#i'm punching the air over how much i love them hang on

[charmedimsure]

Your writing is just fucken scrumptious 🌟🌟 if you don't mind, Can you write about Thanos's reaction to a Nana osaki fem! Reader? (Like reader got her style, career, and personality) {plus points if reader is pierced, like Se-mi} You can make this into a one shot if you like ;))

i have beef with you, anon. i watched the first episode to try and get a better grasp on her personality and i got hooked. holy crap that anime is sad but so good. decided to add others cuz i fell in love with this character

SQUID GAME X NANA OSAKI! READER

including: thanos, nam-gyu, dae-ho, in-ho

warnings: squid game stuff, blood, violence

THANOS

Thanos is not completely sure how he got himself in this position.

He's laying on the floor, his throat being squeezed by player 001, who's fist is positioned to hit him again.

"I'm sorry," Thanos manages to get out with the bit of air he still has in his lungs. "Please. Please let me go."

Player 001 let's go and he rolls over, bringing his own hand to his throat as he tries to suck in deep breaths to get as much oxygen into his lungs as he can.

The players around them break out in applause, praising the man for beating up Thanos. As the man walks back into the crowd, the soft sound of laughter can be heard from behind Thanos.

The rapper turns, ready to tell off whoever it is that's laughing at him. His words die on his tongue when he sees the source of the laughter is you.

You're sitting on your bunk, head tilted back in laughter. Your hair falls to the side, exposing your piercings. And for the second time today, Thanos' breath is stolen from him.

The next day he approaches you right before the second game.

"Señorita, excuse me."

You turn, an amused smirk gracing your face as you recognize the boy speaking to you. "Oh, it's you. How's your throat?"

He knows you're making fun of him, but he can't help the small flutter in his heart because you remember him. "Let's play the game together."

You bring your hand up to support your chin, showing off your rings. "Yeah? Why should I?"

One of the players behind him gives you a dumbfounded look. "Don't you know who he is? He's Thanos the rapper."

You chuckle as he recites one of his lines. Truth is, you do know who this is. You and Thanos had played at a few of the same places. You doubted he could remember though. He was always high out of his mind.

The other player behind him puts a hand on his shoulder. You recognize him from one of the clubs you play at. Nam-gyu, if you're remembering correctly. "Hang on, a girl? We don't know what the game is."

Thanos pushes him away, his eyes still on you. "I'm gonna destroy anyone who gets in my way," he says, punching the air in front of him.

You let out a chuckle. "Whatever, man. Just don't get me killed."

NAM-GYU

"Two."

Nam-gyu turns to Thanos, ready to run into a room with him. It's the last round and they're definitely getting out of here alive.

Thanos shakes his head quickly, looking between the three of you before ultimately grabbing Min-su's hand, dragging the boy toward one of the rooms.

Nam-gyu just stands there, watching as the person he's looked up to since before they even ended up in this shithole chooses some kid over him.

"Come on!" you yell, grabbing Nam-gyu's wrist and pulling him along after you. He nearly falls over but stays on his feet, running after you to a pink door. Nam-gyu goes in first.

As you're entering the room, a man grabs you by the hair, yanking you backwards and out of the room. He takes a step forward before a foot makes contact with his crotch, causing the man to let out a yelp of pain. He falls to his knees, revealing you standing behind him.

You push him out of the doorway, coming in and closing the door just in time for it to lock.

Nam-gyu stands in the back of the room, massaging his wrist where you grabbed him.

You catch your breath, looking at the man in the room. "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

Nam-gyu scowls at you. "You could've broken my wrist, you bitch."

You scoff, putting your hands on your hips. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Nam-gyu just glares at you.

"You've been rude to me since you met me for no damn reason. And now when your 'friend' chooses someone over you and I step in to save your fucking life, you're still finding things to complain about!" You huff. "Get over yourself."

You turn your back to him. Nam-gyu thinks about your words. You're right, he has been rude to you since you joined their team. He was really just jealous because Thanos was paying more attention to you than to him. And now you're the whole reason he's alive and all he had to say was "you could've broke my wrist".

You pace back and forth, trying to get over you anger without physically attacking the boy standing by the other wall. You hear him mumble, which gets your attention.

"What was that?"

He sighs. "I said thank you."

You just look at each other. You study his face, seeing a hint of remorse in his eyes. You nod, a silent 'you're welcome'.

"Let's just hope those two idiots made it to a room on time."

DAE-HO

Dae-ho looks through the crowd of people. He'd jumped at the chance to prove himself a useful team member and find a fifth person for the game, but now he's struggling to choose. Everyone is either already in a group or isn't the kind of person the others are expecting him to bring back.

"Hey," a voice says behind him.

Dae-ho whips his head around and his jaw practically falls to the floor when he sees you looking up at him. Your hands are shoved into your pockets, the expression on your pierced face calm despite the situation you're in. Dae-ho is sure he's never seen a girl who looks more intimidating than you. Or more beautiful.

"Do you have a team yet?" you ask.

Dae-ho just stands there, staring at you with his mouth still open, brain trying to comprehend the words you just said to him.

You furrow your brows. "You okay, dude?"

He snaps himself out of it, nodding. "Y-yeah, I'm... uh... I'm f-fine."

You smirk as he tumbles over his words, finding the man endearing. "So, do you have a team yet?"

He nods. "Uh, yeah, yeah I do have a team."

The smirk on your face drops. "Bummer." You take one of your hands out of your pocket, giving him a small wave as you take a step back. "Well, good luck."

"Wait!" Dae-ho yells louder than he meant to, gaining the attention of a few people around him. You look back at him, an eyebrow cocked. "We, uh, actually need one m-more person, if you want to join." He knows you're not the person they wanted Dae-ho to find, but he has a good feeling about you.

You smile at him and he swears this is heaven. "Yeah, that'd be great."

He leads you through the crowd towards his own team. Jung-bae is the first to notice him. "Dae-ho, did you find someone?"

Dae-ho nods shyly, stepping to the side to reveal you behind him.

Jung-bae's smile falters. "This is who you got?"

You look between both players. "Is this a problem?"

He puts a polite smile back on his face. "No, miss, not at all. We were just expecting him to bring back someone more..."

"Male?" you finish for him. You look at the other men in the group. "It seems like you have enough testosterone in this group already."

Player 001 steps toward you. "Are you confident you can win this game?"

You nod. "I don't plan on dying in this place."

He turns to the others. "Let's let her join."

Player 456 steps forward. "I agree."

You turn to Dae-ho, smiling and giving him a small thank you nod.

He smiles back, a blush coloring his cheeks as he kicks at the sand on the ground.

IN-HO

"I saw what you did, you sick fuck!" a voice shouts.

In-ho looks up from his coversation with Gi-hun, eyes immediately finding the purple haired player in the middle of the floor. Another player is standing behind him, chest puffed out.

A plastic spoon is thrown at the purple player's chest. In-ho looks across the room to see a girl marching toward him. You. Your fists are clenched and the look on your face could send fear into the hearts of anyone.

Player 230 chuckles. "Saw what, Señorita?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," you growl. "You pushed those people! You killed them!"

"They would've died anyway!"

"They could have made it!"

He laughs again. "Who cares, it's more money for us." The player behind him, 124, snickers.

You scoff. "Well, why don't I do us all a favor then and add another 100 million won to the pot?"

Player 230 laughs out loud, raising an eyebrow at you and stepping closer, "Oh yeah? And what are you gonna be able to do?"

Gasps come from everyone in the room as you lunge at him, knocking the both of you to the ground. Player 124 watches with an open mouth, too shocked to do anything.

Player 230 looks up at his friend. "Help me, you fucker!"

Player 124 nods and kicks you off of 230. You manage to get to your feet, throwing a punch at 124.

He stumbles back, touching his fingers to his nose and pulling them away to find blood. He grits his teeth at you. "You bitch!"

He swings at you, which you manage to dodge until the other player kicks you in the back of the knee, sending you to the ground. You kick his legs out from under him, getting on him to hit him again.

In-ho stands up, pushing past Jung-bae and Dae-ho to the center of the room. He pulls you off of player 230. You try to attack him again but In-ho has a tight hold on you, putting his body between you and the rapper.

"They're not worth it," he says to you. "Don't get yourself hurt over this."

You look at the rappers face, smirking when you see the imprint of your ring on his cheek. You throw the man's arms off of you, wiping the blood from your face with your sleeve as you walk back to the bunks, a few players on the sidelines clapping for you.

In-ho turns to face the boys. Player 124 is helping 230 off the ground, both bleeding. Scratch marks can be seen on 230's face from your nails. He's lucky you didn't claw one of his eyes out. He looks back at you, watching you sit down on your bed, holding your sleeve up to your split lip.

You're someone he's gonna keep his eye out for.

Squid Game Tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy @l5byrinth @come-as-you-are-111 @starkeyszn @learninglinesintherainn @galactict3a @sawlover353 @jspidey5 @skywalker0809 @zannispppp @lianobody @ihrthoney @machii-d3arr

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5 @dragons-h0ard @silas-222 @putrescentpoet @chrisgetsmewetter @sunhyeswife @smile1318 @casually-simping @slvtforfakemen @ang3licbabydolly

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[aryadelvich]

So it’s a mixture of all the requests you’ve send — thank you very much ! — Here’s the list :

1. Academic rivals to lover

2. First kiss, first time.

3. Summer love, camp counsellor trope

4. College loves.

Also thanks you for your comments, likes and reblog 🥹🫶 It’s warm my heart

I want to thank Spotify for accompanying me for this story ;)

Luigi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, his piercing green/brown eyes narrowing at you like you'd just declared war. His curls fell slightly into his face, and he pushed them back with a practiced flick of his hand.

You smirked, leaning forward on your elbows, your own gaze never wavering.

"And here I thought you were paying attention in class. Guess not. Maybe if you spent less time flexing your abs for the cheer squad and more time studying, you'd actually keep up."

His jaw tightened, but there was something else in his expression—something that made his usual cocky grin falter for half a second. He recovered quickly, though, flashing that signature smile that made half the campus swoon.

"Funny. I don't recall asking for your opinion on how I spend my time. But hey, if you're so obsessed with my abs, maybe I should start charging for the view."

You swear, if this guy wasn't built like a Greek god, you'd have punched him by now.

But you didn't punch him. Instead, you rolled your eyes, shoving your notes into your bag with more force than necessary.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mangione. Your ego's already big enough to fill this entire lecture hall."

He laughed, low and deep, and it grated on your nerves.

« Whatever you say, Y/N. But I'm gonna win the debate competition." He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air between him and you.

It's been two years consecutive that he wins this competition, and you knew that it's was your chance to prove yourself and for the same occasion humiliate him.

You stood abruptly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Good luck catching up," you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're gonna need it."

As your walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back like twin lasers. What the hell is his problem? You thought, your heart pounding for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

You've been at each other's throats since freshman year, competing for top marks in every class, trading barbs whenever you crossed paths. It was exhausting, infuriating... and somehow, weirdly exhilarating.

Two Weeks Later – Debate Competition

The auditorium buzzed with anticipation as the final round of the debate competition began. The topic? "Is capitalism inherently exploitative?"

You stood at your podium, pulse steady, determination burning in your chest. Across from you, Luigi leaned against his own, exuding the same infuriating confidence he always did. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms, and he had that smug little smirk like he'd already won.

Not this time.

The moderator signaled for the debate to begin. Luigi started, his voice smooth and authoritative.

"Capitalism has lifted millions out of poverty, fostering innovation, competition, and economic growth. The free market incentivizes efficiency, rewarding those who work hard and contribute to society."

You let him talk, feigning disinterest as you twirled your pen between your fingers. When it was your turn, you took a deep breath and smiled.

"That's a nice fairy tale, Mangione. But let's talk reality. The wealth gap is wider than ever, workers are exploited for profit, and entire industries thrive on underpaying laborers while CEOs collect bonuses the size of small countries. If capitalism really rewarded hard work, explain why nurses barely make a livable wage while hedge fund managers get rich moving numbers around on a screen."

Luigi narrowed his eyes. "That's an oversimplification. The market adjusts itself. When a system is inefficient, it evolves—industries that fail to provide value either adapt or collapse. Competition forces innovation. If wages are too low, businesses will struggle to retain talent, and the market will naturally push salaries higher. Government intervention only distorts this balance, creating inefficiencies that harm long-term economic growth. The reality is, capitalism isn't perfect, but no other system has produced the same level of progress and opportunity."

"So you're saying child labor in sweatshops is just an inefficiency that'll 'fix itself'?" you responded smoothly.

A ripple of murmurs ran through the audience. Luigi hesitated—just for a second. His sisters, sitting with his parents in the front row, exchanged glances. You caught the small, proud smile on your own mother's face.

Game on.

You pressed forward, dismantling his every counterpoint with cold, hard facts. Every time he tried to regain control of the debate, you had an answer waiting. And for the first time since you'd started competing against him, he had nothing left to say.

When the final vote came in, the judges's decision was tight. But You won.

Luigi stared at the results, lips parted slightly, as if trying to process what had just happened.

"You okay there, Mangione?" you teased, stepping closer. "You look a little... shocked."

He blinked, then let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his curls.

"Huh," he muttered, shaking his head. "Didn't think I'd live to see the day."

You grinned, savoring the moment. "Better get used to it."

"You know," Luigi's voice was calmer now, lacking its usual teasing edge, "I didn't lose because you were better than me."

You turned, arching a brow. "Oh? So what, you tripped over your own ego and face-planted into defeat?"

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head before meeting your gaze. But this time, there was no smug grin, no hint of competition—just honesty.

"I lost because I didn't even believe what I was saying."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Luigi sighed, leaning against one of the tables. "I've defended ideas in debates before. Won every time. But today? I couldn't bring myself to mean it."

He ran a hand through his curls, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"I know how messed up the system is. I know that no matter how much you try to justify it, it does exploit people. And the second I started talking, I realized I didn't have the same fire I usually do."

You crossed your arms, studying him. This was... unexpected.

"So, what? You're telling me you lost on purpose? »

"Of course not," he scoffed, shooting you a look. "I gave everything I had. But when you're up against someone who genuinely believes what they're saying? Someone who can argue with conviction? You don't stand a chance."

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. "Sounds like an excuse to me, Mangione."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up.”

You took a step closer, tilting your head. "You know, the whole point of oratory is to convince people, even when you don't believe in what you're saying."

Luigi's gaze flickered with interest. "So you're saying you could argue for capitalism and win?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "That's terrifying."

You grinned. "That's debate"

For a moment, there was silence. The usual sharp tension between you had shifted into something else—something quieter. He watched you with an unreadable expression, and for once, you didn't feel the need to break the moment with a snarky remark.

But then he smirked. "Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Y/N. Next time, I won't go easy on you."

You scoffed. "You didn't go easy on me. You just lost."

His smile faltered for half a second, then he laughed under his breath. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."

Before you could respond, your little sister, darted right past you, running up to him.

"Are you Luigi?" she asked, eyes wide.

Luigi crouched slightly to her level, flashing a grin. "Depends. Are you the little sister who's probably way smarter than your big one?"

Before your sister could answer, you grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back.

"Don't talk to him," you told her, voice mock-serious. "He's a racist."

The conversation halted. Luigi's jaw dropped slightly. His sisters, standing a few feet away, whipped their heads toward him. His mother gasped. Your own mother smacked your arm.

"Y/N!"

You snorted, unable to hold in your laughter. "Relax, he's not actually racist. He's just annoying."

Luigi sighed in relief. His father gave him a skeptical glance, and one of his sisters muttered, "For a second, I was about to disown you."

"You're not funny," Luigi grumbled at you, shaking his head.

"You laughed, though."

"Absolutely not." He said with a smile on his face.

"Mm-hm. Sure."

You turned to introduce your mother properly to his family, but out of the corner of your eye, you caught something—Luigi watching you. Not with his usual smirk. Not with irritation. Just watching.

— Summer Break —

The sun hung high over the camp, casting warm golden light over the rows of cabins and the dense forest surrounding them. You adjusted your staff T-shirt, feeling the heat seep into your skin as you made your way toward the main hall for the pre-opening staff meeting.

You had applied to work here months ago—decent pay, free lodging, and a summer spent beside the beach and the soft breeze of summer.

Or so you thought.

The moment you walked into the meeting room, your body froze.

Leaning casually against one of the tables, arms crossed over his chest, wearing the same staff T-shirt as you, was Luigi.

His curls were slightly damp, probably from the heat, and he looked up just in time to see you enter.

For a moment, the room went silent.

Then, in perfect sync:

"No way."

You both said it at the exact same time, staring at each other in disbelief.

Luigi let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're kidding me."

"I should be the one saying that," you shot back, still processing the sheer misery of the situation. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Volontarisme, obviously." He gestured at the staff badge hanging around his neck. "What, you think I came for the fresh air?"

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. The other counselors were already watching with amused expressions, whispering to each other.

One of the senior staff members, a woman named Maya, clapped her hands together. "Alright, I take it you two know each other?"

Luigi smirked. "Oh, we go way back."

You shot him a glare before turning back to Maya. "We're at the same university, don't know him."

"Right," Maya said, clearly entertained. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to work on your teamwork skills this summer."

Luigi grinned, and you immediately regretted every life choice that led you here.

— Three weeks later —

It had been three weeks since the summer camp started, and somehow, you and Luigi had mostly managed to stay out of each other's way.

Until today.

The staff had been assigned to deep-clean the common areas before the next wave of campers arrived. You were already in a bad mood from scrubbing floors when Maya, ever the troublemaker, sent you and Luigi to restock cleaning supplies in the storage room.

The small, cramped storage closet filled with bleach, detergent, and every cleaning product imaginable.

"Just grab what we need and get out," you muttered as you pulled open the door.

Luigi, of course, took his time. "Relax. It's not like the camp's gonna collapse if we take an extra minute."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a mop from the shelf. "That attitude is why you lost the debate, by the way."

Luigi snorted. "Oh, we're bringing that up again? Please, you won because I was morally conflicted."

"You lost because I was better than you."

"And yet, here we are, stuck working the same job," he pointed out, raising a brow.

You were about to fire back a retort when the door shut behind you.

Then, the distinct click of the lock turning.

Silence.

You whipped around. Luigi reached for the handle, twisting it. Nothing. He tried again. Locked.

He let out a sharp exhale, then turned to you, scowling.

"You couldn't keep the damn door open with your big ass?"

Your eyes widened.

Then, without thinking, you grabbed the nearest spray bottle and chucked it straight at him.

"Are you serious right now?!" you snapped as he barely dodged it. "We're trapped in a closet full of BLEACH, and you're blaming me ?”

Luigi ran a hand through his curls, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. "I'm just saying, maybe if you didn't take up half the doorway—"

"Finish that sentence, Mangione. I dare you."

He shut his mouth.

You let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers against your temples. "Unbelievable. I'm going to die here. With you."

Luigi scoffed. "Oh please, if anyone's dying first, it's me. You'll probably suffocate me before the lack of oxygen does."

You turned to glare at him. "That can be arranged."

A dozen ideas flashed through his mind—one in particular involving you and a rather strategic seating arrangement—but he wisely kept that thought to himself.

"I didn't say it was your fault—"

"Oh, shut up, Mangione." You pressed your forehead against the door, willing it to magically open.

No luck.

From the other side, you heard faint laughter.

The air between you shifted slightly. The usual sharpness of your arguments was still there, but being stuck in a cramped space with him suddenly made it feel... different.

Closer.

Too close.

You cleared your throat, stepping away from the door. "Let's just find another way out before we die of chemical inhalation."

Luigi smirked, that irritating confidence returning. "Scared of being trapped with me, Y/N?"

You shot him a glare. "Terrified."

His chuckle was low and amused as he crossed his arms. "Don't worry. I'll protect you from the scary cleaning supplies."

You could hear the faint click of his tongue, the sound of him shifting slightly behind you. His body grazed yours, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You reached for your phone, only to realize it wasn't in your pocket. Of course. You'd left it in your bag. "Do you have your phone?"

"No," he admitted, his tone clipped. "Left it in my locker."

Silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating. The room was cramped, the shelves stacked with supplies pressing in on all sides. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence impossible to ignore.

You pressed yourself harder against the shelf, hoping to put some space between you and Luigi, but it was useless. He was right behind you, his chest nearly brushing against your back.

"Can you not stand so close?" you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I would if I could," he said, his voice annoyingly calm. "But there's literally nowhere else to go."

The room was suffocatingly small, and the faint scent of his cologne wasn't helping.

"Well, stop breathing down my neck," you muttered, hoping the irritation in your tone would mask the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

He let out a quiet laugh, and you could feel the rumble of it in the air between you.

"I'm not breathing down your neck," he said, his voice dipping lower, "but you do seem tense. Nervous, even."

Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, your irritation bubbling to the surface. You turned your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, but immediately regretted it. He was too close. His face was inches from yours, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Back off," you hissed.

"Sure," he replied smoothly, "as soon as we figure out how to open that door."

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the lock, ignoring how your hands shook slightly as you fiddled with the knob. The silence stretched between you, heavy and thick, until you felt him lean in closer.

"Are you always this stubborn, or is it just when I'm around?" he murmured near your ear, his voice low and teasing.

Your breath hitched, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting. Instead, you glared at the lock as if it were the source of all your problems.

"Are you always this insufferable, or is it just with me?" you shot back.

He chuckled again, soft and infuriating. "Maybe I just like seeing you flustered."

Your grip tightened on the handle as your heart raced. You weren't flustered. No. That's exactly what he wanted, and you weren't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't flatter yourself," you muttered, shoving the handle harder in a desperate attempt to break free.

But in the back of your mind, as you felt his warmth against your back and his calm, steady presence behind you, you weren't sure if you wanted him to move away after all.

And then it happened. You felt it.

A subtle shift against your lower back, a hardness you hadn't anticipated. Your breath caught in your throat, your body instinctively stiffening. No. This was not happening. Not with him.

But it was happening. You could feel him—every inch of him—pressed against you. His breath hitched, barely audible, but you heard it. A soft, involuntary sound that sent a jolt through you.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on, thick with tension, and you were hyper-aware of every tiny movement. His hardness pressed more insistently against you, and you couldn't stop the way your body reacted.

Without thinking, you shifted slightly, just enough to feel him more fully against you. His breath caught again, and you heard him swallow hard.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice strained.

You didn't respond. Instead, you did it again, this time more deliberately. You rubbed against him, feeling the way he tensed behind you, the way his breath came in shallow bursts.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his hands gripping the shelves on either side of you. You could feel him struggling to stay still, to resist the pull between you. But it was too late. You'd already crossed the line.

You pushed back against him again, your heart pounding in your chest. This was wrong. He was your rival. Your enemy. And yet, the way he was reacting to you—the way his body responded to every move you made—was impossible to ignore.

He groaned softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His hips moved against you, almost unconsciously, and you could feel the heat building between you.

"You're not... stopping," he breathed, his voice barely audible.

"You want me to stop?" you shot back, your tone defiant.

“No,” he said between two moans.

He let out a low, guttural sound, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the tension in him, the way he was trying—and failing—to hold back.

And then it happened. He came.

You felt it—the way his body trembled against yours, the way his breath hitched, the way he let out a soft, almost pained moan. His hands gripped the shelves tighter, his body shuddering as he spilled into his pants.

The room fell silent again, the only sound the ragged breaths escaping both of you. You stood there, your back still pressed against him, your mind racing.

"Fuck," he muttered again, his voice rough and filled with frustration.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Your body was still humming with the tension, the heat, the way he'd reacted to you.

And then, finally, he spoke again. "This doesn't change anything," he said, his voice low and firm.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to see his profile in the dim light. His jaw was clenched, his expression hard. "No," you agreed, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "It doesn't."

But as you stood there, still pressed against him, you couldn't help but wonder—was that really true?

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the heat of his body against yours. His breath was warm on your neck, and the tension between you was almost unbearable. But something in you resisted—this wasn't the time, and he wasn't the one who got to decide when things escalated.

Not like this. Not with him.

