#juggling gloving

[dollyichi]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN!

pro-hero katsuki bakugou x actress f ! reader ᯓ★ he finds out who the main admin is of his biggest fan page. 1.4k words. fluff / established relationship / not proofread / little smau at the end

spin-off from ‘a little mystery never hurt anybody’ [m—dni]

katsuki never cared about his image at all. nor did he care about what people post about him online. aside from his own beliefs, he only cares about what you think, and if you think he’s ‘fucking cool’ then he’s fucking cool.

he only ever checks social media and posts something that you’re a part of. if he had the chance to have all his platforms with a picture of you both or even just you, he’d do it—but you would scold him and tell him that he should just have a photo of himself. which you had to do instead since he’s stubborn and wouldn’t know what photo would look the best.

well fortunately for you, who has an album of pictures of him whether you took it yourself to gate-keep, from his fan sites, or his modeling / commercial projects just picked one portrait that would match his overall style. not too much, not too zoomed out, but still would exude that cool side that you loved so much.

and the moment you changed his profile you’re already switching to your verified fan account to notify your followers of his new profile photo. multiple notifications spawn at your lockscreen, the tweet already blew up too.

your co-admins don’t even know that it was the ‘dazzling actress y/n’ running the account in the first place, and it was for the better. you always had this account the moment katsuki was in his third year in UA. usually posting threads about how amazing of a hero he is, or his rankings in the recent fan polls such as ‘hottest hero’ or ‘most powerful rookie hero quirks!’ and your favorite, ‘heroes i wanna get in bed with.’ just from that, anyone other than you knowing your identity would be real bad.

pro-hero dynamight always had a loyal fanbase anyway. and you were always the first account they’d come to for any news on him.

when you started dating you had to ask for some help which is why you had some of your followers (who have been supporting your blog for so long too!) to assist you when you couldn’t post as frequently as you used to. it was easy to juggle the fan account while you were starting as an actress, but when you started dating katsuki, manning the page is a big challenge. he’ll definitely find out in no time since personal space was thrown out the window when you became his.

you wanted to keep it a secret since you were still such a big fan and it felt like a waste deleting the account since you worked so hard on it—pouring so much passion on it despite being with the main source. there were even times when you begged your staff to get him to sign your merch, which you happily post on the fan page too, wearing thick gloves because you figured katsuki would recognize you immediately.

sometimes you would slip and mess up. your co-admin posting about katsuki taking a photo of your new digital billboard by the station. and you accidentally quoted the tweet on your fan page that reads ‘he really likes me~’ and you immediately take it down before the viewer count goes up.

it was a very close call, and when someone did ask you about it since some of them had notifications on for your account you just made up an excuse like ‘i mean y/n! sorry it was a typo.’

sometimes you’d get katsuki to look at the fan page when you both have free time. and he only ever likes the tweets when it involved you. like when you’re both spotted on a date, or a quote from an interview of him promoting your own projects.

you begged him to follow and he didn’t really think that much of it. shrugging and pressing the button and going back to indulging himself beside you.

you never really post any updates on the pro-hero that’s related to you though. and when you do find out about it, you had your co-admins to thank. especially for that one video clip of him struggling to take a picture of another billboard you had in the middle of the city.

until one day, the two of you were apart for a bit. he was out on a mission, and it’s sad that he couldn’t spend the first few days of your break with you.

nonetheless, you are currently working with his fan sites near the area for some updates on him at the time. you end up missing him too much when they send you the photos in your direct messages. though, “he looks really good,” you think to yourself. up in the air with that pretty grin of his whenever he wins.

on your fan page you always have that certain ‘watermark’ when you make a post. ending the tweet with ‘admin ⭐️💥’ to indicate that it was you posting.

quickly, you make a new post about his new feat, scheduling to have it posted on the next day.

you didn’t think much of it, just happy that your boyfriend was safe and he could come home earlier to you.

when you wake up, katsuki’s already back home seated on his side of the bed. but what was unusual was for him to be on his phone this early. concerned, you reach out to him, hoping there wasn’t an emergency or anything bad that happened.

then he starts laughing that goofy laugh of his that you love. which gets you to giggle yourself, “what’s so funny?” you give him a kiss on his cheek as a morning greeting. it’s nice waking up to him so happy, until you feel your own face drop in horror on the screen.

it was your tweet, with that exact format that you always used—not on your fan page, but at your own main account with already thousands of engagement. you feel yourself sink in your spot on the bed.

you did it now, you knew you shouldn’t be posting when you’re sleepy. now you fucked up, big time. you don’t even want to know the replies on that post, and you couldn’t even face your boyfriend who’s already crying from laughing so hard.

“you’re such a dumbass no wonder you kept pestering me about this fan account.”

you groan, hiding yourself under the covers. you couldn’t even imagine what’s going to become of you and how your manager’s going to react. it’s not like you could just abandon your following either! “it’s different as a fan!”

you take your phone from the bedside table and delete the tweet immediately. it’s been 30 minutes after you scheduled it, but there’s nothing you could even do to remedy the mistake. not when thousands have already seen your tweet. you don’t even know how to tell your co-admins who probably found out your real identity.

“just kill me!” you say, wrapping the comforter around you which leaves nothing for him anymore. he puts his phone down and wraps an arm on you. “don’t be so fuckin’ embarrassed babe. if it helps i’m your number one fan too.”

you won’t budge, staying still in your self made blanket burrito with a pout. facing away from him and with a huff. you were so embarrassed that your whole body freezes, and your mind goes blank. “hey come on, i’m happy about it!” you hear him say.

you could already feel the scoldings of your manager, you just hope this is mainly good publicity if it resurfaces—because you’re damn sure a lot of your shared fans are going to spread it all over the net.

“don’t fuckin’ ignore me babe! i’m really damn flattered here!” and he’s laughing again. he really couldn’t take it seriously, and you really wish this was just a really bad dream. it’s not like you wanted to keep it a secret forever! but you didn’t think he’d find out this way, bummer.

he pulls you on top of him, kissing all over your pouting face that’s sticking out from the thick comforter. “ah fuck this is so good! i bet when we get married you’re just on your phone posting live updates or some shit.”

you’re never going to hear the end of this. especially not when he digged a little deeper and found your ‘thirst’ postings from years ago. oh well, at least he knows you’ve always loved him. it was honestly such an ego boost learning his girlfriend just ‘as obsessed’ as he is towards you. besides, his page was almost a fan page of you in itself. whatever, you’re gonna laugh it off next week anyway.

at least you’ve given him another new thing that has him head over heels for you again.

bonus!

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : aaaaa this was so funny to me idk T^T it’s really stupid

[wwaheoh]

“Falling Asleep on The Job” - Victoria Housekeeping x gnReader (Platonic)

Alexandrina Sebastiane, Corin Wickes, Ellen Joe, Von Lycaon

a/n: writing this at 2 am but unlike the reader, i dont have a ghost milf to be there when i wake up...

As the newest member of Victoria Housekeeping, it had been a bit of a shaky transition. Still in high school, you’ve had to juggle your studies, hobbies, and your part time job all at once, it was a lot to hold on to- not even mentioning any extracurriculars or social life you might have.

So, all in all, pretty stressful. Especially now, coming back from your break, it seemed like the teachers were all trying to one-up each other on how many pages of homework they’d give. It had all begun to affect your wellbeing, always trying your best to give it your all, hours of studying began to dig into your sleep time.

An hour or two into the night began to become going to sleep at 4 AM or even just not sleeping at all and staying up through energy drinks.

After a particularly hard week- where you hadn’t slept at all last night and barely slept the day before that, you finally broke.

Shadows under your eyes, sweaty arms, twitchy hands, legs that felt like lead, and a light pressure on your forehead. You had been put on shift to help clean up a house, the usual stuff, thankfully nothing with any underlying “help” required.

As you were sweeping dust off a windowsill, you began to feel the familiar wave of tiredness wash over you. Muscles felt exhausted, a yawn threatening to escape you. Deciding to sit on a nearby chair to rest a little, you began to be lulled into a deep slumber. Head bobbing, eyelids drooping down- a desperate but ultimately futile attempt at staying awake.

And then you conked out.

Slowly you woke up, blur in your eyes that you had to blink away a few times before your vision cleared. You were turned horizontally- actually you weren’t where you had accidentally fallen asleep in the first place!

Immediately you rushed to get up, “Oh shi-!” before a mature, warm voice softly hushed you, a gloved hand slowly drifted you back down and set your head down on something soft.

Looking up, you saw Ms. Sebastiane looking down on you, a soft smile on her face as she pet your hair. From the lighting of the room, it was clear some time had passed. Meaning that you’d fallen asleep on the job.

“I-I’m so sorry Miss!” You let out, mortified at having fallen asleep- especially with how often housekeeping wasn’t the only thing Victoria Housekeeping did. Something terrible could have happened- and while there were other members of the company here, you would have been a liability.

“It’s okay dear,” She started with her usual caring tone, “You’ve been pretty out of it recently, Ms. Ellen told us of how your shared academics might be affecting your quality of life.” Her hands brushed softly against your hair, a spell of sleep beginning to overtake you once more. “It’s not wrong to ask for some time off, your health matters most.”

“Go back to sleep, I shall awake you once it is time for us to head back.”

You relaxed, her lap being used as a pillow as she let you sleep until it was time to go back home.

Something soft underneath the side of your head, you were lying down now- different to how you slept. Oh! You fell asleep! Quickly rushing to get up with a few expletives, a timid voice called out to you, “Uhm! You don’t need to get up!”

