❤️‍🔥 | Old Flames

billy the kid x rich f!reader

word count; 2k words || dividers by @firefly-graphics

ch. 𝐈𝐈

SYPNOSIS༄In Billy’s lonesome world, comes along his significant former lover from his adolescence that he faces once again after being separated from one another. After not being with you for over a decade, he doesn’t know how to face you when he has begun a life of crime, a wanted man with many enemies. He doesn’t want to lose his lover once more, but could she ever love him along with all his flaws? Will their love prevail despite the reputation of Billy the kid?

content warning: FLUFF, angst, eventual SMUT, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of memory loss, substance abuse¿, ollinger, mentions of alcoholism, flashbacks intended, smoking, mentions of catholicism, storytelling is inspired by the original show’s major elements/events. (billy’s birth name is henry mccarty)

Suspense collectively consumed each man in the room when the game of poker finally reached the showdown. Each remaining player placed their hands one by one until the last turn to reveal his cards was Billy. All attention was on Billy the kid.

The men watched closely with anticipation as Billy slowly placed his cards to reveal a winning hand of royal flush. The players made distinctive reactions of defeat in response to their losses.

Billy was known to be a lucky gambler among his peers but no matter how good he was, he only gambled occasionally.

He grabbed his winnings off of the table and quickly prepared to leave for another drink.

The night was the same as always. It became a habit for Billy to drink his thoughts away. It felt like his sober mind couldn’t bare the worries of the growing rivalry between Tunstall’s and Murphy’s businesses. In a room with so much liveliness, his loneliness gnawed in his chest. Billy felt lonelier, noticing his friendship with Jesse become more distant since the beginning of their time working for Murphy…

Until he saw you.

Billy couldn’t believe his eyes the moment they landed on you, there you stood metres away from the gambling den.

The lovely sleeveless silk dress you wore fit perfectly on your body, hugging the curves of your figure.

A crafted corset that matched the hues of your skirt and floral lace brushing over your smooth shoulders. His focused gaze fell upon your face and the sentiments of adulation in his soul grew for you.

It was like he fell in love with you once more.

The tempo of his heartbeat rose along with the temperature of his cheeks when he saw your smile. Billy pushed away the feelings of discomfort when he noticed Jesse beside you, clearly being friendly with you.

He slightly turned away, trying to distract himself from the current thoughts invading his mind. Billy reminded himself of the time you had spent together, growing up with each other before your individual circumstances separated you from one another. The little rebels that you once were. He remembered when you both made it a habit to venture into the wild despite the countless warnings that your parents had given you.

A particular moment stuck out to him…

The bright sunshine in the afternoon transitioned into a faint evening. It was soon that your parents would notice that you travelled farther that you both should have.

“Henry!” y/n called out from the trees. But the boy stood still, watching the thieves above the hill as they ambush the farmers who stood their ground by the stables. He was dangerously close to the hill, a clear witness to the petty crime.

“Please Henry, come here now!” y/n pleads once more, startling the boy and bringing him out of his trance. His azure eyes find hers, he begins rushing into the forest.

You took his hand as he got closer and pulled him towards you. You sat down on your knees beneath the fremont trees and gestured for him to sit down beside you.

You looked to him, his gaze focused straight into space. Bringing your hand to his cheek, you turn his face towards you and wipe the teardrops from his sad, doe eyes.

You bring his forehead to yours and he takes your hands in his. “It’ll be okay Henry, I promise.”

Ever since that occurence, you had an unspoken devotion of loyalty for one another.

Before his immigrant family moved away, you and Billy made a promise to find each other again in this lifetime. But over time, his faith and hope diminished slowly after he lost you along with the latter of his loved ones.

Now here you were, walking and smiling before his eyes. Before this moment, his life seemed to be nothing but desperate and lonely. However, being in your presence made him feel like the hope that he had lost long ago returned to his heart. Billy’s mind was piqued by the irresistible urge to be near you, to meet you and seek refuge in your comfort.

But his present reality prevented him from fulfilling his wish of coming up to you. The aching feeling grew in his heart and flooded his soul. He felt guilty from the betrayal of his promise to you while you stood there, oblivious and looking so beautiful.

Laughter and chatter repeated throughout the entire saloon as you followed your friend Jessie who accompanied you to the bar, “How does it feel to be free y/n?” the blonde smiles at you which you return.

You exhaled and leaned your elbows on the bar counter behind you, “Feels amazin’- Girl like me can only dream of being this free forever.” A genuine sigh left your mouth, in contrast to your previously bright and bubbly mood a few minutes ago.