You took a deep breath, then stepped back, breaking the contact between you. The sudden distance felt cold, like you'd ripped off a blanket in the middle of winter. Luigi blinked, his expressive face flickering with surprise before it settled back into that infuriating smirk.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low but laced with curiosity.

"I'm not doing anything," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. "You're the one who got us stuck in here. So, figure out how to get the door open."

He raised an eyebrow, that smirk widening. "Oh, so now it's my fault? I seem to recall you were the one who followed me into the lab in the first place."

Your cheeks flushed, but you refused to let him see how much his words affected you. "I didn't follow you. I had work to do. You just happened to be here."

"Sure," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And I just happened to get locked in here with you. Totally a coincidence."

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to examine the door more closely. "Just fix it, Luigi. I don't have time for your games."

He stepped closer, his presence looming behind you. You could feel the warmth of his body again, and it took everything in you not to lean back into it. "What if I don't want to?" he murmured, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. "What if I think this is... convenient?"

You whirled around, glaring at him. "Convenient? Are you serious right now? We're locked in a lab, Luigi. This isn't some romantic comedy. This is a safety hazard."

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, like it was meant only for you. "Romantic comedy, huh? So, you do think about us like that."

"I think you're delusional," you snapped, though your voice wavered slightly. "Now, either you figure out how to open this door, or I'll start yelling for help."

Your heart was racing now, and you could feel your resolve starting to crumble. Why does he have to be like this? You clenched your fists, trying to steady yourself. "Luigi, I swear, if you don't back off—"

"If I don't back off, what?" he interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What are you going to do about it?"

You spun around, ready to snap at him again, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was something there—something raw and unfiltered. It wasn't just arrogance or amusement. It was... truth. And it terrified you.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. "Because I can't help myself," he admitted, his voice rough. "Because every time I'm near you, I can't think straight. And I hate it."

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. "You hate it?"

"Yes," he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "But I also can't stop."

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your jawline, and you felt your resistance melting away. This is a bad idea, your brain whispered, but your body didn't seem to care.

"Luigi..." you started, but he cut you off, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that took your breath away.

For a moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. But then your body took over, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with equal intensity. It was messy, it was desperate, and it was everything you'd been trying to avoid.

He pressed you against the door, his body pinning you in place as his hands roamed over your waist, your hips, your thighs. You gasped into his mouth, your mind spinning as the world around you faded away.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with need. "You know that, right?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't. All you could do was hold on as he deepened the kiss, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and wanting.

"I... I've never done that before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Luigi..." you whispered, your voice trembling.

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "We shouldn't do this," he said, though his eyes said something entirely different.

"Then why did you start it?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

He hesitated, then stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "Because I'm an idiot," he admitted, his tone laced with frustration. "And because I can't stay away from you, no matter how hard I try."

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. What do I do now?

Before you could answer, he turned away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "This is a terrible idea," he muttered, mostly to himself. "You're my competition. My rival. This is only going to complicate things."

"You're the one who kissed me," you pointed out, your voice steadier now.

He stopped pacing and looked at you, his expression a mix of desire and resignation. "Yeah, I did. And I'd do it again if you let me."

Luigi's words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. "I'd do it again if you let me." His eyes burned into yours, daring you to make the next move. The lab felt impossibly small now, the air thick with tension and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Your heart raced, torn between the logical part of your brain screaming that this was a terrible idea and the part that wanted to see just how far he'd go.

You stepped closer, your breath hitching as his gaze followed you. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched you, his expressive face betraying a mix of anticipation and doubt. You reached out, your fingers brushing against the hem of his hoodie, and felt him tense under your touch.

"You're not going to stop me, are you?" you murmured, your voice low but steady.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Do I look like I want to stop you?"

That was all the confirmation you needed. Your hands moved to the waistband of his short, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper. He didn't help you, but he didn't stop you either, his hands hovering at his sides, he wasn't sure what to do with them —much like you. It was the first time you had ever been this close to a man. When you finally got the zipper down, you glanced up at him, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Don't overthink it," he said, his voice rough but soft.

You didn't. You pushed his jeans down just enough to free him, your fingers wrapping around his length. He let out a sharp exhale, his head tipping back slightly as you began to stroke him, — tasting his previous cum — slow and deliberate. His hands finally found their place, one tangling in your hair while the other gripped the edge of the lab table behind him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained. "You're not playing fair."

You smirked, your lips brushing against the tip of him before you took him into your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips twitching forward instinctively, but he stopped himself, letting you set the pace. You could taste the salt of him, feel the way he hardened further as you worked him with your tongue and lips. His breaths came in shallow gasps, and when you glanced up at him, you saw his eyes dark with desire, his jaw clenched as he fought to stay in control.

"You're—" he started, but his words cut off into a groan when you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His hand in your hair tightened again, not painfully, but enough to make your scalp tingle. "Oh, you're good at this."

You pulled back slightly, swirling your tongue around the tip before looking up at him. "You sound surprised."

He let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I shouldn't be. You're good at everything."

The compliment sent a thrill through you, and you returned your attention to him, sucking harder this time. His hips jerked forward, and he cursed under his breath, his fingers flexing in your hair. "Careful," he warned, though there was no real threat in his tone. "If you keep doing that, I'm not going to last."

You hummed in response, the vibration making him groan again. His free hand found its way to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as if he needed something to ground him. You could feel him trembling under your touch, his control unraveling with every stroke of your tongue, every flick of your lips. He was close—you could tell by the way his breathing hitched, the way his thighs tensed under your hands.

"Wait," he said suddenly, his voice strained. "Wait, I—"

You didn't stop. Instead, you took him deeper, your throat relaxing as you swallowed him down. His grip on your hair tightened almost painfully, but you didn't mind. You wanted him to lose control, to let go completely. And he did. With a low, guttural groan, he came, his body stiffening as he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed, your lips still wrapped around him as he rode out the aftershocks, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

When you finally pulled away, he slumped back against the lab table, his chest heaving. His hand fell from your hair, and he ran it over his face, letting out a shaky laugh. "Fuck," he said again, his voice hoarse. "That was—fuck."

You stood up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He looked at you, his eyes still dark but softer now, almost tender. "You're insane," he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"So I've been told," you replied, your voice teasing.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Come here," he said, his tone softer now. You stepped closer, and he kissed you—tasting himself—slow and deep, his hands tangling in your hair again. It was different from the first kiss—less frantic, more deliberate, as if he was trying to convey something he couldn't put into words.

You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, his breathing ragged, and it only made you want him more.

When you finally broke apart again, you were both panting, your foreheads pressed together.

"So... what now?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

You hesitated, your mind racing. What was next? You were still rivals, still the same people we'd been five minutes ago. And yet, something between you had shifted, something that couldn't be undone.

Before you could answer, the sound of footsteps outside the door made you both freeze.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?" a voice called from the other side.

Luigi and you quickly pulled apart, your faces flushed, as the door swung open. One of the other counselors stood there, looking confused.

"Oh, there you are! We've been looking for you two," they said, oblivious to what had just happened.

"Uh, yeah. We got... locked in," Luigi said, his voice uneven.

"Right. Well, come on, we need you out here for the next activity," they said, turning and walking away.

Luigi glanced at you, his expression unreadable. "So... next time we're alone—"

"Next time," you interrupted, your voice firm. "We finish what we started."

— Sunset —

The air was thick with the scent of pine and campfire as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. The camp was alive with laughter and chatter, but your mind was elsewhere. Luigi. The memory of his lips on yours, his hands trembling against your waist, lingered like a phantom touch. You couldn't shake it. The rivalry had always been intense, but now it felt like something else entirely.

You found yourself wandering in the beach, where you can heard the sound of the waves and feel the breeze against your skin. The faint sound of rustling leaves caught your attention, and you turned to see Luigi standing a few feet away. He looked nervous, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts. "Hey," he said softly, his voice almost lost in the rustling of the waves.

"Hey," you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you, a mix of vulnerability and determination, that made it hard to breathe. "What are you doing out here?"

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I wanted to talk to you. About... earlier."

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to steady yourself. "What about it?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. "I've never done that before. Kissed someone, I mean."

Your breath hitched. You knew he was a virgin, but hearing him say it out loud sent a jolt of electricity through you. "Neither have I," You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"

You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Really."

There was a moment of silence, the tension between you palpable. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours. His touch was warm, his fingers trembling slightly as they interlaced with yours. "I don't want to stop," he said, his voice low and rough. "I want to know what it's like. With you."

Your heart was racing now, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You wanted it too, wanted to feel him, all of him, but the rivalry that had always defined your relationship was still there, lurking beneath the surface. "What about this?" You asked, gesturing between him and you. "This... thing between us. Is it just about competition?"

He shook his head, his grip on your hands tightening. "No. It's not. It's never been just about that. Not really."

You searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all you saw was honesty, raw and unfiltered. "Then what is it?"

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "It's... I don't know. Something more. Something I can't explain."

You didn't need an explanation. You could feel it, the pull between you and him, the way your bodies seemed to gravitate toward each other without conscious thought. You stepped closer, your chests almost touching, and tilted you head up to look at him. "Show me," you whispered.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his hands were on your face, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that took your breath away. The kiss was different from the one in the supply room, deeper, more intense. It was like he was pouring everything he had into it, every ounce of his longing, his desire, his need.

You responded in kind, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the sides of his face. Your tongues clashed, the taste of him intoxicating. He groaned, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, your own voice shaky. "Yes."

He hesitated for only a moment before scooping you up into his arms and carrying you deeper into the tent. You could feel the soft sand of the ground beneath you, and he gently set you down, his body hovering over yours.

"I've never done this before," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I don't know what I'm doing."

You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "Neither do I. But we'll figure it out together."

He nodded, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. Then slowly, almost reverently, his hands began to explore your body, tracing the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist. Every touch sent a spark of electricity through you, your breath hitching as he moved lower.

His fingers fumbled with the button on your shorts, and you helped him, guiding his hands until the fabric slid down your legs. His eyes widened as he took you in, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

His hands were tentative at first, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that made your breath catch. And then he was kissing you again—starting at your collarbone, trailing down to your stomach, lower and lower until you felt his breath between your legs.

You tensed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you, his eyes blazing. “Trust me,” he said, his voice steady.

And you did. You trusted him enough to let go, to surrender to the waves of pleasure that crashed over you as he began to explore you with his mouth. His touch was hesitant at first, unsure, but quickly grew more confident as he learned what made you gasp, what made you arch your back.

“Where did you learn this?” You managed to say, your voice breathless. “In a book, uh?”

He paused, looking up at you with a smirk. “Maybe,” he said, his tone teasing. “Or maybe I just know what you like.”

You laughed—a soft, breathless sound that was quickly swallowed by the sensations coursing through you. His tongue was relentless, his hands gripping your hips as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

You reached for him, your hands trembling as you undid his belt and slid his pants down. He was hesitant at first, his movements unsure, but as your bodies pressed together, skin against skin, a sense of urgency overtook the two of you.

He positioned himself between your legs, his eyes locked on yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes. Please, Luigi."

With a shaky breath, he entered you, the sensation both strange and exhilarating. There was a moment of discomfort, a sharp sting that made you gasp, but he paused, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Yes. Please keep going."

He did as you asked, moving slowly at first, the friction between you building with each thrust. The awkwardness began to fade, replaced by a pleasure that was unlike anything you has ever felt. His movements became more confident, his body pressing against yours with a rhythm that had you gasping for air.

"Luigi," you moaned, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. His hands gripped your hips, his touch firm but gentle as he moved inside of you. The tension, the rivalry that had always driven you, seemed to melt away, leaving only raw, unfiltered passion.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was tender. Your tongues tangled, the taste of him mingling with the sensation of his body moving against yours. The world outside ceased to exist, the night fading into a blur of sensations and emotions.

You could feel the pressure building inside you, a coil of heat that threatened to unravel at any moment. His movements became more erratic, his breathing ragged as he whispered your name against your lips. "I'm close," he gasped, his voice filled with need.

"Me too," you replied, your hands clutching at his back. The tension inside you snapped, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you cried out his name. He followed soon after, his body tensing as he found his release, his voice a low, guttural moan against your neck.

For a moment, you lay there, your bodies tangled together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Then slowly, he pulled away, his eyes meeting yours.

"So... that just happened," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

The reality of what you had just done began to sink in, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. “I’ve never tough it will be with you." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

— End of summer back to university —

Back at university, it was as if nothing had changed. You still argued in class, still traded barbs at parties, still acted like you couldn't stand each other. But behind closed doors, in the privacy of Luigi's dorm room, it was a different story.

His room was small and cluttered, with textbooks piled on the desk and posters of his favorite bands peeling off the walls. But to you, it was your sanctuary. The place where you could let go of the act and just be with him. You'd sneak in late at night, careful not to be seen, and he'd be waiting for you, his lips claiming yours the moment the door clicked shut.

Tonight was no different. You were lying on his bed, his arms wrapped around you as you traced circle patterns on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your fingertips, and the room was filled with the soft sound of his breathing.

"We can't keep doing this," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

You froze, your hand stilling on his chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to hide this anymore. I don't want to pretend like I don't love you when we're around other people."

Love. The word sent a shiver down your spine. You'd both danced around it, never saying it out loud, but hearing it now made your stomach twist with both fear and longing.

"I don't care what they think," he said fiercely, his eyes locking onto yours. "I love you. I want the whole world to know it."

You shook your head, sitting up to face him. A smile tugged at your lips as your heart pounded in your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

"You mean that?" you asked softly, searching his face for any hesitation.

He didn't waver. "Of course I do."

Relief and warmth flooded through you, and without another thought, you cupped his face in your hands, leaning in until your foreheads touched.

"Then let's tell them," you whispered. "I love you too."

A large smile appeared in his face.

"No, I love you." He bids.

"Don't start a competition again..."

"Because you'll lose." He adds his smile still on his face.

Thanks you for reading all this ! If you have a request just ask I will do my best ! Which you all the best ! Love.

[missmarveledsblog]

THE BABYSITTING TRAP (18+)

Summary:  the gang made  a plan to set steve up and Y/n hopper up, did they expect it to go so well ?

Warning : smut , soft dom steve , praise kink , daddy kink , hair pulling   , spanking just steve unleashing his inner eddie to be fair . also everything nancy did and tension during season 4 we're just going to pretend it was us instead.  steve being fluffier than his hair . this is 18+ minors not welcome

As far as failed night go , he was starting to think this was possibly could be the best night of his life.  All he had to do was well  tell her how  he felt . which kinda was hard to do watching to move around her trailer wearing his t-shirt  making them popcorn  to watch a movie alone , together . the girl of his dreams , one that stood by everything , one who appreciated him .  little thing she would do told him as much  when they were hanging as group. she stop them teasing him about his failed love life , made sure eddie didn't eat his favourite snacks if he was running late , hell even having his favourite snacks there .  how she would actually listen to what he had to say during the whole upside down situation .  checking his wounds and making sure everything was healing  or cleaned properly.  how when he was pulled under water she was straight in after .. maybe shit he was idiot . the kids were right and it was right in front of him the whole time . he for once didn't think of his action , when she came over he helped her with placing the things down not before pulling her on to his lap and  cuddling her close , god her giggles made his day, a melody he could listen to on repeat he was sure of it .  " what has gotten into you harrington, not that i'm complaining  " her smile , that damned smile could make anyone's day brighter  . " something that took me way too long to do " he said proud his voice didn't squeak or waver  . " and what would that be " god he had the usually confident teasing yet kind and caring y/n nervous.  " taking that step   ,  a step we both wanted , to finally stop kidding myself and finally go after the girl i want so bad it physically hurts sometimes , making sure no one can take her away " he smiled leaning up and capturing her lips with his .  she wanted to punch herself the shit she  used to say about how ridiculous movie kissing was bullshit . she could literally eat her words with how wrong she was .  how his lips against hers felt like they were meant to be there . two puzzle pieces connect to reveal the whole picture. souls reconnecting after eternity searching for  each other , nerves coming to life , fire work the lot . 

Needing air they reluctantly pulled back , both shit eating grins on there faces .  " about time harrington i was beginning to lose hope " she sighed dramatically head falling against his chest. " hey you could have said something you know " he defended finger lifting her chin to make her eyes align with his . " maybe i was scared " she bit her lip which wasn't a lie  , she'd been the same telling the group they were seeing things .  " well i was was terrified , i mean imagine losing this beautiful , kind , sweetheart , kinda an asshole sarcastic woman and one of my best friends because i told her i love her so much it drive me insane" he bared it all everything he was feeling over the years . " wait love " she sat up looking at him fully searching his eyes  making sure it wasn't some stupid prank between him and the kids or eddie .  " love like full blown burn the world down for you love " he  repeated .  what words failed , actions didn't she crashed her lips against his  hungrily showing him how much she loved him , how he made her go on when she thought she couldn't , how he gave her the strength to fight when she felt weak . steve harrington held a place in her heart  since the moment she met him , those puppy brown eyes had her locked , hook , line and sinker .  she pulled the back of his neck in a bid to get closer , while her skin burned with a need  only he could satisfy .    a quick turn of positions and she was now straddling the man she dreamed about for so long .  steve kissed back harder like she was his only source of oxygen while his hands land on her hip pulling her closer .  like it was on instinct her hips rolled making the man  under let out the sexiest almost primal moan she had ever heard . it was surreal she had steve the hair harrington moaning beneath her .   " if we gonna do this baby girl then we are going to need that bed of yours " a husk almost whisper against her ear making her whimper. steve harrington made her  give out the neediest whimper  something she wasn't aware could happen.  " take me to bed steve " she moaned feeling his strain against his jeans . 

without be breaking the kiss , he lifted her effortlessly up off the chair , holding her steady as he kissed down her neck  the t-shirt he love seeing on  her was now in his way . she could feel her skin almost burn with desire pulling the shirt over her head showing  the pink lace bra hiding underneath . " i definitely died and now in heaven" he teased kissed down her chest as he hand pushed her bedroom door open and kicking it closed . laying her softly on the bed as she pulled her shorts off . " eager are we " he smirked seeing the lust blown eyes , kiss bitten lips and it was all for him .  " please steve fuck touch me , kiss me do something " she kneeled before him pulling him by his waist band .    "yeah i died and this is heaven " he growled pushing her on her back while giving her almost a bruising kiss .  licking , biting down her neck as he unclasped her bra sitting up to admire her , the dream he had were nothing in comparison to the real deal. " fuck you are so beautiful baby girl " his hand giving teasing pinches to her now hardened peaks .  " oh you like that huh baby" he grin bowing his head . at first it teasing kitten licks , before a hiss broken moan came from her lips feeling him sucking and  biting her nipples soft mouth making her core throb with a need . her panties drenched at the way he handled her in such as short space of time.  she felt a fire burn deeper when his kissing began to continue down her body .   even touch of his lips felt like her wildest dreams coming to life yet it still wasn't enough she needed more of him , all of him . " can i take these off"  he asked a false coyness lilt to his deep husky voice. " fuck yes please i need you " she whimpered . " oh baby girl daddy's gonna take care of you , be a good girl and sit back while i eat this little pussy of yours,  can you do that " fuck this was definitely a dream ." yes daddy i'll be good " .   she hissed feeling his finger sliding up and down painful slow yet not even where she wanted . " all this for me such a good girl ..mmm you taste fucking heavenly i knew you would my sweet beautiful girl " he moaned tongue swirling tasting her slick . never did he think he would have her  tasting so sweet on his tongue dancing on his taste buds it was safe to say he was already addicted. " mm fuck daddy " she cried feeling his tongue swirl around her puffy clit sending her head crashing against the pillow  the pulling his hair and her back arching at the sensation . steve harrington ate pussy like it was a five course meal and his last meal all in one . she felt her coil tighten and windup so tight she almost screamed when it snapped making his actions faster lapping up her orgasim . " fuck i'm doing that daily fucking hell baby you taste so good " he groaned wiping her juices from his face.  

" now i need to be in that pussy because i near damn came in my fucking boxers like a little virgin , can i fuck you my sweet girl " he smiled down seeing her blissed out face.  she couldn't speak all her mind consisted of was him and him needing to be inside her . " too cock drunk speak  that's ok daddy will take care of you " he growled teasing his cock through her folds coating him up ,underestimating his own control but slowly he began pushing in , feeling the softness of her walls  it was like she was made for him and him  alone .  she couldn't help the pleading and begging that flew out of her mouth nor if someone told her this would happen she'd laugh in their face yet here she was doing just that  .  " FUCK" she cried as he began to thrust hitting spots in her body she never knew where there ,  her nails  scraping down his back in a bid to pull him closer anyway she could but what surprised her most was when he pinned her hands above her head , fucking her into the mattress like it was his main goal in life  turning her on more that she even thought was possible . babbles and moans filling the room along with the filthiness spewing from the  mans mouth .  " daddy fuck just like that " she cried wanting to grab him but hell even the restricted movement made it better somehow. he let go of her hands gliding them down pinching her nipples as he passed them before he began circling her clit  . " we cum together baby i can feel it  " he growled as she clenched around . " now " his thrust sloppy then she felt his cum filling her up painting ever part of her cervix as she herself clenched down milking ever part of it .  " fuck that was...." she panted . " totally happening every chance we get .. i totally agree" he joked pulling out of her. " steve you know i love you too right .. so much it drives me insane " she leaned up lasily kissing him as he pulled her to his chest .  

bonus : 

" i'm not going in there but it's safe to say the plan worked and dustin is traumatise " robin nodded face in pure disgust. " who knew harrington was a kinky fuck " eddie smirked . " can we please just go " dustin whispered . " come on we can get the money of steve for therapy " robin led him toward eddies van . " HARRINGTON YOU ARE MY HERO " eddie yelled in . " munson come on before henderson barfs in your van " robin hissed. 

[yanwriter-archive]

Can I request a yan! Soap, Ghost, and König all liking the same reader? Maybe they have a shared dislike for a new soldier trying to hit on her

Three stones, one bird.

Warnings: Obsessive love, Gore, manipulation

God must have cursed the blood in your veins for you to have caught the attention of three violent, scary, men like Soap, Ghost and König. Whether you think they could share is up to your personal wants, but once an outsider comes in view, especially someone as lowly as a rookie recruit? Their plans are now on hold until this problem is taken care of.

Soap is the most vocal of his distaste at first. It comes off of a casual jealousy, and it can even be seen as cute or silly. Yet, the pure hatred in his eyes tell a whole different story then what he lets on.

König tends to let it boil inside. Honestly, if you didn't see how intense his stare was when you were talking to them, you wouldn't know at all how he was feeling. That's how he wants it.

Ghost understands, he really does. Being on base so long and seeing someone as attractive as you? He can't fault them at all. But his tightly closed fists hovering over his knife when the recruit gets a little too close reminds them that it doesn't matter if he understands.

Now, the recruit still proceeds. Does he really think he can go up agist them? That he actually has a chance? Or is he just stupid. It really doesn't matter, because they take it as a threat.

-

The night is dark, and the chilly air slowly seeps into the building, leaving a draft. The hallway is dim, and most people have already left. You would have left too if the new recruit, Kevin, hadn't stopped you.

"Sorry, you're probably in a hurry to get back," he chuckles softly.

You shake your head. "It's okay, what did you need?"

"Well, I just wanted to..." His eyes raise up and he notices someone behind you. Before you can look, he continues in a much more confident manner. "Would you like to go out this Saturday?"

You pause to think about it. "Yeah, okay, sounds like fun!"

He glances back behind you, a prideful look in his eyes.

"Great! I'll text you the information!" He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your knuckle. "Until then, love." He leaves, giving a wink to the person behind you.

You turn to leave, realizing that Simon was behind you.

"Sorry! Didn't see you there!" You give a polite smile and head on your way.

Simon stays there for a while, his dark eyes lacking any emotion.

Ah, so not only is he an idiot, but he also thinks he has a chance and wants to brag about it.

Simon waits for a moment more before pulling out his phone.

