#i wasn’t laughing anymore when i was done with typing though

[gay-dorito-dust]

How these goofs react to you letting go of their hand all of a sudden…

Dick’s is a bit short cuz it is. Take that what you will. Plush he looks like the type to have a somewhat skincare routine/ enjoy participating in a skincare routine but that’s just me.

Dick Grayson exe has stopped working.

No literally, he just stares at his hand that you let go of as it grasps thin air.

You broke him. Congratulations.

Now apologise to poor Dickie bird for pulling such a stunt.

‘Why did you let go? What’s wrong?’ He’d ask, reaching a hand over to try and grab your hand again, only for you to pull away.

You shrugged ‘nothing, I just don’t feel like holding hands right now.’

Dick blinked. ‘Is it because I’m wearing moisturiser and it’s making your hand slip out of mine?’ He asked out of the blue and you couldn’t help but smile at his spontaneity sometimes.

‘No, it’s not because of that, even though it doesn’t get a bit…much sometimes.’ You muttered the last part under your breath. Dick beamed brightly when it wasn’t anything that he had done specifically that made you want to stop holding hands, and immediately grabbed for your hand again and intertwined your fingers together. ‘Good because I hope you know that I’m not letting go of your hand now.’ He said.

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop him as Dick was at his cutest when he was happy and beaming brightly; Besides it was a silly prank you pulled that wouldn’t have lasted long anyways. ‘Fine by me, Dickie bird. Fine by me.’ You said to yourself as you both walked home from a date night well done.

Jason Todd would only try to hold your hand again as though nothing happened.

Then when you’d slip your hand from him a second time, Jason would stop, grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours and hiss. ‘Stop it, you’re acting like you don’t want to hold my hand.’

‘Well what if I don’t to?’ You asked him innocently enough and Jason stops to look at you, eyes softened. ‘If you didn’t want to hole my hand chipmunk, all you had to do was say so.’ Just as he was about to let go of your hand completely, you were quick to hold his hand and intertwine your fingers with his.

Jason raised his brows at you. ‘I didn’t peg you as the type to backpedal on your own prank sweetheart.’ He began. ‘Now I wonder why that is?’ He’d ask as he began to lead you both down the street again. You pouted, squeezing his hand, too stubborn to admit the fact that you loved the way that Jason’s hand felt within your own; Feeling protected, safe and sound. Also with the way that his hand encased yours in pure warmth was just an added bonus.

‘You keep me warm.’ You said but the way you worded it made it sound more of a question than anything else, and Jason picked that up almost immediately as he wolfishly smirked at you. ‘Is that your sole reason. That I keep you warm?’ He asks as he leaned towards your face, his hot breath fanning across your face. ‘Now why don’t I believe that.’ He adds and you took a deep breath to compose yourself before responding. ‘Believe me or not but that’s my only reason for holding your hand.’

Jason pouts as he holds his free hand against his chest as though he were hurt by your response. ‘If all I am to you is a hand warmer, then I guess I must accept my fate.’ He joked and you couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, fondly remembering the night that he confessed his adoration for everything theatre. ‘I guess you should.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘We’ve got some books that require some much needed reading waiting for us at home after all.’ You added and smiled as Jason practically dragged you all the way home as he strode long strides.

Damian Wayne would react to you unceremoniously letting go of his hand the same way he’d react if someone were to insult his entire lineage; with a disgusted sneer.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He’d ask, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously unamused.

‘Didn’t feel like holding your hand anymore.’ You admitted with a shrug.

Damian huffs. ‘If that’s your reasoning then so be it.’ He’d then continue to walk off without another word.

Yep, that was Damian’s way of telling you that you just lost hand holding privileges for a week. Upon noticing this, you were quick to try and catch up to him and attempted multiple times to hold his hand once more, only for Damian to swiftly avoid your advances as though you were the plague.

‘Damian.’ You grunted as he dodged another one of your attempts of holding his hand. ‘Hold still and let me hold your fucking hand.’ Damian raised his brow at you and scoffs. ‘Tt. Done being childish have you?’ He asks rhetorically as you tried to hold his hand for the third time in the past five minutes. ‘It was only a prank Dami!’ You exclaimed, stopping in your footfalls when Damian stopped abruptly in front of you.

‘I’m aware.’ He answered dryly.

‘If I say sorry, will you let me hold your hand?’ You asked, regretting ever pulling a prank on Damian on the first place because no matter how low you’d go, Damian would somehow manage to go into the depths of hell to get his own back tenfold. Damian raised his brows. ‘Perhaps. Depends on how well put together your apology is.’

You groaned in frustration, knowing that you’ll never win with this little shit. ‘Fine. I’m sorry for pranking you Damian. How’s that for an apology?’ You said as quickly as you could just to get it over with in hopes of sparing yourself even more embarrassment. Damian pondered for a little bit and was about to say no and go back to walking, but when he caught a glimpse of your face, he knew then and there that he had truly gone soft as he found himself offering up his hand to you.

‘Don’t do it again.’ Was all he said and you immediately beamed as you clasped your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as you began to walk down the street.

[scoupsakakitty]

A/N: Since it’s my Birthday today, I thought I’d surprise you guys with something small I wrote for you. I hope you like it! 🌹

A Rose for Every Regret | idol!S.coups x Reader | fluff

It had been a long day at work. Y/N stepped out of the elevator and dragged herself down the hallway, the weight of her bag feeling heavier than usual. Her birthday wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She had hoped for something… better. But birthdays didn’t seem special anymore, especially after the breakup with Seungcheol, or as everyone else knew him, S.Coups.

He was always too busy, too distracted, too caught up in his own world to notice the little things that mattered to her. So, when they ended things six months ago, she swore she wouldn’t let herself get pulled back into that kind of hurt.

Unlocking her apartment door, Y/N paused. Something felt… different.

She stepped inside, immediately greeted by a sight she couldn’t have expected in a thousand years. Roses. Dozens of roses in vases, arranged perfectly on every available surface in her small living room. The air was thick with their sweet, floral scent.

Her eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest.

“What the…” she whispered, dropping her bag to the floor.

There was no note, no explanation. But there didn’t need to be. She knew exactly who had done this.

Reaching for her phone, she typed a quick message, her fingers shaking slightly:

Y/N:

Cheol, what the hell? We’re not even together anymore. And how did you even get into my apartment?

It didn’t take long for his reply to come through.

S.Coups:

You never changed your door code.

Her jaw dropped.

Y/N:

Are you serious? That doesn’t give you the right to break in and do… whatever this is!

S.Coups:

I wanted to make your birthday special.

She stared at the message, feeling a complicated mix of emotions anger, confusion, and a small flicker of something she didn’t want to name.

Rolling her eyes, she tossed her phone onto the couch and tried to focus on cleaning up. But every time she looked at the roses, her chest tightened.————————————————————————————-Hours passed, and the sun dipped below the horizon. She had just settled down with a glass of wine, trying to ignore the flowers staring at her from every corner of the room, when the sound of her door opening made her freeze.

Her head snapped toward the entrance.

“Cheol?!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp.

He stepped inside casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He was dressed in his practice clothes sweatpants, a hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled low over his messy hair. In his hands were several gift bags and a small cake box.

“What are you doing here?!” she demanded, standing up so quickly she nearly knocked over her wine glass.

He smiled sheepishly. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

Her heart betrayed her, skipping a beat at the sight of him. He looked tired, but his eyes held that same warmth she’d fallen in love with years ago.

She folded her arms, trying to steady herself. “You can’t just walk into my apartment like this! Seriously, Cheol, what’s wrong with you?”

He set the bags and cake down on the coffee table and straightened up. “I couldn’t stay away. Not today.”

She let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, really? You had no problem staying away last year when we were still together. Remember? You were ‘too busy’ to even call me on my birthday.”

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I’ve messed up a lot. That’s why I’m here. I needed to see you, to say I’m sorry.”

Her arms stayed crossed, her gaze hard. “And you thought breaking into my apartment was the best way to do that?”

“I didn’t break in,” he argued lightly, scratching the back of his neck. “You really should change your code, though.”

“Cheol!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! But I just… I needed to see you.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why now? Why today?”

“Because I couldn’t let another birthday go by without making it right,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ve been such an idiot, Y/N. I know that. I was so caught up in work, in everything else, that I forgot what was most important. You.”

She looked away, his words hitting her harder than she wanted to admit. “Cheol, we’ve been over this. It’s too late. We’re not together anymore.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “And it’s my fault. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Every day, every night, I miss you. I miss us.”

Her heart ached, but she kept her face neutral. “That’s not fair, Cheol. You don’t get to just walk back in and say this now.”

“I know it’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’m begging you, Y/N. Give me one more chance. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll show you every day how much you mean to me.”

She met his gaze, her defenses crumbling just a little. “You didn’t even have time for me before. Why should I believe you now?”

“I’ll make time,” he promised, stepping even closer. “I’ll prove it to you. Starting now.”

He reached into one of the gift bags and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box. “This is for you.”

Reluctantly, she took the box and opened it. Inside was a delicate bracelet with a tiny rose charm, simple but beautiful.

“It’s not much,” he said, watching her reaction. “But I wanted you to have something that reminded you of how much I love you.”

Her breath caught. “Cheol…”

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “And I know it’ll take time to fix things. But please, let me try. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Tears welled up in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. She hated how much she still loved him, how much she wanted to believe him.

“You really hurt me, Cheol,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“I know,” he said, stepping closer and gently taking her hand. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

For a long moment, she just looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or insincerity. But all she saw was love raw, desperate, and unshakable.

Finally, she sighed, a small, watery smile breaking through. “You’re such a pain, you know that?”

His face lit up with hope. “Is that a yes?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “It’s a maybe.”

He grinned, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll take it.”

As his arms wrapped around her, she felt a warmth she hadn’t felt in months. Maybe he really had changed. Maybe this time, things would be different.

————————————————————————————-

And as they sat together, sharing cake and laughter, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight and the scent of roses, she realized that she was ready to try again.

After all, love was worth the risk. And with Cheol, it felt like coming home.

[ghosttotheparty]

saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize also on ao3

He’s met with silence. 

Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now. 

Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed. 

Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.

“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”

“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“

“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence. 

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands. 

“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”

“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“

“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”

He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up. 

Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again. 

“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head. 

“I’m just…”

He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her. 

The silence is back after a door slams upstairs. 

Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him. 

“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”

“Mom—”

“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”

“Ms Byers—”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all.  He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers. 

“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying. 

“Eddie, dude.”

Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak. 

It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time. 

“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”

If it is true.

They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know. 

He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet. 

Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous. 

“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.

Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo. 

Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold. 

He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again. 

Until he can breathe without suffocating. 

He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily. 

He’s never felt like this before. 

He feels so… lonely. 

He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor. 

He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s. 

He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims. 

He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”

Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating. 

“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?” 

Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously. 

“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”

Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining. 

“Embarrassed?”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly. 

“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.” 

Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful. 

“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”

“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks. 

“What about me?” 

Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind. 

“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?” 

Eddie blinks again. 

Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.

Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again. 

“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…” 

Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…” 

He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him. 

“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.” 

Steve nods. 

And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die. 

Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go. 

Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares. 

Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls. 

“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

It’s not fair. 

It’s fucking bullshit. 

The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself. 

He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath. 

“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again. 

“What?” Steve whispers. 

“...He’s fucking right.”

Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again. 

And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt. 

“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively. 

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods. 

He feels sick again. He can’t breathe. 

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back. 

“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”

Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes. 

“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly. 

“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak. 

“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close. 

“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…” 

He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again. 

Steve says his name. 

It always sounds so nice in his mouth. 

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

 Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches. 

“Really?” Eddie asks weakly. 

“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers. 

Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah,” he chokes. 

Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying. 

But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his. 

“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads. 

Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part. 

They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm. 

Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull. 

Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall.  Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip. 

“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—

“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. 

Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room. 

Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders. 

“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly. 

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair. 

Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by. 

He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him. 

But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin. 

He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves. 

[animeniacss]

hiiii are you taking requests? 🥹 i was wondering if you could write a fluffy second chance romance trope with mingyu x reader? 🫶🏻

I am so sorry this took a million years longer than I wanted! But it's all done and I hope you enjoy!! <3

Synopsis: Mingyu's job as an idol is very demanding, but you guys want to make it work.

Tags: Idol!Mingyu, Canon, Second Chances, Fluff, A bit of angst, Flashbacks

Length: approx. 3.2k words

Mingyu x Reader - The Good Easily Outweights the Bad

You were sitting on the couch, a book in your hand and a coffee on the end table. Your TV has been playing a shuffled mix of different songs, the ambiance changing from power ballads to Western indie pop, to whatever was the top-charting idol song in the past few weeks. You didn’t mind, though. It was a type of chaos you never minded, a type of chaos you preferred. 

One that at times, you even missed.

A familiar rumbling of thunder came up on the television screen and you didn’t even need to look up from your book to feel your lips quirk up into a sad smile. When you did, however, it was just in time for the familiar piano sounds to click into view. A familiar chant was called into the screen, and the song began. 

You set your book down, eyes focused solely on the song. MAESTRO by Seventeen was playing, their most recent comeback and it was one that frequently kept coming up in your song rotation. Mostly because you put it there. 

Well, you and Kim Mingyu himself, that is.

“Have you seen it? Have you seen it?!” Mingyu was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood in front of your TV. You smiled up at him from the couch, lounged in your sweats and a large tee shirt - it was his - as he typed in the name of their newest video to the search bar. 

“You told me to wait for you to come over, Gyu,” you said behind a giggle. Mingyu turned to you, laughing shyly as he remembered the request. Once the video was up, he walked to the couch, immediately plopping at your side and tugging you under his arm, resting his hand around your waist. Your eyes flickered up to him as the video began, amusement and fondness in your features as you turned back to the video. 

Mingyu always liked playing his music when the two of you were together. Not because he was vain or expected praise, if anything it was the opposite. You would compliment his scenes and he’d blush; lopsided smile and all as he told you to ‘knock it off’. However, you never did, and he never protests under real stress. So, you assumed he played the videos because he liked being teased. And you liked to tease. It was good like that. 