Looking at the source of the voice, you realized that you had fallen asleep on the job, leaving your coworker, Corin, all by her lonesome. Or at least on this side of the premises.

“Ah, I’m so sorry Corin!” You quickly tried to fix the couch you had been moved to, arranging the pillows and patting the cushions to make it seem as if no one had been sleeping on it.

“N-no! It’s fine!” You turned to her, confused but hopeful that she wasn’t just saying that to calm you down. “Uhm, I heard about how school’s been pretty tough, Ellen- I mean no one told us how it might be affecting you. You can rest for now! I’ll uhm, wake you up when I need help!”

You were thankful for her, worried that she’d be angry that you basically ditched her for sleep. Of course she probably wouldn't be that angry- she never got mad at Ellen whenever she slept on the job, but it was still a thought in the back of your head. Nodding, you sat back onto the couch as the feeling of drowsiness began to take hold again.

“Sweet uhm, dreams!” Corin whispered, worried that it wasn’t the right thing to say or not in the right context.

Slowly waking, you were still vertically sleeping, however where you had fallen asleep had changed. Quickly you got up, looking around for an indication of the time or Ellen, your coworker- and classmate, who you were partnered with for this part of the premises. It didn’t seem like she was around, but that begged the question of who moved you…

“Oi,”, You nearly yelped as you quickly turned to the person you hadn’t noticed, “Don’t move so fast… you woke me up.”

It.. seemed Ellen had the same problem you did, it made sense, the both of you did share multiple classes.

“Uhm-” “If you’re worried about waking up before the client gets here, don’ worry, I’ll wake you up.” “Oh! Uh, thank you.” “Mm…”

She promptly fell right back to sleep, with you following shortly after.

Slowly your eyes blinked open. You felt as if you just had the best sleep of your life. A soft pillow under your head, a warm blanket covering you, a homey scent of a candle nearby. Oh my gods you fell asleep at work and were acting like you were at home- hell even better than home.

You began to scramble out of this makeshift bed before a gloved hand firmly set itself on your shoulder. Turning to the owner, your heart stopped as you came face to face with your boss.

Quickly tears began to form at the edge of your eyes, mortification at having fallen asleep on the job and waking up in front of your boss. A therian that prided themselves on keeping a professional atmosphere and providing top-notch service to their “Master”s.

“I- I’m so-”

“Shh.. it’s of no trouble.”

God, was he going to fire you after this?

“No, I will not. Please, I’ve been informed of your recent academics and how they might be affecting your work-life balance.” He interrupted any other thoughts you might have had, as if he were reading your mind. “While I prefer you not to fall asleep while we are keeping the home of our Masters, I won’t be upset for minor inconvenience.” His voice was warm, deep, with a voice that seemed to lull you back to sleep.

“Now rest, I will awake you once the Master is due to arrive.”

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés with: Riddle Rosehearts

Cliché: The Grand Romantic Gesture

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Vil ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil

The moment you decided to court Riddle Rosehearts, you knew you had to bring your A-game. And by A-game, you meant memorizing all 810 laws of the Queen of Hearts.

Did anyone ask you to? No.

Did anyone want you to? Probably not.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Riddle noticing you.

The first rule you put into practice was Rule 178: "When presenting flowers, they must be in groups of three, six, or nine." So, naturally, you showed up at Heartslabyul one day holding a perfectly arranged bouquet of nine red roses.

"For you," you said, holding them out with a bow that lingered precisely three seconds, no more, no less (Rule 12).

Riddle blinked, his face shifting from neutral to the faintest pink. “You— You’re following the rules?”

“Of course,” you replied smoothly. “I wouldn’t dare present flowers improperly to the Heartslabyul Dorm Leader.”

Cater whistled from somewhere behind him. Trey raised a brow. Riddle, meanwhile, looked like he might short-circuit.

“W-Well, good,” he managed, clutching the roses like they were something sacred. “It’s refreshing to see someone with proper manners.”

You grinned, internally high-fiving yourself. Step one: complete.

You’d researched extensively for your next move. Rule 47: “A surprise tea party must include the guest bringing their own cup and saucer.”

When Riddle called an impromptu tea party, you arrived armed with not only a cup and saucer but a tiny tray of perfectly portioned sweets, arranged in compliance with Rule 290: “Desserts served at tea parties must be bite-sized and arranged symmetrically.”

The silence as you set them on the table was deafening.

Trey looked mildly impressed. Cater snapped a picture. Riddle, on the other hand, stared at you like you’d just recited Shakespeare in iambic pentameter while juggling teacups.

“You…” He cleared his throat. “You’ve been studying the rules?”

“Of course,” you said, taking your seat and stirring your tea exactly three times counterclockwise (Rule 723). “It’s only proper.”

“I—Yes, well—” His ears turned bright red as he took a bite of one of your desserts. “You’ve done well,” he muttered, almost too quietly to hear.

You didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for the rest of the tea party.

By the time you hit Rule 810—“A declaration of admiration must be made with precision, sincerity, and a token of affection”—Riddle was this close to losing it.

You didn’t plan to deploy it that day. You were just practicing it in your head when you ran into him at the rose garden. He was inspecting the flowers, his brows furrowed in that way that somehow made him even cuter.

“Rule 810,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Riddle turned to you, confused. “What?”

Crap. No turning back now.

You cleared your throat, stepping closer. “Rule 810 states that a declaration of admiration must be precise, sincere, and accompanied by a token of affection.” You pulled a small, hand-embroidered handkerchief from your pocket. It was decorated with roses and a tiny “R” stitched in the corner.

You held it out to him, your hands only trembling slightly. “I… I’ve memorized all the rules because I wanted to court you properly. Because I admire you. And because—well—because I love you.”

Riddle’s mouth opened, then closed. His face turned such a bright shade of red that you worried he might actually faint.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat. “You… love me?”

“Yes,” you said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Honestly, after memorizing 810 rules for you, I don’t think I could possibly love anyone else.”

Riddle stared at you, his gloved hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. For a moment, you thought he might actually explode. Then, all at once, he stepped forward, took the handkerchief, and pressed it to his chest like it was something priceless.

“I—” He took a shaky breath. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

You blinked. “I—what?”

“Who memorizes 810 rules for someone?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You’re—You’re maddening! Impossible! Utterly—” He cut himself off, taking another breath before meeting your gaze.

“…And yet, I can’t imagine anyone else doing something so utterly… thoughtful.”

You felt your heart leap into your throat as his expression softened. “You’ve done all this for me,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “And I… I’d be a fool not to accept such a heartfelt gesture.”

“So… is that a yes?” you asked, trying (and failing) not to grin.

Riddle’s blush deepened, but he nodded. “Yes.”

And then, to your utter shock, he stepped closer, reaching for your hand. “But I hope you realize,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, “that now I’ll expect you to uphold all the rules of the Queen of Hearts from now on.”

You laughed, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Masterlist

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

BLACK NOIR wants you overstimulated and fucked out. When you’re as mute as he is, he calls it a win. Any choked, quiet sounds that emit from your mouth is a fucking symphony to his ears because he knows you’re too stupid to think of anything else to say.

When you’re clutching onto the sheets, drooling all over the covers from your gaping mouth suspended in mind-numbing pleasure while he rails you from behind; when you bury your little face into the mattress to scream, louder with each thrust, as he steadies you with a glove on your tailbone: He knows he’s got you. You’re his.

He picks up his foot to settle it on the edge of the bed, standing behind you tucked between your legs, plowing into you from an angle a few degrees difference and you’re fucking writhing. The sensational friction is all too much to bear, the wet chorus of your pussy nearly as loud as your mewling. He presses down on the dimples of your backside, yanking you back onto his cock, only to bounce your ass on his hips with the force of his push. He’s fucking juggling you on him, and all you can do is bang your fist against the mattress to release some of that energy.

You wish you could tell him that it’s so much, almost too much. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head while your cunt’s being bullied into submission. Fat cock drives into your insides with reckless abandon and it hurts in such a good way. A warning hand reaches behind you, signaling him to slow down.

But he knows if you really wanted him to slow down, you wouldn’t be laying down taking it like the slut you are.

[doumadono]

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

💥Late one night, while heading home, you realized someone was tailing you. Your pace quickened, and eventually, you broke into a run, with your pursuer doing the same.

💥Running in fear, you accidentally crashed into a solid chest. Gazing upward, you recognized the face of the pro hero Bakugo Katsuki, also known as Dynamight.

💥He noticed your scared expression and asked, "What's wrong?"

💥You shared what happened, and he handled it.

💥"Come on, doll, I'll walk you home," he said after handling the person following you.

💥You and boxer!Bakugo have been dating for a while ever since. Despite being quite different, things just clicked between you two.

💥He used his limited free time to train and get stronger, while you worked as a sidekick in a pro hero's agency.

💥He was well-known in town, and folks often wondered how a timid girl like you ended up with someone as tough and dangerous as Bakugo.

💥He was the best part of your life - your tough, strong, beefy boyfriend, and your cuddle buddy at the same time.

💥You weren't exactly a fan of his boxing hobby, but you still supported him.

💥After each fight, he'd return home victorious, winning every time. But, along with the victories, he'd also bring back cuts, bruises, and a heap of pent-up frustration.

💥Seeing him so broken broke your heart; the pain weighed heavier on you than on him. You'd carefully treat his wounds, bruises, and cuts, gently asking about his fights and questioning if he's certain about pursuing his side career while also juggling daily hero duties.