-

Kevin awakes at the loud bang at his door. Slowly, he walks to the door. He knows who it is. You can't flirt with Ghost's interest and get away with it, but he knew that. Kevin almost laughs at how predictable Ghost is.

"I was wondering when you were going to show-" His words were knocked out of his mouth as soon as his door was opened. He didn't predict that Soap and König would be on the other side.

Blood leaked out of his mouth where soap had hit him, and he wondered if he really did fuck up.

"What happened to your smugness? Thought you were askin' for a fight?" Soap stepped into his room. "I've been wantin' to do this for a long while." Soap says, stretching out the word long.

"Pathetic." König's voice rung out, rattling Kevins body. "You thought you were actually good enough for them? You aren't even good enough to feed the worms that live underneath the soil they stand on."

"Are you seriously doing this because of one person? You're fucking crazy." Kevin spits out some blood, "Listen I'm sorry, I was just trying to bang a hot-" His voice was cut off once again by soap's fist, sending him lying on the floor.

"Maybe you only hang around sleezy people, but they aren't somethin' you just bang." Soap sends another punch, this time sending two teeth down Kevin's throat. "Scum."

His scream rings out as König's heavy boot comes down on his leg, a sicking snap following. "It's also unforgivable if you say that you just want to fool her and break her heart."

The sheer force of König's stomp had broken his leg in half.

A new voice appears, as loud footsteps enter the room.

"You learn your lesson?" Simon questions, his eyes holding that same look as before.

"Yes! Please stop, please!" Kevin cries out.

"Good." Simon reaches a hand for Kevin to take. He grabs it, hoping to be pulled up and brought to get help, but his hope is crushed when Ghost yanks him, twisting his arm and swiftly breaking it too.

"Stay the fuck away from them."

-

You were feeling sour as Sunday arrived. Kevin had gotten into a fight with another new recruit and ended up with a broken arm and leg. On top of that, he would rather run away than admit that he completely ignored you all week.

Your mood shifted when Soap suggested hanging out with Ghost, König, and him. That sounded better than spending time with someone like Kevin. Besides, you always felt safer when you were with them.

At least that's what they wanted you to think.

A/N Note: I'm not feeling this one, but I figured I post it anyways.

[rowdyluv]

A Little Attention

summary: in which ethan and y/n are arguing heatedly, turns out it’s over something simple if only she would’ve said something

word count: 3.93

warnings: ⚠️MDNI 18+⚠️, smut smut smut, unprotected p in v, rough, moderate-a lot of foul language, fem!receiving oral, fem!receiving fingering, bit vivid

notes: hi there 👋🏼. this was written for @mommahughes19-23 for her birthday (everyone tell her happy late birthday 🥳) i feel it is one of the most vivid pieces I’ve ever produced smut or not. seriously no minors, if anyone can tell me how to age restrict it please message me 🥲

Ethan's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his knuckles white with the effort of containing his rage. Y/n's eyes flashed with a fiery defiance that matched the heat of his own. They stood in the living room, their voices rising and falling like the crescendos of a tumultuous symphony. Their words were sharper than the knives in the kitchen drawer, each one a deliberate strike aimed at the heart of the other. The air had unspoken accusations and a tension that could be sliced with a child’s toy knife.

"You never listen to me!" Ethan's voice echoed through the apartment, bouncing off the walls and ceiling.

"And you never understand!" Y/n shot back, her own volume rising to meet his.

Their argument had been brewing for days, a slow brew of unspoken resentments and misunderstandings. It had finally reached a boiling point, spilling over into a confrontation that neither had seen coming. Ethan's eyes searched hers, looking for a crack in the armor of her anger, a glimpse of the softness he knew lay beneath. But all he found was a mirror to his own fury.

Y/n's chest heaved with the force of her words, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to keep up with the pace of the fight. Her cheeks were flushed, not just from the heat of her words, but from the rush of blood that came with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The scent of their shared rage filled the room, a heady perfume that seemed to thicken the air around them.

"All you ever do is hockey this, hockey that, hang out with this group, hang out with that group," she desperately pleaded, her voice cracking with the weight of her frustration. "When will you have time for me?"

Ethan's anger fizzled at the sound of her desperation. He knew he'd been seeing her less recently, but the insinuation stung more than any slap ever could. He was torn between his love for the sport that had given him a future and the woman who was his present.

The woman who is hopefully his future.

The rage that had fueled him moments ago dissipated, leaving a cold, stark reality in its place. He had never meant to make her feel like she was in second place. He stepped closer to her, his heart pounding in his chest, and reached out to touch her, but she flinched away. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and it was like a punch to the gut.

With a heavy breath out, Ethan realized quickly the fight wasn't worth losing her over. He reached out again, this time with gentle hands that trembled slightly. "Babe," he began, his voice softer than the whisper of a leaf in the wind, "I'm sorry."

Y/n looked at him with sad eyes that spoke volumes. Her anger had not disappeared, but the intensity had given way to a deep sadness that was far more poignant. For a moment, she just stood there, her chest heaving with the weight of her emotions. Then, she turned and started walking up the stairs to his bedroom. The sound of her footsteps on the wooden steps was like a silent scream echoing through the apartment.

Ethan knew he had to act fast but he couldn’t chase after her instantaneously. He couldn't let the argument end like this, not when he felt so much for her. He waited a few moment, giving her space she to collect herself. While allowing himself some time to come together. Then, he followed her, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a drum. Each step he took was like sinking in molasses, slow, deliberate, feeling stuck in time, as if the fate of their relationship hinged on the precise timing of his arrival. Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows timing is always crucial in arguments.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw her silhouette through the slightly ajar door of his bedroom. She was lying on the bed, her back to him, her body a taut bow of tension. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting a warm, intimate light over the disarray of their clothes, a silent testament to the tumult of their emotions.

Ethan approached slowly, his steps measured, each one a silent apology. He slid into the bed, his body careful not to disturb hers. He lay on his side, close enough to feel the heat of her body, but not so close that he could be accused of invading her space. He reached out, his hand tentative as it rested on her hip. Her skin was warm and smooth, a stark contrast to the ice-cold fear that gripped his heart.

For a moment, she remained stiff, unyielding. Then, almost imperceptibly, she leaned back into him, her body melting into his embrace. It was a subtle surrender, a silent acceptance of his apology. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the curve of her body fit against his like a jigsaw piece finding its match. Her breathing evened out, he took that as a good sign.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he whispered into her hair, his voice raw with emotion. "I didn't mean to make you feel less valued, or that I was ignoring you. I've just been caught up in everything, and I know that's not an excuse." He paused, feeling her body tense slightly. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just tell me what you need."

She rolled over to face him. Her eyes searched his, the anger now replaced by a smoldering intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through his body. She reached up, her hand sliding over his jaw, and then down to cover his mouth. The touch was gentle, but the message was clear: she didn't want his words, she wanted action. Ethan's pulse quickened as he felt her other hand begin to trace the line of his collarbone, her fingernails lightly scraping against his skin.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice a low, throaty purr that sent shivers down his spine. "I just missed you so much." His eyes stared right into her, and the depth of her need reflected in the dark lust filled pools. "I just got so frustrated because I needed you, and you weren't there. I needed you so badly, I couldn’t take care of it myself."

Her hand traveled south, slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. The warmth of her touch was like a brand, searing through the fabric to the very core of his being. She teased him gently, her fingertips tracing the outline of his cock, which grew hard and thick beneath her touch. Ethan's eyes rolled back in his head, his breath hitching in his throat. He hadn't expected this, but the sudden shift in her demeanor was like a balm to his bruised ego.

“Y/n,” he shakily breathed out. “Baby, please. You do..”

She cut his words off placing one finger to his lips. “Ethan.” Y/n groaned. “Do not make me go back to my dorm, to my toys that are very much not you.”

Her hand traced his cock again, but this time she stopped and lightly squeezed it. The sudden pressure was like a switch thrown in a dark room, illuminating a hunger in Ethan that was more primal than anything he'd felt before. He took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt his body respond to her touch, his cock swelling and pulsing with the rhythm of his heart.

Without another word, Ethan rolled over her, his body a mountain of heat and need. One arm slid under her, supporting her back, while the other slipped under her shorts, seeking the warmth between her legs. Her thighs parted for him like the pages of a favorite book, revealing the slick wetness that coated her pussy. He groaned, the sound a mix of relief and desire, as his fingers found her clit and began to circle it with an urgency that matched the racing of his heart.

"All you needed was a little attention?" he teased, his voice low and gruff, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Hmm? Was that all it was?" His thumb applied gentle pressure, rolling her sensitive nub in a way that made her eyes flutter closed and her back arch. “You just needed to be a brat and pitch a fit to get my attention?”

"I need more than a little attention," she murmured, her voice thick with need. Her hand slipped down to cover his, urging him to increase the tempo of his strokes. His touch was electric, setting her nerve endings ablaze with every brush against her clit. "Much more," she gasped, as he obliged, his fingers moving faster, pressing harder.

Ethan's mouth found hers in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep, tasting the sweetness of her need. He could feel the tension coiled tight in her body, the way she arched into his touch, begging for more. He broke the kiss, his teeth grazing her lower lip, drawing a soft moan from her. "How much more?" he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“All of you. Please E.” She whimpered.

Ethan growled with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with desire. The roughness of his touch across her body sent a thrill of excitement through her, making her pussy clench around his fingers before he withdrew them. He began to remove her clothes with a purposefulness that was almost violent, ripping the fabric as if it were paper standing in the way of something he needed to claim. Her shirt was the first to go, torn away to reveal her lacy black bra, which he quickly unhooked. Her breasts spilled out, the nipples already erect and begging for his mouth. He didn't disappoint, taking one in his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making her gasp with pleasure.

Her shorts were next, pulled down with one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but a pair of drenched panties. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire wherever it touched. When he reached her panties, he didn't bother to remove them, instead choosing to kiss and lick the fabric that separated him from her soaking wetness. She bucked her hips, trying to get closer, but he held her firm, the restraint only adding to the delicious torment.

Unable to resist her whines any longer, Ethan tore the panties away, revealing her to his eager eyes. He spread her legs wider, exposing her completely to his gaze. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her, the way her pussy glistened with arousal, the way her thighs quivered with anticipation. His dick throbbed painfully, demanding affection, but he held back seeing how he with holding attention from was the reason they were arguing in the first place. This time wasn’t about him.

“I want to taste you, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Tell me how much you want me to make it up to you. Tell me how much you need me too.”

Her eyes snapped open, the desire in them a wildfire that could have burned down the whole apartment complex. “Ethan, please. I need you to fuck me so hard I forget everything else exists. I need to feel you everywhere, to drown in you. I need it rough and intense, just like how we felt downstairs. I want you to fuck the anger and frustration out of us both.”

The words were like a lit match thrown into a barrel of gunpowder. Ethan's control snapped like a dry twig underfoot. He grabbed her hips and yanked her to the edge of the bed, kneeling between her legs. He looked up at her face when his mouth made contact with her pussy. He let out the deepest of deep groans when he watched her eyes roll back slightly.

Her sweet scent filled his nostrils as he tasted her, his tongue delving into her warm, wet depths. She was already so close, her body quivering with the effort of holding back. He didn't bother with gentle licks or teasing strokes; he went straight for the kill, his tongue flicking against her clit with the precision of a snake's strike. She screamed out his name, her legs wrapping around his head, holding him in place.

"Do you want to know what you taste like?" He asked, his voice muffled against her, a smile playing on his lips as he plunged a finger into her, feeling her tighten around him. "You taste like you’re mine." Ethan stated firmly, possessively. His voice filled with satisfaction as she moaned loudly in response. "And I am going to make sure you feel like it too." He adds another finger, pumping fast, his thumb paying close attention to her clit. His tongue alternating out with his thumb. “By the end, you’ll have no doubts baby girl. You are all fucking mine.”

"I'm so close," Y/n whimpered, her body tightening around his fingers. She could feel the orgasm building inside her, a storm ready to break. Ethan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched her, his mouth a wicked smile against her sensitive flesh.

"Good," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "Because I'm going to make you come so hard you'll forget how you were feeling when you were without me, missing me." He took her clit into his mouth, sucking hard as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. She bucked against his face, her nails digging into the bed sheets. The sensation was overwhelming, a crescendo of pleasure that washed over her like a tidal wave. The red flush across her skin a perfect show of the sensation flowing through her.

With a final, brutal tug of his fingers, she came with a scream that was muffled by the pillow she'd bitten into. Her body convulsed, her pussy clenching around his digits as she rode the waves of pleasure. Ethan withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening with her juices. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a smirk that was equal parts arrogance and satisfaction. The taste of her on his tongue was intoxicating, a heady mix of sweetness and desire that made his cock throb with need.

He stood from the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. With a swift movement, he removed his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his hard, thick cock. It bobbed slightly in the warm, lamplit air, a silent demand for her attention. He stroked it a few times, watching her reaction. Her eyes followed the motion of his hand like a hawk tracking its prey, her pupils dilating with each pass.

Ethan climbed back between her legs, his cock pressing against her slick folds. He didn't enter her yet, instead choosing to tease her by rubbing the tip against her clit. She bucked her hips still sensitive from moments ago and trying to force him inside quickly but he held back. He was enjoying an all new type of power play. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just above hers. "You sure you want, uh what was it you said?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper that sent shivers down her spine. He moved to whisper right next to her ear. “Me ‘to fuck the anger and frustration out of us both’ y/n?” Ethan nudge her head to the side with his nose so he had better access to the sweet spot on her neck.

Her breath was coming in short, desperate pants as she nodded frantically. "Yes," she whispered, the word barely audible.

With a predatory growl, Ethan didn't wait, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, effectively opening her up to him. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance, feeling the heat of her desire. He took one final look into her eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he saw was the need for release, the same need that pulsed through him. He slid into her with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt.

Y/n's eyes widened with the suddenness of his entry, her body stretching around him. He didn't give her time to adjust; instead, he began to pound into her with a ferocity that matched the intensity of their argument. Each thrust was punctuated by a grunt of effort, his body moving in a primal rhythm that seemed to echo the beat of their hearts. Her walls tightened around him, the friction almost painful, but he didn't slow down. He was a man on a mission, she asked him for something after being upset with him and he was not going to let her be unhappy with him again.

He reached down, his hand wrapping around her throat, his grip firm but not painful. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice a dark rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air around them. "Do you want me to fuck you like you're mine?"

Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, searched his, and she nodded frantically. The pressure of his hand on her throat only served to heighten her arousal, sending a fresh wave of wetness to coat his cock as he pounded into her. The sound of their bodies slapping together was like a drumbeat that echoed through the room, a rhythm that seemed to sync with the racing of their hearts.

Y/n’s whimpers grew louder, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a claiming of what was his. She could feel herself losing control, her body responding to his every move with a mindless need for more. The sensation was like nothing she had ever experienced before, a heady mix of pain and pleasure that had her teetering on the edge of sanity. The hand that was holding her throat traveled down her body and came to a rest at her lower abdomen. Ethan applied slight pressure. Eliciting a sharp loud moan from y/n. Ethan smirked proudly.

Her eyes were glazed over, her pupils dilated to the point where the color was almost entirely obscured. Her nails dug into his arms, leaving half-moons of pain that Ethan barely felt. All he could focus on was the way her body responded to his, the way she arched into every thrust, the way her pussy clenched around him like a vice. He felt like he could come just from watching her lose herself in the moment.

He slowed his pace, his strokes turning long and deep, drawing out her pleasure like a master artist. His hand found its way back to her throat, his grip firm but gentle, a silent reminder of who was in control. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Look at me while I make you feel this good."

Her eyes snapped to his, the intensity in them making his own pulse race. He watched as she bit her lower lip, her teeth sinking into the plump flesh, trying to hold back the scream that threatened to tear from her throat. He could feel her pussy starting to pulse and squeeze around him, her inner walls fluttering like a bird taking flight.

"Are you about to come for me, baby?" Ethan's question was a low growl, his voice thick with need. The words were a demand, a challenge. He knew she was close, he could feel it in the way her body was tensing beneath his. A quick simple “Uh-huh” was muttered.

With a smirk, he pulled out of her, flipping her over onto her stomach with ease. He grabbed her hips, positioning himself behind her. Her favorite position, their position when they need to be quick or he’s wanting to show her he pays attention. He took a moment to appreciate the view, her round ass in the air, her slick and it’s all for him. The sound of her gasp was like music to his ears when he thrust himself back inside, and he felt her body tense around him as he filled her completely.

She was teetering the edge of her second orgasm and he was veering towards his first.

"You take me so good, baby," Ethan groaned, his words hot and heavy in her ear. "So tight, so wet, like you were made for me." His hands gripped her hips, his thrusts deep and punishing, each one sending a bolt of pleasure through her body. "You look so pretty when you're getting fucked like this, all flushed and desperate for more." He gave her hips a squeeze, he was holding her up. Her legs were shaking too much to keep her up herself.

Without warning, Y/n's body tensed up like a bow string pulled tight, and with a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, she came. Her pussy clamped down on him like a vise, her inner muscles pulsing around his cock in waves of ecstasy. Her nails dug into the bed, her back arched high, and she trembled uncontrollably as the orgasm ripped through her like a tornado. It was the kind of climax that stole her breath, made her vision swim with stars, and left her feeling like she was floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

Ethan watched her shatter with a mix of pride and need. He felt her pussy milk him, and it was all he could take. With a roar that seemed to echo through his very soul, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go. His hips bucked against her as he emptied himself inside her, filling her up with his hot, sticky come. Each pulse of his release sent a new shock of pleasure through her, making her orgasm last longer, making it even more intense.

As the waves of pleasure receded, Ethan pulled out of her gently, collapsing onto the bed beside her. He rolled onto his side, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving. He reached out, his hand shaking slightly, to trace the line of her jaw. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and he felt a fierce surge of love for her that could bring him to his knees.

Y/n turned her head to look at him, her eyes still glazed with the aftermath of her climax. A soft, sated smile graced her lips, and Ethan felt his heart swell in his chest. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, tasting the salt of her skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Always." He paused and thought about what to say for a moment.

“Just next time, talk to me about how you’re feeling before you get a moody and bratty because you need dicked down. I’ll happily do it, but…” He stopped talking to push some hair out of her face. “But y/n/n, sex isn’t everything in a relationship, I can give you physical affection in many forms. Not that sex isn’t great, I don’t want it to be everything with us. Okay, baby?”

She gave him a genuine, gentle smile reaching out to hug him. She was so desperately, hopelessly, in love with him it was painful at times, but he was so worth it.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

- anon

Ewan as Martin in the Fontaines D.C. music video "in the modern world" with the song "emo boy" by Ayesha Erotica specifically with the lyric "he may not look like he gets bitches, but honey that dick was 11 inches", would it be okay if you could write something based off of this? i know it's super vague but i'd like you to have some freedom with this request and let loose and write whatever comes to mind with this as the basis of the smutty, slutted–out oneshot/blurb/drabble (whatever writing form you'll use x)

Modern world and modern love

Martin x girlfriend! reader

warning : +18, smut, mentions of wounds/blood, pain play, body whorship, fluff/comfort

Summary : In a modern world it's hard to be sure of anything, he knew and she knew but while she helped with pain Martin needed the pain a difference between them that brought them both together again and again in the early hours of the morning in a heated encounter of love, lust and pain.

info : thank you very much for the request dear anon i thank you for all the freedom and hope you like how it comes across, enjoy reading and have a nice day :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was always the same in the city, you woke up, went to work, the day passed you by and at the end of the day when the sun went down you were already back in bed trying to sleep.

A never-ending cycle of doing nothing and living and yet feeling nothing, something almost everyone knew about but only a few could do anything to feel something again.

They existed together, a nurse and he a dark spot in the night, a sentient young man who ‘helped’ others to feel again in a way that may have seemed unusual but in a city where there was infinity it was necessary.

A nurse in white to contrast with his black who cared for the victims and made them realise with hope that there was always something to feel…until she always came back to her heart in the morning hours.

The sun slowly faded and then the foggy city with the heavy clouds loomed, a car pulled up in front of his house, the lights of the headlights always pointed at his room, showing him for a moment that she was back, that she would be with him again as soon as the lights went out and he heard the front door key.

,,I'm back!" her voice echoed through the house but only reached his ears which still seemed to be ringing from the punches, kicks and choking he thought he could barely hear his own voice as he returned a mumbled ,,I missed you” and heard her take off her shoes and hang up her coat before heading towards the bedroom.

The squeaking of the door like the ticking of a clock seemed to be the same every time and yet he didn't straighten up he lay sideways looking at the slowly brightening window ,,Oh I missed you too my bat" she mumbled her mood more cheerful than his it was always like a sun coming back to him and his gratitude for her was almost greater than the love between them.

The bed squeaked as she lay next to him her gentle hand over his body he had just laid down as well the smell of disinfectant, blood and rain seemed to cling to them ,,I'm sorry" he said as he winced the cracked knuckles ached as her fingers touched them but she just grinned gripped his hand tighter hearing the sharp intake of his air not afraid but excited for what was to come.

It was always the same every time she came back he lay there on the bed messy hair, cracked knuckles, bleeding lips and scratches on his face that were as dark as the strangulation marks around his neck and in return she did what always brought him back to loving him now.

She let her hands wander slowly over him, cuddling her upper body against him, pulling lightly at the strands of his hair, she would comb them later and braid them a little, ,,You seem happy," Martin realised and his slightly trembling hand stroked her cheek, leaving a slight hint of blood behind as she cuddled her head in his hand, his coldness still seeming to cling to him, the night not wanting to leave him.

She nodded, running her hand over the choke marks on his neck and told him how she had treated a few sex workers in the last few hours and they had associated her with him, ,,They seemed almost embarrassed to ask but they wanted to know if I was sleeping with you," she said and couldn't help but laugh when she saw that Martin was laughing too and his hands held her tighter, it had happened somehow since she had seen Martin on her night shift at the hospital.

He had been hanging around outside too unsure to go in until she had intercepted him another night and just fixed him up since then it was like an unofficial rumour that they were like sun and moon together but someone like Martin with blood on him was hard to imagine that he could do something so intimate for some.

The cool tip of his nose touched hers as he asked her, ,,What did you tell them?‘ curiosity resonated in his voice as she felt his hands wandering under her shirt, pain and lust close together that they both knew, ,,Honey that dick was 11 inches" she said in a proud tone and an almost proud grin came to her lips before his lips captured hers in a long awaited kiss.

Martin opened her bra and the two of them kissed again and again, pulling the clothes off her body, she wanted his coldness and he needed her warmth he needed her softness she was different from the pain and his pain he had for her was something hard in a soft environment.

The more fabric the two lost the more different they became blood and colourful wounds on his body seemed to become more and more and her kisses barely kept up as she kissed his wounds, her hands pressing on them his moans filled the room as his hands explored her perfect body.

Not a single mark, scar or blood to be found on her was an angel who never seemed to be in pain, a thing that excited him, that he wanted to claim and that he loved when his dirty bloody fingers were on her, massaging her soft breasts, he could see exactly how she closed her eyes in pleasure, presenting her body for him, her lips moaning his name when he caused her anything more than pain.

,,Need-Need…you’ she breathlessly released his rough hands buried themselves in her hair and pulled her into another kiss his centre rubbed lightly against her thigh a shudder seemed to go through both their bodies a taste of what they would both get.

A throaty moan left her as his fingers lightly pinched her nipples she held herself against him trembling her fingernails pressed against a blueflecne making him moan too the pain he had was her arousal.

The knowledge that she was the other half of both of them was like a mirror that was reflected when they were together, ,,I'm here, dear," he hugged her from him so that she could be beneath him as much as he liked it when she put her hands around his neck when she rode him, he seemed to crave her completely today.

Her hands clung to the dark duvet as he kissed his way up her leg, caressing and cherishing every centimetre of her, ,,Perfect" she heard his voice every now and then he heard the lobe miest in front of him babbling barely audibly and yet full of love as he kissed his way up to her centre, her hands gently cupping his face, ,,I want you" she said to him as he overcame the moment to kiss her again as his hands went to her hips, taking the position they both wanted and entering her.

