#he's smart so i can see people believing in him; and i see him being friends with toby and jack;

[evilbirdy]

Hii, could you do a fic of Se-mi with reader, who’s Thanos’ little sister and is the total opposite of her brother? Se-mi adores her, has a soft spot for her, trusts her and kind of feels bad for her, since she’s like calm and quiet with a chaotic brother 😭 also unlike her brother reader never takes drugs, smokes, etc. maybe headcanons or just a one-shot can be in or outside of Squid game au idrc

That you were right in front of me

now playing~ infrunami by steve lacy

Se-mi x fem!reader

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omg guys, my writing is becoming shirt, is this what writers block feels like 😭

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Thanos is an…interesting person, he captivates the room, gets all the girls, loves the attention.

You are the other hand are nothing like that, you are reserved, you have barely held hands with someone, and you hate being put out on the spot.

You both are the two sides of the same coin, the same but so different.

When Se-mi met you, she didn’t believe you were Thanos’s younger sister until she came over to your house. She felt so into you, you were smart, kind, sweet. You were very shy until you both had gotten closer than you let down a wall only for her.

Likewise, she has a little spot in her heart for you, she felt bad, you kinda had to take care of your older brother since your parents weren’t around and Thanos was drowning himself in drugs and alcohol.

That’s why you never partake in said activities, you hated watching your brother destroy himself slowly, you always scolded him as you made him a meal to help his hangovers or highs.

“Really Su-bong you downed three bottles of soju, wh-what would our parents say, huh?” Min-su and Nam-gyu was carrying him into the living room onto the couch, Se-mi stood next to you the whole time, as much as she loved seeing Thanos in such an embarrassing state, she didn’t like you being in distress.

Thanos tried to explain himself but you held your hand making him cut himself off, you walked into the kitchen with Se-mi following you.

“ *sigh* I apologize for my brother’s antics…again,’ you laid your head on the counter before going to the fridge and grabbing a water.

“No worries, I would rather babysit Thanos for decades, if it means I get to be here with you,” you looked to her, smiling all giddy. You two had some silent attraction to each other. You knew she liked you and she knows you like her, it was all on who was gonna say what.

“Thanks for being here, Se-mi,” you walked up to her, kissing her cheek before going to give your brother his water. She touched the spot you just kissed, she looks down her face becoming red.

A couple of weeks later, your brother was out recording his little tracks, Se-mi came over to your house for the fifth time that week, she might as well sleep over at this point.

You were laying your legs across Se-mi’s lap, she traces her fingers on your legs, she smirks watching how you got all flustered.

“Hey umm (your nickname),” you looked up at her, titling your head. She leans her head back onto the headboard.

“I um I really really like you, like these past few months, I have never felt this way about someone, like come on, I have chosen to hang around Thanos of all people to be with you,” you giggled, you took her face into her hand, you kissed her cheek and looked to her.

“i like you too, Se-mi, I never though could love but…you made happen. Are you really sure you want to be with me though cause that also means committing to my brother in a way,” she sighs pulling you into her. “Like I said I would spend decades babysit that man-child if it means having you with me every day,” she kisses me all over your face as you laugh.

[iid-smile]

content — michael kaiser x coach!gn!reader, enemies to lovers, probably ooc, some references to his past (choking), i got a wee bit carried away and then got lazy on the lover part, ok rereading i fear this might be really ooc idk i dont read the manga

enemy!kaiser who knows at first glance that he just doesn't like you. he could say that about a lot of people, but you're a different case.

enemy!kaiser who hasn't quite got the smarts, nor do you have the physical abilities, other than being a coach, to become actual rivals over something. but you know what's better? arguing over nothing.

enemy!kaiser that would do anything to piss you off and get his way. yes, he was there for the lengthy meeting for a new and reliable strategy for the next match, but he's going to completely disregard it simply because he's michael kaiser. who's gonna stop him?

enemy!kaiser who loves to get in your face, using his stature to his advantage. if you try to avoid eye contact, he only gets closer, opening his eyes much wider than needed and tilting his head so that he's the only thing that you see.

enemy!kaiser who makes you do everything for him just to spite you. from now on, it's your job to dry his hair — and don't do it too hard, otherwise you'll just mess it up. he's awfully picky about what you do and if you don't do it right, expect to hear an absolute mouthful.

kaiser who starts to talk to you normally. it's scary. every time you try to rile him up, he does respond with his usual array of insults, but they don't seem to be as sincere.

kaiser who starts to listen to you more. whenever you talk, he stares, and it's unsettling having him be so neutral. try to shy away, and as usual, he moves closer, placing his hands on his knees with his eyes boring into yours. is it just you, or are your noses touching?

kaiser who accidentally let you see how truly vulnerable he could become. it was all a big mistake, a misunderstanding, so he wished. he wanted to yell at you, to curse you out, but you didn't say a word, simply turning and closing the door and giving him the privacy that he needs.

kaiser who lets you touch his tattoos for the first time. he felt oddly comfortable that night, being surrounded only by your presence. he wasn't happy, nor sad, yet his heart was more audible than usual. he was an empty vessel, thinking and thinking about what his emotions doing to him.

kaiser who suddenly switches back to his old self. it's a defense mechanism of sorts — if he could at least act like he hates you, then he doesn't have to come to terms with his feelings.

but yet, he knows he could trust you. you've kept all of his secrets, protected him from harm, whether that be physically or verbally. never have you used his weaknesses to your advantage, or stooped too low to the point that it reminds him of his past. he wasn't looking for love, he didn't believe in love. but maybe, just maybe...

kaiser who doesn't know what he's doing. when was the last time he's ever experienced such a thing? what can he do? how can he show you how he feels? what if you reject him? no, of course not... but you've spent all of this time hating each other... how low could the changes possibly be?

in the end, you were feeling the exact same way.

lover!kaiser doesn't want to make things public immediately. it's partially his pride, but he's scared. he's scared of this entirely new part of him that was once broken before.

lover!kaiser seems to be more of a tease. his formerly rude comments come off as playful, with a smirk on his lips that is less forced, less hateful.

lover!kaiser is intimidated by the world of romance. gifts? touch? he doesn't think he could bear with it. you remained patient, teaching him slowly at his pace, and speaking your own language of love to each other.

lover!kaiser who has heart eyes that are only noticeable to you. you don't get how nobody else sees it, but perhaps they're mistaking it for his intense gaze.

lover!kaiser who finds it satisfying when you touch his neck. you only graze your fingers tentatively over his throat, yet his hand wraps around yours, urging you to make it rougher, to grip it tighter. despite his request, you don't, and he's almost relieved from that. it's not enough to completely erase the habit, but it's nice to have a better memory attached to it.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Spring (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Slightly less unreliable narrator (Cregan has come to his senses, reader is on the way) Mature language.

A/N: I really thought these two would get their mess sorted out in nine scenes, but I was far too optimistic. Lucky me, I had one season as backup! Also, thank you so, so much for continuing to read this series and your kind comments!

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

The utter viciousness you had displayed, bringing up his dead wife, had only been a source of anger for him at first. He had thought you an evil little bitch, unafraid of exploiting weak spots to hurt him. 

Then, he had seen you with Rickon. And his world had just… Shifted. As if every piece of furniture in Winterfell had been moved exactly one inch to the left, and no one had told him, leaving him stumbling around in his own home.

You weren’t evil or jealous. Or, more likely, you were, but not because of some petty reason, it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure? But it made too much sense for him to ignore. 

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, like commenting on the number of packages and dresses you had brought from the South, you had taken it as a personal criticism. You felt unappreciated, so you lashed out and avoided him at every turn. 

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable. The northern women were considered capable because they were physically strong, able to wield bows, ride hard and long or withstand the terrible weather. 

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

Cregan had never noticed before because he had never bothered to truly look at what you were doing, but your charities were to make your mother’s cause more popular with the smallfolk. He had heard your mother was doing a similar thing in the capital, delivering food to the starved population due to a blockade of the own Blacks’ making. Not that the commoners cared about the last part. They only cared about those who put food on their bellies. 

And perhaps the Queen dowager and Princess Helaena were popular in the South because of their involvement in the Septs, but you were exploiting the lack of those here. Without Septs, there were no Septas or Septons tending to the sick and poor. You were. And the North would remember, when it came time to march for your mother’s banners. 