Your friend frowns slightly at you out of sympathy. The fading conversation between you and Jessie was interrupted by a tall cowboy who entered from the other room.

He towered over you both and you take notice of his wavy brunette hair as he lowers his head to take off his hat.

When he straightened himself, your eyes met with his familiar blue pair. His intense gaze trapped the air in your lungs and you swallowed, trying to remind yourself of the confidence you walked into this bar with.

You were proud of yourself for not getting caught sneaking out from your balcony tonight compared to your weekend night two weeks ago.

At the time of the incident, you didn’t have the best luck when you were sneaking past the gate doors. Your brother having caught you just after you managed to pass by the gate entrance.

Luckily tonight, you were here to have fun. You promised not to be bounded by the standards of your status.

You wanted to celebrate your newfound freedom and feel comfortable in your appearance.

The brunette did not hesitate with his wandering gaze over your body. As much as he wanted to, he wanted to upkeep his appearance as a gentleman towards you of course.

Jessie wrapped his arm towards his friend and brings him closer to you. “This is my good friend William.” you tilted your head, confused by the feelings that consumed you when your eyes met and every moment leading up to this one. You had seen him before but you were unsure why and how he was so familiar to you.

“Names’ Y/n, Y/f/n.” you introduced, your mouth couldn’t help but to return his handsome smile.

Your heart fluttered and so did your lashes when you looked up in his eyes. You shared a moment of awe towards each other, you were lost in his captivating blue eyes.

Jesse stood awkwardly between you two, “Y’all know each other or sumn?” Feeling uncomfortable from the silence that your moment with Billy distracted you from. You shook your head no to answer his question.

Billy looked away and placed his hat back onto his head. “No, but sure would’ve been nice to know such a pretty girl like you.” You pressed your lips to a smile, feeling your heart sieze from his words.

“Luckily you’ve got lots of time to get to know me William.”

“Y’can call me Billy.” He offered. Billy’s usual cold and inscrutable demeanour was swept away when it came to you. A tender smile appearing across his face. “I’ll take you up on that cariña.”

“Well, I’ll leave ya two lovebirds to mingle.” Jessie chuckles, taking a sip of his drink before going in the direction Billy came from.

“So where’d you come from?” He quickly asks you before ordering a drink for himself. His own curiosity getting to him. He needed to know for sure that it was you, not necessarily in the right mind to feed into the thoughts that swarmed his head. It was only your answer that could give him the clarity that he was searching for.

“Damn Billy,” you giggled, “buy the girl a drink first.” You teased, nudging his arm and he grins.

“Hmm, well my family’s from New Mexico originally but we moved to New York for a bit where my daddy started a coal business back there.” You started and leaned your back against the counter, noticing Billy’s concentration on you and what you had say. You felt his sincere reverence towards you and his character seemed unlike most men- If not every man that you usually meet in the towns you had stayed in previously.

You exhaled, “Then we moved from town to town quite a bit to grow our business.” He nodded, his continued fixation on you starting to make you feel slightly nervous from how he acted towards you. “My brother and I are just followin’ my old man to take care of him wherever he goes and wherever the business takes us.” You exhaled before continuing. “Took us to here now, in Lincoln.” You explained, swirling the drink in your hand before finishing the rest of it.

“I see.” He finishes his drink before asking, “You like it here?”

You played with the cup in your hands. “I think so. I’m just startin’ to like it a lot more.” you flirt with a smile and his lips beam with shyness.

“Would you like another?” He points to your glass in your hands.

You grinned, “How could I turn down a drink from you?”

He smiles at you, ordering your drink for you like a gentleman. He grabs your drinks from the bartender, gesturing you to a seat beside him. You sit down on the barstool, Billy pushes your glass closer to you and you take it. “What about you, Billy?” You look to him beside you, swallowing his drink before clearing his throat.

“What’d you like to know?” He gazed at you with an inscrutable expression.

You bit your bottom lip, “Where are you from then?”

Your question didn’t come as a surprise but it still made his heart ache to know that you didn’t remember.

You didn’t recognize him. Which meant you didn’t remember the time you had spent together in your early adolescence. He tried to hold onto his hope but he had himself to blame for not reminding you of those memories sooner.

He drove away the doubts in his mind and turned to you. “My family immigrated from Ireland way back.” He answered shortly, in contrast to the plentiful conversation you gave him and you frown.