The kiss was punctuated by muffled moans and grunts as the feeling of familiarity seemed to be ever new her hands clutching at him he helped her through the moment with kisses and praise massaging her flesh scratching over his injuries before he saw her head nod slightly ,,I'm-only yours" he replied before he began to move still slightly cautious her hands still holding onto him at the beginning seeking the support that was hardly needed.

Her sounds were his spur her lust veiled gaze met his bright eyes the dark ones seemed dark with lust and blood he lost himself in her is one hand placed on her hip her body adjusting to his rhythm but never too firm he would never harm his heart, an angel, ,,Ahh-fuck my pretty shadow" her lips trembled as her body was once again reminded of his size and width she held onto him lightly.

Enjoying his touch as he used his other hand to cup her breasts and she massaged the mottled spots with her squeeze, the red of the blood resembling the warmth between them, the wet shudder running through the man's and woman's bodies as she wrapped her legs around his hips as she began to feel the pull in her abdomen, the tingling in her nipples and his thrusts that slowly became uncontrollable, the lust that seemed to merge the two more and more.

,,I'm here," she heard a mumbled, unspoken phrase somewhere between the moans, whimpering and grunting as she moved quickly, this time entangling him in a kiss, her hands scratching his back, his throaty moan resembling hers as he let go of her sleeve and ran his hands over the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing her to squeeze her back slightly, the intense feeling of arousal overwhelming both of them.

She could almost feel the twitching of his shoulders and his eyes, which seemed to darken further from the lust despite the increasing brightness outside, they were both close to climaxing, ,,I-I gonna fuuck cum," he heard her murmur and felt him pull her closer to him, the thrusts becoming faster but more intense, the closeness almost unbearably hot, threatening to engulf them both before their loud moans echoed through the house.

His pain mingled with her softness and vice versa the moans of two lovers as he held her close and she heard his own twitching as their bodies leaned together, shaky hands holding each other, murmured praise and sloppy kisses reaching cheek and lip.

The rays of the morning sun slowly fell on them both and they saw the beauty of each other an angel in white with wings of healing and a shadow with a bloody body merged for another night with the words they exchanged I love you before they lay together safely under the covers and would stay in this room together until the angel flew away and the shadow struck again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Healing Bonds

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader(Past)

Summary: You find Yelena after Natasha, your ex-lover, has passed and you feel like it's your duty to keep Yelena close. What happens though when feelings rise up for the blonde Russian?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Lots of angst and hurt

A/N: So This idea had come to me after rewatching Endgame, Black Widow, and Hawkeye so here you go.

The first time you met Yelena Belova wasn't until after her sister and your ex-lover, Natasha Romanoff, died. Natasha had always talked about Yelena and how much she loved her. You cried when you first laid eyes on Yelena. The two looked nothing alike, and you were thankful for that because you don't think you could look at her if she did.

When you told Yelena who you were to Natasha, she cried, wishing for a million different scenarios in which her sister was still here with them, and all you could do was hug Yelena, which earned you a handful of punches. You learned quickly that Yelena could be a very violent person when dealing with certain emotions. The first time it happened, you let it. You let her get her aggression out.

"It's not fair! You had so much time with her! You got to be happy with her! Me? I got a mission that almost got us killed after 20 years of silence!" She yelled, and you just held her tighter. "I'm sorry, Yelena," You whispered over and over and over.

In those moments, as her fists collided with your body, you could feel the pain in her words. It wasn't just about Natasha's death; it was about the years lost, the missions that tore them apart, and the void left by the silence between them. You understood Yelena's anger, even if it was directed at you. It wasn’t as if she could direct it at the person she wanted to.

As the punches subsided, she finally collapsed into your arms, exhausted from the emotional storm that had consumed her. You sat there in silence for a while, the weight of Natasha's absence hanging heavily between the two of you. The room felt colder, emptier, and you couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at you.

"I wish she had more time with you too, Yelena," You said softly, your words barely audible. Yelena didn't respond, but her grip on you tightened, seeking solace in your shared grief.

In the aftermath of that turbulent encounter, the two of you began a journey of healing together. You were bound by the love you had both lost, and as the two of you navigated the tangled web of emotions, a new connection formed. A connection born out of pain, but one that held the promise of understanding and, perhaps, even redemption in the face of the losses you both endured in the wake of the Snap and beyond.

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You ended up taking Yelena home with you, offering her a permanent place by your side. She continued going on missions, which you had expected. The first time she left without telling you, and there was no note. You thought you'd lost her forever, sitting on the back porch in the summer evening air, your Y/H/C hair whipping around you as silent tears fell.

You didn't hear her come in, not until she was next to you did you notice her presence. "Why are you crying?" Her accent, thick and familiar, filled your ears as you grabbed her, pulling her in tightly, close, your heart hammering in your chest. "I thought I'd lost you too... don't... don't fucking do that again, Yelena!" You yelled at her, your voice trembling as tears flowed freely.

Yelena's expression softened as she held you, understanding the fear that gripped you during her absence. "I had to go. It was a last-minute mission, and I didn't want to wake you," she explained, her words a mix of apology and reassurance.

"It doesn't matter. Just... just tell me next time, please," You pleaded, your grip on her not loosening. The relief of having her back overwhelmed the anger that had fueled your outburst.

Yelena nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I promise. I'm sorry for making you worry," she said, her voice soothing. The two of you stayed there, entwined on the porch, the summer breeze carrying away the tension that had momentarily fractured your newfound connection.

From that day forward, Yelena kept her promise. She would leave for her missions, but not without a word or a note, ensuring that you wouldn't have to endure the heart-wrenching uncertainty of her absence again. In the quiet moments between her departures and returns, your bond deepened, and the scars of your shared losses began to heal, one mission at a time.

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You decided to form a company a little over a year after Natasha died, the weight of her absence still heavy in your heart. Standing at her grave, you whispered into the wind, "I'm going to start a company. I don't want to be an Avenger anymore. Not without you, but I can help others. I know I can." The breeze felt like Natasha's touch, a comforting caress that seemed to echo her approval.

"Yelena and I have been living together for six months now, Tasha. She's exactly as you described. A spitfire and a brat at times. I don't know if you can forgive me or not when I say this, but I could see myself with her. She's my type, a power bottom with a bratty side." You chuckled as the wind picked up. "Okay okay... I understand, only if she moves first," You whispered, as if seeking Natasha's consent in the elements around you.

Your company started up with few hiccups. You planned on making a business out of seeking out people with powers and talents that could be considered Avengers, teaming them up with a manager. Eventually, you aimed to expand to other countries, each with its own headquarters. The goal was to create a network of skilled individuals, ready to defend against threats on a global scale.

You envisioned a world where those of you left in America could stay here unless faced with a Thanos-level threat, something you fervently hoped would never happen again. The legacy of the Avengers would live on through this new venture, a tribute to Natasha and a commitment to protecting a world that had lost so much but still held the potential for hope and resilience.

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You come home to find Yelena sitting on the couch with a pot of mac & cheese covered in hot sauce, using a too-big spoon. "Y/N! I made mac & cheese! Would you like some?" she asks, and you’re too exhausted to yell at her. You sit next to her, taking the spoon and eating some. "How was your day?" she inquires.

"Stressful, Lena. More and more people are learning about my company, and we're getting more and more applications," You reply, leaning your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You hear her set the pot down on the coffee table before she curls up against your side. "Anything I can do?" she asks.

You remind yourself of the promise you made to Natasha. "Whatever you think sounds good. You've known me for over a year now, Lena. What is it that you think I want? What will make me feel better?" You don't open your eyes or look at her. you’re testing her, and she knows it.

You feel her shift off the couch, and you clench your fists. She's never going to make the first move as you fiddle with the band on your ring finger—the one you haven't taken off since Natasha gave it to you.

Yelena returns with a blanket, draping it over both of you. "How about a movie night? We can just relax and take a break from all the chaos," she suggests, her voice soft. It's a simple gesture, but the warmth of her presence and the consideration behind her words start to ease the tension within you.

You nod, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, that sounds good, Lena," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe in that moment, amidst the mac & cheese, the too-big spoon, and the movie night proposal, you found a way to let go, even if just for a little while.

Yelena picks the movie while you change into pajamas, a tank top and shorts. You notice her eyes on your body, but choose to ignore it for the time being as you make popcorn and pour us some vodka sprites. Carrying the drinks and popcorn over, Yelena has picked out John Wick. You can’t help but chuckle at the choice as you settle back into the couch. Yelena moves closer, fitting into you like a puzzle piece as she takes your left arm and wrap it around her shoulders. You simply smile at the gesture, sipping on your drink and eating popcorn as the movie plays out.

About halfway through the movie, you feel Yelena absent-mindedly playing with the band Natasha had given you. She's engrossed in the movie, and you watch her, finding her reactions more enthralling than the movie at this point. It's a subtle touch, her fingers tracing the contours of the ring on your finger, and you can't help but be drawn to the way she navigates the emotions tied to Natasha's memory.

As the scenes of John Wick unfold on the screen, you lean your head against Yelena's, savoring the comfort of the moment. Her actions speak louder than any words, and in the quiet intimacy of that movie night, you start to understand that healing doesn't always come from grand gestures or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it's found in the simplicity of sharing a movie, a drink, and the touch of someone who cares. And in those stolen glances and unspoken connections, you find a new layer of solace, a fragile bridge between the past and the potential for a future where happiness is not just a memory but a living, breathing reality.

You whisper in Yelena's ear, "Tasha gave me the ring." Yelena is pulled from the movie, looking down at your hand that she's been playing with. "It was a promise ring. She got it for me in Budapest. Saying when things settled down, she'd do the whole down on one knee, and we'd have this beautiful wedding where she'd wear a black dress instead of a white one. Everyone would be there, and we'd go back to Budapest for our honeymoon. When we'd come back, we'd ask for a safe house where we could just live quietly between missions..."

You don't realize you’re crying until Yelena is wiping the tears from your face. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I'm ruining movie night, aren't I?" You choke on your own sobs, but Yelena just pulls you against her, hugging you tightly. "No, you haven't ruined anything, Y/N. It's okay."

You hold onto her, shifting slightly until she's in your lap, once again feeling like a puzzle piece as we bury our faces into each other's necks. "If you had gotten married, I hope she would have come found me to be her maid of honor... though I don't know how good I'd be at that," Yelena admits.

In that vulnerable moment, amidst the shared pain and unspoken understanding, Yelena's admission brings a bittersweet smile to your face. The weight of Natasha's absence still lingers, but in Yelena's presence, you find a different kind of strength—a strength born out of shared grief, compassion, and the subtle promise of moving forward, even if it's one tear-streaked movie night at a time.

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Yelena wakes you up, gently calling your name and crawling onto your bed. "Y/N... Y/N..." She speaks softly, shaking your arm lightly. In your half-awake form, you turn to face her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face against your chest. You can smell her shampoo, pomegranates, and make a noise of content. "Y/N, I have to go," Yelena whispers.

"No," You refuse, not letting her go. In fact, you hold her a little tighter. "Yes, I must. The widows need me," she insists.

"I really don't want you to go... I worry so much every time you go out that door. I know you're the world's greatest assassin, but so was Natasha before you," You confess. Yelena cups your cheeks. "I'll come back. I promise."

Natasha said those exact words too. You feel the tears in your eyes, spilling over before I have a chance to stop them. They're down your cheeks and running over her fingers. "I know words mean very little. I know Nat said similar words. I'm not leaving, though. I'll come back. It's just freeing more widows that have been found. That's all. It's safe. I promise. None of them come close to my skills."

Yelena wipes your tears and assures you that she'll come back. You know you have to let her go. "Please just come back safe, Lena. Please," You lean your forehead against hers. "I can't do this without you," You finally confess.

"I'll come back. I'll always come back. You can't get rid of me, not anymore. You're too deep into this," Yelena tells you, and you look at her, searching her face. "Lena..." Gods, you want to kiss her so badly just to show her how much you need her, but you promised Tasha...

Yelena leans in, kissing your cheek, almost reaching your lips. It's the first time she's ever kissed you in any way. "I'll be back. A few days, that's all," she reassures, placing another kiss on your cheek before she leaves. She looks at you one last time with a smile before heading out, leaving you there, curled up into a ball and crying. Now, you definitely couldn’t lose her.

The weight of her absence already looms large, and the brief touch of her lips on your cheek lingers like a promise in the air. As you try to gather yourself, the echoes of Yelena's words and the warmth of her fleeting kiss become the anchor in the storm of your fears. You know you must trust her, just as Natasha had asked you to trust her own choices.

In the solitude of your room, you cling to the hope that Yelena will return, that the few days she's away won't stretch into an eternity. The scent of pomegranates still lingers in the air, a reminder of her presence, and you find solace in the belief that your connection, however fragile, will endure the challenges that lie ahead.

"Please tell me you'll count that as the first move, Tasha?" You ask, directing your words to the air as you look at the ring on your finger. There's a moment of silent contemplation, a silent conversation with a memory.

Then, you get up and get dressed, facing the day with a mix of vulnerability and determination. The echoes of Yelena's departure still resonate in your mind, but as you glance at the ring, you find a subtle strength. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but in that quiet acknowledgment, you feel the weight of a promise made, a connection forged, and a future that holds the potential for healing and new beginnings.

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"Yelena kissed my cheek; she almost kissed my lips, actually," You run your fingers across your cheek and the corner of your lip. "She had to go on a mission, and she told me the same words you did before you left me forever. I broke down. I seem to do that quite a bit with her now." You’re looking at Natasha's grave. It has been two years now since she left. "Tasha, I know we had our plans, and I will never forget them, but I want to move on... I need to, and in order to do that..." You pull the ring off your finger, twisting it between your fingers. "I need to give this back to you, darling." You’re trying not to choke on your tears as they flow freely down your face. You wrap it up in a little cloth, a red one, and bury it just a little ways down. "Please be happy for me, darling. You know she'll always treat me right." You are full-blown crying as you kiss her gravestone and head back home, hoping Yelena is finally home.

As you walk away, the weight of the past feels a bit lighter, as if the act of returning the ring is a step towards embracing the future. The pain is still there, the memories still vivid, but in the tears and the quiet goodbye, there's a sense of release and a tentative hope for what lies ahead. You head back home, your heart heavy but with a flicker of anticipation, hoping Yelena's absence will soon be replaced by her comforting presence.

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When Yelena comes back home, she finds you crying on the floor. She picks you up into her arms and holds you as you sob. When you finally come to from your crying session and register that she's back, you cup her cheeks and slam your lips against hers a little rougher than you intend. You soften up a bit when you realize how rough you truly were.

"You're back..." you whisper against her lips.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispers back, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you back in. The two of you kiss, hungry and passionate, as if she's been waiting all her life for this moment. In the embrace of her arms, the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future momentarily fade away. There's only the warmth of the present and the promise of a new chapter, where healing and love can coexist, a testament to the resilience of the heart after weathering the storms of loss.

"Yelena..." You pull back, leaning your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting forever for that," Yelena admits.

"I know you were grieving, so I just wanted to be here for you, and I was never sure if I should act on my feelings," Yelena tells you, and you give her a soft, quick kiss this time.

"I talked with Tasha about it and promised I wouldn't make the first move," Yelena laughs. "When was this?" she questions.

"A year ago at her grave. You were on a mission, and I went to visit her just before starting up the Avengers company. I told her about how I was falling for you and to not hate me for it. The wind whipped around me, and so I promised I wouldn't make the first move. When you kissed my cheek before leaving, I took that as you making the first move. I visited Natasha yesterday and told her about it and gave back her ring. I left it with her so that I could move forward," You explain, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief.

Yelena brushes her thumbs against your tear-stained cheeks and listens to your words. "I promise I'll live up to your expectations. I'll do everything I can to do right by you, Y/F/N," she says, and you chuckle at the use of your full name.

"I know you will, and so does Natasha. I don't think I could be in better hands than yours, Lena," You say, feeling a sense of acceptance and hope for the future. The weight of grief begins to lift, replaced by the promise of a new chapter, and the knowledge that love, even after loss, has the power to mend and rebuild.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

Another show just wrapped up, but a new one takes its place next week. Takara and Mitsuya have really become the bright spots for me in this current run of shows; they make excellent bookends for the week in jql. Of the five shows airing now, four are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

What a fantastic episode of a show that continues to get better and better. The way this story has slowly built our understanding of these characters, and their understanding of each other, is masterful and so rewarding. I really loved the direct conversation they had about Takara's post-graduation plans and what it means for them, as well as Taishin getting to the heart of things and reassuring Takara that his desire is welcome. I'm excited to get a peek at Taishin's family next week and see how they navigate whatever challenges they bring.

Cosmetic Playlover

Farewell to this very pretty show whose story did not make much of an impression on me in the end. It never found a coherent relationship arc or gave us any foundation for this romance to hang onto, and it didn't live up to the dark and sexy tone of its original promotion. But it gave us a lot of beautiful visuals!

I Hear the Sunspot

We've now spent an entire month on repetitive side plots designed to separate and cause insecurity for Kohei and Taichi, and I am over it. I understand that the show is faithfully adapting the manga, but this is the thing about adaptations: when you switch to a new medium you have to adapt the work to fit the new format. When you read a manga you can speed through side plots designed to stretch out the story, but you can't do that in a weekly airing drama. And yes, I have seen the arguments that this is primarily a coming of age story about finding yourself, but it's not doing that well, either. This job falling out of the sky for Taichi and his boss—who we are meant to read as someone with good intentions—encouraging him to drop out of school immediately to work full-time is a strange development. That it once again set off a spiral of Kohei and Taichi feeling insecure about their friendship and misunderstanding each other only makes it worse. I understand the intention: we are supposed to be getting that Taichi is embarrassed about this job because it's tied to his still ill-defined feelings for Kohei. But they haven’t unpacked his hang ups with admitting (or understanding?) that he likes Kohei back enough for that to land. We've spent so much time sitting with Taichi's broody confusion without gaining any deeper insight into its source or seeing him grow, which makes all of this just feel like stalling instead of important character work.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

*sobs* Welp, the penultimate angst has definitely arrived. They distracted me with the possibility of dog death (Frito lives! THANK GOD) before sucker punching me with Mitsuya pre-emptively rejecting Ishida before their relationship could go further. And while I often roll my eyes at this kind of noble idiocy in the penultimate chapter of a romance, I think it's well-grounded in this story. Mitsuya has been worried about whether a relationship between them is right since he learned about Ishida's feelings, and on the heels of this blow about Frito's health and his sense that he burdened Ishida with this problem, he is feeling his age and his melancholy more than ever. He sees Ishida as a bright and beautiful young person that he would only drag down, and he does not yet understand that it was meeting him that brought this out in Ishida in the first place. The way he apologized and berated himself for asking Ishida to stay then hugged himself for that whole horrible conversation said it all. This also sets us up nicely for Ishida to finally make himself clear and do a classic jbl run next week (this show is ending too soon, I'm going to miss it so much). Thanks as always to @isaksbestpillow for providing her wonderful subs so we can all enjoy this beautiful drama. You can find the ep here.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

[atsro-slut]

Hiiii, how's your holidays going? Hopefully you're enjoying them! 🫶 I'd like to ask for Remus x fem!reader, a little mistletoe prompt cause I'm a sucker for those 🤭 But maybe reader has a crush on Remus but thinking that he only sees her as a friend, she doesn't wanna do the mistletoe tradition since she's afraid it'll make him uncomfortable and ruin their friendship? I'd die for that, thank you!! ❤️

Under the Mistletoe

OMG I love this!!!!! Im a sucker for a cutesy little holiday story! I hope you enjoy!!!!!!!!!!

Remus Lupin x female!reader

Y/N has a crush on Remus Lupin and fears the mistletoe at the Christmas party will ruin their friendship. When they end up under it, she must decide whether to take a chance or stay safe.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The Christmas party at Hogwarts was in full swing. The Great Hall was decorated in gold and red, with sparkling fairy lights hanging from every corner, casting a warm, cozy glow over the room. Snowflakes gently fell outside the tall windows, and the scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air as students and professors alike gathered to celebrate the holiday season.

Y/N stood near the punch bowl, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her sweater as she watched the party unfold. She had never been particularly comfortable in large social gatherings, but tonight was different. Tonight, there was a presence at the party that made her stomach flutter in ways she didn’t quite understand. That presence was none other than Remus Lupin.

She had been friends with Remus for years, ever since their first year at Hogwarts. They had bonded over their shared love of books, their quiet nature, and their mutual understanding of what it felt like to be an outsider. Over the years, their friendship had grown stronger, and it wasn’t hard to see why—Remus was kind, thoughtful, and endlessly patient. He had a calmness to him that made her feel safe, a rare gift that only someone truly special possessed.

And yet, there was something more. Something that had been growing inside Y/N for months, something she couldn’t quite name. She was falling for him. Hard.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to confess her feelings, but Y/N had always been terrified of ruining their friendship. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if it made things awkward between them? They had shared so many moments over the years—laughing together in the library, sharing late-night talks about their hopes and dreams, supporting each other through difficult times—but Y/N was afraid that the fragile thread of their friendship could break if she were to tell him how she felt.

And so, she had kept her feelings to herself. At least for now.

“Y/N! Over here!”

The sudden call of her name pulled Y/N from her thoughts, and she turned to see her friend Lily waving her over from the other side of the room. With a small sigh, Y/N walked over, offering a smile as she joined her friend.

“You look stunning!” Lily exclaimed, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re finally here! A Christmas party at Hogwarts—this is so much fun.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “You look great too, Lily.”

Lily, of course, was glowing. She always did. With her bright red hair, radiant smile, and infectious energy, she could light up any room she entered. But Y/N’s eyes couldn’t help but drift to a figure standing by the fireplace—Remus. He was talking to James and Sirius, his warm brown eyes sparkling with laughter, but as usual, there was a quiet shyness about him that made Y/N’s heart ache. He was so perfect, so gentle, and yet completely unaware of how deeply she had fallen for him.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile.

Y/N's face flushed a deep shade of red. "What do you mean?"

Lily smirked. "You know exactly what I mean. Remus. You’ve been looking at him all night."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly averted her gaze, her hands suddenly feeling clammy. "I’m just... admiring the decorations," she stammered, trying to play it off.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. "Sure, sure. Well, you know what they say, right? Under the mistletoe, anything can happen."

Y/N froze. She had completely forgotten about the mistletoe tradition at the party. Hogwarts was known for hanging mistletoe in the most random places, and it was often used as an excuse for students to steal a kiss from their crush. But Y/N wasn’t ready for that. Not with Remus. Not when she was certain that he only saw her as a friend.

“I don’t think I’ll worry about the mistletoe tonight,” Y/N replied, her voice tight. "Besides, it’s just a silly tradition.”

Lily didn’t seem convinced, but she shrugged. “If you say so. But if you change your mind…”

Before Y/N could reply, Lily’s eyes brightened as she spotted someone across the room. "Oh, James is looking for me. I’ll catch you later!"

With a final wink, Lily disappeared into the crowd, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts. The nervous flutter in her chest returned, stronger than before. She needed to find a way to enjoy the party without letting her emotions get the best of her. If only she could stop thinking about Remus and how perfect he was, how much she wanted to be near him, to be more than just friends.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The night passed in a blur. Y/N tried to keep herself distracted, chatting with friends, nibbling on cookies, and participating in a few games. But despite her efforts, her gaze kept drifting back to Remus. He was always so gentle with others, his laugh like music to her ears, his thoughtful demeanor something she couldn’t help but admire. But there was always that nagging voice in her head reminding her that he probably didn’t feel the same way.

“Y/N!”

Y/N turned, startled, and found herself face-to-face with Remus, who was smiling warmly at her. “Oh, hey, Remus.”

“Hey,” he replied, his voice soft and comforting. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk? The snow’s really coming down, and I thought it might be nice to get some fresh air.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. It was just a walk. Nothing more, nothing less. But the idea of spending time alone with him, especially now, when her feelings for him were so overwhelming, made her nervous. Still, she couldn’t say no. Not to him.

