#if I can get my shit together and stop doing everything else other than writing

[chrisbitchtree]

It’s very frustrating that creating a moodboard and plot outline doesn’t just make the fic appear fully written in your Word document. What’s up with that?

[chuluoyi]

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre/warnings: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took off his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

[halfvalid]

Hiii! If its no trouble could I have a zoro and reader fic with the one bed trope? The others know about their crushes on each other so they force each other to share a room? Anyway they end up cuddling and its all cute (the others will tease them forever about it lol)?? Thankss

intertwined ribbons

ABOUT

alternate title: opla zoro makes my hated tropes less hated

rating: general audiences/teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!nami | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: unbeknownst to you, your crush on zoro is reciprocated. the rest of the straw hats take it upon themselves to get you together by locking you in his bedroom overnight.

tags: strawhat!reader, only one bed, forced proximity, confessions, no use of 'y/n', nami is a true instigator, cuddling, soft zoro, humor

author's note: thank you so much for the request and i hope it meets your expectations!! fun fact i actually used to hate the 'only one bed' trope, so i decided to challenge myself in writing this. and i think it's one of my fave tropes now lol

(you have an inner spirit that helps you make decisions except it’s just nami.)

“I just think that maybe you should stop avoiding him,” Nami started. You bit your cheek, ignoring her as you tied up the last of the ship’s rigging into a careful knot. Nami had been going on for the past few minutes, and you’d zoned out exactly three seconds in, when the name Zoro had first been spoken. Because of this reason you weren’t really listening, so you blinked up at her in confusion. 

“Sorry? Who am I avoiding?” 

“You’re impossible,” Nami grumbled. “And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Which, well, fair. The math added up: you heard the word Zoro, you stopped listening, Nami continued talking until she realized you’d stopped listening. “Especially since you’re, you know—” she gave you another look, eyes rolling over to stare dead into yours— “Avoiding him.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. Nami sighed, leaning over to tug the rope dangling from your hands out of your grip. You tried to reach back for it, but she didn’t let you. “Hey!” 

“Yes, you do. Face it. You’re avoiding Zoro.” 

You made a face at her. “I think there are ropes on the foredeck that I can attend to.” 

“No, there aren’t,” Nami answered. “Now stop changing the subject. There’s this wild concept called communication. It works wonders.” 

“Says you,” you muttered, though your arms crossed defensively across your chest. You noticed the action after a split-second and unwound your arms with a scowl. “Look, I just don’t see the point. And I haven’t been avoiding him.” 

You were, in fact, avoiding him. Ever since that dreadful night a week ago when Nami had gotten you tipsy and stuck her hand in your chest cavity fishing for secrets, you’d been avoiding him. The other girl was ridiculously good at prying truths out of you, and during the conversation, you’d accidentally spilled your crush on the Straw Hat crew’s resident swordsman. 

You’d managed to keep the secret for the months you’d been together, wherein the unfortunate feelings had developed, and you should’ve figured once somebody knew they wouldn’t leave you alone about it. Because Nami refused to talk about literally anything else. You’d expected this sort of behavior from Luffy, or maybe Sanji, but Nami? The world was more amatonormative than you'd thought. 

Nami cast you a look. “You’re blushing.” 

“Am not.”

“Are too. What’s the harm in talking to him?” Nami demanded, one hand on her hip as she stared you down. You gaped at her. 

“Um, literally everything? One, Zoro can’t talk about feelings or emotions for shit, so when he rejects me it’ll be in the most excruciating, offhand manner that will probably leave me at the bottom of a barrel of rum, two, after being rejected I’m going to have to leave the Straw Hats, three—”

Nami rolled her eyes, looking increasingly fed up with you. “For someone so obsessed with not telling our resident grass-headed swordsman about your feelings for him, you’re talking rather loudly.” 

You shut up, snapping your jaw closed with a glare. “Stop it,” you hissed. 

“Besides, who knows if he actually will reject you?” Nami turned to work on the next section of rigging, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You’re catastrophizing.” 

“I’m being realistic,” you snapped. “Okay, fine. He reciprocates my feelings. Then what? We date, we break up because all relationships eventually end, it becomes awkward, and—voila—I’ll have to leave the Straw Hats anyway. It’s a bad idea all around.” 

Nami just let out a huff of breath, the exhale laced with irritation. “Catastrophizing,” she repeated. 

“I am not—”

“Sure. Go help Sanji with dinner.” 

You gave her an exasperated look, but at this point Nami wasn’t paying attention anymore, so you stormed off into the underbelly of the Going Merry. Speak of the devil, apparently, because once you entered the kitchen you spotted not only Sanji occupying it but also Zoro. He was lounging at the table, swords strapped to his waist and a bottle of something he was nursing in hand. 

You averted your gaze from him, head running a million miles a minute. Had he noticed you’d been avoiding him? You’d tried to be furtive about it, but if Nami had noticed, maybe—

“Well, hello there,” Sanji called from where he was in the midst of dinner preparations. “Come to help?” 

“Nami sent me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think she’s appointed herself queen of the Going Merry.” 

“Oh, she did that long ago,” Sanji chided. “You’re only noticing it now. Pick up a knife, then. I’d like some help dicing the carrots.” 

You stiffly moved over to the counter, ignoring Zoro as you went even as you felt his gaze following your figure. You picked up the first knife you found, positioning yourself in front of the cutting board to start dicing the vegetables already laid out for you. Abruptly, Zoro stood up. 

“Heading out,” he muttered. “Call me when dinner’s ready.” 

With that, he left the room, leaving you and Sanji to exchange looks. “He’s moody today,” you said. 

“Probably ‘cause you’ve been avoiding him.” 

You felt the familiar pinprick of a blush starting to warm your cheeks. “You too?” 

“You’re rather obvious about it,” Sanji said with a raised eyebrow. “But enough of that.” Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to question why. There was no way Nami had told him, so you were left confused, but no matter. The point was that for now, you were safe. 

The hour dipped to evening, and soon the moon was glowing in the sky, a shining beacon of white amidst the ocean of stars and shimmering sea. You suppressed a yawn, busing the dishes from dinner as the rest of the crew got up from their respective seats to dissolve to their own rooms. Zoro had already retired for the night—if you were avoiding him, he seemed to be doing the exact same—so at least you didn’t have that to worry about. 

“Ah, wait,” Nami said, after you’d finished washing the dishes and was ready to head out. “Zoro wants to talk to you.” 

You jolted, glancing nervously around you before grabbing her wrist. “What did you do?” you hissed. Nami just laughed. 

“Calm down. I didn’t do anything.” Off your glare, she relented. “I promise. And I swear it’s not about feelings or emotions or whatever. Even though it’s obvious you’re avoiding him, you know Zoro wouldn’t say anything.” 

You were still suspicious, but you dropped your hand. “What, then?” 

Nami shrugged, tilting her chin up just so. “I guess you’re going to have to find out.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you muttered. There was that look in her eye, the one she got whenever she was thinking of something truly devious. Still, you couldn’t figure out what she was up to, so— “Fine, I’ll go to his room. Walk me.” 

Nami rolled her eyes, but she fell into step with you as you made your way across the ship. “You should bring it up to him, you know,” she started, but silenced after your sharp glare. “Okay, okay. I get the point. I’ll stop bothering you about it.” 

You stopped by the mouth of Zoro’s door. “Wait, really?” 

“Yes, really,” Nami said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll leave you alone about Mr. Prince Charming over there. Knock.” 

“You can't call him Mr. Prince Charming,” you said, though you did knock. “Prince’ is already a title.” 

Nami gave you a look. “Okay, smart-ass.” 

The door creaked open before you could give your response, and you turned, heart pounding in your throat as Zoro stared down at you. His arm was propped up by the open doorway, the other hand still clutching the doorknob. “What.” 

“Um, Nami said that you wanted to talk—” you swiveled your head towards the other girl, but before you could finish your sentence, Nami was raising up your arm and unceremoniously shoving you into the room. 

You shrieked in surprise as you fell into Zoro’s figure, stumbling into him and causing him to lose his balance. Your head shot up in offense, only to see the gleam of a golden padlock in Nami’s hand before she was yanking the door closed.

A dull click echoed through the room. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was your own heavy breathing and the sound of Zoro gathering himself.

“Did she just—” You gaped at the closed door. “Lock us in?” 

Zoro swiftly pushed past you, jiggling the doorknob for a few moments before giving up. Sure enough, Nami had sealed it with the padlock from the outside, so there was no possibility of either of you getting out of the room. You could vaguely hear sounds from the outside—dull thuds and scrapes—and watched as Zoro started banging on the door. 

“Nami,” he called, voice dangerously low. “Let us out.” 

“Sorry, Zoro!” Your jaw practically unhinged from your skull once you heard your captain’s familiar voice, all bright and cheerful like always. “We’re putting barrels in front of the door, so don’t even try breaking it down. Have a good night!” 

“Luffy? What are you—” Zoro’s knocking quickened in pace, his voice getting increasingly louder. There was no response from outside, though you could hear snickers that sounded suspiciously like Usopp. What was going on? 

You kicked into action, joining Zoro by the door and trying the door handle again. “Nami!” you yelled. 

Nami’s soft laugh came from outside. “Sorry!” she called. “We’ll let you out in the morning.”

You gaped at the door, only aware of Zoro’s gaze sliding down to you as you dropped your hand from the doorknob. There were some more tigers from outside, and then receding footsteps. Zoro tried knocking one last time, but it was evident that the rest of the crew had all but abandoned you. 

“Okay,” Zoro muttered, moving away from the door. “I need a drink.” 

You watched him move across the room, picking up a glass from his bedside table that was only slightly full. He knocked it back in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Um, what now?” you asked uncomfortably. 

“Nothing. Whatever,” Zoro said, turning to glance over at you. After a moment’s thought, you noticed that he refused to look you in his eye—his gaze was firmly trained at a spot beside your head. He turned away, stripping off his sword scabbard and setting them on the floor. 

You glanced around nervously. Zoro’s room wasn’t that different from yours, really—less decorated, but the constitution was the same. There was the bed, a wardrobe, a desk with various paraphernalia across it, and a little couch in the corner too. “You can look through the closet for something to sleep in. I’ll take the chair.” 

The words didn’t register at first, and you were left standing there, staring as Zoro kicked off his shoes and assumedly started getting ready to sleep. “Um, what?” 

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. “They’re not letting us out until morning,” he said slowly. “You can take the bed. Might as well sleep.” 

“It’s your room,” you started, crossing your arms. “I can sleep in the chair. I’m smaller than you, anyway, so I’ll fit it better.” 

Zoro regarded you with such a reproachful look you almost wanted to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Change.” With that, he turned around, leaving no room for discussion. You stared at him for a second before giving up, moving to his wardrobe and opening it up to search for something to sleep in. 

“So, uh, any ideas on why they stuck us in here?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. Whatever Nami thought locking you in a room with Zoro would achieve, you were stubbornly not going to let her be right. God, you were so going to kill her once you got out of there. 

“Nope,” Zoro said, with such a degree of finality you figured it wouldn’t be safe to question him further. “They’re just stupid.” 

“I mean, I feel like they would have a motive?” You rifled through his clothes, trying very hard to detach them from their owner. Wearing Zoro’s clothes was not something you wanted your mind to linger upon. Eventually you found a shirt of his that would undoubtedly be oversized on you, and you hastily changed into it, satisfied to find it draped well to your knees so you weren’t exposing too much skin. 

You stole a glance over your shoulder at Zoro, only to catch him in the action of peeling his shirt off. The stretch of the muscles in his back gleamed in the dim light of the room, and you tore your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “Um. Anything?” 

“Nope,” Zoro repeated. Carefully, you closed the wardrobe door, lingering in one spot with your hands clenched together. Once you heard him start moving again, you deemed it safe enough to turn towards the rest of the room. He’d changed into a loose tan shirt, and had settled back into the chair. 

“I said I’d take the chair,” you told him hotly. 

“Yeah, and I said no,” Zoro said, tone dismissive. He had his eyes closed, and you stared at him in disbelief. 

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” you said, and then, just to emphasize your point, plopped down on the floor. Zoro cracked an eye open and stared down at you. He sighed. 

“Get up. Don’t be stupid.” 

“I’m not being stupid,” you said. “It’s your room. It’s your bed. You will sleep on it. If you’re not giving me the chair, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

Zoro let out a long sigh, closing both his eyes as if he was contemplating all his life decisions. “I’m not sleeping in the bed, you know,” he said. 

“Okay, so neither of us do.” 

Zoro’s brows creased, and he opened his eyes to glare down at you. “Seriously? At least take the chair, then. I’ll sleep on the flo—”

You gave him a sharp look. “Zoro.” 

“This conversation isn’t getting anywhere,” Zoro muttered, and finally got up from his chair. You glanced up at him expectantly. “What can I do to convince you to take the bed?” 

“Uh, nothing.” 

“We can work out a compromise,” Zoro said with a sigh. “I want you on it, and you want me on it, and neither of us are willing to take it ourselves.” He paused, brow creasing as an idea seemed to form in his head—one he didn’t seem to be a giant fan of, but an idea nonetheless. “How about.” His lips pursed, before he parted them again to finish his sentence. “How about we both take it?” 

It felt like someone had hit you square in the chest, air kicking out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. Your windpipe was all raw, and you had to fight to tear any words out from your throat. “Ex—excuse me?” 

“It’s big enough,” Zoro said stiffly, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “I can take one side and you can take the other. Since you’re so dead-set on me sleeping on it.” 

“I—” You cut yourself off, suddenly far too aware of Zoro’s eyes fixed on you. Watching your every move. Oh, Nami was in for it now. How were you supposed to survive sleeping in the same bed as—you didn’t even want to think about it. 

“Well?” Zoro prompted. 

“Fine,” you agreed hastily, ducking your head lest Zoro catch any of the flush that was undoubtedly rising steadily up your cheeks. It was bad enough you were stuck in his bedroom and wearing his clothes—but this had quickly become your own personal circle of hell. “Good enough for me.” 

“Finally.” With that, Zoro climbed into bed, settling himself on the very edge of its side. Your throat had gone dry, and you stared at him for another second before hurriedly turning away to flick the lights off. You approached the other side of the bed with an extreme lack of enthusiasm, staring at the empty sheets like they were cackling up at you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Eventually you slid into the bed, busying yourself with arranging the blankets around your figure. Zoro’s breaths were steady and deep from beside you. You didn’t know what to do for a second, but then Zoro’s voice was cutting through the darkness. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

You jolted, then suppressed your sigh. “Have not.” 

“Yes, you have, and everyone knows it, and you’re not very subtle,” Zoro said, sounding almost bored as he rattled off the words. “Why.” 

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t.” 

You ran your tongue along your teeth, sucking at the valleys between them in annoyance. “It’s not important.” 

Zoro paused before speaking, like he was mulling over asking the question. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see. The sound did well enough to indicate the action to him, though—he scoffed, a low murmur from his chest that buzzed through your nerves. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re giving the rest of the crew what they want.” 

“They definitely did not lock you in here to talk about why you’re avoiding me,” Zoro muttered. Now it was your turn to scoff, because if only he knew. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?" 

“Positive. It’s all me.” 

“Okay, so why?” Zoro prompted. You swallowed hard, trying to dodge around the subject. “Are you sure—”

“Please just stop talking,” you said, one hand reaching out to grip his arm as if the physical contact would make him shut up. There was a stagnant moment of silence, your breath catching as your brain caught up to your body. Your hand was on Zoro’s arm. Your hand was on Zoro’s bicep, and you were in his bed. 

You cleared your throat, a panicked choke bursting from your lungs. “Um.” Your eyes skittered sideways, and then you finally turned on your side to stare at him. To stare at where your hand was still clutched around his arm.

You could just barely make out the angle of his jaw in the darkness, but you could see it was clenched, the vein along his neck protruding just slightly. Hastily, you removed your hand, the skin of your fingers tingling like you could still feel him underneath the tips. “Sorry. Why—why are you so certain that you did something for me to avoid you?” 

There were a few moments of silence that ticked by, nothing but the rock of the ship interrupting it. Finally, Zoro spoke. “Because the reason they locked you in my room is because—”

“What? The reason they locked me in your room is because of me,” you said. Zoro finally moved from his position, head tilting to face yours so you were eye-to-eye. You swallowed. “Nami, um—Nami specifically forced me in here so I would… talk to you.” 

