#he’s trying to actively better himself and get back on his feet

[hotgluegunflower]

Can people stop being cruel to Liam Payne there’s only so much a person can take and he doesn’t deserve this

[moonchildstyles]

harry at these soccer games…… 🥸🥸🥸 now THATS! my baby daddy prosecco h🥸

wordcount: 3.2k+

—————

"Sweetheart, are y'almost ready?" 

(Y/N) wanted to roll her eyes, huff out an attitude and shout back to Harry that she'd be ready when she was ready, until she saw the time. 

They were now running fifteen minutes behind.

To be fair, she thought she was doing much better on time than she actually was. She had figured the last time he had shouted to her was only a short two minutes ago, but it appeared he had given her a full ten minutes and she was still working on getting her hair to lay the way she wanted. At least her makeup was done and her outfit was laid out on her bed. 

"Almost," (Y/N) called back over the sound of the hairdryer, working the device a bit quicker over her strands. 

"We need to leave in five minutes, love. We're already running a little late, so try to be ready soon." 

Her lips thinned at his evergreen patience. Now she felt that much more guilty for almost giving him attitude. Besides, today was for him, one of the very few times he allowed himself to be the focus of their activities, the least she could do was hurry up and little and let him enjoy it to the fullest. 

Despite still not being happy with her hair, she took the strands at what they were and turned off the dryer. Worst case, she'd stick a claw clip in and hope that concealed the untamable strands. Rushing back to her bedroom, she made quick work of wiggling into her outfit. Finishing touches came in the form of clumsy perfume spritzes, extra swipes of lip gloss before shoving the tube in her bag, and blindly stuffing her feet into her shoes. 

Skittering out of her bedroom, she met Harry where he was standing with his phone in hand, forehead creased. 

"I'm ready, I'm sorry," (Y/N) blurted, fastening her emergency claw clip to the handle of her purse, "We can go." 

Harry looked up at her, clearly stressed with lines around his eyes and lips thinned, "'S alright, love. Y'look pretty." 

"Worth the wait?" she teased, feeling her cheeks warm from his smile praise.

The worry lines on his face melted some as she spoke, "Always. C'mon, pretty." 

Setting her hand in the crook of Harry's offered arm, (Y/N) suddenly forgot about each strand of hair that wouldn't cooperate, the fold on the heel of her sock from stubbornly stepping into her shoes. There was no way she could feel less than perfect when Harry talked to her that way—when he looked at her like that. 

—————

After the debacle of finding a parking space among the crowded lot, (Y/N) wasn't excited to see the amount of people that outnumbered the cars they had already trekked through. While she definitely enjoyed her nightlife, bar hopping among different crowds, there was something definitely much less appealing about this crowd she found herself among. 

(It was probably the lack of alcohol, if she was being honest). 

"Where are our seats?" (Y/N) murmured, clutching Harry's hand to keep him from straying. 

Absently peeking at the ticket on his phone, Harry rattled off the section and seat numbers. Truthfully, the information didn't mean much to her given that Harry was in charge of leading them to where they needed to go; she had hoped he would tell her in general where they would be watching the match, as in by the goal or something. 

She hummed in response, letting him pull her to go ahead of him as they ventured into a particularly congested area of the arena. A line for the concessions converged with the line of eager fans attempting to get special edition merchandise for the event, enough activity to leave a narrow space for both flows of traffic to travel through. 

"Jus' go straight ahead," Harry murmured as he ducked down to her ear, his hands on her waist from behind. 

A string of excuse me and sorry fell from her lips every time she encountered a new body, her steps minuscule as they moved beyond. If she had even wanted anything to drink or snack on during the game, there was no way she was even attempting the line unless they found a less noticeable stall or until everyone cleared out. 

Popping out on the other side, (Y/N) found a small space out of the way before turning to look at Harry once more. He made sure they got through the worst of it together, but his captaining job was far from over if the rest of the stadium was anything like that. 

"Y'okay, pretty?" he asked, looking to her through the dark of his shades though the stern line of his lips showed off all of his concern. 

"Yeah," she sighed, anchoring herself once more with a grip on his hand, "Just a lot of people. I wasn't expecting this." 

He hummed an acknowledgment to her as they started down the curving corridor along the bowl of the venue. "I've been wanting to take y'to other matches before this one, but someone's always too busy." 

The look he cast over his sunnies was accusing, though it lost much of his grit when a slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

"Because I am," (Y/N) countered, just a pitch away from a whine in her voice, "And, I don't think I've been missing out on much if this is how these things go." 

"'S no different than one of your concerts, love," he mused, ever-patient as he counted off each of the section headers above the doors leading to the seating, "And this is a big match, anyway. They're usually not this crazy." 

Before she could offer anything in response, Harry rapidly pulled her out of the way as a group of shirtless men with green painted torsos barreled through the corridor, drunken laughter spilling in their wake. His features were set in stiff lines as he looked over his shoulder at the rowdy group disappearing. 

"Maybe a little worse than your concerts, actually," he muttered, the admission made under his breath as he opted to keep his arm around her waist as opposed to leashing her by his hand. Easier to keep her safe. 

With that, he became her guard dog for the trek, sharp eyes keeping watch for any and everything that might cause his pretty girl harm while finding their seats. Rowdy patrons or those unwilling to give her space were given sharp glare before Harry elbowed around them, ensuring no one touched even a single hair on the top of her head. 

It was enough to have (Y/N) sighing as if in a dream. It was cute seeing him act this way, protective and adoring. It was even more interesting to see others' reactions to his behavior; when others cowered out of the way, (Y/N) wondered what was going on in their head. She couldn't imagine wanting to go the opposite direction of her Harry, not even when he had his lips pursed and eyes narrowed. She was too familiar with the dimples hiding in the folds of his cheeks or the bunny-like front teeth shielded by lips. 

"I'll go first this time. Hang onto me," Harry directed once they reached the correct section. 

As he started down the flight of stairs, he reached a hand out behind him for (Y/N) to take. She didn't hesitate before clutching his fingers, his grip tight as he started descending to their row. Looking around at the arena of fans around her, (Y/N) truthfully couldn't believe the energy. It was decidedly much different than any concert she had ever attended, even to ones she'd been to at this exact venue. 

There was almost something slightly aggressive about the audience with the differing sides mingling together, along with pints of alcohol and greasy food. There were costumed attendees complete with wild wigs and painted faces sat beside those with determined faces and brains full of the rulebook. Of course there were those like H, just excited to be there and hopeful for their favorite team, and those like her, there because someone they cared about wanted to be in attendance. 

Going lower and lower in the bowl, Harry finally stopped over a handful of rows away from the green. Pulling her to stand beside him, he pointed at a pair of vacant seats a few people in. 

"Those two, right there. I'll be right behind you," he murmured into her ear, urging her on with a hand on her back. 

Going ahead without a word, (Y/N) apologized as she skirted her way by those already sat down. She couldn't help the frown that plucked her features when the crowd around them erupted into cheers for no apparent reason. It spiked her anxiety, feeling as if they were missing something important, even if (Y/N) didn't really have any real interest in any of the events taking place this evening. 

Settling into her seat, she waited for Harry to join her with wide eyes. As soon as he caught the way she was looking at him, a small smile touched his cheeks. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he uttered, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head. 

"There's..." she trailed off, emphasizing her point with her eyes scanning around the stadium, "so much." 

"I know, right?" he muttered, a giddy undertone to his words, "'S exciting." 

"Something like that," she smiled, happy to see how excited he was to be here. 

"It'll be more fun when the match starts," he insisted, "Everyone settles down a little." 

"When does it start?" (Y/N) asked, watching as the jumbo screen above the field went through an advertisement for the cheese sticks available at the concession stand. If she wasn't turned off by the mess of a line they'd seen, she would be asking Harry if they could grab an order of the fried cheese. 

Harry hummed, checking his phone. "Not for another forty-five minutes." 

Just as he spoke, just a couple of rows ahead of them, a pair of strangers began loudly arguing about some statistics she had no context for. 

This was going to be a long forty-five minutes. 

—————

Shooting to her feet, (Y/N) followed Harrys cue as he cheered. She wasn't exactly sure what for, considering she didn't see any of the players make a goal, but she would just have to ask about those rules later. For now, she clapped and cheered with him, watching from the corner of her eye for when he took his seat again. 

When the crowd settled once more, Harry held a giddy smile on his face, nose pinkened by the time in the sun. As much as this match wasn't her cup of tea, seeing him having fun the way he was definitely made up for some of the discomfort and how lost she was rules-wise. 

Leaning over the armrest with her mouth hovering by his ear, she asked the same question she'd already posed periodically through the match, "Good?" 

"Really good, pretty!" he answered in a chirp, "We've got the ball now." 

"Ohhh," she sounded. It was news to her that their preferred team didn't have the ball already. 

The ball was nothing more than a black and white spot going across the green while colorful jerseys followed after. The audience was raptured, almost caught in silence while the plays were made, but (Y/N) was much more interested in watching Harry. 

While he wasn't completely committed to watching any and every game that came on the television, she could tell being here was especially exciting for him. It made her excited about the game just seeing how much it meant to him; she was this close to grabbing a jersey to keep at his house for the nights she spent over. 

She couldn't help but to angle herself as close as possible to him despite the armrest separating them, leaving her arm pressed flush against his. Harry didn't even glance at her before he was lifting that same arm and dropping it around her shoulders, keeping her close. 

"Thank you for coming with me, sweetheart," he murmured into her ear, his voice clear over the rush of the crowd. A delicate kiss was placed on her temple, his lips warmer than even the sun's rays on the grass. 

She beamed up at him, admiring the angles of his features. The height of his cheekbones, the line of his sun kissed nose, the length of his curling lashes. Her man. 

"Thank you for bringing me," she said, craning her neck just enough to press her lips to the stubbled cheek. 

She could feel the dip of his dimple underneath her lips as he smiled.

Just then, a seemingly important goal was made. Harry pulled her to stand up and cheer with him, his hands over his head with the rest of the excitable crowd. 

"Did you see that!?" Harry yelled, eyes wide and smile broad. 

Of course she didn't. She was busy kissing on her boyfriend, she wasn't watching the match. 

Nonetheless, seeing him smile made it that much easier for her to do the same. "That was crazy!" 

His expression—bright eyes with a wide smile, his cheeks holding a pinkened glow—was well worth her little fib. 

—————

"That's gonna look really cute on you, sweetheart." 

(Y/N)'s beaming smile was directed up at Harry, looking at the colorful jersey he'd purchased for her. It was truthfully not her color, and the fit was going to be something she was going to have to fight to style to her liking, but it was Harry's favorite player. More than anything, this was for him, something she was going to keep at his home for the night she would spend in his bed. 

"You think so?" she chirped, looking up at him with bright eyes. Maybe her words were a bit of a ploy, fishing for some compliments. Could anyone blame her? Hearing softened words wrapped up in his voice, all while he was looking at her, was all too easy to become addicted to. 

"I know so, love," he smiled, quickly casting his eyes to the line of cars slowly moving ahead of them, "Gonna wear it tonight?" 

Her smile turned a bit sheepish as his voice drawled around the question. "I can, if you want." 

When she peeked at him from the corner of her eye, she saw the way his eyes dropped to the jersey in her lap back up to the line of her profile. There was a shade to his gaze now, something warming through the green of his irises as he looked at her. The raspberry of his lips was slicked over by the top of her tongue just before his attention was called back to the windscreen. 

"I want." 

The breathy laugh that fell from her lips was just as dazed as it was spurred on by the butterflies awakening in her stomach. "I can do that." 

Harry hummed, reaching over to place his palm against her thigh. Traffic finally began to shift from the stop and go lock the car park was caught in, into a slow crawl, leaving his eyes fixed on the windshield instead of on his pretty girl. Instinctively, she angered her body towards him, settling her palm atop his hand. 

The dimple in his cheek was his only acknowledgment of her move. "Did y'really have fun today, love?" 

"I did," she chirped, bouncing in her seat, "I don't think I really get it still, but it was so fun to see all of the people. It made me excited even though I didn't really know what for." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, glancing at her as he shifted into the flow of traffic, "'M happy y'had fun. I know 's not really your thing, but it means a lot that y'came with me. Thank you, pretty girl." 

This time, the warming pit in her stomach flushed away into something delicate, full of cotton candy clouds and saccharine threads. She was sure her eyes were practically hearts at this point, trained right on him.

"You always come to me with all of my favorite stuff, so I'm happy we did something for you today. You had fun today, right?"

"So much, baby. I always have fun with you." 

She could have melted right into the leather of her seat if not for his hand on her thigh holding her together. 

"I always have fun with you, too," she murmured, reaching across the center console until she had her lips pressed to his cheek. It was a lingering touch, something she was well aware she needed to cut short given the cars racing outside the windows, but she couldn't help but to take her time. The stubble under her kiss prickled against her lips, against the tip of her nose. "I love you." 

As she settled back into her spot, Harry's grip tightened on her leg. "Pretty, I can't pull over right now." 

Blinking at him, she sounded, "Huh?" 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Y'can't act like that—kissing on me and whispering—when I've got to keep us safe. 'S not fair, I want to kiss you, too." 

Biting back a smile, she wrapped her fingers around his clenching palm. "Just find a shoulder or something," she suggested, "Or, I'm sure we'll get to a red light at some point." 

He seemed to consider the former suggestion for a moment, eyes glancing out the windscreen to the lanes before them. After a moment, he shook his head. "I'll save it for when we're home. Are y'spending the night?" 

"I can if you want." 

"I want." 

This time, she couldn't help but let out a full, bubbling laugh. His response was quick—too quick to hide anything. "Are we still stopping for dinner?" she asked, despite knowing the likely answer. 

"No." 

Maybe she was missing the feel of his stubbled cheek, or she was teasing him just a little, but she couldn't help but to lean across and press another kiss to his cheek. 

His hand on her thigh moved in an instant, landing on the back of her neck in a weighty press. 

"Pretty." 

"Sorry," she giggled, pulling away though Harry's hand stayed just where it was on the back of her neck, "I'll stop." 

The sunburned glow to his nose and cheeks was only emboldened by the flush touching the cream of his skin. "Y'better, love. Y'like being good for me, right?" 

It was her turn to feel the warmth, the pad of his thumb skating over the column of her throat. "Yeah. Sorry, H." 

He gave one more lingering pulse of his fingers before his palm dragged down the curve of her throat and the length of her arm until it was back in her lap. "It's alright, sweetheart. Jus' save it for m'bedroom. And your new little shirt."

Who was she to turn down a plan like that? 

Maybe, they were going to have to start going to more of these matches. Especially if they ended like this.

—————

ive missed my king Prosecco:( I really hope everyone enjoys how this turned out! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if theres anything fun you want to share send them in!!!!!

[bitchlessdino]

boo-ty call 👻 (m)

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Word count: 11.1k tags: a lot of puns, human body possession (con and dubcon), threesome by definition if you count a ghost, mention of food, cunnilingus, some degrading (slut), light spanking, unprotected sex Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. author note: it's sluttober! when did i last write anything and have it posted. that's crazy sorry about that yall, but i'm really trying my best to be more active, but ngl its hard. life really gets in the way and we have to remind ourselves to take a back sometimes, even from our hobbies. Thank you to @multi-kpop-fanfics and @seokgyuu for beta reading and helping me perfect this masterpiece and thank you to you guys for your patience. Enjoy! Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone

You should’ve known better than to find an apartment listing in the same place where people get lied to about the types of dogs they’re buying. To this day, your aunt is convinced her Chorkie is supposed to be pure Maltese.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. It should’ve scared you. It should’ve driven you away and rushed you out to find a newer, less haunted place to live. But it was cheap, fully furnished, and came with a walkable laundromat and a family-owned market with homegrown tomatoes. Nothing could beat that.

You could tolerate it. It was better than mooching off your parents, who ask every five minutes when you’ll get a 'real' job. Living away from your parents was necessary for your sanity and a dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.

“Can you fucking stop leaving the bathroom light on? I get that haunting is your job and all, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”

If anyone could see you talking to thin air right now, they would’ve had you committed.

“And while we’re at it, could you stop stealing the lacy underwear? They’re gifts, and I don’t wear them, but I might someday, so leave me the option!”

The hallway light flickered before it finally stopped and swift air breezed past you in response, but no returning underwear. You let out a frustrated sigh and shove the rest of your dirty clothes into the hamper before proceeding with laundry day. 

You’ve never seen any part of them, yet you’re always aware of their presence. It was creepy at first, but that quickly turned into annoyance when you realized how limited their grasp on the living world truly was—just a bit of theft and light tinkering. It was manageable, but you still felt uneasy knowing you couldn’t change without feeling watched.

“I’ll be back. Don’t piss me off more when I do. It is not my week.”

Not a day had passed since you two became acquainted that he didn’t find some way to bother you, but there were definite perks to living in hell’s best apartment lease. As your feet scraped across the tiled floor, the afternoon sun briefly flushed your skin, and a familiar flutter stirred in your chest as the thought of something popped into your head. Instead of the usual contempt, longing filled your chest as you made your way to the machine.

“What do we have today, m’dear?”

Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, and you pretended to nonchalantly turn around, as if you hadn’t just spent several minutes hoping for his appearance. “Oh, you know, the usual—interview clothes, some sweatpants, and a few coffee-stained rags.”

Seungkwan’s lips curled into a soft chuckle, his laugh warm as he tossed his own laundry into the machine beside yours. “Sounds spicy. Mrs. Whirlpool is in for a gourmet meal today.”

He said the weirdest, most ridiculous things, but the real mystery was how you still ended up wanting to kiss him anyway. There was something about his easy smile, the effortless way he tossed his dress shirt into the machine like it was some kind of party trick.

He had a knack for brightening the atmosphere as if he possessed a magnetic otherworldly charm. Whenever you arrived, you couldn't help but wish he would be there, transforming the ordinary task of laundry into an intimate little affair—just the two of you amidst a heap of dirty clothes.

You observed him from the side, noting that his stack of clothes was noticeably smaller than usual. This made you question why he would wash such a small load. “Today isn't your regular laundry day. It’s usually Fridays and Mondays, isn't it? Today’s Thursday.”

The second the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. Great. Way to sound like a total stalker. Creep much?

Seungkwan cocked a smile. “I’m flattered you’ve memorized my laundry schedule.”

You laughed awkwardly, scrambling for cover. “I pass by here and just happen to have a really great memory.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this might sound kind of gross and embarrassing, but I found these abandoned at the back of my closet. They’ve been there forever, and I had some extra change, so I figured, why not? You know, especially since I’ll be gone at the end of October.”

“You’ll be gone for Halloween?” Well, don’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a soft chuckle, glancing your way. “Family traditions. Can’t miss them. You know, the usual—handing out candy, our neighborhood haunted house contest, all that.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Way better than my Halloween growing up.” 

“Aw, thanks, but trust me, it’s way more chaotic than it sounds. Kids screaming, neighbors going overboard with decorations—it’s a lot." He shrugged as he folded his laundry, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. “What about you? Got any plans?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Still figuring it out, I guess,” you answered earnestly, suddenly feeling like a loser with no plans–which you were by definition.

Seungkwan hesitated, his hands stilling mid-fold, the fabric dangling loosely between his fingers. You could see something flickering in his eyes—a jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind like a muddled cloud, visible in the furrow of his brow. “Oh. Well, um…” His voice trailed off, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were battling whether or not to say what was really on his mind.

"What?" Your curiosity spiked, your heart quickening as you waited for him to continue. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, stretching the already lingering silence.

He quickly shook his head, offering a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his laundry, his hands moving again, but less sure than before. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment weighed on you, heavier than you wanted to admit. You glanced at the washing machines, trying to focus on the steady hum of the cycles, but your eyes kept drifting back to the numbers, slowly counting the seconds until the minutes ticked over, all while the silence between you grew louder.

You finished your load long before Seungkwan could wrap up his, the awkward tension of unfinished business hanging in the air like a thick fog. You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before mustering a tight smile, trying to shake off the discomfort. “Well, that’s it for me. See you around, Seungkwan.”

He looked up from his laundry, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly. "See you, neighbor," he said, his tone laced with a hint of regret. The moment lingered in the air between you, thick with unspoken words, making it even harder to walk away.

With one last glance at his face, you stepped back, the soft chime of the door ringing behind you as you passed their glass doors.

As you walked  back toward your apartment, you couldn’t help but drop in confidence, thinking to yourself that maybe you didn’t deserve good things like cute laundromat boy. The hallway felt more confining than usual, the walls seeming to close in, echoing the insecure thoughts making rounds in your head.

You leaned against the cheaply painted walls of your cramped apartment, sliding down to sit on the floor with your head in your hands. It was just a childish crush—fleeting and meaningless—yet the thought of him going away scared you more than any real-life danger you'd ever faced. He was the only upside to moving to this part of town, the one thing that made the mundane feel even remotely worthwhile.

As you sat on the vinyl floor, you could still picture the sparkle in his eyes when he first opened those double doors, the warmth of his voice as he introduced himself. What had once been just laundry had turned into something to look forward to, a small break from the routine and a chance to brighten up your day in this sparse town. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, it could turn into a little small-town romance. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even saw you beyond the casual pleasantries. Did he just see you as another neighbor, or maybe just a friendly face? 

The familiar flickering light in the kitchen pulled you back to the reality and up from the ground of your haunted apartment. With a frustrated sigh, you turned your attention to your unwanted roommate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home,” you muttered, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy.

As you walked toward the living room, the flickering lightbulbs in the lamps followed your path, their erratic dance a reminder of the presence that lingered in your space. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It could be a way to finally cut ties with the ghost that seemed determined to remind you of your solitude. You chuckled softly at the thought. Perhaps an exorcism could clear out both the ghost and all the pointless overthinking.

But that was a problem for another day. Rotting in bed sounded far more appealing right now. You shuffled into your room, the soft glow from the streetlamp spilling in through the window, casting faint shadows on the walls as the evening deepened. The coolness of the night crept in slowly, the faint hum of the city blending into the background.

As you sank into the familiar embrace of your blankets, the exhaustion in your limbs finally settled, but your mind lingered for a moment longer. You glanced outside, the dim light catching in the leaves of the trees below, and for a fleeting second were at peace. No ghosts, no old washers or dryers, no obsessive crush. Just sleep.

You sighed, pulling the covers tighter around you, letting the hum of old furnishing–and probably the old pervert ghost–as you drifted off into sleep.

Your rest was cut short by a full bladder, ready to burst. With heavy eyelids, you stumbled toward the bathroom, barely aware of your surroundings. As you relieved yourself, everything felt normal—the creaking of the bathroom door, the sporadic running of the faucet, and the occasional flickering of the lights above, indicating his restless presence.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your fists. “This wasn’t an invitation, Casper,” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice.

As if to taunt you, the faucet suddenly turned on full blast, running wildly before shutting off completely, leaving you with nothing but the simmering annoyance bubbling inside of you. With a frustrated huff, you quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. The lone reflection staring back at you looked as tired as you felt.

With dark circles under your eyes and a complexion that could only be described as dull, it was starting to feel like you were one bad hair day away from getting "gave up" tattooed across your forehead. And suddenly you were wondering whether you looked more dead than the ghost.

Instead of wallowing more self-pity, you washed your hands under the running faucet. If the ghost wanted to bother you, it certainly wasn’t going to be about your hygiene. You kept that on lock.

You glanced back at the mirror and no longer were you alone. Instead, where your reflection should have been was the unsettling visage of your ghost, staring back at you with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His pale features were striking, almost ethereal, with an undeniable charm that twisted your gut. Those mischievous eyes sparkled with a playful malevolence.

Your ghost was attractive–strikingly so–and for some reason that made you dislike him even more.

You shot your shared reflection an unamused smile. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

His reflection chuckled, leaning over his sink to give you an unfiltered view of every extraordinary detail etched into his face like a sculpture. “What? I thought I could finally introduce myself.”

“After months of me already living here? I feel the moment has passed,” you shot back, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Well, I had to pass my own judgment, didn't I? Do you know how many coke-huffing, cheese puff-grubbing, athlete-foot-walking slobs I’ve encountered in my place of residence?” He leaned closer, his expression mockingly serious, the flickering light casting playful shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

“May I remind you that those people were renters? If they paid to be there, who were you to deny them that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Like I didn’t pay when I was alive? Plus, Muriel definitely wasn’t paying, nor was Monty. They were beyond sketchy.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly relishing the chance to air his grievances from beyond the grave. “Now that I think about it, there was definitely some laundry going on around here—and I’m not just talking about your underwear strewn all over the place.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Would you please leave the undergarments alone?” you replied, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into your voice as if you didn’t sound crazy enough talking into a mirror.

He shrugged nonchalantly, the flickering light casting shadows across his smirking face. “I will once you learn to toss them in the hamper like a normal humie. Upside to being dead: no laundry.”

“I don’t have to take this from someone who can’t even wear underwear anymore.”

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.

You scoffed, incredulous at the absurdity of the conversation you were having—with a ghost of all people.

“You know I’m right…I could sense your heart racing the moment you laid eyes on me,” he teased, a playful grin dancing across his lips as his jaw hung slightly slack in intrigue. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your breath caught in your throat, as if he were drinking in every detail, alive in the way his eyes glowed with mischief despite their soulless depths.

His ghostly figure was lean and toned, the contours of his form faintly visible like a lingering shadow, brimming with an energy that felt both alluring and infuriating. The flickering light cast an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaws and the way his seemingly wet hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He leaned closer, the air thickening with a mix of annoyance and something dangerously enticing as if he relished the effect he had on you.

“Are you…flirting with me?” You couldn’t believe you had to ask, but the glint in his eye was undeniable.

“It’s not illegal. Not in the afterlife, anyway. Anything goes here.” He leaned back against the sink, bloodless veins pulsing against his forearms, enjoying the encounter more than he should.

“I…need sleep.” 

You peeled yourself away from the mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, and headed to bed without looking back. You slipped through the sheets, found comfort in their familiarity, and sighed, thinking you escaped.

“You know—”

“Jesus!” you burst out, your heart racing as you instinctively clutched your chest. Opening your eyes, you found the ghost looming above you, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “What now?”

“Walking to a different room isn’t exactly a proper goodnight,” he said, crossing his arms over his spectral chest as if he were the arbiter of etiquette in the afterlife. His expression was mock-serious, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he found the whole situation amusing.

“As if ghosts even sleep?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“No, but it’s polite,” he replied, feigning indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained grin.

“Is this going to keep happening? You annoy me until I scrape together enough money to move out, or, if I’m not fortunate, end up penniless and homeless,” you lamented, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“You tell me.”

With a sigh, you shut your eyes again and threw the blanket over your head, seeking refuge. “At least save it for the morning.”

And the ghost did just that—he saved all of it for the morning, better yet the afternoon. Since that’s when you woke up anyways.

“Do people always eat breakfast past two p.m., or is that a recent trend from the last two decades?” his voice called, cutting through the haze of your half-sleep as you started to eat 

“How old are you even?” you mumbled, cereal gnashing between your teeth.

“Old enough to know that you need more than cereal to sustain a healthy human body.”

“Riveting,” you muttered sarcastically, sipping the milk from the bowl. “Next, you’ll tell me that ‘ghosting’ is a real thing in your realm, too.”

“Actually, it is,” he retorts, his presence somehow stronger than it was in front of a mirror, “Happen to be doing it right now. Having some fun.”

“Is that your idea of fun? Stalking me from beyond the grave?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m just trying to keep you company,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. “Besides, who else is going to breathe some life into your dull existence other than someone who’s already checked out of theirs?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a playful huff. “Great. Just what I need—my own ghostly life coach. What’s next? A seminar on the benefits of double-scrubbing the bathtub?