“I’d love that,” she said, forcing a smile as she pushed down the wave of anxiety in her chest. “Let’s go.”

They stepped outside into the crisp winter air, the snowflakes swirling around them as they walked side by side. The sound of their footsteps crunching in the snow was the only noise between them, and Y/N tried to focus on the peacefulness of the moment, trying to calm her racing heart.

They wandered along the edge of the castle, the quiet stillness of the night allowing them to talk freely. They discussed everything from classes to their favorite Christmas traditions, with Remus listening attentively, his gentle smile never leaving his face.

At one point, Remus stopped, looking up at the sky. “The stars look incredible tonight,” he said softly. “I’ve always loved the way the snow makes everything seem quieter. Like the world’s holding its breath.”

Y/N smiled, gazing up at the sky as well. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "I’m glad you asked me to come outside. It’s nice to get away from the party for a bit."

They stood in comfortable silence for a few moments, simply enjoying the serenity of the snowy night. Y/N was lost in the beauty of the moment, but then, as if on cue, she heard the telltale sound of someone calling her name from across the courtyard.

“Y/N! Remus!”

Y/N turned to see Lily and James standing by the entrance to the castle, both grinning mischievously. “There you are!” Lily called. “We’ve been looking for you two.”

Before Y/N could respond, James waved his hand toward them. “Come on, you’re not escaping that easily.”

“Escape?” Y/N echoed, her heart sinking in her chest. What was James talking about?

Then, she saw it.

Hanging above the stone archway that led into the courtyard was a sprig of mistletoe, clearly placed for the exact purpose she had been trying to avoid all evening. Her heart rate picked up, and she felt a familiar rush of panic flood her chest.

“Oh, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath. “Not the mistletoe.”

She could already feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. If they were standing there long enough, someone would undoubtedly make a joke, and the whole night would be ruined. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out a way out of the situation. She could pretend she hadn’t seen the mistletoe, make some excuse, but no matter what, the idea of standing under it with Remus made her stomach twist with fear.

Remus, however, hadn’t noticed her discomfort. Instead, he chuckled softly, his gaze shifting from the mistletoe to Y/N’s nervous expression.

“It’s just a tradition, right?” he said, giving her a warm smile. “Nothing to be nervous about.”

Y/N froze. She swallowed hard. “Yeah, but…” Her voice faltered, unsure how to explain. “I don’t want to make things weird, you know? We’re friends, Remus. And if we… if we did the whole mistletoe thing, I just—” She stopped herself, realizing she was rambling.

Remus looked at her thoughtfully, his smile fading just a little. “Y/N,” he said gently, stepping closer. “I promise, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest. Could she do this? Could she let go of her fear and take the step she had been wanting to take for so long?

Without thinking, she found herself looking into Remus’s eyes, seeing the kindness and warmth there. There was no judgment, no discomfort—just Remus, as he always was.

And maybe, just maybe, she could be brave enough to take the chance.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 3

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, angst

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, cunnilingus, missionary, references to rape, dub-con, dom!beomgyu, sub!reader

You’ve decided you were overthinking everything. Your dreams mean nothing. Your dream about Taehyun meant nothing. It was just your stressed brain being weird. Though it was awkward being around him for a couple of days after that dream and feeling that inexplicable feeling of guilt and—you’d never say it outloud–love springs up your throat every time your eyes meet.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to think about it too much today when there is something much more distracting to deal with. 

"What's with your eye?” You ask Taehyun, noting the eyepatch he was wearing. “Is it a stye?" 

He shakes his head, grinning as he pulls the eyepatch aside to reveal a black eye. You gasp. "Oh my god! Did you get in a fight?"

"You could say that.” He shrugs, grin still in full effect. “I'm a wrestler."

“Oh. That is… not shocking.” You frown, making him laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You seem to be the type.” You say as you give him a once over. Despite his sweet and innocent looks, he had a kind of roughness about him that gave him away. “Yesterday when you were helping me with the door of the back room, you nearly ripped it off its hinges.” 

“You said it was stuck so I expected more resistance. I just didn’t account for your chicken arms.” He teases, making you gasp, affronted. “How dare you? Check out these guns.” 

You pull up the sleeves of your shirt, flexing said chicken arms in various wrestler poses. “I bet I can even take you, Mr. fighter.” 

“I bet you can.” Something about the way he says that, low and a little hoarse brings a blush to your cheeks, a certain double entendre you’re not sure he meant hanging in the air, but you decide to just barrel past it. You can’t let your stupid brain keep overthinking the smallest things. You refuse to let in that weird sense of intimacy and familiarity that your dreams have conjured up seep into your reality and your relationship with him. You’re purely coworkers, maybe tentative friends, nothing more.  

“Damn right.” You declare, satisfied. “Now let me take a look at that eye. My mother is a nurse, you know?”

“Is she?” He sits down obediently, letting you examine his eye closely. You start by making sure the eye itself isn’t hurt and that his vision is clear, getting him to follow your finger to test his eye movements and making him read a few things at a distance, before you move on to the possible brain injury. “You didn’t pass out, did you?”

“No.”

“Did you vomit?”

“Nope.” 

“Had any seizures?”

“No.” 

“Do you remember everything?” 

“I wish I didn’t.” He snorted. “Damn bastard floored me with that punch.” 

You wince as you imagine that kind of impact that would bring him down and cause such a black eye. Instinctively, you reach forward to brush your thumb gently under his bruised eye. “Aw, does it hurt?” 

“It feels better now.” He smiles, looking at you strangely, and your heart skips a beat. Okay, surely you’re not just imagining this, are you? Your brain can’t be that much of an asshole. 

But before you can attempt to make sense of the way he’s acting, an angry voice cuts through the delicate moment savagely.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your boyfriend’s voice is like ice water down your back, making you jump away from Taehyun immediately. You turn to him in shock.“Beomgyu! What are you doing here?” 

“Checking in on you, but I’ve clearly arrived at the wrong time.” He spits, eyeing Taehyun angrily, and you quickly realize the source of the misunderstanding, waving your hands in the air in denial, trying to dispel whatever erroneous conclusions you’re sure his mind came up with. Damn it, it’s bad enough dealing with Beomgyu’s jealousy without you unintentionally feeding it. “It’s nothing. I was just checking his black eye. He got injured at a match.” 

“He’ll get another one if he doesn’t step away from you.” Beomgyu threatens and you hear Taehyun snort from next to you. “Yeah, right. As if you could ever land a punch on me.” 

Goddammit, Taehyun. You’re trying to de-escalate things here!

“Wanna see?” Beomgyu growls, rising up to the challenge immediately and charging forward. But you quickly step between him and Taehyun, not wanting a fight to break out in the middle of your workplace. 

"Beomgyu calm down. You’re making a scene." You whisper, noticing how the customers' eyes have turned to you. But of course, Beomgyu doesn’t care, his anger and jealousy getting the best of him. "Am I? I'm sorry, should I wait for you to fuck him on the counter first?"

Humiliation sears your skin at his accusation, said so loudly and easily in front of your coworkers and everyone in the shop. You’re so embarrassed you could cry, but that would only humiliate you further. So you quickly grab his arm and pull him out the back and into the alleyway behind the cafe where no one can see you. 

You can’t believe he’s doing this again. He promised he will get himself under control. You’ve tried to reassure him that you only love him. You’ve tried again and again to put boundaries when he acts out, but then he completely crashes through them with no regard for you. Why should he when you always forgive him and take him back after his abhorrent behavior? It’s your fault. You’ve allowed him to go this far and now he’s out of control. You need to put an end to this.  

"I'm done. This is over. I'll come around later to get my stuff." You tell him, and his whole demeanor changes–all wrath is gone from his face and he turns into a wounded animal in the blink of an eye, shaking his head in denial as his eyes flood with tears. "No. No. You can't leave me. Not again."

"What the fuck are you talking about?” You shout harshly, and he flinches. God, why does that still make you feel bad despite everything he’s done to you? “I never left you. Maybe that's the problem."

“No, please, I'm sorry!” He wails, "I'm sorry I blew up. I'm sorry I made a scene. I just can’t stand to see him with you. I know he wants to take you from me."

His unwarranted conviction drives you mad. Does he really think every single guy is out to steal you from him? "You are insane."

 Another guy would take the hint and dial it down on the crazy, but not Beomgyu. As if to prove that insanity to you, he falls to his knees at your feet, grabbing onto your legs tightly. "Don't leave me. I can't live without you."

"Go home, Beomgyu.” You grit out, trying to hold yourself back from falling for his pathetic display because truthfully you’re just as pathetic as him. It’s easy to be stern and immovable when he’s angry and lashing out, but it’s another thing entirely when he acts so vulnerable. When he’s angry, he’s an asshole who is hurting you, but when he’s sad, he’s your loving boyfriend who just needs reassurance and care. 

"I can't. Not without you.” He insists, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “I need space, Beomgyu.” 

“You know I can’t–” 

“I need space to calm down and forget what you've done so I won't leave you." You snap, finally making him take his hands off you, realizing that though it kills him, backing off for once might be the thing that saves your relationship this time. 

Still he needs that extra reassurance. “Do you promise you won’t leave?” 

“Beomgyu–”

“Please!” He hiccups, hanging onto the thread of hope. “Please promise me that you won’t just leave.” 

“I won’t.” You grits out. You can’t. You wish it was ever that fucking easy to leave him, but he’s got you hooked on him good. 

"Okay." He gets up shakily. "Can I have a kiss?"

Does he not know how to quit? Has he no sense of awareness of the situation? Can’t he tell how much he has pushed you? "No."

You try to be firm in your decision, try to make him take you seriously once and for all, but when you see him sniffle and his lips tremble, it’s hard to stay strong. 

"Please. Just in case." He shakes under your harsh gaze that softens every time his breath hitches as he tries to hold himself together. 

God, this is exactly why he behaves this way, because it always works. 

You grab him by the back of the head, kissing his lips roughly, more teeth than anything, biting down on his lower lip in punishment, hard enough to taste blood, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. He clutches onto you desperately, opening his mouth up for you to thrust your tongue inside, making him taste his own blood. 

It’s a job to get him off you, but eventually you manage to disentangle yourself from him. “Go home now.” 

“Will you come home after work?” He prods, and you run your hand through your hair in frustration. “Is this giving me space?” 

“I just–” 

“I’ll be home by bedtime. I’ll probably walk around or hang out with friends to decompress.” You explain to him, even though you know you really shouldn’t. He has no right to know where you’re going, not after the shit he just pulled but you know he won’t leave you if you don’t reassure him. 

“Which friends? Are you going to–” 

“I have to get back to work, Beomgyu.” You cut him off sharply, unwilling to give him more. Truthfully, you don’t even know what you’ll do. You don’t know if you even wanna hang out with your friends. You can’t handle them telling you ‘I told you so’ for the hundredth time and pushing you to break up with Beomgyu. “I know you want me to get fired so I only have time for you but I actually wanna keep this job.”

He winces at your accusation but you don’t wait for him to defend himself, turning your back on him and walking into the coffee shop. 

Getting back into work is mortifying as you try to dodge the gazes of others that are at best curious and at worst judgmental and accusatory. Most of all, you try to avoid Taehyun, not knowing what to say to him after he witnessed your boyfriend’s outburst against him. 

But it’s hard to hide in such a small shop, and Taehyun is on you just a few minutes after stepping back inside. To your surprise however, he isn’t angry or reproachful. In fact, he doesn’t mention it directly at all.

“Hey you wanna blow off some steam after work?” He asks you, completely casual and you breathe a sigh of relief, nodding. You really could use some stress relief. You know you can’t go home to Beomgyu like this. You’re so mad you’re afraid you’ll do or say something you regret. 

What worries you even more is that you think whatever you would do to him, Beomgyu would take it, and you don’t want to be that person. You don’t want to perpetuate this sickness. 

________________________________

Taehyun takes you boxing. It’s definitely a bit unusual but when he said it would help you blow off some steam, he wasn’t kidding. 

“Hit it harder. Take out all your rage onto it.” Taehyun instructs you, then adds cheekily, “Imagine it’s your boyfriend’s face if you need to.” 

You scoff. If Beomgyu was here, he’d definitely lose it with how close Taehyun is to you, his hands fluttering between your waist and shoulder to correct your position, and wrapping around your arms to teach you how to correctly swing. 

“Like that?” You ask, punching the bag the way he taught you to. You’re not strong enough to have it swinging like he does, but he still praises you for doing it right. 

“Yup, good job. Soon enough you’ll be able to deck Beomgyu in the face.” He jokes and you send him a glare. 

“I don’t want to punch Beomgyu.” You say, delivering another hard swing at the punching bag, putting your full weight into it. 

“Are you sure about that?” He raises his eyebrows, watching you pummel the bag. 

“I’m just frustrated.” You grit, raining punches with both fists until you feel your arms getting sore. “Why does he have to act like such an asshole? He knows I love him. He knows he’s the only one for me. Why is he so insecure? He’s such a fucking idiot. He makes me so goddamn mad!”

You step away from the bag, panting for breath. Clumsily, you push away the sweaty hair out of your face with the gloves still on as you try to calm down your overheated body. “You’re right. This did help.” 

You give the bag one last punch before you take off the boxing gloves and slump onto a chair, exhaustion settling into your bones. You hear Taehyun snicker as he takes your place and starts his exercise. 

You watch him workout. You admit, he looks good doing it. Dressed in a white sleeveless top, his muscles bulge and tense every time his arms shoot forward to smack the bag. The look of concentration on his face and the way his jaw clenches makes him look all the hotter. 

His punches are fast and accurate, and you cringe a bit at the idea of someone being at the receiving end of them, but you still find it attractive. You never got the appeal of the strong, macho man some girls swoon over, always preferring the soft cute types yourself, but watching Taehyun go to town on that punching bag, sweat starting to drip down his glistening skin… you finally get it. 

Apparently, your ogling wasn’t as subtle as you thought, especially when Taehyun pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, revealing his hard abs to your curious eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Taehyun smirks, dropping the shirt back down and you blush, looking away. “Bet he doesn’t look like this.” 

“Shut up.” You grumble, standing up. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?” 

You realize how dry your throat has become and take it as an advantage to get out of this messy situation you’ve gotten yourself in. But Taehyun shakes his head. “You stay put. I’ll go get the drinks.” 

You graciously accept the offer, telling him what you’d like to have, and he dips out of the practice room to get you something out of the vending machine and you take the opportunity to cool off. 

God, what is wrong with you? Do you like Taehyun? Why the fuck are you thirsting like that over him? Ever since you’ve gotten with Beomgyu, you can honestly say you’ve never wanted to be with another man. Beomgyu just fulfilled all your needs, emotionally and physically. Being with him felt like finally finding your other half, your soul’s resting place. It’s cliche but it truly felt like you were made for each other. How can anyone else compare? 

But now that his jealousy and controlling behavior has gotten out of control, you find yourself pulling away from him, the illusion of the perfect one for you slowly shattering by his own hand. Is that why you’re having these weird feelings towards Taehyun? Like Beomgyu, you feel like you’re connected to Taehyun somehow. Despite the relatively short duration you’ve known him, it feels like you’ve known each other for years. You yearn for him in a way you have no control over and you don’t like it. You’re just proving Beomgyu right with his unhinged paranoia. 

Seriously, fuck Beomgyu for putting these thoughts into your head. You were completely fine with Taehyun before he made a big deal out of nothing. 

When Taehyun comes back, he hands you a can of soda and you gladly pop it open, gulping down the cool liquid with relief. 

“So when did you start boxing?” You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way his Adam's apple bops as he swallows. 

“Since I was a kid basically.” He shrugs, explaining further at your questioning look. “I didn’t have the best home life and boxing helped me blow off some steam and got me away from it for a bit.”

“Ah.” You hum awkwardly, twirling the can in your hands. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s alright. I’ve left it behind now, trying to make a life of my own. That is why I was so glad that you told me about the job at the cafe. It’s a chill job that allows me to make some money to support myself and still be able to pursue my studies.” 

“Right. Music. Didn’t peg you for that guy. I mean, boxing sure but didn’t think you’re the artistic type.” You grin, feeling a bit giddy at his faux offended look. 

“Hey, I have a sensitive side too.” He defends, “And I’ve been told I have the voice of an angel.” 

“Someone's humble.” You laugh, and he shrugs. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.” 

“Let’s hear it then, angel.” 

He gives you a look at that, and you open your mouth to apologize, not sure if you’d crossed a line, but then he coughs, clearing his throat a bit and starts to sing. 

I know that sweet love song

The words we said through our oath

If I turn around, eventually

They'll just end up being an unfamiliar someone

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic

I want to run away, far away

My heart is already chasing after you

And burning with small embers

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic

I don't believe anymore in being romantic

As my entire heart burns

I'm afraid that only black ashes will remain

He really does have the voice of an angel, so sweet and soothing. You listen quietly to the whole song, a small smile on your face despite the song’s pessimistic message. But something about his voice tugs at a distant memory in your brain, the feeling like a word on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t quite remember. It’s a disquieting feeling that clashes with the sweet honey of his voice. 

You don’t let it show though. You know he wouldn’t understand. And once he’s done singing, you clap enthusiastically. 

“Thank you. Thank you.” He graciously accepts the applause, a pleased grin on his face. 

“Wonderful. Showstopping. Angelic.” You pour out exaggeratedly and he laughs. “I told you.” 

“You did.” You admit, no point teasing him about his cockiness when you like his voice so much. “I never heard that song before. Did you write it yourself?” 

“Yup.” 

“Now I get how you’re into music if your songs are this dejected.” But you can tease him about the subject matter. You’re impressed with his talent but if you had to come up with a song that Taehyun would compose, it would’ve sounded exactly like this. 

“I’m just being a realist.” He tells you and you cock your head to the side, intrigued. “You don’t believe in romance?”

“No. I’ve seen how it goes too many times and it always ends in heartbreak and tears at best.” 

You frown, finding it sad that his experiences have made him arrive at this bleak conclusion. “It’s not always like that. Some people have happy relationships.” 

“Yeah, do you know of anyone who has an actually happy relationship?”He challenges and you wrack your brain trying to think of one. Your parents? Definitely not. Your sisters? Nope. Your friends? Hah. Still, you refuse to admit it. You’re a hopeless romantic and you refuse to accept his cynical worldview. If love only ever ends in heartbreak then what even is the point of living? “Just because the people I know aren’t the poster children for happy relationships doesn’t mean there are none.” 

“Are you even happy with Beomgyu?” He prods, catching you off guard. 

You were. Things were perfect between you. He was the best boyfriend you could have ever wished for at the beginning. He was so sweet and loving and gentle, being with him felt like coming home, but slowly things started to unravel until it got to the point you’re at right now and you’re too scared to admit that things may never go back to the way they were before. If Beomgyu isn’t the one for you then who is? 

“Shut up and sing more.” You grumble, not wanting to think about it anymore.

Taehyun grins, not pushing anymore, satisfied with his win, and obliges you. He sings a couple more songs for you, each of his own making, and you eagerly listen to him, closing your eyes and getting lost in the warmth of his voice, asking for more every time he finishes. 

He doesn’t complain, performing a mini-concert for you, helping soothe your nerves as you try to focus on his soothing voice and forget about the troubles you’ve been going through with Beomgyu and your confusing feelings for Taehyung.

But all the tension ricochets back into your body when he gets to the fourth song, the small smile you were wearing plummets into a frown and you sit up from your slumped position suddenly. You don’t know what it is about this song. It appears to be a simple lullaby, but just hearing it makes your heart hammer in your chest. 

Taehyun notices quickly and stops singing. “What’s wrong?” 

“Did you make up that song too?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No, it’s a song my mum used to sing me when I was a kid. Why?”

“I don’t know, something about it seems familiar.” You trail off, eyebrows furrowing as you try to recall where you heard it before. 

“I doubt it. My mum made it up.” He says, confused by your sudden change in mood. 

You’re confused too. You don’t understand. You just have this intense feeling of deja vu right now, something you’ve been feeling increasingly more frequently lately. Maybe you heard it in a dream? 

You shake your head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and needing comfort, needing Beomgyu… “Never mind. I should probably get going.” 

You’re mad at him but he’s still the biggest source of comfort for you. He has a way to calm you down even if he’s the one who caused your anxiety. It all works out when it’s just the two of you. It’s only when other people get involved that everything falls apart…

“Already?” Taehyun asks, disappointed, and you look at the clock that says 10:46 pm and sigh. “Yeah. Beomgyu is probably freaking out by now. Even more than he already was.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t go back to him then. You need some proper time away to think things through. You can’t let him keep getting away with this behavior.” He advises, his expression betraying his clear distaste for Beomgyu. Great, another friend who despises your boyfriend. You can’t deal with this right now. 

“He’s just insecure.” You find yourself defending him once again, feeling weary and covering your face with your hands. “I don't know why. it's not like every guy that ever meets me will fall in love with me. You don't even like me.” 

"I do like you." Taehyun says simply and you snap your head up and gape at him. "What?"

He shrugs as if this doesn’t fuck everything up even more. "I like you and I think you deserve better than your shitty boyfriend."

You shake your head, standing up, feeling angry at yourself. Of course, he likes you. Beomgyu smelled it from a mile away. Why else would he be so nice to you? Why else would he care so much to hang out with you and calm you down when he’s probably tired from his shift? This was obviously a mistake and you’re a stupid girl who is playing into it while your boyfriend is probably breaking down at home. "Beomgyu is a good boyfriend. He loves me." 

Taehyun stands up too, getting a bit forceful now. “You’re deluding yourself. What he’s doing isn’t healthy, and he’ll only continue to get worse because you let him.” 

What does he know? How do you know he’s not just trying to break you up with your boyfriend so he could get with you? Beomgyu probably could tell that Taehyun liked you from the start and that’s why he was so averse to you being around him. Obviously that doesn’t excuse how out of pocket he acted today but he still wasn’t completely wrong. 

“I should go.” You mutter, quickly gathering your things. 

“Let me take you home then.” He offers and you snort. Yeah right, like that wouldn’t make Beomgyu’s brain melt. 

“I'll just take an uber.” 

Taehyun attempts to argue but you shut him down. 

_____________________________

Beomgyu is waiting near the door when you get back, curled up onto himself as he rocks back and forth, looking like a broken mess, and your heart can’t help but clench painfully at the miserable sight of him despite everything he’s done. You can’t bear to see him hurt, especially knowing that Taehyun liked you after all and he wasn’t being totally paranoid. 

"You're back!" He stops rocking and untangles his arms from his body. You see the tension in his body, like he wants to spring forward and take you in his arms but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. "I thought I lost you." 

"I'm right here." You sigh, opening your arms up, giving him the signal he needed to stand up and engulf you in his arms. 

“I’m sorry, baby–” He begins his long plea. You’ve heard it many times by now–he’s sorry he acted irrationally, he’s sorry he gets jealous and out of control, he promises he’ll do better– but you’re honestly not in the mood for it right now. You just want to pretend none of this happened tonight, least of all because you feel some kind of guilt over hanging out alone with Taehyun and letting him touch you when he secretly had feelings for you just like Beomgyu was afraid of. 

“Shut up, Beomgyu.” You grab his face and kiss him. 

He lets you do it. Beomgyu would never reject a kiss from you, but once your bruising kiss leaves his lips and travels to his jaw, he voices his concern. “Are you sure, princess? Don’t you wanna t-talk about it?” 

Princess? He’s bringing out the big guns. There is no use arguing with Beomgyu right now. You already know what he’s going to say so you bite down on his neck, making his breath hitch as your hands trail up his waist towards his nipples, rubbing them with your thumbs over the thin material of his shirt and making him gasp. “Just shut up and be good for once, Beomgyu. Need you to fuck me so hard I can’t even think about how mad I am at you right now.” 