Mingyu hasn’t been to your apartment in a little over two weeks.

Not because you didn’t want him to be. You always wanted him to be. But it wasn’t possible, not the way it used to be. Mingyu’s job as an idol was demanding, especially with all of his success these past few years. From a brand ambassador who traveled the world, to a variety show participant, to a pop idol, Mingyu’s time was spread thin in his career. That meant little, if any, of that time was for you. And that killed you. 

As the song came to an end, another was right on the horizon. It stayed like that for a good three or four songs, and you did not have the heart to change it. You made it louder. Maybe it was because it brought back good memories, of times when the two of you were still able to cuddle on the couch and watch music videos or TV until he had to go for the night. Or even better, until the two of you fell asleep on the couch and woke up in the middle of the night still cuddled up the way you had been. 

You got up as the song changed once again, making your way into the kitchen. End tables and shelves were still littered with photos of the two of you, of you two with both his members and your friends. You knew after a month of not being involved with MIngyu anymore, you really should put them away. Not throw them out, but store them somewhere. But looking at them made you feel a bit of comfort, and you didn’t have enough time or money to go out knick-knack shopping for replacements. So there, the memories sat. 

You opened the fridge, pulling out a tupperware of leftovers from the previous night. You popped open the plastic, the smell of leftover fried rice making your belly rumble and your mind race. 

“Gyu, I’m starving, babe.” You whined, laying your head on the table. Mingyu chuckled from the counter, turning to look at the pan he was currently frying up rice in.

“I said we should order something in because it’s so late.” he reminded. 

“But I haven’t seen you, and I missed your cooking.” 

“And that is why I am currently in your kitchen, cooking.” He nodded. You sighed. “Ahh, don’t worry.” You heard footsteps crossing the little kitchen, and when you looked up from the table, Mingyu leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of your head. “It’ll be done in five minutes.”

“Alright, then I’ll set the table.” you said, getting up and heading over to your cabinets and grabbing two plates. You poked your head over at Mingyu as he returned to the cooking, smiling. “It smells good.”

Mingyu chuckled, almost shy at the compliment. “Thank you~.” he said. 

Your fried rice wasn’t anything like his, but it was still good, and you popped it in the microwave to reheat. As you rested your hips on the counter, you scanned the empty apartment. It was usually empty, since you were the only one who lived there. But with Mingyu, it felt less empty. Not just because he was a towering gym rat who looked a bit beefier every time you saw him, but because his laugh echoed from the living room to the bedroom when he watched TV while you tried to sleep, or his shriek at the sight of a spider echoed from the balcony and most likely all the way back to HYBE. 

Ready to Love started playing on the TV, and your eyes cast up to see the beginnings of the music video. 

The beep of the microwave reclaimed your attention momentarily as you took out the food, grabbing a utensil and returning to the couch, nestling beside the book you left bent right down the middle as to not lose your place in it. The meal was quiet, minus the music playing on the TV. Most of them have been this past month when it was just you home for dinner. You popped the leftovers into your mouth, pursing your lips together. 

“I have our first music show performance for maestro tomorrow.” Mingyu said, sliding his shoes on. “Why am I nervous?”

“You’re always nervous.” you chuckled, resting on the wall. “But you’ll do fine. I’ll be sure to vote, okay?” Mingyu turned to you and smiled.

“I’ll do my best if I know you’re watching.” He said. You nodded. “I’ll try to come by again soon, okay?” 

“Don’t push yourself…” you said softly, and Mingyu’s smile dropped. Maybe it was because yours did as well, you could feel it in your face. He stepped closer, brushing some hair out of your face. 

“I’ll try to come by again soon, okay?” he asked. “Our schedules are really packed but I will.” 

“I know.” you said. Mingyu smiled, leaning down to offer a quick kiss. “I”ll text you when I get back home, and then go right back to sleep!” he pouted. “I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense that you were up all night gaming!”

“I won’t!”

“Wonwoo lives in my apartment, I will hear him.” he said. You laughed behind a hand, and Mingyu’s grin widened. 

“Okay, okay. Goodnight, Gyu.” you said, watching as he grabbed the last of his things and headed out the door, offering one more glance and smile as he headed out the door. 

His schedule really did pack up after that, from music shows to runways to modeling shoots. Everyone wanted a piece of Kim Mingyu, it seemed. Everyone including you. But you told yourself never to be selfish when it came to his career, it was in his life long before you. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Closing the tupperware, you returned to the kitchen and discarded it. Washing it would be a tomorrow you problem. You felt tired all of a sudden. You pressed your back onto the couch, finally clicking off the TV and really dropping the apartment into silence. Your book fell to the floor, but you left it, eyes cast up to the ceiling. Your felt your chest tighten, knowing tomorrow would be another day that Mingyu would be anywhere except here with you. You tried not to let it hurt, but God you just couldn’t help it. 

“Think of something positive, something good.” You mumbled to yourself in the dim lighting of your apartment. You closed your eyes, rolling through the endless cavern of positive memories. 

“It’s nice out tonight.” you said, leaning over the railing of your balcony and admiring the view. Mingyu had a few consecutive days off, and immediately rushed to spend them with you. You turned to him as he sipped a beer, resting comfortably on one of your outdoor chairs. He looked up at you and smiled. 

“It is.” he said. After a second, he pulled out his phone, reaching up to angle it towards the sky. You stepped out of the way, allowing him uninterrupted access to the sky and stars above. 

“Is this for Instagram?” you asked curiously. Mingyu laughed, his shoulder shaking a bit.

“Maybe.” he said. A few more taps on his phone, and without looking up, he moved his hand in your direction. You watched him motion for you to take a few steps towards him. “I want one of you.”

“What?” you asked. “You can’t post that.” Despite your protest, you were already shifting yourself. 

“I won’t.” he assured. You tilted your head, but Mingyu only grinned. “Smile.” 

“Gyu-.”

“I’ll be in Europe for a while…I want something to look at when I miss you.” 

You felt your heart swell, a smile forming on your face as Mingyu snapped the picture. He turned it around to examine the results, nodding. “Perfect..” 

When you took your next breath, it was shaky. Not the best memory to recall it seemed. They had just gone on their Europe trip, making appearances in both Paris for UNESCO and London for Glastonbury. Both of which were big opportunities, wonderful opportunities that Mingyu talked about endlessly with you when he and the other members found out. However, with rehearsals and travel preparations, your limited time with Mingyu decreased even more. 

And then you had to do it.

“A break?” Mingyu asked. “Wh-why?”

“I just think it’s best.” you said softly. “You have a lot going on and I don’t want to tie you down.” You leaned back in your chair, sighing. “Just while your schedule is full. I want you to focus on that, and when-.” you paused. “If things calm down, then-.”

“When has that ever happened successfully?” Mingyu asked. There was no malice in his words, not even all that much hurt. He just genuinely sounded like he wanted to know when ‘a break’ has worked, as if knowing it has worked will make a difference in if it will this time. 

“Gyu…” you sighed. “I just want you to do your job without anything tying you down…”

Mingyu didn’t put up much of a fight after that, finally agreeing that, for now, his focus should be on his upcoming intense schedules. He slipped on his shoes, turned to you with a smile and kiss goodbye as usual, and left the apartment. Neither of you have spoken since. 

You felt your throat close up, wiping your eyes. Mingyu would be home from that schedule, if he wasn’t already. Usually, he’d fly directly to your apartment and cling to you for hours, maybe even all night. 

“I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Gyu! Tell me everything!!” 

That wouldn’t happen this time. 

Just as you regained yourself, closing your eyes to try and get some sleep, there was a knock at your door. Your head snapped over, breath stilling. A second passed, and there was another knock, followed by a deep familiar voice calling out your name.

“M-mingyu?!” You called, sitting up. You swung your legs over the side of the couch, getting up and padding over to the door. In one swift motion the door was unlocked and flung open, Mingyu standing there out of breath. “What are you doing? Did…did you run here?”

“I had to.” he said. “I… we got back yesterday, I would have come then if I didn’t crash on the couch as soon as I got home and-.”

“Gyu, wait.” You said, reaching out to take his hand. “C-come in…come in…” Mingyu sighed, walking in and closing the door behind him. “You look so out of breath. Do you want water?”

“Ah, yes. Please…” he said. You spun to head into the kitchen, motioning him into the living room as he trudged in, plopping himself down. “Yeesh! I forgot how far your apartment is from me.” A chuckle escaped your lips as you grabbed a water bottle, walking over to the couch and passing it to him. “Thanks…” he cracked it open and took a long sip. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not intending for it to come out as harsh at it did. Mingyu looked up at you, and that was when you saw a plastic bag at his side. Your features softened almost immediately at the familiar convenient store logo. His lips quirked up into a smile.

“It’s only been a few weeks. You know I bring our favorite convenient store meal every time I come back from a long trip.” He leaned over, opening the bag and pulling out chips, ice creams, rice balls, and ramen. You opened your mouth to speak, but Mingyu was already a step ahead. “I know what you said before I left…” he said. “I tried to stay away, or at least call and ask if I could come by. But…it just didn’t feel right to not come here right away.” he looked at you. 

“Oh…” 

He motioned the ramen cups to you. “I won’t stay long. But at least humor me and eat some, hm?”

With only a bit of leftover fried rice in your system, you were weak to refuse. Taking the cups, you returned to the kitchen one final time, Mingyu following behind the store the ice cream for later. 

The kitchen was quiet as the two of you sat at the table, waiting for your ramen cups to cook. Mingyu drummed his finger along the table.

“I saw the photos.” you said quickly. “And the performances. You guys were amazing.”

MIngyu looked almost shocked. “You actually watched them?”

“Of course,” you chuckled. “I told you I would.”

“Yeah, but that was before…” Mingyu trailed off. You sighed, looking down at your hands. 

“I know.” you said. “But I still promised.” Mingyu chuckled a bit. Another long silence, and you sighed. 

“Mingyu, I’m sorry.” you said. His eyes shot up as the words tumbled out of your mouth a bit faster than you had intended, if you had intended at all. But they were out now. “I…was so stupid.” 

“Stupid? No, come on now.” he said. “Don’t say that.”

“No, I was.” you said. “You make every effort to keep me in your life, even when you’re busy and I toss it all away for no reason.” you sighed. “The minute I said that we needed a break I wanted to take it back but I didn’t know if I could at that point.” 

Mingyu was silent for a second, opening his ramen cup. The steam rose and hit his cheeks, and he smiled. Grabbing his chopsticks, he stirred, leaning back in his chair to talk. “I talked to Jeonghan and Shua about it while we were away.” he said. “And I had time to think about it myself, too.”

“Oh?” You frowned. Jeonghan and Joshua were his best friends, not yours. You knew if it was appropriate, they’d side with him in a heartbeat. And it was definitely appropriate. “What did they say?”

“Well.” he took a bite of his food and chewed, processing his thoughts before he said. “They told me that it made sense why you felt that way. And that neither of us are in the wrong, but both of us were stressed with my schedules.” He shrugged. “So, I told myself I’d give you space when I came back.” he smiled. “Wait until my schedules calmed a bit and then go from there.”

“So-.” you motioned to the ramen and snacks in the fridge. “Why didn’t you?” 

He chuckled, a bit of pink on his cheeks as he replied: “I just missed you too much.” 

You felt yoru breath catch in your throat at hose words, inhaling a deep breath. “I missed you too. Even though it’s only been a few weeks.” Mingyu chuckled.

“I know.” he said. “We’ve been apart longer, but for some reason these few weeks felt unbearable.” he set his chopsticks down, licking his lips. “Maybe because I’m usually so used to knowing that you’d be here when I got back.” You chuckled. “I was worried you’d slam the door in my face.”

“Oh, come on, what do you take me for?” you pouted, and Mingyu threw his head back to laugh. 

“I know.” he assured. A deep breath. “I’d…like to try again, though.” he said. “I don’t want to be on a break.” he said. “If you really feel strongly about it…I won’t dare push you.” he shook his head. “But, regardless, I hope that until we figure everything out, I can still come by from time to time.”

“Ah, Gyu…” you sighed, finally reaching out to mix your own ramen. “I want to try again too.” His eyes sparkled a bit from across the table as he took another bite into his mouth. “Like I said, the minute I suggested it…I wanted to take it back. I’m sorry…” 

Mingyu got up, ramen up and all, pulling him chair to your side and sitting beside you. When you looked up, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead. 

“Just don’t let your ramen get cold, and I’ll forgive you.” he teased. “Or at the very least, give it to me.” You chuckled, resting against his shoulder. 

“...So, tell me everything that happened in Europe.” you said, putting a bite of food in your mouth. “I heard your pants ripped.” He groaned. 

“Do  we have to start with that?” he asked, and you covered your mouth to laugh. 

“I got these for you!!” Mingyu outstretched a convenient store bag in your direction. When you looked down, you saw ramen, chips, and ice cream inside. He had just gotten home from the Be the Sun tour the day before, and since you couldn’t meet him at the dorms or the airport, he promised to come to you once he was fully unpacked. “I thought we could snack and I’ll tell you all about the tour!” 

You smiled, reaching out and taking the bag, setting it aside before pulling Mingyu into a tight hug. He immediately returned it, hands squeezing around your waist as he nestled into your hair. “I missed you so much.” he said.

“I missed you too, Gyu.” you said. Pulling back, you looked up at him. “Tell me everything!” 

If you want to make a request you can read any little rules/notes in my request blog

[wttcsms]

balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader   word count 3.9k   synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 author’s notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because he’s benevolent like that — his words, of course). 

But he’s not quite used to being laughed at. 

He’s handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldn’t get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with. 

Being attractive and arrogant isn’t enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesn’t get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but he’s got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasn’t hot, so everyone loves him. 

And you don’t hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you don’t love him, which is fine, because it’s not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him. 

Today’s scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, he’s not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesn’t. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like he’s done something great.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.” You’re still smiling, even though you’re not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments you’re leaving, he assumes it’s Megumi’s work. 