💥"I'm good, doll. No need to fret," he'd reassure you as you cared for his injuries. "I enjoy boxing. It's quite calming." Honestly, for a strong guy like him, the cuts and bruises weren't that painful. Still, he allowed you to care for his injuries because it warmed him to know his girl cared so much.

💥Boxer!Bakugo enjoys hitting the boxing gym regularly for training; it keeps him toned and in impeccable shape, ready to effortlessly pursue villains.

💥One day, you decide to visit the boxing gym Bakugo frequents five times a week. After finishing your shift, you enter the gym. A friendly lady at the reception offers help, but you decline, explaining that you're just here to see your boyfriend.

💥You see him right away; there's no mistaking him. He's wearing a snug, black tank top highlighting his muscular torso and six-pack, paired with dark grey sweatpants. Black boxing gloves adorn his hands, and a black bandana secures his hair, keeping it away from his intense crimson eyes.

💥You perk up hearing Katsuki's grunts as he throws punches and kicks at the heavy bag. Watching your boyfriend train gets you all excited. A quiet sigh escapes you as you notice sweat trickling down his forehead and nose, dripping to his neckline, and running under his black tank top. You bite your lower lip - he looks oh so fuckable.

💥Spotting you, he grabs a towel, mops his sweaty face, and strides to the edge of the boxing ring. "Hey, doll, what brings you here?"

💥You confess that you wanted to watch him train to get a better grasp of his world. Surprisingly, you admit you never realized how deeply he was immersed in the whole boxing thing.

💥He chuckles, "Yep, been telling you, doll. Okay, I guess that's all for today. Come, I need to change."

💥You follow Bakugo into a locker room after he assures you it's fine and no one will mind. The desires become too intense, and he pushes you against the door, shutting it firmly.

💥Protest? Not a chance. You just let out a little yelp as he catches you off guard.

💥His lips meet yours forcefully, his hands gripping your waist. You reach to remove his bandana and run your fingers through his hair.

💥Simply sharing these heated kisses with you ignites a fervor in boxer!Bakugo; he feels hornier than a teenager.

💥As he removes your snug uniform pants from your legs and casually kicks them away, his calloused finger slips in you, slowly stretching you out. You unfasten the top part of your uniform, slip it off your shoulders, then pull your arms back to peel your tight sports bra off, freeing your breasts; they bounce after being released.

💥Bakugo places wet kisses all around your exposed chest, his tongue poking out and flicking over your hardened buds as he slips another digit in you, stretching you out.

💥At that moment, you're already a moaning mess, and all of your shyness flew out of the window.

💥Bakugo emits a low growl as he senses the dampness seeping into his training sweatpants as he slips a third finger into your tight, wet hole, fucking you relentless, using his thumb to massage your clitoris. Boxer!Bakugo feels himself getting painfully hard as his cock twitches within his pants.

💥He withdraws his fingers, and there's an extra string of your wetness covering his thick digits. "Mmmm, look at ya, doll," he cooes, "already soaked, just for me."

💥Bakugo pulls down his sweatpants and boxers at one go, allowing them to pool around his ankles.

💥You yank his tight tank top off, revealing a muscular torso covered in sweat.

💥Bakugo uses the slick leftover on his hand from fingering you to lube up his rock-hard cock.

💥Gazing downward at the red tip leaking pre cum, a moan escapes your lips as you endeavor to press against his pelvis with a subtle grind as if to slide his cock in yourself already.

💥Boxer!Bakugo leans in, finally gliding the engorged tip of his dick along your dripping hole, which is clenching around nothing now.

💥He finally enters you, stretching you deliciously, and you clench around him blissfully, making him groan.

💥He promptly thrusts into you with a vigorous rhythm, yearning for the melody of your sweet moans, the snug embrace of your thighs, and the gentle contractions of your velvety walls enclosing his hard cock. Lifting you effortlessly, you instinctively coil your legs around his hips, securing your ankles behind him as your thighs press against his sides.

💥While he's fucking you, he begins uttering the most lewd words into your ear. "Yea, you like that, don't ya, doll?”; "Yea, baby, squeeze me tighter, give it to me, give it all to me!”; “Fuck, it feels so fucking good, doll.”

💥As you start moaning like a whore, Bakugo skillfully places his fingers into your mouth, a move aimed at tempering the volume of your pleasure-filled noises as you continue to moan around them.

💥You're uttering incoherent words and moans around his fingers — part desperate pleas, part unintelligible expressions —as he relentlessly fucks your tiny cunt.

💥As your cunny clench tighter around his throbbing cock, he withdraws his fingers from your mouth and descends them to firmly stimulate your clit.

💥“Yes! Please, Katsy! Right there, right there!" you moan like a cheap whore, trying to roll your hips for more friction.

💥You're trembling and convulsing as he feels you cream all over his throbbing cock. Bakugo emits a loud moan at the sensation and can't resist following suit, filling your swollen, abused pussy to the brim with his warm, thick cum. Yet, he doesn't cease there; oh, not at all.

💥With his cock still inside you, and with the mix of your cums dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs, Bakugo initiates a more rapid and vigorous rubbing against your swollen clit than in the previous instance.

💥"Come on, darling, one more for me. I know you've got it in you. Just one more. I've been fucking missing for you all day, doll."

💥Your mouth hangs agape as pleasure consumes you, drool trickling from the corner of your parted lips. "K-Kats!"

💥Katsuki spits on his hand and moves it down where you both are still conjoined, intensifying your arousal; the slick is dripping from you onto the floor as he continues to rub your wet, glistening folds.

💥You release a slight cry as you gush and squirt on his cock, spraying and covering his abdomen with the wetness; some of your juices is trickling onto the floor.

💥"Yes, doll, I knew you had it in you. Show me more, unleash everything you've got," he chuckled with a dark undertone.

💥He swiftly becomes hard once more, and thrusts in you at an unrelenting pace; occasional droplets of slick juices are squirting out of you and landing on his toned abs.

💥Boxer!Bakugo is chasing his second orgasm, basically using you as his own fucktoy; his hold is firm around your waist, and he effortlessly brings you up and down on his throbbing dick, his hips pistoning into yours.

💥At this stage, your juices are beyond control - every thrust Bakugo gives is met by a gush of your wetness, creating a pool on the floor. "Kats! Kats! O-Oh! OH! Fuuuck!"

💥Bakugo halts abruptly, executing a series of preliminary thrusts before you feel his warm cum shoot into your abused pussy once more.

💥You cry out, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, as Bakugo gently lowers your feet to the ground.

💥After he pulls his flaccid dick out of you, the blend of your cums trickles down your trembling thighs.

💥"You did so well f'me, doll," he whispered before kissing you again. "Well, looks like we both could use a shower. Fuck, you've worn me out more than a hardcore training session, doll."

[omedapixel]

MORE DEBUG OBJECTS

By poular demand, here are the rest of the prop and miscellaneous objects enabled for decorating! I don't have any pics right now, but the full list of objects is below the cut, and each package is merged by expansion pack.

As with my other debug objects, these can all be found under DEBUG > MISC. The catalog names are often something weird, because I haven't edited or added any strings.

These objects are technically not CC, it just allows you to access and decorate with objects that are already in game. Therefore you can uninstall these overrides, share worlds and lots using them, and they'll still remain wherever you've placed them.

Also, if you have a default replacement for any of these props, for example a plate default, then the object will also be updated to reflect that.

I highly reccomment using this in conjunction with my S3DT mod, since some of the objects are half sunk into the ground by default.

DOWNLOAD HERE

Object List Below

BASE GAME:

Guitar Case

Amplifier

Bottle Spigot (unused asset)

Child Ladle

Child Mixing Bowl

Cutting Board (slots do no work, unfortunately)

Fire Extinguisher

Fire Poker

Fire Lighter

Hammer

Bartending Bottle Prop

Ice Cream Cone

Microwave Meal

Paper Plate

Screwdiver

Sponge

Toilet Brush

Wedding Ring

Wrench

WORLD ADVENTURES:

Canteen

Chopsticks

Dig Site Brush

Flour Bag

Fortune Cookie

Map (looks like plain parchment)

Nectar Glass

Nectar Tray

Pamphlet

Pickaxe

Pungi (snake charming instrument)

AMBITIONS:

Chisel

Fire Axe

Blowtorch

Chainsaw

Detonator

Gnubb Bunny

Gnubb King

Junk Pipe Piece

Magnifying Glass

Notepad

Shovel

Tape Measure

Tattoo Gun

Triangle Ruler

Walkie Talkie

LATE NIGHT:

Drink Shaker

Drumstick

Party Glass

Round Party Glass

Bartending Bottle Prop

Juice Can

GENERATIONS:

Envelope

Love Letter Envelope

Cheap RAM Disk

Expensive RAM Disk

Beaker

Rolled Diploma

Flashlight

Game Controller

Greeting Card

Round Flask

Sparkling Juice (champagne)

PETS:

Hoofpick

Adult Pitchfork

Child Pitchfork

Plastic Pet Food Bowl

Cat Hunting Chip Bag

Cat Hunting Feather

Cat Hunting Leaf

Dog Treat

Foal Bottle

Horse Brush

Litter Scoop

Pet Brush

Stick (for playing fetch)

Freezer Bunny Ice Cream

Kitty Litter Pile

Rainbow Ice Cream

(forgot to do the chocolate ice cream, sorry!)