It was meaningless stuff, really. The kind of chatter that filled the air like background noise, a gentle distraction from the world outside your walls. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be dead, he had an uncanny knack for conversation, it only made you assume the type of person he was alive. He could turn the mundane into clear images, painting vivid pictures with his stories about the afterlife—or, more accurately, his gripes about it. Not that you asked for it, but, it was like being told a grand story. Stories you could not for the life of you stop listening to for some reason.

“Okay, ghostie—”

“Jeonghan,” he corrected. “Say it with me slowly. Jeong. Han.”

“Mmh, ghostie! I’ll be back after the laundry is done.”

“No way you’re saving money with how often you—”

“Bye bye, poltergeist!” You cut him off with a wave, stepping out with a load full of laundry.

You had noticed how quickly the days were slipping by, how time seemed to blur when you shared your space with someone—or rather, something—that could actually respond to you in real-time. It was a strange kind of companionship, one that made you forget just how much solitude had weighed on you before.

The passing days also reminded you just how much you needed a breather, to clear your head from this bizarre living arrangement. And somehow, your laundry had piled up, more than it ever should have for someone unemployed who barely left the house. It was odd. Almost like time itself was moving faster, dragging the mess along with it.

“Hey, right on schedule—Thursdays and every other Monday and today’s Monday..”

You almost forgot about Seungkwan amidst all the supernatural nonsense swirling around you, but seeing him brought back memories of your last encounter, and you quickly put on a smile. “Hey there! Look at you, recognizing my laundry schedule too.”

“Thought I’d return the favor since you were kind enough to remember mine. Hope that’s okay,” he replied, his tone light.

You piled your laundry into the machine, carefully measuring out some freshly opened detergent. “It is.”

“Okay… I just want to apologize for being weird the last time we talked,” he said, shifting slightly as he leaned against the machine, his expression turning a bit more serious. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured him.

“I just… I don’t know.” He glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowing slightly. “My mind went blank, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled reassuringly. “I get that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

He looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Fuck. “It’s… just an expression.”

He leaned against his machine, his gaze fixed on you. “Didn’t deny it, though.”

You chuckled, feigning exasperation and mirroring his posture against your own machine. “You’re a lot more cocky than I realized, Mr. Seungkwan.”

“Do you like that?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were left speechless. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the other until finally, they found themselves running down between your legs in a new form of discomfort. “Umm…” 

You turned away for a moment, breathing to steady yourself, gently patting away your very alive heart.

“I made it weird again, didn’t I?” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

You spun back around, shaking your head. “No. No! It just took me by surprise.”

“Sorry about that.” Not sounding all that sorry.

“That’s…more than I’m used to,” you admitted, a slight heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“Thank you?” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound brightening the air between you and making the moment feel lighter and more vibrant. Just then, the machine beeped, a sharp sound signaling that your clothes were done, pulling you away from the heated exchange.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, but this time it felt different—like the crackling of kindling in the perfect moment when fireflies come out, illuminating the night as brightly as the stars in the sky. You exchanged a quiet glance, catching a glint reminiscent of those stars in his gaze, and for a second, it felt like the universe was telling you, ‘Hey, maybe there's something here.’

When you finally turned to leave, your smile was the biggest you’d ever had. And when he matched yours, it was like you had just won a bizarre lottery. You probably looked a bit unhinged, standing there grinning at nothing while swaying in the damp weather, but you didn’t care. The butterflies in your stomach danced happily, and you found yourself wishing you could hold on to this moment just a little longer, savoring the warmth it brought.

“You look happy.”

Not even the Ghostbusters’ final boss could ruin that for you.

“Cram it, Beetlejuice Lite,” you shot back, because although you’re in a good mood, you relished finding new names to call Jeonghan besides his own.

You hummed to yourself as you folded and neatly put away your clothes, feeling his cool, lingering presence behind you. He watched, like always—probably thinking up who put sugar in your cereal this morning for you to be in such an uppity mood.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re actually putting your clothes away like a functional human being?” His voice oozed mock surprise, but today, it just rolled right off you.

“Yep! Just felt like it,” you replied cheerfully, sliding the last of the shirts into your drawer with a satisfied nod.

“Strange. I thought laundry was your natural habitat now, seeing how often you’re in there… but I guess that’s thanks to a certain ‘living,’” 

You snapped your drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as you whipped around to glare at him, immediately pulling you away from the happiness you felt not that long ago. “You—”

“Seungkwan, wasn’t it? Cute kid. Didn’t quite peg him as your type, though.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, heart doing an involuntary somersault. Of course, he’d noticed. He seemed to notice everything, like some twisted version of a nosy neighbor, only this one didn’t have the decency to keep his opinions to himself. You wanted to fire back, but your brain was moving a step too slow, still caught up on the casual way he dropped Seungkwan's name. How long had he been watching you both at the laundromat?

“You’re stalking me outside of the apartment now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My spirit may be bound to this place,” he replied with an air of nonchalance, “but my soul can roam as it pleases.”

“Spirit? Soul? Aren’t they the same thing?”

He tilted his head, giving you a patronizing smile. “Not quite. My soul travels freely, observing everything within a reasonable distance—it’s not tethered to the apartment like my spirit is. My spirit stays here, out of my control.”

“So, you spied on me just because you could?”

"Call it research. Gathering intel." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like you were doing anything interesting."

"Oh, I'm so glad I could provide you with such riveting entertainment.”

You shook your head, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind you, only to have Jeonghan pass through it. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly annoying."

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

“So,” he began, “about this Seungkwan guy…”

You stiffened, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What about him?”

“Just curious,” he replied casually, though there was a glint in his eyes. “He seems... nice.”

“He is,” you mumbled, suddenly finding your laundry far more interesting than the conversation again.

“And you like him?”

Your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words almost sticking in your throat. “Maybe.”

“Does he like you?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…I don’t know yet.”

There was a beat of silence before he offered, “Want some help with that?”

“No. What? How would you even do that?” You narrowed your eyes, already regretting entertaining this conversation.

He started circling you, wearing a grin that screamed trouble, like a cat ready to pounce. “The only time my soul and spirit are truly joined,” he began in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is when I possess a body and take control of their flesh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where is this going, Bloody Maury? Skip to the part that makes sense.”

He stopped directly in front of you, arms crossed. “Well, if you’re interested in ‘skipping to the good parts,’ I could possess your body. Help you say what’ll win over Seungkwan in no time.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why in the hell would I be dumb enough to let you do that?”

He snickered, leaning in with a smug look. “Because you’re desperate and haven’t slept with anyone the entire time we’ve lived together.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Think about it,” he continued, unbothered by your glare. “You’ve already got a foot in the door with him. You just need a little boost. I can help.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “This sounds like some high-level scheme to take over my body. Then I’ll end up stuck sharing it with a ghost, screaming into the depths of my soul for eternity. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too much supernatural TV. And besides, if I wanted to possess your body for good, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I do have some principles, you know. Consent and all.”

You shook your head, unimpressed. “Nope. I still can’t trust you, ghostie.”

Jeonghan, ever the persistent undead, didn’t know the meaning of giving up—and by now, you should’ve expected as much. And maybe, just maybe, his constant, incessant persuading was starting to wear you down. Sharing the same space day in and day out gave him the upper hand. He knew your quirks, your weak spots—the best and worst parts of you.

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.

As you stared off at him, basking in the cool autumn air slipping through the balcony, you started to wonder if his intentions were not as venomous or malicious as you initially thought. There was a strange, quiet sadness in his eyes as if he longed for something he couldn’t put into words. Something that you couldn’t understand even if you tried.

“Am I really so pathetic that the ‘phantom reject’ is willing to help me with my love life?”

Jeonghan glanced at you with mild interest, noticing the way your curiosity had piqued. You sat comfortably on the couch, your elbow propped on the armrest, cheek nestled in your palm, as you observed him. He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, the silence was deafening and he lowered his head to level with you, staring back at you with so much intent it burned to feel his gaze.

He titled his head, brimming with pride. “Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”

“You really think this’ll work for me?”you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Of course,” he replied, with a grin. “You’ve got me.”

You were really considering it—letting a ghost help with your love life. Was this truly insane? Maybe. But it felt like it was worth a shot.

God, this was pathetic. And for once, you had something to be genuinely afraid of. And funny enough, it wasn’t possession. Until, well… maybe it was.

Life had never quite prepared you for this. Standing in your bedroom, surrounded by the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in the corner, you realized you’d put this off long enough—both the laundry and the body possession. You let out a shaky breath, glancing nervously from the mess to Jeonghan. 

His presence loomed, just as insistent as the neglected chores, and you had to steady yourself, mentally sorting through how you’d ended up in this bizarre situation. Laundry? Fine. Ghost possession? Not something you thought was possible. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to assess the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay, Grim Peeper, let’s do this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly as you tried, and failed, to shake off the nerves. His movements were deliberate as he approached, eyes narrowing in focus. He watched how the tension gripped your shoulders, the way your breath quickened despite your best efforts to stay calm. His presence felt heavier, and as he took his position in front of you, the air around him seemed to still. 

You could feel the weight of what was about to happen, the looming absurdity of it all. Jeonghan, who usually exuded a kind of careless charm, now looked oddly concentrated, as if he were preparing for something he rarely had the chance to do. His expression, though still smug, carried a certain gravity. But in all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“I’m about to make contact,” Jeonghan said, his tone unusually serious. “It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”

His hands hovered over your shoulders, a ghostly chill brushing against your skin. For a split second, there was something oddly reassuring in his dead, sullen eyes. "You'll be okay. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. "Alright, I trust you." Then you glanced at him, a small smirk forming. "But seriously, what do you get out of all this? Helping me, I mean. I won’t judge... Boo-dini."

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as if considering how to answer. “I…want to remember what it’s like to feel alive again. See what I missed out on.”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, understandably.

“Expected more from me, humie?”

You shrugged. “Thought you’d have a deeper back story, but that’s fine.”

Jeonghan scoffed softly, giving you a teasing smirk before he began. In an instant, he was there—and then he wasn’t. The shift was so sudden it left you reeling. Just as he’d predicted, a shiver rippled down your spine, cold and unsettling. But what he hadn’t mentioned were the flashes of unfamiliar images that flickered behind your eyes, moments you’d never lived but somehow felt were real.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.

‘How are you?’ he voice said, interrupting your thoughts.

You quietly nodded, reassuring him.

‘Very well then. Your lead, dear host.’

You wandered into the laundromat with your overstuffed hamper, feeling a bit like a laundry pirate hauling treasure—or dirty socks—across the high seas. You’d made the executive–and rightfully cowardly–decision to skip your usual laundry day, and now it was leading up to this very moment. Jeonghan stayed mostly dormant in your body as you claimed an empty machine, the back of your head itchy knowing another being was sharing your body that has led you this far. And now it was going to lead you to get laid.

It was like clockwork. Any minute now, Seungkwan would stroll in, and Jeonghan would take over, handling all the nerve-wracking nonsense you'd rather avoid.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ his voice echoed, ‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’

“Sorry,” you muttered softly under your breath, ignoring the supernatural’s attempt at a joke.

‘It’s fine. Everything will be fine.’

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know what?”

You spun around, facing Seungkwan, who’d entered with that casual, friendly energy you always admired. He smiled, raising an eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Seungkwan!" you blurted out, trying to push the embarrassment down as far as it would go.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted, already moving toward his machine, gently separating colors from whites. “How are you?”

“Good—Great! Why do you ask?”

He gave you a light shrug, glancing up with a playful grin. “Just sounded like you were talking to yourself.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” you quipped, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes thinking out loud helps clear the head noise, right?”

“Right,” he said, stretching with an amused smile, clearly entertained by your odd, jittery energy.

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’

You quietly cursed Jeonghan in your head for making this harder than it needed to be, before mustering up the nerve to approach Seungkwan, fingers nervously fidgeting.

"Hey, so... you mentioned you were going to be out of town for Halloween, right?"

Seungkwan looked up, surprised and then grinned. "You remembered! Yeah, what’s up?"

You hesitated for a second, feeling Jeonghan’s smug presence lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. "I thought..."

Seungkwan leaned casually against the now-humming washer, hands tucked in his pockets, his curious gaze fixed on you. "Yeah?"

You tried to keep your cool, but the moment the words "we could do something" left your mouth, your brain started to short-circuit. Seungkwan turned to you with that easygoing grin of his, waiting for you to elaborate, and you could already feel the awkwardness creeping in.

Jeonghan’s voice chimed in, ‘You’re fumbling. Let me take over.’

Before you could protest, the familiar shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly, everything felt distant—your limbs moved, but you weren't fully in control anymore.

Jeonghan’s smooth voice came out of your mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was thinking, maybe we could hang out before you head out of town? You know, catch a movie, grab a drink, something low-key, say my place?"

Seungkwan's smile widened, surprised but clearly intrigued. "You want to hang out with me?”

Jeonghan, still in control of your voice, replied effortlessly, "Of course." Before you could even process what was happening, your feet began to move on their own, gliding across the floor like a spy on a secret mission. Jeonghan closed the distance between you and Seungkwan, and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."

Your heart raced, and you mentally screamed at Jeonghan, Okay, okay, that’s enough! I can take it from here!

But he was on a roll. "Tomorrow?" Seungkwan asked, leaning casually against the washing machine, though the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot betrayed his nervousness. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Tomorrow’s perfect," Jeonghan responded smoothly, maintaining the effortless flow of the conversation. "I’ll text you the details."

With each word, your body felt like it was moving on autopilot, and while you were horrified by the lack of control, a part of you couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Jeonghan was nailing it, but the closeness to Seungkwan was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, Seungkwan playfully entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your hand, as his grin graced his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the connection. When you opened them, you found an unreadable expression on his face—intense and smoldering. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice slightly softer now. “Looking forward to it.”

The way he held your gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur. Even though Jeonghan was in control, your thoughts tangled with the heat of the moment, coursing through you like a fever. 

As soon as Seungkwan turned away to his laundry with a lingering grin, Jeonghan released control, and the reins were back in your hands. You blinked, still a bit disoriented from the possession.

‘See? Easy,’ Jeonghan’s voice echoed smugly in your mind.

‘You’re impossible,’ you shot back.

‘But effective.’

That night, you tackled all the prep work you knew you needed to get done. It had been a while since you’d done anything like this, and you definitely had some dust bunnies and spiderwebs in your attic.

“Humie–oh.”

“Jeonghan! What the hell?” Your eyes flew open as you scrambled to pull the shower curtain over your bare legs, the chill of the water sending a shiver up your spine from the products strewn haphazardly at the edge of the sink. “Do you fucking mind?”

“Well, well. Look at you, all cleaned up. At least yourself, anyway. Can’t say the same for the bathroom floor—or that mountain of grooming products over there.”

You gripped your makeshift cover-up a little tighter, groaning in frustration. “Privacy, please! I barely have any as it is.”

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you. Now, if you manage to sweep up after, I might even give you a round of applause.”

“Out!” you snapped, glaring.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”

If you weren’t already a bundle of nerves, Jeonghan was getting far too comfortable for your liking. Leading up to that night and the big day, he had been dishing out advice on everything from what to wear to what movie to play, right down to critiquing the meager food stock in your fridge.

“That’s it, you need to go grocery shopping.”

“I can't afford that right now!”

“Just get Instacart. I don’t care. This apartment is as bare-bones as it gets.”

“I have popcorn, soda, and some chocolate for Halloween when I'm giving them out.”

“First of all, popcorn isn’t actually food. Second, prebiotic soda doesn’t count as real soda. And if you can get chocolate, then you can definitely manage to buy some real groceries.”  

But just as you were about to respond, luck decided to abandon you with a sharp knock at the door. “No time!” you hissed, “now scr—oh, you’re already gone.”  

One moment he was there, and the next, he had vanished. Now, it was all on you, and nothing felt more nerve-wracking. You tugged your shorts down just enough to cover the rest of your bottom, anxiety buzzing in your chest. Your hand hovered over the doorknob as you took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence before swinging it open to reveal who was waiting outside.

“Seungkwan, hey!”  

“Hey!” he grinned, his Halloween-themed vest adding a playful touch to his outfit as he juggled a couple of bags in his arms. “You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d surprise you with some food. Pumpkin-spiced spaghetti and meatballs.”  

“Oh, uhhh…”  

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you! It’s actually butternut squash gnocchi and some stuffed peppers that look like pumpkins.”  

“Oh, thank God! That sounds amazing.”  

“Yeah, it’s festive without going overboard.”  

You nodded in agreement, feeling a warm rush of relief. “Come in.”  

As you stepped aside to let him in, you couldn’t help but notice how wholesomely he was dressed compared to your casual attire. Suddenly, you felt a pang of self-consciousness.  

“I like your sweater,” you said, trying to mask your growing insecurity.  

He looked down, a hint of modesty crossing his face. “Yeah, I think it’s just the right amount of festive, but—”  

“It’s festive but not overboard,” you responded, playfully tossing his words right back at him.  

He grinned, “Exactly!”  

You smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth as Seungkwan's presence began to calm your nerves. As he settled into the familiar space of your apartment, you couldn’t help but discreetly scan the room for any signs of your ghoulish roommate. Half-relieved to find nothing, half-disappointed that your spectral “backup” was nowhere in sight, you let out a quiet sigh. And now it was just you—and the human you actually invited in.

Hesitantly, you eased into the spot next to him on the couch, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your hands were jittery as you picked up the remote, scrolling through the movies you’d lined up, your mind racing to figure out what to do next. 

You glanced at him, hoping for some sort of sign or direction, but the words caught in your throat. The longer you scrolled, the more painfully aware you became of the silence, as if it only heightened the nervous tension taking over your body, weirdly missing Jeonghan and how flawlessly he executed what he did yesterday.

"So, movies," you said, aiming the remote at the TV.

"Movies," he echoed, mimicking your tone.

“I mean,” You raised a brow. "What do you have in mind? And there is a right answer."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, I love Halloween, but..."

"But?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

"I... really can’t handle scary movies. Halloween Town is probably my limit."

"Halloween Town? The kids’ movie?"

"Hey, don’t knock it. They had great graphics!"

"They had awful graphics!" you shot back, incredulous.

He grinned, half-joking but clearly standing by his point. "Yeah, now. But for its time?”

You shook your head in playful disbelief, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, your choice.”

You were left with very few options. Seungkwan had suggested a few festive, family-friendly titles, but you managed to persuade him to consider a couple of mild thrillers—some stupid but perfectly on theme.

“The zombie version of Twilight? Seriously? Zombies?" he repeated, stressing the idea with disbelief.

You shrugged, smiling from his reaction. “You might like it.”

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?” 

The movie began to play, the take-out boxes popped open, and your nerves were on high alert, vibrating like something else does on a normal Friday night for you. Except now, it was just you and the incredible realization that the man you're very much interested in was mere inches away. You were a fucking wreck.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan was genuinely enjoying the film, finding unexpected humor and charm in the cringeworthy blockbuster. His laughter was soothing and infectious, gradually easing your nerves until you started to feel normal again. Why were you like this?

Wait, you felt normal again, but what was normal?

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm. He immediately turned to face you, and your eyes locked, but suddenly they felt as if they belonged to someone else as if you were watching a different kind of film—a film where you were a separate character, experiencing everything from an alternate reality.

“Seungkwan,” your voice spoke, sounding foreign and distant as if someone else were taking control. Jeonghan? 

‘It was so painful to watch.’

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.

“Hey,” he replied, his nerves speaking for him. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped from the depths of your throat, echoing Jeonghan’s playful menace. “You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”

Seungkwan audibly gulped, his eyes darting around as anxiety crept in. “We aren’t?”

“What’s the matter?” Jeonghan leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Seungkwan’s ear. “Where’s that confidence you had yesterday?”

Seungkwan suddenly tossed a pillow onto his lap, speechless and blushing fiercely. “Sorry,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I never anticipated—”

“Oh, really? You never expected to do something other than watching movies?” Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you could feel Seungkwan melt into your touch with a gentle whimper.

A delighted sigh escaped you, fueled by Jeonghan’s newfound confidence coursing through your veins as your thumb traced the curve of Seungkwan’s Adam’s apple, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You didn’t think for a second, I’d–you know–keep the night as is, did you?”

He softly groaned in his throat, feeling the tension seep inside him. “Are you suggesting?”

“I don’t want to just watch movies with you, Seungkwan. It’d be more fun to make our own. Isn’t that right?”

“...yes. God, yes.”

He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands, and pressed his lips to yours in a swift, hungry kiss, sending a surge of electricity through you as your tension unraveled in waves. His weight dipped against your body, pinning you against the rough tweed of the couch. His soft moans mingled with your breaths, muffled yet threatening, as if he were desperate to let loose and explore the desire in his heart while you were within reach.

‘That’s it.’

Your hand held the back of his head, catching strands between your fingers and tugged, ravaging his lips as if it’d be the last time you’d get a chance. You weren’t sure when Jeonghan gave you back your control, but in the heat of the moment, none of it mattered.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins and the fire kindling in your stomach; he had you wanting more with every passing second. His hands grabbed you recklessly, throwing his weight against you and squeezing your flesh until it was tender and malleable in his hands. This wasn’t something to unfold on the couch, you thought—not when a big, inviting bed lay just a few steps away, calling for you.

Your feet regained enough feeling to guide you off the couch, and before you knew it, you were stumbling toward your room, feverish and driven, with no thought of turning back. Your hands found his clothes, teasing beneath his holiday vest and up his torso, admiring the smooth flush of skin that graced your senses. He gasped, succumbing to your excitement and leaned into it, falling seamlessly into your rhythm.

“Didn’t want to stretch this, but,” he pulled the vest and shirt beneath over his head, tossing them aside in the corner. You let your hand linger longer on his body, running along the curve of his spine as he pulled you closer.

Seungkwan grasped your waist, savoring your lips with gentle strokes of his tongue before lifting you from the ground and onto the bed. Your bodies crushed against one another, peeling off articles of clothing one piece at a time until you were almost bare, expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.

“Seungkwan,” you called out in pleas, hands cradling the back of his neck as his hair fell over his eyes. “I want you so bad…”

“You’re telling me,” he managed to breathe out,  gripping your underwear at its hem and scrapping it over your hips as he pulled them down. “I’ve thought about you ever since I met you.”

Your heart bloomed in your chest, pleasantly startled by his confession. Your hands ran through his hand, pushing them over his forehead despite knowing they’d only fall back in place. “You were always so…friendly.”

He smiled, pressing it against the corner of your lips and decorating your cheeks and jaw with kisses. “Yeah. I always hoped that we’d be more than just friendly.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You pulled him back into a lip lock, parting your legs to give him access.

‘Look at all the fun you’re having.’

Jeonghan was like a wandering whisper, weaving through your thoughts as Seungkwan enveloped your senses. Seungkwan’s hands were on your body, touching what’s yours and making it his, where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.

‘Feel him rubbing that pretty pussy of yours.’

“So wet…” Seungkwan said with ache, sounding like he was pleading.

His digits found your sensitivity and thumbed over your clit, stimulating you until your voice rang but the last thing you were doing was speaking. You became fluent in moans, fluid in body language, and perfect in Seungkwan. Your breath dragged on, panting against him as your leg hooked to his side, holding him with urgency.

‘So fucking horny…you were begging to be fucked, hmm?’

You couldn’t help but nod, hand lowering to find Seungkwan’s raging erection just within reach. He softly gasped, thrusting into your touch as you held his shaft, stroking his length that felt so full in your hands. So stiff, yet warm to the touch, almost tasting the tension on your tongue. 

‘Look at that size, huh? Imagine how that feels in you. Stretching your pussy and making you feel so full? Doesn’t that sound amazing?’

“I need you in me Seungkwan.” You begged in desperate pants, gripping him by the forearms. “I want to feel you inside me.”

There was a certain eagerness in his eyes, the kind that said he would do anything and everything for you in a heartbeat and succeed. You weren’t dealing with any average guy that wanted to get off. “Fuck,” he whispered, before lifting his upper body, putting himself on full display.

His physique was magnificent in every way, tantalizing and captivating like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You had an inkling of what he looked like under all his clothes, the veins always so prominent on his forearms and hands when he strained to reach something on a shelf, the line of his back when his lifted shirt revealed just a sliver of skin, or his wide hips, baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven. Never have you ever wanted to run your hands over something, nor have you ever wanted to sink your teeth into something. Yet, here was Seungkwan: utterly delectable.

Seungkwan dragged you by the ankles, moving you effortlessly as he angled himself between your legs, your molten heat practically dripping at the sight of him. His groan bounced off the walls, hand coming over your inner thighs and gently massaging your skin. As his kisses started to pepper over your legs, you felt your pussy physically throb, damned to eternal craving.

“You look like heaven,” He cried against your thighs. “Any protection?”

“It’s right–oh.” You picked up a rubber conveniently left at your nightstand, then handed it to Seungkwan. You‘re welcome.’

He set it aside with a smile and instead of putting it on, his face fell on your heat. He tasted you like it was worship; the dance of his tongue was his prayers, while your response flowed like a cascade of blessings. You whined when you felt him pursed around your clit, teeth barely grazing you as he sucked down like you’re the last bit of syrup in a dessert.

At the same time, his eyes glazed over to yours, a hand hovering over your chest, inaudibly asking permission, and when you gave him a wordless nod, he grabbed handfuls of your breasts. He kneaded you between his knuckles, rolling your buds between his fingers, and having you surrender to his chase.

“Seungkwan, please…”

Seungkwan’s eyes glimmered with pride, a sultry testament to the depth of his exploration. The longer he ventured, the more you found ogasmic relief, feeling every ounce of his efforts and every ounce of his pleasure. You held him by his hair, leg anchoring over his back, feeling his tongue massage your inner walls. His voice vibrates inside you, somehow stealing your breath, and filling you with utter euphoria. 

‘You feel that? How much he wants you? How much he craves you. He’s been waiting for this day. And you should reward him. Don’t you think?’

You tugged him up, watch him gasping for air, replace one pair of lips with another. You flipped him on his back, gaining momentum, and relishing in the power of control, and swallowing his gasps. You aligned the hilt of his cock towards you, ensuring you wrapped it protection before it sat between the slit of your folds. 

Seungkwan tilted his head back, his eyes glistening with desire as he admired you, his gaze revealing his thoughts like an open book.  "You're so sexy," he murmured, the words spilling out without hesitation. While his look said it all, hearing it felt like a heated rush of affirmation, and it made you want him more.

You pushed his length in you, feeling his size pulsate through you, and a moan managed to pass through your lips. Shivers ran down through you, goosebumps pebbling your skin, and you realized the raging presence of Seungkwan was going to be the death of you. As he rocked inside you, he held your hips in place, guiding your form up and down on lap, adjusting to your squeeze, and adjusting to how it contracts. “Oh my god, please, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like I wanted,” You teased. 

Your lips brushed against his neck, grazing your teeth over his skin before making passionate kisses to his neck, grinding down on his body until there isn’t a hint of space between your bodies. You were growing weary–albeit needy–chasing a high that was so close to be conquered. You felt it, Seungkwan felt it, and damn well Jeonghan felt it. You needed more, just a little more.

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of your lungs, as if something vital had escaped from within you, and your movements were put to a halt. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, pushing the hair way from your face. “Not sure what happened. I promise–”

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.”