Cregan would bet Ice that you were having tea with the northern ladies not to gain friends. The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was. It explained why the two of you were so uncomfortable with each other. You were probably entertaining the northerns to win their loyalties, knowing the combined pressure of Cregan’s oath and their wives would make his lords more eager to drop coin and men for your war. 

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see how much security you could bring to the North, how well fed you could be during winter, if you decided to work with him and not behind him. 

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him. He had been pushing you away without even realizing it, comparing you to Arra at every turn, without considering how that might come across to you. 

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

Set in his decision, Cregan walked to your chambers. He waved off the guard’s attempt to announce him, casually strolling in. 

You were seated next to the fire, the leather-bound book you usually carried around spread over your lap. It was a heavy tome, bound in brown leather with golden engravings. It was written in High Valyrian, a language for which Cregan had little use, so he had never learned it beyond recognizing the alphabet. 

There was a striking beauty to your expression when you were at ease, the peaceful expression you wore becoming you much more than the usual frown you directed at him. Cregan found himself wondering how beautiful you must look smiling, if you looked this radiant when at peace. 

You had the sort of face to be lit up with happiness, he could already tell. His heart ached to be the one that finally coaxed it out of you.

“Princess,” Cregan calls, softly. You set your book aside, ready to get up and curtsy, but he halts you. “No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

“Lord Husband.” You reply, for once not frowning. Your face remains carefully neutral, which Cregan considers a victory. He would attribute it to his remark about his ego, but it is more likely due to guilt. He will take it regardless. 

“No need for that either, much less today.” Cregan smiles at you. “You may call me Cregan, if you wish. I am here to thank you for caring for my Rickon while I was away.” 

You look far more confused than you did before. You look like you want to approach him and run at the same time, your wool gown fluttering as you squirm in place, undecided if you are approaching or not. 

“I simply did my duty, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile widens, amused by you. 

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly. Cregan fights the urge to curse, instead making a mental note. You dislike being mocked, even in jest. He wonders what sharp words you had to endure in the South to be like this, and feels a wave of pity. Dark of hair and no dragon to shield you? Perhaps that was why you were far kinder to Sara than to him. He gives a tasteful cough. Or at least, his attempt at it. 

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

“He is a child.” You say, slowly.  “No person would leave a child in need.” 

“You would be surprised.” Cregan thinks of how his own mother had treated Sara when she had arrived at Winterfell, treatment that hadn’t improved when his aunt took on as the Lady of the household. His sister had only known freedom after Cregan had taken over his seat, and she was still judged by the rest of the North, even though in a much subtle manner. 

“Mmm.” Your reply is noncommittal. 

“He has been asking me lately why he doesn't have a lady mother.” Cregan attempts again. He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you. And to his amusement, it does work. You pity his son more than him, it seems because you begin to pay him more attention.  

“What did you tell him?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. It’s a surprisingly cute gesture for the unshakable princess that you are. 

“I do not know. I have not answered him.” Cregan searches for somewhere to sit, but apart from the loveseat in which you are soaking up the warmth of the fireplace, there is none. He grabs the stool by your writing area, and brings it over. 

He sits on the stool across from you, wiggling a bit with how uncomfortable it is. It feels like his knees are on his chest, by the Gods. It’s clearly meant for a shorter person. Your rooms are not made for receiving visitors, he should have thought of that earlier. You need a space to receive people that isn’t the sitting room. What if you wish to have more private conversations?

“Surely he knows she is dead?” You are too caught up in your disbelief to protest that he is rearranging your furniture. Good. 

“He does, but doesn’t quite grasp what dead means.”  Cregan is being honest. Whoever has the heart to explain to a child of two namedays what death is, is a braver man than him. 

“Perhaps you could say she is in the Seven Heavens?” Your frown comes back, but this time it isn’t angry. Instead, it’s puzzled. You are trying to help him, and it makes him fight the urge to smile. He doesn’t want you to think that he is mocking your suggestion. 

“We do not believe that here.” 

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

“Just, I would like it if you saw him more often. With me. Perhaps… He has asked about you, and I am not asking you to replace her but I… He sometimes needs a more feminine touch.” 

“Of course.” You agree. And he can see in your eyes you think he might be trying to use you as a stand in for Arra, not truly believing his words, but that is alright. Cregan will show you. Or at least, he is going to do his very best attempt. 

YOU MAKE SURE there are enough pastries and hot water available before you stand up.

“I am afraid I must leave you, my ladies. But you are welcome to continue enjoying the hospitality of Winterfell.” The sitting room is filled with northern women. You have begun inviting them for tea twice a moon, trying to ensure your mother will have all the support she needs when she takes King’s Landing. 

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons. The only ones who do are the most important Houses, like the Starks or the Boltons. It means that most of your ladies are northern by birth, and not through marriage as you are. 

“This early?” Lady Mormont asks, bluntly. Her bluntness had discomfited you during your first meetings, but you have come to find it refreshing. “Princess?” She tacks on, remembering she is supposed to mind her courtesies with you. 

“This early.” You confirm, with a smile. You have planned the time of this tea with precision for this same motive, knowing it will appeal to their loyalty, but also allow you to escape the socializing. “I have a play date with my Lord Husband and little Rickon.” 

One of the ladies coos. Lady Mormont barks out a laughter. 

“Ah, to be a young woman with that many suitors.” 

“Only the very best.” You smile, and leave them to feast on the pastries. 

You make your way to Cregan’s solar at a leisure pace. The crushed velvet gown you are wearing is in a blue so pale it almost looks like the gray of House Stark. It is one of your old ones, meant to evoke House Velaryon’s colors. It fits you again, having gained a bit of weight during your time in the North. You hope it is a gown suitable for playing with a toddler. 

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

“Rickon!” You kneel by him, as he runs to be picked up. You indulge him, smelling his hair as you lift him. He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan. You hate that you cannot hate him or be indifferent any longer. The little boy has stolen your heart. 

Rickon gives you a toothy smile, his hands clumsily going to cup your face. Who can resist him? Not you. 

“I see you found each other.” Cregan leans against the door, smirking. He holds two cups. “Warm milk with honey. For the cold.”

You cannot help but smile a little. 

“Our knight in shining armor!” You tease, more for Rickon’s benefit than him. “Let us in, good Ser. So I can place my little wildling down and he can drink it.” 

Cregan laughs and moves aside to let the two of you pass. As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide. Your eyes linger on his shoulders. You have not seen him wield Ice yet, but you have seen the sword. He has to have considerable strength to do so. 

The thought is strangely thrilling. Your stomach does a somersault, but before you have time to analyze it, Rickon begins to squirm in your arms. 

“Down! Down! Doggie!” He pleads. You look to see what has caught his attention and notice that Cregan has moved the rug so it lays by the fireplace, and placed some of Rickon’s toys there, including his more favored one: A soft cotton white wolf. 

You set Rickon down and take one of the cups from Cregan. Both of you sit down on the rug as well, and watch Rickon play with his wolf, ignoring his cup of milk. You have come to learn that playing with an only child is much different than playing with your younger siblings, Rickon mostly plays alone and wants you there to show you things. 

It forces you to keep conversations with your husband, if only because the silence would be too awkward otherwise. 

“I have arranged for us to have tea when Rickon tires.” Cregan informs you, a bit stiff.

“Oh, I already had tea with the…” You start, before Cregan interrupts you. 

“You are far too thin still. Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

It’s awfully thoughtful of him, and you will examine it later because your mind is still stuck on one tiny detail. One that infuriates you. 

“You are corresponding with Jace?” You ask, trying hard not to sound violent. After all, he has been very kind to you as of late, and guilt has begun to creep in for your careless words about his late wife. Not that you will apologize or anything. You intend to pretend nothing happened and be extra nice to Cregan, indulging Rickon and him on all the tea and play dates in the world. 

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

“Does he think I shall never forgive him?” You ask him, baffled. Rickon begins building a tower with blocks on the rug, insisting that the two of you aid him in building Winterfell, so Cregan’s answer is delayed. As you place some blocks to make the entrance, you have time to think over his words. 

All alone in Dragonstone, Jace must be feeling as lonely as you are. Only more because he has no Cregan and Rickon to stand with him. 