SHOWTIME:

CD Case

Record

Golf Ball

Juggling Pin

Microphone (grey)

Snack Bowl

Headphones

Golf Club Average

Golf Club Expert

Golf Club Old

Firefly Jar

FireflyJar Lid

Juggling Knife

Magician Sword

SUPERNATURAL:

Fly Swatter

White Glove

Bonehilda Key

Alchemy Bowl

Alchemy Package

Beehive Smoker

SEASONS:

Horseshoe

Child Rake

Adult Rake

Barista Bar Cup

Egg Hunt Basket

Trick or Treat Basket

Carving Knife

Fruit Punch

Hot Beverage Cup

Stack of Hot Dogs

Love Letter

Pie (from eating contest)

Snow Cone Syrup

Soccer Ball

Tissue

Spooky Day Candy

UNIVERSITY:

Clipboard

Red Juice Cup

Art Scanner

Bonfire Logs

Candy Bar

Cold One

College Letter

Energy Drink

Manilla Envelope

Macot Plushy

Ping Pong Ball

Ping Pong Paddle

Mistletoe (unused asset)

Protest Banners (3 versions)

Protest Flyer

Smartphone

Soda Can

Paint Sray Can

Suitcase

Whiteboard Eraser

Whiteboard Marker

ISLAND PARADISE:

Broom

Coconut Drink

Cold Beverage

Grim Reaper Trident

Pineapple Drink

Rescue Tube

Glass Bottle Pool Bar

Pool Bar Juice Can

INTO THE FUTURE:

Microphone (black)

OIl Puddle

Stardust

Paper Bag

[docrobinavitch]

say goodbye like you mean it | part two

dr. robby x f!charge nurse!oc content: 18+ mdni, domestic violence, explicit sexual content, swearing, vague age gap (oc mid to late thirties) words: 4.8k PART ONE | PART THREE

synopsis: gwen keating is still adjusting to her new role in the pitt while juggling her feelings for dr. robby. a case comes into the ER that threatens to jeopardize everything she's built. a/n: thank you all for the love on part one!! i hope you all enjoy this next part. there will be at least two more.

The ER had adjusted quickly to Gwen’s presence over the next month or so, showing her the same deference they showed Dana. After a couple of weeks, Gwen began covering all her shifts and Dana only came in once a week to see how she was doing. The transition was going smoothly.

It was a Monday morning and the shift change was beginning to occur. Javadi and Santos watched as Robby came up behind Gwen, a hand on the small of her back as he said something quietly in her ear. She smiled and placed a hand on his forearm, saying something indistinguishable to them.

Santos popped open a Redbull, “They’re definitely fucking, right?”

Javadi looked at her with wide eyes, “You think so?”

“All I know is I have never seen Dr. Robby so goddamn happy,” She sipped her Redbull, “It makes me nauseous.”

Javadi smiled, “I think it’s sweet.”

The truth was, though there had been gentle touches, loaded glances, and light flirtation between them, nothing further had occurred since that night at the bar. And the tension between them was taut because of it. It didn’t interfere with their jobs, but the yearning was palpable in every glance.

They were discussing supplies, Gloria, and the usual who could be discharged and who was still waiting for a bed upstairs. 

“We had a couple nurses call out sick just before the shift change, so you’ll be seeing more of me with the patients to compensate,” Gwen said as she looked through the charts on the iPad.

“Okay,” Robby nodded, “Do we need to call anyone in?”

“Um,” Gwen blew out a breath and her hair fluttered around her face with the breeze, “We really don’t have anyone on call today. If it gets really bad, I’ll have to call some people from the night shift, but that’ll leave them short. We might be able to manage without.”

Robby shook his head, “Have you told Gloria?”

“Yeah, but she gives me the same excuses she gives you.”

At that moment, McKay walked by with a woman in a wheelchair, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her abdomen. Her wrist was very clearly broken as well.

“Dr. Robby?” McKay said as she passed, “Could use your help with this one.”

Robby nodded and grabbed some gloves, “Gwen?” He turned and faced her walking backwards, “Would you like to assist?”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. Porting her iPad, she grabbed a pair of gloves and jogged after him.

Dr. McKay presented, explaining that the woman had fallen down the stairs, and broken her wrist on the fall. She recommended some X-rays and they examined her abdomen for internal bleeding or broken ribs. Gwen noted with some apprehension that some of the bruises on her abdomen appeared days old rather than hours. The doctors didn’t seem to notice.

And then the husband came in. 

“Sorry, baby, I was just parking the car.” He immediately rushed to his wife’s side and when Gwen saw the smallest flinch from the wife, her brain went into overdrive.

She watched as Robby and McKay explained to the wife and her husband about her injuries and next steps and she watched as the husband spoke for his wife. By the time the exam had finished, she thought she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. 

“Dr. Robby?” She said as they began to leave the room, “Can I talk to you for minute?”

“What’s up?” He said as they stepped away from the patient and he rubbed some sanitizer into his hands.

“There’s something wrong in there.” She couldn’t properly form the words, she knew she sounded stupid. The panic was building in her chest like a tidal wave, “With the husband.”

“What do you mean?”

Gwen closed her eyes, shaking her head, “Those injuries were not accidental.”

It took him a moment, but he caught up eventually and placing a hand on her back, he ushered her into an empty room and closed the door behind them, “How do you know? Her injuries seemed consistent with a fall.”

“The bruises on her abdomen, many of them were older than just a couple hours. I bet when the imaging comes back, the wrist fracture will be a couple days old, you’ll probably see older breaks as well. When he came close to her, she flinched away from him and wouldn’t meet his eye. She wouldn’t look at any of us either once he came in and he spoke for her the whole time.”

Robby nodded slowly, “Okay, we’ll keep an eye on it. Why don’t you alert Kiara and we’ll see if we can separate them at some point?”

Gwen was shaking her head and frustration built as she felt tears prick her eyes, “No, we have to call the police.”

Robby tilted his head, “It’s a bit early for that, I think.”

“He could take her out of here at any second if he thinks there’s any chance we’ve caught on—“

“And if we call the police and they don’t think there’s enough evidence, you could make things worse for her when they go home.”

She was still shaking her head, growing more and more upset as the conversation went on, struggling to breathe and tears beginning to spill over.

“Hey, why don’t you sit down and—“

“Excuse me.” Gwen said abruptly and brushed past him back into central.

“Gwen,” Robby called loudly after her, loud enough that most of the nurses and doctors around stopped to look as she fled to the bathroom.

Locking the door behind her, she slid to the floor, desperately trying to slow her breathing as the sobs came in full force.  It’s not James, she repeated to herself, He’s not here. James is not here. He can’t hurt you.

Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair, trying to soothe herself. Images of him screaming at her, kicking her, punching her bombarded her every sense and she couldn’t see or hear anything else.

She was vaguely aware that Robby was banging on the door and calling her name. She wished he would stop causing a scene. She had had episodes like this in the past, granted, not for many moons now, but when she had they had subsided in about ten minutes. She just needed to be left alone.

Eventually, the panic began to subside, but it left her shaky and feeling tired. Robby had stopped banging on the door, but she could vaguely hear him talking to someone on the other side. Checking herself in the mirror, she reclipped her hair and hastily swiped at the mascara that had leaked below her eyes before opening the door.

Robby looked at her with surprise and concern on his face. She didn’t wait to see what he had to say, simply breezed past him and went back to the hub.

Unfortunately, he followed. She pretended not to notice and sat behind her computer, logging in as he parked himself in front of her, “Are we going to talk about that?”

“Talk about what?” Gwen said.

“Dr. Robby! We need you in trauma one!”

He sighed and bent his head over his hands, “Call Kiara, but I don’t want you in that room. Assign her a different nurse.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” She immediately regretted her snarkiness, but did not look up or make any indication that she was remorseful. 

“Gwen,” He said softly, pleadingly. She didn’t deserve the patience he was giving her. Any other attending probably would have reamed her out by now.

“Dr. Robby, we need you now!”

“Coming!” He shouted, “Gwen?” He said again softly.

She looked up at him, “I’ll take care of it. Call Kiara, reassign the bed, consider it done.”

“Good.” He said and then he was gone.

***

Gwen did her best to focus on other patients and all the other work she needed to get done, but she kept walking by the room with the patient she suspected was being abused. She had assigned Princess to her instead and had asked for updates, which she had given. As Gwen had suspected, the imaging came back with aged breaks and the wrist fracture was a couple of days old.

Robby hadn’t sought her out since her breakdown, but Gwen had watched him talk with Kiara a few times now in the last couple of hours. She had done a good job of distracting herself thus far, but the panic was beginning to build again. She needed to know they were taking care of her, that they understood acutely how much danger that woman was in.

She caught Robby as he was coming out of the bathroom, “Hey, can we talk about Central 4?”

“You’re not supposed to be on that case anymore.”

“I’m not, Princess is.”

“So go talk to Princess then.”

She supposed she deserved that, “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier, it was disrespectful of both you and the patient. It won’t happen again.”

“Great,” Robby said and began walking past her.

“That said, I was hoping you could give me an update?”

He slowed to a stop, sighing and turning back to her, “Gwen, you know I respect you very much, but I don’t think it’s in anyone’s best interest for you to be involved on that case. At all, even at a distance. Kiara and I are taking care of it, that’s all you need to know.”

“But—“

“Gwen, please,” He put his hands together, “We will discuss it later, I promise.”