“What do you do? You a cowboy too?” You ask out of curiosity. But before he could reply, Jesse storms out of the saloon, he pushes the doors that start swinging hard and bang hard against the walls. The hinges squeak from the impact. “I’ll be right back.” Billy says to you before following after his friend outside the bar. You nod and let out a quiet sigh as you watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Hey beautiful, did Billy leave ya on your own?” A man said from behind you, making you flinch.

The man was Bob Ollinger. You turn to face him completely and you smelled a swift of liquor from his mouth. You tilt your head at the drunk man, “Y’know anything about what’s happening outside?” He looks at you for a moment, Ollinger seemed like he was still trying to comprehend your words. That was all you needed to confirm that he is way too drunk. You blinked repeatedly for a second before your eyes settle to the ground.

Ollinger ignores your question, “C’mon with me. I wouldn’t leave you here just by yourself.”

It didn’t matter anymore what little friendship you developed with the guy, you didn’t want to be disrespected due to his intoxication. “Best you go somewhere else Ollinger.” You drank the last of the alcohol in your glass as he stands there dumbfounded.

“Y’gettin smart on me girl, that it?” He challenged with a sour tone in his growl.

“You can go on your way to bother another poor woman with your vices.” You spat, earning chuckles from the men and women around you.

“Don’t be a fucking tease you little bitch.” There went the last bit of respect you had for him, along with your unrequited friendship. Ollinger definitely did not see you as your friend and to your trepidation, he grabs your arm and pulls you off your seat.

You wince from his hurtful grip, “Fuck off!” Tears starting to pool in your eyes and blur the corners of your vision. You came to the realization that no reaction or intervention would ever come from anybody that watched you struggle.

You scream as Billy abruptly strikes a punch across Ollinger’s face, his body falling to the floor on impact. You could see the blood immediately coming out of his nose when Ollinger picks himself up from the ground. A dark smirk appears across his face. “Sorry didn’t know she was your whore.” You watched in horror as Billy punches him once more. The two drunk men proceeded to attack one another with punches while you shouted for Billy to stop.

Ollinger’s words made your chest twinge in pain. You didn’t want to be just one of Billy’s sluts, although you reckon that they probably enjoyed it.

You tried your best to remember why he looked so familiar.

But what stuck out to you was the longing feeling in your chest of being in his presence and more.

However, that’s when you remember where you recognize Billy from. The same poster you saw prior to meeting Billy tonight was plastered along the pillar that stood next to the saloon doors.

A wanted poster for the outlaw, Billy the kid.

-

thank you for reading <33 this is my first fic on tumblr

im also taking requests for any billy drabbles & oneshots ;)

this will be a short series, follow for pt2! it’s currently in the drafts and ill make sure to post it before finals lolol pls reblog it means a lot <3

[thetriumphantpanda]

one kiss is all it takes | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Four

Chapter Summary | All of the tension between you & Javi comes to a head when you're gathered at the Peña ranch to celebrate Chucho's birthday.

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food & alcohol, some angst, heavy on the flirting, discussion of drugs & the drug trade but nothing else.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note |  Well. I am having far too much fun with these guys. I hope you guys are still enjoying this. Just wanted to give a huge shoutout to @undercoverpena for helping me brainstorm this chapter and figure it out when I was struggling and for just being my biggest hype woman. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

It’s Chucho’s birthday and it feels like the entirety of Laredo has descended on the Peña ranch. He’s currently sitting on one of the chairs that’s been set out on the back porch, beer in hand, talking to some of his friends from the ranch association. You’ve already been over, wished him a happy birthday with a kiss on the cheek, and pressed a small gift bag into his hand from the rest of the family. The bag is sitting between his feet, and you know he’ll take it in with him later to open on his own. Never one for a fuss, was Chucho. 

Other townsfolk are walking around, or standing in smaller groups, drinking or eating from the spread of food everyone had contributed to. You’re currently sat with your mom, who is talking to some of the women she works with. It’s dull conversation, but you try your best to look at least semi-interested when a question is thrown your way. You’re focused on something else though. Your eyes have been searching through the sea of people for one person, and one person only. Javi. And he’s nowhere to be seen. You bring the bottle of beer you’ve been drinking to your lips, tip it up, but find it empty. 

“I’m just going to get another drink.” You mumble to excuse yourself from the group around you. 

They all smile at you but quickly return to their conversations once you start stepping away. The relief from the cool interior of the house is welcome, as you open the fridge and root through it for another drink. You close the fridge door gently, plucking the magnetic bottle opener off the front when you hear muffled voices coming from down the hall. 