“I was being serious, y’know.” Satoru’s more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when he’s standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles don’t do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesn’t feel bad when you complain that he’s invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldn’t have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesn’t care about. 

“So was I.” You tell him.

Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighbor’s attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that he’s technically everyone’s boss. It is his name that’s displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that he’s built up alongside Suguru. 

“What happened this time?” Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because he’s a nosy bastard. 

“I hate men.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “He left me for someone nice.”

The way you say it lets him — and Utahime, who is actually the person you’re talking to — know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.

Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. “But you are nice.” 

Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but he’s remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.

“No. I’m a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.” 

Ouch. 

Satoru doesn’t see an issue with you, though. So what, you’re hardworking and focused? He thinks it’s kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldn’t have hired you if you were anything less. 

“He’s just insecure.” Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows it’s silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone else’s, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.

“You said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.” Satoru can’t see either of you from this angle, but he’s certain that you’re opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.

“I’ve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.” 

Utahime laughs. “You can’t just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.”

“Not forever.” You clarify. “Just for the time being. All the men I’ve dealt with  in Tokyo suck.”

On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. There’s the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isn’t lost on anyone — an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him. 

“What’s this about men in Tokyo?” Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasn’t been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.

“That all of them suck.” You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes. 

“I’m a man in Tokyo.” He’s grinning.

“Yeah. I stand by what I said.” You’re not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.

His grin only grows wider.

“Maybe all the men you’ve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.” 

“Is this even appropriate for work?” Utahime interjects. 

“If it’ll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.” Satoru says.

“It’s a trap.” You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know you’re going to say something very mean and probably true about him. “He’s already broken protocol with everyone who works there.” 

“You’re very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.” Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that he’s as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because he’s not very good at professionalism himself. 

Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.

“So, whaddya say? Wanna test out your ‘all men in Tokyo suck’ theory with me?” He knows this teasing won’t go anywhere, even if he wants it to. You’re good at your job, and you’re good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesn’t think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional. 

“I would, but I have standards.” 

Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he can’t, because it’s already been established that they’re not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum. 

Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him. 

“C’mon, what’s wrong with me?” 

“Promise I won’t get fired if I’m being honest?” You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldn’t be both endearing and hot to him, but it is. 

“Give me your worst.” He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge. 

“I don’t give anything of myself to a man who can’t even bother to commit to anyone.” 

Of course, you have a point. Satoru’s not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesn’t actually practice the act of dating. 

He doesn’t see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself.  

“I could commit if it’s you.” 

The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit… to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking he’s serious. 

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.”

You’re focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” He tells you. “I bet I could make you believe in love again.” 

“Who said I didn’t believe in love?” You frown at that. “I just don’t believe that the men in this city are capable of it.” 

“Bonus season is upon us.” Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. He’s so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.” 

“I’ll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.”

“Court me?” You’re laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides. 

“If you’re so convinced I’d be horrible and only prove you right, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to make some easy money?” 

He’s trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that he’s razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but he’s always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesn’t like being taken seriously. 

“Like I said, I don’t deal with men with commitment issues.”

There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You don’t shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone he’s ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and it’s probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldn’t take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesn’t want a girl to fall in love with him. 

For as long as you’ve known Gojo, he’s never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesn’t follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships. 

He’s cute and funny and would treat you right, but you can’t deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesn’t give you room to give in to Gojo’s charm.

“Is that really your only stipulation?” He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and you’re being so silly. “I’ll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.” 

You narrow your eyes. “You need to keep your dick wet at all times. I’m pretty sure you die if you don’t get off at least once a day.” 

Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh. 

“True, but I bet you’d be great at keeping me alive.” 

Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.

“So you want me to believe in love, and you’re convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.” You’re entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are. 

“I’ll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.”

“What does that consist of?” He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. There’s nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. He’s built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his family’s fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl he’s ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. There’s nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money can’t handle. 

“No sex. No kissing. No touching.” You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug. 

“Done.” 

He doesn’t even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second. 

“Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.” You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesn’t give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. “You can’t flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely can’t fuck them, either.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” 

“You’re going to regret this.” You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when he’s pent up and unable to get off, you’re certain you’re going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldn’t bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but it’s no fun playing games when someone isn’t ready to fully play to win.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make sure to finish going over all the analysts’ slide decks because I’m taking you out tomorrow night.” 

The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.

Satoru thinks it’s cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like he’s some barbarian who can’t survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, you’re definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick. 

If any girl is worth going celibate for, it’d be you.

Sitting in his office, he can’t concentrate on his work. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think he’s a sex addict, or the men you’ve been with aren’t as great as they appear to be. It’s probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesn’t make him any happier. 

Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojo’s on the building, he kind of does.

“HR is going to have a field day with you,” his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.

“HR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,” is Satoru’s retort. 

“Only you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.”

“Didn’t force her.” Satoru conveniently doesn’t acknowledge the latter half of his statement.

“Didn’t really give her much choice, either.” Suguru smiles. “Shit, even I’d deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m committed to one woman only.” 

“God help her.” And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. “Actually, if He really cared, He wouldn’t have kept leading her to the same places as you.” 

“Maybe I’m her blessing.” 

No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojo’s closed door.

“There’s no way this is legal,” Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. “Gojo needs to be behind bars.”

A bit dramatic, all things considered. It’s not like Gojo’s comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and you’re not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because it’s fun, and you know that Gojo can take it. 

Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. They’re like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted. 

“It is a bit inappropriate,” Nanami comments, and you know he’s right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?

Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesn’t tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.

Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like you’ve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even he’s only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else who’s heard about it. 

You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. It’s a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job. 

“It’s not like I’m on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.” You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesn’t, but the attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Geto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.” Utahime replies. “Geto just has more public decency training.” 

“You’re telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?” 

“No. He’s not as audacious. I like Geto, he’s very cautious.” Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. “He would bet six months, just to be safe.” 

Satoru knows that he’s screwed the moment you’re being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everything’s already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with who’s going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who he’s trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that he’s not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko. 

He likes that he’s already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but he’s watching you as you’re standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.

The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesn’t look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesn’t wash you out. 

The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls he’s dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens — your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years — should be anxiety inducing. 

Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has. 

(Well, Suguru is sick today, that’s why the seat was available.)

Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe it’s just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best. 

He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how you’re not even giving him the time of day. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says you’re going to constantly knock him off-balance and—

—he kinda likes it.

[livwritesstuff]

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter. 

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and  then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

→ Part 1

Masterlist

You're used to crude comments, truly. Living in the Outer Banks has proven nothing other than the fact that kooks will always be cruel, even if it's towards other kooks. As long as you're in a bathing suit, something is going to be said. Which is proven true as you lie on the beach, book in hand, and sunglasses hung low on your nose. It's your only day off and you were going to enjoy it. Soak up the sun as much as you can because summer would fade away before you knew it. You had only chosen the two piece bathing suit to get more of a tan, maybe a little extra sun. It's only twenty pages into your book you hear two boys snickering not far from your own set up.

"Look a beached whale, should we call the authorities?" your ears burn red only slightly, after all you were used to it. Honestly you could care less anymore.

"God, she has to know that's gross" the other responds after his bellowing laughs have calmed down. They truly can't be that stupid they don't realize how loud they're talking right?

"No decent looking, hell self respecting man would ever date a girl like that" this punches the air out of your lungs. You knew your body type wasn’t considered attractive. This was common knowledge, but to hear someone say you couldn’t possibly ever date an attractive man is something else entirely.

“I know I wouldn’t” the boys laugh again, hands clapping together as they stare you down like you were the most disgusting thing on this beach.

You’re not upset about what they were saying. You survived highschool after all. Your school had already been divided by kooks and pogues, add in the big girl and that’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve heard the most vile and mean things a person could say. Somehow you came out of it with still a little self respect, hell even some confidence, because if you were anything at all it was strong. You had dated here and there, never had anything stick though. Maybe that’s why this comment resonated so hard with you. No matter how decent a person you meet maybe you’re bound to end up ugly and alone because an attractive man belongs with an attractive girl.

Rafe has had to attend hundreds of useless business meetings since his Dad died. He had wanted this. When he was nineteen and trying to prove to his Dad that he was worth it, but now he was gone. He had no one to impress anymore and at twenty three he carried the burden of being the CEO of an entire company with his last name on it. So that’s how he finds himself inside of dark clubs at noon, sharing a scotch with guys willing to play dirty to get what they want. He often wonders why he had wanted this life so badly. Everything he had believed in for so long was now gone. His Dad, the treasure, and now even kooks and pogues. Ever since his sister had found that treasue social classes had been practically eliminated or at least weren't acknowledged like they were before. All of this had now left Rafe without a sense of self and he desperatley needed something to change.

"Man, why can't they hire pretty waitresses to look at anymore?" Levi, a coworker slurred as he watched their waitress walk away. Rafe noticed her shoulders stiffen because she had heard what he had said. He hated he felt guilty over it.

"It's a bar, not a strip club" Matt, another coworker teased and Rafe rolled his eyes. Four years ago these guys could've been his best friends, and he would've teased the waitress right along with them. Now things were different, he was different.

"I happen to think she's cute" Rafe told them before finishing the last sip of his scotch. He knew when he got back to the office people would give disapproving looks but he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was like he was just floating and letting the tide drag him along wherever it wanted to.

"Yeah right" Matt snorted out a laugh and Rafe gave him a confused look as Levi started to laugh along with him.

"Seriously Rafe, you’re way out of her league" Levi told him, his shoulder bumping with his own.

"No I'm not and there is no such thing as leagues" Rafe told them with a pointed look but the boys just continued to laugh anyway.

"Yes there is and the only one's in Rafe Cameron's league are tall hot blondes with legs for miles and tan skin smooth enough slide on" Matt said and Rafe felt his stomach clench as they spoke. Had he unintentionaly maintained a type, only taken someone for their looks? Flashes of ex girlfriends went through his mind and he had realized after all this time he had only taken women for surface things.

“That can’t be true” Rafe shook his head and the boys just chuckled.

“Admit dude, you’re an asshole and you like pretty little things. Nothing wrong with that” Levi said as he slapped his back, taking another sip of his own scotch. Rafe however realized there was everything wrong with that. Yeah he’s been a jerk his whole life but had he ever actually dated a girl he liked? Someone with substance?

“Hell would freeze over the day Rafe Cameron dated someone other than a supermodel” Matt pointed with the scotch in his hand and Rafe just shook his head, eyes scanning over the small crowd that littered the bar. For the first time he was seeing people he never would’ve noticed before.

He wondered if this was a side effect of his life before. Privileged kook, popularity, a need to impress everyone around him. Had women become a part of all of that too? A side effect of a need to please, to be the best. Had he been wasting years of actually meeting someone with a personality due to his natural self destructive ways? God he hoped not. Then again he couldn’t recall ever really liking the girls he dated, he usually just tuned them out and used them when he needed to make an appearance with a date. He had never actually dated someone for fun. Worst of all he hated that everyone knew this of him. That he dated for appearance instead of happiness. He wanted to change that.

You could only take so much of the harassment coming from the two boys on the beach, so after three hours you declared you’d had enough sun and started to pack your things. When the cover up slipped over your head you didn’t miss the applause coming from them. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your bag and started the hike up the beach. You needed a drink.

Rafe hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts over the girls he dated. After a very long recollection of every girl he had ever brought around he couldn’t think of one he actually enjoyed spending time with. With this in mind he dismissed Matt and Levi back to the office, claiming he’d find a way back on his own. He needed more time to think about this, and a stiff drink to go along with it. So that’s how he found himself now sitting directly at the bar and not inside the dark booth. The whiskey in his hand suggested he wasn’t making it back to the office anytime soon.

Normally he wouldn’t remove his focus from the drink in his hands but when a bag is slapped on the counter top beside him he finds himself lifting his head. The girl claiming the seat beside him is dressed in stark contrast to his own attire. He’s still in his work suit, tie loosened around his neck, but the girl beside him has clearly just come from the beach. Her hair is wild and wrapped in a bun a top her head. A red bikini strap peaks out the collar of the white coverup. Her breasts had left wet spots slightly see through to the red fabric of her top, like she had left the beach in a rush.

“Hit me with the usual Randy” she calls to the bar keep and Rafe can’t tear his eyes away from her. She’s bigger, sure, but the dip of her hips and small pouted lips have Rafe every bit of intrigued. He can’t help the thought of her being a girl he might’ve never noticed before escape him. He wanted to notice her now.

“Rough day?” Randy smirks at her when he’s back, a tall glass with a dark liquid set in front of her. She takes a sip before responding.

“Every day is a rough day” she mutters and Randy just chuckles before walking off to serve other customers. It’s only when your eyes lock with his own Rafe realizes he has been staring this entire time. “Let me guess, you got something to say just like everyone else today”

“I, what?” Rafe doesn’t expect the coldness from you and how strong willed you are with it too. You aren’t scared of him, he isn’t used to that.

“Listen I’ve had my fill of assholes today so if you don’t have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself” you told him before turning back forward and taking a large gulp from the drink in your hand.

“Got someone bothering you?” Rafe asked finding his cool. He finally got himself to tear his eyes away from you, eyes scanning over the liquor bottles behind the bar. You turn to look at him, eyes drawn together in confusion.

“Not one specific person, everyone for some reason thinks they have the right to comment on my appearance” your words get him to turn back at you. Normally men don’t make you nervous but when you watch him eye you up and down you can’t help the way your heart accelerates.

“I happen to think you look just fine” the scoff that falls from your lips shocks him.

“I’m not looking for your pity, I happened to over hear today that no decent self respecting man would date me so let’s not lie to each other” you tell him and Rafe now feels the air knocked from his lungs. He can’t believe anyone would say that to you. Let alone to your face.

“If it makes you feel better I was told today that I only date woman for surface things” now you were the one drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, looking to the mystery of a man beside you.

“Surface things?” you question the stranger and he chuckles, his rings clinking on his whiskey glass.