There was a question evident in Zoro’s voice. “About?” 

Your lips parted, and then closed again. “Um.” 

“We can just sleep, if you want,” Zoro muttered. 

“What if they don’t let us out in the morning because we haven’t talked, though?” you hissed. Zoro let out a low laugh. 

“You realize you’re giving them exactly what they want.” 

“So you’d be more comfortable if we just… fell asleep?” you asked. Zoro shrugged. Since you weren’t exactly averse to the idea of not confessing, you nodded in agreement, heart beating a million miles a second. “Okay. Fine by me.” 

You settled back into your pillow, but soon came to realize that, due to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and the fact you were very aware of the man of your affections being barely a foot to your right, you could not sleep. Evidently Zoro felt the same way, because he kept shifting around under the blankets—your hands brushed against each other a few times before he jolted away like you’d burnt him. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t say anything in response. Somewhere in the back of your head, you could hear Nami hissing at you—I didn’t shove you in a room with Mr. Prince Charming just for you to not take advantage of the opportunity. You tried to get her out of your brain—it was a bad idea all around—but the words kept reverberating around in your mind until you found yourself suddenly speaking. “Zoro?” 

“Hm?” 

“Nami stuck me in here so I would tell you that, um—” 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro murmured, and you shivered, his voice sounding suddenly closer. You squirmed, your hand brushing against Zoro’s again, except this time it took him a delayed moment to drift away. He had gotten closer—or maybe that was you, instinctually leaning towards the dip in the middle of the bed when you’d been lost in thought. 

“The reason they locked me in here with you is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” you blurted, the words slurring together, consonants and syllables all in one rush. “Because I have them. Feelings, I mean.”

Zoro’s voice was very low when he spoke. “Excuse me?” 

You sat straight up, the blankets previously nestled around your chin falling to your waist. “I have feelings for you and that’s why everyone locked me in here.” 

“I—” Zoro coughed, and then coughed again, ridding his throat of whatever was preventing him from making full sentences. He slowly sat up, and you stared down at the blankets in your lap as you saw him rise to his full height beside you. And oh, this was it. He was about to reject you in the most excruciating, offhand manner that would probably leave you at the bottom of a barrel of rum. “That’s not possible.” 

“Why is that—” you decided to shut up instead of finishing your sentence, allowing him to speak instead. There was a soft burning starting at your skin, all red hot, and your brain buzzed, regret filling up your lungs and making it hard to breathe. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you heard his hand before you felt it. It slid across the bedsheets before finally resting beside yours, fingertips grazing against your knuckles. “Zoro?” you whispered. 

“The reason they locked you in here with me is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” Zoro said blankly. You blinked. It took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t just quoting you—that he hadn’t switched the pronouns accordingly. Your heart dropped. 

Your voice was very faint when you spoke. “What?” 

“I like you,” Zoro said carefully. Languidly, the words dripping off his tongue all saccharine-sweet like molasses, or honey. You shivered, your hand accidentally knocking against his, and he took the opportunity to draw it in closer, fingers pushing up your palm, just a hair’s breadth away from interlacing with yours. “Luffy unfortunately found out. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret and told the rest of the crew.” 

You gaped at him. “I like you,” you said, dumbfounded. You could feel yourself trembling, fingers sliding against Zoro’s hand with every shake. “Nami yanked it out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you for the past week.” 

“I thought you were avoiding me because you found out I liked you,” Zoro muttered. His fingertips brushed against the pads of your hand, and you swallowed, mouth all dry. “So.” 

You tentatively lifted your gaze, finding Zoro’s eyes even amidst the darkness. They were shining, a slight glint from the moon coming in through the window reflecting along the shadows of his face. Carefully, his hand slid fully into yours, fingers lacing together, and it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. 

Zoro slid back down onto his back, tugging you along with him. You settled back on your pillow, using your other hand to pull the blankets back over your chest. For a full stagnant minute the two of you lay there, hands intertwined in the space between. 

You were the one who made the first move, then, thumb running up and down the length of his index finger. Zoro ran with the action, tugging your hand just slightly until you were leaning into the dip of the mattress, gravity pulling you closer to his body. 

He lifted your entwined hands, tugging you towards him until your back was pressed right to his chest. Then he settled your arms back down again, the back of his palm resting against your belly. 

You swallowed hard, able to hear the sound of your throat in the utter silence. Zoro exhaled, his breath softly brushing against your neck. “Good night,” you whispered. 

Zoro pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, a ghost of something that left tingles fluttering down your spine, the drunken butterflies in your stomach swaying at the action. “Good night,” he murmured, and your breath caught. 

He was warm, oh so warm, like a campfire with licks of flame that softened your hands in the dead of night. And even though you wanted to speak up, question when he’d started liking you, if he was lying or not—you were content to stay here in his arms and drift off to sleep.

So you did, settling back into his embrace with your head spinning and senses murmuring, all dizzy like you were caught in a dream. Eventually, your tiredness got the better of you, and you felt your senses fading as the world around you darkened to black. 

The two of you jolted awake to the knocking and the very unpleasant hum of Nami’s voice. “Rise and shine!” she called through the door, and you blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light as you suppressed your yawn. 

Zoro jolted up beside you, practically giving you whiplash as his arm was still comfortably around your waist. Your fingers tingled, and you realized that you’d fallen asleep with your hands laced together. 

“Nami,” you grumbled, about to rise out of bed before Zoro stopped you. You turned towards him in question, only to stop short as you registered the look in his eyes. His gaze was deep, piercing; those butterflies rose up again in your stomach, apparently awake after they’d passed out from their drunken stupor. You swallowed. “Hi?” 

“Hey,” he murmured. “They locked you in my room.” 

“I’m going to knock Nami over the head with a rowboat oar,” you said blandly, eyes flickering towards the door, which Nami was still pounding on. You vaguely heard shuffling sounds, like the crew were working to move the barrels they’d stuck in front of the door to free you from your prison. “You can have the rest of them, if you want.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Zoro agreed. “But first…” 

“First?” you prompted. 

Zoro brought your hands—still intertwined—to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and awkward, like he wasn’t used to letting the words out of his mouth. He let your hands drift to his lap, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours.

A faint sigh escaped your lips when he finally kissed you. It wasn’t rough or hard; it was a soft press, like your hands had been just a few hours ago. There was a degree of finality to it; a held-in breath that’d exhaled from your lungs, one you hadn’t realized was building up that much pressure until you finally let it all go. 

The door flung open, and you jolted away, but Zoro tilted your head back towards him before you could. At the mouth of the room, Luffy had started screaming. “Aww,” Nami cooed. Behind her, Usopp and Sanji were gripping onto each other like they were watching a particularly engaging fight. 

A steady blush rose along your cheeks, but Zoro was absolutely shameless, the hand not held in yours raising up to give them the finger. “Get out of my room.”

“Told you it’d be okay,” Nami sing-songed, and then you really did break away from Zoro, picking up the object nearest to you and barrelling towards her. She shrieked, dodging out of the doorway as Zoro laughed from behind you.

“Wait!” she stopped you from whacking your pillow against her head, raising up her arms in defense. “I was right. I saw you two—” 

“Nami,” you started, dangerously low. “You locked me in his room.”

“Yeah, to help you!” she cried defensively, slowly taking backwards steps as you gained on her. “Come on. We can talk about this.” 

“Good luck,” Zoro called out from behind you—you turned around, catching his gaze. He had gotten up, leaning against the doorway and watching you with a sparkle of fondness in his eye. “You’ll need it.” 

You blew him a kiss, ignoring the long groan it pulled out of Luffy from beside Zoro in the hallway. And then you turned around. Nami had darted off, taking the time you’d been distracted to run off. “Oh no you don’t!” you yelled, and then lunged after her with Zoro laughing all the while. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, you thought. But you were still going to beat Nami’s ass. 

© halfvalid 2023

[talkbycolor]

monster x mediator headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; mghmgh lo necesito (sexual)

Pairing; "NauseAxe_404" x GN!Reader

CW; weird shit? no bro only him mutilating you / feeling unsafe (cutely) / MONSTER COCK MY FAVORITE / smooching the monster under your bed

404 as delulu king

i need him to have a long tongue, its canon in my head

before you even met, he swore you were a couple, he'll propose to you in a cringe-y way if you decide to stay in the room for more than five minutes

He will cut off your arms and legs as long as you don't escape, but don't worry, he will take good care of you and will look for other ways so you can continue writing

if you stay in the room, you can sleep in his bed, he will sleep under it (we all know he will get up while you sleep to hug you)

you can't talk to another human or monster anymore, you were supposed to be together forever, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO GET CLOSE TO SOMEONE ELSE, IF THEY SEE YOU THEY WILL LOVE YOU AND HE DON'T WANT THAT

the walls of his room are full of drawings of you and him, photos too since his artistic skills cannot portray your beauty very well and to be honest, neither can the cameras but he loves to see you wherever he turns his gaze

no matter how scared or angry you look, in his eyes, you would never do anything wrong, it is impossible for his superstar to make a mistake in any way, all your writings are perfect, your voice, your body, your eyes, your skin, your teeth, your hair, everything

he's basically a dog, he can't help but gasp with excitement when he sees you, rubbing his crotch against you, drooling in your face even if you complain, he's not going to stop

"you bruise so beautifully", imperfections do not exist, he may be fucking you until he tears you but his look of love will not disappear, on the contrary, he will fall in love with your whimpers, with how you scream in such an adorable way

on the contrary, if you seem bored, he will ask you to hit him, take off his pants, cover him with bruises, all for love (cuarteto referencia)

you are still human, you need to eat, sleep, breathe. WELL FUCK YOU, you won't go anywhere even if it's just to look for food, you can sleep in his bed, you can breathe his air if you have to but don't go DON'T GO DON'T GO DON'T GO DON'T GO

to be honest, you wouldn't be able to stand his pace, he'll fuck you until you vomit, even if you're bleeding, he'll feed you his saliva and your limbs will give in sooner than you think. but don't worry, he will continue loving your corpse

how many opportunities would you have to dress your superstar? He would take the opportunity to get adorable clothes and dress yourself with his own hands, putting slippers on your feet, cute bows in your hair, you don't need underwear, awww, look at you! such a pretty doll

he would never let you touch his axe, i'm sorry my love, but you have to respect his limits in the relationship, if you don't, do you really love him? of course he would never doubt the love you have for him! he just want understanding from you, dear

if you are willing, i also understand you, if they do give you the option to fuck a monster, you just take it but keep in mind that you will not be able to go to the hospital, that night you will know the true meaning of monster cock, it does not fit through your mouth and i highly doubt that it will fit your ass

even though he looks so desperate and willing to do unethical things, your biggest fan is a little shy. if you show him affection or interest, the red on your lips will sync perfectly with the red in his eyes. isn't that romantic?

he's smarter than you think, he probably used his ax quite a bit before you showed up at the hotel. it is a relief that you had never covered the camera of your cell phone or computer while you masturbated, after showering, while sleeping even, and yes, he obviously hacked your electronic devices

idk man, he seems pretty acoustic to me, you and axes as special interests, unstable reactions to changes he cannot control, poor understanding of other people's body language or facial expressions, specific way to organize or have his room

"babe give me a reason not to kill those who look at you" "you can't fuck me if you're in prison"

no es un chico malo, solo quiere ser él mismo

"everyone is so mean to me"

MAN I JUST LOVE HIM MY DELULU KING UEUEUUE

you don't have to say "I can fix him", he himself will tell you "FIX ME" (spoiler: you cant)

he looks cute when he cries, doesnt he?

♡

[sooniebby]

hiiiiii!! If you're comfortable with writing for Gojo Satoru could you please write a Smut Drabble for him? Something like Reader having a crush on him and thought he was hiding it very well but word got out fast about it, and Gojo found out so he started to tease reader about it. Idk how it can move into nsfw, you can freestyle that part!! but I would like to have some spanking, light degrading and size kink mixed into it. ONLY IF THATS OKAY OFC 😭

ఌ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

꧁ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Smut 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

It was awkward. Very awkward.

The moonlight seeped into your room through your windows. The fan sputtering away—on its last breath—brought a coolness to the room. You should probably replace it soon.

The cold bed sheets beneath you that you held limply in your hands. No point in covering up—he already saw you. You were naked—full on naked.

“When I heard you say my name…” Gojo closed the door behind him, a shit eating grin on his lips. “I thought you needed something.”

You pressed your legs together, desperately trying to hide your leaky cock.

And the dildo in your ass.

“I… uh—I thought the rooms had better…. Uh….. y’know….?” You closed your mouth in embarrassment. Maybe you should just not talk.

Gojo simply laughed, taking off his glasses as he walked over to you. His eyes trailed over your body—as if he was taking in everything about you. He placed his glasses on your nightstand and placed his hands on his hips.

“Well, don’t stop just because of me.”

“Excuse me?”

You stared at Gojo with a look of horror as he moved over to sit down on the bed right in front of you. A good angle to see everything despite your legs. He didn’t look weirded out about hearing his classmate moan his name.

No, he looked interested.

“C’mon. It must be painful, huh? You seemed close before I came in.”

You bit your lip, waiting to see if he’d just start laughing. That’ll he state he was just joking and he’ll maybe just forget all about this embarrassing night. But he only stared at you, watching you carefully as he waited for your performance.

Well, if he’s asking for it, who were you to question it?

Parting your legs, you reached down and grasped the dildo that nestled nicely inside of you. It was a 8 inch dildo you bought online. One of your favorites, really. You didn’t have to try much for this one to reach your prostate.

You kept your eyes solely on yourself as you slowly pulled the dildo out. With your free hand, you began to twist your nipples while thrusting the dildo in and out.

Gojo was right though—you were certainly close when he came barging in.

Your toes curled as you moaned each time the dildo grazed your prostate. The sounds of your quiet whimpers filled the room. The fact that Gojo was in the room soon left your mind as you focused solely on your release.

“Have you done this for anyone else?”

You grunted in confusion, glancing at Gojo as you noticed that he was way closer than earlier. When did he get so close to you? Surely you would’ve heard him move.

“What..? Only you.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you slutting out to anyone else.”

The fact Gojo essentially called you a slut didn’t matter to you. What mattered to you was that Gojo wanted you to himself. That just made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You could feel yourself clench around the dildo.

“Do… do you want to do it…?” You asked, looking away in embarrassment. Sure, in other times your dildo could get you to cum but there was a guy in your room. A guy you liked for a minute now.

Having a real cock would be hundred times better than a plastic one.

“Do it?” Gojo smirked. “You’re cute, (L.Name).” He got off the bed and began to undress—much to your shock. Gojo’s body was better to see in its full glory. He was toned—as if he was gaining more muscle everyday. It made you wonder how he will look when he’s older.

You shook your head—face feeling hot as you reached down and pulled out the dildo from your ass. Gojo joined you on the bed after getting fully undressed. He looked unreal.

“It’s your first time, yeah?”

You nod mutely, watching as Gojo took the dildo from your hand and placed it on your nightstand. He looked it for a moment before smirking.

“Wow, are you a size king? That’s pretty big, (L.Name).”

“I didn’t mean to order it so big…” you pouted.

“Hope I’m not too small for you,” he joked.

You looked to see how long Gojo’s cock was and gasped at it. Sure, it might’ve been only 6 inches compared to the 8 but it was thick. Very thick. Compared to the dildo that was more skinny in width. Oh, you were going to feel the stretch with his cock.

Gojo grinned as he leaned over and pulled you into a chaste kiss, “don’t worry, you can handle it.”

He grasped your waist and easily manhandled you to sit on his lap. His cock nestled right between your ass cheeks, narrowly avoiding your lube slicked asshole. Gojo hummed as he moved his hand down towards your ass and gently squeezed it.

“Oh, nice ass.”

You muttered out a thanks as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Gojo seemed to be thinking for a moment as he kneed your ass before a playful smirk appeared on his lips.

“Since it’s your first time, I’ll let you take the lead.”

He laid down on the bed, his grip on your ass loosening as he lightly tapped it. You weren’t exactly sure if you could really take the lead but decided maybe you could possibly wow Gojo if you did it well enough.

You just prayed your legs could handle it.

Gojo was true to his word in letting you take the lead as he simply watched you grab his cock and press it against your asshole. It took a few tries before you were able to line it up properly. You slowly sinked down on it—whimpering at the painful stretch his cock gave you.