You heard his voice—or rather, an echo of Jeonghan’s voice—calling from below you, and as you met his gaze in Seungkwan’s eyes, your expression widened in shock. “Jeonghan,” you declared menacingly.

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.

You nudged at the body beneath you, careful of not hurting the host. “Get out of this poor human’s body right now! What happened to consent?”

“Oh, he’s very much consenting to the thrill of this level of intimacy,” Jeonghan replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Not when it involves a literal ghost!”

“Relax, he won’t remember a thing. My spirit won’t let him. All he’ll recall is the good time he had,” the body thief winked playfully.

“Bullshit! Do what’s right and let the boy go.”

“But I am doing what’s right.” His grip tightened around your hips, pushing Seungkwan’s cock deeper in you as if it was possible and ebbing weak moans from as he pulled you closer, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “So right.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you stammered, your pulse quickening.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”

Your head was screaming all kinds of denial, but your body thrived off his confidence, his energy was flowing through you, splitting through you and hitting a spot of pliancy. This was so wrong. “This…this is violating…for him…”

“But you love it, don’t you? It’s like a wicked thrill, a tantalizing pleasure that feeds your deepest, most tumultuous desires.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the pulsating cock rocking your very core. “And what kind of desires is that?”

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around Seungkwan’s shoulders in a desperate bid for security as you fought against Jeonghan’s seductive temptations. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Then, why don’t you get off of me?”

“It’s Seungkwan I can’t get off of,” You clarified.

You could recognize Jeonghan’s smile, even though it was plastered on Seungkwan’s face—so conniving, so devilish. It exuded an intoxicating power that was inhumane, but irresistible. “But it's me you’re riding–and fucking hell–you look so good doing it.”

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, pleading for release from his coercion, but as you feared, mercy eluded you entirely.

“Yes,” His palm rode up your body, his lips parting in haughty confidence. “Beg for me, beg for me to fuck you full.”

“...Fuck it. I want you to fuck me full.” You accepted him, feeling the tension of the cock inside you, ripple waves straight into your heat. 

Mindlessly, you accepted his domineering hand that landed on your mouth, feeling it travel past your lips, parting way with his thumb. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking them like candy, and the shame that once enveloped your paradoxical feelings dissipated, leaving only a deep hunger in its wake. 

Whether it was Jeonghan or Seungkwan beneath you, it was all true to its very core. You had an undeniable infatuation for your cute neighbor and a strange fascination with the handsome ghost. The connection you felt with both was more than palpable, leaving you with an unexplained frenzy of emotions that would require extensive therapy. You knew the logical choice was the one who was alive, but you had never considered that you could have both—especially not in such a chaotic, unorthodox three-way.

“Look at what a slut you are for us, your lips so perfect wrapped around these slender fingers of his.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly muttered to yourself, grinding harder, sucking Seungkwan’s fingers deeper, and gradually succumbing to Jeonghan’s demands.

Jeonghan let out a deep, rolling laugh that resonated from Seungkwan’s core, a sound so rich and dark it sent a momentary unease through you. “You’re simply giving into your desires, why fight it?”

“You damn well know why,” you spat out his fingers and gritted your teeth.

“Now that’s not nice,” His hand covered the shape of your ass, cupping them in his palms, “Do I need to show you how to be nicer to me?”

“Jeonghan,” you groaned, feeling his digits dig into your flesh as he spread them apart. 

“What’s that, baby?” he experimented, “Looks like I have to make this a teaching opportunity after all? Because you can’t show your gratitude?”

“Jeonghan, please.”

“Well, if you insist.” With an unexplainable, arcane, supernatural force, the dynamics were switched and Jeonghan had you on your stomach, ass conveniently placed in from of him. 

“Jeonghan!”

"I always knew you looked good from every angle, but wow—this one is something else." His hand glided over your curves, Seungkwan’s cock splitting down your divide, you grasped your thirst.

Anticipation was wreaking havoc on your sanity, leaving you in a deafening silence as you waited for Jeonghan to make his move, impatience following. “Will you just–”

A hand clashed against your backside, your skin stinging from impact, and relieving you from a ched yelp. Jeonghan braced you against a groin, the erection nudging at your skin. “So needy,” he chuckled. You felt the tip tease along your slip, eventually filling you up in that familiar way.

You whimper, the size still enticingly foreign, and back into his weight, feel yourself travel all the way down to the base.

“An impatient,” Jeonghan softly groans, grounding himself to you in careful, yet sharp thrusts.

You balled your sheets into fists, your voice muffled as you buried your face in a pillow.

He chuckled against his skin. “That good?”

“Y-yes,” you helplessly whispered.

He slammed down on you, releasing a squeaky spring sound from the bed, both embarrassing and strangely arousing. “Even when I do that?”

“Yes…more please…”

Jeonghan repeated the move, finding a steady rhythm, and watched as your skin and flesh recoiled back against him. He could feel his host basking in the intensity of this pleasure, tears swelling his eyes as your moans echoed in his ears, memorizing from the decibels your voice reached, to the way you looked from behind, and even how the flesh of thighs spilled when you collapsed wearily on the mattress.

“Insane,” He said in hushed whispers.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Stop what? Showing you how fucking perfect you are taking my cock?” He grunted.

You pressed your lips in a firm lip, clawing down on the bed as your core tightened, every pound drilling into you, giving into his indulgence and taking you along with him. He made every thrust count as the echo of skin slapping faded into the background.

“Oh please, help me cum.” You begged. “Please, please, please…”

His pace quickened, his rhythm erratic. “Yeah, you want you cum coat around my cock like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Jeonghan please, just give it to me.”

“You asked, and you shall receive.”

Finally, he bottomed out into you, unleashing the reins he held to prolong this moment and cut them lose. Your body was no longer yours, weakened by the spirit draining your energy. Your jaw fell slack, unable to close, a waning moaning stretching for miles, ecstasy coursing through your veins. 

You said one name, then another, and then again. This was really confusing but you were here, pounded into obvious for what it seems like endlessly, until you realized you were full and not with what you had initially anticipated. In the remenance of fatigue from the sex, you fail to notice the lack of protetction seeing as proof of you supernatural rendezvous was seeping out of you like a slow river.

“Jeonghan!” 

“What?” he drowsily answered as he claimed the side of the bed besides you, evidently using the extent of Seungkwan’s body.

“What the fuck happened to the condom?”

“Please, that’s my own cum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ectoplasm, you know. Comes from all sorts of places.”

“I hate you so much—am I gonna get pregnant with ghost kids?”

“Relax, and no you aren’t. It’s as effective as…something really ineffective–fuck, I’m tired.”

“And Seungkwan. What about Seungkwan?”

“He’s fine and his release became as good as mine when I possessed his body. His soul is asleep right about now, having a catnap. Now come here.” he pulled you towards him, throwing your covers over you and keeping you away from the draft into to room, slipping you into his arms. “Stop tiring yourself out any further and rest. Everything will be fine when he wakes up like a man that got laid: amazing.”

“Fine,” muttered with heavy eye lids, “but only because im really tired.”

And from that moment sleep was easy.

You woke up to those same arms, now only asleep and less “ghost-like” and snuggled up closer to him, a newly acclaimed heat source. A soft chuckle escaped him, holding you tighter in his embrace as a kiss fell on the top of your forehead. “Hey there.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. “Hi.”

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he said, planting another kiss on your nose. “Is it weird to say it felt so good I kinda blacked out?”

“Ha,” you shook your head, knowing the truth, “No, but thank you for the massive compliment.”

He grinned, a flush of red coating his cheeks, before pulling you into a deep and wonderful kiss, entanging his legs with yours. He seeped into realization when he found the mess between your legs, untouched since sex. “Oh shit, i did that, didn’t i?”

“It’s okay, I…have some sort of protection.”

“One moment.” Seungkwan came up naked from the bed, momentarily left the room, and with a noticeably wet hand towel. “I usually have an extra clean one on hand for after my workout. Glad I brought a backpack for no reason today.

As he inched closer, he sat between your legs, uncovering you from the blanket, and politely asked if he could help. When he received your consent, he brought it up to the mess, gently swiping between every crevice, ridding any remnants of cum that might have been left over. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you reassure, visibly gushing.

“Of course, I do.” He insisted, a sincere smile gracing his features. “It's my pleasure taking care of you.”

It was so disorienting going from the original to Jeonghan’s version and back to the original Seungkwan. As if you were once looking through a window of an alternate reality. Still a lot to process what happened.

“I don’t usually do this,” you try explaining yourself, “I just…I’ve been into you for a long time and I just thought, maybe, you felt the same.”

“I do,” he pressed his lips to your inner thigh. “A lot.”

“So you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”

“I wouldn’t object to the idea,” he grinned, “especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”

[radio-fmm]

one piece men react to you screaming their full name

ft. Ace, Zoro, Sanji

SFW, mentions of alcohol and smoking, gn reader

Masterlist

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

Ace

“PORTGAS D. ACE” your voice resonates through all the walls, rooms and every nook and cranny from the Moby Dick. The mentioned stood frozen at the dinner table fork still full of food, he knew better than to run away

“What did you do now?” Marco asked eyes wide open

“Nothing!… that I remember” Ace scratched the back of his head trying to make memory of his recent activities, searching for whatever may had upset you

Marco laughed in disbelief “You’re a dead man” he said before taking another sip of his drink

You entered the room, stomping your way to your clueless boyfriend “May I have a word with you?” The tone and the politeness of the sentence made Marco fear for his dear friend. Ace nodded before he stood up and followed behind smile beaming in hopes you’ll have some mercy. A chorus of teasing ‘UUUUH’s were heard as you exited the dining room.

“Have I told you how radiant you look today?” Ace leaned over to kiss your cheek but you ducked making him loose his balance

“Don’t start with me Portgas” a shiver ran down Ace’s back, both from fear and… something else.

“You did this” you held a pillow cover in front of his face “You burned my only bed sheets, and you’re getting me new ones even if you end up in debt with everyone on this ship”

Ace was attracted to you all the time, but there was something in the way you would always stand your ground and how gorgeous you looked right now that was knocking him out of his feet. He placed his hand in the one were you held the pillow cover and pulled you in for a hug

“Im sorry sweetheart I’d get you new ones on the next island, you can borrow mine for now” you rolled your eyes and sighed, he got you wrapped all around his finger and he knew it, you couldn’t be mad at him for long

“Of course I’m taking yours, you sleep at my bed every night anyways… but wash them first” Ace picked you up and pampered your face with kisses “You look so hot when you’re angry

Zoro

“RORONOA ZORO” you screamed while exiting to the deck where he was working out, all of the straw hats looked back at Zoro in fear, Sanji holding in a laugh

Few things made this man flinch but he couldn’t help but catch himself lose balance when he heard his full name exit your lips in such an angry tone followed by your big stumps getting louder as you got closer

Everyone wrapped up whatever they were doing and ran off to the kitchen, leaving Zoro to face his demise alone

“What now?” He played it off trying to sound as nonchalant as he could not even looking your direction

“How many times have I asked you to not leave your sake around my desk?” If looks could kill your boyfriend would be a dead man

“Where am I supposed to put it then?” He scoffed crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked at you for a second and his heart clenched at the cute way your brows furrowed and your arms rested on your hips

“Oh! I don’t know maybe, just getting silly here, IN THE PANTRY WHERE IT BELONGS!” Zoros condecency was driving you insane making your tone scale

The swordsman noticed how you were getting tense and teardrops threaten to run down your cheeks, he sighed a little embarrassed he had made you this upset. He cupped your cheeks while he apologized in that soft tone he reserved just for you

“I’m sorry I forgot to put it away last night, it won’t happen again I promise” he drew comforting circles around your cheek as he whispered

“It got all over my notebooks” oh so that’s why you were so shaken up

“I’ll clean it up baby” your boyfriend kissed your forehead as he made his way to the kitchen for a towel, as he opened the door every crew member fell comically on top of each other, they were ears dropping as they do.

Before Zoro could complain, your sweet laugh was heard at the distance which made him smile a little “You should listen to her mosshead” Sanji muttered which made the swordsman’s smile drop and scream back at him

Sanji

“BLACK LEG SANJI” even though you were screaming at him, the cook couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the way you wouldn’t use his birth last name as you knew he despised it and what it stand for, instead raging while using his public name.

You stormed in the kitchen eyes fixed on him, even angry Sanji thought you were breathtaking

“Yes my world?” he beamed a smile at you which you didn’t know if it annoyed or charmed you

“What have I said about smoking indoors?” Sanji felt the air get stuck in his throat, his eyes drifted from yours in shame

“I uhm-“ he laughed nervously as you got closer and closer cornering him against the counter, both hands caging him while they rested on said counter

“You know damn well I hate when my clothes smell like cigarettes, now imagine how I feel when my whole room stinks” you grabbed Sanjis tie to move his face closer to yours without breaking eye contact, you knew exactly what to do to make him a nervous wreck

The blondes heart couldn’t help but skip several beats at the way you were acting right now, he felt bad about upsetting you but he could get used to this side of you

“My apologies love, you know I cant manage to go without a smoke and sometimes I don’t want to leave your side” he twitched when his gaze met yours as he tried to explain himself

“Well you better start to manage” with a torturous slow move you took the cigarette that hanged from your boyfriends lips and threw it on the floor before stepping on it to take it out “Or I’ll move out of the room” you smiled teasingly while exploring his handsome features, stopping at his lips.

The cook turned all shades of red and pink breathing heavily, squirming a “Yes ma’m” before you kissed him passionately and breaking it abruptly

You winked at him before leaving the poor poor man absolutely stunted and a hot mess

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

Hi! This is my first time doing this type of format so tell me what you think and feel free to request. English is not my first language so correct me if I made any mistakes.

[sp4ceboo]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: ty taylor swift i attempted to base this fic on your song but then i divulged as normal

tw: 18+, smut, p in v, inkpie, oral (both recieving), sub feyd by which i mean feyd is DOMMED, spit, degradation + praise, one spank kinda, swearing, lil bit of crying, mention of evil baron activities so sa + pedophilia, tiny mention of cheating but none actually happens, lmk if there's anything else bc lbr there probably is i just forgot it

wc: 3.9k

Feyd-Rautha has gravely underestimated you.

It is true that you are not strong in terms of Harkonnen definitions, but you expected a man destined to father the Kwisatz Haderach to be able to see past that. What was that the Bene Gesserit were saying about superior genetics? You don’t see even a glimpse of that in his frosty gaze when he regards you - he looks at you as if you’re a delicate vase that may shatter in the lightest of breezes. He thinks he needs to fear breaking you.

He misses how you miss nothing.

You are not Bene Gesserit; you are merely one of their pawns, a genetic machination produced from centuries of manipulations and deceptions, but you can read a man better than the majority of their number.

The seething jealousy in the clenching off Glossu Rabban’s fists is like a monster sinking its venom laced fangs into his heart: starkly evident to you - as evident as the barely repressed, parasitic fear of inadequacy that lurks like a second beast within the first. Just the same, the gazes the Baron sends your husband do not escape you. Nor does the caged, wild look that washes over him whenever you leave his uncle’s chambers: the look of a man who inside is still a boy, relief washing over him that he has left unscathed and untouched for another time.

Even more nuanced than that, you see the vulnerability within Feyd-Rautha. He craves to be loved, the way he should have been as a child, when instead he was desired; all this at an age where the most he should have been doing was playing with carved wooden toys at his parent’s feet.

He believes no one can see the last, soft sliver of his heart that he’s fought to preserve, that wants nothing but to have someone to be vulnerable with, just because he’s buried it so deep inside of him that sometimes even he doesn’t think it’s there any more.

But you see it.

You see beneath it too, to a place that he himself is not fully aware of. A place where he hates who he has become - a wild, savage creature, bleeding from wounds that do not seem to close up, slipping in its own blood when no one can see.

It’s from here, from this place, that the urge to preserve you somehow originates. He thinks you are a flower whose petals will easily be crushed in his heavy, calloused hands, and he is wrong; in a strange way it endears you to him, that he believes that he is too rough to hold you. You do not think it is quite love - not yet, at least, it is only the third month of your marriage - but when you see him fighting to not be the beast that he is before you in an effort to spare you, something that is not just pity stirs in your heart.

You can hear him now, pacing, cursing under his breath in the antechambers. Sometimes he sleeps there, on the narrow sofa, and you’ve come to realise it is those nights when he wants you most. Aside from your wedding night, he has made no other attempts to produce an heir, and you find his restraint valiant, but stupid.

He could try as hard as he liked; he would not get anywhere close to breaking you.

Rising from your seat on the small, ornate stool at the vanity, you push open the door to the antechamber and take a step into the room. Feyd pauses his pacing with his back to you, and you can see the tension in his shoulders and the rigid way he holds his body before he turns around to face you. His pupils are dilated, his eyes dark, and you watch him regard you with something too untethered to be restraint.

‘Am I keeping you awake, wife?’

You shake your head. ‘I had not retired yet.’

You know he expects you to explain why you’ve interrupted him, but you remain quiet - your silence is as much of a tool as your words. He doesn’t speak either, but his eyes tell you enough; they do not leave your frame, hungry, torrid, and his fingers twitch as if they ache to slip you out of the simple shift you wear to sleep and touch you everywhere, to explore the curves and dips of your body.

Tilting your head, you smirk. ‘If you wish to give me your heirs, husband, I would advise another method that differs from staring one into me.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ he growls, but his face tells other tales.

Stepping forward, you reach out to him but he backs away. Still, the sheer thirst in his eyes sears away at you, even as his actions fight against it, his fingers closing on the doorknob. His hands are steady, his shoulders too, but the tightness in his muscles betrays him as always. Usually, you’d let him go now, but tonight you wish to see how far he will let you push him before he pushes back, so you snare his forearm in your fingers, tugging at him as he turns the knob.

He doesn’t look at you. ‘Don’t test me.’

You smile, cloyingly so. ‘Why not?’

Lightly, you trace your fingers down his chest, straightening the fabric of his black shirt while you gaze thoughtfully up at him through your lashes, lips curving upwards at the indecision in his eyes. He fights it, wrestles with the burning need, but in the end, he prevails, transforming it into a streak of anger that colours his voice as he tears himself from your grasp, recoiling as if your touch ignites pain within him - and maybe it is pain, that he wants you so but fears to indulge himself.

‘Get away from me.’

Feyd-Rautha does not give you a second to do so, because he is the one haring down the dimly lit corridor, his jaw tight, nails digging into his palms. Truthfully, you have never seen him move that fast, not even in the arena, and it almost makes you laugh - the great na-Baron fleeing from his wife and his own lecherous thoughts.

Maybe you did not win this round of tug of war, but he has asked something of you - to get away from him. Over the next few weeks, you follow this to the letter, avoiding him like the plague; you do not interrupt his pacing in the antechambers, nor do you haunt the bedroom like you normally do, asking him questions that he cannot answer. Feyd-Rautha is sensitive to change and you know he will seek the reason for it.

There is a barely cloaked intensity in his eyes when he finally corners you, and under it, you detect recognition: he sees that you are not who he thought you were, and he sees that you are not so different from him - always observing, always planning, and so, mind shatteringly hungry.

You were just dropping by the bed chambers to gather some of your clothes. The night before, you’d relocated yourself to one of the guest bedrooms - you could sense Feyd’s resolve cracking, and you knew that this would break it for certain: coming into his chambers to find them empty, wifeless, your side of the bed damningly cold. Jealousy is clear in his eyes as he backs you against the vanity, filling you with a rising sense of triumph.

‘What has caused this change in your behaviour, wife?’

You raise a brow, faking confusion. ‘What change? I would argue it is your behaviour that has changed, Feyd, you who can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.’

He snarls. ‘Who were you with last night?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get away from you,’ you reply, keeping up your pretence a little longer. ‘I slept in the guest quarters. You do not reciprocate any of my advances.’

‘Advances?’ He echoes, incredulous. ‘You taunt me, wife. It’s like you want me to break you.’

Cocking your head, you regard him coolly for a moment, letting some of the sharpness of your unmasked gaze leak through, letting him see the calculation in your eyes - you see the wariness it incites in him as he realises again that you are not who he thinks you are. Wordless, you lean in close to him, bringing your face to his, hovering there.

And then you let your arm drop and make a swipe for the knife at his belt.

Fast as a viper, he catches your wrist in your fingers, but you smile, challenge in your eyes as you bring his second blade to his neck. You’d slipped it out while he was distracted with your other hand, and he blinks at the cold press of it to his skin.

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it?’ You murmur. ‘You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of breaking me. Who’s afraid of little old me, huh? No one is, Feyd.’

‘They should be,’ he whispers, and when you meet his gaze, it sets you alight.

‘Indeed,’ you reply softly, letting your lower lip brush his.

As he kisses you, his hands seizing your face and locking you to him, you hook his knife’s blade in the collar of his shirt and drag it down, slicing the fabric until it flutters to the floor. Pulling away, you take him in - the moonlight planes of his sculpted chest, the broadness of his shoulders, his roiling, keen gaze. This man whets your appetite in the darkest kinds of ways: you cannot wait to ruin him.

Absently, you trace the outline of the tent in his pants with the tip of the knife blade. A breathy noise leaves him, and he freezes as if he can feel the cold kiss of the metal against his skin; you laugh, delighted that he is so mouldable in your hands.

‘Get on your knees,’ you command, seating yourself on the end of the bed.

It’s captivating, his lack of hesitation as he follows your orders. He sits back on his heels, looking up at you, and you can tell that he’s letting you see him like this, you can tell that if he didn’t want you to have him like this, you wouldn’t, but still, you reach out, gently skimming his shoulder with your fingertips.

‘All you have to do is say, and I will stop,’ you say.

He dips his chin. ‘I do not think I’ll have to.’

You smirk, something savage and powerful and thrillingly depraved rearing its head inside you, awakened by the sight of the na-Baron kneeling at your feet. That will be his last coherent sentence tonight.

Pausing, making him wait, you lean down a little, inspecting his features, the ardour in his eyes. He looks at you as if you hold the universe in your hands, as if you hung the stars in his sky, as if you are a  goddess, and he wants nothing but to worship you until he is expended.

You spit on him.

It lands on his cheek, and his eyes widen a fraction. A shudder wracks his body, and he simply stares up at you, breathing heavy, before slowly, his lips part, and he sticks out his tongue, his request evident. You grab his jaw, squeezing so that he opens up wider, and spit in his mouth - the low groan that leaves him as he swallows is fucking delectable.

His cock twitches in his pants when you pick up the knife. Tracing the blade over the shell of his ear, over his cheekbone and over his lips, you marvel at the way he holds still, awaiting what you’ll inflict on him next like a good little toy.

When the metal reaches his jaw, you nick the skin, drinking up his sharp intake of breath and the clench of his fists as the blood trickles down the column of his throat; you catch the droplet of crimson on your tongue, licking a careful stripe up his neck, grinning when you catch his lips in a kiss and he trembles at the taste of his own blood. Feyd is greedy, his tongue brushing against yours as he leans up into your touch, the way his mouth works against yours hot, fervent, pleading.

Planting a palm to his sternum, you push him back, chuckling when he strains to follow you, eyes glazed, lips swollen. You spot a streak of red and swipe your thumb over his lower lip, wiping it off before standing.

‘Get up, strip, and get on the bed,’ you bid him, pulling your own shift over your head.

Feyd scrambles to follow your orders, yanking his pants down, and you take your time to admire his muscle sheathed body; strength ripples beneath his skin, a sweet dichotomy to his weeping cock, rock hard and flushed rosy. He halts his movements, as if he’s pinned down by your appraising gaze.

‘For whom do you wait, husband?’

As he turns to get onto the bed, he’s a little too slow and you swat at his ass. A choked sound leaves him, and you laugh at the way his knees almost buckle. Feyd’s ears run red when he lies down on the mattress, and you straddle his thighs, sneering at the way he twists his fingers in the sheets, squirming beneath you.

‘Pathetic.’

You don’t give him time to respond, instead wrapping your fingers around his cock and pumping up and down fast, and he gasps at your rough touch, his back arching and his hands coming up to touch you - you wave them off you, meeting his eyes.

‘No touching,’ you intone, the hint of warning in your voice enough to render him obedient.

This time, you take his cock head in your mouth. He’s so fucking sensitive, reacting as if the sweep of your thumb down the underside of him and the slide of your tongue over him is mind shattering; it doesn’t take you long to get him teetering at the edge of his orgasm, just for you to pull away at the last moment.

His thigh jolts, weak pleas of your name leaving his lips, gripping the sheets so hard you wonder if they’ll rip. Again, you take him in your mouth, deeper, one hand dipping to play with his balls; you revel in the wretched sound that he makes when you hollow your cheeks around him, your teeth grazing up his length. You toy with him until you think he’s moments from breaking, until he’s writhing upon the sheets, face contorted in pleasure loaded with sweet, sweet agony.

‘Please let me come,’ he whimpers, voice cracking, the look in his eyes crazed, pitiful. ‘Please.’

You decide to give it to him, jerking him brutally fast until he comes; it hits him like a tidal wave - his eyes roll back in his skull, his body tensing, rigid and impossibly taut before he goes boneless, a broken cry of your name on his lips as he spills all over his stomach. A single, ecstatic tear slides down his cheek as his orgasm seizes him, snatching him up and shaking him like a ragdoll.

Lingering at his side, you wait until he’s come down from his high before getting up to retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom, perching on the bed beside him and cleaning up his come, pressing kisses to the surprisingly soft skin of his hips. One wavering hand comes to rest in your hair, and you glance up at him, biting back a smug grin at the dazed look in his eyes.

‘Feeling okay?’

He nods.

‘Words,’ you chide.

‘Y - yes, na-Baroness. Better than okay.’

You raise a brow at that. You did not specify for him to call  you anything, so this is all his doing; he fidgets beneath your gaze, and you note that he’s growing hard again, his cock stiffening between his thighs.

‘Can I…’ He begins, but trails off, thinking better of it.

‘No, little na-Baron,’ you reply coyly. ‘Tell me what you desire.’

His eyes scorch you with their yearning. ‘I want to taste you, na-Baroness.’

You smile. ‘As you wish.’

You lean back against the pillows, letting your legs fall open for him. It’s somewhat comical, the way his eyes widen as he sees your slick cunt, and he swallows harshly - you can almost sense his mouth watering. Carefully, reverently, almost, he nudges your knees over his wide shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy, admiring you. It’s as if he’s testing himself, waiting to see how long it takes for him to break and taste you.

Lurching forward, Feyd groans, low and deep and right against your clit when he laps at your heat, quickly becoming insatiable as his tongue moves masterfully at the apex of your legs, laving over your clit and curving in and out of you. Bolts of pleasure spear through your body, fierce like crackling lightning at the eye of a storm - he is everything to you in this moment. He shatters you, breaking you and mending you anew.

As he brings you closer, your body begins to shake and your legs close around his head; you suffocate him with your thighs, and you can tell he lives for it from the way he fervently grips your ass in his large hands, kneading the flesh and moaning into your pussy.

Something pulls tight within you, deliciously so, and you cry his name in warning, fingers curling around the base of his neck to hold him still as your hips buck, rutting into his face. Dimly, you can see him grinding into the mattress as you fuck yourself on his tongue - the chafe of his nose against your clit makes you shatter, and you fall apart for him with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

You’re still coming down from it when Feyd begins to lap at you again, dutifully cleaning you up, and you twitch with the slight overstimulation, hooking a finger under his chin to see his eyes: his gaze is loaded with the heat of a thousand suns, and yet somehow it is also bleary, drunk. A laugh escapes you, and you tug at his hand, encouraging him to lie beside you.