What he had done was a deep betrayal in your eyes, but was it truly? You had known you would have to marry eventually, and it probably wouldn’t be a love match. Jace had done the best he could in the terrible circumstances you were in. Moved by his fear of losing another sibling, he had entrusted you to Cregan because he thought you could be happy here. Safe. 

And you were. There was no fiercest protector for you apart from your husband. After marrying him, no one had dared even to breathe the rumors of your bastardy, and he even worried about what you ate, by the Gods’ sake!

“You can hold a grudge.” Cregan says, cautiously, when Rickon is distracted by his cup of milk and begins to attempt drinking it. Usually, drinking his milk is followed by passing out, so he is careful to support him in his lap. The sight makes your chest feel oddly warm. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was bad. 

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

“Perhaps I don’t want to any longer.” You say, looking into his eyes. You are no longer speaking of Jace. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

“Neither do I.”

SARA’S EYES, GREY and so much like his father’s, are fixed on him. Cregan tries to ignore her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of appearing uncomfortable. But before the hour passes, he is squirming in his chair, unnerved by her silent stare. 

Sara continues to stare. Cregan refuses to speak to her. After a while, she sets down the book she has taken from his shelves, a dreadfully boring account of the battles fought by the Kings of Winter, and perches her chin in her hands. 

That way, her staring is much more obvious. She is comfortably laid back in one of the armchairs he has in his solar. Cregan likes company when he works, and it’s easier to ask for her opinion if she is right there. Unfortunately, it also means she can stare at him for hours on end if she so wished.

“What?” Cregan asks, when he can’t take it any longer. He pushes away the reports about the safety of Wintertown and how prepared they are for winter, and looks up at her. She still doesn’t speak. “Sara!” 

“Apologies, brother.” By her smile, she is anything but sorry. “I just find it fascinating.” 

Cregan sighs. He doesn’t really want to bite, but if he doesn’t, Sara’s teasing will get worse and worse.

“What is fascinating?” 

“How you have managed to turn into a spineless southron in less than two moons.” Cregan can only gape at her. What is she going on about? “Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

His face grows hot, burning with embarrassment. 

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.” He mutters, under his breath, which only makes her cackle further. Both of them know that Sara would never be married off as if she were some cattle. Cregan loves her too much for it, and she is a deeply independent woman. 

“Who would advise you, then?” She asks him, brazenly. “Your sweet little wife? While she is great at wrangling lords and ladies, I doubt she has the stomach for warfare.” 

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.” At his words, Sara glares. She hates to be reminded she had not been as immune as she liked to think she was to Prince Jacaerys’ charms. “But if the worst comes to pass, I actually intend to have her hold Winterfell alongside you and Rickon.” 

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sara approves. “Shall you march south, Rickon and I will suffice.” 

“I wish to begin teaching her, when she no longer seems willing to murder me.” 

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

“She still seems to think I do not love her.” Cregan whines. 

“Because you mention Arra all the time. I have heard it’s in bad taste, but what would I know?” Sara rolls her eyes. “I am just some bastard girl.” 

“Are you simply going to complain or will you help me?” Cregan looks at her and tries giving her his best pleading look. Then, he decides to stroke her pride. “You know I always seek your council, even above other lords.” 

“Even above Lord Cerwyn?” Her mouth purses in a dubious pout. Fuck. His sister or his best friend? In the end, the choice is easy. Sara is here now, after all. 

“Of course.”

Sara positively beams. 

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

“Your advice?” Cregan asks, tiredly. The Gods knew that she would talk circles around him if he let her. She was honest, but she also had a gift for courtly speech that Cregan despised. 

“Women like gifts. Or I do. And I am a woman.” Sara shrugs. “She is a Princess, of course she does too. And don’t just gift her anything.” 

“I would never be…” That stupid, Cregan wishes to add, but Sara is still speaking. 

“Gift her something special. Something unique, tailored to her. And especially, something that you wouldn’t gift practical Arra.” 

Cregan stares at Sara. Sara stares back. Then, very pointedly, she picks up her book and continues to read. The message is clear. He will not get any further help. 

Still, her advice lingers. In the coming days, Cregan cannot shake the thought, regardless of what he is doing. As he inspects his men, as he reads during his spare time, even as he bathes. All Cregan thinks of is you, and a gift that would please you. 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

He discards many more ideas, from rolls of myrish lace to donations to your charities. You ran far too cold to wear the former, and the latter wouldn’t truly be a gift to you. He wastes nearly a week coming up with a suitable idea, and two more corresponding with the Prince, the Maester at Dragonstone, and securing the goods he needs. 

It’s all worth it, when he takes a look at the finished present and can know that you will love it. 

[xyywrites]

How to write believable enemies-to-lovers dynamics.

Enemies-to-lovers is a beloved trope, but it’s also tricky to execute. The transformation from animosity to love needs to feel organic, not forced. 

1. Establish the Initial Conflict

Give your characters a solid, believable reason to dislike each other. It could be ideological differences, personal betrayal, or clashing goals. The conflict must be significant enough to justify their animosity.

“You stole my promotion. Do you have any idea how hard I worked for it?” “You mean the one you weren’t qualified for? Grow up, Lena.”

2. Show the Nuance in Their Dislike

Enemies don’t always have to hate each other completely. Maybe they grudgingly respect one another’s skills or admire each other’s dedication, even if it drives them crazy.

“For someone so insufferable, you sure know how to shoot straight.” “And for someone so arrogant, you’re surprisingly not dead yet.”

“She’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” “And yet you can’t stop watching her, can you?”

3. Create Forced Proximity

Give them a reason to spend time together despite their dislike. Forced proximity allows them to see past their assumptions and grow closer.

“If we don’t get this presentation done by morning, we’re both fired. So, shut up and start typing.” “Only if you stop chewing on that pen. It’s distracting.”

“You’re bleeding.” “Yeah, and whose fault is that?” “Mine, obviously. Now sit down so I can patch you up.”

4. Allow Their Views to Shift Gradually

The transition from enemies to lovers isn’t instant. Let them experience small moments of vulnerability, trust, or understanding that slowly chip away at their hostility.

“You think I wanted this? That I enjoy being the bad guy?” “I didn’t think you cared.” “Well, maybe I do.”

“You fight so hard for your people.” “You do too. I guess we’re not so different after all.”

5. Use Banter to Build Chemistry

Snarky, sharp dialogue is the lifeblood of enemies-to-lovers. Their verbal sparring should reveal their personalities, highlight their tension, and hint at deeper feelings.

“Careful, you almost sounded like you cared about me for a second.” “Don’t flatter yourself. I care about not dying, and you happen to be useful.”

“If you were half as smart as you think you are—” “I’d still be twice as smart as you.”

6. Show the Cost of Falling for Each Other

Enemies-to-lovers works best when there are stakes. Their relationship should challenge their beliefs, goals, or loyalties, forcing them to make difficult choices.

“If I help you, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for.” “Then why are you still standing here?”

7. Add a “Breaking Point”

There should be a moment where their growing feelings clash with their existing animosity, leading to explosive tension.

“You lied to me!” “What did you expect? You’re the enemy!” “Not anymore. Or at least, I thought I wasn’t.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” “Because I can’t stand the thought of losing you, okay? Happy now?”

8. Use Physicality Subtly

Small gestures can reveal their shifting feelings—hesitant touches, lingering glances, or protective instincts.

“Watch out!” He shoved her out of the way, taking the brunt of the explosion. “You idiot. You could’ve been killed.” “Yeah, but you’re okay.”

She caught him staring at her, his usual scowl softened. He looked away quickly, muttering something under his breath.

9. Build Toward a Satisfying Payoff

Enemies-to-lovers works because of the build-up. Don’t rush the resolution. Let their relationship evolve naturally before culminating in a moment that feels earned.

“I don’t want to fight you anymore.” “Neither do I.” “Then come here.”

10. Maintain Their Individuality

Their love shouldn’t erase who they are. They’re still the same people who clashed in the beginning, but now they’ve grown to understand each other.

“I’m still not letting you win.” “Good. I’d be worried if you did.”