A gasp left your lips once you finally had his cock fully inside of you. The feeling was good. Too good… your cock didn’t last a second. You gripped at Gojo’s chest as you pitifully came, coating his stomach. Soft moans left your lips as you arched your back in pleasure.

Fuck, you didn’t even last a minute.

You felt embarrassed. God, no way in hell would Gojo fuck you again. Embarrassingly enough, you could feel a few tears prick your eyes. What if this was your one chance to get Gojo to date you?

“Gojo… ‘m sorry…” you turned your attention over to Gojo—expecting to see him be disappointed but much to your surprise… he looked…

Horny?

“Fuck, (L.Name). That was sexy as hell.” Gojo said, grasping your waist. “Think you got a second load in ya?”

“Wha—ngh?!” You gasped out in shock as Gojo began to easily lift you up and down onto his cock. There was no need for you to even move your legs, Gojo was able to use you like a fleshlight easily.

He moved one hand to your cock and began to stroke it to life. Shockingly enough, you did have another load in you. Your cock shot to life as his cock narrowly touches your prostate with each thrust.

Gojo grunted as he sat up, pulling you off his cock. You whimpered in surprise—reaching out towards him. He pressed a wet kiss to your neck as he manhandled you to kneel on your knees. Gojo moved to be right between your legs with his hands gripping your ass cheeks as he spread them apart.

Without any warning, he shoved his cock right back inside of you. You screamed out, gripping the bed sheets beneath you. This position was different. His cock reached your prostate with tho each thrust—much easier than your earlier one.

He rutted into you, earning gasps and moans as your cock began to leak precum. His much larger body easily covered you as he leaned over on top of you.

“(L.Name), you feel good. So warm.. can I slap your ass? It’s fun watching it jiggle.” Gojo whispered into your ear. You could only cry out in pleasure—too far gone to actually reply. His cock was stretching you and reaching in areas that you didn’t even know existed.

Fuck—that dildo of yours was no longer needed if Gojo was going to always be here.

You were too deep in thought about if you needed to throw away your dildos when a slap was delivered onto your ass. A shriek left your throat in full on shock. You forget he even asked that.

The sounds of skin slapping and the squelching from the copious amount of lube you had used earlier accompanied your screams. You felt close. So close .

You felt overstimulated with the constant pressure on your prostate. Your cock was weeping, wanting to cum already. You slowly reached down to jerk yourself off only for Gojo to grab your hand.

His hand was so big. It engulfed your hand easily. You were mad that you could’ve jerk yourself off but also in glee that he wanted to hold your hand.

This wasn’t supposed to be your first hand holding with him but you’d take it.

You weren’t even supposed to have sex either.

“Gojo….” You whimpered.

“Satoru.”

“Satoru…” you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. First name basis. God, you really lucked out huh? Satoru pulled out—much to your disappointment—as he flipped you over into your back. He easily slipped right back in as he continued his harsh thrusts.

It was odd to be face to face. You hoped he didn’t mind your face. Satoru leaned down and kissed you. Oh you loved kissing him. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held him close.

It was long before you both reached your orgasm—moaning into the kiss. His hot cum filled you with a much needed warm. Your cum was hot on your own stomach as well.

Satoru pulled away from the kiss, a smile graced his features as he gently stroked your cheek.

“You’re pretty, (Name).”

You could feel yourself blush. This was better than anything you ever dreamed of. All that pining you did seemed to finally pay off. Gosh, you hoped this wasn’t a dream. But by the feeling of cum dripping onto the bed—you were sure this was real.

Before you could return the compliment—there was a harsh knock on the wall.

“Go to bed!” Geto yelled, his tone clearly annoyed.

These thin walls, huh?

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

First time writing for Gojo, hope y’all like it!

Tag list: @nakedtoasterr @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life69 @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @dabisbratz

[flwernyrvie]

𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿!𝗝𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘀 𝗩𝗲𝗹𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ!: smut, mentions of pregnancy, possessive!Jacaerys, incest, Reader has long silver hair but dark brown eyes, a year younger than Jace, reader likes snakes, both characters are 18+!!

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x sister!reader, mentions of betrothal to Daeron.

Author’s note!: This is also my first time writting here but I am currently writing on wattpad, its a Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon!reader so check it out (@flwernyrvie).

Younger Jace!

Is definitely protective of you seeing how you’re the only daughter and only sister of theirs.

Would listen to you talk about your dreams and explanation of snakes and why they are so wonderful.

You two (including Luke) would always ride your dragons together.

Definitely would shield you away from the rumors about your parentage like how he do the same to Luke and Joffrey.

Would read to you about your favorite stories every night.

Spoils you in anyway he can. Like get you snakes from kingswood, or get your favorite flowers from the garden, etc.

Older Jace!

WOULD absolutely not let any men go near you, except of it’s luke or any of your brothers.

If someone did try and talk to you, he would pull you away from them making a excuse then would probably scold you for talking to another man and after the lectures he gave you, he would not leave your side.

He’ll probably glare at any men that would try to have an conversation with you and would tell them to fuck off in a nice way, (like the way he silenced Aegon in s1 ep 8?)

Of course Rhaenyra wouldn’t be too fond of knowing your brother is not letting you talk to other people and only to him and your siblings and would be rude to others when trying to have a nice conversation with you.

Of course this limitation of having the freedom to talk to people would affect you for finding a future husband but Jace doesn’t care about that because if your mother didn’t find any men to betrothed you to she’ll have to go to the obvious one, which is him.

Until your Grandsire announcement that you are to wed his youngest son, Daeron.

This made Jace angry that, that night after your grandsire made that announcement he marched his way to your chambers and fucked the living shit out of you. While whispering filthy things in your ear.

“How dare he betrothed you to him?” “Does he not know you belong to me?” “I’ll make him know.. we’ll make him know won’t we? Dōna mandia.” “Fuck we better stay quiet Issa jorrāelagon..” “You’ll give me my heirs, won’t you? Issa dōna mandia.” “Daeron will never make you feel this way, only I can.”

He didn’t stopped until the sun came up making sure his strong seed was planted on your womb, creating a life.

Jacaerys didn’t want to do that of course but he was desperate, desperate to have you, desperate to spend his entire life with you, desperate to have you be his wife and be your husband, desperate to make you happy knowing damn well their uncle cannot make you happy as he can.

One moons after that fateful night, your mother noticed how you’ve yet not bleed and is showing the signs of pregnancy. She brushed this off knowing you wouldn’t do such a thing but after another month went by she called you into your chambers to confront you.

You confessed and told your mother everything and Rhaenyra was not happy.

First of all, Jacaerys ruined you and he impregnated you nonetheless, second you are already betrothed to Daeron and was expected to marry him next year.

Daemon however found this amusing and even laughed at his step-sons boldness. He requested that you and Jacaerys should be married or else whispers might happen if not.

So that’s what happened, in less than a month you and Jace are married. You two of course had a secret wedding but when your grandsire found out Rhaenyra married you to Jacaerys he got mad but he cannot undo it now as you both already consummated the marriage.

Jacaerys however was more than happy at this. He gets to have you and you get to have him, a happy ending for all.

Seven moons later, you gave birth to your son Laenor. Two moons early to everyone’s shock.

[qlossytbh]

Hello my love can you do a spencer reid x reader who experiences olfactory hallucinations (smelling things that arent there) please i just scared the shit out of myself cus i smelled a burning power outlet for like an hour 😭 the whole time i was unplugging everything and i thought my house was going to catch on fire 😰 i want him

𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬- 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you experience olfactory hallucinations and spencer’s there to experience the rollercoaster that come with it lol

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fem!reader, established relationship, just a lot of fluff, allergies (ugh), reader is freaking out (anxiety), me pretending to be science-y and act like i know what im writing about!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i actually loved this request because I myself experience olfactory hallucinations due to my allergies and it’s really cool seeing someone else who has it! i unfortunately smell a wide varieties of things such as spoiled food, clogged toilets (yay!), and tobacco (love that for me)

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You rubbed your right eye vigorously, sniffling loudly with a following groan. Your hand then fell to its familiar rhythm, writing down your notes as you tried copiously to ignore the stuffiness that enclosed throughout your throat and nose. Your face itched gratingly, the corners of your eyes running with tears that wouldn’t seem to leave no matter how many times you tried blinking them away.

You had taken your allergy medication about thirty minutes ago and it wasn’t easing up— you felt puffy and somewhat aggravated.

Your T-shirt hung around your hips loosely, bunched up onto the chair you sat on at the desk of Spencer’s apartment, completing an assignment you needed to get done for your current job. Your hair was damp, ends still wet from the shower you had taken to decompress your sinuses.

You suddenly stopped all together, mind running blank. Twisting around in your chair, you turned to the kitchen and lifted your chin, staring down the ambience as if it was looking right back at you. What was that smell?

It was smokey and acrid and rotten and— definitely not supposed to be floating around the apartment. Unless something was wrong, you thought. You stood quickly, bare legs meeting the cold air as you patted over to the kitchen.

Your eyes scanned it frantically, checking for any signs of smoke or if any of the gas burners were on. Your heart was beating gratingly against your ears. The silence was so heavy you were beginning to feel dizzy. It was the type of quiet that made your skin crawl all the way up to the nape of your neck.

You sniffed again, trying to make sure you hadn’t hallucinated smelling what you had but much to your dismay— it still smelled like something was burning.

You hastily made your way to the desk, grabbing your phone and opening your contact list. It was only a few passing beeps from the other line before a voice rang out. “Hello?”

“Spence,” Your boyfriend picked up on your tone quicker than you would’ve preferred.

“Hey,” He said, sounding like he was reassuring you that he was there, voice soft although he didn’t necessarily know what had made you so distressed in the first place. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ears shamefully, glancing over at the kitchen.

“I’m pulling into the driveway right now, what’s going on?”

You bit the flesh of your bottom lip, making your way back into the kitchen. “Did you leave any of the burners on? Or plugged in anything you maybe— shouldn’t have..?”

Spencer paused on the other line, almost in profound contemplation. “No. I didn’t, why?”

“Because it smells like something is burning Spence,” You reached at the small handles of the ovens burners, rotating them all to signal they were off. “Are you sure you didn’t leave anything in?”

“I’m positive,” Somehow he could practically feel your hesitation, so he continued. “Baby, I have an eidetic memory. I would’ve remembered leaving something on,”

You huffed, still not entirely convinced because the smell was right there. It wasn’t strong, which caused even more anxiety to swirl inside of you, but it was there. The sound of a car door slamming shut was heard on the other end of the phone. “I’m freaking out,”

“I’m getting into the elevator, I’ll be up in a few seconds,” You paused.

A few rather long seconds later, the door pushed open. Spencer glanced at the handle, brows furrowed in annoyance. “It’s not locked— Why isn’t this locked?”

Your habit with leaving doors open was a problem, but it currently wasn’t your biggest. The strong smell still floated around, dancing through your nose and torturing you slowly. “Screw the door, do you not smell that?!”

Spencer closed the door behind him and set his bag down, along with his shoes. You watched him from the kitchen, crossing your arms across yourself and hugging your body closely.

“Where is the smell?” He stalked over towards the kitchen. His eyes lingered on the sight of you wearing nothing more than a t-shirt. It was something he didn’t think he’d ever get used to.

“I don’t know where it’s coming from,” You griped. Spencer really tried to find where the smell was coming, only so that he could ease you from your anxiety, but he really didn’t smell anything.

“I don’t smell anything love,” He reassured, looking over towards the stove just to be absolutely, positively sure.

“How do you not–?” You stopped, face falling from its tightened up expression. A relief unlike any other fell over you the second you understood what was going on.

“I’m–” You rubbed your temples, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m an idiot,”

Spencer furrowed his brows, quickly walking beside you and setting a very much needed and comforting hand on your shoulder. “What?”

You remain quiet, reaching out and wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face into his chest. Spencer stood there, muddled by your behavior but nevertheless happy to oblige with whatever you deemed necessary to feel better. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing a few soothing circles onto your back.

“Yeah, I get olfactory hallucinations,” You trailed off, resting your cheek on his chest and not yet looking up at him.

“Phantosmia?” He quipped. You pulled away, looking up at him inquiringly.

“Huh?”

“Phantosmia,” He shifted his arms down to your waist. “It’s a sensory perception disorder where people experience smelling odors that aren't present in their environment. Unlike actual smells, which are triggered by external stimuli interacting with the olfactory receptors in the nose, phantosmia originates internally within the brain.”

You pulled a face. “Well, I call them olfactory hallucinations.”

“Well, medically they’re called phantosmia.” He countered. You narrowed your eyes as he tucked a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“Show off.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I thought you liked it when I talked a lot.”

You hummed. “Yeah, that's true”

Unfortunately, you got olfactory hallucinations– or phantosmia– often. And it should’ve been the first thing you recalled once Spencer was denying any smells of burning outlets and gas. It always simultaneously flared up when your allergies did, meaning you probably should’ve known better— definitely would’ve saved you the near heart attack.

Spencer dragged his hand up and down your waist instinctively while you poked a finger into the rough surface of his chest “Got some more info for me smart-ass?”

Spencer gave you a look, rolling his eyes at your ridiculous giddy grin. “It isn’t very common. When it comes to disorders that affect the sense of smell, phantosmia makes up 10% to 20% of cases.”

“Well that makes me feel unique.”

Spencer bit back the need to tell you that you were already unique, but he referred against it. Not because he didn't want to— he always wanted to. But he knew he spent every single chance he could get to telling you how special you genuinely were to him.

“For some people, the odors that they hallucinate are pleasant, like freshly baked sweets—“

“You're joking,” He shook his head. You huffed, drawing your lips into a pout. “Do you know what I'd give to smell that instead of a goddamn burning outlet— it gives me anxiety.”

“Yeah, but look on the bright side,” Spencer leaned forward kissing your forehead. You basked in the simplicity and loveliness of his touch. “At least there wasn’t actually a burning outlet.”

“Yeah,” You smiled up at him. “That's true.”

[blackhairedjjun]

honesty - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, open ending, non-idol au, best friends to (potential?) lovers | word count: 818 | warnings: profanity, arguing, reader has a toxic ex, implied infidelity (from the ex not yj)

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - HEAT: while engaged in a passionate argument with one another, sender, in the heat of the moment, blurts out “i love you!” to the receiver. think of like, that glorious trope where people have a huge argument and then suddenly sb drops the mic with “because i’m in love with you!” and silences the other person. u know the trope! (requested by anon - "maybe with a bf2lovers au ?")

author's notes: hi anon! tbh it took me a while to write this since i already did the heat prompt with a different member and i didn't want it to be too similar lol. the ending is more maybe-lovers than outright lovers, but i hope you still like it! <3

despite the calm of the river next to you and yeonjun, your circumstances are anything but. you tried to keep your voice low at first, but your emotions run so high that you’ve given up; you care little about the other people staring at you as they stroll past.

“for fuck’s sake, yeonjun!” you yell. “you’re my friend, not my dad!”

“and aren’t friends supposed to look out for each other?!” your best friend grips his hair in his hands as if to pull it out, then lets go. “i’m telling you to stop hoping for him to come back! he doesn’t fucking care!”

“shut up! you don’t know him like i do!”

“i know he broke your heart so bad that you locked yourself up for a week, and that’s enough!” yeonjun takes a few steps toward you, but you step back.

what was supposed to be a calm afternoon stroll with your best friend has now turned into an argument once you brought up the topic of dating your ex again. you open your mouth to speak, then press your lips together. a cool wind blows from behind you; in your silence you hear a young couple laughing by the riverside, and you envy them.

you know that yeonjun is right, but you refuse to give him the point.

“ he destroyed you, y/n. and now he’s pleading for you back when he’s been kissing others?! don’t you know any better than that?!”

“i do! so why don’t you trust me on this?! why don’t you believe me when i say he’s changed? you keep seeing him as the bad guy!”

“and why don’t you trust me?!” yeonjun’s own voice gets louder with each word, oblivious to the stares of others. “i’m not making it up when i say i’ve heard him flirting with girls, i’ve seen him make out with them at parties. i’m trying to protect you from more heartbreak!”

he sucks in a breath and his voice shifts from loud to trembling. again he steps towards you, but you don’t move away. you look down at your hands to avoid his gaze and find them shaking.