“Appearances, apparently I’ve never looked deeper” this has you chuckling right along with him, lifting your own drink to your lips.

“Look at us then, two sides of the same coin. Makes you wonder if there really is anyone out there actually happy with who they ended up with” you say mostly to yourself, knowing this perfect stranger on a normal day would never look your way but you also would never find yourself thinking you had a chance with him.

“I think there is, at least the people who weren’t chewed up and spit out by the world” the optimism is what shocks you the most when he speaks. A hope for something better down in there.

“I wish I was one of those people” you find yourself saying and the boy turns to look at you again, eyes scanning over each of your features.

“Maybe we should prove them wrong” now you’re laughing, looking bewildered towards the boy beside you.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” you ask and he smirks, clearly having some sort of plan.

“We date. I prove to my coworkers that I date someone for more than just their looks and you prove to all those assholes that you can date a guy as good looking as me” he gestures to himself, as if his body is some of God’s best work. You scoff at his clear cheekiness but actually find yourself considering.

“I don’t even know your name” you laugh, trying to remind yourself that this ideal is completely absurd.

“Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you” his hand reaches across the bar, you take notice of how long his fingers are. With the shake of your head you find yourself putting your hand in his own.

“It’s not that simple” you tell him and he just smiles, dimples forming around his pressed together lips.

“Isn’t it though?” he says, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes and you sigh, finally removing your hand from his own.

“Date? As in fake date?” you ask and he nods, his head tipping to the side.

“Exactly, an agreement of sorts. We both benefit from each other, everything to gain and nothing to lose” he tells you like he’s already worked out every way this could end.

“We just met” you inform him and he shrugs, implying this wasn’t an issue.

“I’ve seen people date over less” he tells you and you sigh, holding your hand out to him. He looks are your empty palm confused and you quickly roll your eyes.

“You can’t take me out ion a date without my number dream boy” you tell him and he smirks while grabbing his phone out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. He watched as you meticulously open his contacts and punch in your number. You’ve named your contact ‘baby ❤️’ but he doesn’t get your real name until you type it into other names.

“Y/N? I like that” he smiles at you and you chuckle, clicking on the profile photo to take a selfie.

“We’re already off to a bad start if you want to stop liking people for just their surface things” he likes how quick witted you are and you don’t allow him a response as you lean into his personal space. “Can’t be a real girlfriend if I don’t have a profile picture in your phone”

You smile so easily and he instantly notices how beautiful it is. He’s not looking at the camera anymore but leaning in and taking in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the sunscreen and salty skin. You were like a walking beach and he loved that more than anything. That is how he finds his lips pressing softly against your cheek as the camera shutter clicks on his phone. Your body has chills that you have to brush off quickly as you look at the entirely real looking photo on his screen.

“If I didn’t like what was on the surface you would never be my fake girlfriend” he finally says as he takes his phone back before you could text yourself his number.

“I don’t like how easy this is for you. Are you sure I’m your first fake girlfriend?” you ask and he laughs, eyes falling on your face again.

“The first and the only” and you decide that coming into an agreement like this with a stranger shouldn’t be this simple.

“Then we need to lay some ground rules” this has him raising his eyebrows as you grab a napkin from the bar. He watches as you leaned over, searching for a pen behind the bar. Unashamedly he took the opportunity to inspect your ass, admiring the curve and thanking the see through fabric for revealing the cheeky bikini bottoms that laid over your large curves. He had never openly allowed himself to be attracted to a bigger girl. but now he was briefly wondering what it would be like to be suffocated by one.

“So, what’s these rules?” he smirked at you once you were sat back upright in your seat. He watched as you popped the cap off the pen with your teeth and leaving it in your mouth.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll keep them simple” you tell him, dropping the cap from you lips into the bar. He felt himself flush slightly at the nickname, watching as your neat and loopy handwriting moved across the napkin.

1. Must actively text/call/interact for a week before first “official” date.

2. PDA must be limited

3. Don’t catch feelings, no matter what

4. Attend whatever event your fake significant other asks of you

5. Most of all, don’t tell anyone, ever, that this is fake

“PDA must be limited?” you roll your eyes at the fact this was the only rule he questioned but you sign at the bottom of the napkin anyway.

“I don’t want to waste all of romantic gestures on something that isn’t real” you explain to him and he nods, sliding the napkin in front of him.

“I have a lot of work dinners I would like you to attend” he says as he signs the napkin.

“I’ll try my best” you tell him and now he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“It’s your rule” he points at the napkin, more confused with you than when you first walked in here. “What could you possibly be busy with?”

“Work” you tell him and he still looks confused which you find adorable. Now rule number three only applies to you.

“Every night?” he questions and you chuckle as you return the pen to the other side of the bar.

“Usually, comes with the territory” and you laugh as he continues to try and process what you’re saying.

“What territory?” he asks and you smile, finishing the drink in front of you.

“My bar” and you gesture to the building around you. Rafe suddenly realizes why you know the names of the workers and why they know your usual drink order.

“You own this place?” and you nod, sliding off your seat and grabbing your bag. You also grab the napkin, now signed by you both.

“Don’t forget rule number one handsome” you tell him before heading towards the exit, determined to have a good rest of your day off. Rafe can only watch as you walk away, baffled any of what just happened actually occurred.

“Randy, I’m gonna need a refill”

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

[moonchildcovenxx]

Loser!Ellie Headcanons

a/n: Ellie babyyyy!!! my hand at a done-many-times-before thing, but whatever it’s ellie <3

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie who doesn’t hear you the first time when you ask her out. But instead of asking you what you said… she just says “oh.” because in her mind it’s just oh so embarrassing to ask you to repeat yourself and whatever you said couldn’t be that much pertaining to her. (she doesn’t realize you guys are dating until Jesse asks how her girlfriend is doing and Ellie responds with “She’s my girlfriend?!”)

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie who will mimic every single guitar riff of any song she obsesses over with her voice. Whether it be the one in I Don’t Wanna Be Me in Type O negative or Let It Happen by Tame Impala. God forbid you two are in a long car ride together where she’ll force your legs onto her lap and use one of them as her makeshift electric guitar. “Baby my leg is falling asleep.” You chide lovingly glancing up from your phone to watch as Ellie strums “chords” into your skin. “The song’s just getting good though!” 

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie who still blushes when you compliment her on anything. You make it your mission to fluster her beyond belief. “Your new haircut looks so sexy on you Els.” You smile hand running through her trimmed hair. Ellie had gotten a shorter wolf cut after being sick of tying it back. Ellie swoons, giggling at you softly before resting her cheek in your hand. “Ya think so? I don’t know if I like it or not…” You nod vigorously gaze flicking to Ellie’s honey-bright eyes—which you can now see in all their olive green glory now that she doesn’t have her hair to hide behind. Ellie’s cheeks blaze redder than said hair as you press a kiss to her jaw.

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie who tried to calling you “hey mamas” just to gauge your reaction. She’s definitely thinking she’s being oh so sexy. Loser!Ellie who’s confused when you burst out laughing clutching your sides and slapping your knee. “Ellie never call me that again!” You cackle, watching her pout defeated. Ellie huffs indignantly but nonetheless her lips quirk into a smile. “But—“ she attempts to argue but ends up getting the giggles, slumping on top of your form. She scrunches her nose before a playful glint settles as she smirks. “Does that mean Mommy is off limits too?” Needless to say Ellie found out it very much wasn’t later that night.

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie who can’t cook for shit and is banned from the kitchen except when you’re there. When she wants to help you usually suggest stirring something from a pan, or if you’re feeling risky breaking the eggs needed. Ellie who dances as she cooks, slender hips swaying in time to how fast she’s mixing. You’d watch her in amusement until she notices. “Stop starrringgg.” She whines exaggerated, pulling you behind her and placing your hands on her waist. “Aww my little drama queen.” You’d tease back, but you match the sway of her hips to yours as she continues cooking.

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie who wakes up before you to watch your relaxed sleeping form. You’re just so pretty and she just loves you so much. She’ll frequently have to refrain herself from reaching out and touch you. Your hairs a mess, You may be drooling slightly or even snoring and Ellie will say you’re the most gorgeous girl shes ever seen (and mean it). “Morning Beautiful.” Ellie whispers as you yawn, outstretching your arms to shake away the tiredness. “Ellie I have drool stains on my cheek.” You trail off at the intensity of her gaze. “Morning Beautiful.” Ellie repeats. You smile.

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie who will only fall asleep if shes cuddled into your chest and refuses to sleep separated anymore. She’s already lost so much, and you are someone she refuses to lose. 

𓇢𓆸 Loser!Ellie Whose just as head over heels for you as you are for her.

[beenbaanbuun]

the dollhouse w/ choi jongho

jongho wasn’t quite expecting you to be crying when he came home from work, but there you sit, cross legged on the floor sniffling softly. your back faces him, and you’re too caught up in your emotions to hear him softly close the door. the thud of his shoes against the floor doesn’t seem to grasp your attention, nor does the soft pitter patter of his socked feet against the hardwood floor. it’s not until he reaches your side that you notice him.

your eyes are wet when they meet his, all red and irritated from the constant flow of tears. he’d coo over you if you didn’t look so miserable, but he fears it would only make you cry more. instead he takes a seat by your side. his knee bumps gently against yours as he folds his legs, and his hand comes to rest on your thigh, palm up in a silent offer. with a choked hiccup, you take it. your hand, clammy and warm, slips into his like two puzzle pieces slotting together. he squeezes it softly.

“what’s up?” he hums as he leans against the couch, head tilting so he can keep a close watch over your face. it makes him feel better to see you when you’re like this. you don’t always tell him how you’re feeling, but your face is pretty much an open book. you wear your heart on your sleeve in that respect. “is it anything i can help with?”

you shake your head and draw your lip between your teeth. your cheeks puff out slightly as you gnaw on your skin, and he can’t help but sigh. it’s honestly cruel how adorable you look like this. he cant exactly fawn over you when you’re moments away from breaking down. thank god he’s as mentally strong as he is; anyone else would have snapped by now.

“my mum sent me a photo of my old dollhouse,” you whimper, voice shaky and pathetic. it would just be so easy for him to scoop you up into his lap and dote on you… so, so easy.

“and why’s that made you cry, honey?” he holds himself back, sticking to rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. the moment he knows you’re fine, he’ll snatch you up in his grasp; for now his priority is cheering you up. “is it like… bad memories or something?”

you shake your head before reaching to grab your phone from the table. with your face so puffy and red, the face ID struggles to recognise you and with hands so shaky, you can’t type your passcode in. you let out a frustrated huff before jongho pulls the device from your fingers and unlocks it for you. it opens to a picture of an old dollhouse, all pretty and done up, albeit a little dusty. he passes the phone back to you, unsure of what to make of the image.

“i feel so evil,” you murmur, “i just… shut it one day and then never played with it again. i abandoned it, jongho. how could i just abandon it?”

jongho can’t lie, he’s a little taken aback. he feels as though he wants to laugh at your statement, but you seem genuinely distraught by it. this hunk of wood that you’d put into storage one day because you didn’t have a use for it anymore; you really felt as though you’d abandoned it. he hides his adoring laughter behind a hum, bringing your hand up to his face for a kiss so he won’t be tempted to smile. how he’d managed to find someone so pure, he’ll never know.

“i don’t think you abandoned it, honeybun,” he hums against your hand. he gives it one more kiss for good measure before pulling it away. “would you say i abandoned all my race car toys when i outgrew those?” you nod, and this time he can’t help his laughter. you’re just too sweet. “no, baby. just because we outgrow things, doesn’t mean we abandon them when we have to leave them behind. you outgrew your baby clothes but you didn’t abandon them, did you?”

“i guess not,” you shrug and jongho thinks it’s just as cute as everything else you do.

“and your ex boyfriend; you outgrew him, but you wouldn’t say you’d abandoned him, right?” you shake your head, “good—i think it’d kill me if you did.” this time you laugh. it’s sad, and sounds more like it’s being forced from you than it does natural, but jongho is happy to hear it anyway.

it’s his sign.

he pulls his hand from your sweaty one and uses it to grip onto your waist instead. you squeak as he tugs you, but you don’t resist at all. you let him tug you into his lap like you weigh nothing at all. you let him wrap his arms round your waist and shove his face into your neck. it’s hard to stop the giggles when he’s rubbing his nose against your pulse point, but then he pulls away and kisses it instead.

“my precious baby,” he coos, “so sweet…”

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Black Widow

Pairing: Florence Pugh × Fem!Reader

Summary: Cooking With Flo is back and you make an accidental cameo that get the entire world to know about your relationship with Florence

Disclaimer: English is not my first language

MASTERLIST

Florence took a step away from her phone to make sure it was recording the way it should, her eyes studying the screen as a smile slowly formed on her lips. It took just a second for the comments to start showing up on the screen fast enough that she barely had time to read one before it disappeared to show other ones. She stayed quiet for a few more seconds to allow more people to start watching the live on her Instagram before she actually started talking.

“Sup, bitches? Here we are with another Cooking With Flo,” she said the famous words she always used to start her lives. She opened her arms as if to show the kitchen behind her and let out her raspy laugh. “Did you guys miss me? It's been a while, I know, but I'm back and this time we're making lasagna.”

For the last five months, she had done none of the livestreams cooking in her kitchen mostly because the space was a mess. The room was being renewed and, on top of that, she barely had time to do anything other than work and make sure people were painting the walls with the right color. But now she finally had time again, so that’s how she ended up standing in the middle of her kitchen on a random Saturday night.

“It's very simple, but it was a requested dish for tonight, so that’s what we're doing,” Florence kept talking, leaning back against the counter with her elbows to read some of the comments the fans were making. She saw a few questions, dozens of hearts, and some country flags, but her eyes quickly picked someone asking if there would be any guests tonight. “No, it’s only me cooking tonight, but I'm not alone.” Florence looked around and easily spotted her dog lying down a few feet from where she was standing. She leaned down to snap her fingers at him, which made him get up and walk towards her while wiggling his tail. Chuckling, Florence picked him up with some effort because he certainly wasn’t a small dog. “Billy's here! Come on, Billy, tell people hi.” The only reaction the dog gave was a low bark before he tried to lick her face. Florence moved away the best she could laughing at the same time. “Oh, God, you're getting too heavy for me to lift you, boy,” she complained and then put the dog back on the floor, where he wasted no time walking away to lie down one more time. Florence put her hands on her waist and smiled widely. “Jeez, guys. Well, let me wash my hands and we can get started.”