“You’re still annoying.” “And you’re still impossible. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

[mildy-vibing]

@calamaroo I know you know who this is, our favorite baby boy

NEW/OLD OCTO-OC, ARTHUR GRIZZLY

I've introduced him a long time ago but now he has official art and refs! Though he originally started out being modeled off numerous characters, he's grown beyond that into his own thing. Calamaroo certainly knows as they're my co-creator for him (60/40 custody).

So, who is he?

Early Life

Arthur's early life mainly follows that of all grizzlies. Staying with your mother and following her every move so that one day you may survive on your own. Nothing truly great or memorable came from this time, say for Arthur meeting a certain polar bear cub.

Early on in his cub years, Arthur was constantly traveling up and down the Alaskan wilderness with his mother, sometimes going too far south and sometimes too far north. On one occasion, where they went too far north, Arthur encountered a polar scout. Though it wasn't common for both solitary species to be friends, cubs do as cubs do and became best friends over the course of Arthur's stay.

Arthur was the trouble maker and "bad influence" of the duo, always finding himself knee deep in trouble. Barnacles was always the one to get him out of trouble. But still, they did everything together. There was many play dates, days exploring the frozen coast line, and days spent sitting around fishing or playing in the sea.

Teen Years / Early Adulthood

Arthur stayed up north longer than one would expect. Food was just enough for his mother to settle there, so the friendship laster for years more.

Barnacles joined the scouts, Arthur got better and better at surviving alone, the years went on. During this time, their bond peaked. However, it all came crashing down when Barnacles eventually left for better job opportunities down south, leaving Arthur behind. They hoped to see each other again soon, though that wasn't gonna happen for a long while.

In the meantime, Arthur spent his early adulthood surviving on his own (mother kicked him out as soon as she could). He spent his days traveling and wandering, eventually settling upon the American Northwest as his home. Along the way, he found new company in the form of Winona, a wild mustang. Next to Barnacles, Winona is the closest friend he has.

Later Years / Octoagent Era

When Barnacles managed to track him down and find him, both were beyond overjoyed at seeing the other alive. Barnacles was glad to see one of his oldest friends still alive, while Arthur was glad to see his at all. Following this, the friendship rekindled, and they went on like there wasn't a separation at all.

To avoid Arthur disappearing into the wild again, Barnacles strongly "nudged" for him to join the octoagents. It took some time, but Arthur eventually did, being hired on as an "expert explorer." It was mainly an excuse to keep in touch, but somehow, Arthur actually was good at his "job" as he managed to discover and catalog many environments, animal populations, and changes relating to Northwestern American ecosystems So, Arthur's pretty good at something. That and also serving as a good guide for emergencies in places where not even gups can reach.

As for Barnacles, he's just happy to go on any mission with his old "friend", no matter how mundane it is.

Smaller Bits

- Arthur is a certified horse girl, as he loves his horse more than he loves most things.

- There is some beef between him and Kwazii, mainly starting as arguments of "who is actually the captain's best friend" which usually extends to personal blows due to contrasting personalities. Barnacles can not keep these two together for long.

- He is more of a nomadic type, chosing to live with nothing but a tent and some supplies than in a proper den or home. Makes it kinda hard to have company over.

- Despite being in a job that requires social interaction, he isn't the most social of people.

- Winona is too smart to be a normal non sapient horse, and no one really believes Arthur when he says they've had many "conversations" together. Most believe he's off his rockers already, but Barnacles believes him (only a little).

[dykedvonte]

wanted to say I appreciate your nuanced takes on MW and especially Curly. i don't get the claim that the fandom is full of Curly apologists when majority (esp yt and tiktok) say he's worse than Jimmy. Yes there's commentary about bro culture defending people, he def messed up in trying to placate Jimmy (tbh "we'll fix this" sounded more like trying to keep someone prone to outbursts like Jim calm and not hurt Anya/himself) but I don't think he did nothing to help Anya, since she continued to confide in him and he had less than a week to resolve it before the crash (I also don't get everyone saying he knew for ages when it seems like Anya told him that same week). I get Jimmy's a pos but saying stuff like Curly should've known he'd crash the ship or that Jim had a criminal record he ignored, reducing them to obviously horrible villain and willfully ignorant sidekick feels like a disservice to the game. If your best friend turned out to be horrible, what would you do in a confined space in the span of a few days to respond? I'd say some of the horror comes from trying to do good but ultimately failing, Curly's state after the crash is meant to be tragic horror not revenge/punishment

Thank you and this is what I want to get across.

A lot of information we have to supplement when it comes to how long things have been happening on this current ship. I think people try to add on to the horror and negligence by making things more obvious so it can feel like it was easier to avoid when, true to life, its not. Jimmy clearly didn't deserve or appreciate what Curly did for him in getting him the job, but do you think if Jimmy was that big of a menace on Earth he would've given him a position where he could have that level of power over people's lives? There's something in the fact he specifically chose to pick a position so close to himself where he could watch Jimmy.

I hate the bro code argument because that is a whole can of worms people really don't get. That sort of mentality is born from the general respect and preference of male matter over female ones. Curly is clearly not that guy, he is absent minded about the issue and inadvertently dismissive but he clearly believes Anya, he just can't understand what she's going through. It's an onslaught of information that no one really reacts right to. Additonally, the entire discussion of her assualt plays to heavy into the idea that there is fault outside of the perpertratior when it comes to SA. It's too close if she only did this or if Curly had protected her better but the fact of the matter is Jimmy did what he did. He did it before any of the conversations with Anya about it and it's why her behavior seemed to change so drastically in those last two days.

He has other conflicting thought and while his role as a Captain should've taken over, people act like it's not a very human thing to have such a toxic presence cloud your judgement. It is never easy to separate friend from coworker once that connection is formed, you want to help them, especially if they were friend first and for a long while like in this case. It's not right, but people act like it would be easy when the game clearly points out that no choice is easy to make, especially when you have to make it for more than one person. You have the weigh the consequences, look at all the options and make a plan. People can headcanon and decide how long things where happening, but if we look at what we were presented through the characters eyes, the only person given time to do that was Jimmy.

He waited two months after the crash to appoint himself Captain. Every time a problem was brought up he immediately took action and refused to sit on it and find a better solution. I think it's important to look at the warped way Jimmy takes initiative where Curly didn't as it works as a good contrast of why you don't just run in to "fix" things. The quickest and easiest option may not be the safest or most beneficial. I think some thoughts on the game suffer from the black and white thinking the game doesn't operate on along with us being voyeurs. We see what exactly led to what but the characters don't. They don't have the hindsight and foresight we do and even ours is scrambled by the non-linear story telling.

Like it's hard to talk abuou those grey zones without sounding like an apologist because you're explaining why taking responsibility isn't easy. It's not and it's weird to act like it would be in a scenerio that led up to the events of the game knowing what we know. We see all these characters in such isolated moments with various things before, in between, after and even during we aren't privy too. The idea that Jimmy is worse than Curly heavily banks on the words Jimmy was saying to Jimmy before he crashed the ship. That whatever happened on the ship was his responsibility to bare, which is true due to his position. But, are they not still not responsible for taking the actions Curly then must bare?

Like i feel like people think that these are situation that become easier with age or when you are in a postion of authority and they aren't. You don't lose your biases or gain some sudden knowledge that makes it easier. It just becomes more tiring as you keep dealing with it. I would be first in line to say Curly fucked up and should've done more but the idea he knew how bad it could get or he really saw the worst in the people around him and ignored it pretty much ignores a huge aspect of his character and the game.

[the-lark-ascending69]

> be a robin buckley fan

> be lesbian

> project on robin

> look up "internalized homophobia robin buckley" on tumblr because it's cathartic

> 3/4 of the posts are about st3ddie or just about steve

[jackass-jones]

I’m pretty thankful for the fact that the letter has never been too popular cuz I know if it was I’d have to see the absolute worst takes about Luke Wright

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[dirt-str1der]

WHY DID YOU FEEL THE NEED TO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR AROACE SENKU HEADCANON ON MY GAY SENKU AND TRANS REI POST

Just finished Dr Stone Reboot

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[arminsumi]

tattoartist!suguru losing nonchalance when reader flirts with him?

im down bad for him holy hell

Oh, he's falling to pieces, got it bad for the girl he just met 'n he's gonna make a drunk little bet — y'think he's crazy enough to get your name tattooed on him? Or crazy enough to ink his name into your skin?