“he’ll break you all over again,” he says. “and i can’t let that happen to you again... i couldn’t stand it the first time.”

a voice in your head tells you that he’s not lying; your best friend has no reason to. you ignore it and root your feet to the ground. “and that’s none of your fucking business, yeonjun. just let me make this choice for myself! i don’t need you trying to tell me what to feel. why do you care so much, huh? why are you trying to control how i feel?!”

“because i一 y/n, you can’t be serious一”

“i am serious! why the hell do you care so much about this damn guy?!”

“because i’m in love with you!”

yeonjun’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he takes a few steps back. you’re frozen to your spot, but you no longer feel rooted. instead you feel brittle, as if a single touch could send you crumbling. every nerve in your body feels primed to fall apart.

“shit, i never should have said that. god, i am so sor一”

“yeonjun...”

his name is barely a whisper from your mouth. you swallow hard, unsure what to say. you can do nothing more but stare at your best friend: the one you’ve told everything to, the one you trusted more than anything else, the one who held you in his arms when you cried after your ex broke your heart. the realization that he’s loved you all this time starts to sink in.

there’s an ache in his eyes now, one so strong that you look away. you take a deep breath and hold yourself together long enough to collect your thoughts.

“i am so sorry, y/n.” his voice breaks and you know he’s on the verge of tears. “i shouldn’t have said一”

“no, jjun.” his nickname weighs down on your tongue. “i... i just...”

you can see yeonjun’s shadow growing closer to yours. with one hand he reaches out for yours, trembling still; with the other he gently lifts your chin up to look at him. his eyes shine with tears, but the ache in them has lessened a bit.

you step forward and he collapses into you. you catch him as he stumbles forward, your arms finding his waist and his head buried in your neck. you hold him gently as you can, as if carrying a fragile treasure; his body shakes ever so slightly as he starts to cry and his tears wet your skin.

when you speak, your words are quiet and carefully chosen.

“i ran away from you, jjun. that’s why i tried to date him again... because i thought you’d never love me back.”

[histarean]

barracks bunny

könig x fem reader

summ: you're known as the barracks bunny while you and könig are dating

word count: 1.8k

content/warnings: angst, comfort

a/n: i love könig and writing angst so why not combine them? this is my first cod "fic" so i'm pretty excited! i know my account has been primarily aot but i hope this reaches the cod fandom. love you all

Rumors spread fast in the military. Everyone on the base knew that, especially you. 

König and you had been together for a while now and while all the guys knew you were his, there were still whispers floating around. Whispers soon turned to stares, stares to quiet laughing and eventually, the whole base knew you as the barracks bunny. 

Now, König’s not stupid, of course he heard what the other cadets were saying and to say he was not happy was an understatement. He knew he had to do something but with three warnings racked up (for beating up other soldiers who were talking shit about you) he couldn’t just fight everyone on the entire base. The next best option was to confront you about it.

His footsteps down the hall sounded like thunder and his breathing was lightning. Each step he took was filled with anger and everyone he passed could hear it. How could these people say those things about his schatz? 

“You know she’s slept with half of us already?”

“She’s such a slut”

“I wonder if I’ve ever got a chance with her”

It's so cruel. His precious lover being reduced to a “slut” a “whore” a “barracks bunny” it was all too much. König was trained to keep cool during battle, to withstand weeks of torture, to take stabs to the chest and bullets in the leg but this? No. This was unacceptable. 

He’s closer to your room now. Closer to finding out the truth and his thoughts are racing. What if it is true? Has this whole relationship been a sham? Rumors don't come from nowhere, there has to be some validity behind it. He hopes it’s not true. He really, really does because what would be left for him without you? What would he be fighting for? 

König stands outside your door. Just standing. His hand is on the doorknob but he can’t bring himself to open it. He can hear you laughing on the other side with someone else. So it was true. König could feel his heart break and shatter into a million pieces. The already faint talking started sounding like gibberish as he slowly let his hand fall from the door to his side. It felt like time had stopped and everything around him faded away into oblivion. Maybe he had been there for 30 seconds, a minute, 5 minutes, who could say. Nothing mattered anymore. 

Thoughts of leaving KorTac crossed his mind since..what was left for him here? You had lied to him. You promised it was all a joke and nothing happened. That you were his one and only. 

The trance was suddenly broken when the door opened and a hand pressed against his chest. 

“König, what are you doing?” your familiar voice brought him to his senses. 

He couldn’t look you in the eyes. His head bowed, eyes settling on the ground. 

You tried shaking his arm but he barely budged. 

So tense, you thought. 

“Hey talk to me big guy” you brought your fingers to his chin lifting his head. It’s a reach. “Please” 

König let you lift his head but averted his gaze to the room in front of him. It was Ghost. 

Ghost was the one in your room. Why him of all people? 

“You lied to me” , his accent thick. 

He felt betrayed. His only love had gone behind his back and stabbed him in the heart. This hurt more than any wound he’d ever had. Bullet holes were nothing compared to this. No knife could cut deep enough to produce the same pain he was feeling. 

“When were you going to tell me? That there were others in your life” he struggled to get the words out of his mouth. 

“What are you talking about?” you were audibly confused. “Is this about those rumors you’ve heard? I told you they were all fake” 

König mustered up the courage to look you in the face. You were so beautiful. Even though he was angry, he couldn’t get enough of you. He could look at you forever if he wanted. Your eyes seemed to suck him in like a black hole. Once you’re in, you can’t get back out. No matter how hard you try. No matter how hard he tried. 

But past all that, he couldn’t find a hint of deception in your face. You looked genuinely lost. 

“Why is Ghost in your room?” König glanced up to him. 

Ghost wasn’t doing anything. Not hurriedly pulling up his pants, not putting his shirt back on, nothing that would point to them being interrupted. He was calmly sitting on a chair, observing a rifle. Fully clothed, mask and all. You, on the other hand, were still dressed in cargo pants and a creme tank top that hugged your chest. So what the hell were you two doing? 

“He was showing me how to load ammo more efficiently” you turned back to Ghost, he was completely unbothered. Not even looking up.  

Everyone knew you had a hard time loading ammo quickly and were often stuck using knives and other weapons in place of guns. Price was even close to discharging you because of this.

Lovers quarrel, he thought. It was a ridiculous argument and Ghost wanted no part of it. He got up to leave, tossing your AUG on the bed. He casually walked out, ignoring a stare from König that could burn cities. 

“Good luck” he whispered to you, passing the door and disappearing into the hallway. 

Now you are alone. With König. This would usually be ideal but now it was scary. You know he would never ever lay a hand on you but maybe it was different this time? You hadn’t done anything but he didn’t know that. All he knew was another man was in your room while he wasn’t. This would make anyone angry. The whole situation was just a huge misunderstanding. 

“I don’t want to have this conversation in the doorway. Can you please come in?” you reached for his arm but he pulled away before you could touch him.

You were dirty to him. Tainted. He was aware you weren’t a virgin before you met him, but when you’re in a relationship, sex is sacred. At least to König. 

He walked in the room first, scanning it for any disturbances or abnormalities. None. There wasn’t anything out of place: sheets tucked tightly under the corners of the bed, clothes hung up in the small closet, everything was in order. 

He took a seat on the same chair Ghost was occupying minutes earlier. It was still warm. You sat on the bed facing across from him. König’s leg was bouncing so fast it made the chair shake and his hands were fidgeting with themselves. 

You slowly got up and kneeled down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. He looked down at your interlocked fingers then to your eyes. You looked sad. He never wanted to make you feel this way but what you did was unforgivable. 

“Believe me König, I would never do anything to hurt you” you had a slight smile on your face, trying to comfort him.

He didn’t smile back. What he needed was the truth. Where the rumors were coming from, why you got weird stares, and how long this has been going on. If you couldn't tell him, or if he thought you were lying, he might just have to end this. He doesn’t want to but how can he be with a liar, a cheater, someone unfaithful. 

“Tell me everything,” he said in a deep voice. Eyes fixated on you, unmoving. 

“There is no everything, König. Just stupid boys trying to start something out of nothing” you explained, “I promise” 

His leg had slowed down to a steady pace, still bouncing, but more controlled. You rubbed your thumb along his knuckles. Soothing. Like a mother’s touch. Except he could never remember his mother touching him like this. Like anything. You were the first one in his life to show any affection. Romantically or platonically. 

“Do you promise?” he squeezed your hands. 

Please don’t lie to me schatz. You’re all I have.

“I promise” 

That’s all König needed to hear. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. It was awkward. He wasn’t used to hugging people. It was suffocating but warm. His large frame surrounding your small body made you feel at home. He was your home. And you were his. 

“Ich liebe dich Engel. Bitte bleib für immer bei mir” he muttered into your neck. 

“Ich liebe dich auch” you replied through broken German.

He had taught you some of his native tongue when you had spare time. Simple phrases like “I love you” “cuddle me” “please” and so on. You wrote down all the things he taught you in a little notebook and often referred back to them when you had the chance. In your opinion, it was a pointless language with long words that made no sense and unnecessary diacritics, but you’d do anything for your king. 

You held each other for a while, slightly rocking back and forth. He breathed in the scent of your hair and you rubbed his back, stopping for a moment then continuing. 

You felt your body begin to lift, feet dangling in the air. You wrapped your legs around König’s waist for support as he carried you to the bed. He slowly lays you down, stepping back for a minute.

“Aren’t you coming?” you patted the space next to you. 

Of course König was coming, he just didn’t want to hurt you. Lying down directly on top you would surely suffocate you and he couldn’t do that to his little Maus. You were so small compared to him, so fragile. He’d seen you kill countless men, but in his eyes you were still his delicate Blume. 

“Yes my dear, I need to know you are comfortable though” he looked down at you.

Your safety and needs always came before his. In the bedroom, on the battlefield, and anywhere else you might be. You were his whole world and he wanted to make sure you knew that. You did. He told you everyday. Constantly showering you with compliments and praises. 

“I am” 

König’s gentle climbing in next to you, careful not to crush you. He lays on his side as you snuggle into him, face in his chest. So warm. You could hear his heartbeat, such a steady and comforting sound. A slight smile forms on his lips as he wraps you in his arms engulfing your torso. You stayed there for what felt like forever, savoring this sweet moment. Who knows how many more of these you would get. Your jobs were dangerous to say the least. Living to see another day was a gift, not a promise. But being with him made it all worth it. He’s the love of your life. You would never want to be with anyone else. Only him.

“You are everything to me, Meine Liebe” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

His Liebe. Forever and always.

[solarmorrigan]

hallo! I saw the angsty prompt list thing, and the “don’t trust me.” One kind of stood out to me. You don’t have to write it, but you’re one of my favorite writers on here so I thought it might be cool :)

Hullo! So I did fill this prompt once already, but I'd had a bunch of ideas for it and I was in the mood for something a little softer, so I did another! Thanks for giving me the opening to write it (and for the compliment, you're so kind?? 😭)

[General warning for mention of Steve's shitty parents and their generally shitty parenting technique]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“Why am I the one doing this?” Steve grouses, straining slightly as he struggles with the full box on the top shelf. “Instead of, y’know, you?”

“You’re stronger than me,” Eddie replies readily.

“Bullshit, I’ve seen you lugging amps and shit around during your shows,” Steve shoots back, grumbling as he works the box free from the high shelf.

“You got me.” Eddie grins, though Steve’s back is turned to him. “I just like watching you work, sweetheart.”

From the depths of the storage closet, Steve gives an audible snort of laughter, but he also stops arguing. Then, with a little noise of triumph, Steve finally manages to tug the box free, holding it aloft long enough to back out of the closet and then heaving it down onto the floor, where it lands in a clatter of plastic and jingling bells.

“Excellent.” Eddie falls upon the box, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before tugging at the tucked flaps. “There’s one more box, would you mind? It’s on the floor; long rectangle.”

“You said there was one box,” Steve says, eyes narrowed.

“Whoops, miscounted,” Eddie says breezily, smiling up at Steve with as much innocence as he can muster. “You know how bad I am at all that academic shit.”

“Says the guy who plays a math game for fun,” Steve drawls.

For the sake of time, Eddie leaves the bait where it is, instead batting his eyelashes up at Steve. “Pretty please, pretty boy? It’s definitely the last one.”

Steve holds out for exactly five more seconds before retreating into the closet with a roll of his eyes. “If you suddenly remember one more after this, I’m suddenly gonna remember something I have to do back at my house and leave you to do all the decorating on your own,” he calls back, muffled from behind the coats Eddie can hear him shoving aside to find the last box.

Eddie’s at least eighty percent sure he’s bluffing, but it’s no matter – he hadn’t been lying. Most of what he needs is in the box in front of him: strands of garland, wrapped tangles of lights, and the same ugly pinecone wreath with the world’s most annoying string of jingle bells attached that Wayne’s been hanging since Eddie was a kid. Everything else—the ornaments, more lights, and, of course, the tree—is in the hefty, rectangular box Steve is currently hauling out into the entryway.

Normally, Wayne would be there to help, but his and Eddie’s work schedules have fallen out of sync in the hectic holiday rush of extra shifts; if one has the day off, the other is too tired by the time they get home to entertain anything as energy-consuming as getting up on a ladder to hang lights. Eddie and Steve, however (somehow; miraculously), share at least one day off a week, which has seen Steve recruited as Eddie’s backup decorating partner.

“That it?” Steve breathes as releases the box and stands straight, tugging his sweater down from where it’s ridden up (Eddie can’t believe he’s dating someone who unironically wears ugly Christmas sweaters. He can’t believe Steve makes them look good).

“That’s it,” Eddie promises. He plucks two balled-up strings of lights from the box in front of him and stands up, one under each arm. “So here’s what I’m thinking: I’ll get started on the outside, while you,” Eddie puts a boot to the tree box and shoves it towards Steve with a grunt; even across the laminate flooring it doesn’t slide easy, practically cocooned in layers of packing tape from so many years of opening and resealing, “get the tree going.”

Already halfway wrapped up in how he’s going to string the lights (he’d always loved decorating the outside of the trailer, and now he gets to figure out a new configuration for the tiny porch on his and Wayne’s equally tiny new house; it ain’t much, as they say, but it’s home – or, at least, it’s starting to feel like it), Eddie nearly misses the look of confusion that crosses Steve’s face.

“Uh… how do you want it set up?” Steve asks.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “Stand goes on the floor, pointy end goes up. I have faith in you, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but with his frown in place he looks like he might actually be irritated. “I mean, you have to tell me how you want it, like, decorated and shit. Where it’s supposed to go, that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve decorated a tree before, man,” Eddie says. “I know I saw one at your house last time I was there.”

“Yeah, but that’s my house. This is yours. You have to tell me how you want it,” Steve says.

Once again for the sake of time, Eddie leaves the obvious opening for a joke where it lies. “Steve, it’s – y’know, lights, garland, ornaments, it’s not rocket science. I trust you to do a good job.”

“No, don’t trust me, just tell me how you want it decorated,” Steve insists. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to do it wrong.”

“It’s… a Christmas tree, sweetheart,” Eddie says slowly. “You can’t do it wrong.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Steve says with a laugh. “Seriously, like – people are super particular about how their trees are set up, I think. My mom always has been. I remember when I was, like, ten, she and my dad had been away for a while, and we were coming up on Christmas pretty fast, and none of the decorations were up, so I figured I’d at least put the tree up. Surprise them when they got home, right? Except my mom lost her shit when they got home and saw it.”

“Noooot in a good way, I take it,” Eddie hazards.

“Nah, I did it all wrong. The tinsel wasn’t spread out right, and there’s only supposed to be a certain number of ornaments on each branch, and she wanted the angel on top, not the star, so she made me take the whole thing down.” Steve shrugs. “So, seriously, even if you don’t think you have a certain way you want it done, I’ll probably manage to find the exact way you don’t want it, so you should just tell me.”

“Steve, I promise, that tree is, like, older than I am; you can’t make it worse. As long as you don’t set it on fire, I’ll be happy with it,” Eddie says.

“That’s not–” Steve cuts himself off, running one hand through his hair with a strained little laugh. “I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me how you want it done.”

Eddie shakes his head, dropping the bundles of lights back into their box; he hates when this happens – hates when he stumbles over some mundane thing that Steve’s parents have fucked up for him that Eddie only manages to poke like a kid with a sharp stick at a beehive because he didn’t even realize it could be an issue. Who the fuck gives their kid a complex over how the Christmas tree is decorated? Who does that?