Florence had just turned around to go to the sink behind her when she heard a scream piercing through the house.

"AAAAAAAAH!"

The chain reaction was instant. Forgetting about anything else, Florence turned on her feet while yelling back: “Holy fuck! Babe?!”

The live kept going on her phone but the people watching could just glance at her wide eyes and surprised expression before she ran from the frame, the phone completely forgotten. They couldn’t see her anymore, but she didn’t wander far away. Just as she was about to get out of the kitchen and run to where she heard the scream coming from, someone came running from the hallway and almost bumped into her, making her stop.

“Florence!” You screamed again, although this time you were already pressed against her.

Florence instantly put her arms around you while her eyes tried to find the reason why you were yelling. She was trying to find a bruise, a cut, or blood of any type, but there was nothing on you that caught her eyes besides the sheer panic clear in your face. “What is it?!” She asked, though she was having a hard time even keeping standing since you were pushing against her as if you were running away from something. “Babe?!”

You managed to slip past her and go further into the kitchen all while using your hands to keep grabbing Florence’s shoulders as if she was the only thing keeping you safe. “Oh, my God! There's a monster inside the bathroom!”

Upon hearing that, Florence couldn’t help but blink in surprise, tilting her head to the side and trying to understand what you meant by that. “A what?”

It was her sudden change in humor that made you look at Florence with even more urgency. She was too calm, she clearly didn’t understand how grave that was. “It almost killed me!”

Your tone had the opposite effect, though. Florence kept looking at you for a few more seconds before her signature breathless smile cut the silence that had formed between you two. Her shoulders dropped, as did her hands to your waist, and she let her head hang for a moment to bask in the relief she felt for realizing there was no imminent danger as she initially thought there was. If it was anything as bad as you were making it sound, you certainly wouldn’t be acting that dramatically.

Finally, she shook her head and looked up at you again with a smile. “I'm pretty sure there's not a monster inside our bathroom. Haven't you watched Scooby Doo?” Florence joked.

It made you whine, however, because you couldn’t believe she couldn’t see the danger you were in. “Florence,” you complained.

Florence must have noticed you were getting mad for her lack of concern because she just chuckled again and approached you to kiss your cheek. “Okay, babe, I'm going to take a look,” she conceded.

Now more relaxed and with a pout, you nodded and let go of Florence’s shoulders so she could walk away from you. “Take care!” You yelled to her retreating form.

Florence kept walking until she reached the bathroom in the hallway. The door was open and the light was still on, but she poked her head inside first. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, so she decided to ask you again, keeping her voice loud and clear for you to hear her from the kitchen. "Again, I don’t think-” Florence interrupted herself out of a sudden when her eyes finally spotted the thing that had disturbed you. “Oh,” she breathed out.

Inside the kitchen, you were biting on the pad of your thumb as you waited for her. “Do you see it? It's right there by the sink!”

Florence smiled to herself while she saw the little spider weaving her web down peacefully as if there was nothing wrong in the world. “Yeah, I see it,” she replied with amusement clear in her voice.

“Take care!” You exclaimed again, but that was what finally caught the attention of the other occupant of the house. Billy, now alert because of the commotion, got up with his ears pointing up and started to go after his owner to see what was going on, but you quickly leaned down to scoop him from the floor. “Oh, my God, Billy, don't go there!”

“Can you bring me a bowl?” Florence asked.

“What for?” You frowned and moved the big dog a bit when your arms started to get tired. Maybe you should start going to the gym, after all.

Florence’s reply came quickly. “So I can take this little guy outside.”

You gasped in shock. “You wanna touch it?!”

The other woman laughed again. “No, that's what the bowl is for!” You rolled your eyes fondly at her teasing. “Come on, babe.”

You bit your bottom lip and looked around. There were several bowls around the counters that she had put there to put the ingredients while she cooked, but there was no way you would go back to that bathroom again when the life-threatening monster was still there. “I can't get any closer than this.”

“That's okay, I will go get it,” Florence soothed your nerves and, a second later, you heard her coming back to the kitchen.

You couldn’t keep Billy on your lap for longer so you put him down gently, only to have him running to meet Florence, who was just entering the room again. Florence was smiling, although she wasn’t making fun of you - at least yet - and she walked towards you to peck your cheek. It seemed like it was just a gesture to try to hide her smile, but you weren’t going to complain about it.

She had just turned to grab one of the bowls when her eyes caught her cell phone on top of the counter and she immediately stopped in her tracks as her heart dropped to the floor. “Oh.”

You jumped away from the counter like it was catching fire. “What?! There's another one here?!”

Florence’s gaze moved to you for a brief moment though she couldn’t stop looking at the millions of comments and emojis appearing on her screen for too long. “Uh, no.”

You followed her eyes and it was your turn to feel the dread inside. In your panicked state, you forgot Florence was doing a live. You hadn’t just interrupted it, you had walked on it. Literally. You could see yourself standing in the middle of the recording, Florence just a few steps to the side looking like a deer caught in headlights as her eyes kept moving from her phone to you.

People didn’t even know you existed and there you were now. People didn’t know Florence Pugh had a girlfriend. People didn’t know she was only making lasagna tonight because you told her that’s what you were craving.

“Shit,” you mumbled. “Oh, shit. I forgot you were going live.” You took a step back and put your hands on your face to hide the deep blush that took over your cheeks. “Oh, no.”

Noticing you were a step away from going on a full-on panic attack, Florence approached you and gently pulled you closer to her body. She tilted her head to the side to give you the perfect spot to hide your face in the crook of her neck and you took full advantage of that. There was no point in trying to hide now that the cat was out of the bag. People had seen you already, they certainly heard Florence calling you “babe” and saw her kissing your cheek.

You silently reached the same decision in the few seconds you stayed in each other’s embrace. When Florence pulled away, she held your face between her hands and offered you a smile that put you at ease instantly. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry, okay?” She winked at you. “I will be right back, let me just take out the monster for you.”

Florence kissed your forehead before grabbing a bowl and walking back to the bathroom. You thought about stepping away from the camera, maybe going back to hide in your shared room as you usually did when Florence was making content when you were around, but you barely had the time to think about where to go before your girlfriend was back in the kitchen.

“I'm back, folks.” she declared to her phone while walking to put the bowl inside the sink since she couldn’t use it anymore. After that, Florence turned back to face the camera and leaned against the counter with both hands, smiling. “It wasn’t a monster, it was just a little spider,” Florence told to the people watching the live.

Standing beside her, all you could do was mumble: “It was a monster.”

Your reaction dragged another laugh from Florence - the laugh that you loved so much, deep and husky, and that made her nose scrunch in that adorable way that always made you want to kiss her. “Thank God you're dating Black Widow herself, huh?” She nudged you with her shoulder, clearly teasing you.

Affected by her smile and her expressive eyes, you easily forgot there were literally millions of people watching you two at that moment. “I don't think that would be a reason to brag considering you would kill me in the end,” you replied, amused. “Besides, I'm not dating Scarlett.”

Her gasp was so loud that even Billy barked from where he was sitting staring up at you two. “Hey, I just saved you from a terrible monster!” Florence complained, although it was obvious she wasn’t serious. “Show me some love.”

You rolled your eyes again, but the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored. “You're right.” You nodded and leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “Thank you, my darling savior.”

Her nose scrunched again and a low chuckle left her lips before she pulled away with a more somber expression. She looked at you as if she was trying to hold a silent conversation and, gladly, you understood what she was asking without saying a word. You only nodded and braced yourself for what was about to come.

Florence returned her attention to her phone and her smile became a more practical one. “Well, I think you guys are a little confused. That's not how I planned for you guys to find out, but that's okay. We're just going to recalculate,” she chuckled politely. “In case you hadn’t realized it since this shenanigans started, this is my girlfriend.” Florence placed her arm around your waist, pulling you closer and smiling contently with her eyes glued on you. It seemed like you couldn’t look away from each other for a while, but she eventually returned her attention to the several comments popping on her screen. “Yes, I kept it a secret until now. And yes, I was intending to keep it under the rug for a while longer, but mostly because I did not want you scaring her away,” she joked since you both knew the reason why your relationship was a secret was because you were both trying to protect your privacy and your love from prying eyes. “She was the one that said she was feeling like eating lasagna tonight, actually,” Florence added.

You nodded, feeling more relaxed to be standing there now. “She got her grandma's recipe, I couldn't resist.”

“Since the cat is out of the bag…” She read a few comments, deciding to answer them as she went. “We've been dating for a while, yes. This is our kitchen, actually.” Florence pointed to something behind her. “Well, it’s still coming together. We still want to make some changes,” she relented since you both know none of you were satisfied with the place the fridge was placed. “Uh, she’s not an actress, if that’s what you want to know, another reason why we didn't say anything about us.” Florence kept from telling her fans what you actually do with your life, trying to maintain any sense of privacy still. “Yes, she knows my family. Guys, I will answer two more questions before we move on. Now that I saved her life and our bathroom, I believe Y/N wanted to take a shower before dinner,” she joked.

You laughed and agreed with several nods, also licking your lips to add to the dramatization. Your attention ended up going to one of the comments that showed up and you decided to answer it. “Billy ran to me at the dog park, that’s how we met,” you explained shyly.

Florence seemed happy that you spoke up, though, and she proved that by leaning closer to kiss your cheek for the third time. She then moved on to pick the last comment she was going to reply to. “No, she’s not going to feature in the next Cooking With Flo unless she wants to. Or unless there’s another teeny tiny spider forcing her to run to me.” She poked your side at the exact spot that she knew would get you squirming away and that’s what happened, of course.

“It wasn’t small,” you argued as your body moved away from her. “I'll go so you can keep filming.” You turned around to leave, but changed your mind last minute, choosing to say: “I'm sorry to crash in.”

“Don't need to apologize, babe,” Florence assured you firmly and, before you knew what was going on, she pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I love you, okay?” She whispered against your lips, making sure no one else could hear it.

“I love you more,” you replied gladly in the same tone before walking away. “See you once you get my food ready!”

Florence laughed while she watched you disappear from her sight and then looked back at her phone to clap her hands once and say: “Well, so let's get started!”

[hsnlv]

right on to you | s.jy

a/n: ive been listening to glue song by beabadoobee a lot lately!! pls listen to it while reading this fic for extra cuteness and fluff hehe!!

(cut to story)

it was a quiet sunday afternoon when you found yourself curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap, and a book in hand. the world outside was moving at its usual pace, but inside, it was just the two of you.

jake was beside you, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded as he scrolled through his phone. the familiar warmth of his presence filled the space between you, comforting and constant. it felt like everything was in its right place.

“are you really reading?” jake teased, glancing over at you with a playful grin. “or are you pretending to read again?”

you rolled your eyes, barely glancing up from your book. “i’m reading, thank you very much,” you said, trying to keep a straight face, but failing miserably when you saw his mischievous smile.

he chuckled softly, the sound making you smile in return. you’d known jake for a long time now—long enough to know that he wasn’t just the type to settle for surface-level connections. he’d always wanted something deeper, something real, and somehow, the two of you had found that with each other.

there was a comfortable silence that settled between you two, with the occasional soft rustling of pages or the tap of jake’s fingers on his phone. but soon enough, something strange started to happen. you weren’t paying attention to your book anymore. you couldn’t tear your eyes away from jake, and it wasn’t like you were consciously doing it—it was more like you were magnetized to him.

you watched the way his eyebrows furrowed when he read something on his phone, his lips pouting ever so slightly as if deep in thought. you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked when he concentrated. his messy hair fell just over his eyes, and you found yourself wishing you could brush it back for him.

as your gaze lingered on him, you felt your heart do that little fluttering thing it always did when he was near. it was almost too much to handle, but you couldn’t pull yourself away. he was just so… jake. and everything about him made you feel like you were the luckiest person in the world.

just as you were caught in the trance of staring at him, jake looked up, his gaze immediately meeting yours. he blinked, clearly surprised to find you staring at him so intently, but a playful grin spread across his face. “you’re staring,” he said, his voice filled with amusement, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark.

your eyes widened, and a sudden wave of embarrassment flooded your chest. “i wasn’t staring!” you quickly protested, but the words came out too fast and a little too high-pitched. you tried to play it cool by shifting your eyes back to your book, but the damage was already done.

jake’s grin only grew wider as he sat up a little, turning his body toward you. “oh really?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “because it sure looked like you were staring at me. i don’t mind, though. you look cute when you do that.”

your face turned a bright shade of red, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously, avoiding his gaze. “i—uh, i wasn’t staring! i just—” you stammered, but jake leaned in a little closer, clearly enjoying the flustered state he had put you in.

“mm-hmm, sure,” he said, his voice so soft now, almost teasing in the most endearing way. “you know, if you’re gonna stare, you should at least make it obvious.” he paused, his grin softening as he let his gaze linger on you. “i don’t mind at all.”

you looked up at him, and the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, embarrassed, but also feeling strangely happy. jake always had a way of making you feel like everything was okay—even when you felt like you were making a fool of yourself. and maybe that was part of why you loved him so much.

“you’re so annoying,” you teased, though your voice was playful and affectionate. you gave him a little shove, but it didn’t have any force behind it. he just laughed, his eyes lighting up with that spark that made everything around you feel brighter.

“you love it,” he said, grinning like a kid who knew he had won.

“maybe i do,” you admitted with a grin of your own. “but you’re still annoying.”

he laughed, the sound ringing through the room like music. then, without warning, he reached over and gently tugged you closer, resting his chin on top of your head. “it’s okay, i can be annoying if it means i get to be close to you.”

your heart melted at the sweetness in his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. you felt his hand slip from your shoulder down to your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he pulled you even closer, not letting go.