And then he left her there, standing in the middle of the ER. She knew she had no right to be upset, but she could feel herself drowning in the knowledge that she had no control over the outcome of this case. It triggered the feeling of her own helplessness when she was the one being punched and kicked at home. When she thought there was no way out.

She couldn’t stand the thought that there was another woman in this very room that was going through that at this moment. Nobody else seemed to be dealing with it with the urgency she knew it needed.

Gwen could feel herself unraveling, following a path she wasn’t sure she could come back from. There were four hours left of this shift and she really wanted to still have her job by the end of it.

“Gwen?” 

She blinked and realized Whitaker was standing in front of her, “Sorry, Whitaker, what do you need?”

“Oh, nothing, I just… Are you okay? You seem off today.”

She forced a smile, “I’m fine, thanks. How are you doing?”

He shrugged, “It’s okay, today. Haven’t had to change my scrubs yet so I count that as a win.”

She was grateful for the distracting conversation, she could practically feel her heartbeat slow.

She could do this. She could get through this shift without losing her job. She could put the woman in Central 4 into Robby and Kiara’s hands and trust that everything would be fine.

***

Two hours later, Central 4 was being discharged and Gwen couldn’t breathe. 

“What did you do?” Gwen asked Robby in disbelief as the husband began wheeling his despondent wife out of the ER.

“Let’s go talk about this in private, hm?”

He began to guide her into an empty room and despite her rage, she let herself be guided.

“What the fuck did you do?” She snarled as the door closed behind them.

“Kiara tried, but she insisted the injuries were accidental. We gave her a card so she could call if she changes her mind. It’s out of our hands.”

“Like hell it is,” She pulled her charge phone from her scrubs pocket, “I’m calling the police.”

Robby plucked the phone from her hands, “No you’re not. What is going on with you today? And I don’t want the bullshit excuse that everything’s fine.”

“Of course it’s not fucking fine! We just sent a woman home with her abuser and the next time she comes here she’ll probably be DOA.”

He sighed deeply, pressing his hands into his pockets, “Is this somehow related to the gap in your resume?”

Her eyes watered, but the rage remained, “Fuck you,” She said and then tried to move around him to leave.

Instead, he stood against the door like a fortress, “I can’t let you go back to work like this,” He said softly.

“Again, I’ll remind you that you are not the boss of me.”

“No, but I’m positive if I called up the Nursing Director she’d agree with me,” He shook his head slowly, “I don’t want that. I like having you here, but you need to talk to me if this is going to work.”

There was a part of her, beneath the rage and pain and fear, that knew she was being irrational. Knew that he was right, that they had done everything they could. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. She knew that better than anyone. She had once been the woman who didn’t yet want help. Who thought she could salvage it.

After everything today, Robby was still looking at her with those kind brown eyes. She wanted him to look at her like that forever. But he wouldn’t, not if she couldn’t get it together.

She took a shaky breath and sat down on a stool in the room, rubbing at her eyes as she desperately tried to find the strength to tell this story. The one she had never explained in full to anyone.

He sat across from her and their knees knocked together. He waited patiently.

Gwen’s hands trembled and she clasped them together hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I was twenty two when I met him. It was my first shift in the ER. Four hours in, cardio sent down their senior resident to consult on a case.” Closing her eyes, she could see him still, more than a decade younger. His easy smile and the one dimple on his left cheek, “He charmed me. We fell in love. The first year or two was… magical. Until it wasn’t. He started with emotional manipulation, gaslighting me. I felt crazy, like I couldn’t trust my own feelings. I was sad and angry all the time and he made me feel like it was my fault, that he gave me everything and why couldn’t I just be happy?”

Gwen swallowed and avoided looking at Robby. She knew if she did she might fall apart before she finished. “The first time he hit me… I thought… He convinced me it was an accident. We were fighting and he was just gesticulating a lot and he didn’t mean it when he punched me in the face.” Gwen almost laughs, rubbing at the tears in her eyes, “I feel so stupid now, that I believed him.”

Robby let his hand fall to her knee, squeezing reassuringly, “You’re not stupid. You wanted to believe the best in someone you loved.”

Gwen had heard this all before, so she nodded almost mechanically, “Anyway, the abuse escalated, as it does. Working in the ER made it harder to hide the injuries, but everyone knew who I was dating and he was more important than I was. I found eventually that even if I didn’t cover it up, no one said anything. If I asked, an attending would patch it up silently. No one would ask how I got hurt. The one time a nurse tried to get me help, they moved her to the night shift. Not that it mattered, I still thought I could fix it. Get him to go to therapy, anger management classes. Naive dreams that kept me in his grasp.”

“Until, one night, he got so mad…” Gwen shakes her head, hands trembling more violently now. Robby silently covered her hands with his own and it grounded her, “I don’t even remember what I did to make him so mad. I just remember that one second we were talking and the next I was on the floor and he was kicking every inch of my body as hard as he could. I eventually lost consciousness, but I was told later he waited at least a half hour before deciding to call an ambulance. I almost died. I was in a coma for days. When I woke up, the police were there.”

The memory of it all overwhelms her. What a coward she was, how terrified. The way she ran. The way she was still running.

“The first thing I did was ask after him, if he was okay. I remember the way the cop looked at me, like she was disappointed, or disgusted.” Gwen sighed, “I dropped all charges and got a restraining order. I didn’t want to go through a trial and I didn’t want to see him in prison. Left Manhattan and moved back in with my parents, felt the weight of their disappointment with every breath. It took me almost the full two years to really understand all the ways he broke me.”

Finally, she looked at him. She expected to see pity or disgust, but his eyes still held the same kindness they always had. “Thank you for telling me.” He said softly and squeezed her hands, “But just so you know, he didn’t break you.”

Gwen laughed and looked away, tears falling to her cheeks, “I was hysterical today, it was embarrassing. I can’t even do my job.”

Robby tilted his head to regain eye contact with her, “You caught something today McKay and I both missed.”

“You would have seen it once the imaging came back.”

He shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. The point is, we were a better care team because of you and your experience. I would say that’s a far cry from being broken.”

Before Gwen could say anything, he stood and opened the door, “Now, unless you need anything else, let’s get back to it,” He glanced at his watch, “Only an hour left of our shift. You good?”

She scrubbed at her face with her hands and sighed, standing as well, “Yeah. Good.” She reached into Robby’s pocket and pulled out her charge phone, “See you on the other side.”

And then she was back at the hub. McKay came to Robby’s side, Javadi trailing after her, “Is she okay?” Her eyes followed Gwen.

Robby sighed, “She’ll be fine. Tough day.”

“Huh,” McKay said smirking, “I was unaware there was anything other than tough days around here.”

Robby huffed a laugh and tore his gaze away from Gwen, “You have a case for me?”

***

“Gwen?”

She turned when she heard Robby call behind her, only a block away from the hospital. 

“Robby.” She said in acknowledgement when he was close enough.

“You okay?” He asked.

Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, “You jogged all this way just to check in with me? I thought we already did that.”

“There’s a difference between checking in during shift when you have no choice but to be okay and checking in after. So, are you okay?”

Gwen hummed in response, “I’ll be fine. Unless you’ll be recommending to Dana that she find a new charge nurse.”

Robby shook his head, “We all have bad days sometimes that make it difficult to do our work, it doesn’t mean we’re not good at our jobs.”

“Hard to imagine the infallible Dr. Robinavitch having a bad enough day to affect his work.”

He laughed, “Oh, you haven’t been around long enough yet. You should ask my residents, hell, ask Dana. I’ve done much worse than what you did today.” He reached out and touched her arm, slowing her to a stop, “Hey, um, we haven’t talked about what happened at the bar last month—“

“We don’t have to—“

“I disagree.” He said quickly and dropped his hand from her arm, “I… thought you were just being nice when you said you weren’t ready for a relationship, but now I…” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that… whenever you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, I would love to take you out—“

Before he can properly finish his sentence, Gwen kisses him. It takes Robby only a moment before he’s reacting, arms pulling her closer, mouth searching hers hungrily. 

He guides her back until her back hits a tree and she gasps softly, “This okay?” Robby asked against her mouth.

“Yes,” Gwen said, “Don’t stop.”

His hands tangled in her hair, pulling to give himself access to her neck which he sucked at greedily, “Can I take you home?”

Gwen’s eyelids fluttered as she refocused on the man in front of her. She wanted him badly and he made her feel desirable, something she hadn’t felt in years. Maybe since college.

For once, she wanted to just give in to her own desire, without thinking about what was best, what rules she was breaking. And Robby was a good man. They hadn’t known each other very long, but she was still sure about that.

“Please.” She said.

He grinned and laced their fingers together, “Follow me.”

Robby pulled her gently after him and they giggled like teenagers as he led her to his apartment.

Once inside, they picked up right where they left off, Robby pushing Gwen up against the door as he closed it, reattaching their mouths as quickly as possible, “I’ve been fantasizing about this since the first day we met.” He breathed into her mouth.

Gwen ran her hands through his hair, “Me too.”

“Oh yeah?” Robby’s fingers began wandering under her scrubs, calluses scraping against the soft skin of her belly. Gwen hummed her affirmation.

“And what were you dreaming about, pretty girl?” 

Her breath caught and warmth pooled between her legs. His hands wandered north until he palmed one of her breasts, sighing reverently into her neck, “I’ve never known you to be short on words.” He said teasingly as his thumb ghosted over her nipple.

Gwen pushed her hands down between them, unbuttoning his cargo pants before pushing her hand to meet his erection. Pumping him just once had him immediately quiet and Gwen grinned, “Two can play at that game, Dr. Robinavitch.”