(Then again, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about more than just their expectations for the tree.)

“Okay, I need you to listen to me,” Eddie says, voice firm but hands gentle as he reaches for Steve’s own. “I swear I’m not trying to set you up for failure. I’m really not. The tree isn’t supposed to look perfect. It’s supposed to be kinda crooked and covered in dumb ornaments you can’t even remember the stories behind and only have, like, half a string of popcorn around it because you ate most of it when your uncle wasn’t looking and didn’t leave enough for the tree.”

Steve stares at him, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to piece what Eddie’s telling him into what he already knows about the world, like he needs both things to be true, even though they don’t fit together.

“Actually…” Eddie says slowly, deciding that it may be best to change tack, “come to think of it, there’s one thing about decorating the tree that I should’ve told you. Most important thing, really. Can’t believe I forgot.”

“What?” Steve asks, halfway between wary and eager for the instruction.

“You’re supposed to do it together. That’s what makes it good.” Eddie lets go of one of Steve’s hands to smack the heel of his own to the side of his forehead. “Duh. Silly me.”

Steve shakes his head, letting it hang forward with a little huff of a laugh as some of the tension leeches from his shoulders. “You’re such a dork, do you know that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, grabbing Steve by the front of that stupid, ugly sweater (it has reindeer on it, how does it not look awful on him?) and pulling him up for a quick kiss. “So how about you help me do the outside lights, and then we’ll come back inside and do the tree together?”

One last flicker of uncertainty crosses Steve’s face. “What about Wayne?”

A flutter of fondness rolls through Eddie’s chest, the same as it always does when Steve doesn’t just consider Eddie, but the things and people important to him. “His favorite part is stringing the popcorn. We can do that when he gets home.”

“Oh.” Steve nods, as though he is considering this very seriously, then smirks at Eddie. “Should we make some to eat before he gets back, so you leave enough for the tree?”

Eddie smacks him on the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Alright, Harrington, just for that, you’re the one untangling the lights.”

“What, like it’s a punishment?” Steve asks. “I’m great at untangling Christmas lights.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie presses a hand to his heart and pretends to swoon over the box of decorations, “when you say things like that, it makes me want to keep you forever.”

And Steve’s answering grin at that is far brighter than anything they’re going to decorate with today, Eddie is certain.

[kaizokuniichan]

Discord and also this post of mine got me in my Kid feelies so I finally got the courage to write a lil somthin for my angry little flower 💋

Not super smutty but MDNI as always.

The first time Kid has sex he blurts out I love you and vows to never say it ever again. He remains emotionally immature and it’s especially apparent when you join the crew. His attraction to you annoys him, and he makes it everyone’s problem including you. He is. Insufferable. Everything you do seems to piss him off, and yet even when you do your damndest to stay out of his way he always seems to find you.

It gets to the point where you complain to Killer about it, and he tries to calm you down and convince you it’s not personal (it is). Killer tells Kid he needs to get his shit together and sort out his feelings (Kid denies) or he’s going to lose you. Kid doesn’t care if you stay or leave, not until the day you get so fed up with his barrage of insults that you begin to pack your bags.

But he stops you before you can hop off the ship at the next island, and he drags you back to his workshop where he forbids you to leave (him). You start to yell how you don’t understand what his problem is, you’ve done everything to stay out of his way what more do you want? Clearly you’re not good enough—not for him or his crew. And this makes his eyebrows raise—or at least the place where they should be. What do you mean you’re not good enough? He’d handpicked you himself, obviously you’re more than capable. Kid doesn’t allow any slouches in his crew.

“So? What is your problem?” His brain short circuits as he’s finally faced with dealing with and accepting his feelings for you in the span of 5 seconds. And then, he snaps. Grabbing your face and crushing his lips with yours, the kiss is surprisingly not as rough as one would think. You’re shocked, taken aback, and absolutely turned on. Of course you’d noticed how hot your captain was, it’s one of the reasons that made this all so frustrating. Beyond the scowls and barking orders there were heated looks and shortened personal bubbles. So you sigh and lean into the kiss because finally this man whom, despite his brutish personality and you’ve begrudgingly been infatuated with, has at last revealed that he wants you.

You don’t immediately tear each other’s clothes off that night or onward, but there’s an obvious shift in your relationship that becomes more than obvious to everyone else. No longer does he grumble when in your presence—he shows the utmost patience and respect for you. And whenever you’re not around he’ll drop whatever he’s doing to come find you and bring you back with him.

When he drinks he becomes much more handsy, wrapping his flesh arm around you and whispering in your ear how hot you look and to come by his room later, which you do.

And before the lock on his door clicks the two of you crash into each other like waves in a storm—fitting for a man with the power and might of a hurricane. He picks you up and you revel in the contrasting touch between his arms—one flesh, and one that represents the very essence of him. And as the two of you rut against the wall, mouths spilling intermingled gasps and groans and curses, Kid realizes in that moment why he’d been so afraid of accepting you. You were the veins crawling throughout his nervous system, starting at his heart. You’d taken hold of him and held every bit of it in your hands. And frighteningly he was going to allow you to keep it.

[callmegaith]

The only thing ineffable bureaucracy showed me is how hyper focused this fanbase is at seeing one thing and one thing only and everything else is a result of that one thing

1) no, Beelzebub and Gabriel are not a straight couple. Nor is Crowley and Aziraphale a gay couple. Stop the non-binary erasure or go outside and talk to an actual non-binary person cuz clearly you have no clue what non-binary is "they're straight presenting" wtf? If you think that please give me your name so I can block you. Cis people, I fucking swear.

Reminder that Beelz used they/them pronouns btw. Sorry that Beelzebub doesn't "pass" for you, it doesn't make them any less non-binary. Not to mention it was stated and already IS CANON that none of them have genders. They're god damn demons and angels, bruh.

2) "it's Gabriel's and Beelz's fault that ineffable husbands didn't get their happy ending": no. It's their own damn fault for not communicating and Aziraphale's inability to accept Crowley as he is. Gabriel and Beelzebub put each other first. Y'all sound salty as hell cuz two people managed to work their relationship out and yours didn't work out. "But if they didn't get together---" y'all really saying shit like this??? Do you hear yourself? That's so sad. Wishing for the doom of one LGBTQ+ ship cuz the other fucked themselves over. THEY CAN BOTH CO-EXIST. And you know what? They will. Cuz Ineffable husbands is clearly canon, the story just wants time with them cuz they're the main characters, not like Beelz and Gabriel who were side characters so had their story summarized.

3) "that should have been ineffable husbands" no, cuz Crowley and Aziraphale aren't Gabriel and Beelzebub. They're different characters with different backgrounds, personalities, relationship structure, and different relationship dynamic in general. They'll get together in a way that fits THEM. And that way requires ups and downs that makes them finally understand that they're perfect for each other without the need for either of them to change.

4) Gabriel was such an asshole wish Crowley got his revenge and--- bla bla BLA : Crowley was happy for them. You hold a grudge over Gabriel that Crowley himself doesn't. Y'all worse than a literal demon. Smh.

Be happy for what we got and look forward to the future where ineffable husbands will certainly become canon and it'll be worth the wait. Don't tear down the LGBTQ+ presentation we got just cuz the main ship didn't get the limelight THIS TIME.

Let things cook, that's how writing WORKS.

But I'm just an Agender demi person and tbh? I would prefer if things took their time.

I love both ships a lot but I'm not gonna hold pitchforks over one ship getting a happy end and one still developing. Come next season, that happy end for Gaberiel and Beelzebub might not last. We DONT KNOW. Do we really need to sacrifice one for the other? Why can't we be happy to have both?

Just really think the vibe of the fanbase rn fuckin SUCKS and I'm not enjoying trying to go through the ineffable bureaucracy tag and seeing people complaining about how it should have been ineffable husbands or how it's their fault.

Okay? Alright.

After this imma start blocking ppl I swear. Just had to throw in my two cents.

[dragonagitator]

House MD fans: You wake up in the PPTH ER in summer 2004. What you doing?

Scenario parameters:

All your memories of the show and the past 20 years are intact.

You are stuck there/then and cannot return to our universe/year.

You have nothing but the hospital gown on your back.

Questions:

So, what do you do?

How much would you tell House?

How would you get him to believe you?

Who else would you tell?

How much would you tell them?

Inspiration:

The author self-insert isekai fanfic "Intervention" by VivatRex (aka @acrownforaking). They've been writing it for the past 11+ years and are still updating. It's already nearly 300k words long despite only being up to the events of S02E15. I AM IN AWE.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario ever since I read that fanfic a month ago. I'd love to discuss it with other House MD fans and hear what you would do.

(Apologies to the mutuals for the abrupt blog topic change. A new brainrot has taken hold.)

My short answer:

My long answers are below the cut.

So, what do you do?

My primary objective would be to enlist House in averting the pandemic.

My reasoning: If anyone can nip it in the bud before it gets out of Wuhan, I figure that a world-renowned genius doctor who is an infectious diseases specialist, speaks Mandarin, and now has a 15-year head start would have the best chance.

Difficulty level: Babysitting a narcissistic manchild with the self-preservation instincts of a toddler until the year 2020 so that he makes it there then alive, out of prison, and with his sanity, medical license, and professional reputation intact. To quote Quantum Leap, "Ohhhhhh boooooooy."

Strategy: I'm in the "I could fix him, but whatever's wrong with him is way funnier" camp, so I wouldn't try to change him (that always backfires anyway). Instead, I'd try to change his circumstances:

A stable romantic relationship would help, so I'd seduce him if I can (I'm not his type but a gal's gotta shoot her shot), try to get him together with Dominika earlier if I can't, and tell him how horribly his relationship with Cuddy ended so he knows better than to even start it.

Avert the shooting. Moriaty was a patient so his info is in the PPTH files. I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS. Or for a less murdery approach, try to get him arrested in April 2006 for violating New Jersey's strict gun laws.

Warn House about Tritter so he can switch patients with another clinic doctor.

Warn House to never get on a bus with Amber.

Tell Kutner I'm from the future and he's the only one who can prevent something horrible from happening (he's a Trekkie so he'll want to believe), then unfurl my big timeline poster and point at the "Kutner suicide early 2009" stickynote and ask him "so what's up with that, dude?"

Tell Wilson everything I can remember about his cancer -- he's an oncologist and thus can work backwards from there to figure out when to start checking for it so he can cut the tumor out while it's still just a tiny baby.

I would take a harm reduction approach to House's drug use, e.g., suggest that he try microdosing psilocybin and extend his liver's lifespan by substituting cannabis for some of his Vicodin and alcohol consumption.

Methods: Even though he doesn't have one for most of the show, House mentions a few times that he's entitled to hire an assistant, and I happen to be excellent at administrative work.

I think he'd be willing to hire me because working as his executive assistant / department secretary would position me to recognize patients as they come in so that I can discreetly pass along anything I remember, e.g., the kindergarten teacher has pork worms in her brain, ask the scientist in Antarctica to show you her feet, etc.

Meanwhile, I could lurk around the hospital preventing miscellaneous shit, e.g., get the gift shop volunteer from S01E04 to go home sick, ensure that the gunman from S05E09 is promptly admitted, diagnosed, and treated before he snaps and takes hostages, etc.

Possible sidequests:

Use my foreknowlege to get rich by milking online poker bonuses until the passage of the UIGEA in 2006, use my poker money to start flipping houses until 2007, get in on the "Big Short" in 2008, and set a Google Alert for "Bitcoin" so I can start mining/buying it from day one. Unfortunately, I haven't paid enough attention to individual stocks to play the market other than knowing that Amazon would be a good long-term buy & hold.

Use my riches to change the outcome of the 2016 election and try to steer the development of the internet and society in general in a slightly less stupid direction.

Send Pete Carroll a letter postdated just before the 2013 Superbowl telling him the outcome, then suggest for the final play of the 2014 Superbowl that the Seahawks try handing the ball off to Marshawn Lynch instead of throwing it because that throw will be intercepted. PRIORITIES.

How much would you tell House? How would you get him to believe you?

Your story about being from the future of an alternate universe in which House and everyone he knows are characters on a fictional TV show is already too batshit crazy to believe even without his kneejerk "everybody lies" skepticism. How would you differentiate yourself from all the patients who pull crazy stunts to try to get him to take their case?

My answer: For the "from the future" part, I'm hoping there's some sort of test that House could run to confirm that I was indeed vaccinated with a mRNA vaccine against the COVID-19/SARS-COV-2 virus. Given that neither of those things existed in 2004, that would be physical evidence that I'm not from around here now.

If producing physical evidence isn't possible, then I know that Vegetative State Guy from S03E15 is already a patient at PPTH because he'd been there for 10 years, so I'd find him and tell House about his son. I could also tell House enough about the cases from the first few episodes that I'm pretty sure he'd believe me by Christmas. I want in on Chinese food with Wilson.

I would wait until House accepted the "from the future" part before broaching the "fictional TV show" issue. Until then, "I watched a TV show about your life and cases" is a 100% true statement and it's not my fault if he assumes that show was a documentary. :)

Once he believed me, I'd tell him everything.

Who else would you tell? How much would you tell them?

There are people out there who would literally kill for your knowledge of the future, so going public or being too open about it seems highly risky.

My answer: I'd tell House, Wilson, and Chase right away. Kutner but not before Jan 2009. Maybe eventually Cuddy and the rest of the Diagnostics team if keeping my foreknowledge of the future from them proves too difficult.

House is the only one who gets to know everything. Everyone else is on a "need to know" basis.

I might also bring Bill Arnello (the brother/lawyer of the mob informant in S01E15 "Mob Rules") into the circle of trust because he could be a very useful resource for some of my sidequests, e.g., changing the outcome of the 2016 election far far far in advance and in the most direct way possible. (Hi, Secret Service! This is a purely hypothetical discussion about time travel and not at all indicative of any real criminal intent, pls do not pay me a visit, kthxbai.)

I think the only people I would tell the "fictional TV show" part to would be House, Wilson, and Chase, because there are things I need to warn them about that definitely wouldn't have been in a documentary. Like Chase needs to know that killing Diballa is 100% the right thing to do but he seriously needs to work on his OpSec. Everyone else gets the implied documentary lie of omission.

If I get caught knowing too much by random patients, I'll just claim to be psychic. Way more people believe in that than would believe in time travel.

What would you do?

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

I'm Setting Off, But Not Without My Muse

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 7

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

4.8k words

Warnings: Language, heavy kissing, pining

Keeley lounged on Roy’s couch, looking comfortable and familiar with crossed her legs and messy hair. She smiled when Roy handed her the soda he’d brought from the kitchen, throwing Roy back to all those lazy days they’d spent together on that couch, days of kisses and laughter and love. Days he missed.

“My sister should be here soon,” he murmured as he threw himself down on the couch beside Keeley. “Remind me what you and Phoebe are doing again?” He resisted the urge to grab her hand or press his palm to her thigh, the way he used to.

Ignoring or missing Roy’s pining, Keeley grinned and sipped her soda. “We’re going to a museum,” she explained slowly. “And we’re going to take turns closing our eyes and trying to draw the art we see. Whoever does the best wins, and loser pays for lunch.”

“Where the fuck did Phoebe get money from?” Roy snorted.

Keeley blinked at him, as if it was obvious. “You, you dolt. Girl’s a little millionaire with all your swearing.”

The sound of knocking at his door stopped Roy from retorting; not that he had a defense, to be fair. His wallet was constantly empty thanks to Pheobe. Maybe the knock at the door saved him from admitting Keeley was right, he thought to himself as he opened it.

Those familiar eyes sparkled at him. “Hey, Roy.” She stepped inside, looking comfortable in a simple sweater and jeans. The moment she saw Keeley on the couch, it was like a switch flipped. Her hand was on Roy’s hip, tugging him to herself so she could plant a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Missed you,” she hummed.

Roy froze. Even after all this time, all the kisses, he still had moments where her seemingly easy affection caught him off-guard, rendering him frozen like a statue. This was definitely one of those moments, with his ex-girlfriend on his couch watching with quirked eyebrows and amused eyes.

Just as suddenly, she stepped back and smacked her palm to her forehead. “Shit,” she chuckled awkwardly, her eyes focusing on Keeley again. “I’m so sorry. I forgot I don’t have to do that in front of you.” She adjusted Roy’s shirt where she’d grabbed him. “My bad, Kent.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Keeley teased, shooting them a wink. “Kiss him all you want. I doubt he’d complain too much.”