ㅤ★ wc; ~3k

ㅤ★ note; continuation of tattoo artist Suguru Geto!

ㅤ★ an; aaa!! you got my brain whirring like a laptop... tysm and i hope this makes u blush and kick ur feet as much as i did while writing!! 🍰✨

ㅤ★ tagz; @ohimsummer 💗@fairiesthrum💗 @heartofjasmina 💗 @kwonan 💗 @ghost-buddies 💗 @madamecorbie 💗 @mima0127 💗 @moggleatlife 💗 @natasaa13 💗 @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell 💗 @wakashudou 💗 @khaothick 💗 @candy-s72 💗 @creamflix 💗 @starriesworlds

ㅤ★ warnings; sum alcohol/drunkenness

“So, was she joking, or am I your type?” Suguru asks, black eyes staring right into your soul.

“Mm, well…” you hum, giving his form a look-over – god, if only you could feel how hard his heart’s beating when you do this. “Maybe.” You reply teasingly.

“Aw, just ‘maybe’?” he groans, now leaning his hip against the edge of the display case that housed the studs and gauge earrings.

“Yeah, just ‘maybe’ – I’m teasing. No, she wasn’t joking; I’ve always had a thing for the black hair, black nails, bad boy look…”

“The ‘bad boy’ look…?” he questions, recalling what your friend had said earlier about bad boys being just your type.

“Yeah, the ‘bad boy’ look.” You giggle.

His heart beats even harder, muttering a naughty little “Well, lucky me.”

“Nah, not so fast – I’m a smart woman.” You warn.

“Oh, are you?” he clicks his tongue in defeat, “Damn, would you believe that my type is smart women? No, no I’m serious… I’ve got a thing for smart women.”

Your cheeks grow hot, the heat spreading to your ears.

“I can assure you that the ‘bad boy’ look is just an aesthetic; I’m really an artsy dork making a living off doodling on people’s bodies.” He shrugs.

“Hm… maybe, maybe not.”

You rub your lips together. He briefly licks his bottom lip. You look him up and down. He looks you up and down. Body language open and alive with attraction, the both of you stand in this air of electric tension that Shoko spies from the other end of the room.

She watches as the two of you giggle like little flirts, observing how totally absorbed the two of you are in each other’s company. When you catch her eye, Shoko gives you a wink and points at her wrist, mouthing “five more” – fair enough, the two of you have promised to get pizza.

Pizza first, boys later, right?

Five minutes more go by – adding to the total of four hours spent at the tattoo & piercing parlor. But despite her discomfort and need for a change of scenery, Shoko decides to linger around just a little longer so that the two of you can indulge in each other just a little more.

But now you're getting nervous – Suguru has you breathless, holding you in a battle of who can flirt harder? which you're starting to lose.

He's captivated by you. This 6’3, tattooed, goth-grunge, slightly dorky man chuckles and smiles like he hasn’t had this much fun talking flirting with someone in years.

It's going well, then your smile trips him up. I know, it’s always the smile, huh? If you see enough of it, you slip… and that’s exactly what's happened to Suguru. He quickly grows obsessed with the way your cheeks look when you smile – the image burns into his memory without him even realizing it in the moment.

No, in the moment he doesn't realize the magnitude of your effect on him. He's just thinking about himself, about you, about —

“I’ve gotta go,” you say goodbye finally, “I don’t want to keep my friend waiting. But you’ll probably see my face here again… she loves dragging me along for these kinds of things.”

He stutters, “Oh! Oh… yeah – yes. Of course. Looking forward to it… maybe next time, you’ll be the one getting ink in your skin.”

“Yeah right.” You smile.

It’s your French exit that makes his heart throb in need.

No, don’t leave yet… I like you – don’t you ever wonder how many acquaintances in your life have thought this when leaving your company? And you’ll never even know.

Oh, Suguru was thinking so hard about asking you to exchange numbers or to meet up for coffee, but he didn’t want to come off as too forward – no, no… he had to maintain his mysteriousness. Or at least, he had to cling to whatever was left of it after revealing his inner dorkiness to you.

*****

After you leave, he wanders in and out of his studio, has small interactions with his co-workers, and doodles ideas for tattoos down.

Throughout all of these things, your face is at the forefront of his mind. Your voice echoes in his head as he recalls every detail of the conversation you two shared. Then he starts smiling softly as he applauds himself for being so gutsily flirty with you… a stranger, just someone, who he probably won’t see again…

A girl with no name.

God, why was he so slow? He didn’t even ask for your name. Suguru groans.

Yes, he probably won’t see you again… not unless your friend brings you along for her next visit. How long does he have to wait? Weeks? Months? That’s insane.

Suguru stops doodling, stares at the scrap of paper, and then looks up at the wall displaying his works. He rubs his fingers back and forth across his mouth.

I gotta.

He looks over to his phone. He reaches for it, takes it into his veiny hand, unlocks it, and scrolls through his list of contacts.

And then he dials his client’s number. Shoko Ieri.

*****

Now, it’s been just under an hour since you and Shoko left the tattoo parlour. She’s complained three times about the pain because exactly three times she has leaned back on the seat – squishing the fresh ink wound against her chair. You just cruelly laugh at how her eyes twitch in pain and each time.

The two of you sit eating pizza.

“He liked you. Why don’t we go back and you ask him for his number?” she teases.

“No way… he’ll think I’m too forward.” You shake your head.

Then three minutes later, Shoko's phone goes off. She reaches into her backpack. She looks at the caller ID, then at you, then at the caller ID, then –

“… is that him?”

“It’s him.”

“What’s he calling for! Me?”

“Absolutely he’s calling for you – I can bet gold on that.”

It stops ringing. She tells you she’ll text him back but guess what? She doesn’t even need to, because he calls again.

“Relentless.” She giggles. “I’m answering.”

“Pretend I’m not here!”

She winks at you and answers, “Hey, Suguru, what’s up?”

The two of you lean in until your foreheads press together – it’s still hard to make out every word.

“Yo.” You hear his smooth voice coming from the other side, “Sorry to bother you… (muffled)… your friend (muffled)… so embarrassed, so don’t tell her that I’m calling… (muffled)… what was her name?”

You clap your hand over your mouth when you hear those snippets.

She gives you a devious look before saying, “Oh! Well, she’s right here with me, actually, so you can ask her yourself.”

Mouth full of pizza, you freak out and X your arms to signal a fat NO WAY SHOKO! and fall to pieces all with the taste of pepperoni on your tongue.

But she just hands the phone over to you anyways, then proceeds to silently laugh as you spit out your pizza before talking.

“Hehlooo?”

“H-hey.”

You get right to the point. “My name’s Yn…”

“Oh… I like that… I’m Suguru.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Suguru. Suguru Geto.” He raises his voice.

Cheek hot against the screen of his phone, Suguru is silently freaking out at the tense silence. He can feel his stomach starting to flip. His mind blanks.

“Anyways! Um, that’s all.”

No. That’s not all. He has a novel’s length worth of things to talk about with you.

At this point, Shoko rolls her eyes at the two of you being so awkward on the phone and decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands.

So she snatches the phone from you.

“ – Suguru? Say, you wouldn’t be free on Saturday, would ya? Yeah, I’m going on a date with this guy… and I’d love to make it a double date with you and Yn if you’d like to –”

You hear him stutter out a yes, absolutely before Shoko can even finish her sentence. She grins.

Suguru can sense that the two of you are smiling and giggling. He can predict that the two of you are probably going to gossip about him being the 'dork from the tattoo parlor that called not once, but twice for the name of a girl he just met' – but he doesn’t care. He’s been presented an opportunity and taken it.

To hell with seeming too eager.

When the call ends, Suguru blows out a breath through his lips. Then he promptly texts his best friend. Dark strands of hair slip out of his sloppy bun as he puts his face over the screen, thumbs swift and eager.

Toru 🤞😜 lol bravo... but i thought u said she was out of ur league??

Sugu i mean... yes. she's way too pretty and smart for me. but i'm not gonna pass up this opportunity

Toru 🤞😜 still can't believe u called ur client just to get her friend’s name... lol

Sugu you would understand if you met her ok

Toru 🤞😜 damn she must be something else

Yes, yes you are something else — Suguru can’t even begin to describe why. Translating his thoughts into words isn’t his thing; he translates them into art.