He pulled her hand back up out of his pants, kissing her as he did so, “Bed. Now.”

Robby tugged her behind him again until they got to the bedroom. He turned back to her and began tugging at her scrubs, pulling her shirt over her head, and then he stopped, sighing as he took her in.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” He said, guiding Gwen onto the bed.

“I’m a little nervous,” She said eventually, “It’s been… a long time for me.”

He nodded, “Me too. We can take it as slow as you need.”

She nodded back, pulling him back to her. He kissed from her mouth, down her neck, to her chest, gently taking her nipple into his mouth. 

Robby was true to his word. He maintained a slow, almost reverent pace as he explored her body. Learning what made her moan, what made her arch her back, what got her toes curling. “I want to touch you,” He said and fingered the waistband of her scrubs in question, “Would that be okay?”

Gwen nodded and he needed no further encouragement. He kissed her stomach as he wriggled her out of her bottoms, and then he held her gaze, “You still okay?”

“Yeah,” She said, breathless and almost dizzy with want, “You?”

He kissed her neck as his hand gently pushed her thighs apart, “Never better,” He murmured into her skin.

They both exhaled in sync as Robby gently slipped a finger inside her, “Fuck’s sake,” He swore as he felt her.

“Feels good,” Gwen said breathlessly, hands wandering under his shirt and kissing his neck.

“Yeah?” He crooked his finger inside her and rubbed his thumb around her clit, “How’s that?”

She rutted her hips into his hand, at a loss for words. It was embarrassing how close to the edge she felt already. 

“Fuck, Michael, please—“

He laughed, “Michael, now, is it?”

“This is funny to you?” Gwen asked breathlessly, fighting for her life as he continued to stroke her, “I’m about to enter cardiac arrest and you’re laughing?”

“Yes, actually,” He smirked, “I’ve never seen you so… out of control.” He watches her with an almost clinical interest as he adds another finger, “It’s very sexy.”

Her eyelids flutter closed as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, “I’m close.”

“Look at me,” Robby said, “I want you to look at me while you cum.”

With effort, Gwen manages to lock eyes with him and Robby speeds up his thrusts just enough to push her over the edge, “There you go,” Robby says as she cries out, “Good girl.”

Almost immediately, Gwen is reaching for him, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing him down on the bed.

Robby allows this, the adoration clear on his face when she straddles him, “Condom?”

He leans over to his nightstand, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a foil packet. He tears it open with his teeth before handing it to her.

“You okay?” She asks.

He nods and brings a hand up to her cheek, pulling her gently until their foreheads touch. Robby kisses her slow and gently as she works the condom onto him.

Never breaking contact, she lowers herself onto him, their sighs of pleasure in sync, “Oh, fuck,” Robby swore.

Gwen rides him slowly and he’s a fucked out mess beneath her. “Is that good?” She asks.

Robby grabs her ass with both hands and guides her up and down on his cock, “So good.” He groans, “Could you turn around for me?”

Gwen smirks, but nods. Slowly, she moves herself off him and positions herself on all fours. Robby hummed his approval, pulling her hips up just a bit and peppering kisses all over her back and ass. 

His hands gripping her hips, Robby slowly pushed himself inside her. The feel of him filling her up at this angle was so delicious, Gwen felt herself tear up a little.

Slowly moving in and out, Robby leaned over Gwen, “Think you can cum for me again, sweet girl?” He crooned in her ear.

She felt herself go molten at his gentleness, his attentiveness. It had never been like this for her in bed. She had had a few one night stands in college, selfish boys just taking what they could get, never repaying in kind. With James, making her orgasm during sex was just another thing to complete off a checklist. A chore, another obligation. 

With Robby, the idea of pleasuring her seemed to excite him just as much getting himself off. A novelty to her.

“Yeah,” She said breathlessly. 

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and pulled back slightly, slipping his hand to her front in order to stroke her clit while he thrust into her.

She moaned at the sensation and he responded in kind, increasing the speed of his strokes, “There you go, baby,” He encouraged, “You can do it, cum for me.”

Gwen unraveled for a second time, moaning Robby’s name as he coaxed her through. The contractions of her orgasm almost immediately pushed him to climax as well and they came down together.

Robby didn’t immediately pull out. Breathless, he pulled Gwen down with him to the bed, holding her so her back pressed to his chest.

He kissed her shoulders, “That was good?” He asked after a few moments.

She laughed and kissed his fingers, “Very good. Was it good for you?”

He kissed up the side of her neck to her ear, “Excellent,” He ran a hand soothingly through her hair, “Would you like to stay the night?”

“We have a shift in the morning.”

Robby hummed in affirmation.

“You want everyone to see us walk in together?”

“They’re gonna talk anyway, you know how it is in there. But if you’re not comfortable, I can walk you home.”

“No.” She said quickly, too quickly. She cocooned herself tighter in his arms, “I’d like to stay.”

“Good,” He peppered kisses on the side of her face, “I’m going to run us a shower.”

When he pulled away, she missed his touch already. As she watched him walk to the bathroom and heard the sound of the shower starting, she realized that this was the first time she had felt safe alone with a man who wasn’t her father in the last ten years.

PART THREE

[kuronarnze]

HIHIII AIII, can i request a rin x reader oneshot where like rin and the reader are like childhood bsf? Anddd their romance troupe is slow burn?? Could you make it angst to comfort pls?? THANK YOUU take your time, no need to rush :))

a/n: hihi anonn! Sorry for the late answerr, omg yes your request is literally super heartwarmingg plus i really love childhood friends to lovers + slow burn romance troupe hehe, here you goo, enjoy the oneshot :)) !! (Btww i didn't really made this oneshot angst-y but i guess there are some angst parts).

Itoshi Rin x Reader !

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Always Been You"

When Sae left, everyone else left too.

Teammates, classmates, even the teachers who used to brag about having "the Itoshi brothers" at their school... they all stopped caring once the older Itoshi disappeared overseas. Rin never talked about it, but you could see it in his eyes — that heavy, bitter loneliness he tried to hide under layers of coldness.

But you stayed.

Even when he shut down, even when the smiles you used to know disappeared completely from his face — you stayed.

You stayed when he barely spoke.

You stayed when he trained for hours.

You stayed when the only thing he seemed to care about was surpassing Sae.

You stayed because somewhere between all those years of running after him on the playground and trading snacks after soccer practice, Rin had become a part of you. He was stubborn and cold and sometimes frustrating beyond belief, but he was also Rin — your Rinnie.

And you weren't going to give up on him.

High school came and went in a blur of exams and training camps. Rin's name started to spread — the "prodigy little brother of Sae," the "future of Japanese soccer" — and you watched him grow taller, sharper, more distant from everyone else.

Everyone except you.

Somehow, even when the rest of the world saw Itoshi Rin as untouchable, you could still see the boy who isn't good at calligraphy, the boy who liked owls, the boy who never quite forgave his brother for leaving.

Still, things changed in ways you couldn't control. You weren't just "childhood friends" anymore. Not to you, at least.

Your heart started beating differently around him. Faster. Louder.

It was in the small things — the way your chest tightened when Rin grabbed your wrist to drag you to practice like he used to when you were kids. The way you caught yourself staring at him longer than you should. The way you smiled without meaning to when he mumbled your name under his breath, like a secret only meant for you.

You never told him. Of course you didn’t.

Because Rin had enough to deal with.

Because Rin probably didn't feel the same.

Because if you lost him too, you weren’t sure you could handle it.

So you buried it. Just like you always did.

One winter afternoon, you found him at the empty soccer field where he always practiced when he needed to be alone. Snow flurries danced through the cold air, coating the ground in a thin sheet of white. You tightened your scarf around your neck and made your way over to him, your boots crunching softly in the snow.

He didn't look up when you approached, just kept juggling the ball with mechanical precision, like he was trying to erase every thought from his mind except soccer.

"Rin," you called softly.

He caught the ball under his foot and finally turned to look at you. His hair was damp with sweat despite the freezing weather, his breath puffing out in little white clouds.

"You'll get sick," you said, frowning as you reached into your bag. You pulled out a thermos and held it out to him. "Here."

Rin stared at the thermos for a moment before taking it wordlessly. His gloved fingers brushed yours — a fleeting touch, but enough to make your heart stutter.

"It's hot chocolate," you added, feeling oddly shy. "You used to like it."

"I still do," he muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

You stood there in silence for a moment, watching as he took a small sip. His expression softened ever so slightly — barely noticeable to anyone else, but you caught it. You always did.

"You didn’t have to come," he said after a while, his voice low.

"I wanted to," you replied simply. "I always will."

Rin's fingers tightened around the thermos.

"You’re always doing that," he said, almost accusingly. "Staying."

You blinked. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

He didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped to the snow at his feet, his jaw clenching like he was fighting himself.

"Everyone else leaves," he finally said, so quietly you barely caught it. "You don't."

You stepped closer, close enough that you could see the small flecks of snow caught in his dark lashes.

"I’m not everyone else, Rin," you whispered. "And I'm not going anywhere."

The air between you crackled with something unspoken. Something heavy and aching and real.

Slowly, Rin lifted his head to look at you. Really look at you.

For a moment, you saw something raw in his eyes — fear, longing, hope — all tangled together in a way that made your chest ache.

And then, so slowly it felt like the world might stop spinning, he reached out and brushed a stray snowflake from your hair. His fingers lingered against your cheek, tentative, almost trembling.