‘Good boy,’ you hum as he nuzzles into your touch. You can feel him achingly hard against your thigh, and you let yourself catch your breath before reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘Want to fuck me now, hm?’

He nods avidly. ‘Yes, na-Baroness.’

All it takes is for you to half spread your legs before he’s climbing eagerly between them, hesitating before looking up at you for permission. You dip your chin, smirking, and then he’s sinking into you, burying himself inside you.

Voice cracking, Feyd chokes out your name, and he shudders, gasping at the velvet vice of your cunt as it clenches, bearing down on him. Sharply, you rock your hips up to meet his, and this time, a soft, keening whine leaves him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He can barely keep himself from spilling inside you.

‘You can barely hold it, can’t you, my little na-Baron?’

His words come out jumbled, his speech scrambled, mind ground to a standstill by the all consuming heat of your cunt; he babbles out protests, saying that he can, desperate to prove he can, stammering that he wants to make you feel good.

Cruelly, you buck your hips up against his again, and a pained sound looses from his chest, but he thrusts to meet you, hips lurching forward, his arms almost buckling either side of your head. Panting, he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, unable to stifle the whimper that tears from the back of his throat when you rake your nails down his shoulder blades, claiming him, littering his shoulders and neck with bites.

‘That’s it,’ you sigh as he finds his pace. ‘Just like that, good boy.’

A strangled noise tears itself from him at your praise, and he fucks into you, frantic, almost feral. Eventually, his thrusts begin to turn sloppy, and you kiss him in order to steal his breath and taste his fervid moans of your name on your tongue as he comes deep inside you.

Pressing a palm to his lower back, you pin him there, buried snugly within your pussy as you reach down with your other hand and rub your clit hard - it takes but a moment for you to come, and he writhes at the cataclysmic feel of your walls fluttering around him, overstimulating him, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he comes again with your cunt milking his cock.

Completely spent, Feyd goes limp, and you rub your hand over his back, smoothing circles on his skin with your lips to his forehead. The post orgasm clarity begins to hit him, and you feel him go rigid - slowly, he pulls out, his seed leaking out now that he’s not filling you, and he attempts to get up, but his legs are too weak and he collapses beside you instead, his chest heaving, his eyes still a little hazy, still fucked out, even as he fights for lucidity.

There’s something on his face that cuts at your heart - a look of expectancy, as if he’s waiting for you to get up and leave now that you’ve had your fill of him. Concerned, you reach out, and he leans away from your touch.

‘Feyd,’ you murmur. ‘It was not too much, was it?’

‘N - no,’ he replies. ‘I just…’

Sitting up slowly, you look him right in the eyes. He stares back, bewildered, but you press a finger to his lips, foregoing your own fumbling words to instead recite the pledge of allegiance of a Harkonnen soldier to their general; his eyes widen - you know you have hit home. You’d exchanged wedding vows, of course, but these have a different meaning: you see it in the respectful way it is uttered, a soldier acknowledging his superior’s presence.

You pledge to him not only your heart, but your sword - your service - too.

‘Wife,’ Feyd bites out. ‘Surely you do not mean - ’

‘I mean it,’ you cut in. ‘Every word.’

Again, you reach for him, and this time he does not flinch away, letting you tuck him close to you, his breath coming out shaky. Gently, you tip up his chin, planting a chaste kiss on his parted lips, and he returns it slowly, wondrously, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle brush of his mouth against yours: the innocence of it is bittersweet - has anyone ever kissed him this tenderly?

Carefully, you withdraw, wanting to see him, but he does not let you meet his eyes, instead hiding his face in your neck, his lips at the hollow of your throat. You grant him the privacy of not being seen when you feel wetness on your skin, his hot tears tracking down and pooling in your collarbone - his hands ball at his sides, and you pry open his fingers and lace yours with his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Tightly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him with a hand cupping the back of his head, cradling him to your chest.

Your voice is quiet in the still air, but it carries as if through an arena, a promise arcing through the air like a soaring arrow.

‘You no longer walk this world alone, Feyd-Rautha.’

best believe when i started writing this i did not anticipate the 2x 'good boy's 🧍

dune taglist: @callumsgirl @oh-you-mean-me @insufferablyunbearable

[cameronspecial]

The Obligations Of A Fuck Buddy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 5.2K

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have made it very clear. They are only supposed to be each others' sexual release and that is it. However, what happens to their agreement when the lines start to blur?

Masterlist

Becoming fuck buddies with Rafe was a special choice for Y/N. Her emotions are always on display for everyone around her, so choosing to be with Rafe without any strings attached is out of character for her. However, once she gets to experience the skills Rafe possesses in the bedroom, she is prepared to try to do anything to keep being a part of that activity, including, letting him have his way with her out in the open on his dirt bike. His hand slips down her stomach to her aching core, “Come on, Pet. I know you want this.” He had dragged Y/N away from the bonfire and to his dirt bike hidden from sight anyone. At first, she was unsure about doing anything in public, yet Rafe had a way of convincing her to play along with the game. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, letting out a scrumptious moan. He freezes just within her underwear, “You are going to have to give me what I want if you want me to give you more.” “Please, Rafe. Let me feel your fingers inside of me,” she whimpers. Rafe chuckles and tugs her with him as he leans against his bike. His fingers make contact with her glistening cunt, using her wetness to lube his digits. She hunches forward at the feeling of him plunging into her depths. He begins dragging his fingers in and out of her, causing her eyes to roll to the back of her head.

“You like this, Pet? Being treated like a slut where anyone can see you,” he taunts with his lips pressed against the shell of her ear. Her head bobs, “It feels so good. More, please. Give me more, Rafe.” “My dirty little whore thinks she can tell me what to do. That’s not right. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson,” he tsks. Her eyebrows dip, questioning his words, when his speed increases and he starts to apply pressure to the bundle of nerves at the crest of her womanhood. This helps build a tension within her that is ready to be released. She closes her eyes when she is at the cusp of her orgasm and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe. He removes his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips to taste her. She whines, “No. No. No. Let me come. Please, Rafe.” “I’m sorry, Pet. If that is what you want, then you better get to work. Got to teach you who is in charge,” he warns, eyes flickering to his bugle. 

With his message clear as crystal, she drops to her knees and works on removing his belt. She pops the button of his pants and listens to the zip of his zipper, yanking his pants pass his bum. The tent in his pants causes her to stare at it in appreciation for a second. She knows once she removes his boxer briefs that she’ll be in sight of the thick veiny glory she normally drools over. Rafe grows impatient, “Get to work, Pet.” He hisses at the feeling of her nail accidentally catching his skin a bit. She issues her apology through a kiss to his angry tip. He groans, shoving her parted mouth onto him until he hits the back of her throat. His hands grip the seat of his motorcycle as she removes herself from his length and then brings him back into her mouth. She continues to bob her head on his length until he is spasming in her mouth. He pulls out of her to release himself all over her face and the top of her breasts exposed by her tank top. He yanks her up to her feet by her bicep. Her thumb comes to wipe off the cum on the bottom of her chin and she sucks it into her mouth with her gaze on him. He pulls her lips against his by her chin, “Good job, Pet. I think you deserve what is about to come next.” He spins her around to bend her over his mode of transportation. Her elbows make contact with the leather of the seat and she pops her backside out for him to take what he wants. 

The buckle clangs against itself while he brings the top of her pants and underwear to below her butt. He surveys the environment to see if anyone is around. No one is in sight, so he lines his tip at her opening and slams into her. His balls slap against her bump and his pace causes her to grip onto the seat. Her mouth falls open, letting out into the night her sounds of pleasure. “You are such a slutty girl, Pet. Do you want everyone to know what we are up to? I gotta shut you up so we don’t get caught,” he criticizes. He pulls her up by the hair so her back arches, which allows him to shove his fingers into her mouth. She knows to wrap her lips around the digits to mimic sucking his dick. His other hand stays steady on her waist to allow him to pound into her. 

He feels her tighten around his dick and flushes her against his hips. His hand on her waist drops to stimulate her clit. He doesn’t bother pulling out to just the tip anymore, opting to buck his hips wildly into her. She finally lets the peak of her pleasure roll over her and collapses onto his bike. He continues to thrust into her until he is groaning her name with his release. His DNA stains her inside, oozing out of her as he pulls out. She is on birth control and he always makes sure to send her Plan B the next morning. They aren’t exclusive but have agreed to use condoms with everyone else except each other. Being able to be with each other without any barriers is one of the main reasons they started their sexual relationship. She trusts Rafe to stick to their agreement and she doesn’t care what anyone else says. They get tested on the regular. His fingers tease her entrance to push the leaking substance back into her before hauling her bottoms up her body. “Now, Pet, you are going to go back to that party with the knowledge that only I can make you feel that amazing.” He pats her bum to send her off without any more dialogue between the two. She knows this whole arrangement is a bad idea, yet satisfies every need inside of her and she would be stupid to let him go. 

———

They aren’t a couple. The only obligation they have to each other is a sexual one. It means no feeling, no taking care of each other, and no talking about anything personal while solely in the company of each other. So, technically, she shouldn’t be at his door right now. She had recently heard one of her supposed friends calling her a bitch behind her back and she didn’t know who else to turn to for comfort. Her father won’t care unless it is university-related, she is pretty sure her mother loves her so-called friends more than her, and her brother is living in another state, meaning he can’t provide her with the hug she needs at the moment. She has other friends outside of the two trash talkers, but she isn’t sure who she can trust. So being in his arms is the best solution she can come up with. Her hand shakes as she raises it to the door and lets it rapt against it. She wipes her tears away during a wait for a response. The woosh from the door blows Rafe’s messy hair back. He stretches his arm in the air and curves back before giving her his attention. “Damn, you must be really horny, Pet. We had sex last night,” he grins, reaching for her wrist to draw him against his chest. She jerks away from him with a shake of her head. “I was actually hoping we could talk. Something happened and I need someone in my corn.”

Rafe lets out an annoyed sigh, “That’s not what we do, Y/N.” She notices his shift in what he calls her and second-guesses her attempt. However, she needs this. “I know. But I can’t talk to anyone else because they will be biased and I’m feeling vulnerable, to be honest with you,” she confides. Her teary eyes bore into his. His icy heart is unaffected by the water running down her face. His arms cross, “And that’s my problem how?” Her mouth gapes open in an attempt to find the right words. “We may not be dating, but I at least thought we were friends.”

“Well, we aren’t. So we either fuck or you can leave.” 

She debates the offer in her head. This isn’t exactly why she went to Rafe. Her goal is consolation, not pleasure. She observes the manner in which his muscles flex under her gaze. She trails up to his face and notices how his curtain bangs have fallen in front of his face. It causes her thighs to clench together in want. She answers by smacking her lips against him. He wraps his arms around her, letting him consume her completely. 

———

She doesn’t let herself collapse onto the bed beside him once they’ve both reached their highs. She learned a long time ago that it is easier to leave right away instead of giving herself a moment to recuperate from the bliss. Staying seconds longer would give her the illusion that they could be something more. It’s a delusion to think so. He is always there to remind her of that fact. Today is the epitome of what their relationship is. He doesn’t say anything as she gets off the bed to keep looking for her clothes. He reaches for his phone and scrolls through it. She doesn’t doubt for a second that he is planning his next hook-up for tonight. It takes everything in her power not to let the little bubble of jealousy pop. They aren’t dating. There are no feelings in this agreement she reminds herself. Finally, she is fully clothed and goes to get her phone on the nightstand. She reaches for the doorknob and is stopped by his sharp voice. “Don’t ever come to me again with that emotions shit again, Pet. I won’t hesitate to replace you if you do.” 

———

Cocaine can’t be his vice anymore. He doesn’t know what made him choose to abandon the substance all of a sudden, but a little voice in his head is telling him that it isn’t what he needs anymore. He has been finding himself leaning less and less toward it for months now, so it is about time that he tries to go fully sober. It hasn’t been easy, especially with the consistent antagonizing from his father. “And why should I trust you, Rafe? All you ever do is lie to me,” Ward yells, his face as red as a sunburn and veins bursting from his forehead. Rafe uncharacteristically cowers at his father’s tone, “Because I’m trying to get sober. I promise. I’m hoping it will help me have a clear head more often.” Ward chuckles in a way no family member should at that news. “Like you promised you would buy the generator but actually used the money for your bike. We were without power for a day, Rafe!” Ward criticizes. Rafe runs his fingers through his hair and yanks at the end of it. 

“I’ve already fucking apologized for that! What is it going to take to get you to believe that I’m changing?”

“Going back in time wouldn’t make me alter the way I see you. You are a fuck up, Rafe. It’s all you can ever be. Why can’t you be more like Sarah?”

The shrapnel of his father’s words slits at his heart, causing him to feel betrayed. Rafe storms out of the room and slams the door to his truck shut. His fist slams against the steering wheel with an angry yell. He has to get out of here, yet where would he go? Topper and Kelce would just make fun of him. Sarah and he aren’t exactly close and Wheezie is away for camp. In truth, even if the others were available, there is only one person he wants to be with right now. He takes a deep breath and runs his hands down his face. He starts the car, setting off toward his destination.

———

Y/N is pulled out of her slumber by banging coming from her front door. Her hand darts out to beside her bed to pick up the bat she keeps there for safety. The floorboards creak as she inches her way toward the sound with the bat raised. She can’t hide the slight tremor in her hand as she approaches. “Pet, it’s me. Please, open up. I need you.” She instantly recognizes the voice and rushes to the door. Once the door is open, Rafe is there before her with red eyes. However, she can tell it is from crying and not his normal vice. “Can I come in, please? I can’t be alone right now,” he begs. She brings her lip between her teeth. The petty part of her wants to say no. Wants to remind him that they were fuck buddies, that’s all. Yet, she has heard rumours around town about Rafe trying to get sober and she doesn’t want to risk him relapsing because she isn’t there for him in his time of need. She steps to the side to let him in. She doesn’t expect him to run to her with his arms out. He buries his head into her neck and his arms are around her. She laces her fingers through his hair, “What’s wrong?” She feels his tears hit her skin. “Why can’t my dad accept that I’m not Sarah?” he cries, tightening his hold on her. 

She presses her lips to his forehead for comfort, “I don’t know, Rafe. I want you to know that no matter what he says, you are just as good as Sarah and you matter just as much. Do you want to talk about it more?” She can feel his head shake from side to side against her chest. “No, I really just need to think it all through first. Can I sleep here tonight?” She has never heard him sound so broken before. It is so unlike his confident demeanour. Her response comes in lacing her fingers with his. She leads him to her bedroom and rummages through her drawers for something he can wear. She comes out empty because he is always so stubborn about not mixing emotions in their relationship and leaving a shirt behind counts as that for him. He musters up the ability to laugh, “It’s nothing you have never seen before, Pet.” He doesn’t shy away as he strips off his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers. No matter how many times she has seen his bare chest and toned legs, it doesn’t stop her heart from fluttering. 

She shakes herself out of her shameless stares and snuggles herself under her covers. He slides himself beside her, resting his head on her chest. Her eyes cast downward to see his eyelids are closed. The gentle rise and fall of his chest tells her he is sound asleep. Listening to her heartbeat soothes his aching heart. The steady rhymes remind him that she is looking out for him and he couldn’t be more thankful. 

———

The empty bed beside him makes him panic, except it subsides at the sounds of clatter coming from the kitchen. Footsteps approach the room and she stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips. He has never been here to see the way the morning sun causes a glow to fall on her face. His stomach does a flip at how it accentuates her beauty. The mug in her head lets out the delicious aroma of coffee. “Your clothes are in the dryer and there is coffee in a travel mug for you on the counter. You can return it the next time we hook up,” she announces, turning to go back to the communal area. He didn’t expect her to be so quick with getting him to leave. 

For some reason, the walls of his heart tighten at the thought of her wanting him gone. She follows him out of the room and gets his clothes from the laundry room. After he puts them on, he joins her in the other room. His hand wraps around the purple travel mug, his fingers touch as he brings the cup to his lips. She doesn’t acknowledge his entrance; instead, her eyes remain on her phone that is on the counter. His other hand goes up to scratch the back of his ear, “Do you have work today? I was thinking maybe we can go out to breakfast. You know… So I can tell you about last night.” Her pointed finger freezes over her phone and she doesn’t bother to tilt her head upwards as she looks at him through her lashes. She drops her shoulders and gives her full attention to him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That would involve emotions and you are the one always sayin-” she tries to explain, ahead of him cutting her off. “Saying that emotions aren’t part of the deal. No, you are right. It isn’t in the bounds of our relationship.” 

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry. I just think it is best to keep to the boundaries we set. Now that it is morning, you can talk about it with Topper or Kelce. They’ll probably be awake by now.” He frowns. She thinks he only came to her because his friends weren’t an option to go to, while it is partially true, another part of him merely liked the idea of being with her. That couldn’t be right though. She is meant to be a sexual release, that’s it. There had to be a different explanation as to why he wanted to be with her. It’s probably because he was thinking about sex to get his mind off of his argument. Yeah, that is why. “Yeah, that is so right,” he agrees, taking a step back with the travel mug still in hand. “I’m going to head out. Ummm… yeah.” He swings around, almost hitting the closed door because he underestimated the distance. He looks back at her with a nervous smile and steps back. The door whines as he pulls it open and shuts it behind her, leaving her to wonder what has the most self-assured and stubborn person she knows acting like a fool.

———

Rafe’s stare hardens whilst the room around him pays no attention to his line of site. They don’t notice the way her hair wraps around her finger. Or the harmonious giggle she lets out that Rafe swears he can hear even from across the room. Or how she is looking at him the way she used to look at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t remember the moment she stopped having that twinkle behind her gaze when looking at him. It didn’t used to matter to him, yet all of a sudden, ever since that night, it is all he yarns to receive. Now, her focus is on Derek. Derek doesn’t deserve her attention. He doesn’t know how to please her. He doesn’t know her favourite flowers are daffodils because she used to plant them with her grandmother. He doesn’t know the pressure she goes through with her dad about school and how most of her friends from the island are more focused on keeping up appearances as a Kook. She thinks he doesn’t listen to her or notice those tiny things, except he does. His brain is moving a million miles a minute until a bump on his shoulder shifts his notice. 

He looks up to see Topper trying to hand him a red solo cup. The grumpy Kook doesn’t take the drink, much to the annoyance of his friend. “What’s in it?” Rafe gruffs, swatting the outstretched arm away from him. Topper’s smile vanishes, “Jungle juice.” Rafe shakes his head. “I don’t want it,” he grumbles, turning his concentration back to Y/N. Anger fills him at what he sees. Derek’s fingers lace hers and he is tugging her toward the front entrance. His first instinct is to go after them, but then he remembers another part of their agreement. There is no exclusivity between them and this causes Rafe to grab the drink Topper offered. He downs it in one go, getting up to get another one. This is going to be a long night.

———

Y/N doesn’t need a summer job; however, she enjoys working the occasional shift at The Wreck. Tonight is one of the nights when Mike needs her help. She expertly maneuvers herself around the table and heads behind the counter to punch in her new order. At the sound of a voice clearing, she spins around to find Rafe sitting on a stool at the counter. She beams, “Hey, Rafe. What can I get for you?” 

“I don’t know, it depends. How long until your shift is over?”

“I work closing, so I’ll probably get off around eleven.”

“Perfect, I’ll have a burger with friends and a coke. Do you have plans for tonight?”

“Not that I know of, so yes, I can come over.” 

He grins like a child, whose parents told him he can get the toy he has been begging for, and lets her get back to work in hopes it will bring them to eleven faster. 

About half an hour later, a new figure enters the restaurant. Rafe recognizes the buzzed, almost bald, head and the dark chocolate eyes, immediately scowling at the man. The last time Rafe saw him, he was taking Y/N who knows where. “Hi, Y/N/N. How are you?” Derek greets, sitting beside Rafe with a flick of his chin. Rafe looks afraid in fear that his jealousy will show and he’ll get into a fight with the new arrival. She turns to Derek and her smile is so bright that the acid in Rafe’s stomach swirls around the pylorus like it is a drain. He has to control his strength so he doesn’t break the glass in his hand. His ears disconnect with his auditory cortex, not processing the conversation going on between the other two. “So are you doing anything after your shift is over?” Rafe finally catches up with the conversation at Derek’s attempt to make plans with Y/N. He expects her to say she can’t hang out with Derek, yet she doesn’t. She giggles, “I’m free. What did you have in mind?” Not wanting to hear what the man has planned, Rafe gets up from his seat, throws a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and rampages out of the restaurant. The clatter of the dishware because of the stool chair being shoved harshly against the counter causes her to notice Rafe’s exit. She excuses herself from the conversation and her shift, running after him. 

“Rafe, wait,” she yells in a pant. She watches as his footsteps falter and he looks at her. “I thought you were going to wait for me to finish my shift.” He scoffs, avoiding eye contact, “I was. Although, I didn’t see a point in staying once you had plans with Derek.” His words drip with hate when he utters the name. She traces the back of her knuckles; her guilt blossoms in her stomach at the disappointment on his face. “You’re right. I did promise to go to your house. I’m sorry. Let’s go now,” she apologizes. His head whips from side to side, “I’m good. I don’t need your pity.” She steps forward and takes his hand. “It’s not a pity thing. I want to go home with you because you are a good time,” she swears, squeezing his palm. He could benefit from being more angry, except all he wants is to tumble into bed with her. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get to his bedroom. The door closes and he steps closer to her, his warm hands cupping her cheeks. The tips of her eyebrows plunge slightly. His gentleness is something new. Usually, their sex is primal. The typical emotion running rampant was desire. His head drops closer to her and their lips meet in a gentle yet passionate fashion. He cradles the base of the school with his fingers through her hair. She has never felt so adored before. No one has ever given her attention intertwined with love. Her parents are always busy with work or each other. Her friends keep her at a distance, even if they love her. This. This is different. He sets the pace, slowly lifting her shirt and unbuttoning her pants. She matches his speed as she sheds off his clothes. They look each other in the eyes and silently agree that foreplay isn’t something that is going to happen tonight. Because tonight isn’t about getting off. It is about the intimate connection they can form by having sex. He walks her back toward his bed while they kiss, breaking apart so he can pull the sheets back. His head gestures toward the bed and she gets comfortable on it on all fours. 

He smiles and steps behind her. She can feel his hand on her shoulders as he twists them so that she is lying on her back. Her head forms an angle. Their go-to positions are ones where face-to-face contact isn’t necessary. Nevertheless, when they do missionary, it is so that he can choke her easier and harder. She is ready for the moment he enters her to have a little sting and is surprised when he eases his way in. She thinks he is going to through her legs over his shoulder to go deeper inside of her. That never happens either. He rests her legs around his waist, thrusting into her slowly and sweetly. His hands find their way back to her cheeks. She loves the heat it provides her. Her hips buck up with his movement to add to their pleasure and he may not be going as deep as he could, yet the intimacy provides all the satisfaction they need. 

They let out small pants as they worked together to bring each other to their climax. He remains inside of her while they both come down from their highs and collapse beside her. She gets up from the bed, ignoring his release that rushes down her leg. Her hand reaches for a tissue as she grabs her underwear off the floor. She steps further from his bed and he doesn’t stop himself from grabbing onto her wrist. Y/N twirls to look at him with curiosity in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she worries, trying to see any visible injuries on him. His eyes can’t meet hers and his thumb fidgets with the bone of her wrist, “Can you stay?” 

“Why would you want that? Wouldn’t that make this too personal for us?” 

“Because I want us to be personal.” 

Silence fills the air, both of them processing what he said. He figures he should add more to the statement and sits up. He doesn’t bother to cover himself after the blanket slides off his lap and onto the floor. “I was crazing to think that I could keep things purely physical with you. Because the truth is… I have fallen head over heels for you and the only thing I want is to be personal with you. I want something personal, and romantic, and everlasting. I can’t keep being your fuck buddy, Pet, because I need more from our relationship. I-.” His rant is cut off by her lips colliding with his. She rests her knees on either side of his waist. Their lips disconnect and her forehead touches his. He twirls a strand of hair around his finger as they stare at each other in soft pants. His other hand kneads at the skin above her bum. “I need those things too,” she whispers. He grins like a child, “So I guess that means you’ll say yes to a date.” “I would love to go on a date with you,” she agrees with a smile. They enjoy each other's hold for a few more minutes until he catches her trying to hide a yawn. He stands up and holds the bottom of her thighs to take her with him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. She doesn’t question when he walks to the bathroom and buries her head in his neck. 

He puts her on the counter and spreads her thighs apart. Her tired eyes watch him wet a wash cloth and clean off the dry cum between her legs, pressing a delicate kiss to her sensitive clit. He straightens to find her a new toothbrush and hands it to her. They brush their teeth together before he gets her a spare shirt from his bedroom. He helps her tug it over her body and carries her back to bed. He lies beside her, bringing the blanket to cover both of them. Throughout the whole routine, seeing her naked body gets him hard again, yet he ignores the rock between his legs and snuggles her into the crook of his neck. She feels how turned on he is and even though she is spent from their earlier round, she offers him a chance of release. “We can go another round if you want.” His head moves from side to side, “No, Pet. You’re tired. Let’s just sleep so you can get your energy back. Maybe in the morning.” She can’t disagree with him; nevertheless, there is something else that they can try that might be able to give him the same sensation he needs and she has wanted to try it. She looks at him with bashful eyes, “What if you put it in and didn’t move? Then we can go to sleep and maybe it will make you not as hard anymore.” 

Surprise flashes across his face and want brews in his stomach. He doesn’t think he has ever heard such a hot request before. He nods and brings the hand thrown over her waist down between their bodies to guide the head of his cock to her entrance. She places her hand on his chest and confirms she is ready for him. His thrust eases himself into her, her hand slightly digging into his skin for comfort. Once fully sheath inside of her, he kisses her and brings her closer to his front. “I love you,” he mutters against her lips. Her eyes are already fluttered shut, except she still hears his confession. “I love you too.”  They fall asleep with him buried in her and a romantic future on their minds.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[222col]

Sub boyfriend Tennis player Art who's playing in the Olympics and who's not allowed to touch you or touch himself during the period of games and you promising him the best and the most unforgettable sex after he wins the gold medal as a motivation so he's been winning game after game so now he reached the final and all he think about is the reward you promised him.

cont: 'He either ends up winning the game and him feeling ecstatic not because he won the gold medal but because he will finally get to touch you and feel you or he loses the match and you still gave him what he wanted but he's feeling deeply sad and crying during sex and constantly apologizing because he disappointed you and you're like reassuring him.' | 18+

"baby it's only for a few weeks." you reassure your boyfriend as he places the final things in his suitcase. he pouts up at you, readying himself for his time in the olympic village. "i'll be at all your matches, cheering you on, ready to give you your reward when you get that gold medal."

art had been instructed that during his time at the olympics, there was strictly no sexual activity allowed. he'd be staying at the olympic village while you stayed mere miles away in a hotel somewhere in paris. his coach reminded him that any sexual activity was strictly forbidden, including jerking off.

his only saving grace was the promise you made him, the best sex of his life once he won gold. you knew he was capable, he'd worked so hard to get to this stage of his life. he worked his way through the competition, facetiming you every night and exploring the city with you whenever he got a chance. if he didn't already want to win the medal, when he reached the final, all he could think about was the gold circle hanging around his neck as you rode him for hours.

his competitor is a seasoned pro, art knew he still had a chance, despite being younger than his opponent. entering the court, his eyes searching for you, seeing you in the stands, a usa tennis shirt tight to your body. you lift your sign to the air, cheering for your blonde haired boy as he walked over to his seat court-side. he loves how much you support him, seeing his name on your handmade sign makes his heart swell. he stretches and gets into position.

art wins the first set. "lets go, baby!" he hears your cheers as he collects his breath, cheesing from ear to ear. he's pushing through, losing the second set. trying to stay calm, but all he can think about is his reward slipping from his grip. he looks to you for reassurance, your sign still in the air, still chanting his name.

the final set is hard, his competitor forcing him to run wild on the court. he can feel the loss coming closer, ready to slap him around the face. his racket is slammed into the floor, his opponent jumping for joy. he slumps to the ground, racket thrown across the court. he's so disappointed, he's let you down. his opposition comes over, pulling him up to his feet, shaking his hand. art walks straight over to you after the niceties. reaching down over the barrier to hold his head in your hands. "i am so proud of you, art donaldson." he looks up to you through his lashes, tears welling up in his eyes. leaning over to kiss his forehead. "now go get that silver medal," he's on his tip toes to lean up and hug you tightly. "i can't wait to give you your reward as it hangs around your neck." whispering into his ear as his arms engulf you into him.