“Keeley-” Roy started to growl, wondering if both women could spot his heavy blush and the way his fists clenched at his side.

But Keeley wasn’t focused on that. Instead, she patted the spot next to her, urging the popstar to sit beside her. “So, have you two planned your holiday yet? I know Lanie’s been on your ass about it.”

With a glance at Roy, the singer settled by Keeley, noticeably stiff compared to the former model. “Uh, Roy found some spot in this little lakeside town,” she said quietly. Roy wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so timid. What the fuck had her so shy? “That’s why I’m here,” she added quickly, eyes on Keeley. “So we can finish planning everything.”

“That sounds lovely,” Keeley said in a soothing voice, almost as though she was trying to comfort the singer. “I think you and Roy-o are going to have a great time.” She shot Roy another wink. “Sounds very romantic.”

Roy cleared his throat. “I think it’ll be a great writing spot,” he said. “She can focus on the album, I’ll get some reading done.”

There was that smile, that small grin that made Roy soften. “I’m excited,” she admitted to Keeley, although her eyes were still on Roy. “If nothing else, it’s nice to get away before the tour begins. Because now, with this album, I’m not going to get to relax much before it starts. At least I’ll get to relax a little on this trip.”

“Or not relax,” Keeley hummed with a wink.

Roy didn’t know what he hated more: Keeley implying he’d be interested in anyone other than her, or feeling embarrassed in front of his fake girlfriend. Probably the latter, he realized when he saw the alarmed look that appeared on that pretty face. Now she was going to spend their little getaway worried that Roy was going to make some sort of move on her, he panicked with silent groan.

Fucking Keeley.

~

“Shit, sunshine, what’s in this one? Bricks?”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the admittedly heavy backpack out of Roy’s hands. “Old notebooks,” I corrected. “I’ve gotta dig through these things to find some usable lyrics, remember?”

Roy’s little grunt was the only answer I got. He loaded my suitcase into his giant black car before taking back the backpack and tossing it inside. He squinted at my empty hands for a moment before gazing back at my house. “I made sure the place was pet-friendly, you know.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, cocking my head. “What, did Keeley make you rent a dog for our vacation? Make us look all domestic?”

“No,” he huffed, obviously fighting the growing curve in his mouth. “For Sydney. I figured you’d be bringing her along.”

My heart melted as I blinked at Roy. I knew he liked my cat- and she, amazingly enough, liked him in return- but I wouldn’t have expected him to include her in our plans. Most of my real boyfriends tolerated Syd well enough, choosing to mostly engage in mutual indifference. Roy, on the other hand, seemed to genuinely like having Sydney curled up in his lap during Scrabble games and was keen to feed her if he woke up before me.

Stupid thing better not get too attached, I thought bitterly as I mumbled something about going to pack Sydney’s things really quickly. He won’t be around forever.

As I gathered some cat food and toys and urged Sydney into her travel carrier, I wondered if I was worried about Sydney or myself. With Roy’s help, I packed the cat and her things into his car, reminding myself all the while that this was a business trip of sorts. We were going for publicity, I scolded myself as I buckled into the passenger seat. This was for work.

My reminders were interrupted when Roy turned on his car and my own voice suddenly filled the vehicle.

The tips of Roy’s ears were red as he quickly turned off the car stereo. “Phoebe,” he mumbled simply. “She always turns it up way too fucking loud.”

I fought the smile that was desperately trying to break through. “Sure, Kent,” I chuckled. “You weren’t blasting my song on your way to pick me up. You absolutely didn’t sing every word at the top of your lungs. Totally believe you.”

Damn, why did he have to wear bashfulness so well? “Fuck off, sunshine.”

Slouching in my seat and defeated by the smile on my face, I turned to him. “What is your favorite song by me? If you don’t mind me asking.”

His fingers tapped the steering wheel as he turned off my street, off on our little adventure. “D’you think I have a favorite?”

“Of course you do,” I scoffed. “I saw the way you sang Our Song. You’re a bigger fan than you let on, Kent.”

“Touche.” He bobbled his head as he stared straight ahead. “You’ve got some really good songs. Nothing New was phenomenal. I’ve listened to it a few times and it just leaves me fucking breathless.” A frown crossed his face. “But it might be Happiness,” he said quietly.

My eyes traced his profile. “Why that one?”

He sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “It’s mature,” he said slowly. “Accepting the end of this relationship, acknowledging the good and bad of it all, hoping for forgiveness that goes both ways.” He sighed. “I’ve got to admit, I used to think you were just… fluff. I mean, Pheebs always likes your sugary pop stuff, that’s what’s on the radio. But after Nothing New-” He shook his head. “I went and listened to some of your other things, and fuck, you’re a great songwriter.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. “And I liked the Gatsby references, sunshine.”

I tried to tell myself that my warm cheeks were the result of feeling humbled by kind praise, not feeling flustered because Roy was telling me he liked my song. “Thanks,” I murmured. I picked at the hem of my shirt. “It was kind of a hard song to write. Emotionally, I mean. But it felt really good once I’d finished recording it.”

“I bet,” was all he said.

The rest of the drive was calmly quiet. I rested my head against the window, watching the city fade away and become green, green, and more green. Roy didn’t say much, other than ask how Sydney and I were doing. After a while, I took out a notebook and began jotting down some words, words that just kind of flowered onto the page before I could even really comprehend what they were saying.

Roy eyed me curiously as I scribbled. “Lyrics?” he asked simply.

I nodded, scribbling down the last couple of words. “Just a few lines,” I admitted. “Who knows if it’ll become anything. But you never know, so I’ve gotta write everything down. Sometimes the silliest little lines can become something special.”

“Read it to me.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the words I’d jotted down. “It’s just a couple little scribbles-”

“Come on, sunshine.”

Unable to say no to his gentle tone, I cleared by throat and slowly read, “Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark… show me the places where the others gave you scars… Now this is an open-shut case, I guess I should’ve known by the look on your face… Every bait-and-switch was a work of art.”

When I dared to look at Roy, he wore a large, infectious grin. “What the fuck,” he chuckled, smacking the steering wheel. “What kind of a mind d’you got in that pretty little head? You just came up with that right now? Out of fucking nowhere?” He let out a sharp breath. “Fucking amazing.”

His words were overwhelming, drawing a deep blush to my cheeks. He sounded so real, so genuine as he praised the couple of lines I’d jotted down. I decided to believe he really meant it. Friends could gush over each other like that- right?

I also decided to ignore him calling me pretty.

“Thanks, Kent,” I murmured, slouching into my seat. “Dunno what it’ll become but…”

“Well, whatever it is,” he said, “it’ll be fucking great.”

He knew he’d guessed right when he saw the smile on her face at the sight of the instrument. She turned to him, eyebrows raised and cat in hand.

~

It was a nice house. Bright and airy with a gorgeous view of a lake, a couple of cozy bedrooms, a sweet little kitchen, and, most importantly, an inviting sitting room with a piano. As soon as Roy saw a photo of the instrument online, he booked the house, figuring it would be a perfect spot for some songwriting.

“There’s a piano,” she said simply.

Roy nodded, warmth in his chest as he took in her pleased reaction. “Figured between that and your guitar, you’d be all set,” he explained. “Is it fine? The piano? I didn’t know what kind you like, or if this one’s any good.” He was blabbering now, suddenly anxious that he’d done just the wrong thing.

But she shook her head, letting Sydney go so she could approach the little bench. She sat and began plucking at the keys, creating a simple little melody that Roy felt like he knew. She glanced at him, the music never stopping. “You ever play?”

“No,” Roy scoffed. “Only thing I’ve ever played is football.” Not knowing what came over him, he strolled over and sat beside her, watching her fingers move with ease over the ivory. “Is this one of your songs?”

She nodded and opened her mouth, letting her sweet voice fill the house.

Roy nodded along. He’d heard this one before; it always sounded so childish when he heard it over the speakers, and half the time he skipped right over it, ignoring Phoebe’s complaints about ever skipping her songs. But maybe it was hearing the authoress in person, or maybe it was how down-to-earth it sounded like this, or maybe it was the way the setting sun was hitting her pretty face, whatever it was, Roy thought the song sounded nothing short of charming.

School bell rings, walk me home

Sidewalk chalk covered in snow

Lost my gloves, you give me one

"Wanna hang out?"

Yeah, sounds like fun

Video games, you pass me a note

Sleeping in tents

It's nice to have a friend

She turned to him, still playing, and nodded to the keys. “You try.”

“Fuck no, I-”

All it took was her raising her eyebrows expectantly, and Roy found his fingers touching the cool keys. She paused, freezing her fingers and nodding down at them.

“Set your fingers like this,” she instructed. When Roy had taken the same position, she looked at his face. “Just copy my movements.”

She moved her fingers slowly, delicately, and Roy did his best to mirror them. He hit some wrong keys, and he was so stilted and awkward, but he created something resembling music. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders started to dissipate, all the embarrassment in his head gone, making room in his brain for the simple melody they created together. A quiet, almost domestic bliss settled over the two of them, the kind of quiet that didn’t need a single word. He tried to remember the last time he felt such a calmness; probably with Keeley. He didn’t realize how much he missed it, just the pleasure of someone’s company.

And Roy definitely wasn’t complaining about the glowing little smiles she offered him.

It was nice to have a friend, indeed.

~

It was the sun, I told myself as I forced my eyes back to my notebook. I was suddenly feeling warm because I was lying out in the sun. That had to be it.

~

The sun felt good on my face, warm and inviting. I was supposed to be diving through an old notebook and searching for usable lyrics, but Roy kept distracting me. Not on purpose, of course. He just stretched out on our picnic blanket, eyes on the book he’d brought along, pausing only to take a sip of beer or grab a piece of fruit to pop into his mouth. But I couldn’t stop glancing over at him. He looked so incredibly relaxed, kind of like he had the night of his championship celebration, and he had this tiny grin on his face as he read, as if he was amused by the book in his hands. And then I noticed his hands, how strong and firm they looked holding the book open. And today he’d opted to wear shorts, showing off muscular legs I rarely got to see.

“Alright there?”

That gruff voice had me snapping back to reality. “Fine,” I choked out, shaking away thoughts that I really shouldn’t have been having. “How’s your book?”

Roy shrugged and flipped through the pages. “It’s good. I’ve read it before, but it’s nice to revisit?” He raised an eyebrow. “Like you and Gatsby, I guess.”

My eyes scanned the cover I hadn’t paid much attention to earlier. “A Wrinkle in Time,” I read aloud. “I’ve heard that’s a good one.”

“You could borrow it sometime. If you want.” Roy grinned. “When you’re not being pressured to write an entire album of love song for a man you’re not really in love with.” He shook his head, missing way I squirmed at the ‘L’ word. “Freaking Keeley, making you do this. You’re a trooper for saying yes, you know that, sunshine?”

“It’s fine,” I assured him with a little chuckle. “Who doesn’t love a challenge?” I paused, picking at the grass at the edge of the blanket. “Speaking of Keeley…” I let out a little breath, suddenly even warmer in the face. “She didn’t, er, send you any messages recently, did she?”

Something in Roy’s face fell for a flicker of a moment before relaxing again. He quickly shook his head. “No. Did she send you something?”

“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes, pretending my heart wasn’t slamming in my chest. “She says we’re both way too hot to be so… chaste when we’re out together.” I offered an awkward grimace. “She wants us to, like, get caught being hot and heavy.”

The choking sound sputtering out of Roy’s mouth had my face burning even worse than it already was. “Oh.” He blinked a few times, the gears in his head almost visibly turning. “Do you… want to make out then?”

Despite the absolute mortification I was feeling, I couldn’t help laughing at his words. “Jeez, Roy, that’s so high school of you,” I managed between chuckles.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he finally joined me in laughter. “Fuck me, that was terrible, wasn’t it?” He shook his head, offering a sheepish grin. “But I mean…” His eyes shifted somewhere over my shoulder. “That papps Keeley tipped off is over there somewhere. Probably has a clear view of us.” He raised his eyebrows. “Unless…”

The laughter left my lungs as I looked into those brown eyes, just as unsure as I suddenly felt. This shouldn’t be difficult; we’d been kissing each other for a couple of months now. And I’d filmed plenty of kissing scenes for music videos, I reminded myself. Steamy ones, even. Surely, I could manage to get a little heavy with my supposed boyfriend, couldn’t I?

“Anything for the job,” I joked, suddenly hating the way that had seemed to become our motto.

“For the job,” Roy echoed with a smirk.

Without warning, he grabbed my hips and tugged me onto his lap. A surprised squeal slipped past my lips, prompting a chuckle to rumble in his chest. His hands skittered up and down my back as he smiled up at me.

“This alright?” he hummed. His eyes were on my mouth.

I managed to nod as I rested my hands on his shoulders. “Sure.” I hoped my voice was casual and unbothered.

“Good.”

His lips felt so comfortable against mine, warm and familiar now. I let myself settle onto his lap and closed my eyes, focusing on being as natural as possible. Roy pulled me close, chest to chest, until I felt his heartbeat against my body; he could probably feel mine slamming against my ribs. He tasted like the beer and fruit he’d been enjoying all afternoon, a beautiful, summery combination I wanted to taste forever. Without thinking, I gave a gentle grind against his lap. His grip tightened on me as a curious little hum vibrated against my mouth.

My body was buzzing, on fire, drunk on Roy’s mouth and hands and body. While the little voices in the back of my mind kept reminding me this was an act, this was all pretend, the rest of my mind was screaming Roy’s name, wanting to take him back to the house and make this real.

Taking him back to the house felt like an especially good idea when his hands began to slide down my back, lower and lower.

“Should I…?” he rasped against my lips.

I nodded, refusing to open my eyes and break the spell I was under. “Probably.”

Roy’s hands cupped my ass tentatively, as if he was waiting for me to snap at him; he was probably remembering the night we “met”, where I warned him about his hand placement. Oh, how far we’d come since that night of snarking at each other and trying not to roll our eyes. Trying to assure him he was fine, I pressed down against him again, swallowing back my reflexive groan when I felt the beginning of a bulge against my increasingly needy parts.

Apparently he understood the permission I was giving him, because Roy’s grip on my ass tightened, fingers digging into the material of my jeans. I tried to remember the last time I’d been kissed like this- in public no less. It felt like something was waking up inside me. No, it wasn’t arousal from the kiss, from Roy’s hands on my body like he wanted me. It was a feeling that was settling deep in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that was making itself right at home as a melody and words began to bloom in my mind.

Dammit, it might be love.

~

~

For the last few decades, Roy Kent had spent plenty of time around impressive people. Politicians and rich people who made him want to barf. Actresses and models that looked good on his arm and in his bed. And, of course, some of the most famous, talented athletes in history, athletes he was proud to play against and stand beside. Hell, he was a legend in his own right, something he seemed to conveniently forget.

But he couldn’t help being impressed watching an artist at work, something he hadn’t had the opportunity to witness before now. He was a little nervous for her heading into this holiday, wondering if she’d be able to work under so much pressure. But once they arrived, it was like a dam had broken. She was constantly in her notebooks, scribbling furiously and scrambling through old pages. Or she was strumming away at her guitar or picking at the piano, creating melodies that Roy found himself humming as he relaxed around the house.

She didn’t play much for him, just little snippets here and there that she quickly critiqued and went back to work on. Still, he kept asking her to play him something; but they weren’t ready she insisted. Roy didn’t care; he found himself craving pretty tunes and a prettier voice.

A couple days into the trip, he was in the little kitchen, making some dinner while Sydney padded around, meowing up at him and drowning out the twinkling sounds of the piano. He mumbled back to the cat, reminding her that her owner would not be happy if he snuck her a treat without checking first. But the cat kept chattering, so Roy finally threw his hands up in defeat.

“Fine,” he huffed, unable to believe he was having a conversation with a cat. “Let’s go ask your mum if you can have a bit of fucking carrot.” He scooped up Sydney and let her climb onto his shoulders- a spot he had quickly realized she liked- and made his way into the sitting room.

She looked so comfortable in her sweats, her hair up in a sloppy hairstyle. She was so engrossed in her music, she didn’t notice Roy leaning in the doorway, a ghost of a smile on his face as he listened to her quietly sing.

Sydney’s little meow caught her attention. She stopped playing and looked up at the duo in the doorway, eyes a little wide. “Oh, hey,” she chuckled, smoothing down her wild hair. “Sorry, too loud?”