You feel him gulp under your lips, and the next thing you know he is carrying you by your ass and dropping you onto the couch. He quickly takes off every shred of fabric on your body, following suit, before he gets on the ground in front of you and buries his face in your pussy. 

Beomgyu is a very talented lover, especially with his tongue. He knows exactly what to do to get you going, and right now is no different. He eats you out as if he can convince you to stay just by using his mouth, and you have to admit, it is very persuasive. 

“Fuck, Gyu. Good boy.” You praise, encouraging him to do more, your hand in his hair guiding his mouth to where you want him. He eagerly lets you control him, pushing his tongue into your pussy while his lips pucker and suck around your hole. 

You feel yourself clench around his tongue, more of your arousal leaking around it until it covers his chin and parts of his cheeks. You pull his head up, whining as his tongue slips out of your pussy, but he quickly relieves the feeling of emptiness by pushing his fingers inside you, curling them up to hit that sensitive spot inside you that has you keening. 

He wasn’t going to be slow tonight, and you don’t want that. You cry as his mouth finds a new target in your clit, alternating between sucking it in his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, all while his fingers plunge in and out of you until you’re creaming on his face. 

“That’s it! Fuck, that’s it, baby.” You throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut as your body shudders at the intense orgasm. Fuck, you needed this. 

Beomgyu doesn’t care about how hard you’ve got his hair fisted up in your hand. He keeps hungrily licking your pussy, not letting your arousal completely fade even as your orgasm passes. 

“Baby, wait, give me a second–” You gasp, feeling sensitive, and when Beomgyu pulls away you think he’ll give you break, but instead he pushes you down until you’re laying on your back on the couch and gets on top of you, lining his cock with your entrance 

“Wait–Beomgyu!” You cry as he shoves his cock inside of you, beginning to fuck you right away, not giving you a moment to breathe or calm down. 

“There you go, princess. Is this what you wanted?” He pants, hips slamming against yours as he fucks you roughly. 

It was what you wanted but you’re not sure now. You need a moment. “Baby, slow down…” You whine, your eyes squeezed tightly which Beomgyu doesn’t like. 

“Slow down? But I thought you wanted me to fuck you until you can’t think about how mad you are at me.” He taunts, slamming his hips against yours, his cock going so deep inside you you feel like you’re going to choke. Normally, you’d fucking love it but it’s suddenly too much for you. 

You shake your head, holding tightly onto his upper arms. “Please, baby, just slow down!”

But Beomgyu only fucks you harder. “Open your eyes, princess. Look at me while I’m fucking you.” 

“Beomgyu–” You beg but he seems too far gone, not realizing that you’re being serious. You feel a harsh smack against your thigh and he growls down at you. “Open your eyes.”  

You do, hardly seeing him with the tears in your eyes, but what you see scares you. “Gyu–”

“Am I fucking you hard enough? Or does my princess need me to fuck her dumb until she sees only me?” 

No, no. This is exactly what you asked for, but somehow it doesn’t feel good. The wildness of Beomgyu’s eyes, the roughness of his hands, don’t assure you of his need and devotion to you as always. Instead, they speak of a need to own, a desire to subjugate you or tear you apart. It fucking terrifies you. 

And suddenly, intrusive images come to mind. Images of bound limbs and golden suits, tears and anger. Images of Beomgyu forcing himself on you as you lie helpless and beg him to stop. 

“Beomgyu!” You cry out, shocked at what your mind is conjuring up. It’s not real but it feels real. You feel violated and scared and you just want it to stop. "Stop. Stop!"

“No. Don’t be a brat. You can take it.” Beomgyu chastises, still lost in his own head, the pleasure clouding his mind and not letting him see your pathetic state. 

“No. I can’t. Please. ” You sniffle, shaking your head weakly. 

“Don’t cry. You’ve made me wait so long for this pussy.” Prince Beomgyu drives his dick into you harder, making sure you’re fully deflowered.  "Take it. You were made for me. You can take it."

The images of prince Beomgyu looming over you just like he is right now, being so relentless and cruel as he takes what he wants from you are all you can see in front of you. It’s not a dream anymore. You’re wide awake, so why can you see them as if they were your own memories? God are you going crazy?

“Beomgyu?” You croak, trying to reach him through the images and his crazed headspace.

“I swear if you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t bother being gentle.”

You quickly clamp your mouth shut at the ghostly threat, stopping any noise from getting out, stopping even your breathing, and that finally alerts Beomgyu to what is going on. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He stops moving and reaches out to touch you but you flinch. 

“Don’t touch me.” You cry, the damn breaking down and allowing tears to stream down your face. 

“What happened? Oh god. I didn’t know you were serious.” Beomgyu’s face goes pale and he looks like he’s going to be sick. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Get off me. Get off me.” You wail, pushing him away. He pulls out of you but doesn’t get off, wrapping you in his arms and trying to get you to calm down. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear. You’re okay. You’re okay. I love you.” He coos, trying to sound reassuring but you can hear the panic and fear in his voice as he cradles you and rocks you back at forth, not paying any mind to you clawing at his back as you try to break free, letting you sob and cry until you tire yourself out and slowly, slowly down. 

“I’m right here, princess. You’re safe with me. I’ll never leave.” 

His words of reassurance fail to have the effect he desires. Instead of soothing you, you find them suffocating and inescapable. You feel like you’ve been here many times before, each time adding to the heaviness of that oppressive weight pushing down on you until you don’t have the strength to fight it anymore. You just fall limp in his arms, and he finally pulls back to look at you. 

He brushes your hair out of your face and swipes away the drying tears. “I’m sorry I hurt you, baby. I didn’t mean to.” 

"I’m sorry. I just…” Prince Beomgyu struggles to find the words for a second. “I had to do what I had to do to keep you.” 

You shiver, looking away from him. 

"What is it? What’s happening? What are you thinking?" He asks worriedly, wanting to get into your brain to figure out what caused your sudden breakdown, needing to know so he can convince you it’s nothing like he always does. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble, monotone. You’re fucking exhausted and traumatized. You feel like you’ve been violated. You just want to go to sleep and not wake up. 

“Baby, please, just talk to me. I can fix it.” 

You glare at him. “Fix it? As if you’ve ever taken my concerns seriously. You’d just tell me it’s all in my head and–” You shut yourself up. You don’t want to talk to him about this. It hurts enough when he dismisses your dreams normally. It would fucking kill you if he made light of what you just experienced, even if it was all in your head.  

Surprisingly, in a move totally unlike him, Beomgyu relents. “I take you seriously. You don’t even know.” He says, head bowed sadly. “It’s you who doesn’t.”

What does that even mean? Is he talking about his jealousy over Taehyun? Yes, you admit he may have been right about that but there are many other things he was wrong about. But you don’t have the energy to get into it right now. 

“Take me to bed.”

“Yes, princess.” He sighs, head bowed as he carries you in his arms and takes you to bed, putting you under the sheets and climbing in next to you. 

“I never want to hurt you.” He murmurs, taking you in his arms and kissing the top of your head. You shiver at his choice of words. 

Never wants to hurt you. Not is never going to hurt you. 

__________________________

A/N: lol I was supposed to do this early release on patreon but here is a surprise. as always i really appreciate any feedback. whenever I am going through hard times I keep reverting back to missing yamqn gyu and wishing for him to comfort him despite how objectively terrible he is :'D

once again

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Nonsense*

————————————————————————-

Summary: A coupon book you give Joe for Christmas as a joke turns into you doing something completely out of your comfort zone.

Warnings: Smut

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Everlasting Love

————————————————————————-

December 29, 2023

(y/n’s pov)

Sitting in bed, bored.

Seems like all I've been doing since I got back to Athens.

I missed Joe with every fiber of my being. I would give so much just to be able to reach out and touch his soft skin, his blonde locks, and feel the warmth his body emitted.

It was later in the night, ten o'clock.

Joe was probably asleep already, but he hadn't texted me yet saying goodnight.

Maybe he just got busy, I thought.

My thoughts started wandering. I was getting nervous about why Joe hadn't texted me all evening.

Almost as if he could read my mind before I got too worried, Joe texted me.

Hey, baby. You're prob asleep but I'm sorry I'm just getting to you now. I was over at Sam’s and my phone died. He was being a dick and wouldn't let me use his charger for some reason.

Anyways, goodnight, I love you.

I laughed slightly at his text, able to picture Sam arguing with Joe because he didn't want him using his charger.

I'm awake actually. Sam’s stupid btw, and I love you too.

Watching the bubbles pop up quickly, it was just a few seconds later when Joe texted back.

Since you're awake, wanna ft?

Sure!

Seconds later Joe’s name showed up on my screen and I immediately accepted the call.

I was met with Joe’s smiling face when the call connected. He was lying in bed shirtless, curls slightly wet while leaning against the headboard.

“Hi, baby.” - Joe grinned

Immediately, I recognized how deep his voice was. His voice generally dropped an octave when he was tired or aroused, and right now, I had a feeling it could be both.

“Hi, Joey. What are you up to?” - you

“Lying here in bed, thinking about you and how much I want you in this bed.” - Joe

After giggling at his admission, Joe continued.

“I was just thinking about your week here, and then I started thinking about sex… and that coupon book you gave me.” - Joe groaned

“You are insatiable, Joe.” - you giggled

“Fuck… I want you so bad right now.” - Joe

“Well, you're two hours away.” - you

“I swear, I'm always the horniest when you're away. It's like my dick’s betraying me.” - Joe

I absolutely snorted, laughing at his confession.

“I’m sorry it's like that and that I can't do anything to help you, baby.” - you

“Not your fault. I just can't stop thinking about you… and being inside of you.” - Joe

“If it makes you feel any better… I think about you all the time. Wish I could suck you off through Facetime.” - you giggled

“Shit, don't say that.” - Joe

“Why not?” - you grinned

“I’m getting super fucking hard right now. I'm just trynna wait for my hard-on to go away, but that's not possible if you keep saying things that make my dick twitch.” - Joe

“Boy, you're feeling very blunt tonight.” - you laughed

“Sorry… I know I get whiney when I'm horny. If I get too annoying just hang up.” - Joe

“You’re not being annoying. Not wrong about the whiney part, though. Like I said, if I could help you I would.” - you

Joe sat for a second, looking like he was deep in thought.

Out of nowhere, he got that ‘lightbulb!’ Look on his face and sat up on the bed with a grin.

“What if there was a way you could?” - Joe

“What are you saying?” - you

“Can I cash in a coupon virtually?” - Joe

I thought for a second. I mean, I didn't want to make him wait to use them just when I was in Cincinnati.

“Yeah, I guess.” - you

“Fuck yeah!” - Joe

Giggling at Joe as he fist-punched the air and did a little dance, I waited to see which one he wanted to use.

“Remember you can only use one a day.” - you

“Oh, I know. I only need one.” - Joe

“Which one do you want to cash in, baby?” - you

Joe flicked through the little booklet, trying to find the one he wanted.

“Ooo! I quote… extra sexy lap dance.” - Joe

I gave him a “what?” look but he only grinned devilishly. His tongue poked out as he bit down on it.

“Joe, how am I gonna give you a lap dance when you're two hours away?” - you laughed

“Just do it right here, on call.” - Joe

A few seconds of silence passed, his cheeky smile oddly convincing.

“Okay.” - you

“Yes!” - Joe yelled

“I’ll be right back, I have to change and grab my speaker.” - you

——

I turned my camera back on once everything was set up. I already had a routine planned for a song and everything, but doing this over the phone would be so different.

Having to essentially dance and grind on my bed, pretending it was Joe.

“You ready?” - you

“So fucking ready.” - Joe

Pressing play on Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter, I immediately started moving my hips in the most sensual way possible.

Just pretend you're in a club, performing for Joe.

Hearing Joe make a strangled noise gave me more confidence, he's enjoying this.

A few seconds later, I straddled the bed and started paying attention to the phone.

“Can I touch myself? Please?” - Joe

“Go ahead.” - you purred

Joe slid his hand down his pants and immediately wrapped it around his hard length.

“Fuck.” - Joe grunted

He was trying to match the movement of my hips with the slow pumps of his hand.

I could tell he was conflicted between closing his eyes or not. With his eyes closed, he could easily pretend it was my hand jerking him off, but he wanted to watch me.

A minute in, a third of the way through the song, Joe was moaning loudly.

“You… are so… goddam pretty.” - Joe groaned

Just a few seconds later, Joe abruptly pulled his hand out of his pants, and I heard the waistband snap against his stomach.

“I have to stop, I can’t cum yet…” - Joe breathed heavily

I stopped moving around, but Joe didn't like that one bit.

“Not you! Keep going, baby!” - Joe

Moments passed as I watched Joe bite on his lower lip, slowly rubbing over his bulge with his palm.

“Joe, there's a minute left of the song. You might wanna start back up.” - you

So he did. Joe immediately moved his hand back down his pants and pumped his cock faster than before.

“Good Girl, baby.” - Joe moaned

Joe’s head fell back as his chest started heaving, sweat dancing over his bare torso.

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum!” - Joe

“Joe, please take your shorts off. I wanna watch you.” - you

He immediately did my bidding.

I watched Joe lift his hips and pull his shorts down with one hand, never once letting go of his erection.

Joe grabbed his phone and brought it closer to his cock to give me a better view of one of my favorite parts of him.

“See what… you fucking- do to me?” - Joe

He was right. The entire shaft was beet red as his tip was wet from the precum constantly leaking out.

I watched his cock throb one last time before a loud moan left Joe’s lips, and he shot his load onto his hand and stomach.

“Shit…” - Joe hissed

Joe dropped his phone face down onto the bed, his screen was pitch black but I could still hear soft whimpers in his breath.

Pausing my music and getting under the covers of my bed, I got comfortable before checking on Joe.

“You okay, Joey?” - you

“Mhm. I'm just cleanin’ up.” - Joe

“Okay.” - you hummed

A minute later, Joe crawled into bed and picked up his phone.

One thing I loved about Joe was his post-orgasm expression. He always had this delirious smile with tired, hooded eyes.

“You want me to dance while you get off?” - Joe

“Babe, I love you, but I don't think head bobbing and the airplane is gonna help me out much in that department.” - you laughed

“What about my get the gat dance?” - Joe

I snorted when Joe formed a gun with his hand and did a little move with it.

“If you have the cigar, then yes.” - you giggled

Joe went to say something but when he opened his mouth the only thing that came out was a yawn.

“Noted.” - Joe finally said when his yawn was over

We just sat there for a moment, staring at each other with smiles on our faces.

“You seem pretty tired, baby.” - you

“After that orgasm? Yes. I don't think I've ever come that hard from jerking off.” - Joe

“It’s my effect on you, huh?” - you joked

“For real.” - Joe yawned again

“Goodnig-” - you

“Wait… can we just stay on FaceTime? I wanna fall asleep with you.” - Joe

“Of course.” - you

Butterflies erupted in my stomach as Joe placed his phone on the pillow next to his, the one I was sleeping on last week.

“Goodnight, y/n. I love you.” - Joe

“Goodnight, Joe. I love you too.” - you

A few minutes passed by and I heard his light snores through my phone speaker, causing me to smile.

I thought about hanging up, but instead plugged my phone in on my nightstand.

Though I wouldn't physically be falling asleep next to Joe, I knew he was with me.

And with him is where I wanted to always be.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: I was super hyped to write this idk why 💀

Request for this fic; I kinda tweaked it but it's still generally the same idea!

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[hheaven-sentt]

meet me in the woods

summary: dreams of the woods and being someone else | leon kennedy x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: the softest angst ever, fighting & sparring, mentions of injuries, language, wanderlust, love confessions, unfortunate situations, slightly forbidden romance, krauser mention (i hate that guy)

notes: 'm where have you been?' 'm when are you coming back?' i'm back. i'm alive. i am free from the shackles of college for three months lawd have MERCY | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kick to the stomach should’ve been something you expected. You’d been calculating his moves the whole time, able to evade them without even thinking because you saw them from a mile away. But he wouldn’t stop talking. That’s always how he got you; opening his mouth and letting pretty words fall out of it. So when he said that the sunlight made your eyes a different shade, a prettier shade, you lost your touch. It was replaced by a boot to the stomach.

You let out a sound you didn’t even know you could make, a rush of air blowing past your lips. You hit the ground hard, half expecting a plume of dirt to come up around your shoulders. Leon is over you in an instant, locking your arms across your chest. He’s grinning. The sun outlines him like a halo.

“Yield,” he says, lips wrapping around his teeth in an obnoxious grin.

“Never,” you say, pushing back against him. You know it won’t matter so much, he’s always been stronger than you.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he asks, teasing. You notice your legs are still free, remaining unpinned by his. You finally return his grin.

“Never have,” you answer, managing to force your leg between his chest and yours. You plant your foot against him as best you can and give a hard kick. It’s enough to loosen his grip on you, and you’re back on your feet in minutes. You shake the dirt off of your shoulders.

You feel more at ease now, more in control. So long as Leon stays quiet, you might actually win this one. You put the voice in your head to bed, the one that says you’re still going to lose.

Leon tilts his head a bit, grin still hanging on his lips. He squares again, feet shoulder width apart. You could mirror his stance without even thinking. You know his strategies, you know his moves, you know the way his body works. He bounces on the balls of his feet before he swings, it gives him more momentum. He blocks too often with his right forearm, it’s covered in bruises that make it a weak spot. Yes, you know him. That doesn’t always make it easier.

You’re circling one another, waiting for the other to strike. Leon likes to bide his time; he knows you hate going on the offense so he tries to make you, tries to goad you into it. You often fall for it, but you’re trying not to. But he’s still grinning at you, which is mildly infuriating, like an itch you can’t quite reach.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says. You raise a brow. “Are we just going to stare at each other, or are we going to finish this? I’d like to get something to eat, and half the mess hall will be closed by the time we’re done,”

“Then hit me,” you return. “Finish it,”

He lets a breath escape him in what seems like a chuckle. You try to ignore it. “Why don’t you hit me, huh? Why do I have to do all the work?”

“Because when you swing, your balance is off. Makes you easier to topple,”

“You’re a quick learner,”

He rushes you then, throwing a right hook that would most certainly hurt if it were to connect with your jaw. You angle your head back at the right moment, using his forward momentum against him. You slip behind him, spinning on your heel. Before you can regret it, you send a hard kick into his back. The satisfaction rises in your throat when he stumbles. He turns to face you. The sunset is peeking at you over his head. You smile. He laughs as he swings again, and you duck beneath the fist hurtling at your nose. He grunts when he takes a punch to the kidney, but you doubt it even hurt that much. It’s a dance of fists and feet, attempting to land a single blow on the other. You can see the sheen of sweat on his brow, something you try to ignore. If you think about it too long, you’ll be face down in the dirt below. You throw a punch, one that lands hard against the smooth planes of his cheek. You worry it will bruise. You push it down. When you’d first started this, he didn’t care if you bruised. He said it would motivate you to do better.

Use everything to your advantage, even losses, he’d said.

Four hours. Within four hours you had managed to lose every fight against Leon you’d started. They didn’t even last that long, so there was no telling exactly how many you’d lost. A kick to the back of your knees sends you down this time, his forearm coming to rest around your throat. His labored breath is hot against the shell of your ear.

“Yield,” he says. The anger in you is too much.

“Fuck you,” you say, ramming your elbow into his ribs. He grunts, the wave of breath cascading over your shoulder. It gives you enough of an edge to wriggle out of his grasp.

You swing with abandon now, anger and frustration and exhaustion haunting your body and movements like a poltergeist. It’s only a matter of moments before your back is on the ground and his boot is pressing into your chest.

“Yield,” he says again. You grit your teeth, feeling tears resting in your eyes. You will not cry in front of him. With anger and resentment, you hammer your palm into his leg twice, signifying your yield. He relents, allowing you to stand.

“You let your anger get the best of you,” he says, turning you forcefully to dust the dirt from your back. “It makes you sloppy,”

“I’ll show you sloppy,” you say, stepping away from him. He laughs.

“I’m serious,” he says, schooling his features as you look at him. “You need to stamp it out or use it to your advantage,”

“I don’t know how to do that,” you say. Your voice is hoarse from the lump in your throat. Defeat weighs heavy on your bones.

“You will learn,” he promises. “Use everything to your advantage,”

The punch to the jaw is a shock to the system. It wakes you up in a way. You feel that anger coming back, that refusal to accept defeat. With a breath, you swing your leg up, landing a solid kick to his side that knocks the wind out of him. Taking hold of the moment, you land a right hook to his face, which causes him to stumble. You can hardly believe your eyes when he falls to the ground. You stand above him, triumphant.

“Yield,” you say. You’re not even pinning him, just sort of hovering near him, hands on your hips.

He’s grinning at you. It’s not teasing, it’s not to get a rise out of you. It’s the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen on him. Without a word, he taps out. Two hard beats against the ground are like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. Even in your exhaustion, you can’t help but thrust your fists in the air in celebration.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, extending your hand to him to help him up. “I actually won,”

When he’s standing in front of you, half drenched in sweat and smiling at you with so much pride, it’s hard to deny how beautiful he is. Constructed by the gods, you might say if he ever asked. You’re laughing, cackling actually, and he grips the sides of your head as he laughs with you. Your nose is bleeding, you can taste the rust on your lips. He brings your forehead to his, celebrating with you even though this was definitely a blow to his ego. 

After a few moments of bliss, you realize how close you are and how unprofessional it looks, and you back away. You’re both still grinning as he unwraps his knuckles.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” he teases, dropping the wrappings into the trash. The sun has nearly fully set. “You’re not the heavyweight champion or anything,”

“But, damn, don’t I feel like it,” you muse, smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt. He shoves your shoulder.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he says, grabbing your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is.

The mess hall is practically empty when you arrive, save for a few stragglers and the staff. Your usual seats are open, which is a relief. You feel like you can’t breathe when you set your tray down on the table. Leon sits beside you, like he always does, knocking his shoulder into yours.

“You have not won the war,” he teases. You roll your eyes. “Tomorrow night, you’re going down,”

“Who knows?” you return, sinking your teeth into a hard roll. “Maybe this is the start of your losing streak,”

He grins, stealing a piece of broccoli from your tray. In response, you shove the tray his way, a silent gesture to allow him as many as he would like.

You hate it here. It’s hard and trying, and it often makes you want to run away and live in the woods. But Leon makes it passable. Sometimes, after a particularly hard day, all you want to do is hit him. The thought brings comfort to you, settles it over your bones like a warm blanket. It makes your relationship with him strange, sure, but it works somehow. You hit him, he hits you, you get dinner, and the world can turn again. You don’t remember the last time someone had this effect on you, especially in this way.

Sometimes you wonder, on the days where the woods look like your best option, if he would come with you. Leon doesn’t like it here either, but he’s good at it. He’s good at following orders, he’s good with sparring, he doesn’t lose. He’s the star pupil if you’ve ever seen one. But there’s a part of you that thinks he might follow you. Maybe it would be under the guise of protecting you against bears and other woodland fauna, but you think he might just like an escape. Maybe he would go with simply because it was you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, knocking his shoulder into yours again. You look at him through your lashes.

“What comes after?” you wonder aloud. He quirks a brow, asking for elaboration. “When we leave? When I am no longer allowed to conquer you?”

He laughs at this. “I wouldn’t go that far,”

“I am David, you were my Goliath,” you say. He shakes his head.

“I don’t know what comes after,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to knock you on your ass every now and then,”

Something brightens in your chest. “A noble cause,”

“I’m serious,” he says. Your smile falters for a moment. “I think we’ll figure it out. One day, we won’t have to bruise each other anymore,”

“Maybe I’m only doing it to get your attention,” you tease.

“It’s working,”

The statement makes your cheeks flush. “Don’t get sentimental on me now. There’s no place for that kind of talk here,”

He laughs. “You sound like Krauser,”

“Take that back,” you grin. He shrugs, then laughs when you playfully hit his shoulder. He looks around for a moment, gauging your surroundings.