“You know,” You can just make out, so you take gentle steps to the edge of the kitchen to hear better, “If you were looking for something else, we could always use you back on the force.” It’s your dad, and you bet you know exactly who he’s talking to. 

“Go back to shining lights into teenagers’ cars whilst they’re making out and busting petty criminals?” That’s definitely Javi, “That’s not really my scene anymore.” 

You can hear your dad sigh a little, “It’s not really like that anymore,” He offers, “You must know by now we’ve got some kind of drug epidemic here, we can’t seem to crack it, I bet you could blow this whole thing wide open for us.” 

Javi scoffs, you press yourself further into the wall, knowing you should walk away, this isn’t your conversation to hear, “Even more reason for me to stay away,” He answers, “I couldn’t crack it down there, and if it’s anything like that here, it’s going to go far deeper than you could ever imagine.” 

Your dad sighs again, louder this time, because he’s clearly fighting a losing battle, “Well, the offer is there, think about, huh?” 

All Javi does is grunt in response, which you think is akin to something like ‘thanks, but no thanks’, then you hear footsteps coming down the hallway. You don’t move quickly enough to dart back through the doors but do manage to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible at the kitchen island as your dad rounds the corner. 

“I didn’t know you were in here.” He speaks, fishing his own new drink out of the fridge.

“Just came to get another drink,” You smile, trying to make your voice loud enough that Javi can hear that you’re inside too, “It’s pretty hot out there.” 

Your dad clinks his bottle with yours as he moves to head back outside, “Cool off, but don’t hide away in here, okay?” 

You nod and smile as he heads back outside, but you don’t make a move to follow him. After last week, when Javi pressed his lips to your cheek, you haven’t been able to think of much else. Surely, if he’d come all the way to fetch you, brought you food and kissed your cheek, that must mean something? You’d felt absolutely crazy trying to explain it to Liv, recounting your conversation, trying to get her advice on what it meant. She’d been entirely unhelpful, telling you that you were reading too much into it, but she had told you Victor was nice, so you weren’t in the habit of trusting her at the moment. 

You stand at the kitchen island for a while, praying that he would come to you, talk to you, even just say hello, anything would do, but he doesn’t. He stays wherever he is, doing whatever he’s doing, leaving you standing there like someone had stood you up. You sigh, pick up your beer and head back outside. 

It’s probably an hour later, you’re back sitting with your mom and her friends, when he emerges from the house, his own drink in hand. He makes eye contact with you, but when you smile at him, he doesn’t return it, just turns and walks over to the first group of people he can find, almost completely ignoring your presence. It hurts, is what you think, makes your heart sink a little. 

You see him a few times over the next couple of hours as people start slowly heading off. It’s still warm outside, but the sun is starting to set, painting the ranch in a soft orange glow. Your mom and dad left about an hour ago, leaving you where you there to help tidy up. The plan had been for all of you to stay, but your mom had indulged in one too many glasses of wine and needed to nap. 

The crowd had thinned out significantly now, so you think it’s a good a time as any to try and tidy up the porch a bit. There’s a rubbish bag hanging from the railing, there’s a few actually, that you think Javi must have set out in order to keep mess to a minimum, so you start picking up the empty bottles and used paper plates, stuffing them in until it’s full. You move some of the furniture around, back to how you know Chucho likes it. 

“You don’t have to help with this.” 

You turn around, and for the first time Javi is looking at you, talking to you, but still won’t quite meet your eyes, choosing to busy himself with gathering the trash from the other side of the porch. 

“I don’t mind,” You shrug, walking over to help him out a little, picking up some more paper plates to shove into the bag, “Doesn’t seem right to leave you to tidy the place on your own after allowing half the town to come over.” 

He doesn’t really respond after that, silently shuffles around, refusing to meet your eyes. It drives you wild, because there’s no way you’d made up the signals he’d been giving in the car. No-one kisses your cheek if they don’t want you. 

Once the porch is clear of clutter, Javi makes a beeline for the trash bag that’s full, leaning down to pick it up. You follow his movements, reaching down to circle his wrist with your hand, trying to be gentle with him. You’re not expecting him to snatch his arm away from you like you’d just branded him with a hot poker. He even steps back away from you, turning his back slightly, although you can see one of his hands come to his mouth, fingers running over his facial hair and down his chin, other hand on his hip. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘don’t’. 