"but i didn't win," he's letting you go, his eyebrows turning up as he holds back his pout. your hands move back to his face, cupping his cheek, smiling so sweetly down to him. "baby, you played so so well, and out of all the players here, you got to the final, you got a medal, a silver medal!" kissing his forehead again, he just simply nods to you. you're grinning so wide at him, the only thing making him feel better about losing. art receives his medal on the podium, his elder competitor patting his back as the pictures are snapped. "you did good, kid."

you and art take a stroll back to your hotel, his medal hanging around his neck as you walk hand in hand. "baby i really am so proud of you." you tell him, bringing his hand up to your mouth to gently place a kiss on his fingers. "but i let you down." he grumbles as you both enter the elevator in your hotel. grabbing his face you pull him down to kiss you, his arms looping around your waist. "no you didn't, my love, you did so well, played so well." his eyes are welling up again as the two of you enter your hotel room. he slumps onto your bed, head resting against the headboard, holding his silver medal. placing your sign in the corner of the room, you watch him go to remove the medal from his neck. "don't you dare."

he's pouting, he wants you so bad, but he didn't win. he doesn't deserve the reward you promised if he won. you climb onto his lap, pulling his shirt over his head, the medal landing back on his chest. "i am so proud of you." you tell him between kisses placed on his stomach, moving your way up to his neck. tears are slowly falling from his eyes as you kiss his lips, he groans into your mouth as you grind against him. "i don't deserve it." he tells you as you shuffle down his body, pulling his shorts down as you go. "shhh, let me make you feel better." placing hot kisses to his thighs, looking up to him as his tears keep falling. pulling down his briefs, exposing his long aching cock. you kiss all the way up his length, swiping your tongue over the tip. "mmm, i'm sorry baby, i didn't want to let you down." his eyes are closed, stroking your hair as you slip his cock into your mouth. licking and sucking him gently, before his hips buck up, forcing him to the back of your throat. you giggle against him as spit falls from the corner of your mouth, moving your hand to play with his balls.

"i wasn't good enough, ugh- fuck" he mumbles apologies and pulls your head off his length. you lock eyes with him, slipping your shorts down your legs and discarding your tennis shirt across the room. climbing onto his lap once more. your wetness gliding over his cock. "you don't want your reward baby?" your arms around his neck, pulling your bodies together as you keep sliding over him. "i do, fuck- shit, baby i do, but i didn't-" he's cut off by you sliding down on his cock. "shh, let me look after you." the moan he makes is sinful, the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock for the first time in weeks is almost too much for him. his hands grasp hold of your ass, as you grind against him. your bodies move together in unison as his medal lifts up and down against his chest.

placing your feet down on the bed next to his thighs, bouncing up and down on his member, his hands moving to your hips to help your movement. he's crying, either from the loss or the sensation he's missed so deeply. "my good boy, bringing home a medal for me." placing kisses against his jaw as the room fills with the sound of skin slapping and your moans blending together as one. "i'm so sorry baby i- oh fuck," his words falling out his mouth as you move his face into your chest. his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and teething as you bounce faster on top of him.

"i'm gonna come," he groans against your chest, pulling you tighter to him. "i know baby, come for me, let me feel my special boy fill me up." his hips buck up, pushing you down onto him as he finishes inside of you. "shit, fuck, oh my god baby," he breathes into your chest. "that's my good boy." your bodies slump against each other, keeping him inside of you. kissing away the remaining tears on his cheeks.

"i really am sorry, baby, i didn't want to let you down." he tells you again, cupping his face in your hands. "art, you did not let me down. i'm more proud of you right now than i ever have been." placing a wet kiss against his lips. "think about how much better it'll feel when you win gold in a few years." you tell him, forehead to forehead, feeling him nod against you. "you're right baby," he finally smiles up to you, kissing your nose. "let's go get you cleaned up, pretty boy."

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Nerd! Fem! Reader: Drabbles ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 037 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Moonstruck ] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo can be what you call a jock . Is he not? 6 feet tall, a finey built body fit for the demanding sport he chose, undeniably attractive to the ladies with his looks that of an idol— You get the point.

But to him, he wouldn't have it any other way. Not that he is narcissistic of course.

It's just... Well,...

This life is way better than what he had to go through when the gates were open. Sure, he hasn't completely sealed the gates away, but this peace is still uncomparable.

As he looks up at the grey skies, he finds himself tearing from the clouds and looking at your distant figure from the bleachers busily jotting down something in your little notebook.

He heard of you from his many friends, or should he remain with them with how snarky they are? They often described you in degrading means, openly mocking your appearance, and discussing well... Your interests.

From what he heard, you were quite the eccentric person back then. Almost everyone in this class came from the same elementary school after all. They said you used to be the loudest most obnoxious girl in class, which led you directly into being the figure of mockery for young kids.

It was obvious that history made you into the reclused person that you are today. He never really pays attention to anyone, but Jinwoo somewhat knew of your presence around him— After all, he sat behind you.

Other than that? He never knew anything else about you.

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Jinwoo sighs as he packs up his notebook after the subject has ended. He was feeling deathly bored despite the fact that he needs to think about the research project that the previous teacher had assigned.

"..." He feels two gentle taps on his shoulder.

"U-uhm..." Jinwoo looks back, looking back at your awkward demeanour. "...Erm... We're assigned together for this project?.."

"Ah right," Jinwoo hums, "Wanna talk about it now? It's a free period after all"

"Sure..." You fidget in your fingers, actively avoiding Jinwoo's eyes that he found intriguing but didn't point out.

"The teacher wants us to discuss something about geology something" Jinwoo says boredly. "Any ideas?"

"..."

He watches you shrink to yourself and he clears his throat.

I must have come off as cold, he thought.

"I'm fine with anything," He said. "I'm not too good with these stuff so..."

"Twilight..." Jinwoo hears your small voice.

"Pardon?"

"We can do... The twilight zone." You say.

"???" Jinwoo tilts his head. "What's that?"

"...!" He watches you perk up, a distinctive glimmer in your eyes as you start shaking your fists a little. "I-it's uhm... The twilight zone or the mesopalagic which is underneath the epipelagic and is beneath the ocean surface and erm... Well, it's 1000 meters deep and since it's so deep it's really really dark, the only light you can see are the occasional bioluminescense flickers which is like a small light made by the deepsea creatures. I-it's basically made by a chemical reaction between luciferin and luciferase which are respectively a light-emitting molecule and luciferase is an enzyme. S-since the mesopalagic zone is really dark compared to the epipalagic zone that can still has a bit of light and algae can still have photosynthesis. The mesopalagic zone instead uses chemosynthesis that happens around hydrothermal vents and uhm... Methane seeps. Bacterias on the uhm sea floor, the very very bottom or inside other animals use the energies in err... Energies that are stored in chemical bonds of some stuff. We can use that for our research."

"..." Jinwoo felt like he just died three seconds into your little rant trying to explain what the twilight zone. He can't even recall one or two words from all that talking you did which he in turn felt a little guilty for. "S-sure... Let's go with the mesopela....Thing."

And that was the start of your friendship with Jinwoo.

He didn't really think much of it, the two of you managed to get a perfect score in the research project because of your extensive knowledge of the deep sea.

Jinwoo thought that would be end of his interactions with you, and yet he slowly finds himself looking for your presence. At first, it was just simple goodmornings and hellos whenever you both pass by eachother by the hallways during lunch— To him starting some small talk with you.

It really started so simple, it really did. But slowly, Jinwoo found himself purposely triggering your nerdy side.

At first, it was just him making an excuse to prolong the conversations. But now? He was actively listening to whatever you tell him to. He still had trouble memorizing or processing the many names and chemical, biological stuff you yap on and on about but in the end— He finds himself wanting to know more about it.

He wanted to learn more about you.

The sea really seemed to make you the happiest seeing how you perk up as you start explaining the life cycle of a sperm whale, or how beautiful the cetaceans are in general.

Because of your non-stop obsession with the deep, Jinwoo finds himself listening to whale songs that somehow helped him relax more at night.

He'd always have multiple nightmares whenever he slept, sometimes he dreams of his father's death, most times it's him relieving the agony he had gone through leveling up and the phantom pain of dying multiple times— Despite his age they still haunt him.

And when Jinwoo finds himself in the torturous cycle of death and misery, he hears the distant hum of whales. In his nightmares, he would follow those songs and get pulled out of his hell.

And he swears, that in every nightmare you would be the one to reach your hand out and taking him into paradise. He would wake up with his outstretched palm towards the ceiling, a tear falling down his cheek.

He craved to touch your fingers at that very moment, he wanted to feel the gentle caress of your digits on his face, the warmth of your skin against his, the sound of your tender voice reverberating in his ears as you explained to him all about the things you love.

Jinwoo would never really realize that he himself is growing soft on you. He knows that his friends would never shut up about how gentle he is around you, but he never really believes their words.

What's so wrong about him wanting to bask in you anyway?

He just wants to bask in your presence, drown in the moment just as you are with your love for the ocean.

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"My king" Igris's small head appears, hovering over Jinwoo's shoulder. "The queen, she's"

"Out with it," He says immediately as he had just had just finished changing out of his track suit.

"...She's hyperventilating, a few unruly morons decided to mock her of her unfortunate past and she is unwell," Igris explains. "Your orders, my lo—"

"Shadow Exchange."

Instantly, Jinwoo had transported himself to where you were. He wasn't too worried about you catching him, since you were too distracted pacing back and forth nibbling at the edge of your fingertips.

He shakes his head, knocking on the desk to catch your attention.

To which it did but it startled you.

"A-ah, Jinwoo..." You sputter, not meeting his grey eyes again as you fumble on yourself. "I... Didn't see you there."

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you" Jinwoo smiles gently, "Wanna go somewhere cool for a bit?"

"But... We're in school?" You tilts your head, watching him offer up a hand, waiting for you to accept his offer.

"It's okay, just trust me in this" He said.

You were hesitant at first, but eventually, you place your palm on Jinwoo's. He pulls you a bit close, his towering figure in front of you. But somehow, you felt completely safe as long as he is here.

The ground beneath you both would shift, from the pristine while tiles of your school to blue water reflecting your images. You throw your head up above your head, and up in the sky you could see fluffy and full white clouds moving ever so slowly.

"H-how?" You asked, baffled, your knees trembling as you feared that you will fall into water since you don't know how to swim.

"It's okay, it's okay" Jinwoo cooes, gently lifting your chin up. "Look at me. Look at me."

His grey eyes were so gentle, full of tenderness as it gazes upon you.

"Don't be scared," Jinwoo smiles, "It's all mine, so there's nothing to be scared of"

He then brings another hand out and flicks his finger, where the lovely sound of whale songs would catch your attention.

Your gaze would befall to your right, where a giant and majestic humpback blue whale would gracefully swim on the air.

More would appear around the both of you, from giant cetaceans to different species of jellyfish as well as sharks would fill the sky— All of them swimming about.

You find yourself so utterly mesmerized, your heart almost drumming out of your chest as you reach your hand up in the air, to which a few fish would come to your direction and nuzzle your fingers.

"It's kissing my fingertips, tickling me..." You say, your gleaming eyes looking at Jinwoo who was just watching you the whole time.

In his mind, Jinwoo would recall the conversations he has with his friends. They would never shut up about how he cant stop himself from hovering around you. How Jinwoo can't stop himself from ghosting his fingers around you. How his eyes cant hide away the adoration in them whenever you are in his sight. It was like he's this lovesick puppy.

And they're right.

He is utterly and completely devoted to you. He wants to give you everything that he has in his person, he wants to give you his paradise. If he can, he would rip his heart out and offer it to you.

He wanted to give you the world.

Everytime he listens to your ramblings, he finds himself lost in your presence. It was as if you yourself was his very own version of a lullaby.

And he wanted nothing more than to protect and love you.

"It's okay," Jinwoo says, intertwining his fingers with yours before bringing the back of your hand up to his lips— Where he would lightly kiss your knuckles. "Everything here, so long as I'm around you— You'll be safe and sound."

"Nothing and no one can ever hurt you, alright? So please, just keep talking like you always did, I like hearing about your love of the ocean. I want to see the prettier things of this world, so won't you tell me more?"

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

That was the day that Jinwoo became your boyfriend. Days spend with him are full of love and adoration... Minus the little anxiety you have in your heart as a lot of kids in your grade would disappear. The only similarity with them was that they all used to be your past bullies that you would tell Jinwoo and people who would mock you behind your back. But since you have Jinwoo, you'll be alright. The police will be in charge of that. That is,... If they are even smart enough to figure out who this little serial killer is.

꒰ 🪼A/N: I swear I will make the Jinwoo vs Sylus soon as well as the sequel to the Assassin au. But as of now I'm still stuck in writer's block with those and I am still figuring out what to do with everything else. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Corn Maze Date

My headcanons of the lads men taking you on a corn maze date A/N: I don’t know how other states do their corn mazes, but in mine they have food trucks and games, sweets & treats and pumpkin patches along with the corn maze [Requested by: Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

you mentioned wanting to go to a corn maze once and he planned his entire schedule around taking you to one

shows up outside your door telling you to get dressed

detours to try all the sweets “Zayne we need to get to the maze before it gets dark”

doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time even when you start stress squeezing it “If you hold my hand any tighter you’ll fracture it”

could easily find his way out but lets you lead

“are your feet getting tired?” carries you if you start getting tired

keeps you calm when you start to get nervous about being lost

takes over halfway through so he can go get more sweets after you said you’re kind of hungry

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

hides in the cornfield to scare you

whines and wants to be babied when you accidentally slap him for jumping out at you “I’m sorry it was a reflex” “kiss it and make it better”

lets you lead and follows close behind either holding your hand or the hem of your shirt/jacket

mini photoshoot in the maze and in the pumpkin patch

critiques the cornfield “this looks dry” “you’re a fish not a farmer don’t judge something you know nothing about”

tries to turn the corn into popcorn

uses his fire evol to light the way for you if/when it gets dark

gets bored and starts playing with your butt to entertain himself “can you stop that” “it’s so jiggly”

runs around the pumpkin patch bringing you the biggest pumpkins he can find “we can paint them when we get home!” “Why not carve them?” “and have fruit flies all over my porch? I think not”

drags you to play every activity they have before even glancing at the corn maze

teases you in the maze “maybe we should have gone right instead of left like I said”

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

picks the corn “Xavier stop you can’t take that” “the farmer won’t miss a few”

gets sleepy halfway through “we should take a nap here” “Get up”

prefers the pumpkin patch because he can lay on the hay bales

finds a tiny pumpkin and tells you it reminded him of you because it’s adorable

want to have a bite of every snack/food you get

shares all of his food with you “just open your mouth and say ahh”

holds your hand tightly while taking the lead (he’ll always be your Grandis Knight through and through)

creates fireflies to light the way when it starts getting dark while you’re in the maze

drags you into the cornfield to make out “we can’t stay hidden forever” “Just one more kiss”

somehow loses you at one point in the maze so he creates a bright ass light so you can find him

carries you on his back the rest of the way through so he won't lose you

lets you direct him while you’re being carried

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

“Anywhere is fine as long as I’m with you” happily accompanies you to a corn maze

brings the twins along because you said so

Luke & Kieran take off running in the maze (competing on who can get to the end first)

Sylus takes a bite of any food/snack you press to his lips

has a hand around your waist or holds your hand the whole day

watches with a smile as you and the twins scour the pumpkin patch for the biggest pumpkins

follows close behind while you lead the way through the maze

encourages you when you start overthinking and psyching yourself out

still teases you in the maze “oh look another dead end” “you could be more helpful you know”

lets you use Mephisto as your eyes in the sky when you get too frustrated

rubs your tummy when you eat too much

carries you to the car when you wear yourself out from running around with the twins

takes candid photos of you all day without you noticing

prints them out and keeps them in an album

[ckret2]

Chapter 60 of human Bill Cipher almost wasn't the Mystery Shack's prisoner but he's back here for some reason:

Everything you never even imagined about how Bill survived his execution.

(warning for cultists doing cultish activities in this chapter. and i don't mean "fantastical Blind Eye Society hijinks," i mean "discussing how to indoctrinate & isolate new recruits.)

####

"Hiya, Stan!" Bill Cipher beamed brilliantly. His gold tooth matched his new coat. "Didja miss me yet?"

Stan punched Bill in the nose.

Bill tumbled on his back, hand over his face. Voice tight with pain, he said, "Just so you know, I let you do that."

Stan's voice hit a pitch he hadn't been able to reach since puberty. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALIVE!"

Bill sat up gingerly. "Well, funny story—"

"NO! Nuh-uh, I'm finishing you properly this time!" Fists raised, Stan lunged at Bill.

Ford grabbed Stan from behind, one arm around his neck and one hooked up under his armpit. (Bill took the opportunity to scoot backward and get to his feet.) "Stanley! Stand down!"

"YOU!" Stan flung Ford's hands off and whirled around, pointing accusatorially at him. "You gave me your word! Tell me you didn't let Bill out."

"I didn't let Bill out."

Stan grabbed Ford's turtleneck. "Don't you lie to me!"

"I didn't let Bill out!" Ford ripped Stan's hands off his turtleneck. "He was already gone when I went into the kids' room."

"Then who— Who else would've known—"

Stan whirled around at a creak on the stairs. Dipper, halfway down the stairs, jumped when Stan saw him.

"DIPPER!" Stan stormed up to the stairs. "Did you help the demon escape?!"

"What, no!" Dipper took a step back up. "I don't even know how he got out! All I did was not say anything!"

"Well, who's left that could've helped him?!"

"BIIILL!" Mabel barreled down the stairs. "YOU CAME BACK!" She climbed on the stair railing, jumped off, and Bill—who'd crept inside behind Stan—was once more tackled to the ground.

Stan's hands twisted in the air like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to strangle someone, punch something, or pull out his own hair. He finally settled on curling them into fists and shaking them at God. "AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T KNOW THE DEMON'S ALIVE?!"

Soos, still sitting in the living room by himself, staring into space, voice hushed with horror, asked, "So who did I sweep into the flower vase..."

"Okay, family meeting!" Stan pointed at the living room, "Right now! You," he pointed at Bill, "upstairs! I don't wanna look at you and your—your stupid Las Vegas magician sequined coat!"

Bill sat up with a wince and grinned, "Oh, do you like it?" He took off his backpack and checked to see if its contents had been crushed when he was knocked down twice.

"You look like a circus clown!"

"I liked the Vegas magician thing better."

"GO!" Stan pointed up the stairs.

Bill raised his hands, rolling his eye as he started up the stairs. "Fine, fine—"

Stan grabbed Bill's wrist, making him drop his backpack. "STOP!"

"Make up your mind!"

Stan yanked one half of the enchanted friendship bracelets down over Bill's wrist. "You're not getting out again. Not on my watch."

Bill jerked his arm free, shot Stan a dirty look, and stomped up the stairs, umbrella clutched angrily in one hand and backpack in the other. Stan pulled the other half of the bracelet on.

In the living room, Ford, Dipper, and Mabel were lined up shamefacedly on the couch, like three students waiting to be lectured by the principal. Stan glowered at them each, fists on his hips. "Now, I wanna know why my own family all joined in some big secret conspiracy to help Cipher escape! Is it alien mind control?! Did you join a cult?!"

Mabel took a deep breath. "I saved him because he's my friend and I don't want him to die and he really is getting better and you'd all see it if you just gave him a chance to prove it and you just don't understand how he thinks like I do"—she took another breath—"and I promise he won't try to take over the world again just give him a chance!"

Stan's glare melted into something close to guilt. "You're... you're fine, pumpkin. I know you wouldn't have let your friend get hurt." He shot a glare at the other two conspirators. "Which is why we weren't going to tell her."

"Listen," Dipper said, "I still hate him and I don't trust him, but—but I heard part of a poem about Bill that I'm sure is a prophecy; which means he's important, we'll probably need him to save the town or something! So we can't let him die before then! He's already passed up chances to kill us and even saved Grunkle Ford and me, that proves he can restrain himself enough to be useful!" He winced, "Plus... I didn't wanna make Mabel sad. I have seen a future where she loses a friend, and it is not pretty."

Mabel leaned against Dipper. "Thanks, bro-bro."

Stan screwed up his face, but just muttered angrily under his breath about stupid prophecies and stupid life saving, and turned his glare on Ford. "Well? What's your excuse?"

Ford didn't answer, staring down at his hands, grimacing as he searched for an answer.

Stan pressed, "You told me that if you couldn't pull the trigger, you'd give me the gun. Why didn't you?"

"Because I could have pulled it! The situation was different, I—I only changed my mind because he wasn't there. If he had been, I'd have done it—"

"Would you? If you couldn't even tell me that he wasn't dead, do you really think that if he'd been right there, looking you in the eyes, you'd have done it?"

In his mind's eye, Ford could see Bill, hiding under a towel, grinning up at him with one bright eye. And Bill, collapsed beside the lake, shaking all over, sobbing so hard he didn't even notice he was clinging to Ford's stupid borrowed t-shirt like a lifeline. And Bill, staring tiredly across a chess board, telling Ford that the black king was taking the whole board down with him. And Bill, lighting up the room as he taught Ford's niece about his own long-extinct alien civilization.

And Bill, glowing golden, lighting up Ford's dream as he taught him about fifth-dimensional calculus.

Ford didn't answer.

Stan asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Softly, Ford said, "Because I don't want him to die."

Stan spread his arms in disbelief. "Well, why the hell not?!"

"Because—I'm—beginning to think that there might be a chance that Bill could..." he winced, "change. Maybe."

Stan's silence was deafening. Mabel leaned forward to stare around Dipper at Ford.

Ford rubbed his forehead. "I—it made sense yesterday, but it sounds stupid out loud."

Stan slowly shook his head. "Have you all lost your minds? You think he can change? You think he's part of some prophecy?! Y—Mabel, honey, you're the sweetest girl in the world, but you could do way better for friends than him."

Mabel sorta shrugged, sorta shook her head, sorta grimaced, and sorta nodded. "Yeah, but, I like him."

"WHY?!" Stan roared, making Mabel and Dipper both jump. "Why, why are any of you wasting your time on him?! Guys like him don't change! He's a dangerous, self-centered crook, and that's all he'll ever be. He's a rotten, greedy, lazy loser, he's only gotten as far as he has by conning guys smarter than him, he's got no regard for anybody but himself, all he does is cheat and lie, and if you let him stay in our lives he'll just ruin them! The best thing he could do for our family is—" Stan choked on a lump in his throat. "Is d-die."

The room was silent. Dipper and Mabel, leaning back into the sofa to get away from the rant, stared at him with wide eyes. Soos, over in an armchair bearing silent witness to this family drama, had his hands steepled in front of his face.

Stan couldn't look at Ford. He didn't know why Ford looked so sorrowful. Thickly, Stan asked, "All I want is to get rid of him—why don't you?"

He could hear Soos wince. "Oof."

Stan pointed at him. "Not a word. Not one word," he growled. "Fine—if none of you will deal with him properly," he cracked his knuckles, "I will."

Mabel flinched. Dipper moved to stand, "Grunkle Stan—" but stopped when Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

Stan stomped up the stairs. He'd wring that monster's stupid neck, and if it started the apocalypse then so be it—

He stopped halfway up the stairs. Bill was sitting on the steps, just around the landing corner, leaning against the wall, backpack in his lap. His soaked pant legs were dripping rainwater on the steps. "You," Stan snarled. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like, genius? I'm trying to eavesdrop," Bill said. "So what'd they say?"

"What? What did who say about what?"

"About leaving me alive. Why did they say they don't want me dead?"

He asked like he was genuinely curious. Like he didn't know.

Stan stared at Bill.

"I have a good idea for Shooting Star, but the other two...?" Bill made an uncertain gesture with his hand. "I've got my top guesses, but I want to know what clinched the deal."

Stan couldn't kill him, either.

He'd already lost this fight. Pathetic lonely dead con artist who'd rather lose a tooth than look scared, how could Stan take him out? He understood too well. "Just—shut your stupid mouth, take off that stupid circus outfit, and get out of my sight, Cipher."

Bill bristled. "Hey." He stood. "What's that for? It's not like I did anything wrong. Sure, I got your whole family in on a conspiracy, but that's their mistake! I was just doing what I had to! You can't blame me for—"

"I don't blame you," Stan said.

"You d— You don't." Cautiously, Bill asked, "You... don't?"

"How can I?" He shrugged heavily. "It was self-defense. Ford should've known better—but I can't blame you. I'm not an idiot, I don't expect you to just lay down and die for us."

"Oh." Bill squinted at Stan, like he thought this was a trick and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Oh. Okay." After a pause, voice uncharacteristically small and confused, he asked, "So I'm... not in trouble?"

Stan's face did a gymnastics routine. "Heck," he muttered. "No! I guess not! I don't like it, but I'm not gonna punish a guy for saving his own miserable worthless hide! Just... stay out of my way, I don't wanna see your stupid face."

"I'm just minding my own business," Bill said. He sat again and leaned on the wall, arms crossed, staring into space thoughtfully. (He didn't know what to do with a reality where he'd done something everyone hated, but nobody blamed him for it.)

Stan trudged back downstairs. Everyone was where he'd left them. He glowered at his family. They quietly waited. "Well," Stan said. "We're stuck with him now. Since somebody wasted the only bit of fuel we had that could kill him. Is everyone happy."

Nobody seemed particularly happy. Ford shifted on his seat. "Kids... you should go to bed. Stan and I need to talk."

Dipper and Mabel quickly took the opportunity to slide off the sofa and escape the room.

"Oh! Oh you bet we need to talk! You have no idea how much we need to talk—"

"Downstairs," Ford said firmly.

"What, you don't want everyone else to hear exactly what I think of your crazy stunt?"

Ford lowered his voice. "Downstairs where he can't overhear. It's important."

Stan's face twitched with the effort of suppressing more shouting; but then he growled, "Fine! But this had better be worth it. Lemme get my bathrobe, your stupid underground office is like a freezer..." He trudged from the room, grumbling. "Hey, demon! Take off your bracelet, I'm done being tied to your sorry hide." After a moment, the thread reappeared on the stair steps as they both took their ends off.

Dipper glared at Bill as he and Mabel passed him going up the stairs. Bill gave him a tiny, cheery wave. Dipper grumbled, "I can't believe you finally escaped like you wanted just to come right back."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea! Blame your sister!"

Mabel hugged him again. "Thanks for coming back."

Bill said, "Thanks for absorbing Stan's wrath for me!" He laughed.