I spy with my little tired eye

Tiny as a firefly

A pebble that we picked up last July

Down deep inside your pocket

We almost forgot it

Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

“Not at all,” Roy assured her, reaching up to scratch Sydney behind the ear. Damn cat, interrupting his private concert. “That’s really fucking nice. You should keep going. I’d love to hear it.”

A tiny smile graced her lips when she saw the earnest way Roy was looking at her. “Fine. But you stay over there. I want to pretend you guys aren’t here, alright?”

Roy did as he was told, staying in the doorway as she picked up that sweet little melody and focused her eyes on the notebook in front of her, the words almost indiscernible; she seemed to be able to read the rushed writing with ease.

She took a deep breath and snuck a glance at Roy before continuing to the bridge- her strength as a songwriter, Roy recalled from Keeley.

On the way home

I wrote a poem

You say, "What a mind"

This happens all the time

'Cause they said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

Her smile grew as she went on, looking less like a glamorous popstar and more like a girl, alone in her room, playing with music as if it was a toy, creating something out of nothing but emotions. It was nothing short of magical, Roy admitted to himself. This album was going to be something special, he realized.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

And he’d have to take credit for being its muse.

She looked straight at Roy, not hiding that radiant smile as she sang-

They said the end is coming

Everyone’s up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they’re push and shoving

She played a sweet little outro, eyes still on Roy. Once finished, she offered him a tiny shrug, eyes bright with curiosity. “What d’you think?”

Roy’s in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

They said the end is coming

Everyone’s up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they’re push and shoving

You’re in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

“Fuck,” Roy laughed, finally walking over to sit down next to her, letting Sydney slip down into his arms. “That was lovely. Really lovely.” Before he could stop himself, the question he dreaded asking blurted out of his mouth. “Who’s it about?”

He felt so sure he’d stepped in it when her eyes flickered down, away from his gaze, before looking at him again. “Well, when I originally started writing this one, it was about my mom,” she started slowly. “I had been thinking about this time my parents visited, and we went to Ireland together. It was amazing, getting to show them places they never thought they’d visit.” She shook her head, as if the memories of that trip were fluttering through her mind. Then her eyes found his again. “But it’s also… well, about you, Kent.”

Roy nearly dropped the cat. “Me?” he asked incredulously. “Fuck d’you mean me?”

She chuckled awkwardly, rolling her eyes a little. “What you said about my mind, when I was writing in the car,” she explained. “And how you’ve been just, I dunno, really sweet about everything I’ve been working on here. And, I don’t know, you’ve become a really good friend.” She reached out and placed a hand on his leg, giving a small squeeze. “So I guess this song’s about the people who make me feel safe, happy, despite all the idiots in this world.” She wrinkled her nose. “Does that make sense?”

His heart felt like it stopped dead in his chest. It was such a candid, honest answer- and not the one he expected. He knew she’d have to change lyrics to fit him before finalizing songs, but he didn’t think she’d write about him. Roy wasn’t sure he’d ever been so… flattered? Sure. Flattery. That was the warm feeling nuzzling in his chest, the same warm feeling that was spreading to his cheeks as she blinked at him, waiting for him to say something, probably to assure her that he liked being her muse.

“Oh,” was all that came out of his stupid mouth. “Wow.”

He saw it. He had seen it when he brushed her off the first time she talked to him about The Great Gatsby. He saw it when he walked brusquely out of the room when she first played Nothing New for him in her living room. And he was pretty sure he saw it when he ignored her at the Greyhound’s celebration to pay attention to Keeley.

It was some mix of disappointment and hurt. Something that made Roy wish he was capable of being someone other than himself.

Still, she put on that tiny, shy smile and removed her hand from Roy’s leg. “Yeah,” she chuckled. “Anyway, sorry for interrupting your cooking.” She cleared her throat and stood, scooping Sydney out of his arms. “I better go feed her.” Not quite looking at Roy, she walked out, leaving him all alone at the silent piano.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@charkachow@mrdsturd@littlepinapple@sunfairyy@shadowzena43@uhmidkmuch@imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme

[writingsbyzuzu]

dude id love to see another part ORRRRR another version of “us.”

but its your blog and you should feel comfortable doing whatever tf you want with it lmfao

so high school

you and ethan have been together a while, and life is pretty good, you'd think

until ethan announces something absolutely insane.

the last main installment of the blame schlatt universe!! (i can write more about side plots but this is the last of the main plot)

notes: ethan nestor x fem! reader, j schlatt x fem! reader (dude still wants you), you have to suspend your belief for part of this because ethan and schlatt are different heights...so pretend ethan is taller or something, jenna marbles makes an appearance because i miss her, i didn't proofread, I did it all in one go

be gentle i've never written smut EVER

and yeah, maybe the ending is corny but these two FUCKING DESERVE IT, FIGHT ME

warnings: actual smut in this one, possessive sex (ethan becomes a bit of a fucking freak), reader has a panic attack but there's not a big description of it, schlatt never stops being a dickhead on god, ethan beats the shit out of schlatt, who said that not me

based on 'so high school' by taylor swift

I feel so high school every time I look at you I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you

Ethan wanted you to feel special all the time. It didn't matter that the two of you had been together well over a year now, the relationship still made him feel as lightheaded and happy as the day you had asked for his number.

So he went out of his way to do special things for you. Like he was doing right now, standing in the Trader Joe's by your apartment, picking out flowers in your favorite colors.

However, this wasn't just a regular bouquet like his usual "making my girlfriend feel special" bouquets, this was going to unfortunately be a "please don't be pissed at me" bouquet. Because Ethan was going to announce something at your housewarming party that he knew was going to piss you off.

So he picked out various flowers in a variety of your favorite flowers, and snacks that he knew were your favorite, before getting in his car and heading home.

Your new home, actually. You two had decided an apartment was too small for Spencer and the other various animals you had adopted together, and wanting to take a big traditional step together for once, bought a house together.

Tonight was your housewarming party, and Ethan, as nervous as he was about his announcement, had been putting off telling you as long as he could. But the official announcement was tomorrow, and better him tell you than the internet, right?

He makes the bouquet before entering the house, carefully wrapped. You come out from the kitchen with Spencer, grinning from ear to ear. "Baby! What's this?"

He holds it out for you, reciprocating your smile. How could he not when your smile made him so happy?

And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined

You wrap your arms around him, giving him a soft kiss. "You didn't have to," you smile again, before taking it and heading to the kitchen.

"Babe, how many times do I have to say it, I do it because I want to." He leans against the kitchen counter, watching you put his flowers in a vase. "You are the best girlfriend on the planet, and I want to have the best for the best," he says it like he's said it a million times before, which he honestly had at that point.

"Being with you is the best," you respond, tucking in a stray flower. With that, Ethan pushes himself off the counter and wraps his arms around you, leaning over to kiss your cheek from behind.

"What help are you going to need from me?"

"Help me prep the food, everything else is ready to go."

Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

The housewarming party had been well underway, with your various friends standing around talking, you were standing with Amy and Jenna in the backyard, talking. "How long have you been with Ethan now, anyways?" Jenna asks. "A year and three months," you tell her, blushing slightly. "How did you get together? It was like one minute Ethan was ranting to us about how he just wanted you to date him, just friends, and the next he was pretty much living with you," Amy laughs.

Your face gets even redder, before squeaking out an "I don't think we need to tell that story." Ethan approaches, having overheard the last part of the conversation, then wraps his arm around you. "That one is classified, but I can tell you about the first time I saw her."

"Oh this aught to be good, he's never told me before." you laugh.

"Well never mind then, if you're just going to make fun of me," he teases back, before kissing you.

"Too cute," Amy giggles, and Jenna joins her.

I'll drink what you think, and I'm high From smoking your jokes all damn night

Ethan was more of a charmer at parties than he lets on, and you loved it. He always knew how to make everyone comfortable and had people laughing constantly. As you flitted between various people at the party, he was usually on the other side of the yard, conversing with someone who was laughing at his joke.

You see someone at the backyard gate, and as you head over, you see that it's Ted.

The brink of a wrinkle in time Bittersweet sixteen suddenly

You furrow your brows at the sight, heading over before Ethan could see.

"Ted. What are you doing here?"

His face lights up at seeing you. Before you and Schlatt broke up, you were actually really great friends with Ted. Even closer than he and Schlatt were, and while he was sad you broke up, he was delighted when he found out you had moved to LA. But you hadn't reached out to him after. You didn't want to cause a rift between the two friends.

"Hey, I heard you guys got a house, so I got you a present." He lifts up his arm to show a bag, handing to you over the fence. "I remember how you used to decorate your place, so I looked all over for something that matches your style."

"Thanks, Teddy." He beams at the familiar nickname. "Want to come into the yard?" You gesture, but the smile quickly fades from his face.

"Actually, I need to tell you something, it's kind of urgent, it's about Ethan." Your smile in turn, wipes from your face, and your brows furrow once again.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to guess he didn't tell you, but they're going to announce it tomorrow, I wanted to warn you, he's-"

He was interrupted by Ethan coming to the fence. "Ted Nivison! How can we help you, man?" Ethan had an unreadable expression on his face, his arm wrapping around you, almost pulling you back.

Ted freezes, before the fakest smile you had ever seen on him appears. "Oh, I just wanted to drop off a gift for my friend." He shoots you a pointed look.

"Well it's good to see you man." Ethan, in turn, offers an equally plastic smile, before stating "We should get back to the party. We are hosting after all." He turns the two of you around heading back the party. You shoot one last look at Ted, who holds his phone up to you and mouths "text me later". He turns and walks back to his truck.

"That was weird babe," Ethan laughs. "Yeah...weird."

I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night Your friends are around, so be quiet I'm trying to stifle my sighs 'Cause I feel so high school every time I look at you

You push the interaction to the back of your mind, to make a mental note to ask Ted later what he meant.

For the most part, the party continues as normal, and while you tried to analyze if something was going on with Ethan, it didn't really seem like much was happening. Sure he seemed a little nervous, but as charming as Ethan was, everyone knew he was also kind of shy and socially anxious.

Which is why you definitely could not predict what happened next.

Ethan grabs one of the chairs set out, and stands on it, holding his cup. "Could I have everyone's attention?"

The 35 or so people turn to look at Ethan, yourself included. He looks around at everyone with a grin. "I just wanted to say a few things. Firstly, on behalf of myself, and my wonderful, wonderful girlfriend, thank you for coming to our housewarming party. It's amazing that you all would come to support us as we take this step. And to the previously mentioned girlfriend..."

Everyone looks at you, but you just kept looking at Ethan, smiling.

"We may have had a really...untraditional way of doing things, but the night you danced with me and asked me for my number, was the best night of my life. The first time I saw you, I fell in love with you, and everything since then has felt like a weird dream that I'm grateful I haven't woken up from. I love you."

The crowd of friends lets out a collective awe, and you blow him a kiss.

"I also...kind of have an announcement." Immediate murmurs break out, and confusion begins to dawn on you.

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? (Kill me) It's just a game, but really (really) I'm bettin' on all three for us two (all three)

"I am participating in the next Creator Clash in three month's time!"

Immediate cheers break out, as your friends get excited. You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding. That was what Ted was worried about? Why would you care? Ethan had boxed at the last Creator Clash, and did more than just fine for himself.

Unless...

"Who are you fighting?" Mark calls out, a pointed look on his face before briefly glimpsing at you, and every realization clicks in place for you.

Oh no. Oh no no no. This had to be a nightmare right? Was Ethan trying to kill you? There was no way, right? No possible fucking way that-

"It's uh. It's J Schlatt," Ethan says.

The color drains from your face. He turns to look at you, but you just shook your head in disbelief. He could not be serious with you.

Fighting your ex boyfriend? Is Ethan serious right now?

You slip from the crowd, going back inside your house. On the one hand, you understood that this was a charity event, of course Ethan would want to participate, especially because he loved participating in the last one.

On the other hand, the love of your life was about to fight the man who you thought once was the love of your life, in front of the internet. Surely, that was going to make big waves that were not in your favor. The only thing the two of them had in common was you, and you're sure the event was going to play that right up.

No wonder Ted wanted to warn you. Especially since it would be announced tomorrow...oh god. Had Ethan waited until the last moment on purpose to tell you?

You lean against the pantry door, sinking down until you were sitting, putting your head in between your knees. This was going to be insane.

"He didn't know how to tell you." You were too busy in your panic mode to notice Mark had come in, but he was leaning on the counter watching you.

"He wanted to, but he didn't know how to tell you. I mean. How was there a good way of telling you, right?" Mark makes his best Ethan impression. "Oh, hey honey, I'm going to box your ex live in front of thousands of people."

He watches you for a moment, no response coming from you, no movement other than your jagged breaths trying to calm yourself.

"That's why Ted came over, wasn't it?" he asks.

For the first time in minutes, you move, nodding your head.

"Ethan wasn't happy about that. I told him, if he didn't want someone else telling you, he should tell you. Course it sucks how he did it, but... do you need water?"

You nod again. He walks over to the cabinet, grabs a glass, and pours you a cup of water. You chug it down, before saying "I should probably lie low off the internet for a while, huh?"

"I don't think you should have to hide because some fanboys think you're some kind of..."

"Slut?"

Mark winces at the word, but nods none the less.

"What happened isn't your fault. You're allowed to date whoever you want. Your relationship was long over when you started dating Ethan. You might have made a few mistakes between him and Ethan, but that doesn't mean you should hide. You worked hard for what you got, and I see how happy you make him. It sucks what he did, but you should give him some grace. When you're ready to, that is. I'd also understand if you stayed pissed at him for a minute. Have a good night, kiddo. Amy's waiting for me in the car." He ruffles your hair, taking his exit as your breathing becomes more steady.

You stand up, deciding to take a hot shower and head to bed, feeling exhausted. You can see Ethan standing in the yard, giving the rest of the guests their farewells, and turn back to continue going to the bathroom.

Julian and Jenna hug Ethan, before Jenna tells Ethan, "Tell her I hope she feels better, if she needs to talk to me, I'm here." Ethan nods, and Julian gives him another hug. "See you, man."

Ethan is finally alone in the backyard, and lets out a sigh of relief. That part was over. Now time to face you. He heads back into the house, and Spencer pads over to greet him. "Hey buddy. Where's your mom?" Ethan asks, giving the dog some scratches.

He decides to wait for you in your room, and after around twenty minutes, you enter, in your pjs. You don't even look at Ethan, and a queasy feeling enters his stomach. He can't recall a time when you were ever really angry at him. Other than when Schlatt came around that one day almost a year ago, things were picture perfect.

"Babe," he begins. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Ethan."

"Well I do. I know it upsets you, but it's for a good cause-"

"You could have picked anyone to fight, Ethan. Anyone. But you're fighting my ex? Are you serious? You know how Ian and Anisa are going to frame this."

You didn't feel that strongly personally about Ian and his wife, but you understood that the last Creator Clash didn't earn enough, so they were going to play up things by any means possible.

"I'm sorry. Baby, I'm sorry. I...I know it's going to bring some hate down on you, but I'll be there for you. It's just an event, and in six months the internet will forget about it. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you one on one. You deserved better than that. But I saw Ted, and I heard him trying to tell you, and I panicked. I'm sorry." Ethan watches as you brush your hair.

"You owe me, Nestor." You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, as he watches your every movement.

"I know honey...besides. I think it'll be fun to knock his lights out."

Your face morphs from upset to laughter, giggling at his statement flopping onto the bed. "That would be fun."

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it." He props himself on one arm, facing towards you, his head leaning over you.

You touch his cheek, gently stroking it. "I just don't want him to hurt you."

"It'll be okay. I won't let anything like that happen. Not to brag, but I did win last time, remember?" He gives you a small kiss.

You nod at his words. Usually people aren't very good at reassuring you, but Ethan has always been different.

Get my car door, isn't that sweet? (That sweet) Then pull me to the backseat (backseat) No one's ever had me (had me), not like you

He leans over to whisper in your ear. "I won't let anything happen to you, either."

"Promise?" "Promise."

"Okay," you sigh, "but you owe me for such anguish." Ethan nods, letting out a small laugh. He eyes you for a minute, before slowly leaning in and kissing you again.

When you break, he lets out a soft hum, before rolling to be on top of you. "Believe it or not, I think I have an idea of making it up to you," he whispers.