You stand there, dumbfounded if anything. Why is he being so different with you? Hot, angry tears are forming across your waterline, because you’re embarrassed, embarrassed that you’d played into him leading you on. To try and hide the fact you’re about to cry, you turn on your heel, stomping, albeit quite dramatically, around the side of the porch when you feel him grab your wrist, pulling you around so you’re facing him. Nowhere to hide now, you think, giving him your face, letting him see the tears he’s caused. 

“What?” You spit, tearing your hand out of his grip, much like he’d done to you just moments before. 

“Just… wait.” He says hands up in defense. 

So you do, you stand there and wait, shifting your weight from foot to foot, watching as he leans back more of his weight on his back leg, hand rest on the top of his jeans, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of what to say. 

“You know what?” You scoff, “I’m so fucking embarrassed, Javi,” You can feel your bottom lip start to wobble, more frustrated tears threatening to fall, “I thought-” You start, running a hand over your cheek to wipe away the tears that are forming, “I thought I was picking up on these signals between us,” You motion your hand between the two of you, “Thought maybe you felt the same way about me, I mean, who kisses someone’s cheek and tells them there’s nothing wrong with them if they don’t mean it, right?” You can hear yourself, sniffling through the tears, voice getting quicker and higher in pitch as he just… stands there, “God,” You chuckle, “I really thought I’d stop embarrassing myself at some point, but clearly fucking not.” 

He's still not saying anything, and you’re sick to death of making yourself feel and look like a fool in front of him, so you turn on your heel again, walking away, when yet again his hand circles your wrist and pulls you back to him, but this time, you don’t stop by just turning around to him, he’s tugging at you, pulling you closer, and then all of a sudden his lips are on yours. It’s quick, almost over before you can even register what’s happened, but there was no mistaking the feel of his lips pressed to yours. The tickle of the hair on his upper lip against the skin under your nose. 

When he pulls away, you’re dumbfounded, mouth open in shock, “You kissed me.” Is all you can say, voice high with shock. 

“I did.” 

“Then what the fuck was all that back there?” You ask, incredulous and confused, head spinning with what’s going on. 

All he does is shrug, seemingly unable to explain himself, which makes you more annoyed. Is he fucking with you? All you wish he would do is tell you what the fuck is going on in his brain, what he’s thinking, why he’s behaving in this way. 

“Tell me,” You demand, “Tell me, or I’m going to get in my car and leave.” 

And he’s standing there, and you think you can see the cogs working behind his eyes. His mouth is doing that thing again where it opens and closes without him saying anything. He brings a hand up to brush over his brow, but he still doesn’t say anything. You’d had enough. If he didn’t have the decency to be frank with you, like you’d been with him, then you guess you had your answer. 

For the third time that evening, you turn around and start walking, heading for the steps at the front of the house. He doesn’t try and grab your wrist this time, doesn’t try and touch you, but you can hear his footsteps behind you. You can see your car in front of you, you reach into the pocket of your shorts, fingers hitting the keys when you finally hear his voice. 

“I’m trying to be good, alright?” He calls out to you, “Better,” he offers then, “I’m trying to be better and I just…. Fuck, I hate this.” 

And really that’s all you needed. You needed him to try. To try and explain his behaviour, to tell you why he was giving you these mixed signals. So you turn, walk the few steps back towards him, take his face in your hands and plant a kiss right on his lips. 

It’s like it breaks the dam that the two of you had been trying to hold back, because his hands are on your back, one resting just above the waistband of your shorts, the other fisting at the material between your shoulder blades as he really kisses you this time. Your hands drop to the collar of his shirt, pulling him in closer as you open your mouth against his, let his tongue finally touch yours, pressing your body as close to his as you can possibly get it. You can feel the tension of your shirt being pulled from behind. It’s like he has to fist the material because he wants to touch you, wants to put his hands on your skin under the material, but knows he can’t. 

When you pull away, both breathless, he leans down, rests his forehead to yours, eyes closed. 

“I don’t want you to be good, Javi,” You whisper, “I want you to want me.” 

He opens his eyes then, big chocolate orbs that are pleading with you, “I do,” He answers honestly, “I want you so much, querida, and that’s the problem.” 

“I know.” You try and soothe, but really, it’s all lost now isn’t it, there’s no going back from here. 

Almost like you both finally realise you’re in the open air at the same time, you both step away from each other. Your hands coming to pull your shirt back into position, Javi doing the same with the collar of his shirt. You run your thumb over your bottom lip where you can feel the wetness from the kiss, wiping it away. 