The kids ran upstairs.

And Bill placed the tip of his broken umbrella on the stair step and quietly walked back down, winding the enchanted bracelets' thread into loops as he went.

####

Soos looked at Ford and shyly raised a hand. "So... when you said the kids should go to bed, did that include..."

"Yes, Soos," Ford said. "You should go too."

"Yes." He quietly pumped a fist. "One of the kids." As he left, he said, "Hey, Bill. Sweet coat."

Ford looked over. Hovering in the shadows of the entryway, almost glowing gold from the living room's light, Bill peered into the room. He was by the coat rack, hanging the bracelets back up. Bill said, "Fancy meeting you here."

Ford sighed irritably. "I'm not in the mood to talk, Cipher."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not down here for you." Bill gestured at the sofa Ford was on. "I want my bed back."

Right. Ford stood so Bill could retrieve the cushions.

As he grabbed the first cushion, Bill smirked at Ford. "So..." (Not here for you. Sure.) "What was it that swayed you?"

Ford just glowered at Bill.

Bill pressed, "Was it that handy list of starter spells I gave you? I doubt it was my chess prowess, that wasn't my best playing." He laughed, "What am I asking for! You humans are suckers for a life debt. You can consider it paid off—a life for a life, fair and square—"

"It wasn't any of those."

Bill's smile disappeared. "Then what?" he asked. "Don't tell me you did it out of the goodness of your heart, I've seen enough of yours not to buy that—"

"It was Mabel."

Bill dropped his first cushion on top of the second and awkwardly tried to get his arms around both. "What'd she say about me?"

"Nothing." Nothing that had changed Ford's mind, anyway. "It's how you treat her."

"How I—?" Bill was so baffled that he almost looked offended. "What are you talking about? I haven't been treating her any way at all! I'm just... just goofing around with her. She's a fun kid."

"Exactly," Ford said. "If you can treat just one odd little girl with kindness, for no reason—then maybe, just maybe, there's hope for you." He sighed; he felt the sternness in his face slacken. He felt tired. "At least... I want to hope there is."

There was a flash of something Ford couldn't recognize in Bill's face. Something like pain; something nearly like guilt. It was gone almost as soon as he saw it.

"Well, sure," Bill said flatly, glancing away like Ford had lost his interest. "Why wouldn't I be nice to her? I like weird freaks." He managed to stand with his awkward armload and turned away, cutting the conversation off. "Anyway. It's been a long night. I'm going to bed. You should too," he shot back over his shoulder from the bottom of the stairs, "when's the last time you got decent sleep? Your eye bags are more... bag than... eye." Bill cringed at himself. "Don— Don't say anything. I'm tired." He headed up the stairs, his umbrella hooked over his left elbow. They'd have to get that umbrella back.

Tomorrow. Ford couldn't be bothered tonight. Bill wasn't killing anybody before morning.

Ford leaned on the doorframe where he could still see Bill. "I hid your hoodie in the box of spare bedding in the loft. Under the spare pillows."

Bill stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back toward Ford. "You didn't incinerate it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I assumed you'd be back here eventually. I thought you'd want it."

Bill's face was unreadable.

He turned away from Ford and continued upstairs without saying a word.

Mabel's crayon drawing of Bill—"YOU CAN CHANGE. I BELIEVE IN YOU!"—felt like it was burning a hole in Ford's pocket.

####

Saturday, 7:52 a.m.

Bill stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar and timed his exit so he walked out of the Triple Digit Truck Stop just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

Gravity Falls really was a charming little town. Behind the times. The Triple Digit Truck Stop had expanded significantly in the past decades to add a convenience store and additional amenities for travelers, but the diner that made up the heart of it had barely changed. Same patchy grassy parking lot, same giant lumberjack sculpture watching over the cars... same public pay phones around the left side of the building.

He put in a few coins, punched in the number he'd memorized, and leaned against the wall while he waited to be answered. "Hey, Sue! Guess who?" A smile curled across his face. "That's right. Hey, how many people can say they've been personally called by god?" He laughed. "My Star Boy told you what preparations to make, right? Good. It's time. Midnight. Just north of the county line. I'll see you there."

Then he hung up the phone, left the clearing around the diner, and vanished into the trees.

Unless something dramatically changed, he'd be meeting his dear devotee that night.

####

9:30 p.m.

Something had dramatically changed.

His disloyal devotee had saved him.

It was a long walk to the county line. If Bill wanted to make his midnight meeting with his cultist, he had to leave before sunset.

He was still up on the cliff when the last of the light left the valley, pacing restlessly back and forth—first toward the side of the cliff overlooking the town (he could see the Mystery Shack's roof through the trees), then toward the side aimed away from the valley, toward the county line.

He should go. He needed to go. He needed to go now. He needed to go two hours ago.

He'd spent three out of the last four days hiking all over this town's forests and caves. In the last thirty-six hours he'd barely gotten a quick nap. (In the morning, when Mabel heard that Ford had covered for Bill, she'd come straight here.) He told himself he didn't have the energy for the hike to the county line. (What if Mabel got here and couldn't find him?)

If he didn't show up tonight, surely his cultist would try again tomorrow night. He'd go tomorrow.

It was fine. Everything would work out for him. Everything always worked out for him.

####

Sunday, 4:10 p.m.

He'd been right. Mabel had come straight here. As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched her wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth? Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Interesting question.

####

8:30 p.m.

It was a long walk to the county line. Bill packed his supplies—he didn't have that much to pack, he'd only ever needed enough food and shelter to last him a couple of days. He flung one backpack over each shoulder, closed and concealed the alien ship fragment, and shrunk his floating platform with the height-altering flashlight so he could wrap it in a shirt and stuff it in his second backpack.

And then, under the cover of the rain and the falling night, he began the hike north.

####

10:45 p.m.

Even to Bill's eyes, the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls was typically invisible. He could only see it where something touched it or passed through it, making waves travel out in circles from the point of contact. The circles glowed a dull coppery color at their peaks. Tonight, with the rain falling, the barrier rippled as though the rain were falling on the surface of a lake, and the whole thing glowed a faint filmy orange.

Precisely in the middle of the barrier was a sign marking the border of Roadkill County.

Ten feet beyond the barrier, just off the edge of the road, headlights and engine off and lurking beneath the trees, was a black car.

Bill walked straight through the weirdness barrier as though it wasn't even there. He didn't feel a thing.

The car engine started and the headlights turned on. Bill didn't even blink. The driver's door flew open and Sue popped out, fumbling to open an umbrella as she did. "Bill Cipher?"

"Hiya, Sue! You made it early."

"Oh, thank goodness." She hurried up to him. "I was so worried—I didn't know if I'd come to the wrong place, or if something had happened... And when I didn't hear anything from you the next day, and Gideon didn't know anything..." (Great, she'd gotten Gideon involved?) She started to offer Bill her umbrella, realized he was already holding a closed umbrella as a cane, looked up as she registered that no rain was falling on him, then stared at him in wonder.

"Yeah, sorry about that—an unavoidable emergency came up, I couldn't get out and couldn't call." And he'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep. "But look at you, loyal enough to come try again the next night! You're a rare sort of human soul, you know that? This world could use more people like you."

Sue flushed with pleasure. "Oh... thank you, I..."

Bill tilted his head toward the car. "Let's not talk out in the rain, huh? Another car's coming by in about a minute, I think we shouldn't be seen."

"Right! Of course, my lord." She hurried back to the car.

"There's a terrific diner just a few minutes up the road. We can talk there, it's safe enough. Cute decor, too—have you ever seen a twenty foot tall lumberjack...?" He paused uncertainly by the car. "Hey, Sue? This'll sound silly—but I'm gonna need you to get the passenger door."

The car's interior lights flashed on as Sue opened the passenger door, long enough to catch the glittery purple nail polish on Bill's fingers. Sue gave it a curious look. Even though they'd just gotten painted three days ago, the polish was already scuffed again from his escape; but a few tiny flower stickers were still sticking to his nails.

Bill grinned. "There's a thirteen-year-old staying in the shack. Sweetest thing. She's a real artist."

"Oh! I see." A smile stretched across Sue's face. Bill suspected it wasn't for Mabel. That's right, your god's good with children. He lets little girls give him goofy manicures and proudly shows them off. Chicks dig that kind of thing.

When they were both buckled in, Sue hesitated, holding the steering wheel. "Lord Cipher... I wanted to say... if my... actions the last time we met were out of line in any way, I want to apologize—"

Bill placed a finger under her chin, turned her face toward him, and kissed her lightly. (He was so smooth. He mentally congratulated himself.) "Sorry if you got confused. I had to keep the outsider from getting suspicious, get it?"

She sucked in a small breath. "I... yes. Yes, of course."

"Don't trust anything I say or do when unbelievers are listening. The only time you can be sure I'm telling the truth..." his voice dropped to a near whisper, "is when we're alone."

He could see the goosebumps raise on her arms. "Yes, my lord."

He was so good—and his worshipers were so, so stupid. That was why they followed him. "Now, let's get to that diner, huh?"

As they got on the road, he studied his nails; to a normal human it was too dark to see, but to Bill's eyes they still glittered bright purple. The question Mabel had asked him earlier had been playing over and over in his mind all afternoon: Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Naive, trusting kid.

She really thought she was his best option.

######

"... And then, as if directly launching a psychic attack on my ethereal essence and forcing me into a mortal fleshly form wasn't bad enough," Bill said, "they imprisoned me! And get this: just to rub salt in the wound, they thought it would be funny to take a divine muse who's spent an eternity helping mortals build doorways between dimensions—and curse it so it can't open doors. I have to ask my kidnappers to open the fridge for me. Have you ever heard something so condescending?"

"Insane. That's just sadistic," Sue said. "After all you tried to do for them."

"You don't know what a comfort it is to hear a human say that."

They fell silent as someone approached. A waitress stopped next to their table. "Hey, I—Goldie!"

"Dani Miranda! Hey, how's it going! I see you found the treasure map I left you."

Dani was wearing two large gold earrings, two heavy gold necklaces each with a large gem-encrusted pendant, and four rings. "Yes, oh my gosh. I cannot believe you knew where a whole treasure chest was and you just gave it to me? That's the nicest thing ever?"

That's right, it was. "What are you doing working here! You can retire on that kind of money. Unless you want to rebury all that gold yourself?" He'd respect that.

"I'm still getting it appraised. Besides, I like talking to the late night travelers."

Bill ordered a strawberry banana shake, the monthly pancake special—which meant three quarters of the pile covered in stripes of strawberry sauce and cream cheese frosting and one quarter covered in a big puddle of blueberry sauce—floppy bacon, three eggs prepared "any way except scrambled," a cup of bleu cheese dressing, a cup of salsa, and a bottle of hot sauce. Sue ordered a water and a small grilled chicken salad.

(Bill tried to remember whether the Death Valley girls were one of his "purify the flesh by practicing harsh asceticism" cults or his "hedonistically revel in the pleasures of the senses" cults, in case he needed to make up a justification for why god was ordering pancakes instead of practicing what he preached—something something a human body containing a divine soul burns through much more energy, maybe—but no, he had the Death Valley girls on psychedelics, that was a hedonism cult. He kept them controlled through drugs, exhaustion, and poor air conditioning, not starvation. Small grilled chicken salad, indeed. The only thing stronger than cult brainwashing was diet industry brainwashing.)

When Dani was safely out of earshot, Sue lowered her voice and asked, "'Goldie'?"

"My captors decided to keep my identity secret so an angry mob won't execute me before they get the chance," Bill said. "The entire town's against the All-Seeing Eye named Bill; but only a handful know there's anything unusual about the handsome human in the Mystery Shack they've been calling Goldie."

She looked taken aback at the angry mob comment. "The entire town's against you?" Her gaze roved around the Triple Digit Truck Stop, taking in a lone trucker several tables away and a bored waiter scrolling on his phone behind the counter. "Is there anyone we can trust?"

"Gideon's on our side, of course—good kid—but, well... he isn't completely reliable. You know what happens with child celebrities. The fame and fortune spoils 'em a bit."

"I never would have guessed from his television appearances. He seems so... gracious."

Bill choked back a laugh. "He'll grow up all right—he's just going through a phase. But I'd rather not trust him with more involvement than necessary until he... matures a little."

"I understand." Sue sighed. "It's too bad the dawn of the new age didn't begin closer to us, where we could have assisted your work."

She didn't have the guts to question her god, but Bill heard the implicit question: why here? Why in some tiny tourist town that didn't even like tourists, buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere, amongst the ignorant ungrateful masses? "Yeah—too bad," Bill agreed with a shrug. "But hey, I didn't choose where the veil between worlds would be thinnest! There's energy in this town like nowhere else on your planet. It's the only place where a machine built with modern human technology is strong enough to punch through dimensions—and that's with the help of extraterrestrial equipment."

Besides, he didn't like Death Valley.

Dani returned from the kitchen. "One chicken salad, and one breakfast combo with the pancakes of the month."

"Great! I'm starving." Bill picked up the little plastic cup of salsa and dumped it into his shake. Sue choked on her water.

Dani's brows shot up. "Is—is that good?"

"What can I say, I've got the palate of an alien." (Sue choked on the sip she'd taken to recover from her first sip of water.) Bill poured the bleu cheese over his eggs, then started drizzling hot sauce on his pancakes. "Anyway, it keeps people from stealing my food."

"I guess so!" Dani laughed. She hovered near their table a little too long; and then she said, "Okay, I've got to ask: how did you know where to find buried treasure? I mean...!"

"I know lots of things." He fought down a smirk. "I happen to be psychic."

"No way." But she looked curious. She wanted to believe.

Bill had had a hunch that giving her that treasure would pay off. Nice to know his understanding of human nature was still sharp, even when he couldn't double-check the far future to see how his meddling would turn out. "If I wasn't psychic, would I have known your last name? Or where that treasure chest was?" he asked. "Or that you keep three pictures of tarantulas and a Canadian twenty in your wallet? Or that you have recurring dreams of trying to hide in sewer manholes from a fire-breathing dragon?" While he waited for her to process that, he triumphantly dug into his pancakes. He had a feeling he wouldn't be eating much more before his food got cold.

Dani's smile had disappeared. The blood drained from her face. "How...?"

"I'm... let's say, connected to a higher plain. I can see dimensions most humans can't."

"It's true," Sue piped up. (Bill took the opportunity to dig into an egg. Oh, the bleu cheese was a great choice.) "The insights h—she's offered me and so many others have been... life-changing. World-changing." Good girl.

"Insights?" Dani asked weakly.

Bill shrugged modestly. "You could call me a 'spiritual teacher,' I suppose, but that makes it sound like I'm preaching some kind of religion! All I do is teach people what I know and tell people what I see if I think it'll help 'em. Like if I see a bunch of buried gold that could change the life of a nice kid working minimum wage."

Dani reflexively touched one of her necklaces.

"You didn't think going to parties in togas was my full-time job, did you?" Bill laughed.

Dani laughed feebly too. She hadn't moved away. She was closer now, her thigh leaning against the edge of the table. "That's... wow. I've never met an actual psychic before. I mean—I went to one of Lil Gideon's live shows, but that was before the big scandal and his arrest."

"You hate to see a pillar of the community go down like that, don't you?"

"What..." Dani swallowed hard, lowered her voice, and asked, "What kinds of things does a psychic 'teach'?"

Got her. "It depends! Everyone's got different lessons they need to learn, right?" He slid out of his seat, nodded toward Sue, and said, "Excuse me ladies—I'd love to elaborate, but I'm afraid I need to hit the restroom. Sue, why don't you tell her what you've learned about, give her a concrete idea of what I do."

"It would be my honor."

As Bill passed Sue, he leaned over and whispered, "Don't mention triangles." And then he got out of her way, to let Sue do what his Death Valley girls did best.

####

When he returned to his seat, Sue leaned over the table and murmured, "I got her phone number and email."

"Good work. I bet she'd be an easy recruit."

"I bet. She's already asking how much lessons cost."

"What'd you say?"

"You offer your help to others for free, but cover your living expenses and travel costs with donations."

"Attagirl." It had been easier to use that line when he was a triangle—of course our great mentor and muse doesn't need money, he's above such earthly concerns; his mortal devotees who spread his word, though, subsist on donations... It was better for his image. They'd just have to modify their fundraising pitch for a while. "This is exactly what I hoped would happen when I invited you to this diner. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Sue's face. "I'll follow up with her by phone. It's a pity we don't have enough time to really put the pressure on her in person."

"Why not? I bet we'd win her over in less than a week."

"I've already contacted the main compound in Death Valley. We've got plane tickets for first thing in the morning."

(Bill's blood ran cold. Somehow, it hadn't dawned on him until that moment that escaping Gravity Falls meant leaving Gravity Falls.)

"I have a motel room a few towns over, it was the closest I could find to Gravity Falls," Sue went on. "It's a straight shot to the Portland airport in the morning. Everyone's so excited—"

"Hold on," Bill said, figuring out what he was about to say next as he went. "There's been a last minute change of plans. I'm staying in Gravity Falls."

Sue stared at him. "But—my lord! You're a prisoner here, why wouldn't you come home to the people who love you?"

Love you, love you, love you. The word love alone was nearly enough to make him change his mind again. How he missed being revered. He could picture them now, these zealots who adored him so much they'd willingly bend their bodies into a throne to lift him up—and he didn't even need to turn them to stone first. It would be so easy to get away from all his human enemies forever...

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?

He shook his head. "Two reasons," he said. "One: no matter what, eventually I'll have to come back. The Age of the Triangle can only dawn in Gravity Falls. Staying makes it that much easier to get things started again. And two... I'm—working on a couple of potential recruits." He was? Wow. He was impressed at himself.

"You mean Gideon, or...?"

"No, others. One's the girl who helped me escape." He drummed his fingers on the table, calling attention to his purple fingernails. "She's a good kid. Lots of potential. Could be a real leader someday—she's a natural fit for our new world. She's got a few strings, but I'm working on helping her untie 'em."

Strings was a term that Mary, the leader of the Death Valley compound, had come up with and spread to the other girls: it meant petty mortal concerns that could tangle and tie you up, dragging you away from pursuing true spiritual growth and preparing for a better, liberated world. Your childhood religious beliefs were a string. The misguided ideas about morality you learned from the secular world were a string. Your job was a string. Your spouse was a string. Your family was a lot of strings. The intervention where your friends sat you down and told you they were worried about how much you'd changed lately and they were afraid you'd joined some kind of cult was a string. You had to cut them all.

And then Bill could tie on his puppet strings in their place.

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen. Fourteen at the end of the summer."

"Oh, wow—younger than I thought. That's great, kids are more open-minded," Sue said. "Though if she decides to join, it'll be hard to get her away from her family without a kidnapping charge..."

"Ugh, you don't need to remind me. I remember how we almost lost Karen and Jennifer. The legal system in this country is a mess." Bill had needed to torture that divorce court judge with nightmares for weeks before he caved and awarded Jennifer's mother sole custody so they could move to the Death Valley compound together. "But hey, got some good news: the other potential recruit. You remember the 'ex-cultist' who gave you gals my location. He turned on the humans who are pushing to execute me. He's almost back on our side. And he just so happens to be the girl's great-uncle. The family trusts him. If we can get 'em to pass her to him as her guardian, then she's ours. We can work out how to get her to the compound later." That was a lie. Bill was never handing Mabel to the Death Valley girls. She was better than them.

Sue looked less enthusiastic for this ex-cultist than she had for the girl. "Is he one of your captors...?"

Bill waved off her concerns, frowning. "Look. He's obviously been corrupted by the outside world. I lost contact with him for thirty years and he came back with more strings than a mop head. But I don't think he's beyond purification. He's already shown major improvement, now that he's once again under the shining light of my influence."

"But, this town..." Sue shook her head doubtfully. "Cipher, my lord, they nearly killed you once. You'd risk staying just to try to recruit two people? One who's already betrayed you—?"

"Yes!" Bill snapped. Sue flinched. "They're worth it." (He didn't question his own vehemence, his own anger at their value being doubted. He rarely questioned himself. If he asked questions, he might get answers.) "Don't you dare let this face fool you—I'm still your all-seeing god and I know what I'm doing better than you do. These two are perfect. The Age of the Triangle needs them. The traitor will repent. He WILL worship me again."

Sue stared at him with wide eyes; for a split second her breath froze in fear. She gave him a tiny nod. "Of course, my lord. My apologies."

Dani appeared at their table again. "Hey, how was everything?"

And Bill was immediately all good cheer. "Terrific, thanks!"

"Great!"

As Sue reached for her wallet, Dani waved her off. "Oh, don't worry about it—it's on the house." She winked. "I think I can afford to cover it."

Already making donations to the cause. Pretty soon all the profits from her treasure chest would be in one of Bill's bank accounts.

As they headed back out into the rain, Sue said, "So, we're staying in town at least long enough to pick up another three recruits?"

"Maybe four," Bill said. "There's another kid in town I think needs some help finding a direction."

"Another? Is this one old enough to leave home alone?"

"Not for a couple more years—but she's dying to get out just as fast as she can," Bill said. "I think you can handle her."

####

They parked just up the road from the Mystery Shack and turned the headlights off.

"Here's everything Gideon said you wanted," Sue said, handing over a paper bag. "Candles, matchbook, knife, pens, spare notebooks, five thousand dollars, a burner phone, new clothes..."

Bill pulled out a flashy golden sequin-covered coat. "Oooh!" He dug around until he also found a button-up shirt and a pair of black opera gloves. He shrugged on the shirt.

"That's... what Gideon said you requested, right?" Sue eyed the tacky, gaudy coat uncertainly.

"As long as I'm in this body, I don't have the benefit of showing up glowing in people's dreams when I have something they need to hear! I need to make them pay attention any way I can." Also, normal people had boring tastes and sequins were fantastic. He buttoned up the shirt.

"I also brought—I—thought you might want..." She held out a large pendant on a thin chain. It was an eye inscribed inside a triangle inscribed inside a circle; rays radiated out from the eye, as though it were the sun. Bill's heart leaped into his throat at the sight of it.

He realized this was the first time since his death that he'd seen his own face in any form other than a thirteen-year-old's artwork—and his own corpse. His face was ubiquitous on this planet; it was plastered on everything from money to buildings to common consumer goods. Its conspicuous absence in Gravity Falls was uncanny.

"I'm not sure if it's inappropriate—"

"It's perfect." Bill snatched the necklace from her and fiddled with the clasp until he got it on. "Exactly what I need. What did I always say about your intuition?" He considered the gloves, decided he wasn't ready to pull them on quite yet, and shrugged on the coat instead.

She restrained a pleased smile at the flattery. "Thank you, my lord."

She looked out the windshield. Just up the road was a flock of wooden signs and arrows pointing which way to turn to reach the Mystery Shack. Bill wondered whether Sue's eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that she could see their silhouettes. Sue said, "If you're not coming back to us yet, then I suppose it's time to..."

"Hold on a minute," Bill said. "You've been a bigger help tonight than you know. If it weren't for your loyalty and diligence, I wouldn't have been able to consider escaping." Blah blah blah. The truth was he'd been soaking in her reverence for the past hour and a half, like a dehydrated cactus under a cloudburst, and he wasn't leaving until he'd sucked every drop from her. "There isn't a lot I can do for you right now, trapped in this form, but you deserve a reward." He leaned toward her, his elbow against her car seat, hand on the headrest. "Let me express my gratitude the way I would have if we hadn't been interrupted during our last meeting." He tilted his head toward the back seat.

She froze as she processed the offer; and then she leaned in to kiss him hungrily.

####

"The tide's changing in this town," Bill said, pulling on his gloves, smoothing his hair back into place, putting his new coat back on. "The dawn is coming. You should stay in town now that our enemies are losing their teeth."

"Yes, Lord Cipher," she said breathlessly, still trying to get her wits about her.

(From what Bill had eavesdropped between her and Dani while he was pretending to be in the restroom, he was right that she'd been one of his "dissatisfied housewife" converts. This was probably the first time she'd ever been touched by somebody who understood anatomy. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to return the favor. But he'd been touched by reverent hands, he'd tasted tears, he'd heard a voice whine "Bill, my god, my god, my god—" That would have to hold him for a while.)

"And ditch the rental. Buy a used car," Bill said. "There's a place in town called Gleeful Auto Sales. Ask Bud for the best car on the lot, pay whatever he asks—and tell him Mr. Locke sent you."

"'Gleeful' as in...?"

"His father. My Star Boy was the only person in town who supported me—and the town's turned on his family for it. They could use our help."

Sue pursed her lips in displeasure. "Of course."

Bill gestured toward his door. "I think we've put this off long enough."

While he waited for her to get his door, he slung his two backpacks over each shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "'Coffee break's over; back on your heads.'"

Sue opened the door; he picked up his umbrella and stepped out into the rain.

As he walked back to his prison, he tucked his necklace beneath his shirt.

Bill reminded himself that he didn't have anything to be afraid of. Ford had thrown away the one shot that could have killed him. He was safe.

####

1:20 a.m.

As Stan followed Ford into his underground study, he shot a glance at the barren far end of the room. He grumbled, "Nice to see you haven't started putting triangle posters back up."

"I'm not..." Ford sighed in irritation. "Never mind."

"So what's so important that you had to drag me down to your nerd cave? If this isn't good—"

"I didn't waste our shot."

"What?"

At his metal worktable, Ford unlatched the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case and opened it. "You said I wasted the only fuel we had. I didn't." He detached the NowUSeeitNowUDontium's fuel tank and held it out. The needle on the side indicated it was about a quarter full—nowhere near its full capacity, but enough for one shot, and just as much as they'd brought home from Fiddleford's.

Stan gaped. "But... hold on—we saw that shot through the walls. How the heck did you fake...?"

"Before he started developing a process to generate Dontium, Fiddleford came up with a power adaptor that could plug into the town's electricity." Ford picked up the power cord wound up in the carrying case. "He determined that it only gave the Destabilizer enough power to operate like a laser, not destroy matter and energy, so we still needed to develop the Dontium... but, I still had the cord on hand."

####

Saturday, 12:07 p.m.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

He slid out its fuel tank, returned it to the case, and pulled out the cord.

He climbed down to the bedroom; unplugged the room's air conditioning unit from its dedicated higher voltage wall socket; and plugged in the Quantum Destabilizer's cord.

In the loft, trying to figure out how to plug the other end of the cord into the Quantum Destabilizer, he was suddenly struck by the hair-raising feeling that someone was watching him. He whipped around; the eye on Bill's hood stared at him resentfully.

Ford stared back at it a moment; then he stood, pulled the hoodie off the dummy, and stuffed it into a nearby box.

He knelt. He plugged in the cable. He carefully lined up the shot with the dummy.

He fired.

####

12:09 p.m.

The atmosphere abruptly grew eerily quiet and still as the unplugged air conditioning unit fell silent. There was a shrill, whistling shriek and a blast of blue-white light so brilliant it pierced the cracks of the wooden boards in the attic bedroom's walls.

Every light in the house went out as the Quantum Destabilizer's power adapter drained every drop of electricity in town.

####

12:10 p.m.

The air was hot, stagnant, and stuffy. There was a pile of ashes three feet in front of Ford's knees.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done:

The Quantum Destabilizer, at full power, completely destroyed all matter and energy.

It didn't leave behind ashes.

####

Monday, 1:23 a.m.

Ford said, "Bill left a letter in the attic asking me to help cover his getaway. If I didn't fire the gun, Bill would have known I'd told you he escaped. But if he could see the Quantum Destabilizer firing, he'd think I'd chosen his side. The only way to lure him back to the shack was by making him think I'd used up the only substance we have that could destroy him." He muttered, "Granted, I'd assumed he'd try to contact me secretly rather than knock on the door in the middle of the night, but..."