“jake…” you murmured softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “you’re such a dork.”

“i know,” he said, grinning cheekily. but then, his expression softened, and he leaned down slowly, his face just inches from yours. you could feel his breath against your lips as he whispered, “but i’m your dork.”

your breath hitched in your throat, and before you could respond, jake closed the distance between you, pressing his lips gently against yours. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant even, but it quickly grew deeper as he pulled you in closer, his arms wrapping around you like you were his safe place. you could feel his heart beating against your chest, and you couldn’t help but giggle into the kiss, a burst of happiness bubbling up from deep inside you.

“you’re so silly,” you whispered between kisses, laughing lightly.

“you love it,” he said with a grin, kissing you again, more confidently this time.

and before you knew it, you were both lost in a fit of sweet giggles and soft kisses, tangled in each other’s arms, the world around you disappearing as you shared this perfect, and impossibly sweet moment.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 9

WC: 1431, Masterpost CW: blood, cannon typical violence, off screen civilian and first responder deaths, mentions of death

Danny and his Flash were both very busy people, there was no denying that. The good thing was that the worst of their busyness were the same events. Sure, they both had obligations outside of that. Danny had all of the other work with the outreach and now overseeing and even training other team members. Flash… well, Flash had whatever he did with the rest of his life. Danny assumed he worked, even if it was for the Justice League.

It was a little odd not knowing Flash past the mask. Danny understood, of course he did. A secret identity was important and, despite having been on several dates now, they still were getting to know each other. It wasn’t as if Danny didn’t know anything about his Flash. He knew Flash always comforted the kids first, was fiercely loyal, and couldn’t resist petting a dog. He knew Flash loved trying new foods, played video games with friends that Flash wished he saw more, and really did enjoy spoiling him. He knew a lot.

He just didn’t know Flash’s name or what family Flash had or if those freckles ran all the way across Flash’s nose.

Danny would be patient though, because he understood. It helped that he at least had Flash’s number. He didn’t know if it was a burner phone or an app or routed through a number of proxies; he hadn’t asked. The first thing Danny had done, in fact, was to send a Flash meme. It had gotten him shoved, but that had turned into a make out session on the couch, so Danny certainly wasn’t complaining.

And if Danny now kept a collection of gifs, memes, and other silly Flash things on hand to send? Well, who could blame him.

He rolled over to grab his phone from the coffee table and sent off another picture of a cat dressed up in Flash’s outfit. The amount of people dressing pets up as superheros was honestly shocking. He didn’t expect an answer right then, looking at the time, but he found it was… nice to be able to find things to send to Flash for him to find and respond to later. It made him feel connected to someone in a way that he hadn’t had in years.

Danny recognized, now, that he had been really hurting himself trying to stay so separate from everyone. One way or another, this is how things would be for the rest of his life. He couldn’t keep morning what had happened, what he had lost. Besides, he was just a civilian now, he wasn’t a danger to his friends and family anymore. So, along with Flash, Danny had started actually accepting the occasional invitation from some of his coworkers. He had even found a game store to go to and play at on the weekends.

It was harder than he thought, putting himself out there again, but his life was brighter for being around people outside of work every week or so. He had Flash to thank for that.

He also had Flash to thank for getting him addicted to the Percy Jackson books. He could personally do with less lightning, but the story had a real way of resonating with the halfa. Danny was three books in at this point and needed to know how it all finished up.

A few chapters further in a notification interrupted him.

Quick Boy: It’s not fair that a cat wears my uniform better than me!!

Danny laughed and tapped the message.

Danny: The cat is pretty cute. But I still think you wear it best. You have a better butt. 😏

The little dots wiggled as Flash typed. It was endlessly amusing to Danny that despite being, literally, super fast, Flash was slowed down by the physics of the world around him, like how fast a phone could accept input.

Quick Boy: 😳🫣🥵 Danny! Have you been checking out my butt?

Despite himself, Danny felt a blush heating up his cheeks. They hadn’t gotten any further than kissing, it didn’t feel right to go further when Danny didn’t know who Flash was, but that didn't mean Danny couldn't tease.

Danny: You run around in spandex, I can’t NOT check out your butt. Have to say, it’s a pretty good one. 10/10, would ogle again.

Quick Boy: How do you feel about ogling it in my most flattering sweatpants? Got a hold of that Japanese giant bug movie you were ranting about. I can grab food and be over to your place in about an hour?

Danny: Stop calling it that!!!You know the title! 😤

Quick Boy: I’m not typing out that title.

Danny grinned as he rolled off of the couch. If Flash was coming over, he should at least pick up a little. Danny knew Flash didn’t really care, but the pile of laundry that Danny had been avoiding folding was a bit much.

Danny: Thought you were supposed to be fast.

Quick Boy: 😒

Danny: Come on, quick boy, take the nanosecond and type it.

Quick Boy: I hate you.

Danny: No you don't~

(Danny sung along as he typed.)

Quick Boy: “Help I’ve Been Made a Holy Knight in a World of Giant Bugs and Need to Save the Prince”

Danny: Knew you could do it! Proud of you. 😘 See you in an hour! Bring Thai and ice cream!

Danny was just putting away the folded stack of laundry when an alarm on his phone screamed at him.

It was work.

Emergency alert.

All hands on deck.

Danny dashed for his door, shoving his feet in his work boots and grabbing the backup vest he kept at home. Someone would drive the trucks full of kits there, but Danny still took his little kit with him, just in case he ran into any wounded on the way.

So much for dinner and cuddling his boyfriend.

As soon as he stepped out onto the street, Danny could hear the sound of sirens and the acrid smell of smoke stung his eyes. Danny’s heart sank.

Whatever this was, it was big.

-

“Danny.”

Danny flexed his hands. Flakes of dried blood broke off and scattered in the wind.

“Danny, babe.”

He would need more gloves for his kit. Was he out? He had to be out. He changed gloves so many times. There were so many people. He had to be out of gloves. He would need more for his kit.

Other hands entered his vision, covered in bright red. Not blood red, bright red. Blood red was mostly darker than people thought. Bright blood was worse. He watched as the hands gently rolled down the gloves.

He needed more gloves.

“Not for today, babe. You’re done for today.”

He needed more gloves, there were so many people.

“Everyone is accounted for. You and the others got everyone.”

Not everyone.

How many people died under his hands today?

Were already dead when he found them?

Wouldn’t last the night?

How many people did he fail?

Too many.

“Danny.” The voice was worried now. “Come on babe, look at me, please?”

Blood had gotten under his gloves, staining his wrists.

“Babe, please.”

Warm, fabric covered hands rested on Danny’s cheeks, tilting his gaze up and away from his hands.

Oh. “Flash?”

“Hey there, babe, you with me?”

Why did he look so worried?

“Because you’re scaring me a little. I think you’re in shock.”

Oh.

“Do you have a shock blanket in your kit still?”

“No… used them all. Had to cover…”

How many people did he fail?

“Okay, that’s okay. I’m going to take you home, okay babe? Well, not my home, but where I used to live— right, that doesn’t matter now. We’re going to go and I’ll keep you safe.”

Danny motioned to a cluster of officials. “I have to—”

“I’ve already checked you out.”

“My team?”

Flash glanced down and away.

“Flash, my team?”

“They’re…. all accounted for. Larson…. He got caught in part of the building coming down. He didn’t make it. Patel was paired with him. She’s at the hospital, they think she’ll pull through.”

Danny tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to scream, to rage, to wail— it all caught up in his throat because he couldn’t. He let out a soundless sob.

Flash pulled Danny into his arms, holding him close. “I know. I know. I’m taking you home. You’ll be okay Danny. It will be okay.”

The colors of the world blurred together as Flash ran, but Danny hardly noticed.

-----

AN: So this has been 95% written since before I got sick, but just now was the first time I could get my brain to deal with it. A darker part of the story, I know, but it felt needed. Danny's doing a very, very hard job and one made all the worse because Danny used to be able to do more and now he can't. (Though I have no doubt he pushed use of his powers further than was really safe in this.)

Stay safe and delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people for several reasons, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead to be notified! (May notify this part slightly later, I am queuing it.)

[lueurjun]

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽

⋮ — 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒! 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗑 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾: 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒.

note from lueurjun—i decided to take the other one down because i made a mistake. hopefully this one is better for you my love! — kinda long very sorry about that i got carried away

let’s start by saying jake is as terrified of you as he is smitten by you

he’s got this massive crush on you that started when you lent him a pencil in chemistry

the moment you passed it to him with fluttered lashes and a soft smile

BRO WAS GONE. DONE. DEAD.

you were singlehandedly the most attractive being he had ever had the pleasure of setting eyes on

and so from there he harboured a crush on you

but would admire you from afar because how the hell was he supposed to talk to you?

you were the most popular person on campus with friends in every class and admirers lurking around every corner

and he was just… jake

unbeknownst to him, you shared the exact same feelings

but thought he was unapproachable because he was always in a hurry to get to his next class and whilst he was friendly, he just didn’t seem like the type to entertain a crush

so you ignored each other

my favourite little dumb dumbs<3

at least you have one thing in common: you’re both terribly oblivious

it isn’t until you need help with chemistry

and your friend sunghoon (who is also jake’s friend) recommends him

wingman sunghoon because he can’t listen to jake cry about the way the sunlight kisses your skin in all the right places

and if he has to watch you drool over the back of jake’s head one more time he’s going to have to bash his head against a wall

SUNGHOON CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

he’s weirdly desperate for you to ask jake so, you bite down on your nerves and you approach him

poor jake almost chokes on his own tongue

‘hey jake, i’m y/n. we have chemistry’

‘w-you think so?’

‘what?’

‘what?’

cue sunghoon slamming a book against his head whilst watching the interaction from down the hall whilst jay covers his face in pure disbelief

however all three of them (including jake) are shocked that you didn’t walk away and ask someone else but actually… laughed?

and then called him cute? jake almost fainted on the spot

thankfully he recovers and agrees to help you out

sunghoon is a sneaky man so before you leave for the library, he slides a post it note into your chemistry notes when you aren’t looking

it reads: ‘will you go on a date with me?’

and jake sees it the moment you open the book

you’re mortified but you don’t scrunch up the post it?

instead, you muster up all of the confidence and look at jake for an answer

boy falls off his chair

no like seriously he falls out of his seat in pure shock

‘jake are you okay?’

‘just peachy please leave me here. this is embarrassing and i don’t want to get up’

when he finally does get up he’s very quick to accept the date

you both leave the library that day with blushy faces and new progress in your relationship

from then on sunghoon makes it his life’s work to remind you both that he’s the reason for your relationship

it’s been eight months and he still brings it up

‘put some respect on the matchmakers name. if it wasn’t for me the two of you would be knee deep in platonic town’

he’s not wrong though

boyfriend jake is still terrified of you

purely because you are just so loved by everyone and it’s quite daunting because it’s like you’re some kind of angel

he’s the best boyfriend though

if you do some kind of sport, he’s always there to cheer you on

and he’s the loudest in the stands

i can actually see jake being on a debate team for some reason and you think it’s the hottest thing ever

it gets you all hot and bothered sometimes

you drag sunghoon with you and he’s always just like ‘seriously? this is what you’re into?? are you okay??’

but you’re not even listening to him, far too focused on jake with a pink tint to your cheeks

jake gives off major golden retriever energy

always has this puppy dog look whenever he’s talking to you and sometimes you can’t stop yourself from caressing his cheeks and planting the biggest kiss on his lips

which always makes him blush

everyone on campus still can’t believe the two of you are dating

it was such a weird dynamic at first but slowly people started to really ship it

you with your halo above your head saying hi to everyone you see whilst your golden retriever boyfriend follows after you with major heart eyes

the cutest little couple i love you both pls invite me to your wedding

jake definitely purchased matching rings but was scared to give you yours in case you thought he was weird

you found it in his pocket of the hoodie he lent you and you absolutely fell in love

it becomes your personality and you show it to everyone with no shame

‘check it. my boyfriend bought us matching rings isn’t he perfect?’

‘you’ve shown me eight times. if i see it one more time i’m yanking it off your finger’

^ jay might be a little bitter that jake got a partner before him

you slip little love notes and hearts into his chemistry books and he saves them in a little box and reads them when he’s sad

cuddles galore. this man is the affection monster

not that you’re complaining but sometimes your bladder is too full to have a huge puppy weighing you down refusing to let go

‘jake-i need to pee!’

‘no’

he always helps you with your homework which is a huge bonus

and you help him let loose and relax

you balance each other out and are exactly what each other needs

his parents adore you

‘marry them. marry them now’

jake smirks and turns to you ‘well you heard them! parents orders, have to marry you!’

kissing his cheek when he’s stressed out about school work and suddenly all faith is restored

your lips are like caffeine to him

and honestly, he’s addicted

‘have i ever told you how much i love you?’

‘hm. once or twice but i don’t mind hearing it again’

my favourite little dummies in love<3

[strangelysamantha]

closing shifts ❀

steve harrington x fem!reader.

warnings: super cute fluff!

words: 1,026.

summary: scoops ahoy after hours, i guess closing shifts at work aren’t half bad when you have steve to entertain you!

request? no

a/n: i’m so madly in love with steve harrington. i’m so excited to start writing for other characters now:)

my masterlist

—————————————————————————

“the mall is closing soon, which tasks do you want to do tonight?” you question steve. he rolls his eyes, “we’re here everyday, can’t we just for once, not do our job?” he laughs but continues, “not like anyone will notice…” you cross your arms together, “steve… someone will notice. and unlike you, i don’t have daddy’s money so i need this job.” he scoffs, “had, don’t forget, HAD daddy’s money. i don’t have that luxury anymore.” you hide your smile, “exactly my point so you need this job just as much, thanks for doing the work for me!” you run off to the back, grabbing the sanitizing spray; preparing to clean the counters. you grab the broom for steve as well.