"You idiot," he muttered, voice rough. "You stayed too long."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. "Rin—"

Before you could finish, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just a quiet, desperate kind of closeness, like he was trying to memorize the feeling of you.

"I don't know how to do this," he confessed, the words a broken whisper against your skin. "But if you stay... I'll figure it out."

You closed your eyes, breathing him in — the cold, the faint scent of his shampoo, the undeniable warmth of him.

"I'll stay," you promised, voice shaking. "As long as it takes."

When you finally opened your eyes, Rin was already looking at you like you hung the stars.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Rin smiled.

A small, broken, beautiful smile — just for you.

Slowly. Carefully. Like you had all the time in the world, he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead.

Not a kiss fueled by desperation.

Not a goodbye kiss.

But a beginning.

A slow, burning beginning.

Just the way it was always meant to be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Rin is kinda ooc here.. I don't actually know if he likes hot chocolate or not, but lets just say he likes it for this oneshot heheh. Thank you sm for reading!! Feel free to request more :))

(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[wol-fica]

-𝕎𝕠𝕖 𝕀𝕤 𝕄𝕖?- ℙ𝕋5

pairings - wenclair x daughter!reader

summary - it’s christmas break at the addams mansion, what could possibly go wrong?

warnings - none

an - hi hello yes, this story progresses :D

—————————————————————————

You groaned, resting your head on the cool hardwood floor.

It was Christmas break, and you and Luka have come home from Nevermore to spend time with your family. Unfortunately, there were more relatives staying at your grandparents mansion than you would’ve liked, and you were struggling to interact and be at least somewhat social with all of them.

All twelve of your cousins were there, running among the halls and causing so much ruckus that even Leo was exhausted. Uncle Pugsly was doing such a poor job of keeping them under wraps hat he instead gave up and chose to relax with your other uncle, Pubert, who was really only there for the expensive food your grandmother ended up cooking.

Your great grandmother was also there, cackling and joking around with your great uncle Fester while your parents sat nearby, chatting while keeping a close eye on Leo while he juggled his knife collection. You and Louis were playing chess, and each game you beat him, but he refused to stop until he won at least one round.

“Louis, you’ve lost basically every game, there is no point in trying to beat her again.” Leo said from across the room, hissing when he dropped one of his knives.

“I hate leaving a duel defeated.” He pouted while you packed up the board, “It’s a sign of weakness.”

“Maybe you should train harder, all you do is sleep anyway.” Leo quipped back, snickering.

You smirked slightly, turning your head away to hide your smile while your mother scolded Leo for being rude. After sliding the packed up board onto the shelf it belonged on, you moved to the couch where your jacket was folded up. Enid reached out to you, managing to brush her knuckles against your skin.

“Hmm you’re cold.” She murmured, frowning, “Are you sure you wanna go out with Luka today?”

You nodded, wiggling away from her touch to stand up, “I’ll be fine, he wants quality time anyways.”

In all honesty, you were the one who wanted ‘quality time’ with your brother, but you were never going to tell that to anyone. Luka was the only person that you could admit to that you admired and enjoyed being around him. As annoying as he was, you still loved him for being your brother, and you would tolerate his behavior until the day you die.

“Take some gloves with you, as much as I love frostbite I would much rather you keep all of your digits.” Wednesday said, sipping her cup of coffee, “And don’t go past the front line.”

“I know the rules mom.” You grumbled, zipping up your jacket before grabbing your gloves and moving to the front door, “We won’t go far.”

“Be safe!” Enid called, smiling at you with a wave.

You feebly waved back before exiting the house and hurrying down the path to Luka. He was at the tree line, building a little snowman to pass the time. It had a top hat, probably stolen from your grandfather, and an eye piercing rainbow scarf he definitely was previously wearing. As you approached, he turned to look up, his face brightening at the sight of you.

“Hey Y/N/N!” He called, beckoning you over, “Meet Gerald, Sir Snowman The 33rd.”

“Regal.” You deadpanned.

“He’s such a cutie.” Luka said, smiling at it with shining eyes.

“I cannot wait until he melts.”

“Y/N!”

You shrugged with a grin, walking past him towards the path in the woods. He pouted at Gerald for a moment before following you, jogging to catch up to your pace. The two of you ventured down the trail, footprints left as you strolled further into the forest.

The snow crunched under your feet while you walked, the crisp air leaving the tips of your ears a subtle pink. The scarf wrapped around your neck did its job keeping your body warmer, but it left your nose to fend for itself in the cold wind. You didn’t mind though, as the sharp wind hitting your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spin.

Soon, a large opening between the trees appeared, shiny and pale ice coming into the view. The lake had frozen over for the winter, and for years before, you and Luka would venture out into the middle to see if the ice was thick enough to hold you.

There had only been one year that the ice wasn’t solid enough, and Luka had almost fallen in.

Almost.

Makes you love the thrill even more.

“Looks nice this time.” Luka said, peering across the flat surface, “And walkable.”

“We shall never know until we try.” You replied, picking up a palm sized rock.

You weighed it in your hand for a moment, before throwing it up and out onto the lake. It hit the ice, but didn’t break through, instead rolling around before stopping a few feet in front of you.

“Suitable.” You noted, before stepping out onto the slippery surface.

“WEEEEE!” Luka cheered, running out and sliding on his feet.

You huffed, fighting back a laugh when he stumbled and fell back on his butt, instead rolling your eyes at him as you carefully made your way towards the middle.

“You’re insane.” You told him, snorting when he fell after trying to stand, “And incredibly clumsy, do you need a walking stick?”

“Honestly yeah.”

You hummed, walking past him and heading towards the center of the lake. He scrambled up, wobbly on his feet, and carefully followed you. It was a tradition between you and him that you both take a knife to the ice to see if it will crack. If it does, it means the year will be bad, if it doesn’t, it means the year will be wonderful.

Once you reached the middle, you pulled your pocket knife out, flipping it open and handing it to Luka. He grinned, taking it and kneeling down on the cold surface. He raised the knife above his head, and plunged it into the ice. The blade pierced through, and a loud crack echoed across the lake.

“Hm.” You said, taking a few steps back, “Didn’t break.”

“Yes!!” Luka cheered, standing up and jumping up and down, “I knew it would be a good-.”

Before you could tell him to not jump on the cracked ice, the stability broke and he fell right through. The water enveloped him, and the large pieces of ice hid where he sunk into the murky water.

Maybe it was a good time to mention that Luka can’t swim.

“Luka!” You yelled, peering down to see if you could spot him.

The water was still, not a sound to be made, until a pounding from a couple feet over caught your attention. It was your brother, hitting his fist against the ice in an attempt to get out. You ran over, bringing your fist down to try to break the ice as well, but you weren’t strong enough.

You looked down helplessly as his pounding slowed down, air bubbles escaping his throat as he panicked. Fear overcame you, and before you could even register what was happening, a large spout of fire burst from your hand and onto the ice. It cracked and melted, swiftly dissipating into water right before your awestruck eyes.

You stuck your hand into the water, reaching around until Luka’s grasped yours. You heaved him up and out of the cold lake, both of you stumbling backwards from the large hole in the ice. You laid on your back in shock, gasping for air while Luka retched and coughed, water spewing out of his mouth. He rolled over and dry heaved, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his adrenaline died down.

“Dammit.” He breathed, resting his forehead against his arm.

You extended your hand over to him, grasping his when he reached for you, “Never jump on cracked ice again.”

He chuckled, shaking his head feebly. You both laid there for a few minutes, trying to calm down enough to return home safely. You finally felt the strength to sit up, waiting patiently for Luka to regain his composure. You turned to him, expecting him to be shaking off the water in his hair with a smile on his face, but instead he was just sitting and staring at you blankly.

“What.” You asked bluntly, “If it's about the fire I-.”

He shook his head rapidly, fear filling his eyes, and raised a shaking hand to point behind you. You turned slowly, a chill running down your spin when you realized what he was so bothered by. There, a few steps out from the treeline, was a large figure watching you quietly. It was pulsing, a rhythmic manner that mirrored breathing as its back rose and fell. You squinted, not sure what you were looking at, before it began to rush towards you.

Its shape was contorted uncomfortably, its spine hunched over like it had been broken and healed improperly multiple times. Grey skin stretched over its lanky bones, wrapped around its ribcage like a vacuum sealed plastic bag. Pale scars were scattered about its body, almost mimicking that of an inverted Zebra, with large eyes protruding from its head, bulging and bloodshot; you swore you could see physical hunger swirling around in its iris’. It moved like a deformed gorilla, its back legs short and stubby while its front arms were long and muscly, with long claws digging into the ice with every step it took. Its mouth foamed, drool and slobber drenching its maw as it approached.

It was beautifully horrible.

“Run.” Luka whispered, slowly standing.

“What is that…?” You wondered curiously, almost leaning in its direction, “It looks…”

“Y/N, RUN!!”

Luka grabbed at your jacket, yanking you up to your feet and pulling you away from the approaching monster. You both fell into a sprint, clumsily stumbling every few steps but nonetheless running. Luka was farther ahead of you, naturally being a faster runner due to his werewolf genes, but you were still with him. The creature roared behind you, its thunderous steps echoing across the lake as it began to gain on you.

Your feet hit the frosted grass, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you scampered up the hill to get back to the house. Trees blurred past you as you both ran for your lives, and you almost felt your heart stop when you heard a low growl so close to you. The sound of Luka panting next to you pushed you a little harder, a small feeling of relief hitting you when you saw the large mansion come into view, but just before you could relish in your near escape, you were yanked sideways.