Stan gaped at Ford. Then he burst into loud laughter. "Sixer, you tricky sonova! I don't believe it!" He socked his arm. "I oughta retire from the conning business and hand it over to you!"

A smile slowly crept up Ford's face.

Stan pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the elevator. "So we can go up there and finish him off now, right? Just wait for him to fall asleep, and...?"

Ford's smile disappeared. "No."

"N—What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I..." He took a deep breath as he chose his words. "I was serious, earlier, when I... said I want to give him a chance."

"Wh—? Still? Ford, come on, you can't think he deserves it?"

"No. Of course not. Not even close." Ford didn't hesitate. "But... does he need to deserve a chance to get one? I wonder if maybe Mabel's on to something. If he could be better, he can't show us unless we give him the second chance—before he's earned it." He sounded like a lunatic. "He can't earn it if he's dead."

Stan looked for a moment like he wanted to argue; and then something painful flashed through his eyes; and then he looked away from Ford, scowling to himself as he thought. He sighed heavily. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. Darn it, I don't wanna do it either. The creep's actually starting to grow on me. Like some kind of foot fungus."

Ford huffed. "What's important is, if we give him a chance and he throws it away, I haven't left us unarmed." He gestured to the unplugged fuel tank.

Stan looked at the tank; then looked at Ford. "You could've told us about the power cord trick yesterday, and you didn't." Stan crossed his arms. "Be honest. Do you really think, if it came down to it, you'd be able to pull the trigger now?"

"No." And again Ford didn't hesitate. "I want to believe I could; but I... don't trust myself. Yesterday morning, I never would have thought I'd decide against executing him for any reason. I know Bill's playing games with me, and yet I'm still playing along—so what else might I do?" He shrugged helplessly. He hated that Bill could still take control of his mind—even when he couldn't physically get inside it. "To some extent, he's gotten into all our heads."

Stan grimaced, but he didn't argue.

"That's why I think Fiddleford should keep the Quantum Destabilizer. He's never been taken in by Bill's tricks. If it becomes necessary, he won't hesitate."

"You know the situation's bad when Old Man McGucket's the voice of reason," Stan muttered. "But, I like that idea.  We can drop it off with him in the morning."

Ford sighed. "He's probably spent the last two days thinking Bill's dead. He won't be happy to see us."

As they walked back to the elevator, Stan said, "Maybe leaving Bill alive isn't an end-of-the-world bad idea. How much trouble can he get in when he can't escape that magic barrier around town?"

"That's true," Ford said. "He's essentially harmless—at least to the rest of the universe."

Ford didn't have anything to be afraid of. Bill was trapped in the weirdness barrier; and he couldn't even leave the shack without help. They were safe.

####

As fancy as his new coat looked, Bill was was grateful to crawl back into the comfortingly formless body-obscuring shelter of his hoodie. He pulled his hood over his face, curled up on his usual cushions (sigh) in his usual spot (sigh), and quickly fell asleep.

And began to dream.

And, in his dream, saw through his nearby eyes.

In his sleep, he could see the attic from where he lay on his cushions. He sat up, realized his vision was crooked, straightened out his hood, and stood; and he began sleepwalking.

He crept silently downstairs. He walked backwards into the gift shop. He walked up to a spinning rack of keychains that Soos had set up on the display case, took off his necklace, and hung it from one of the hooks.

He pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof.

Bill was very good at lying. Bill was very good at lying to himself. No, that wasn't true—Bill had never lied to himself in his life, and he was willing to kill anyone who tried to say he had. Bill didn't tell himself lies; he told himself what should be the truth. Believing in a new reality was the first step toward making it real. All you had to do was lie until you weren't lying anymore—and then, you'd never lied at all. It was very simple.

He'd spent billions of years swimming in and out of dreams, until he was more comfortable with how reality worked in dreams than he was with how reality worked in actual reality; and there was no other state of existence where the line between truth and lie was blurriest. Unlike the physical world, where altering reality tended to require a little more actual work, in a dream, lying until it came true really was as simple as thinking about your new truth.

That was all it took. One bright, lucid thought to shine order through the confused fog of the subconscious.

Bill was getting good at lucid dreaming.

Bill was dreaming now.

A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy called the trap doors in the ceiling "roof lids."

No, that wasn't true. A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy call the roof lids "roof lids," because that was what they were. Bill couldn't open doors, didn't have the first idea of what to do with a door, but he could open lids. Jar lids. Pot lids. Toilet lids. He'd practiced with toilet lids—they had hinges, that made them the most similar to roof lids. If he could open all those lids, he could open these lids.

As he stared, the trap doors changed, in the way that dream images had of swimming and shifting dizzily before your eyes, into roof lids.

He climbed the ladder, pushed up the roof lid, climbed through; and then opened the second one that led onto the roof. He moved so silently. The rickety rungs and old wooden boards didn't even creak beneath his footsteps. He climbed out, sleepwalked his way to the roof hangout spot, and jumped off the roof.

He descended, slow as a feather, to land lightly on the ground, as though gravity hardly touched him.

Almost a month ago, on his birthday, Stan had taken off his gold chain and chucked it off into the forest so he could put on his birthday gift instead. Bill had watched enviously from the window. Now, triumphantly, he scooped up the long-coveted chain and wrapped it several times around his wrist.

And then he went to the tree where he'd hung up his second backpack full of contraband and retrieved it.

There were several pine trees right next to the shack. As near-weightless as Bill was in his dream, it was easy for him to climb one of the trees and get back on the roof.

In the gift shop, the vending machine swung open as Stan and Ford returned to the house level. They went into the living room, heading toward bed. The All-Seeing Eye hanging on the keychain rack watched as the door swung shut behind them. After waiting a few more seconds to ensure they were gone, Bill slid down onto the ladder, shut the roof lid, and jumped noiselessly to the floor. He retrieved his necklace from the keychain rack.

This was a vending machine. It wasn't a door. It clearly wasn't a door. Bill punched in the vending machine's code and stepped back as it swung aside for him. He crept down the stairs.

This was an elevator. The elevator had doors, and he didn't know how to open them, but he wasn't worrying about those. The doors would sort themselves out somehow. All he cared about was the elevator. He was NOT trying to open the doors. He wasn't even thinking about opening the doors. He pushed the button to call the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open. See, just like he'd thought: the doors took care of themselves.

He pushed the button for the lowest floor. The doors slid shut.

As he rode down, he wove his new necklace's thin chain between the links of Stan's much thicker chain. Oh yeah. That looked much better. 

The doors opened again into the interdimensional portal's control room.

He put on his necklace and stepped out. It was about time he made it back here. Bill really should have taken more time to check this place out at the start of summer. Why had he been in such a rush to kill the Pines? He'd had time travel. He could have rebuilt the entire portal by himself, won the lotto in Texas, spent a week in a seven star hotel, watched the Titanic sink, become President Trembley's First Lady, gotten Mysterious Mo's autograph, planted a NASA rocket in an Aztec temple just to give those ancient alien morons an undeserved but funny win, and then come back to finish the job.

Well, hindsight, whatever. At least he had a list of things to do if he ever got his hands on that time tape again. Anyway, he was back now.

He didn't think he'd need to be asleep to get back into the gift shop, and he probably needed his full brain turned on for the task ahead. He pulled his hood off, opened his eyes, and woke up.

The world looked so much less malleable.

He fished a notebook and red and black pens from his backpack, picked his way through the rubble of the portal, and began taking notes in Plaintext on how many parts were salvageable. Every few minutes, he flipped a page forward to begin work on blueprints for a new portal.

####

(And that concludes... season 1. idk out of how many seasons, but it sure feels like a season finale, don't it?

Next week's The Book Of Bill y'all! I'll be posting a chapter, but which chapter depends on TBOB. If TBOB is either compatible with the backstory I've got for Bill, or so wildly incompatible that there's no way I can reconcile my backstory so don't bother trying, I'll be posting a flashback chapter! But if TBOB is compatible enough that i MIGHT be able to reconcile it with my backstory with a lot of editing, I'll be posting the first chapter of "season 2" to give me time to edit the flashback. We'll find out next Tuesday!

In the meantime, a whole lot happened in this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think—about this chapter, about everything that's happened so far, about what's coming up, whatever!)

[celestialprincesse]

Following up from this idea here!

⋆˙⟡♡

The last twelve months had been surprisingly productive for Simon. He'd been reticent at first, pushed back against the barrage of support provided for him by both the military and those who'd remained close to him outside of mere workplace obligation. That said, it hadn't taken him long to realise how big of a change a civilian lifestyle would be after twelve years of active service. Therapy had been an uphill battle, but Tina, the nice lady he saw twice weekly, who specialised in supporting veterans and those suffering with complex PTSD, was as patient as a saint, and had eventually helped him to open up.

He still, however, struggled to find a new sense of purpose. Life had become quiet, sluggish and static. When Tina had suggested he get a pet, he'd tentatively agreed.

"Hi there! How can I help you today?" Is the sweet voice that shakes him from his thoughts, bringing him back to reality only to realise he now stands at the front of the queue, before the desk of his local adoption centre.

"I'm looking to adopt..." He trails off, somewhat awkward and still a little unsure of whether there's some sort of protocol with these things. "A dog. I'm looking to adopt a dog."

After having quietly filled in the required forms, nervous under the warm gaze of the front desk attendant, he allows himself to be shown to the kennels in which the canine residents of the centre play, sleep and eat. With a nervous, almost shy gaze, Simon takes in the rowdy pack of dogs before him, before crouching to meet the crowd of wet noses coming to check him out.

"Have you got any preferences?" You pipe up from behind him, absently scratching behind the ears of a three legged Bernese Mountain dog, Lucky, who stands loyally at your heels.

"Just - um," Simon murmurs, looking between you, the dog at your feet, and a funny looking beagle, intent on sniffing at the contents of his pockets. "Just some company really. Therapist told me I needed a reason to get out, so..."

Taking his silence as an invitation to speak up, a pensive hum fills the room as you flick though the chart listing the animals currently up for adoption, and what their ideal situation would be. "You said you're quite physically active?" You probe, shooting him a glance.

"Yeah. I run and stuff. Like to try and stay fit."

Another hum of confirmation breaks the quiet as you rule out some of the less mobile options, and, having seen the way he grimaced at a slightly dishevelled Chihuahua, you take the incentive to rule out the smaller lap dogs too. You can't help but to note the way he looks between you and your own little canine friend, a look you've seen countless times on the faces of clients, the look that says that they're interested.

"I'd introduce the two of you, but she's already spoken for I'm afraid." You hum, a wry smile pulling at your lips when you note the expression on his face, surprised at your astute observation. "She's not exactly the most mobile, either."

"Oh, yeah. Right." He stammers back awkwardly, shooting you a bashful smile.

"I do, however, have someone that might take your fancy?"

Taking the laminated sheet from your offered hand, Simon is met with a grainy image of an earnest looking dog, big, marble eyes seemingly staring at him from off of the page.

"He only came in a couple days back. Golden shepherd mix from what we can tell. About four and really good natured. He's at the vet right now, but we could book you in to meet him when he's back?"

"I'd - yeah - That'd be great. Thanks." He nods, a pale blush colouring his cheeks.

Better still, when he leaves the adoption centre with a beginners pet care brochure, flipping through the pages on the walk back home, he's met with a hastily scrawled phone number, and a little smiley face below it.

⋆˙⟡♡

[rafesfavgirl]

her lips on your neck — j. maybank

meant to have this up last night, but i got fucked up lolz

❝ since you admitted it, i keep picturing her lips on your neck, i can't unsee it ❞

pairing: cheater!jj x fem!reader

context: late at night, you get back to the obx from a week-long trip to new york with your parents and decide to surprise your boyfriend and best friends.

words: 1.4k+

warnings: cheating (i don't condone it!!), might break you, no happy ending, ANGST ANGST ANGST

"what the fuck are we suppose to tell y/n?" you hear pope mention your name, as he sat with john b in the enclosed back porch of the chateau and immediately stop yourself from joining them, curious as to what else they had to say.

"dude, i don't know," john b shrugged at him, the expression on his face looking as if he was torn between some hard decision.

what could they possibly be talking about?

"i mean, it's not like they meant for it to happen, right?" john b continued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of something.

"do you really think she'll see it that way?" pope asks him. "jj just slept with kie."

john b winces at pope's words like they were too hard for him to hear and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, your eyes becoming blurry with tears as anger starts coursing through your veins.

"we gotta tell her," pope adds.

they didn't even hear that you'd entered the porch, now only standing a few feet away from them.

"you just did." the sound of your voice causes them to snap their heads towards you, both of them now completely at a loss for words. "is jj here?" you speak slowly to stop your voice from shaking.

when neither of them reply and just exchange glances, you repeat yourself. "where's. jj."

"y/n…" john b starts to stand from his seat, but you don't let him finish or get any closer, before you're barging into the chateau.

you feel your body shake as jj comes out of one of the rooms chuckling and pulling his muscle tank down.

"you didn't," you shake your head as he looks at you.

"y/n…"

when kiara comes out of the same room and steps up behind him, you get your answer.

"you did," you say, your eyes shifting from kie to jj.

"babe, i-" jj begins, taking a step towards you.

"no," you immediately cut him off and hold a hand out in front of you to stop him from getting any closer. “we’re done.”

that was two weeks ago. you hadn’t seen jj, or your friends since then, actively trying to avoid them as much as possible. that didn’t stop them from texting though.

john b and pope have checked in every now and then to make sure you’re doing okay, while kie and jj blow your phone up 24/7 with empty apologies.

j<3: i’m outside. please let me explain.

you stare at the text on your phone for a second and hop to your feet to peek out the window, where surely enough, you saw jj perched against his bike on the curb of your front lawn, waiting.

letting out a deep sigh and against your better judgment, you walk towards the front door and open it, only to find that he had walked up your front porch and was about to knock.

“hey…” his voice is small, and his baby blue eyes light up at the sight of you, making your heart ache.

by the prominent eye bags under them, you could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. but wasn’t that how it should have been? he was the one who cheated on you.

you don’t say a word and just turn to walk further into your living room, jj following after you and shutting the door.

“i know you don’t owe me anything,” he continues, as you turn to look at him again, your arms crossed across your chest.

“you’re right, i don’t,” you say, trying to be cold.

it was hard, though. there was a piece of your heart that still yearned for him. a piece that you had a feeling would love him forever. no matter how badly he’s just screwed you over.

“why’d you do it?” you ask.

“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “i don’t know why i did it. we were drinking… and talking… you weren’t here, and i- i guess we just…”

“what?” you feel your hand start to shake as he tried to come up with an excuse. “got caught up in the moment?”

“y- yeah…” he glances down, and you scoff.

“god, i am such an idiot!” you run your hands through your hair and take a seat on the armchair behind you.

“y/n that’s not…” he slowly approaches you while you shake your head at him.

“i should’ve known,” you say. “it was her before me.”

jj shakes his head as he closes the distance between the two of you and crouches down in front of you, a hand landing on your knee. “baby, that’s not true.”

you glance at his hand on your knee before looking at him again. “but it is.”

“look, i fucked up, okay?” he said, his tone desperate now. “i know that. but please… please believe me when i tell you that it was a mistake. and it’s never going to happen again.”

“how can i believe that?” you ask, tears threatening to brim along your lower lashes. 

“just trust me,” he tells you.

a bitter scoff falls from your lips as you stand up and cross the room, half angry and half confused, not knowing what to think or believe.

“i did trust you, j!” you say, turning to look at him again with tears in your eyes as he gets up from his crouching position and faces you. “and you screwed me over anyway.”

“y/n…” he walks towards you, and you feel your weight shift to one foot, your body feeling a little limp. 

there was a part of you that still loved him—feelings don’t disappear just like that—but you knew you deserved better. that there was someone out there who wouldn’t even think about doing what he did.

"i love you…" he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and push your hair back, your first instinct causing you to lean into his touch, a sad smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you lock your eyes with his. "pretty girl." he closes the distance between you two, his forehead resting against yours, a tear trailing down your cheek as you closed your eyes. "i am so so so sorry. i promise— i promise, i won't ever hurt you again."

you wanted nothing more than to believe him. to forgive him. to forget. but you knew, deep down, that wasn't possible.

you shake you hear against his, sniffling. "j, i can't…"

"no, no, no," he replied. "you can. you— you have to, i can't-" he tilts his chin upwards to kiss you, and though you want desperately to let him, you push him away.

"no, jj!" you shout. "you— you can't just kiss me and think it's all gonna go away!"

"okay, okay, i'm not," he backs off a little, and then takes your hands in his, baby blues pleading. "but you need to forgive me. i could never live with myself if you didn't. i— i can't go on without you… without…" he brings your hands together and clasps his hands around them as he brings them up to his lips to kiss them softly. "your touch…" he moves a hand towards your cheek again, caressing it just like last time. "your smile…" he trails it across your collar bone and down your arm to place it on your chest. "your love… god, y/n i’ve never been loved by anyone like you."

his face falls limp against you and he drops to his knees, arms immediately locking around your hips as he rests the side of his head against you.

"please… please forgive me," his voice sounds desperate now, breaking your heart even more.

"i— i can't…" you wrap your hands around his arms and try to pull him off you, but it doesn't work—he just clutches onto you tighter. "you're just not the same person to me anymore…" you shake your head. "the jj i fell for would've never ever done anything to hurt me, but now…" you bring your hands up to your head, trying to keep it together. "god! every time i look at you… all i see is her and what you did… i— i just keep picturing you guys together and-"

"and we can fix that," jj pulls away and gets back on his feet to look at you. "i mean, it's gon' take time, but eventually… you— you can forget it, right?"

there was a hopeful look in his eyes, but you knew that wasn't enough to fix things.

you shake your head and sigh, the hope in his eyes immediately diminishing. "no, i don't think i can."

"but that— that would mean that this…" his voice cracks, his mind clearly in disarray as he motions a hand between you two. "no. this can't be over."

your watery eyes lock with his, which were now red from holding back tears. "then why is it?"

if you happen to also be a rafe girl, consider this part 2 & part 3.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : the fever

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : blurb based on this request!!!! or hamzah takes care of reader while she's sick

mickey speaks : i hope u enjoyyyy, more of my hamzah works can be found here <3 also i’m updating my tag list so pls lmk if you’d liked to be tagged in any fics in the future

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

there's no worse way to start your morning than in a pool of your own sweat and reading a thermometer displaying 101.2°F.

without any strength to attempt to leave your bed and no appetite to drive you to perseverance, you're left slumped lazily against your hot pillow.

just as your blinks begin to slow and your eyes droop low, an irritating sequence of vibrations beam from your phone. you pinch your eyes and let out a slightly dramatic but definitely necessary whine that turns into a groan as you stretch your arms far above your head.

you take your time, hoping whoever is waiting on the other line takes the hint by the forth ring that you’re busy drowning in your misery. you open your eyes just a peek before the ringing completely stops.

a relieved sigh comes over you as you lift your plush comforter over your head in hopes of reducing any natural light your windows allow to shine into your cluttered room.

it rings once more.

“fuck!” you let a blip of rage slip out in a seething tone, kicking your feet against your mattress harshly (an immature way of expressing yourself which makes you feel fifteen again; annoyed by your old obnoxious alarm clock).

you pull the oversized covers from your face and lean over to fiddle and grab your phone from its charging dock on your jagged, wooden night stand.

your tight expression is slightly shattered when you see the large text and tiny image in the corner of the facetime call displaying your boyfriend’s name and face.

you swipe to answer, falling back onto your pillow and covering your torso with the comforter once more (after having stripped of any clothing throughout the sleepless night).

your pouty face goes to the corner of the call as hamzah displays largely across your screen. he’s set his phone on top of his dashboard, still focused on actively driving when you answer.

“heyy, whatcha’ doing? haven’t responded to my texts at all, i was gettin’ worried..” his tongue plays with the gum in his mouth, popping multiple tiny bubbles at once.

your voice gives an unexpected voice crack, “i’m doing terrible,” hamzah’s a bit thrown off by your response but you don’t acknowledge his facial expression, instead you rub your eyes, “where are you going?”

“what happened?!” he arrives at a red light and looks at you while he’s stopped, “did you not sleep well? i was on my way to get you- thought we were playin’ pickleball today with martin and mandy.”

“eughhhh, i totally forgot about that- i’ll have to text and tell them i can’t anymore i’m like dyinggg, h. my temperature’s over 100.” you sniffle and groan.

“nah, don’t worry about that i’ll tell ‘em we can’t make it. you just stay put and i’ll be over in like- just a sec, okay?” he keeps glancing over to look at you which you appreciate, though you prefer for him to pay attention- but you don’t necessarily feel like getting into a back in forth with him over his driving habits right now.

“m’kayyyy you’re the best, love you.” you thank him gently, blowing a kiss towards the camera.

“mmm i like hearing that. you’re my favorite.” he smiles to himself, “yeah, um, i’ll see you in a bit- maybe try and get some sleep though, girl?”

“i’ll try,” you whisper.

“okay, be right there, love you.”

✧₊⁺

you’re not sure how long hamzah’s been at your side when you eventually wake up again to him sat next to you, looking through one of your many 2000s magazines.

you tap his knee silently, seemingly in a better mood after some well needed rest and the comfort of waking up in hamzah’s presence.

he displays a faux since of shock, “wow and she’s somehow even prettier when awake!”

you smile and slip your hand under your cheek as you lay and look at him, “hi, when’d you get here?”

he places your magazine down next to him, "got here maybe two hours ago? i stopped by a store and grabbed you some medicine to take and some other essentials like kitkats and iced tea- did you know hilary duff and lindsay lohan had hella back and forth beef??"

you nod, "duh, of course i do! and getting me snacks wowwww you're so perfect, huh?"

hamzah playfully shrugs his arms up and down, "a little somethin' like thattt, just for you."

you laugh but begin to cough uncontrollably, to which hamzah screws his face up in faux disgust; you stare, "thanks."

“nahh i’m playing,” he grabs one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “do you need me to do anything?”

“can you come brush my teeth with me?”

he nods immediately, standing up and picking your body (wrapped delicately in your covers) up and carrying you bridal-style into the bathroom down your skinny hallway.

on the way there you laugh again which leads to another coughing fit which you cover as much as you possibly can. hamzah teasingly stretches you away from him whining out an “eeuuuhhhh!!!” but you are quick to give him a glare that has him giggling and apologizing by curling you back into his broad chest smacking a few million kisses onto your cheek.

you push his face away in warning, “stop it you’re gonna get sick, stupid!!!!”

✧₊⁺

hamzah stands between your legs as you sit on the counter and brush your teeth. he thinks you look like an angel- or maybe a tooth fairy with the suds elegantly surrounding your mouth. despite your runny nose, hot, clammy skin and sleepy eyes, the white comforter manages to compliment your complexion in the most beautiful of ways. the sight in front of him was weirdly so angelic… “so pretty…” he lets his thoughts trickle into the air.

you pause your movements and look up at him starting to grin before scooting to the side and spitting into the sink. he grins and decides to joke with you a bit, scratching the back of his neck and blowing a raspberry into the air next to him, “did i say pretty?? i meant so ….sickly??” he squints his eyes a little trying to figure out where exactly he’s going with this, “because you’ve come down with something…. bad.”

you roll your eyes and shake your head, “it sounds like you want to call me beautiful…” you bat your eyelashes as you quote him through a mouthful of toothpaste and an insane urge to laugh.

hamzah laughs for you and wipes his eyes exclaiming, “enough! let’s wrap this up.”

✧₊⁺

hamzah made you take medicine and eat top ramen with him before you lay back down in bed. now you're lying up against your headboard watching reruns of sabrina the teenage witch with blankets curled up to your chin.

when hamzah finally comes back into your room he knocks twice before stepping into the space; he’s adorned with an arrangement of white tiger lilies in his hand and a small smile on his face.

you’re absolutely shocked, “what the fuck??? h, when’s you have time to get those?!” you prop yourself up and he hands them to you.

“i saw a little shop that was closing up when i was on my way back to my place just now; it’s cute you’d like it,” he moves to lay next to you.

“thank you,” you look at him lovingly, “for everything today; you treat me so well. how were the kitties doin’?”

“mhmm, they’re fine missin’ you though.” hamzah feels a since of pride from your words, taking the flowers from your hand and setting them on your nightstand (next to a roll of toilet paper you’ve used for your runny nose and a few empty water bottles). he turns back to you and brings his hand up to hold your face, “you’re so easy to treat well.” he leans closer to your face and your eyes shift down to his lips before you’re pulling away.

you playfully scoff and shake your head no, “nuh uh, i’m not getting you sick!”

“baby i’ve been around you all day and feel fine!! my immune system is the best there is, ‘promise.” he traces your lips with his thumb gently.

“you’re sooo…” you mumble the scold, turn on your side to move away from him.

he leans over you giggling, “amazing?” he kisses your cheek. “perfect?” another closer to your lips, “you’ve said them all before!” he sets a sweet kiss to your pouty lips before retreating back lie against the pillow next to you.

“i was gonna say needy but those work as well…” you grumble and smile to your self, “hold me?” you ask a bit louder, peeking over your shoulder to see hamzah drop his phone and immediately give you the attention you want from him, nuzzling you close and kissing your neck softly.

✧₊⁺

a few weeks later via Out of Character on YouTube

martin: yeah, and you’ve been freaking sick the past week and a half! how was that?

hamzah: very whimsical and magical. i’m kidding obviously it sucks and y/n was actually the one to give it to me! i’m not blaming but i am.

martin: i think that’s the worst part about having a girlfriend like if she’s sick you’re gonna get sick too- mandy’s like a freaking warrior though she’s never sick. it’s actually really odd.

hamzah: it’s because she’s a nurse, i think

martin: actually dude?

hamzah: yeah i read about it (he’s lying)

[echobx]

NSFW Alphabet - Pope Heyward

author's note: all of these are my own thoughts, if you do not agree with it that's completely your choice and right to do so. and a special thanks to @th3eternalersi for helping me with this one. love you so so much bby

kinktober masterlist ✘ template

Aftercare - he talks, like a lot, mostly to make sure you're okay and that he's okay too, especially after you tried something new, or it was especially overwhelming or emotional. he cares a lot, and is all in all very attentive towards you and your needs, so it doesn't surprise you when you learn that he researched why aftercare is important and how to do it properly.

Body part - he loves your brain, in a non-joking way. he's literally obsessed with how you think. he also loves your hips, especially your hip dips and the soft fat on your hips bc he can squeeze it. also, he wouldn't straight out say it, but the curve where your ass goes over into the back of your thighs, and the soft flesh on the insides of them, he would die there if you let him. 

Cum - he's rather peculiar when it comes to that, in comparison to other guys, because he doesn't like the idea of coming on you, the mere idea of his cum on your skin is too much for him. he's not against it, but it's not his favorite, which shows when he pulls out to come on your belly and instantly gets the wet towel to wipe you clean. no matter how much you tell him that you don't mind it, he just can't do it any other way. he also apologized the first time you gave him head because he forgot to tell you that he was coming and also didn't pull out by himself because the thought of your face or tits covered in his juices- but you didn't mind, obviously, and his cum actually tastes pretty good with his nutritious and balanced diet. and when he comes, he comes in spurts, like rather huge amounts with an okay recovery time, he's not quick but also not too long for you to mind it. 