“here how about you sweep, that’s easy enough for you, right?” you egg him on just to get a reaction. “yes, i guess ill sweep.” you pretend to aim the spray bottle at his face, “watcha going to do harrington?” you laugh as he throws his hands up, completely dropping the broom to the floor in the process. “please! please! don’t spray!” you lower the spray, “hey at least your hat is covering your hair so it won’t get ruined!” he sighed in relief, “never been so thankful for this damn scoops ahoy hat in my life.” you stop being distracted and walk over to the register. steve bends over to pick up the broom to continue sweeping. after he swept, he grabbed the mop, while you counted the register down. “do you want any ice cream before we go stevie?” you yell out to him. he follows your voice to find you, “no i’m ice creamed out. thanks though.” you nod in agreement, “me too. maybe we should get a job somewhere else, take advantage of their free food policy.” he laughed, “as if it’s not embarrassing enough to work here, it would be worse if we worked somewhere else, people would think we got fired or something.” you heart jumps at the idea of him actually wanting to follow you to a different job. your crush on steve was hard to hide, but in order to be “professional” at work, you had to keep it under wraps. besides, steve would only see you as a friend. he’s made it very clear with his desperate attempts of flirting with the costumers, that he had a specific type in mind.

you put everything else away, and meet up with steve. you verify that everything is done, and you both clock out. “let’s get outta here.” you say excitedly, practically running to the gate. he laughs and follows after you hurriedly. “i’m so glad it’s over.” you close it, and lock everything up. this was your favorite time of the night. since it was so late and dark out, steve made sure to walk you to your car for safety. “what was your favorite part about today?” you ask him. “i think it was funny when that guy paid for his ice cream, turned around, and immediately ran into someone.”

“that guy was so mad he lost his ice cream, while the other girl was so mad she had her new shirt ruined. talk about a loose loose!” he’s amused by your comment, “what are your plans tonight?” he asks you. you shrug, “i’m not sure yet. i wanted to hang out with my friend but he cancelled.” you frown, but it wasn’t surprising. steve stopped dead in his tracks, “he!” you glance over at him shocked, “what?” he repeats himself, “who is he!” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that steve, trust me. he is just an old pal from my last job. we had a class together in high school, but that was about it. we were supposed to hang out tonight but he had something pop up.” he nods listening, “well, do you think you have a crush on him?” you did not want to be having this conversation, let alone it being with steve the hair harrington, the last thing he needs to know is who you have a crush on.

“steve, he is dating someone already. i don’t have a crush on him, he’s just cool to talk to sometimes. plus after graduation it’s been hard to keep a lot of friends, people grow and move on.” you keep walking, hoping to make it to your car soon. steve continues questioning you. “i see, well then who do you have a crush on? there’s got to be someone, right?” you turn over to see his face, you couldn’t quite tell what he was wanting. “i mean yeah, i have a crush, but steve, just because you like someone doesn’t mean you have a chance with them.” steve frowns, “well when you think that way, then you definitely won’t ever know if you can get your crush or not! you have to be more optimistic!”

“have a goodnight stevie.” you unlock your car and open the door, he comes around your car, standing outside the driver door. “i’ll get it out of you one of these days, i’m going to be your ultimate wingman.” you roll your eyes, “i don’t need you as a wingman, i can get anyone if i really wanted too.” you start your car, waiting to see how he responds. “is that a challenge?” he asks, his determination is admirable, but at the most it’s intolerable. “steve, if i say yes, will you let me go home?” you chuckle. he grins, “yes!” you shake your head, “fine it’s a challenge. we’ll talk more about it tomorrow alright? i gotta get some sleep.” he lightly taps your car, “perfect, that works, i’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” he says goodbye before heading to his car, hopping in, and driving off.

you heart burns. you want to prove to steve that you can get any guy you want, but at the same time, you don’t want just any guy, you just want him. you head home, no other plans for you to attend, you get ready for bed. getting prepared for your shift with steve tomorrow.

[anaconamor]

limit - jude bellingham series.

quick sum: shy and innocent uni student by day but a notorious street racer at night, meets now currently best footballer jude bellingham under certain circumstances. what happens when these two are forced to get along, in order for them to get out of trouble? will they sacrifice their careers in order to protect themselves?

wc: 4.7k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: hello! this is a request mixed with an idea i had. this is a small five-part series since I didn’t want to do a large fic. i really hope you enjoy since it’s a enemies to lovers, ‘she fell but he fell harder’, car girl! reader, and jude being somewhat cocky and mean but a huge teddy bear. pls note that i don’t condone any street racing or hectic driving! this series will have mature content so minors DNI 🔞. it will also contain other issues dealing with family domestic issues, mentions of being insecure, etc, but I'll place the warning then :) please enjoy chapter one, and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

“Now class I hate to stress this enough but you have to take exquisite and thorough notes. It will not only guide you but help and take you to the correct path for this course,” said Professor Alto. I felt like rolling my eyes and walking out of the lecture room, but instead, I just turned over and laughed with Marie, who was already staring at me. “He says that every class period, I'm starting to get annoyed because we’ve been taking this class for the past month,” Marie snickers.

“True but in all honesty he does have a point,” I raise my eyebrow and look back at the Professor who was now walking back and forth presenting the slides. “Shut up. We get it you’re smart,” Marie groans and pushes my shoulder, taking out some gum and then paying attention forward. “I'm sorry, I would like to run my own business one day, and this is where I have to start first.” This time I push her shoulder, and hear her mutter a ‘Yeah yeah whatever…’

I grabbed my bag and pulled out my notebook, took different coloured pens, and began to write down the slides, using other different coloured pens to write important texts and or highlights. It’s just girly things. We would be here for a while, as this lecture would take up to three hours, so I got comfortable. “What are you wearing tonight?” Marie whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder as she typed away.

“Probably something black,” I shrugged, “I might wear this new corset top and black jeans since I'm racing tonight.” Marie looked over at me with wide eyes, “But isn't your car still in the shop?”

“No, it got fully fixed two days ago, and tonight I wanna see if the new adjustments are working properly,” I say, taking a sip of water and rubbing my eyes as they feel dry. “Y/n are you sure that’s a good idea though? You just got your car back, and knowing how you race, especially after just getting it back can be dangerous. If something happens, all that work that was done would go to waste,” Marie stresses, and I notice that because she began to talk with her hands.

“I know the risks, trust me. But I need this money for me, my mom, and my little sister. I'm working two double shifts and if I win tonight, I'm set for the next two months. It won’t be an easy race, but at this point what more can I do?” I sigh and rub my temple, a small migraine wanting to form.

It wasn't easy anymore. It became harder when we had to move out of my dad’s place as he began to become a different and mad person. It wasn’t the environment I wanted to be involved in, let alone my mother and sister. It became especially harder when he came and did mass destruction on our property, and tried to hurt us. The night repeatedly lives in my head, the screams, the yelling, the smashing windows, the red and blue lights, it's hard to sleep as any time I close my eyes I just see him.

I always had a great relationship with him. We were close and happy. I grew up wanting to be him, and he always set examples and tried for us. He would do my hair, teach me how to cook his chocolate chip cookies, and even go on to show me how to play the piano. We spent every weekend working in his mechanic shop, working on dear old Darla for one day to be driven by me. The old black Ford was now ruined into pieces when he went crazy after discovering he would be arrested.

What changed in him to become that way, was the question I kept repeating over and over again. If the truth comes out one day, maybe we can be at peace. But for now, it's being cautious and assuring the safety of my family. I sacrificed a lot to be able to support us, as well as my mom. The car racing was something I randomly got into, my mom didn't like it, but in a way for me, I escaped reality.

The adrenaline rush. The speed. The rush overtakes my body. The determination to win as the prize in the end holds a lot of possession. Maybe even the idea of it being illegal also took a more motive of why not, as bad as it sounded. I became a hell of a driver, I was the best of the best, and some people took that personally.

The tracks and races became a second home to me. The ability to conduct and take charge of my own was truly an honour. For once, only I listened to myself instead of others. For once I could do something that made me happy, as much as it felt wrong to do. I met people, good and bad, and stayed away from the bad as they reminded me of my dad. A weekend like tonight started at the tracks but indeed by the city in the underground club Sahara.

I saved enough to buy myself a 2014 black Dodge Challenger. Slowly I made work by changing the motor from a V6 to a V8, running to almost 470 horsepower. The rims were also replaced with all black, and I added other features like a loud exhaust and a cold air intake system, just recently. This would’ve never been done if I didn't have Jimmy, an old friend of my dad’s. He never questioned what I did to my car, just wished me ‘good luck, and be careful’.

When my mom found out about my car, she threatened to kick me out. That same night I brought back $1,800 and left them on the table, muttering a quick “This is why I do what I do”. Since then she hasn’t questioned, just used the money for savings, groceries, and bills. I would of course help out, especially on bigger and expensive things, like Uni. Uni was expensive, and I sure as heck was lucky to afford what I could.

My first race was over a year ago, in the older tracks leaving Madrid. It was a secluded area only known to nearby residents, or people like me who raced, or those who went to live life a little. You could expect anyone there. I knew of this place after Marie and her girlfriend Kaia took me. My first race was that same night after a girl got pissed at me for accidentally bumping her shoulder with her boyfriend.

One thing led to another, and then you saw me at the finish line in Marie’s Grey Nissan Altima. That baby could run, period.

Part of me could say I also got addicted to how much money it would bring home. I didn't care if it was clean or dirty money, it met my needs, and I was grateful for it. Multiple people have gone against me but they can’t race like I can. There are tips and tricks to it, whether it is releasing the clutch early or letting the car struggle a bit before making the shift. Slow down or maybe speed up. You learn along the way.

My biggest rivals of them all were Jacey and Jacqueline. They made my life a living hell a week before finals. They insisted and threatened me to race them or else I would be kicked out and can’t ever place my foot on the tracks. They were the best anyone had seen, but I knew what they wanted. They were a part of a malicious gang in the northern part of Spain. If I won, I would be free and they were to never bother me, but if I lost I would do laundering and drug exchange.

I won that night, by some miracle. It turned out Jacey was racing unfairly and it didn't count as he had cheated. They would always go against me, and it became sort of a rival race whenever we did go against each other. Like tonight. Tonight would be a big night, it would be a packed race, and surely every young adult would be there.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re going against Jacqueline tonight? How could you have failed to tell me this?” Marie ran, her back across the wall as I got myself a redbull to survive the rest of the day. We had a 20-minute break, and now we were seated outside waiting to go back in.

“I didn’t know either, Max texted me this just a couple of hours ago,” I said, taking a sip of the energy drink. I pulled out my phone and showed her the message. “Well, I can see why you’re doing this then,” Marie points to the text of the amount of cash I could win. “What did you end up fixing in your car?”

“I did a bit of mostly everything. I added high-flow catalytic converters, high-flow mid pipes, high-flow fuel injectors, high-flow air induction systems, an upgraded header, and upgraded pulleys. Just newer stuff that the new challengers have nowadays,” I say, laughing at Marie's confused face staring back at me. “Well whatever you said, let’s hope it works out.”

“Trust me it will. Because you’ll be in the seat next to me to see” I smirked.

“Bitch no I am not, the fuck?” Marie gives me a puzzled look. I give her a look for using such profanity. I hated it, I didn't like such strong and hateful words, especially those that meant hurting someone's feelings. I never cursed, I just didn't see the fun or thrill of it, which shocked many.

“You are because you lost the bet last week. And Sheila is out of town. So better bring your mask and helmet,” I say, opening my iPad to get some studying done before my business class after this lecture. “Plus when have you ever turned down the opportunity to ride with me? I know you secretly love it,” I wink at her to which he just shakes her head and smirks.

“I'll do it, but only if you wear the black midi skirt I got you. As a matter of fact, I’ll ride with you only if you let me get you ready and get you sexy,” Marie says. I blush profusely and immediately shake my head no. I would rather die than be seen wearing anything more revealing than my boobs. I'm just too shy and not confident for it. I can’t rock outfits like Marie can.

“Funny but no. You know me, I am good with a revealing top and maybe some tight jeans,” I brushed her idea once again, but knowing how she could be, especially when she's a fashion major, it would be hard. “Either deal or no deal. You know you need me in order to race,” she tries to intimidate to which I finally agree. “I will make you the sexiest girl there. Who knows maybe you’ll be lucky and get laid,” she taunts, an evil grin on her lips.

“Marie!”

“Oh quit the act. We know you are shy and innocent, but you become a freak and a total show when you race. I'll see you tonight,” she winks and walks out, completely leaving the lecture.

—/— Jude’s Point of View —/—

After matches came recovery. And after recovery, it was either a day off or prepping for the next match. Luckily I had the gym area to myself, working with a physical trainer on my knee and doing a few exercises that were as much work. I just needed something to preoccupy my mind before I met with my publicist. It's not that I hated him, I just didn't tolerate such a person like him.

I dragged out this meeting as far as possible but knowing how he is, he wouldn't care. After briefly talking with the PT about a few stretches I could do at home, I walked down the cafeteria and met up with Eduardo, who invited lunch for the both of us. We sat down and just talked about the game plays and the upcoming international break.

Lunch went by quickly, now I found myself walking down the small hallway into the office that belonged to my publicist. I resented him even more for working at the training grounds. I would rather be anywhere else but here. I put myself together and walked into the office only for it to be empty. I just take a seat and go on my phone bored. When Jaime does walk in, he hangs up and opens the manilla folder, where stacks of papers are in.

“Jude you have to quit going out so much! Look at all these articles!” Jaime raised his voice and threw the printed papers onto the marble desk. I rolled my eyes and sunk into my chair, my legs naturally spread apart, as my hand came to my temple.

“Real Madrid’s new star boy stars on and off the pitch. Ancelotti’s new golden boy has a record similar to Grealish, could we expect to see the young player get involved in the same stuff? Oh, my favourite, Jude Bellingham is seen leaving the strip club after the place was recently investigated by local authorities!” Jaime read off the articles, leaning forward to slap the side of my head, when he noticed my unfazed look. “Okay, I get it! Shit!”