****

It's later in the day. You're lazing around Shoko's apartment.

She confirms the time and place of the double date, and cackles on her couch while kicking her feet, teasing you for being so crazy about a guy you just met – her tattoo artist.

You just couldn’t stop talking about Geto Suguru.

“Shiiit, should I even let you and a bad boy like him be alone in a room together?”

“I can control myself.” you assure her.

She slowly shakes her head at you.

“Yeah right… but can he? I don't trust neither of you... miss crazy and mister crazy... you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

You giggle to yourself, biting your thumb. “Maybe…”

“Oh girl…” she groans, causing you to giggle into yourself, “You’re gonna be licking the tail of his dragon tattoo by the end of the date tomorrow.”

“H-h-he has a what? And where?” you stuttered, lashes quivering.

She shakes her head at you. “God, you’re screwed…”

*****

It's Saturday night. The bar's more alive than ever.

You've learned that Geto Suguru does, in fact, have a dragon tattoo inked up his toned arm – and a tight-fitting black tank top that shows it off along with his martial artist’s physique, too.

He’s got a glint of the devil in his black eyes. Softly-delivered dirty jokes ready to roll off his pierced tongue. A habit of tilting his head and looking hungrily at your lips and neck.

“Martial arts, huh?” you ask with stars in your eyes.

“Mhm, I could teach you a few things.” He purrs in reply.

Your stomach starts squeezing and flipping – that’s got to be the flirtiest 'mhm' that you’ve ever heard in your whole life.

“You think so?” you purr back.

Now it’s his turn to feel that squeezy, flippy feeling in his stomach.

Fuckfuckfuck is all he could think when he looks into your eyes.

I’m gonna fall to pieces. You’re gonna be the death of me.

“Uh…  do you two need some privacy?” Shoko teases.

Oh. It’s a double date. How could you forget? Shoko is literally sitting beside you at the bar with her date. But for a second there, it really felt like it was just you 'n this deliciously tattooed bad boy.

“Maybe.” Suguru chuckles coyly.

“There’s a hotel just next door…”

“Shoko!” you scold, playfully shoving her arm.

She giggles into herself, sipping down her cocktail innocently as if she didn’t just electrify the air between you and Suguru. His throat’s tensing, foot’s tapping up and down on the bar stool – boy’s got long spider-legs, huh?

Now after that, Suguru grins wider – showing off his pretty canines – his posture assuming something self-soothing; he holds his elbows, arms squished against his ribcage, which just makes his biceps more pronounced. Oh why, why did he have to wear a tank top like that? Surely he’s aware of the effect it has on girls. Or maybe he’s oblivious…

Nah. He's not.

*****

“Did it hurt?” you ask, trying to blink out the tipsiness from your love-drunk eyes but you’ve got three cosmopolitans surging through your veins.

“Not really… I’ve got great pain tolerance.” Suguru replies.

“Oh really?” you blink up at him again and his mind goes blank.

“Look at that...” He murmurs softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Where’s your friend and her date? Who knows. It’s just you and him now – and that’s all he wanted.

“Hm?”

“Not every day I see eyes like that…”

You widen your lips into a smile, “You’re laying it on thick.”

“Am I? Sorry – see, this is what happens after you feed Suguru too much rum. I just can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible… need someone to shut ya up?” you flirt.

He tilts his head at you, loose strands of hair shifting across his cheek. His left brow quirks up – he’s so taken aback by your forwardness but he falls right into it.

You just giggle flirtatiously after making that comment and pull the straw of your drink between your lips, sucking the remnants of a cosmopolitan into your mouth as sensually as you dare to in front of a bad boy who’s got bedroom eyes on you.

“I think I could do with some shutting up…” he admits.

“Mm,” you hum, “y’think by our third date you’re gonna snap and kiss me hard like we’re in a movie?”

Suguru smiles bashfully and looks down into his drink, swirling the melting ice cubes with a straw – slowly, round and round, they clink. Then he draws his gaze back to you, catching you with a sultry side-eye, and now it’s not just the ice cubes that are melting.

“Nah-uh…”

“Nah-uh?” you question.

“… I think it’s you who’s gonna snap first.” He says.

“Wanna bet?” you tease.

“Sure. What’ll be at stake?” he asks.

He keeps his sultry gaze on you as you look off to the side in thought for a moment. Your friend’s joke echoes in your mind.

“… you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

Then you look back to him – his heart throbs but he’s trying to keep it together here, pulling his straw to his lips to get a sip of whatever rum still exists in his glass.

“Loser gets a regrettable tattoo?” you suggest.

He looks at you with a little bit of disbelief at your boldness.

“How regrettable?” he questions, one eye squinting shut in suspicion. He's wondering just how wild you actually are.

“Like my name on you? Or vice versa.”

He covers his mouth and lets out a chuckle hearing this. “You want me to tattoo my name on ya skin?” he teases. “Sure, I’ll bet on that.”

You can’t believe that he’s matching your crazy.

You stutter, replying only after a lingering moment of hot eye contact, “… there’s no way I’m gonna snap first…” you say boldly, proceeding to pop the cherry of your drink into your mouth and eating it right in front of the poor boy’s eyes. “ ‘m gonna have you walkin’ around with my name on you.”

Eyes glued on your lips, his breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah?”

Ooh, there it was. That feeling. That body singing electric songs feeling… that tummy-tightening, blood-rushing, skin-flushing feeling – it hit him all at once. He knows that if he were standing, his knees would have buckled now for sure, or at least he would have felt the tremor of your words under his feet.

He’s unsteady – smiling uncontrollably, looking dishevelled and softly drunk. Those rouge lips are begging to be kissed.

The bar grows quieter and quieter.

You’re hardly able to call each other anything more than strangers, and yet you’re leaning into him, closing the distance.

The tips of your noses are just inches apart now. You’re in each other’s air. He eyes out your lips, feels your hot, liquor-scented breath tickle his face.

But when you try and close the distance, he raises his hand and presses his thumb against your soft lips, stopping you.

“What happened to that bold statement, huh? Keep it together, baby; the bet’s on.” He feathers against your face.

*****

Tumbling into Shoko’s apartment after a night out drinking, you smile and giggle into the pillows of her bed.

She’s letting her hair down and swapping out her tight dress for jammies when she looks at you in your gleeful state.

“Someone’s in love.” She teases, coming over to tickle you.

“I’m not in love!”

“Oh, quit the act; I saw how the two of you said goodbye – you could barely hold yourself together. Drunk or not, I ain’t seen two adults giggling like that before.”

“Sh!” you swat her, “Not! In! Love!”

She takes a look into your eyes and observes your smile, then shakes her head. You're drowsy, so you make a dive into her bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

Shoko pulls a blanket over you, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“Madly in love, at the very least.”

[lilislegacy]

idk if this is an unpopular opinion or not, because i’ve seen a lot of people say stuff like “percy knows better than to go against annabeth”

but see, most people - anyone with a brain, really - are way too scared to challenge annabeth. because 99% of the time, she’s right. she’s always the most intelligent person in the room. shes not only logical and strategic, but she’s sharp, cunning, and even manipulative if she has to be. (as we’ve seen when she’s faced monsters). no one goes against her. one wants to, no one dares.

expect percy. if there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s argue with annabeth. it’s like breathing. but unlike when they were kids, they don’t truly fight over stupid things. sure, they bicker and squabble over little things, because that’s who they are as a couple. but percy is the only person who will actually challenge her on something real. something big. he doesn’t do it lightly, because he knows how smart she is. but if he truly believes there’s another angle to something, or that she’s wrong because maybe she doesn’t have all the information, or maybe his heart is just in a different place - he’ll go against her. we see it in mark of athena a couple times. (their face-off kinda puts hazel in a trance). in BotL, there’s an argument between them, and i remember it’s stated that watching them argue is like watching an intense tennis match. its heated and fast paced. people make fun of percy for being dumb, and yet percy is the only one that can keep up with annabeth. he knows her better than anyone. he doesn’t think the same as her, but he knows how she thinks. so yeah, he will call her out. he’ll tell her he disgrees. he’ll even tell her that she’s wrong. and people think he’s crazy when he does it.

but annabeth respects the hell out of him for it. and while she might dismiss anyone else immediately, she won’t with him. because she respects him tremendously, and knows if he’s challenging her, there’s something to it. it doesn’t mean she’s gonna let him win, or that she’s gonna back down, because they are both ridiculously stubborn and determined. but he’ll go head to head with her. he’ll have a screaming match with her. and she loves him for it. she respects him for it. and she finds it ridiculously attractive.

because percy and annabeth are equals.