"Let's see it," you murmur in response, and Ethan kisses you again, his hand sneaking up under your old t-shirt to hold your waist.

Your hands reach up hold him, sneaking into his hair and pushing him closer to you. He shifts from your lips to your neck, kissing it gently, before sucking on a small patch below your jaw. "You gotta be patient," he chuckles.

He sits up, pulling off his shirt, and suddenly the kisses get more intense, his hand pulling up your shirt. His mouth feels hot on your skin, and he's kissing it almost feverishly, not letting you get a move in. When your shirt inevitably comes off, he expands his kissing territory to your chest.

Your phone buzzes repeatedly.

"Baby," you whisper. He hums in response, sucking a hickey right above your tits. "I need to check what that is."

"Pay attention to me," Ethan whines, "I'm trying to make it up to you." His hands grasp at your pajama pants, going to pull it down.

You look at your phone anyways, wanting to see what the commotion was about.

7 missed messages from Ted.

ted: he's fighting schlatt at creator clash

ted: schlatt is saying he's doing it to prove

ted: prove that he's better than ethan

ted: he's gonna try to beat the shit out ethan for you

ted: you gotta tell ethan to back down he's serious

ted: schlatt wants you back by any means necessary

Your reading is interrupted by Ethan grabbing the phone to read it.

"What is so important that you didn't care I took off your-" He freezes at reading the messages. He's angry in a way you've only seen him once.

"The fucking- that fucking- that fucker," Ethan finally lands on a coherent thought, his nostrils flaring.

"He thinks he's better than me?" He looks at you, a manic look appearing on his features. "That what, he'll punch me and you'll come running back? We have a house together, you're my girlfriend."

"Baby, he's delusional, he just wants to stir shit up," you touch his face.

"Yeah, and I'm not backing down. You're mine, and I'm better. And I'm going to prove it." The manic look doesn't leave his face, but hell, it was kind of turning you on.

His lips were on yours before you could even blink, and his front teeth sink into your bottom lip. You moan, and he moves back to your neck, sucking harshly.

His hand slithers to your panties, gently touching you through the cloth.

"Gosh, I was going to take my time, but you're wet already," Ethan says, his eyes wide in an exaggerated manner, his tone almost borderline mocking you.

He pulls your panties to the side, actually touching you. You let out a soft moan as he moves his finger up and down, before sliding it into you rather quickly.

Before you even have a chance to moan, Ethan has his mouth on yours again, his thumb moving to gently brush against your clit while he fingers you.

He separates his mouth for a moment, looking at you again with that wide eye look. "Are you gonna pay fucking attention if I take your panties off this time?" You nod frantically.

He removes his finger from you, and within seconds had practically ripped your panties off you with his other hand.

"Look at you," he murmurs, one hand holding your face, the manic look fading from him at last. Ethan moves his hand back down, gently touching your clit. When you let out a soft moan, he says it.

"My girlfriend. Because I'm the better man." And with that, the manic look returns. He shifts down, putting his mouth up against your clit. Your hands go to his hair, gripping tight as he begins to suck and lick.

"I'm fucking better," he mumbles after coming up for air. His fingers danced around your entrance. "Say it. Say it and I'll make it up to you."

"Ethan," you plead, your legs rubbing the sheets. "Say it."

"You're better. And you're gonna fucking win."

Ethan made it up to you pretty quickly after that.

Truth, dare, spin bottles You know how to ball, I know Aristotle Brand new, full-throttle Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto

You had to give Ethan credit. He was practicing harder than anyone you had seen practice for anything. The past few months had passed quickly, and the match was getting closer and closer.

You had tried to ignore the promotional stuff on social media, but man, did Schlatt talk a lot of shit.

Anytime he was streaming, he would talk about you and Ethan, about how clearly, he needed to beat Ethan's ass and show you "who the real winner is". Which of course, led to comments on your stream.

You were streaming playing GTA with Ted and Jarvis (who were over the moon that you had opened friendship back up to them), and of course, Schlatt joins the chat.

jschlatt: doll, i cant wait for u to ditch the loser

"Considering you're out here commenting on my stream like a fucking pussy instead of shit talking my boyfriend to his fucking face, I already think you're the loser, Schlutt." Ted laughs, and then Schlatt leaves another message.

jschlatt: i know you miss me

Ethan had come into the office, looking for his shirt that he had left there earlier before practice. Half drenched in sweat, he walked behind you. "Babe, have you seen my t-shirt?"

He sees you streaming and goes "Oh! Sorry baby." He gives you a sweet smile before coming to you and giving you a kiss on the cheek. You look up at him, dazzled by just how good he looked despite the sweat. He looks at the chat. "Oh. I see Schlatt's here. Buddy, stop trying to shit talk me to my girl. You'll fight me soon."

It's true, swear, scouts honor You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her Brand new, full-throttle You already know, babe

Woah. You weren't sure who this guy was, and what he did with your mild mannered boyfriend, who was not a public shit talker by any means. He looked at you, just beaming at him.

"I mean, look at her. She's in love with me."

He gives you one last kiss, giving your chat a goodbye, and leaves your shared office.

Ethan wasn't actually worried about Schlatt stealing you. Schlatt had destroyed the relationship, and besides you had more than proved you adored Ethan.

What he really wanted was for Schlatt to back off and leave the two of you alone. Ethan really just wanted to have his peaceful life with you. He had you, the girl he wanted, but Schlatt was still a roadblock over a year later. He was sick of it.

So he was going to beat the shit out of Schlatt, so he could finally, finally have some semblance of a normal life with you.

I feel like laughing in the middle of practice Do that impression you did of your dad again I'm hearing voices like a madman

One week out, and he was sparring with Mark as practice.

You were a little worried, you weren't going to lie. By all accounts from Ted, Schlatt had now put in the hours of work, and it was showing. Ethan did not necessarily have a sure shot at victory, but man was he trying.

You were sitting on a bench, watching Mark and Ethan spar (he wanted you there for support) over and over again.

"Let's take a break," Mark pants, and Ethan nods. He waddles over to the bench, sitting down next to you.

"What do you think baby?" He eyes you, scooting closer. "You're doing great, hun." You smile at him, trying not to show your nerves.

Ethan knows you better than that though. "What's wrong?" You sigh, not wanting to talk about it, but you knew you had to. "I just...I don't understand why you have to do this. What does fighting my ex boyfriend gain?"

"Well, he's convinced fighting will win you over, and I want to show him wrong."

"This isn't Medieval Times, Ethan, y'all aren't dueling over a princess!"

"I know that...Also I don't think that's what the Medieval Times show is about."

There's a long quiet, and Ethan takes a sip of his water.

"I want to have a family with you," he murmurs. "And I can't do that if he keeps popping up. And yeah, maybe it's an ego thing. But if it's what I need, to face him myself, in order to get over it, will you let me?"

"We already are a family, Ethan."

He takes off the gloves, and the two of you sit in silence once more.

"Well. If only we had had this conversation a while ago," he jokes.

You laugh, and Ethan grins. "I don't like when we fight," he whispers. "I don't either."

"Look E, you can fight him if you want. A lot of people depend on you, and it's for charity. But know that no matter what he does, no matter what he says, you and I are already a family."

He wraps you in a sweaty hug, and you laugh and shriek.

And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

It was the day.

The crowd was buzzing, full of energy as people filtered into seats, the lights blazing. You sat in a bunch with Mark, Amy, Julian, Jenna, and Sean (you and Ethan had long ago talked things out with him).

You had gone to Ethan's dressing room fifteen minutes prior.

He grinned at seeing you, jumping up to give you a hug. "You look so good!" you exclaim, kissing his cheek. "Thank you baby." He squeezes you, before letting go.

You had a funny thought, and in the true form of your relationship, blurted it out.

"Wouldn't it be kind of funny if you fingered me right now and use that same hand to punch him in his face?"

His jaw drops and you give him a pat on the arm. "Mark's waiting for me, knock 'em dead honey. Love you." And with that, you left, as unceremoniously as you entered.

Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me I'll drink what you think, and I'm high From smoking your jokes all damn night

They were doing prematch interviews. "So apparently, all this for a girl, huh, Ethan?" Charlie asks, Ethan stretching and rolling his head.

"She's not just some girl. The first time I saw her...It was over for me."

You huff, a smirk on your face. You swore, he was going to go to the grave with the full story. But then he looks up at where you're sitting, and he continues.

"It was five years ago. Right before she started dating...him. It was some fucking convention. She was dressed in, and I will never forget this, a black dress with lace, and she had pink flowers in her hair. I was looking for Mark, because I had lost him, somewhere, and the crowd parted, and there she was, smack in the middle of my eyes. I asked her for directions and gave her some corny joke. And that laugh, man. It was like being in the presence of a mermaid. Siren's call. And I knew that was my future wife. So she's not just some girl."

The interview continues, but you were just too dazed to even really pay attention. How could you, when the love of your life finally gave you something you wanted? God, you loved that man.

The brink of a wrinkle in time Bittersweet sixteen suddenly

But then it was time for the two of them to get into the ring. You grabbed Sean's arm, begin to panic. "Oh my god, what if he gets his ass kicked? Oh my fucking god, he's going to brawl my ex in front of the internet and all these people." You fidget with your skirt with the other hand.

"Hey hey hey, it's going to be alright," Sean says.

I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night Your friends are around, so be quiet I'm trying to stifle my sighs

You start to panic at the actual thought of a fight, of Ethan being hurt. "Hey is she alright?" you hear Ted's voice from several seats behind you, but Mark motions at him to sit down.

"It's alright, we've got it," Mark tells him. Mark opens a water bottle and Amy holds it up to you.

"Take a sip, you'll feel better," Sean says, but you aren't convinced. You drink anyways, having a silent prayer as they prepare for the fight.

'Cause I feel so high school (I feel so high school) Every time I look at you But look at you

What a spectacle this was. Your boyfriend and ex about to "fight over you" like something out of a shitty high school movie.

You tried to remember what Ethan said to comfort yourself, about how he saw you, and just saw his future wife. Unfortunately it was not helping, and everyone could see your panic.

Sean grabs your hands trying to ground you.

Down in the ring, Ethan looks for you, and spots you again, fairly quickly. He can now see your panic, and Sean trying to calm you down.

Schlatt however, also sees this, and makes a grave error.

Fully aware of what happened the night of the party, having followed you two out, and having heard the rumors, he lets something slip.

"Huh, Look at her up there with SepticEye. No wonder you need to fight me so bad. You're insecure about our girl being a slut."

Truth, dare, spin bottles (yeah) You know how to ball, I know Aristotle Brand new, full-throttle (yeah)

And with the referee starting the match, Ethan almost immediately punches Schlatt in the face.

"Call my girl a fucking slut again and I'm gonna punch your teeth out," Ethan spats out, swinging even harder.

He doesn't miss.

He doesn't continue to miss.

He was originally just going to try to have fun, remembering what you said, and your fight. But Schlatt had to open his fucking mouth and insult you.

Yeah, you made mistakes. But you were the girl of Ethan's dreams. And how could he let anyone disrespect you?

So he gave the fight every iota of energy he had, and man, did the experience wear off.

He beats Schlatt easily, without even hesitation.

Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto It's true, swear, scouts honor (yeah) You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her

He runs out to the stands where you are the moment he is allowed to, jumping over various objects and bleachers to reach you.

Before you can even get a word in, he's cradling your face, scanning your facial features for any lingering panic.

"Are you okay? I saw you hyperventilating before we started, are you alright?"

He doesn't even care that he was supposed to do a post match interview, he just wants to make sure you were okay.

You hug him, sweat be damned, a bone crushing hug. "I love you. The moment I was in there I just wanted to get out and check on you," he cries. "Just don't ever fight my ex again in a boxing ring for the internet and thousands of people to see, I don't think my brain is built for that."

He laughs, before repeating himself. "I love you." "I love you," you say back, before pulling his face in for a kiss.

You don't look at Schlatt on the way out. Don't even notice him. You don't give a fuck, quite frankly, and just want to get your boyfriend out of his sweaty clothes.

An hour later, you're throwing Ethan his congratulations party, with your friends (yes, even Ted), and his friends all congregated in the backyard. Everyone's playing games, conversing, drinking the punch you made, overall just having a good time.

And then something unexpected happens.

You had seen Ethan and Julian go repeatedly into a corner to talk somewhere multiple times, and while you tried to brush it off, a familiar feeling enters your body.

After about the fourth time, when Ethan comes back, you stop him. "Ethan Nestor, you better not be planning to announce something outrageous again."

He gives you a soft smile, and just says "you'll see, babe."

But nothing comes of it. The party comes and goes, and people leave. As the two of you sit on the couch, reflecting on the night, Ethan clears his throat, cutting the silence.

"I have something to give you. I was going to give it to you in the dressing room, but you dipped out of there so quickly. By the way, loved your idea, shame we couldn't do it."

You both chuckle, before he smiles at you. "And I thought about it, and everything about the last few months has been put out there for everyone to look at, like a circus, so I wanted to give it to you with just us."

"What?" you quietly ask him.

"It's for you, but in the long run, it's sort of like for us? I know you already said we are a family, but this makes it...more real, in a sense. Like I said tonight, about the first time I saw you..."

The puzzle pieces click once again for you, but this time, you aren't nervous, or scared, or queasy.

He reaches for his pant pocket and pulls it out.

"I've been in love with you for five years, and every day since we've actually been together has been amazing. I didn't know quite what it was to love someone until I saw you."

He opens it.

Brand new, full-throttle (yeah) You already know, babe You already know, babe

"Will you-"

"Yes."

[sciderman]

hi sci!! i love your art!! i was wondering how you come up with and work out your plot for ask spiderpool and like where you want it to go? I like writing and drawing but i'm really bad at coming up with and sticking to a plot yk?

hi anon!! thank you!!!

nothing starts off fully formed, anon! plot is difficult - even with my fics, there's often very little in the way of plot - there's just a starting point, and then you write, and you write, and you keep writing, and you gain momentum and it eventually goes somewhere. it's constantly shifting and evolving, and it very rarely sticks to a plan.

when i started i didn't have very much of a plan other than "they're roommates. but it would be cool if they kissed at some point." and everything else kind of just followed after. their personalities and flaws and quirks just started accumulating with every ask i answered - and with every ask i answered, it started becoming clearer and clearer that they probably weren't going to kiss any time soon.

i think when i write, absolutely everything is dictated by character - and sometimes that's the enemy of plot. you might have it in your head "these characters need to go here." but wait a second. one of the characters really doesn't want to go here, and that's where you have to put in the work. plot alone is so dull without characters actively resisting - characters having faults they need to overcome to GET from a to b.

for me, the plot should exist to force the character to overcome their flaws. if the plot exists and isn't in any way tied to the character and their flaws then... god. this is why so many marvel movies and current comics really fall flat for me. i really don't care about how elaborate your plot is, and all the twists and whatever - if it isn't personal, and doesn't serve your character at all, there's - there's... what's the point?

when i started the blog, it kind of became really clear the things wade and peter needed to overcome before they can love each other - so. one. peter needs to overcome his biases and holier-than-thou attitude over wade. and wade? wade's practically a doormat, and needs to realise peter isn't some unshakeable beacon of perfection. not only that, but wade's possessive. he's greedy, and wants ownership over peter.

so what to do. what to do to fix all of that.

peter needs to screw up, betray wade's trust.

wade needs to see peter get ugly.

wade needs a moment to be truly unselfish.

to prove himself a hero.

i think maybe the best way to build out a plot is bare-bones. step one. where do you want the characters to get to. what's the end game? for that first era of ask-spiderpool, i wanted wade and peter to get together. as a couple. okay. claps hands together. what is stopping that from happening right now. and what can i throw at them to get them to overcome that.

right now on ask-spiderpool, now that they're together - the end game is adopting ellie. what's stopping them? trauma. so much trauma. i have so many scripts about ellie ready, but when i came back i was hit with the brick wall of "oh. oh god. wade needs so much therapy first. so much therapy."

so basically, all the plot is to the ends of getting wade and peter to figure their shit out before they can have the thing they want. and ouugh, they act against me all the time. sometimes to the point where i get writers block - and then i go for a run, or a swim, and my mind is hacking away at how to solve those issues.

i guess my advice is... first! what's your end goal. where do you want these characters to be? why aren't they there already? how can you forcibly push them there, kicking and screaming? there you go.