“I should go,” You say softly, motioning your head to the car, and he doesn’t argue, because he knows you should too, because if you stay here there’s only one thing that can happen, “See you around.” 

Like it’s now his signature move, his hand circles your wrist, turning you back to him, “Call me?” He asks, “Call me tonight?” 

You smile, “Okay, I’ll speak to you later.” 

You weren’t really sure how long you were supposed to wait to call him. You got in and your mom was already in bed out for count, your dad sat in front of the TV, cold beer in hand, watching some kind of sports. 

“You help Javi clean up?” He asks as you throw your keys in the dish on the side table. 

You try not to bite at your lip, try not to focus on the heat rising across your cheek, “I did,” You confirm, walking over to the fridge to pick out your own drink, “Most people had already thrown their stuff away, so it didn’t take long.” 

You sit with him for a while, sipping slowly on the drink, trying to quell the memories of his lips on yours, the way he had tasted and the way his hand had fisted so tightly at the back of your shirt. It was everything you’d wanted it to be, all those years of wondering what it would be like, and now you knew, and all you wanted was to know what else he could do, how else he could make you feel. 

Once your drink is done, you give your dad a chaste kiss on the cheek, bid him goodnight, and spend the next hour pacing, trying to concentrate on reading, before you give up. You reach into your bag and pull out the card. Run your fingers over the name embossed there. You pick up the receiver on your nightstand, punch the number in and press call. 

This time, he answers on the first ring, like he’s been sitting around waiting for you to call, just as much as you have. 

“Hello.” You speak timidly, leaning back onto the pillows of your bed, switching the handset to the other ear so you’ll be able to hear anyone wandering around outside. 

“Evening, hermosa.” He croons back to you, but doesn’t offer anything else. 

You sit there for a moment, listening to him breath down the phone, reveling in the fact that he’s doing the same, until it gets to be a little awkward. You start speaking right at the same time as he does, which makes you both pause to let the other carry on, but it only works to make you both laugh. 

“You go first.” He prompts. 

You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry,” You muse, “For how I was earlier.”

“You don’t need to say sorry,” He replies softly, “I’m sorry for being shit at talking about things.” 

There’s another pause, but it’s more comfortable this time, “So…” You trail off, “You kissed me.” It’s whispered, almost like it’s some terribly sordid secret, which you suppose it is really. 

“I did,” He confirms, and you’d like to think he’s smiling on the other end of the phone, “Wanted to do more than just kiss you.” He admits at the end. 

“Oh,” It comes out a little like a gasp, “Why didn’t you?” 

“I told you,” Javi replies with a little sigh, “I’m trying to be good, trying to be a gentleman.” 

“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” You offer. 

“What do you want me to be?” 

You giggle a little, “You sound like I’m paying you to say these things to me,” You hear him scoff at the other end, “I just want to know what you wanted to do to me that didn’t involve kissing me.” 

“Oh, hermosa,” You hear him make a ‘tsk’ sound through the receiver, “I would have kissed you, and then some,” You can hear him shifting around on the other end, “Wanted to put my hands all over you, make you feel good.” 

You bite your bottom lip a little, wanting nothing more than to let your hand wander below the waistband of your shorts, but there’s that little bubble of anxiety that always seems to make itself known to you when you get yourself into conversations like this, your lack of experience, lack of knowledge really, in how any of this is meant to work. 

“I wanted you to do that too,” You admit, “But…” You trail off, not really wanting to admit this to him right now. 

“But what, hermosa?” He coaxes. 

“I’m just-” You sigh, “I don’t have a lot of experience in this stuff, you’ll have to be patient with me.” 

You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it certainly isn’t what he says, “You want me to teach you, huh?” He asks, “Show you what you’ve been missing with those college boys?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, because he’s so right. You want to know what it’s like for someone else to take you apart. You want to know what it’s like when someone sinks into you and really cares about how you feel. You want to know what it’s like to feel someone else’s mouth on you. You want to know what it’s like to curl into someone’s side once all is said and done and fall asleep with someone’s arm wrapped around you, and you want all that with him. 

“I do.” You reply simply. 

“Then say no more,” There’s another silence, “I should let you go,” He says, “But I’ll see you soon, okay?” You hum in response, “And, um, don’t worry okay?” You’re about to ask about what, but you think you know what he’s getting at, “Just… probably best we don’t say anything to anyone, but don’t worry about it, alright?” 

“Okay,” Is your response, because what else is there to really say, “Goodnight Javi.” 

“Goodnight, querida,” He says back, “Sweet dreams.”