[seiwas]

IRIS I AM LITERALLYABSJXNID XOMF 😭😭😭😭 i love him . thank u . i love him . i loooooooooove him . i ran out of tags iris but him asking for ur socials if numbery is uncomfy? the cherry on top he is literally the dream . the respectful boy to ever . and i need him . want him . NEOOOOOOOOOOOWWW

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

summary: a creep walks up to the shake stand window. your favorite customer scares him off. (college au!iwaizumi x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: college!au iwaizumi, creepy dude but he gets scared off don't worry, buff iwa gets nervous around you

note: so there's a protein shake stand like right outside my school's gym and that's where the inspiration for this little brain fart came from. also this is wholeheartedly dedicated to @shotorus my favorite iwa simp. i really hope you like this, it's my first time writing for your man but it most definitely will not be the last :D

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <3

You didn’t anticipate finding a gym crush outside of the student rec center. Yet, there he was, every day at 5:00 passing the stand and every day at 6:30 ordering his usual, strawberries and bananas with chocolate protein powder. It’s a wonder how strictly he stuck to his schedule and you made it a point to have his order queued up in the system by the time he got to the window. To your detriment, it seemed that your infatuation had become obvious enough to your usually-oblivious coworkers. 

“At this point, I think you took this job just to ogle him,” one of your friends points out as she runs a colander of fruit under the faucet. You give her a lighthearted glare and she flicks a few water droplets at you. “I’d guess you like seeing him more than the tips that other guys put in the jar. You really do so much for this company,” she says patronizingly and you roll your eyes. She had a point; you tended not to notice the phone numbers written on dirty napkins or social media handles hastily drawn on dollar bills. None of them interested you. None of them, except for the dude with a body like a Greek hero that made you want to get kidnapped by some mythological being. 

“I just think he has a nice physique; is that such a bad thing?” She shoots you a skeptical look and you turn away sheepishly to check the clock. Thirty seconds to 6:30. “He should be here in a little bit,” you say quietly to yourself, hoping she doesn’t hear. It’s a nice sentiment, but ultimately futile. 

“You’re counting down the seconds? Man, you’re worse than I thought.” She pats your shoulder sympathetically as she passes behind you and you lean your hands on the register counter. 

“As if you’ve never had a gym crush before,” you fire back. 

“You’re supposed to actually be inside the gym to have a gym crush,” she reminds you and you groan. “Why don’t you just switch your shift so you can see him while you workout?”

“I tutor before this, remember? Plus, I need to be able to charm the evening regulars so I can keep paying rent,” you admit. She nods in understanding and a glance at the clock shows ten seconds until 6:30. Your other usuals had come and gone for the day: the guy in the blue tank top that only seemed to work his forearms and biceps, the girl with the silly socks that had the most muscular calves you’d ever seen, the two frat bros with their backwards caps and arrogant voices. It hits 6:30, however, and your favorite regular isn’t behind the glass. He isn’t anywhere around, you realize. You can’t help the frown that draws the corner of your mouth down and, when you look to your coworker for support, she merely shrugs before grabbing a tub of powder from the top shelf. “It’s odd that he isn’t here yet.”

“Only you would think that,” she teases and you refocus on pulling up his usual order on the payment screen. “Maybe he got sick. There’s that frat flu going around right now.”

“Why would he be in a frat, though? And also, he’s definitely the type to wipe the hell out of every machine he uses.”

“If he uses machines; personally, he strikes me as a free weights-only kind of guy.” Before you can reply, a knock on the glass startles you back into customer-service mode. The man in front of you looked relatively normal, but the way his eyes looked you up and down several times made your stomach queasy. It wasn’t the first time creeps had checked you out through the window, but maybe you were feeling a little extra vulnerable waiting around for a regular who didn’t even know your name. Avoiding the man’s intrusive gaze, you shakily pull up his order, swipe his card for payment, and let him know that his shake would be ready soon. 

“I have a question,” he says slowly before you can run and hide in the back. “What time are you out of here?”

“I’m not done for a while,” you state vaguely, praying that he wouldn’t ask about the remaining two and a half hours of your shift. “I work until closing.”

“I can come back and get you when you close.” His voice makes your skin crawl and his eyes feel like knives on your body.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me take you out to dinner. A nice looking person like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Your heart drops into your stomach and your feet remain rooted to the floor, terrified in place. Was he gonna try to do something after you were off?

“Look, I’m not interested in any–”

“Hey, man. Are you done ordering yet? You’re holding up the line,” intrudes a voice that feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders. Somewhere between his usual order time and the creep asking you out, your favorite little crush came to stand in line to pay. His shoulders seemed extra broad today and the muscle of his biceps flexed under his compression shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring daggers down at the guy who was freaking you out. He’d never looked so handsome, all sharp jawline and flexed muscles and piercing eyes. The creep recoils and scurries away, allowing you to take a deep breath that helps relieve some of the tension in your forehead. By pure muscle memory and running on adrenaline, your fingers swipe over the tablet and pull up his usual order before he can even say hello. 

“Strawberry and banana with chocolate protein powder, right?”

“Yeah, that…that’s mine,” he says, slightly taken aback by the lingering expression of panic on your face. While he eyes you warily, you swipe his card and hand him his receipt, suddenly desperate to just disappear into the back for the rest of your shift. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? No, yeah. I’m fine, totally fine,” you lie and give him a weak smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and you can feel him try to analyze you, but not in the dehumanizing way as your previous customer. His eyes searched your expression worriedly and you caught him biting skin from his lip in concern. “It’s just that the guy before you was being a little weird.” Calling him “weird” was an understatement, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already have. “I’m fine, really.” He watches you for a moment more and then nods, murmuring a thank you under his breath and finding a spot to wait for his shake. 

“This fell on the floor by the trash can,” he says plainly when he walks up to the pickup window after you call out his drink. The creepy guy hadn’t left the area yet, so your fight or flight instincts were still going haywire. Your gym crush, however, momentarily takes your attention by subtly sliding a dirty piece of paper across the counter to you as he picks up his cup with the other hand. “Thanks; I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can blink, he’s gone, leaving you with a cryptic folded message that makes your head spin. You sputter out an awkward farewell and hastily unfold the piece of paper. 

I’ll be studying in the computer lab until the stand closes. If he’s still bothering you, come find me and I’ll walk you to your car or your dorm or wherever. -Iwaizumi Hajime 

A sturdy rectangle of plastic falls from the paper and you stare at it in disbelief. It was an ID card for the university’s after-hours patrol division with his picture, full name, and student number printed on it. Iwaizumi, you echo mentally, you’re too good to be true. And, true to his promise, he’s a respectful distance away and stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants at 9:00 when you lock up the shake stand. You’d lost sight of the creep an hour after Iwaizumi picked up his drink, but the paranoia didn’t leave your body and you’re only able to relax when he approaches you. 

“This is yours,” you say, handing him his ID card with a small smile. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he replies regretfully, uncomfortably adjusting his water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. “None of the guys at the gym like him. He’s always hitting on girls and giving them weird looks.” 

“Looks like he was forced to look outside the gym, then,” you laugh lightly, feeling the tension release from your shoulders as you walk next to Iwaizumi in the direction of the parking lot. “Did your drink still taste okay? Or did my nervousness make it taste funny?” When he chuckles, it sounds like sunshine. 

“It was just as tasty as it always is, thank you. You’ve really figured out how to make me the perfect drink every time.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say without hesitation and your face feels like it’s been lit on fire. To your surprise, however, it seemed that Iwaizumi was just as flustered by your words. His eyes widen and his pretty mouth gapes a little bit, blinking rapidly to fix the short circuit in his brain. “I just hope he doesn’t come around here again. He makes my stomach churn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he forces out and he’s silent for a while until your car is in sight. “Hey, sorry if this is super off-base, but do you wanna workout with me sometime? I can change the time I go but, if it means you don’t feel scared by that guy anymore, I’ll gladly rearrange my schedule.” 