“No Jude you don’t get it! How many times have I told you this isn't England? You're in Spain. Dealing with both countries who are on your ass to find every single detail of you. They follow you around with a camera because you let them, you give them a reason too. It's already the fans doing it, but the paparazzi, no I won’t let that slide,”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do? I’ve done everything you’ve suggested me to do! I can’t stop them, or else I'll end up on the cover the next morning. I can’t just quit my fun, because of them. I deserve to have a nice evening with my friends and family, but they're always there!” I bite back.

Not even my mother keeps tabs on me like this man does. I appreciate Jaime, but it's moments like this where I want to get up and leave and do the opposite of what he tells me to do. He takes his job too seriously and overworks himself way too much. I can’t exactly be the person he wants me to be. I hate being driven around or being forced to be someone I'm not.

“We have no say and do on the paparazzi, you know that. But if you keep doing what you do, I'll have to get you a stricter PR contract, and I can assure you, it will be hell. You choose Jude. One more fuck up and it's the first text you’ll receive the next morning,” Jaime threatened.

“You can’t be serious. Jaime, I can’t be hidden away the entire time! I don’t give a shit about what they think of me! I'm focused on football and my family. I told you to let them be and write what they write!,” I say, standing up and grabbing my training bag to leave. “It's my job to protect your image as a person and footballer, Jude. And it will be like that. If you have such an issue, go ahead and fire me, but we both know what that will do for the both of us…”

“One more fuck up Jude, and you will see.” I scoff and walk out, slamming his door. The office workers jump in their seats, while I mumble out curses and insults towards him. Would he really go that far just to keep his job? Threaten my image for his self-satisfaction? Yes, he would. I sigh and scratch my chin impatiently, trying to come up with a different plan to avoid the PR contract he was talking about. But all I could do was come up with reasons and stuff to piss him off.

The idea of a PR stunt sounded stupid. Sure, I have had my share of scandals but nothing too serious like he dramatises. People just can't seem to stand the idea of no commitment, especially if it involves girls. They also couldn't stand the idea of a footballer wanting to go out and enjoy a night of themselves. Some people can be so unreasonable, like Jaime, I would say what I had to say, and I didn't care for anyone’s feelings especially if I spit out the truth.

“Yo! Hey Jude! What’s up? Looks like you got back from speaking with Carlo,” Eduardo comes up and dabs me up, teasing me for my stressed look. I chuckle, “Nah man. My publicist is pissing me off. Trying to tell me what to do and giving me shit about all these articles.”

“When will they learn,” he comments, his brow nudging to the obvious. “For the moment mine hasn't given me ‘advice’ or ‘warnings’ after our trip to South France.”

“Well lucky you. I just can’t stress about this shit right now. We have the upcoming important games, and I am determined to win. And if I do go out, he shouldn’t be up my ass about it every time,” I groan, taking out my phone and seeing a call from Aurélien. “Tchou, how can I help you?” I joke, referring to when he dealt with his situationship while on our trip to France.

“Ha ha, very funny. What are you up to tonight? We’re free tomorrow.”

“Probably nothing. Just walked out on my publicist, so If you have anything in mind to do, say it,” I put the phone on speaker so Eduardo could hear, and let him know. “Me and the guys were gonna head out the city to go to a car meet, out of Madrid,” he says. I give a look to Eduardo who just shrugs his shoulders not retaining the information.

“A car meet? Those exist here?”

“Yes, dumbass. You’d be surprised but, they're very fun. Although we shouldn't be there, it's the only place where people and paparazzi can’t recognize us. They treat each other and us like royalty, plus who wouldn’t mind some fun?” Aurélien says to us. I hesitate, only because of what just happened inside, but also the idea of it being illegal and caught. “You guys in or not?”

“Count me in.”

Jaime wouldn't know. And if Aurélien is saying we wouldn't be recognized, then why the fuck not? I'm not here to just pose for cameras and play. I'm also a regular person who deserves to live his life the way I want. Part of me thought of how bad this idea could be, but truthfully I didn’t give a shit, I just wanted to piss off Jaime. Aurélien advises us to dress nice since people who attended those car races often thought of them as fashion shows. Which is found myself calling the only girl who could help me out.

“Hey, Sunny? Sorry for the late call, could you help me out with an outfit for tonight? Just don't mention it to Jaime.”

—/— (Your Point of View) —/—

“Ok no- That’s like way too revealing! I couldn't pull that off” I brushed away the shortest skirt she found. “Nuh uh- No way. You're going to wear it, and it's going to be worn with these shoes and lace meshy top,” Marie comes behind me and puts both hangers to my front. “My whole butt is out in this skirt! People are gonna see my-” I waved with my hands to my lower region to which she snickers.

“Either you race or don’t,” Marie says, to which I just squint my eyes together. “Fine! I will at least pick out my jacket!” I pick up the clothes and quickly change into the pieces of clothes she gave me. My makeup was already done, a simple and not too heavy look since I had to wear a mask and helmet underneath while I raced. All I had to do was take my hair out of my rollers and apply some deodorant and jewellery and we could make the drive down.

Marie gasped as I walked out, clapping her hands excitedly as she approached me. “You look so fucking hot, I could make out with you!” Her hands roam and fix my skirt so they pull lower and hang around my hips. I give her a look but she quickly shrugs me. I go to the mirror and tug on both items. “I don't know whether to pull this up or or tug it down,” I say shuffling.

“Hurry! Fix your hair and put your boots on. You have a race to win!”

I pose for a selfie when I see Marie point her phone towards me, my hands on the steering wheel as I pull into the gravel road that heads to the main road to the tracks. Goosebumps raise my skin as I hear the music and loud car exhaust as we pull in. Other cars are doing donuts, which I find silly, or showing off their engines. “Hi Matty, how are ya tonight?” I ask the middle-aged man who sighs and hands me my racer number and time slot. He’s tired of his job, but just like everyone else here, he has his reasons. “Same old same old. I bet money on ya tonight, so you better win against that trashy girl Jacqueline,” he points out, handing me back the cashback after I paid. “Good luck tonight, make us proud!” he winks.

I smile and shift to one as I drive down to the start of the line. The tracks are old and kinda messy. They can shift from gravel to normal roads, which causes some drivers to lose focus. “Nervous for tonight?” Marie asks to which I nervously nod. “I mean it's against Jacqueline, we’ve had our shares in the past and she’s good,” I say.

“Yeah but not as good as you. Keep that in mind. Just think of the money, it will be your motive,” she says. We open the door and step out, I hear commotion and then look up to people cheering for me. I wave and thank them before walking over to our group who’s standing by the starting line. We all hug and chat about the race, which is filled with a lot of rivals going head to head.

I could feel my blood pumping as I watched the two Mustangs take out, their exhaust fumes following. The excitement you face also comes to anticipation as you watch which car will make it first to the end. The yellow Mustang wins by .4 seconds after they race for almost two minutes. I turn to the side when I hear my name being called, “Y/n, when are we gonna race?”

“As soon as you let me see what’s under your hood,” they scoff and walk off. It would've been too easy…

—/— (Jude’s Point of View) ---/—

The black LV suit was perfect for the occasion. Aurélien was right, people do dress as if they were attending fashion shows here. We all decided to go in two cars, making the almost forty-minute drive down to this closed-off restricted area. We followed the guide who led us up to the almost ‘VIP’ area.

The commotion was loud. People were either drinking, making out, or dancing. Or those who wanted to feel lucky, gambled money by playing poker. This truly did feel like a bad idea now, but I couldn't care less now that I was drinking a beer. We had clear and perfect views of the track, I was lucky to attend an F1 show in the past but this? This was completely different.

Fancy or new cars racing, and it was just the beginning. I talked with Eduardo for a good time as I observed the loud car go head to head towards the finish line. Music played loudly, but as Aurélien had said, no one recognized us. We step out and that’s when I notice the black challenger pull in. Two girls step out, but it's the driver who gets my attention. She chews gum and listens with boredom as they explain the rules to her.

My eyes roam down her slim and fit body, and I get a closer look when she quickly puts on her mask and helmet. I find myself not being able to look away, especially after she faces her opponent, ignoring their truce handshake. She’s too confident and now has my full attention.

Her windows are rolled down, her hand on the wheel, and the other is on the gear shift, patiently waiting for the light to turn green. “Who’s that?” I finally speak, completely forgetting I was in mid-conversation with Eduardo. “That’s Y/n in the black challenger. And in the red camaro is Jacqueline. They hate their guts, biggest rivals after Jacqueline's brother cheated on a race. Y/n, she’s the best of the best…” speaks a different guy. “Word on the street is that Jacqueline is involved in a gang, but who knows,” he says.

Y/n pulls out her thumb signalling she’s ready, and then quickly drives off when the light turns green. Just like the guy had said, she was the best of the best, quickly drifting and turning onto the tracks. Her car was faster than the red camaro, and you could tell the determination to win was there. I just waited for it to go the other way.

Soon yelling and commotion started when Jacqueline caught up, and took the lead, Y/n just maintained her speed and control as before. “What is she doing? She’ll lose if she doesn't catch up!” said another guy. I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms, looking back at the two cars on the race track. I didn’t understand how this worked, but it looked like not even I could make those turns, especially at those speeds.

Everyone gasped or oohed when the camaro lost control and failed to do the sharp tight turn correctly, cheering when Y/n went back to the lead and quickly made it to the finish line. We walked down to the starting line where she got out, and put her hands up, and cheered. She took her helmet and mask off, and that's when I truly was drawn to her facial features. “Bro? You’re drooling,” Brahim joked to which I just pushed his shoulder.

The crowd went quiet as the red camero pulled in, an angry Jacqueline and passenger getting off to confront Y/n. “You cheated!” she points at her to which the girl wearing all black just snorted and chuckled, “No babes. You just suck. I won, just like the other times before. Now go whine somewhere else and leave us alone for once.”

Her eyes connected with mine, and it felt like time just slowly flew by. Her lips parted, as she took me in, her hand holding the helmet and now stack of cash. She looked away and shyly smiled towards her friends, them congratulating her. She would nod then and there and only stick with those friends. “I’ll be back. Going to congratulate the winner,” I say and smile at Eduardo who wishes me luck. I don't need luck I'm Jude Bellingham.

I was determined to know more about her. Who she was, and why she raced especially. But before I could introduce myself, a loud bang and glass shattering prevented me from doing so. The last I saw while we ran was Y/n getting into her car and driving away. A loud car pulled near us, the familiar face and eyes locking with mine.

“Hurry! Get in!”

---/--- ( author's note) ---/---

hiiiii! first chapter eeekkkk! I hope you all enjoyed it and didn't think this was too long! I truly enjoyed writing this, and can't wait for you guys to read the rest. I'm also praying this doesn't flop or I'll be really upset... have an amazing day!

[ithaquasbbg]

Hello! could you do Ganji, Norton and Naib reacting to their s/o getting in a spat with another survivor (of your choice) and the other survivor ends up punching them? :D

Oooh fun request! Ty :))

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Ganji, Norton and Naib when their partner gets in a fight

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Pairings: Ganji x reader, Norton x reader and Naib x reader

Tw: Some blood mentions (bloody nose) and that’s it

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Ganji

|⚾️| He probably wouldn’t know what to think at first, how had a fight even started in the first place?

|⚾️| Ganji doesn’t strike me as the type to step in unless it’s completely necessary, and he will step in as soon as the fight escalates to that point

|⚾️| Takes you to Emily so she can check and make sure your nose isn’t broken, getting you a tissue if you have a nosebleed, ect.

|⚾️| If it was a stupid argument, he’d do all of this while giving you the silent treatment, with a few “what were you thinking?” And other scolding occasionally

|⚾️| If it wasn’t a stupid argument, he’d probably be much more visibly concerned for you, and voices it more as well.

|⚾️| After the fight, he’d probably make sure to give the other survivor some mean looks, or keep them as far away from you as possible.

“Your shirt is all bloody, (Name).” Ganji mumbles, handing you a few more tissues for your nosebleed. “Thank you.” You respond, sitting in awkward silence for a moment until Ganji takes off his shirt, handing it to you. “Take it, (Name), it will probably be more comfortable than your shirt right now.”

���

Norton

|🧲| He probably steps in the second he sees something happening, but cannot stop the damage that has already been done. Unfortunately, you’ve already been punched

|🧲| Norton is definitely pissed with the other survivor, but doesn’t do anything to them since he wants to help you first.

|🧲| Takes you to somewhere quieter so he can bring you some ice for where you got punched

|🧲| Due to how he was treated before coming to the manor, it’s no surprise he knows how to deal with injuries that come from punches

|🧲| It doesn’t matter if it was a stupid fight or not, he’ll be whispering curses about the other survivor for hours

|🧲| Definitely more protective of you around them from that point on, even if the two of you apologize to each other.

You feel Norton’s grip on your hand tighten as you pass the survivor you got in a fight with weeks ago. “That son of a bitch.” He whispers, which causes you to laugh “Norton, it’s fine, we’re not mad at each other anymore.” He doesn’t seem to agree that it’s fine, and simply gives the other survivor a glare and walks away with your hand still in his grasp.

…

Naib

|🤎| He’d have no problem stepping in and whipping the other persons ass more than they did yours. After years as a mercenary, he most definitely knows how to throw some good punches

|🤎| The moment his attention is back on you though, he’s like an entirely different person.

|🤎| Super gentle with patching up the injuries you may have even if you aren’t in a lot of pain

|🤎| Even though he’s gentle with you, he’s definitely going to scold you quite a bit for getting into a fight in the first place, no matter what caused it

|🤎| He has a tendency to be a quite protective lover similar to Norton, but his presence is definitely much more noticeable to the other survivor

|🤎| Before every match you have with that survivor now on, he’ll make sure they don’t treat you badly, threatening the other if they do

“(Name), hold still so the blood doesn’t get everywhere.” Naib scolds, gently holding a tissue to your bleeding nose as you groan. “I’m not some child, Naib, I can do it myself!” The mercenary scoffs and simply keeps on holding the tissue to your nose “And yet you got into a fight like one.”

….

This was fun to write, thank you for the request! I’m sorry it took a long time to get done 🥹