Dirty Secret - when Pope was 13 he stole one of JJ’s porn magazines. it's not like he wanted to, it's more like his hands acted on their own, and then he had the magazine in his hands at home and stared at the barely dressed women. and JJ, if he noticed, wouldn't even have minded, at the ripe age of 12 he already had like five magazines in his name, and he would be honored to know that Pope stole one. that's also the only time he ever actively stole something with intent and without help. 

Experience - he's not the most experienced, but he likes to read up on things before he tries them out. like different techniques on how to finger you better, or what position will cause the best orgasms in you or better yet the both of you. and the scientist in him would never shy away from trying those things out. so, although he's not, that experienced, he learns quickly, and who needs a lot of experience when you can get away with a little bit of it, but the right way to use it?

Favorite Position - he loves to have you on top, because it means you can use him for your pleasure. and not in  a way where he'd lean back and just enjoy it, no, he wants to be active in it. he wants you to tell him what he should do to you while you ride him, preferably in his seat with his feet planted on the floor, sitting on his bed. other than that, he’s really into missionary, no matter how cliché it is, he loves to be able to look at you and feel like he's drowning in you completely. 

Goofy - he's generally more serious, especially at the start. it takes some time before you get him to also lighten up in the bedroom and not see it as a very important moment that needs to be perfect every single time. and letting loose a bit in that way also helps him be a bit more chill around the Pogues.

Hair - he used to just trim, but since meeting you he shaves clean, all the time. you don't really know why, because you mostly don't mind a good trim, but you let him be, it's his body after all. 

Intimacy - he's very romantic. he read Romeo and Juliet in primary, okay? he once thought the fact that he is this much of a romantic was the reason no one wanted to go out with him, they way they did with JB and JJ, but it's actually the opposite. the fact that he carries his heart almost on his tongue made it so much easier for you to fall in love with him, because he truly is the perfect boyfriend. and it really doesn't shock you when he plans romantic date nights at least 3 times a month. or when he sneaks into your house and prepares your room with candles and rose paddles and a bubble bath that will turn into the best and first bathtub sex of his life up until that point. 

Jack off - he doesn't masturbate a lot, he never did. and since meeting you, it also feels unnecessary. if he would ever feel like he needs to jerk off, you're just a call or text away, and then you can figure something out. really, the only times he does it is when you are on vacation with your family or either of you is grounded and you gotta do phone sex instead. 

Kink - body worship!!!!!! he's utterly in love with you and every tiny part of your body. at times, you wake up because he can't stop kissing your shoulder, or he lets his lips travel all over you until you wake up horny (he will pretend like that wasn't his plan, but you know him better than that. yet you keep up the facade for him) and then he'll fuck you slow while telling you how beautiful you are. he hasn't really shown any interest in figuring out other kinks of his than that one. 

Location - his or your room. he is old-school like that. not very into getting caught or having either of you be even the slightest bit uncomfortable. one time you fucked at the Château, and he put a chair under the door handle after locking it just to be sure no one would come in, all right.

Motivation - just you being yourself and charming him. he doesn't get turned on all the time, but he knows when you want it, it's like an instinct in a way. he's especially susceptible to you when you are whining about literally anything, and he just wants you to feel better.

No - you want to see the list? public or semi public sex, pda that goes past cheek kisses or hand holding/arms around each other, sex without any kind of protection, spanking you (he just doesn't want to do it until you beg for it). he will try out anything, but as soon as he notices that it won't work, he will stop and reimburse you in a way he knows is okay with you both.

Oral - he definitely prefers to eat you out over getting blowjobs, he's got all the important techniques memorized and loves to make you orgasm over and over again like that.

Pace - when he's stressed it's like he needs to fuck you to get rid of it, and school, especially exam season, stresses him out A LOT. that's when you have some of the best quick orgasms of your life. but when the exams are over, or on break, he takes his time. one time you didn't actually leave your room for two days because he kept fucking you and bringing you food and letting you sleep and all of it without having to leave your room. (especially lucky with your en-suite)

Quickie - with exams around the corner, he will literally take a quick break from studying just to fuck you before getting right back to his work. and that happens like twice a day. when you sleep over, he's also waking you up early to fuck before he leaves for the library, and you go back to bed.

Risk - he doesn't take many risks, only well calculated ones. but he does like to experiment to a degree. and when it works out, it's even better, and you try to take him farther the next time. 

Stamina - he's got good stamina, he could probably fuck you for hours without a real break in between for himself, but he knows better not to overwhelm you too much because he doesn't want you passing out on him again. (it happened once, and he still feels bad about it)

Toys - he knows what a vibrator is, of course. he also knows and loves what it can do to you. for your birthday he gets you a finger vibrator that the two of you use almost daily and the collection just grows from there. Pope wouldn't dare to ever see toys as anything but the friends in his plan of bringing you the most pleasure. 

Unfair - it's a bit tricky, if you were to ask him, he doesn't tease, but then again there are those moments when you annoy him while he's trying to work, and he decides the best way to deal with it is by edging you for straight-up hours on end until you swear to let him work, and that's when he lets you soak him, most times his fingers tho. 

Volume - he's usually quiet, because he doesn't wanna get caught. but as soon as he knows that no one is around, he’s loud. like, extremely loud. because he just needs you to know how much he loves you and how good you are to him. 

Wild card - Pope would love to read your mind, and not in a creepy, weird way. no, he's just fascinated with how your brain works to a point where he sometimes needs to restrain himself from getting hard when you explain a new subject to him. like once, he wondered about what you were doing in art class, and you went on a forty-minute rant on why you wanted to have the school ban the project because it was built around Picasso, and Picasso was frankly a massive asshole to say the least. also, he would really love to know how your brain looks like when you come. 

X-ray - let's just say your man is packing. he's also very modest about it, and you think it's charming. he's definitely above average in both length and width, but you like it, it's not like you are fearing for your life when you wanna suck him off. and he knows why he doesn't mention it and why he's glad you also don't mind sharing it around, because he won't be able to live down JJ’s “third leg” jokes. 

Yearning - he’s never thought to have a high sex drive, but he fell in love with you, and you basically make him feral with those school uniforms from the kook academy, the shirt skirts and stockings. so he doesn't think too much when for the first time ever he wakes up daily with a boner. that gets less of a problem when he starts to fuck you almost daily in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and after he has a grip on it, can control his sex drive as much as he needs to, to navigate life.

Zzz - he will only fall asleep after you do. he has to make sure you're okay and got everything you need before he can find his own calm and doze off just to wake up before you, like every day. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @maybankslover @/th3eternalersi @because-i-like-toxic-men

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I’VE NEVER SEEN, SOMEONE LIT FROM WITHIN

touya todoroki x reader

you and touya, in the midst of hiding, try to live some semblance of a normal life and enjoy the first snowfall on the season.

for the anon who asked for touya with a reader who isn’t a human lighter who gets cold easily in comparison to him. also, my hometown got snow and i’m in the philippines missing it :(

inspired by snow on the beach

“i’m getting restless.” he groans.

a lot of complaining from someone who would be taken down or arrested if he made even the slightest unplanned public appearance.

the weather outside was less than ideal for you, anyway. a chilly -9°, and snow falling to replace the autumn leaves now buried beneath it. you were happy for touya, at least. summers he spent shirtless, seated in front of a fan had now been laid to rest. in the dead of winter, he could lounge around comfortably with nothing but a light sweater on. he enjoyed it.

he didn’t enjoy seeing your shivering, however.

like all the times he asked to shower with you- one of his favourite activities- he has to remember that not everyone has a burning heart. he was admittedly a bit confused when you jumped out of the tub after just dipping your toe into the below freezing water he finds normal to bathe in.

“i know.” you say, sympathetically joining him on the couch. he pulls you to sit between his legs, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your heard. he’s so warm.

“its near midnight. no one would see us anyway.” he quietly argues. and admittedly, he’s right. anyone out in this cold at this time of night likely would be minding their own business, just waiting to make it back to warmth.

you grumble, annoyed by his insistence. but in that moment, you catch a rare glimpse of him.

his ocean eyes are staring out the window, staring at the flecks of light through the dark winter night. theres a certain longing in his expression he wouldn’t dare to show anyone on purpose.

his life had been emotionally abusive, time never stopping for him to process his hurt and his losses. he only truly finds refuge in you, who validates his pain and who unglues himself from that pain, even for a moment when he’s with you.

as a child, his favourite season was winter.

and it still is.

touya misses it, though he’d never admit. you can see it. you’ve caught him staring out with winter, drawing stupid doodles with his finger against the frost. its weird, but its beautiful. he looks at the snow like a screen, lighting his soul from within.

you just want him to be safe. you don’t want him to be taken away from you.

but at least, you could give him this.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

the snow blurs out your periphery, but you’re still safe. after all, touya’s next to you, his warm hand cupping yours.

he still doesn’t need any layers. you, on the other hand, are wrapped up in his jacket. its big on you, but it somehow feels better than any coat you have ever tried in your life.

his words remain neutral as he stands on the outside of the sidewalk, shielding you. but his eyes have found some sense of familiarity. he’s a walking through the snow, stars in his hands as he holds you next to him. ✩

“you warm enough, doll?” he asks, blue eyes flicking down to you. he doesn’t fail to notice how he can see your breath. he finds that red tinge on your nose adorable.

“mhm.” you say, momentarily broken from your thoughts. truthfully, all you can focus on is how you’ve never seen this side of him before. the side of touya that had some semblance of a normal child. in his eyes, you know more and more clearly that he was once a kid who had a favourite toy, a favourite game, and a favourite season.

“good, ‘don’t wanna deal with you and your immune system getting sick.” he jokes, though you both know he’ll move mountains to ensure your health. right now, he’s a bit distracted to. his ears take in the crunching of the snow beneath his feet, the sight of snow falling, and the feeling of your colder hand in his.

he’s nostalgic for a time he never really got to have.

he can’t speak but he doesn’t want to jinx it. he doesn’t even wanna think it. all he can do is wishes he never loses you. because you’re his winter, all year round. you’re that thing that extinguishes his burning soul.

so he squeezes your hand tighter as he redirects the two of you home, sensing you’re getting cold. he can cut the winter walk short if it means having a warm, loving night with you.

you wanting him feels impossible. but here you are, spending the winter with him.

he hears you sniffle, and looks back to see your scrunched up nose and red-tinged cheeks. he just chuckles, resolving to make it up to you later.

[court-jobi]

When Asking Feels Right

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/art))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (fem!reader is an active pro-hero)

Words: 3.6K

Rating: T+

Warnings: canon-typical injuries, love confessions, mentions of intimacy, talk of marriage, BIG FEELINGS, light injury aftercare, language, because Katsuki Bakugou knows no other way

Summary:

You know Izuku loves you, and proudly tells anyone within earshot just how much he adores his darling pro-hero. But it's not until a close call that 'Kacchan' convinces you just how much the nerd means it. Making you pull yourself together for the sake of his best friend solidifies the fact that you are the love of Izuku Midoriya's life, and he's damn well sure gonna keep you alive to do something with that information. Bakugou might be barking at you gruff as always as he's trying to keep you conscious, but when he says it like he means it, you pay attention.

A/N: Ok yall's love for Let's Heal Each Other has really surprised me, thank you so much! Here's more of our favorite boy, feat Bakugou in full guard dog mode

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“OI, WATCH YOUR TEN!”

Forced to the ground hard, you’re dazed– but not totally crushed. 

There’s a host of noise around you that grates on your senses: groans of steel supports, concrete and drywall crumbling in batches around you; it's now just a slow burn of collapsing chaos. But considering this portion of the building just fell apart not three feet from where you were once standing, you consider this a blessing. You’d deal with a sore hip than be dead. 

One thing you didn’t know was who did the saving of your ass, until you try to turn around and another support starts falling off in chunks–

“STAY DOWN, ALREADY–” a firm, hot hand cushions the back of your head from smacking the ground needlessly, but he’s not exactly gentle about it.

Dynamight?.. Bakugou– or ‘Kacchan’ as you hear him called at home– he’s– the one pulling a full body shield on you?

You cough from the debris and your ‘guardian angel’ makes sure to not press down on your back too much so you don’t feel smothered. With a gruff hand, he bats the air around your faces to will the dust away so you both can catch a breath. He hacks right along with you, he’s still human after all– but at least he does so from over your shoulder, a courtesy.

Soon enough, the shifting of earth and rock and damage settles, and Bakugou detaches himself from the kneel over you and lifts you up from under your arms to get you to a sitting position at the only remaining wall he deemed supportive enough.

You are equal parts amazed and confused watching the agency hothead acting like the most dashing hero you’ve ever seen, and you're lowkey shook that this attention is being put on you  when he presses you back and crouches back to your level with a guarded eye. 

"You ok?"

"Nngyeah?"

"You hurtin’?"

"Ouch. Nah, just my head a little-- OOF–”

Bakugou’s looking you over with a hard hand on your jaw, peeling aside your hair not too gracefully with tough, padded gloves, fussing over you with a concerned scowl.

 “-BAKugOU!"

The pieces click together a moment too late: you'd blurted at him right as you realize why he’s looking at you like this, so intently– you're bleeding from the head.

"A fucking head wound isn't a LITTLE PROBLEM, DUMBASS- /Oi, I need a med evac at the old Sorgan hospital! Look for the smoke on the southside, that’s where we fuckin’ are–/ FUCK, he's gonna KILL ME for this!!"

You bawk at the way he looks– nervous.

Your teammate's concerned as most coworkers at your agency would be, but for the chilliest of your pals, he’s looking uncharacteristically wild about it… like he seems inclined to punch you for it if you were only in better shape. Instead, Bakugou just picks you up and sets you on some slanted rubble to get you sitting higher. While your head bobs at a lag, you watch as he’s rummaging in his waistline's pockets for that dry cloth he's supposed to keep better accessible for first aid.

"YOU DAMN IDIOT,” Bakugou gripes not too angrily, “You’re NO BETTER than he is, jumpin’ into shit--HOLD THIS–"

You're starting to worry why he's so mad. It’s not like your quirk can directly correlate to the building falling via explosives; that’s his department. You followed your path to an opening of the building altogether as directed. In the mess of it all, you had to get creative with your exit strategy which did put you at a disadvantage, but it all had worked out even after facing off with the last batch of villains before the entire wing came tumbling down.

You honestly thought he was just being heroic and appreciated him literally keeping you from being crushed- only now as you want to thank him, you're sure it would fall on deaf ears. He must be angry that you were there in the first place for him to have to tend to now.

 "I-- that could have been really bad, I guess-"

"You 'GUESS'?" Bakugou's tone demands that you look him in the eye while he talks to you, right as he's staring you down incredulously, "Yeah, I saved your damn ass from getting CRUSHED, - and it's on MY HEAD if something happens to you while you're on my watch!!"

You feel sarcastic, "Well, thanks a lot, m’sorry for the inconvenience. Wassn’t my fault for the building though…”

He swishes a bit of remaining water on the cloth and jerks your head to the other way, ensuring the other scratches aren’t actively sporting fresh blood. “Tch, well running towards the sound was a pretty DUMBASS move!! Don’t know where you got that from!!”

“I can’think a few heroes who migh’...”

“Yeah, DEAD heroes!!”

Sheesh, nothing will please him when he gets like this. You tried for a last stretch of sympathy behind a pounding headache, “Well, m’sure Deku will appreciate you keepin’ me alive, so m’tryna say thanks."

"Yeah he damn well better, if he doesn’t wreck m- HEH??! SIT. THE HELL. DOWN!!"

At your try to stand up and join him in getting out of the alcove, you squatted back,

"What?!"

Bakugou pushes up his facemask more like a headband so you have no choice but to see him clearly. He smooshes your face in his palms- risky, given he's fully sweaty and the smell would be enough to turn you away-- but the way his hands are shaking forces you to stay still and pay attention.

"YOU are the love of his life, dumbass,” Bakugou threatens seriously. “You're the sparkle in his eye and you are damn good for him, so I'm sure as hell gonna make sure nothing happens to you if I can help it-- and you runnin' around with a concussion ain't making my job easier. So SIT. down."

You don’t blink or breathe.

"-I’m sat."

He fixes you a challenging look, then lets go of you to get a better view of the street to check on the ambulance.

He's protective. Because he's loyal to Izuku, he's loyal to you.

But you’re still stunned on what he said- like it was God’s honest truth and an immovable fact.

Pressing down on the tight space at the base of your sternum, you feel for something past your suit’s seam. "Did he say that?"

"Say what?" Bakugou shouts back tirelessly from the hole he’d opened for ventilation; you imagine he may not be hearing so well after this fight. Despite how cheesy it sounds coming out of you, you clarify with a hand to the gauze up against your head,

"-me being that? For him?"

Bakugou scoffs with a smirk, "Only reminds me every damn day I see him."

You can see it, after all. It happens with enough frequency that you know the two talk even before starting patrol with you. The routine of Midoriya meeting up with Bakugou like how you imagine they did in their school days: your adoring boyfriend sharing news of his curriculum workload in earnest, and retorting to his best friend’s loudmouth brand of bragging about his villain count for the week, followed by turning the tables back to Izuku and asking for the nerd’s professional opinion about his performance- and what he thinks he should be strengthening. 

It makes perfect sense that you should come up in conversations, but to know now that Izuku speaks of you in this way? Past the usual lovey-dovey pleasantries Bakugou usually gags at? It should have made you happy, but given the pulse in your throat and the general ache radiating from your -everywhere-, you sniffle– Your concern weighs you to your seat now that you probably have Izuku worried sick. If he’s glued to the news for televised coverage on missions that he knows you’re working on, he would have seen this whole ordeal in real time. 

And in the entire time you’ve dated Izuku, the whole relationship where you’ve stayed in sync with each other despite working in entirely different fields (namely you remaining in the clearly more dangerous one), Izuku never once discouraged you. 

-Never asked you to scale back or retire for the sake of his fears over you. 

-Never asked you to do anything other than ‘be as safe as you can, and do your best to come back to me’. 

He believes you were a hero- just as you believed he was, too. But God, if it didn’t kill you inside to think of breaking his heart over and over as he sat on his break room couch watching close calls. 

You know had he been here on duty instead of Dynamight, your sweet Deku would have been the one here trying to lift you up and perhaps put your worries at ease getting the chance to help you and see you through to safety. But Katsuki Bakugou is hardly that touchy-feely, so having to come up with a pep talk to yourself is hard.

"Oi-"

You toughen up to look back at him, but get a softer response than before.

"You're gonna be ok. I got your back, didn't I?"

You nod.

"I will, y'know. Have your back. Just don't make it difficult."

You nod again, about to cry.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking it off and catching sight of the blue and red lights before he fully hears them. "You, with the waterworks too? Match made in heaven, I swear to GOD."

That night, you are hardly in any shape to drive yourself home and a bit too unsteady to even wrangle with public transit, so naturally you ask Izuku to come get you. With a faithful grin, he looks incredibly happy to see you in the agency lobby- if distracted momentarily by your expertly wrapped head and script bag in hand.

When you meet downstairs, you reign in your immediate reaction to seeing him like you normally would. It's busy tonight- teeming with interns, a changing out of a few vending machines, and a friendly spat between two other sidekicks is happening not far from the evelator you just stepped from. 

The building’s deceptively cheery security officer sees you coming, and shares to your boyfriend that he is going to put on a podcast, taking a moment to fiddle with putting his earbuds in and ‘conveniently’ switch over to his shades against the setting sun, which allowed you the sneaky propriety to fully hug Izuku, as quick and tight as you could before getting in the car. 

Talk in the car consisted of the usual after missions, which felt familiar and good. Obviously your darling didn’t hide his concern, but between your assurances were legitimate questions about how the villains were apprehended, what he’d watched, and the interest he gave in what the news didn’t cover- like asking more about your civilian recovery efforts and compliments about how many were saved today. This kind of cool down genuinely helped you leave work at work, and you appreciated that so much. It was a short drive, which you spent mostly holding Izuku’s hand in both of yours and receiving little kisses on that hand at stoplights. 

You walked arm in arm with him up to the second landing of your apartment, with him finally running through the more caring questions of ‘does it hurt to climb?’ ‘Throbbing or dull pain?’ ‘Are you hungry, or are the meds making you feel sick?’ 

You knew he’d be clingy and honestly needed that constancy after such an explosive afternoon. He was insistent on taking off your coat and getting your laces off with minimal effort from you, which you adored on any old regular day– but the waterworks came flooding back so hard while watching Izuku on his heels taking care of you that you stopped him altogether.

"-I remember the concussions Denki would have after going too hard with his quirk, too- ‘Chargebolt’, I think you’ve met. ‘Course, I think it affected his nervous system more than anything else-- w' h-honey? Are you crying?"

"Please just get up here~"

You hugged him tight the second he rose to full height,

"Oh sweetheart," Izuku petted your hair as you muted your cries, "Sweetheart it's ok, you're ok."

"I love y’so much..." you eeked out from a tight throat.

The eyes unseen over your shoulder stung at your words, but squeezed in just as tight there in the foyer.

"I love you too, honey. So, so much." Izuku kept you close and just rocked you in place to ground you, "Were you scared today?"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it was scary. Would have scared me too, being caught in the middle of all that," Izuku cooed over your shoulder. "Y'know it's okay to let it rattle you sometimes. That's why we're all here to support you. Help you bounce back."

//I have your back// Bakugou’s words hit you again in a wave. 

"It.. would have landed on me. I was right in the impact zone, when the southwest end came down," you sunk into Izuku’s neck at the memory, "...Bakugou got to me first. I wouldn'tve gotten out without him."

Izuku breathed out, touched beyond measure. “...he did?...”

"H'yelled at me for being stupid," you chuckled mirthlessly, "but he said some things. Really big things. And I'm just so sorry it happened at all! I don't wanna worry you when I’m out there!"

As you rushed through the emotions; not just of this fight, but filled to the brim and spilling over with other close calls like it. Izuku had a hard time understanding what was said that upset you, and just held you through it.

"C’mon, let's sit you down," Izuku picked you up like the koala you were and took you over to your couch, sitting with you perched in his arms. 

No longer surprised at the incredible strength he still carried -being able to pick you up like your dead weight was nothing- you sunk into his safety, solace found in his pressed shirt collar.

Your apologies turned into cries within a few minutes of settling in. 

The poor man's heart broke all over again, holding you tightly through your sobs, and hushing you through them. The crying was only going to make your headache worse. He knows this from experience, unfortunately… so even though he usually encouraged you to ‘feel your feelings to the fullest’, he did make an attempt to still you this time. Izuku pressed kisses to your warm forehead.

"Honey, easy, honey... what big things did Kacchan say?" 

//you're his spark//

//you're just like the damn nerd//

//match made in heaven//

//you're damn good for him//

"Tha-That I was... the love of- your life?"

Unseen, Izuku's sights widened. But had you been watching him and not hiding in his complete, cozying embrace, you would have seen the proudest look of love lifting those cheeks of his. How he smiled despite the concern he held for you in this moment, and took a grand look around the room - at the life you were tending to and nurturing together with fondness.

"You are the love of my life," Izuku assured you gently with the sweet coupling of your name, "Have I never told you that?"

Shown, certainly, but never told so beautifully. And to have come from Bakugou’s harsh lips of all people, the revelation was jarring in more ways than one.

You whispered 'no', but didn't let go for the life of you. Wouldn't ever let go of this darling man if he’d allow you to stay.

"-M'ere, look at me. Just for a minute, look here~"

You pressed back from his hold with unwilling muscles, only to be cradled in his hands. Green eyes full of tears looked back at you but with a full, strong smile forcing bravery forward.

"You -my sweetest girl- are the love of my life. I love who you are now, and who you're going to be forty, fifty, sixty years from now,” he pet your hair back and away with a little shaky nod, “and yeah- I might lose my lunch every now and then watching you out there…”

You sniffled again, baffled at how telling you all this could possibly be making him chuckle through his words–

“--but I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve watched the same tv screen and been so insanely proud of you! To watch you go out there and win, and shine, and– I can stomach all that fear. I can do that. Because I know you and I believe in you! And I am so thankful that I happen to know the heroes you do this hard work with can help take care of you and have your back. That’s what it’s all about- doing it together.”

You hang on Izuku’s every word of affirmation. It’s the language he’s best in, no matter the subject. Thankfully, right now, he's set on putting you back on solid heartground- assuring you of everything you doubt about yourself. Your power, your inspiration, all of it.

“You’re saving people- helping those who can't do it themselves, and you do it so well, love. These scary things happen… but honestly? It only makes me love you more for facing it like you do. And getting up the next day, and watching you come at it again.”

You keen under his full attention. The praise and love he’s washing you with is so earnest and filled with pride, it kills you to ever have obligations elsewhere in the world outside of his company.

Surely you can just stay supple in his arms for eternity and no one would miss you. 

“So you don’t need to be out there worried about what I’m thinking of you,” Izuku worked on wiping your blurry tears, “because I’m going to double down on replacing those worries in your head. I’m going to remind you every day of it. You’re never going to not have me in your corner, because you are the love of my life.”

Soothed and emotional in an entirely different vein, you nod you head back with a firm, brave smile of you own, before gingerly pulling him close for a little forehead touch, a well-earned kiss, and another hug latched around his shoulders. 

Izuku tended to you after your hero work in a number of ways, depending on what you've weathered that day: from taking off your shoes, cooking you a meal, holding you soft and sweet against his body on the sofa like this, or even helping you burn off any excess steam on the particular amorous nights where you just feel too alive to not show him exactly what your primary reason for fighting is. 

To protect him. To protect everyone you love and care for. Making your family proud both here and heavenward, and proving to yourself that you can do the hard things. Having a partner to support you in this work is an invaluable bolster in your life, and you feel it in every swipe of his hands up and down your back in this exact moment. 

His touch assures you just as much as it comforts him. Tells you how much you're appreciated and welcomed when you reach the end of the day like it soothes him to have you safely off the streets. You also know that any tear-filled nights on his end come from a place of complete affection and commitment and you don't really care how much Bakugou or any of your other workmates might tease you for being soft right along with ‘the damn nerd’. 

He's your damn nerd. The one you come home to and plan to spend the rest of the evening tending to your headache and scratchy throat and whatever other hurts have trickled out from your tough shell. 

From about your fifth date on, you'd felt in your gut that ‘Midoriya’ was likely going to be the name you'd be filling out as your emergency contact for life, so you started doing so on your contract renewals. That probably proved he was the love of your life, too, even if you didn't say so outright. 

Content to hold you forever, Izuku still asked of you gently, 

“Poor thing, you gotta be exhausted. I know you showered, but would you like a bath to let the steam help?” He kissed your nearby shoulder within reach, “It'll help the drainage go away.”

That sounded amazing and all but guaranteed he'd like to stay as close to you as possible. You hummed in the affirmative, close to bursting. 

“Good. We’ll get that started, whenever you're ready. Anything my brave girl wants.”

There's truly only one thought on your mind- the insistent proof of it lies hidden beneath your sweater neckline, slid onto a long silver necklace:

A ring sized for Izuku is something you've worn every patrol for a couple months now, and is practically burning as you adjust your seat on his lap to find his face. 

You're fishing past your collar uncomfortably, looking for the damn thing tangled with your agency lanyard, but dead set that you can't go on without him wearing it.

“Hm? I'm here, hon’, what do you need?-- what's-… Baby. Oh baby, what's that...?”

You hold the ring still looped on the chain, lifted for him to see between fingers that don't shake anymore. Firm and steady. Because he's loved you so well and so thoroughly tonight and every night, it's the easiest thing to ask the stunned, gorgeous man beneath you,

“Marry me.”