“You want me to workout with you?”

“I’d like to meet you for lunch sometime, too, but I figured I’d start with baby steps,” he admits, running a hand nervously through his hair while you fish your keys from your bag. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, I’d love to,” you reassure him and he looks visibly relieved. “I’ll change up my shift so you can still go around the same time you usually do, and I can just meet you outside. I’ve been needing a new spotter since mine picked up extra shifts in the library.” 

“Great, yeah, awesome,” he says, a little dumbfounded by how eagerly you would give him a chance. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to ask you your name for months since you memorized his order, but he didn’t want to come off as pushy and ruin his chance with you. “Do you, uh, mind if I give you my number? Or I can give you a social media handle too if you’re not comfortable sharing your number.” God, he’s so good. He is so, so good. “Can you let me know you get home safe?”

“I will,” you promise. “Thank you for everything, Iwaizumi.”

“You can call me Hajime, if you want,” he offers softly and the fondness in his voice makes your heart flip. “Iwaizumi is fine too. Anything is fine.” 

“Right,” you smile. “Well, goodnight, Hajime. Get home safe.”

“You too. Talk soon, okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[risuola]

I — NOT YET // When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

contents: smut, mafia!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm.

Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

I found and read this cute story on AO3, about Frostbite being Danny's legal parental guardian. In the story Bruce Wayne runs into Frostbite (in his full yeti glory no disguise) who is setting up for school bake sale. Got me thinking about what if Danny's past rogues took turns filling in and doing parental stuff especially at school functions. Like Frostbite does the bake sale, Pandora shows up for his games, Ghostwriter goes to all of the PTA meetings, Clockwork goes to teacher meetings, so on and so forth.

The 43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale by Faeriekit

Ohhh, that sounds good! I'll get it a read when I have some time. Thank you for the rec!

Danny Fenton is one of the lucky few who have a very involved household. His various family members would always sign up for any school event the boy needed support in. It didn't mean that the boy won everything, but as a teacher for nine years, Emily has come to learn how much it mattered to just have someone show up.

She had seen students whose entire faces light up after spotting someone in the crowd in the same amount she saw a student's hope crumble after they scanned the room.

Danny was a polite young man, a bit on the shyer side, but kind and not a troublemaker, his previous school had her believe. If anything, he seemed to struggle with fitting in, but no students blatantly disliked him.

The general opinion of Danny matched, as her students would say, "I know him from class, but I don't really talk to him. He seems cool though".

Maybe that's why so many people were supposed by his family to march into the auditorium during Danny's talent show. Seeing him wave at the row before starting his gymnastic act had been such a surprise.

Now, Gotham wasn't a close-knit community, not with the size of their city and the millions of people living within it, but everyone would have noticed that Danny was adopted.

After all, he was the only one that wasn't glowing or a large humanoid animal. They cheered the loudest among the crowd; uncaring Danny got bronze- having lost to Joey's tapping dancing for second and Damian's spectacular multi-instrumental cover of a meme song for first place- and Danny beamed back at them.

Gotham was known for not being meta-friendly, but that was only due to a few mean people who shouted the loudest on media outlets. Many of Emily's students were meta, had family that were meta, or knew someone meta. It wasn't a common enough trait one would encounter a meta on every outing, but you would see them in Gotham well enough.

Everyone knew, but no one said it out loud. In the same way, she knew which students' parents were in the country illegally but worked harder than anyone else. Saying anything would help the cops, or worse, the rich running Gotham.

Even the most prejudiced Gothamite would rather be spat on then give them aid. And those who were so prejudiced to help the poor man's enemies, well, Emily has lived here long enough to know they vanished rather quickly. The smart ones kept their mouths shut.

No one could forget what happened to that guy who accidentally insulted Penguin. His grandmother had been an illegal immigrant on his mother's side.

No one messed with that side of the family.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson." Danny's adoptive father, Dr. Frostbite said, ducking down to avoid banging his head on the door. On one of his shoulders was a box of hotdog wieners; on the other were multiple bags of bread. "I'm here for my snack bar shift."

Emily tilts her head back to look the Yeti in the eye. He had been shocked the first time they met, but she could admit that Dr. Frostbite was a relatively gentle and wise soul. "Welcome aboard. The girls are just about to take the field. You can put that down by the crock pot over there."

The mountain of white fur brushes by her with the grace of a king as Dr. Frostbite does as she says. There were no customers at the window, so she leaned on the counter and offered him a smile. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Yes. I was saddened our team did not win, but Danny hit a home run." Dr. Frostbite's sharp smile could have been frightening if he wasn't oozing parental pride. "I caught it all on video."

Emily opens her mouth to respond when a hand lands loudly on the counter with a loud crack. Her heart leaps, and she looks into Danny's Ember. She isn't one of Emily's students, though she does appear to be a teenager in appearance.

You know. If it wasn't for her hair made of fire. Or her blue skin. Or her glow.

"I set a boy on fire," She announces with a cackle.

"That's so?" Dr. Frostbite gently rips open the box, taking out the hotdog packages. With one large claw, he rips a hole into it and lets the few weiners slide into the crockpot with a gentle splash. "What did he do?"

"Tried to slap me on the butt." She huffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk doesn't lose an edge of smugness.

"Well done." Dr. Frostbite praises placing the lid back on. It always surprised Emily to see such careful actions from the large creature. "I assume you did so out of Pandora's line of sight?"

"Naturally. I don't want her lecturing me in front of the whole community." Ember scoffs, crossing her arms. Behind her, the top of Pandora's head can be seen swinging side to side over the dugout, keeping an eye on the ball.

She was the best volunteer referee because even the parents knew not to shout insulting things when she was present. Emily doesn't think she has had such peaceful games in a long while. Hopefully, Danny will try out again for baseball next year so the woman can return.

"Oh hey, you're Danny's English teacher, right? Mrs. Johnson?" Ember asks, leaning on the counter to give Emily a curious look.

When the blond nods, holding out her hand for a shake. "That's right. It's nice to see you again, Ember."

The girl's hair flairs a little as a grin grows on her face. Her hand is ice cold to the touch, but she's got a firm grip that her husband would appreciate. "Likewise. I got a message for you from Ghostwriter. He sent the notes for the last PTA meeting to you and the revision playwright for the musical you two were working on."

Emily's mood brightens up. "That's wonderful. Could you tell him I'll check it out when I get home and get to my laptop since my phone broke in the last Two-Face attack?"

Ember's hair flickers in the wind when she nods, but Danny bounces right up behind her just as she opens her mouth to speak. He's wearing his Gotham Acadamy Baseball uniform with pride despite them losing. "Hey, Frostbite, can I go with Tim and Duke to get Peoeria Pizza? We'll be back before the girl's game ends."

"Only if you take Ember with you," Dr.Frostbite says, nodding to his daughter, who looks alarmed to be included. "She needs more friends."

"Hey!"

"Sure. Come on, Ember, you'll get along with Duke. He likes old-school rock."

"It's not old-school!"

Emily laughs, watching the two siblings bicker as they stride away, blending into the crowd with no one batting an eye at the glowing girl anymore. How blessed that boy was.

"I'm glad Danny has gotten comfortable here. I always worried he never was going to have a normal childhood." Dr. Frostbite confesses to swirling the hotdogs around in the water to ensure each one is cooked.

"I think you and the rest are doing a wonderful job. You're a great father." She assures him, thinking wistfully of her William. He's been on deployment for a few months now and will likely miss the holidays again, but his contract is almost up. They may try for a child when he gets in the reserves. "How are things at the clinic?"

"Oh, wonderful. I'm grateful that Mr. Wayne has allowed the expansion of Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic. Dr. Thompkins will be covering the east side of Gotham while I help those on the west. It's much more fulfilling than working in some hospital that demands funds for the silliest things. Back home, that would have been illegal. The people would have burned me at the stake if I had allowed anyone to pass away due to greed."

"My kind of people." She laughs. A sharp crack sounds from the field as the bat makes contact with the ball, and the crowd goes wild. It's a wonderful day.