“I meant it,” he says after a while. You look at him. “That we could make it work. Guess I’m sentimental when it comes to you,”

You roll your eyes. “You say that like you’re about to confess your love for me, Kennedy,”

He laughs, a real laugh that rumbles in his chest and warms your flesh. You like when he laughs like this, and you like it even more when you’re the one who causes it.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asks. His head is bent toward you, closing you into his space. He smells like dirt and cedar, a scent that you would let choke you.

It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were anywhere else, anyone else. But you’re not. You’re you and he’s him, and you’re stuck somewhere that bleeds the love out of you one punch at a time. If you were in a coffee shop on a dreary street with a warm mug in your hands to unfreeze them from the rain, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. It would be a wonderful thing.

“Here?” you say. “With me? Yes, that would be a bad thing,”

He grins at you. “Then I’m not confessing my love for you,” he says. “But if we were in the woods somewhere, lost and wandering, I would,”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “In this hypothetical situation, lost in the woods and confessing love, I would welcome your confession,”

The conversation dies with that. You know your days will continue, the secret dream of the woods stuck in your heart somewhere. You refuse to allow that to be beaten out of you. You would spend your life trying to reach whatever woodland he dreamt up.

He walks you back to your bunks, like he always does. There’s something lingering between you, but it’s not a fire worth stoking, not now. His smiles are easy, his jokes even easier, and you allow things to continue as normal. That seems easier.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, voice soft and sweet and low. You let it wash over you. You grin.

“Only if you’re prepared to lose again,” you tease. He laughs, a low whisper of air.

And he kisses you, soft and sweet like honey on a sugar roll. Plush against him, you feel like putty, ready to be molded to do whatever he could ever need. When he pulls away, he lingers in your orbit for a moment. Your eyes remain closed, just standing in the feel of him.

“I will not be losing tomorrow,” he says. “I won’t go easy on you,”

With that, he’s gone. He’s never gone easy on you, so it’s not much of a threat. But that doesn’t mean he’s never soft. He’s always soft for you.

[seabirdtxt]

Hello! Just recently found your blog, and I am in love with your fanfic, Glitch In Irminsul!

I honestly have no idea if I'm the first one to request on your blog, but I do hope this idea is okay with you!

May I request this: Reader who is a comedian with Cyno, Tighnari and Collei, reacting to Reader making Cyno's bad jokes (quote on quote) "better"? You don't have to find a joke for Reader if you don't wanna :)

I'm a little obsessed with their dynamic as of right now. If you do happen to take this request, thanks :D

Also idk if you wanna take Anons, but if you do someday, is it alright if I claim "🎪 Anon" as my alias? Sorry if I'm asking too much! I hope you have a great day :)

hi!! thanks so much for your request, and your patience!! 🩵 i had a good bit of fun writing this for you, i love bad jokes 🤭

WC. 1092

----- ⚘ -----

As the General Mahamatra, and having been personally assigned to your guard by Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, it is Cyno’s sworn duty to attend to every need and whim of the almighty Creator.

And when the Creator demands that you tell them your absolute worst joke, the one that nobody has ever even laughed at yet, well, who is he to deny them?

“- didn’t realize that, at that very moment, a Hydro slime was praying to meet a lone, stranded traveler.” Cyno finishes the joke with a straight face, at the exact same moment that the door to the hut swings open, revealing Tighnari and Collei with several bags of groceries in their arms.

“Oh, Cyno, not the slime joke again.” Tighnari groans over the sound of your absolutely raucous laughter at the horrible joke.

“But the Creator likes it.” Cyno protests, gesturing to you hanging part way off the table and clutching your stomach. You honestly don’t find the joke itself all that funny, but the sheer confidence with which he tells it paired with the completely deadpan expression he has is sending you into hysterics.

“They’re going to eat each other!” You gasp, trying to sit back properly on the chair. A few lingering giggles hit you when you see Tighnari’s deeply disappointed expression. “Hahaha… but slimes don’t have a mouth, do they? How would it eat the person?”

“Exactly!” Tighnari says, pointing at Cyno with the hand not holding the groceries. “It doesn’t make any sense! Slimes wouldn’t-”

“And what did the stranded traveler say in that situation?” You add, confusing both Tighnari and Cyno into silence. Cyno blinks a few times, visibly wondering if there was a part of the joke that he forgot to tell, and he’s about to ask for clarification when Collei beats him to the punch.

“Your Grace, the traveler didn’t say anythi-” Collie begins, but you’re already on a roll.

“He said, ‘it must be slime for dinner!’”

You can’t help but erupt into laughter again at seeing everyone’s reactions: Collei’s slow realization, Cyno perking up excitedly, and Tighnari imploding with exasperation.

“You see, because ‘slime’ sounds like ‘time’-”

“Yes, Cyno. Thanks. I got the gist.”

You’re still gasping for air, leaning back in the chair and bracing yourself on the wall behind you. Tighnari’s frown falters a little, your joy infectious even if the joke is terrible.

“Slime for dinner, and sand for dessert!” You add, and Cyno chuckles even as he brings out his wretched book of jokes and begins writing an annotation in the margins, which Tighnari is sure the librarian will greatly appreciate later. “Get it? ‘Cause dessert, and desert?”

Tighnari is about to snarkily reply, when a surprising sound catches his attention. He turns with a horrified expression to Collei, who has her hand over her mouth and eyes wide in disbelief.

“Oh no, Collei…” Tighnari says warningly, shaking his head, which causes the girl to snort again and she quickly puts down her groceries before she can drop them.

“I- I’m sorry, Master,” she fights through her giggles, which only spurs you and Cyno on. “It’s just… it’s so bad…”

“Come on, ‘Nari, it’s just a joke,” Cyno attempts to bring the Valuka Shuna in on the fun. “Think of it as a way to break the ice.”

“Yeah, Tighnari,” you add. “Snow fun otherwise.”

Collei lets out a full belly laugh, to Tighnari’s dismay and Cyno’s apparent confusion.

“You’ve never laughed at my jokes like that,” the general points out, and Collei can only laugh harder.

“We’re morally obligated to laugh at the Creator’s jokes, ‘lest Their Grace smite us with impunity.” Tighnari states tonelessly, completely opposing his own statement.

That’s about as much as you can take. You slide bonelessly off the chair, howling with laughter on the floor like some kind of hyena.

“Look what you did! You corrupted the Creator!”

“The Creator told that joke all on their own!”

While Cyno and Tighnari are bickering, Collei helps you off of the floor, steadying you in your chair as you both come down from your laughing. She checks you over to make sure you didn’t injure yourself on your way down, then grabs her bag and rummages through it before producing a shiny red apple.

“We brought snacks!” she announces, handing you the fruit proudly. “And we have the stuff for dinner tonight! We picked these fresh, though. They’re very sweet this season!”

You take the apple with a grin and rub it on your shirt to clean it before taking a bite.

“Wow, these really are sweet! Thanks, Collei!” You marvel at how good the apple tastes, somehow different from Earth’s apples, with a refreshing, sugary taste.

“You’re very welcome!” Collei beams at the praise. “I’m gonna go get Master Tighnari to stop griping and help me with dinner, now, though.”

You perk up at the mention of cooking. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, gosh, no! You’re our guest, please let us take care of it!” Collei insists, then scurries over to the other two.

You decide to follow her just as she’s asking Tighnari for help with cooking. The botanist huffs with mild annoyance, his tail sweeping from side to side.

“I’m not sure Cyno needs dinner, Collei,” he states. “Since he wants to act childish, perhaps it would be best to put him in time-out for the evening.”

“That’s not very knife of you, Tighnari,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Why don’t you fork-give him for now so we can have dinner together?”

Tighnari squints at you, somehow sensing you’ve made a pun (or two) despite your straight delivery.

“... Are you going to stop with the jokes too, Your Grace?” he asks, his ear flicking.

“What jokes? Collei wanted to ask for your help with the cooking. How can you say no to dish face?” You sidle up behind Collei and use your pointer fingers to make her smile, which she tolerates with surprising grace. “Isn’t she adora-bowl?”

“...” Tighnari maintains his stance for a few more seconds, and then sighs in defeat. “I don’t have a counter to that. Very well, I suppose I can let it slide for tonight, since it’s for you, Your Grace…”

“Hehehe, counter,” you mumble, which causes Collei to erupt into giggles once more, and Cyno to look extremely pleased with your ability.

And Tighnari to make a noise of exasperation, throwing his hands up and stomping toward the kitchen on his own.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m leaving!”

[stxrsniolo]

ﾟ ˖ ꕀ love and expiration dates .

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 warning : angst incoming... narrated from matt's point of view.

the party was loud, the kind of loud where you feel the bass in your chest, and every shout was just another layer to the cacophony. the air was thick with the smell of cheap cologne, sweat, and the tang of spilled drinks. i was there, arm in arm with some new chick whose name i couldn't remember, her presence more like an accessory than a partner. we were just weaving through the crowd when my eyes caught y/n's across the room.

our gazes locked for a heartbeat, and i swear, the world paused. she looked away quickly, but not before i saw that flash of hurt, like i'd stabbed her with my indifference. she was the one i'd ghosted, left hanging, the whole nine yards, after months of what i thought was something real.

i tried to dodge her, to blend into the crowd, but it felt like the room was conspiring against me, pushing me closer to her with each step. the noise, the lights, the laughter—it all felt like a backdrop to our drama.

eventually, the universe, with its cruel sense of irony, led us both to the balcony, the only quiet spot in this madhouse. the moon was hanging low, casting a soft glow over us, like it was watching our little soap opera unfold.

"y/n," i said, my accent thick, every word sounding like i was chewing on it. "didn't expect to see ya here."

"yeah, well, the universe has a twisted sense of humor," she shot back, her words sharp, cutting through the night air like a knife.

we stood there, the silence between us almost louder than the party inside. i leaned against the railing, avoiding her gaze, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. the cold metal of the balcony was nothing compared to the chill of our interaction.

"i knew it though, your 'i love you's aren't fake, but they come with an expiration date," she finally said, her voice quiet but loaded with every emotion i'd tried to ignore.

i turned to look at her then, really look at her. her face was illuminated by the moon, making her look even more ethereal, even in her anger, even in her hurt. "look, y/n, i... i dunno what to say," i mumbled, tripping in my own words, making me feel like i was back in high school, dodging a tough question.

"you just wanted to be right while i wanted to love you, how can you be such a coward?" her words hit like a punch, and i felt them in my gut, twisting and turning.

i sighed, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of her disappointment like a physical thing. "i ain't good at this, y/n. i got scared, okay? scared of messin' up, of not bein' enough."

"and ghosting me was the answer?" she asked, her voice rising, a mix of frustration and sadness echoing around us.

"i fucked up, alright? i should've talked to ya, not just... ran away," i admitted, feeling the words like a confession in a church i never went to.

the silence that followed was filled with the distant sounds of the party; laughter, music, the clinking of glasses, but it all felt so far away. we were in our own bubble, a world of regret and missed opportunities.

"i wish you could've been brave enough to love me the way i loved you," she said, her voice breaking, and it was like hearing my own heart shatter.

"i'm sorry, y/n," i said, the words feeling hollow, my tone not hiding the sincerity this time. "i really am."

she nodded, looking up at the moon, then back at me with eyes that held too much for either of us to handle. "maybe one day, you'll figure out how to stick around when it matters."

with that, she walked back inside, leaving me alone with the night, the moon, and all the could-have-beens. i stood there, feeling the cold seep in, not just from the night air but from the realization of what i'd lost, what i'd thrown away because i was too scared to face my own feelings.

the moon kept watch over me, a silent judge to my guilt. i could've followed her, tried to fix things, but the fear was still there, a barrier i hadn't learned to overcome. instead, i stayed, watching the party go on without me, feeling each note of music, each laugh from inside, as a reminder of what i'd given up.

i leaned further over the railing, my thoughts a mess, the regret heavy. i knew i'd messed up, knew i'd probably lost her for good. but standing there, under the indifferent gaze of the moon, i realized something else too—i'd lost a piece of myself in the process, a piece i might never get back.

the night grew colder, or maybe it was just me, but i couldn't leave that spot. it felt like penance, like i was doing time for my cowardice. the party raged on, but on this balcony, it was just me, the moon, and the echoes of a love that could've been, if only i hadn't been such a damn fool.

©𝗦𝗧𝗫𝗥𝗦𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗢 | inspired by I ' AM by Milo J.

[miabbh]

reading & commenting (a little too much & too emotionally)

── ❝ CHILL BABY ❞ 🪩🥂 ̟!!

by @baekhyunsbestie

cut for the sake of scrolling (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

minseok gestures for you to sit, and your stomach drops when you see baekhyun already lounging in the chair across from him. he’s got that laid-back, insufferably confident posture, as if he owns the whole damn office. his tie is casually loosened, jacket tossed over the back of the chair like he’s at a bar instead of a meeting. he twirls a pen between his fingers with a carefree smirk, completely at ease as though this were some casual hangout, not an important work discussion.

The way I can fuckin see this in my mind as if it was a film scene speakes volumes about how good your writing is + how down we are for bbh. It's infuriating how good he looks even in my imagination through a bunch of words together!!!!!!!! Nhamnham I wanna nham nham him already it's the second paragraph 😩

your blood boils a little as you can’t help but notice how good he looks. it's infuriating—he looks effortlessly sharp in that tailored suit, the kind of guy who knows exactly how to make everything he wears look like it was meant for him. (...)

See, that's what I meant. We're all the same deep down, Baekhyun's Eris. We're all creatures breathing this man talent and beauty and cuteness and making sure the whole internet knows about it &!!!!! we feed each other!

“exceptional,” baekhyun repeats, leaning back in his chair with a grin that’s equal parts smug and infuriating. he lets the word hang in the air like a trophy. then, with an exaggerated sweetness, he shifts his gaze to you. “you hear that, sweetheart? i’m exceptional.”

ohhh my god I wanna punch him but at the same time I wanna give him the biggest loudest smooch over. cocky af I totally get her/me/us! Like- mf knows he's ho- HE'S GOOD AT HIS JOB and just uses it at his favor. That's hot.

your jaw drops, and before you can stop yourself, your voice rises. “oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

baekhyun sits up straighter, his smirk vanishing as he frowns. “the fuck you mean, ‘unfortunately’?” he interjects, indignant. “i’m a goddamn asset to this company.”

“an asset?” you snap, turning to him with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “you’re a walking liability.”

You won me over here. Do you want my heart, Lisa? I'll give it to you. What do you want? Just say the word. Imma print this and glue it in my forehead. Ah I love enemies to lovers and that's why I'm single. No one is worth being an enemy of mine because no one is like him 😩😩

Poor Minseok having to deal with it but it's just pure entertainment I'm loving it 😭

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “oh, please. fixed? more like rearranged everything i worked on just to make it fit your ‘vision.’”

baekhyun shrugs nonchalantly. “well, it worked, didn’t it? the client loved it. you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

I wanna bite them both. This is having me so excited Im shaking as I write! Jeez I wanna stay here forever Lisaaaaa!!!

“looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of quality time together, sweets,” he says, his tone practically dripping with amusement.

the pet nameeessseeeee 😩😩😩😩😩 please oh my I them to kiss already but at the same time pls don't keep this going

baekhyun blinks, clearly thrown by the shift in your tone. his usual cocky demeanor falters for just a second, a hint of pink creeping up his neck. “r-really?” he stammers, his voice softer, less certain. he runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck as he stumbles over his words. “i... i can look into it.”

your smile doesn’t falter. in fact, it only grows, but now there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes. “yeah! and maybe while we’re out there, i can push you off the boat and into the ocean. and maybe, just maybe, i’ll finally be free of you.”

Don't do that 😭😭😭😭oh my heart you're evil nooooooo 😭😭 And his reaction? Oh my he's so helpless in love I wanna laugh but my heart is aching

baekhyun raises an eyebrow, twirling his bag strap like he’s the most important person in the world. “oh, i found us the perfect place. a real gem.” he pauses for dramatic effect. “one-star motel, just for you, babe.”

ahhhh Lisa I hope truth be told's holding it's place tight cuz it's shaking!!!!!

your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t stop the small ache that forms in your chest, the memories flooding back despite your best efforts to push them down. he steps closer, his eyes scanning you, like he’s inspecting every inch of you as if he’s trying to figure out how you’ve changed. or maybe how he hasn’t.

Ohhhh myyyyyyy I read the tags but I forgot about this but now 😩😩😩 Oh my the difference and the tension is too good

When it's well written, oh my the male rivalry and jealousy and everything has me on my knees. Lisa, you're fantastic! Bbh and Jongin then???? DAMNNN

“sorry, don’t think we’ve met,” baekhyun says, his voice dripping with a saccharine sweetness that’s anything but genuine. he tightens his arm around your waist just enough that you can feel the shift in his posture, like he’s pulling you into his orbit. his eyes flicker briefly to you before he meets jongin’s gaze again, sharp and calculating. “who are you?”

you know when you're soo deep into the story that you can feel and smeel and, sometimes, get scared when you notice you're not there? Wow, I just felt a good male perfume and it's in the middle of the night plus all the perfumes I have are sweet. Man, I'm in love with this piece and I'm just in the beginning.

boyfriend.

boyfriend. boyfriend! 😩😩 i want a baekhyun to be my (fake) boyfriend too

“we’re actually here for new year's, you know,” baekhyun says, his voice laced with a sweetness that you can’t quite shake off. “my girl can’t stand the cold back home, so we thought we’d escape for a bit.”

the car ride to the hotel is the kind of moment you’d want to capture forever. the windows are rolled down, letting the warm, golden sunshine pour in, and the tropical breeze carries the scent of saltwater and plumeria. you lean your head back against the seat, letting your eyes flutter closed for just a second as the warmth kisses your skin. it feels almost unreal, the stark contrast to the biting cold and slate-gray skies of new york city that you left behind.

this is so film coded, Lisa, that if I end up deciding and getting a master's degree in cinema, we will recreate this! Maybe not in Hawaii but WE WILL!!!!!

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to piece it together. he’s relaxed in the driver’s seat, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel while the other rests on the open window’s edge. his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his hair is ruffled slightly from the breeze. he looks completely at ease, like he belongs in this setting, soaking up the sun and radiating that same kind of effortless warmth.

“baekhyun,” you hiss, your voice low enough to avoid drawing attention but packed with enough fury to cut through his smug demeanor—or so you hope. “what the hell happened, king of the fucking finance department? you were in charge of the booking.”

IMMA.FREAKING.TATTOO.THIS.IN.MY.FOREHEADDDDDDEEEEEEEEE

this is too good if this was a book by now I would have had to buy three more copies because the pages would already be stuck to my wall with highlighters and notes and stickers

suddenly, he stops, his face shifting into a more serious expression, though the hint of a smirk still lingers. “actually, i’ll shower first. we can talk about the whole sleeping arrangement after, but i’m down for the pillow wall, if you are, sweets.” his eyes twinkle as he adds, “i know that was on your mind. and hey, you wouldn’t want your dear old boyfriend to sleep on the not-as-comfy sofa, would you? be a good girlfriend, would ya?”

DON'T 'YA' ME RN MAN WHAAAAAAAAA?????!!!!!!! I'm having a hard time already, bitting my nails and smiling like crazy and then you 'ya'? Don't 'ya'!!!! I'm too weak for this 😩

why am I so weak for his 'ya'? It's just a word 😭 brain is a weirdo

the same baekhyun who has spent months throwing paper clips at you during meetings, the one who always swiped the last muffin in the break room—one he knew you’d been eyeing all day. standing there, completely unbothered by your presence, his sharp hip bones and smooth muscle curves on full display.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HSJSJSSISJSJJSJSJSHSJSSIBSOSBSKDIABSKDJSAJWNDKSNSODNDKSJSSOXJSKSISBSKABDKD 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫🫨😩🫨😵‍💫🤧🫨😩😵‍💫😵‍💫😩😵‍💫😣🫨😩🫨😩🫨🥶😣😳😨🫨😨😳😨🙁😨😲😨🙁😓😳😓😲😯😓🫤😞😒😠🧐🤔😶 soooooo nhamnham I wanna punch him for that all but AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

his broad shoulders practically fill the doorway of the bathroom, water droplets still clinging to his skin, glistening under the light as they trail down his collarbones, catching the soft glow of the room. they follow the sharp planes of his abs, disappearing just below the towel hanging low on his waist—just barely hiding the path that your eyes desperately try to pull away from.

and again I felt the smeel of shower soap? this must have a name but wow Lisa this rarely happens to me, only when I'm really deep into the reading but with your writing it's just to natural oh my- im truly chocked

also idk about you but in all my fics I imagine him soon after his "big Boy" era. Something about huge Baek has my heart on its hands and I'm not fighting back. Just imagine the difference on the shoulders, for starters 🥵 *fangirl sounds*

baekhyun raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “not even gonna send me straight to the couch?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “gonna give me a chance on the bed tonight? you goin’ soft on me, sweetheart? promise i won’t disappoint. y’know, women are actually trying to get into my bed, not out of it.”

Oh my he's so shitty and cocky. Lisa you really surpassed yourself on this wow! Everytime they open their mouth I'm smiling like an idiot.

still, this part here?? He's so in love oh my. I mean who wouldn't but damn

before jongin can retort, baekhyun’s grip on you tightens, and he tugs you back into the room with a firm, deliberate motion. the door clicks shut behind you with a satisfying snap, the confrontation left to fizzle out on the other side.

I was silent this whole time because I just cant get enough of (not so fakely) jealous!possessive!Baek. LISAAAAAAAAAA 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 I CAN'T STOPP READDINGGGHGHHHGGGDJ

baekhyun’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest, low and teasing, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “if you kill me, princess,” he whispered, his breath warm and distracting against the side of your face, “you’re goin’ down with me.” his voice dropped to a mockingly romantic tone. “kinda poetic, though, don’t ya think? like romeo and juliet.”

honorable mention. Hehe 😂😂😂

before you could respond, the sliding glass door to jongin’s room swung open, and his voice rang out, breaking through the tension. “if you two are going to have sex in the pool, i’m calling security!” he yelled.

No hehe to you 😒 That's called envy, Jongin! You lost! Go, go away! Also, damn lucky to have him there right there anyway 🙄

it was fucking infuriating.

It is, isn't it? Damn, Baekhyun is so handsome even when he's just breathing this makes no senseeeseee!!!!!

“aww, you guys shouldn’t have. but i’ve already been here for a couple years now,” baekhyun jokes, grinning as he glanced over at kyungsoo. “also, i’m in finance, not marketing.”

LISAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! I'M IN LOVE ENOUGH STOP WITH THIS SASSY LINES FROM HIM IMMA SMOOCH HIM! WITH TONGUE!

baekhyun swears he’d fallen in love at that moment.

you glanced at him, the corners of your mouth twitching into a subtle smirk, eyes glinting with amusement. “thanks,” you said, reaching for a muffin, your voice light and playful. “by the way, nice try with the whole ‘i’ve been here for years’ thing. thought it was kinda cute.” you paused, your gaze lifting to meet his, the challenge in your eyes sharp and clear. “but, what was it you said afterwards? wondering if i’m a 'yes man' or a hardass?”

Oh!! So she was the one who started 🤔🤔🤔 good to know, good to know. Poor Baekhyun, how could he not to fall in love and get so down for here? If things were a little different, maybe he would kneel right there and then

for the first time in either of your lives, you look up at baekhyun with something entirely new in your eyes. there’s a pink tint dusting your cheeks, softening the sharpness of your usual quips, and a sparkle in your gaze that practically screams that, to you, baekhyun puts the stars in the sky.

Oh my oh my oh my it's now, isn't it??!!!

“i could (make you come),” he breathes, the words almost shaky, like he’s barely holding himself together. his breaths are ragged, his chest rising and falling faster than you’ve seen all night.

SIR? I mean- hello for you too! He's so sassy how's that even possible???? Also you said the smut is 🥵 and I'm not ready! I'm shakingggg!

in that moment, the fireworks erupted in the distance, their deafening roar ringing in the new year as baekhyun’s lips crashed into yours with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. it wasn’t gentle or deliberate—nothing like the soft, romantic kisses you’d imagined. this was raw, primal, as if an invisible force had pulled you together, unrelenting and inevitable. every frantic press of his lips against yours felt like an explosion, a desperate, magnetic connection that neither of you could fight.

Mia.exe stopped working. Mia.exe stopped working. Mia.exe stopped working. Mia.exe stopped working. Mia.exe stopped working. Mia.exe stopped working. Mia.exe stopped working. Reason: overheating.

with every pop and crackle of the fireworks, his kiss deepened, more frantic, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. the colors above—bright, burning, alive—seemed to reflect the way he touched you, his hands pulling you closer, his tongue moving with desperation that matched the chaos of the display. it was a beautiful, reckless collision of sound and motion, and for that brief moment, nothing else existed. it was just you, just him, and the fire in his kiss, mirroring the explosion of fireworks lighting up the sky.

So beautifully written Lisa oh my 😩😩🥵 I wanna tattoo this in my hand so I can read it all the time oh my- you're so good with words Lisa how lucky I am for reading this 😭 I love you Lisa damn I can't stop thinking about this lines

without any warning, his hand comes down hard, a sharp slap landing on the soft curve of your ass. the sting leaves a fiery trail as his fingers linger, pressing firmly through the fabric of your dress, now hiked even higher.

“always have to talk back, don’t you?” baekhyun spits the words, his knee pressing between your legs. his grin, so innocently handsome, spreads across his face as he notices the soft moan that slips from your lips. he grinds against you purposefully, feeling your body shift under him. “why won’t ya ever, hah—believe me?”

DOM BAEK?????!!!!! OMG LISA I'M GIVING YOU MY HEART SEND ME YOUR ADDRESS OR WHATEVER

I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't expecting this. But I like it. I like it very much. Very very very much 🥵

you stare at him, utterly deadpan. “yeah, you’re definitely getting pushed into the ocean tomorrow.”

WHAT WAS THAAAAT????!!!!!!!! OH MY LISA THIS WAS FANTASTIC!!!!

I loved it so, so, soooooo much!!!! All the cockyness, the tease, Their dynamics are so fluid that it is truly entertaining, it doesn’t feel forced, not a single line! Also related to this, the transition from enemies to lovers was soooooo smooth and created such strong anticipation!!! I was almost crying, Lisaaaaaaa 🥹🥹

The male rivarly too 😩 so well written too!!! Nothing, at least for me, is over the top. Like- it could be true so bad and still it's great enough to create the tension but without making it too heavy and to big of a difference to the general pace of the story 😩😩😩

I really wanna print this

THE SMUT 🥵🥵🥵🥵 DOM BAEK????!!!!!! "GOOD GIRL?????" Oh my everything was too hot I couldn't stop really 😩 and still he's so down for her/us like- dude can't even be playfully threatened she's looking somewhere else he made making her come his life mission! And wow man, wow

As I said, Lisa, loved it all 😭😭😭

Also, Truth be Told 's place is safe! But this one It's definitely a second favourite from now on! You just get better at each time, Lisa 🩷🩷!!!

Thank you for your time and dedication writing this and then sharing it with us! You did amazing 🥹🥹 soooo amazing!

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 16

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 |-| Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Warnings: Some angst but mostly WE'RE SO BACK

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @ginabaker1666

The ATS depot was quiet once more, crickets chirping in the long grass beside the road as Frankie worked away, squinting up at the underside of the jeep she was lying underneath, a pair of pliers clutched in one filthy hand. In the two weeks since The Riveters had gone down, she hadn't touched a plane, let alone stepped foot inside one. Her father had told her to do what she could. But she couldn't go anywhere near a bomber without thinking of what might have happened to Rosie - how scared he might have felt. The feeling made her want to vomit.

"I just think, y'know, that she needs to butt out and mind her business," Ken shrugged, sitting cross-legged on the tarmac beside the car as he picked at his sandwich, ready and waiting by the toolbox for her to have need of him.

"Oh, one hundred per cent. I mean, Helen didn't invite her, I know Gwen didn't - wrench," Frankie interrupted her own gossiping, holding out her hand as Ken pressed the tool into her palm. "No, not that one, the 5 - thanks. But yeah, fucking out of order. It's like Charlotte's wedding all over again."

"... Frankie you didn't go to that."

"I know. But I hang around the ATS now, I'm learning a lotta shit."

Ken opened his mouth to speak again, but his jaw snapped shut at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, turning to stare as George jogged towards them. There was a letter clutched in her hand, sweat beading on her brow as she approached.

He hadn't seen her running like that since...

"Frankie," He uttered urgently, slamming her toolbox shut.

"One sec," Her muffled voice came from beneath the car.

"No - now."

She felt his fist wrap around her ankle, tugging roughly until she finally relented, sliding out from her spot as she wiped a hand across her forehead. "God's sake, what-" Then she saw it too. "...George?"

"Frankie!" George cried, hurrying towards them as the pair scrambled to their feet, brows drawn in identical stares of confusion. When she'd first spotted her, Frankie had felt a jolt of fear shoot through her, panic rising in her chest. But the closer she came... she was smiling.

A huffed groan escaped Frankie as George collided with her, slamming her body against hers as she threw an arm around her shoulders, the other hand pressing the crumpled letter into her chest. Wide-eyed, she glanced back at Ken, who could offer nothing more than a shrug as George pulled away, still beaming.

"George, wh-" Frankie trailed off, pausing to unfurl the letter. But before she could even make out its first line, George was blurting the words.

"He's alive."

The air was unceremoniously punched from her lungs, ripped away so suddenly that she could do nothing more than croak.

"Frankie. Rosie's alive."

She looked down at the page, but found that her vision was suddenly blurred with tears, the letters merging into an indiscernible smudge. Ken was laughing, his laughter turning to whooping as he enveloped George in an embrace, the two spinning slightly on their heels as they wore matching grins, consumed by the euphoria of knowing it wasn't over. Frankie still couldn't quite breathe, pins and needles pricking at her fingertips once again as her heart pumped out of her chest. Everything was moving so fast - so uncontrollably, wonderfully fast that she wasn't sure how much longer she could go without losing consciousness.

"He's... He's alive?" She asked, barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah," George smiled, nodding as she raised her hands to cup Frankie's face, keeping their gazes locked. "He landed behind the Russian line - I dunno where he is right now, but he's coming home, Frank."

Finally, Frankie let herself smile, something between a sob and a laugh tearing its way out of her.

"He's alive," She breathed, collapsing against George in another embrace as she began to weep, smiling even as tears streamed down her cheeks, clutching at her friend so tightly it was as if she were keeping her from shattering, holding every piece of her together at once.

He wasn't gone. That future of hers, which she'd come to take for granted, wasn't gone. She'd been making do - powering through even when she didn't want to, accepting that nothing would ever get as good as it had been. But now it was. Now he was coming back, and it didn't matter if it took a day or a year, because she was going to see him again.

She was going to see him again, and she was gonna marry the hell outta him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, tucking and re-tucking her hair behind her ears over and over again, muttering curses under her breath because why the fuck did it always look wrong? Why couldn't she get it to fall the way it usually did - and why did she care? Frankie Bevan had never once been concerned with appearance or vanity, but suddenly this was the most important thing in the world to her, and the more she untucked and re-tucked her hair, the more she wanted to burst into tears.

"Frank," George spoke softly from where she had been hovering in the doorway, watching silently for the last few minutes.

"It doesn't look right," She complained, frowning back at her tired reflection. "Why doesn't it look right? It never looks like this."

"It... looks like it always does."

Frankie gnawed at her lip slightly as she blinked away the tears, embarrassed that they were even forming. "He'll notice the difference."

"Frank," She scolded. "He will not give a single shit. I promise you, there is literally nothing Rosie cares about less right now than what your fucking hair looks like."

She'd refused to go out to meet him - refused to reunite in front of dozens of crewmen, all aching to congratulate him on his return. She wouldn't deprive the men of that moment, but there was nothing she wanted less than to insert herself into it. She needed to do this part alone.

The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked towards the infirmary, each step feeling like she was treading water, seaweed tangled around her ankles and tugging her downwards. For a regular afternoon in March, this sure was the hardest and bravest thing she'd ever done. But why? Why was she terrified to step inside, to see her Rosie?

Because what if he wasn't her Rosie?

What if whatever had happened to him in the month he'd been gone had changed something, flicked some switch inside him that she couldn't turn off?

And - least rational, but most terrifying of all - what if he didn't need her anymore?

It was as if the air had been sucked from the room the moment she stepped foot in the infirmary, freezing in the doorway as she spotted him, sitting on the edge of his bed, back turned to her. The doctor seemed to gesture towards her before swiftly making his exit, and as Rosie turned to her, indescribable relief washed over his expression, the tears welling in his eyes visible even from this distance. He leapt off of the bed without hesitation, choking on his words as he hurried towards her. "Frankie-"

It had been keeping her up at night - the realisation that she had no idea what she'd say to him in this moment. But in the end, it hadn't mattered, for the second he uttered that first word to her, she had burst into tears, falling against him as his arms were held out to her.

"I thought you were dead," She sobbed, heaving in a breath so forceful it rubbed her throat raw.

"I know, baby, I'm so sorry," Rosie uttered against her ear, and from the way his voice tremored, shoulders shaking, she knew he was crying too.

Frankie pulled away, although every muscle in her body was screaming at her to never let go, and she gave herself a moment to really take him in, brushing the curls away from his face as she began to smile, every line and dimple in his skin precisely where she'd left them. Unwrapping her arms from around his body, she lifted her hands to his cheeks, wiping with the soft pad of her thumb at the tears that had begun to fall. "... You're ok?"

"I'm okay," He nodded hurriedly, wrapping his hands around her wrists as he rubbed gently at the skin, simply holding her in place, desperate to feel her against him again. "... I told 'em all about you."

Her head tilted to the side slightly in question. "Who?"

Rosie chuckled. "Anyone who'd listen." A grin broke its way across her face, and she leaned in to press her lips against his, tasting the salt of tears on her tongue as she did - though whose they were she couldn't tell. His hand was in her hair, the other on her back, melting against her as if they could merge into one, blurring into each other until there was nothing left of the individual self. It was as if his palms had welded to her skin, so resistant were they to ever break apart, foreheads pressed together once they finally came up for air.

"I'll tell you everything," He breathed. "One day."

Whatever had happened, he was haunted by it. She could feel it in the way his fingers trembled against her, the way his eyelids fluttered, shielding his gaze from having to meet hers when he spoke of it. But then their gazes locked, his breath fanning her face, and a gentle smile curled Frankie's lip, her thumb skirting across his cheek.

"Tell me when you're ready. I just need you here."

He smiled in a shaky mirror of her own, pressing another kiss to her lips, which she accepted with a hum, beaming up at him as it came to an end. Despite the exhaustion tugging at his features, Rosie managed a smirk.

"Y'know, I seem to remember you making me a promise last time I saw you."

Frankie let out a low chuckle, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You sure? I'm not sure I remember, sorry."

He grinned, cupping her jaw in his palms. "Think you need a reminder?"

"Might be an idea," She nodded. Their heads tilted towards one another, their noses brushing slightly.

"Well, in that case... Frankie Bevan, will you marry me?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wasted so little time that it was a miracle the wedding came together at all, a hurriedly thrown together affair in the slightly shabby village hall, as it was the only venue they could find close by that wasn't a church. George had leapt into action as if it were her life's very purpose, exiling Blakely on a one-man mission to bring Frankie's father whilst she set to work decorating and haggling to secure as much food as possible. Frankie had never been one for these sorts of things - she wasn't an organiser or a decorator - she had no sense for aesthetics nor taste for formalities. But what she could do was watch George take the reigns, sinking in her element, and accompany her with an open mind and excited smile as everything fell into place.

"Aha!" Frankie declared, holding up a hand in victory as she retrieved the only dress in her possession from the bottom of one of her suitcases. A navy blue tea dress, she'd almost lost count of how many times she'd tried to get rid of it, only for George to intervene, warning her that someday it might come of use. As always, she had been right.

"This works, right?"

"This works," George nodded in confirmation. "As long as you iron out the creases - that's your job while I go make sure Croz has got the rings I sent him for."

Frankie chuckled, splaying the dress flat across her bed. "This delegation stuff seems to be going well, then."

"Well, that's what happens when you ask for a wedding in four fucking days, Frank," George grinned somewhat sarcastically, already on her way out as she spoke, a clipboard with a checklist firmly planted beneath her arm. It was a wonder she had managed to organise anything at all with all the work they still had to do - although Blakely would later inform her that George hadn't done much of her job at all in those four days, spending most of her office hours wrangling anyone willing to help and dishing out tasks. If anything, she could be sure that George's own wedding would be a sight to behold.

When the day itself arrived, Frankie found that she couldn't have cared less what she was wearing or how she looked, scarcely sparing a glance at the mirror as she paced the room, bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. Her father, George and Alice crowded the room, chattering amongst themselves and practically ignoring Frankie as she wandered around, grinning giddily - she suspected they hoped she'd tire herself out, as if she were an overactive toddler who'd had too much sugar.

"Where's Jill?" She asked, suddenly pausing in her strides as she noticed an empty chair, the little girl nowhere to be seen.

"With Rosie," Alice shrugged. "She wanted to be a groomsman instead."

Frankie and George let out matching snorts, exchanging a smile. Of course - it shouldn't have surprised her. Since the day she'd first brought Rosie into the house, Jill was gone, utterly uninterested in anyone else. It was charming really, quite how quickly he managed to endear himself - to get under people's skin and stay there, comfortably familiar.

"Traitor," Frankie teased, attempting to balance on the heel of one shoe. A sudden, sharp knock at the door made them all start, Frankie almost falling over as she wobbled for balance, watching George hurry to answer it.

"Hi!" Ken whispered, prying his face through the tiny gap in the doorway as far as he could. "You look pretty!" He declared, shooting Frankie a thumbs-up.

"D'you need something?" George asked.

He paused momentarily, as if uncertain. "Oh, yeah. We're ready for you in there."

Frankie grinned so hard her teeth were beginning to hurt, reaching out to help her father to his feet. He accepted her hand with a smile, patting her arm affectionately as he hauled himself up with a grunt. "You ready?" He asked.

"God yeah," She scoffed, feeling him squeeze her shoulder. She could see it in his eyes that every step was its own private torture. That goddamn leg had never fit him properly, not since the day he'd come back from the Somme and they'd first strapped it onto him in some shabby hospital. He'd always told her that it had felt fine at the time, but she'd never quite believed him - especially not when she discovered the attending nurse had been her own mother. Frankie suspected a certain amount of bravado had been involved in the decision.

"You sure you've got this?" She asked quietly as they shuffled out, voice hushed to ensure no one overheard.

"Love. I'm not missing this for anything," He beamed, and Frankie nodded, knocking her head gently against his shoulder as they reached the end of the corridor, opening out into the main hall.

All eyes were on her the second she entered the room, but all she saw was Rosie - waiting in his dress uniform, hands folded at his front, smiling so wide she thought he might pass out, tears welling in his eyes visible even from the other end of the hall. Frankie raised a hand, offering a wave before she could think better of it, and from the way his grin parted she could tell he was laughing, even if she couldn't hear it from here. She found her gaze wandering towards her father, tracking his feet as they walked until he pinched at her arm, a silent reminder not to worry about him. She could have moved a million miles away, but she'd never stop worrying about him, never stop looking to him like he'd hung the stars in the sky.

She wished Bucky were here.

As they reached the front of the room, her father squeezed her hand, departing with a smile and a nod and an affectionate pat on Rosie's shoulder, taking his seat without a word.

"Hi," Frankie smiled, voice scarcely even a whisper.

Rosie chuckled, his face flushed scarlet. "Hello."

She swore she must have zoned out for most of the ceremony, too distracted by the excited thumping of her own heart, for when Rosie began to speak it was as if she'd been jolted awake from a deep sleep, blinking in a rapid burst. He held both of her hands in his, squeezing her palms as she met his gaze, lips twisting slightly as if trying to restrain himself from grinning.

"Honey-"

"One sec," Frankie interjected before he could speak his vows, the room falling to awkward silence. For a split second, he looked terrified, and she wanted to scream at how poorly she'd handled the interruption. "... Could we do this bit on our own?"

His lips parted in a smile, beaming down at her as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah - George?"

George was on it before they even had to ask, suppressing a grin as she rose to her feet, herding the other guests out into the hallway until only the pair of them remained. As Jill passed, she frowned at Frankie with such outrage one might have guessed she'd witnessed some sort of heinous crime, but she exited without protest nonetheless. Left alone in the village hall, the room became an echo chamber, the sound bouncing off every wall as Frankie let out a snort.

"Jesus Christ, I can't believe I did that."

Rosie shrugged. "I think it's a nice touch."

"Ok - go, go," She nodded hurriedly, squeezing his hands in return as she bounced on the balls of her feet slightly in a way that made him chuckle.

He opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. Then he stopped.

"Can I be honest with you? I think I just forgot everything I'd written down."

They both began to laugh, leaning forward and only narrowly avoiding headbutting each other in the face. Frankie couldn't stop grinning, cheeks burning red as she nodded. "I lost the piece of paper I'd written mine on this morning - George thought I'd be able to come up with something on the fly, but I don't think I'm that good."

"Is that why you wanted everyone to leave?" Rosie asked, skin creasing with the weight of his smile.

"... A little," She admitted with another snort, and he let out a burst of laughter. "Just make something up, honey, it's good."

He nodded along, squeezing her hands in a vice grip as he began to speak. "Honey... I love you. And I know I say it a lot, but that doesn't make it mean any less, not to me. I have never been so grateful to have met someone in my entire life, and I can promise you that saying yes to marrying you was the easiest decision I have ever and will ever make," Rosie sucked in a deep breath, the air coming through shaky. "When I went down, the only thing I cared about was getting back here, 'cause the idea of leaving you behind was torture. Every time I went up in that ship, I could think about you and then I knew I'd make it home. I woulda crawled outta hell for one more second with you, so now I'm not going anywhere."

Frankie was smiling so hard that she almost hadn't realised she was crying until Rosie lifted a hand to her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "Aw shit," She laughed, leaning into his touch. "I should've gone first. Now whatever I say is gonna look rubbish."

He laughed, shaking his head. "D'you need me to leave the room too?" He offered. She guffawed, smacking him playfully across the chest.

"Shut up! Ok, I've got it," Frankie nodded, taking a breath. "I... never used to think about my future - about where I'd go once this was over, and what I'd do, and who I'd do it with. But... since I've met you I think about it all the time. Because whatever I do, I wanna do it with you. I used to think of myself as someone who just had things happen to them, not someone who did things. But I'm not - and when I do things, I want you to be there. I want to live with you, I want to... fuck it, I mean - we could have a baby - I think I could do that," She nodded somewhat frantically along as Rosie resisted the urge to chuckle, beaming at her every word. "But whatever happens, you're gonna be there, so... It's gonna be okay."

The moment she finished talking, Rosie had swooped in, cupping her jaw in both hands as he pressed his lips to hers with such force she almost lost her balance, grinning against his lips as she threw her arms around the back of his neck. The sheer ridiculous informality of it all hadn't ceased to be anything but hilarious to them since the moment the others had left, and they found that the kiss quickly dissolved into laughter, the pair giggling against each other's lips as they swayed slightly to an imaginary rhythm.

A sudden burst of applause caught them by surprise, tearing themselves apart as they turned to face the end of the room, where the double doors were now open, their friends and family huddled in the doorway cheering. Ken and Blakely were whooping noisily, whilst George and Frankie's father clapped along, until she had to rummage in her pockets for a tissue to dry the old man's tears. Frankie had never seen him blubber, but it was certainly a sight to behold. Squirming her way through the small crowd, Jill appeared from somewhere behind Crosby, sprinting across the hall towards the couple, footsteps echoing noisily against the polished floor.

The girl let out a squeal as she barrelled into Frankie's arms, swooping her up off the ground and swinging her around, their laughter blurring into a single sound as she held the child comfortably against her hip, Jill wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Frankie looked back at Rosie once more, and found he was already staring at her. With a smile, she leaned in and kissed him once more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Music bathed the room, blaring out a beat as people filled the floor, stepping and twirling in time as friendly chatter threatened to drown out the tune. Frankie sat sideways in her chair, leaning back against Rosie's chest as his arm drooped over her shoulders, hanging down across her front as she sipped at the beer bottle in her hand. Bailey had spent the evening ensuring no one ever wanted for a drink, making so many trips to and from the bar that she was sure bystanders were beginning to grow concerned, but as long as he kept her topped up she wasn't going to say anything.

"So..." Ken grinned, taking a sip of his own drink. "Sergeant Rosenthal?"

"What makes you think he's not Major Bevan?" Frankie teased, and Rosie gave her shoulder a small pinch as the briefest flicker of panic crossed Ken's expression, as if he'd somehow been caught saying something he shouldn't, relaxing as she let out a snort of amusement.

"Rosie!" Alice's voice echoed from across the hall, waving to him from the edge of the dancefloor where Jill waited impatiently beside her.

"You owe them a dance, Major," Frankie grunted as she pushed herself up and off him, patting him on the thigh. As he moved to stand, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"If you don't hear from me in the next hour, send a search party," Rosie uttered, making the others laugh as he left to join the girls.

As if on cue, the moment he had left, George swooped in, taking his place as she stole his seat and seized Frankie in a sideways embrace, burrowing her head into the crook of her neck. Accepting this without a word, Frankie wrapped her arms around George's head, partially obscuring her vision as she rested her chin atop her scalp, chest vibrating against her as she chuckled.

"You still love me the most, right?" George joked.

Frankie scoffed. "Oh, obviously," She nodded.

"Even though you're gonna move to America with him like a fucking traitor," George grumbled, pinching at Frankie's side.

She batted her hand away with a chuckle. "Don't say that like you're not coming too - you'll be engaged at the least by the time this is over, I don't think Blakely can hold out much longer."

"... You think?"

"God, he's such a teenager about it - he's always bragging about you when you're not there, it'd be really annoying if it wasn't so sweet."

"Do I need to be here for this?" Ken interjected flatly, staring blankly at the pair as he steadily drained his cup.

"Dude, I don't even remember inviting you to this," Frankie joked as he rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck over here," She grinned.

He stood up somewhat reluctantly, sliding into the seat on her opposite side, and before he could move away she had wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him in against her other shoulder so that Ken and George were both clutched to her sides, laughing to themselves.

"This is pretty good, huh," Frankie nodded, letting out a huff as she looked out across the hall, chuckling as she spotted her father, who was deeply engrossed in conversation with a group of Red Cross girls. "... Y'know, as shotgun weddings go."

George smacked her across the leg, bolting upright, she and Ken sharing identical looks of alarm. "You're not-?"

Frankie snorted, shaking her head. "Nah, I'm taking the piss," She confirmed, and the pair relaxed once more, leaning back against her. "... I did tell him earlier that I thought we could have a baby, though."

"That's way more information than I wanted from you," Ken pointed out, voice muffled against her shoulder.

"D'you think I'd be good at it thought?"

The pair offered up non-committal hums of agreement, hissing as she punched them both in the shoulders. "Jesus!" George yelped. "No, obviously you'd be great, Frank!"

"Thank you," She nodded firmly, suddenly realising that the idea really meant something to her - that the possibility that they didn't think she could do it had hurt. It hadn't been until she'd spoken those slapdash vows - until the words had spewed from her without even thinking - that she'd realised it was even something she might have wanted.

But then she caught Rosie's eye, and he smiled at her from across the hall, holding Alice's hand in one of his and Jill's in the other, the three of them dancing in time to the music. They adored him - truly, utterly adored him - and they had done since the very first time they'd met. If he could do it with them, if he could make those girls love him so much from only a handful of meetings, then how wonderful would he be with his own? Even if the whole thing didn't come naturally to Frankie, she felt safe knowing she had a man like Rosie, a man whom any child could love without having to try, a safety blanket when things got tough.

Maybe it wouldn't have worked with anyone else.

But it would with him.