White hot pain shot through your shoulder and back, the air being pushed out of your lungs when you came in contact with the tree you were thrown against. Over the loud ringing in your ears,, you could dimly hear Luka shouting and the monster roaring, but the world seemed to spin as you tried to stand on your wobbly legs. A large blurry figure stalked towards you, its large claw rising high to be brought down upon your face, but just as it was swinging to attack and you closed your eyes, everything stopped.

No scream.

No roar.

No crunch of bones.

No splatter of blood on the leaves.

Not even the tiny whispers that plague you.

Nothing.

You feebly peeled your eyes open, looking around in confusion to see that there was no monster to be seen. The forest was the same, clustered with snow covered trees and your grandparents' massively gothic mansion a few yards away, but that was it. Luka was gone, the creature was gone, it was just you and the cold.

Peaceful.

If this was death, you were not a fan.

“Y/N”

You whipped around, scoffing when faced with the body of the voice that just spoke your name.

“You.” You grumbled.

“Me.” She replied.

“Where is Luka?” You asked firmly, glancing around for a moment, “Am I dead?”

“Luka is fine, and no, you're not dead..” Goody replied, eying you up and down.

“Then where am I?” You demanded, still expecting the monster to appear out of the trees and tear you to bits.

Goody didn't reply, and you turned to see her brushing little snowflakes off of her shoulders. You saw red, picking up a pinecone and chucking it at her. The fruit passed right through her incorporeal form, landing somewhere behind her. She frowned, looking up at you with a bothered gaze.

“Excuse me, your ghostly-ness.” You seethed, “I'd like to know where the hell I am.”

“Don’t use such repugnant language with me.” She conned, “I am here to guide you.”

“Well then GUIDE me to the exit, please and thank you.”

“I have to speak with you.”

“Jesus!” You threw your hands in the air, turning away from her and kicking a rock in frustration.

Of all times that she could have chosen to have a conversation with you, of course she has to decide that right now, the time that you very well could be mauled and eaten, is the perfect moment.

“This is the first time I have had the chance to talk to you.” Goody asserted, walking around until she was in front of you, “We have things to discuss.”

“I very well could be decapitated and dismembered right now,” You drawled, rubbing your hands against your face, “yet you think this is a good time to have a discussion with you?”

“Yes.”

“Some guidance you are.”

Suddenly, you were pushed backwards by a heavy gust of wind, causing you to fall on your behind. Goody stood over you, her book open and her finger pointed at you. You gasped, shaking the pine needles off of you and standing up.

“Did you just spellbook me?” You snarled, glaring at her.

“I just ‘spellbooked’ you.” She replied, her tome closing with a soft hiss.

“I swear to god I will gut y-.”

She waved her hand at you, a short puff of air hitting your face that smelled oddly like hotdogs. A faint whisper came from her, something you could not pick up over the harsh wind, and you felt your lips seal shut.

“Mmm!” You tried to speak unsuccessfully, your words coming out muffled instead.

“Your lips have been locked with a small silencing spell, it will wear off in a few minutes.” Goody said, “Now, vide tuum futurum.”

The air started to thicken around you, almost like a weighted blanket being draped over our head. Images started to appear in the fog, flickering and shining like a projector screen whilst shapes began to form. Teeth bloody and sharp, a low growl exuding from a beast's throat. A familiar howl was heard, a full moon appearing in the air. People shouted from afar, pitchforks and torches stabbing through the glowing orb with an eerie scream.

“This is your future.” Goody murmured, gesturing to the fog, “This is what I’ve been trying to warn you about.”

You turned to her with a glare, stamping your foot while you gave a grunt. She sighed, taking her pointer and middle fingers to your lips. “Loqui.” She whispered, a faint warmth exuding from the tips of her fingers, and you felt your lips unseal.

“These things, the images, will inevitably happen. You must prepare.”

You eyed her spell book, the very same that you currently had under your pillow back at your dorm in nevermore. You knew of the spells that are inked on the pages, ranging with ones of fire casting to full body possession. You couldn’t use any of the incantations in fear of messing something up that you couldn't fix, yet you yearned to speak the latin phrases out of pure curiosity of what you could do.

“Preparing, how would…should...I prepare?” You asked carefully, licking your dry lips.

“However you deem necessary.” Goody mused, “I cannot decide your decisions, it would rewrite the outcome.”

You squinted at her, “The outcome? What’s the outcome?”

Her body started to fade, her skin going paler than what it already was. Specs of her began to float away in the wind, and oddly enough, the forest around you started to melt away into darkness.

“Prepare.” Goody echoed, now almost transparent, “Use the book.”

“Goody you useless piece of sh-.”

And then everything was gone.

—————————————————————————

spookyyyyyy

taglist: @cartierdreamx @tundra1029 @red1culous @vorsdany @andsoigotabutterfly @theafterofnevermore @yomomisgay @house-of-lovin @slvt4lanadelrey @thenextdawn @nepobaby08 @dunohilly @somekindofpoet @alexkolax @cinffy23 @pedrosprincess @amberfreemansburntface @myfturn

not sure if any of you still read lol

if you’re interested in the taglist, just comment !

[radioactive-mouse]

I get how tempting it is to just label flower husbands as “toxic” and move on, but god they can be SO much more nuanced than that, it makes me insane.

I think something that goes largely unexplored by the fanbase is c!scott’s obsession with composure. he’s clearly very proud of his ability to stay calm under pressure and be two steps ahead of everyone else— not that he’s afraid to rely on people, him and cleo very clearly have that unshakable trust between them, but i think that sometimes he gets so wrapped up in being steady, reliable scott, never hot-headed, never spiteful, or clumsy, or nervous.

and jimmy is a very real threat to that composure, more often than not.

and i think the way their relationship functions in 3rd life, while steady at the time, definitely set them up for complications down the road. scott, for as fiercely dedicated to his allies as he is, kind of tends to handle jimmy with kid gloves for the earlier parts of their relationship. he’s not very good at the death game, but that’s fine, he doesn’t need to be, scott will take care of it— he’ll get them set up with armor and potions and walls and jimmy can do… whatever it is he does when scott’s not around. mostly getting swindled, if he had to guess. but it’s fine, because scott can be steady, level headed, clever—

i do think most of scott’s ribbing about how he doesn’t know why he lets jimmy do anything when all he does is get scammed half the time is genuinely all in good fun, (jimmy is more than happy to play the fool most of the time, if only to bring a little bit of levity to things) it is super symptomatic of the way scott actually thinks about him. i don’t believe he thinks jimmy is actually stupid or anything, but i do think scott doesn’t quite trust him to get anything done. scott would never in a million years let himself lean on jimmy for any kind of support, because in scott’s mind jimmy’s job is to be bright and brash and only listen to that heart of his that’s too big for his body, too big for this game.

and i think too often we forget just how much losing jimmy destroyed scott in 3rd life. you ever think about how wrecked he must’ve been to place 10th despite being a consistent finalist in every other season? do you think about how all he has left is the burning, white-hot urge for revenge from the second jimmy’s body hit the ground?

i don’t think scott ever wants to feel like that again. i don’t think scott wants anyone to see him like that again. i think scott tries very hard to love jimmy from a safe distance where no one gets hurt. and i think that distance fucking kills jimmy, metaphorically speaking.

(also, tangentially related, i think there’s something to be said for how instantly tango goes “we only have a short time together, your curse will probably get us killed, and that’s fine.” and how jealous scott gets of that sentiment. as far as scott is concerned, tango and jimmy are of the same niche— they feel everything, loudly, even if it causes problems and even if it gets messy. and god that just makes his blood boil.)

i’m just so… entranced with the way scott carries himself with so much confidence and it’s not like he’s insecure, he really believes that, he’s a strong player and he knows that, but also revealing any emotion he deems to be “ugly” or “messy” makes him start to completely unravel. the driving force behind him is always love and loyalty and protectiveness over the people he cares about, but he’s juggling that with being dead set on never getting so close that losing them will completely ruin him.

anyway, this is getting away from me, but i think a lot of jimmy’s frustration with scott comes from the fact that he refuses to let their relationship go both ways, and i think by the time of the infamous “say i love you back” scene in limlife he’s just exhausted with throwing himself repeatedly against scott’s brick wall of perfectionism. that, and the whole Situation between them in double life, which i could honestly make it’s own post but good god i need to STOP typing or this will go on forever. forgive my completely disorganized ramblings i just have been trying to get all this down on paper FOREVER

[karlachismylife]

Yeah, but what if you're a character in a game they like to play? A pre-existing townie in a life simulator that helps them reconnect with normal life outside deployment? The one they somehow always tend to romance in every savefile, courting you through the clumsy mechanics?

Soap would absolutely spam interactions, interrupting any of the tasks you are trying to do. What do you mean your relatonship progress starts going down after he chose "tell a flirty joke" twenty times in a row? Why are you falling out of the conversation and going to water your plants or play on the computer? Does he have to delete it out of the game for you to stop getting distracted? Hmph. If you were a real person, you would be already swooning at his jokes, that he knows for sure. C'mon, bonnie, don't leave the lot for work! If you accept his proposition to move in, you'll never need to work a day in your pixel life! He also has a fuckton of savefiles, because he wants to try every single thing the game has to offer, but turns out mastering all 158 skills and 73 careers isn't that easy in one go. He still goes after you in each and every savefile. What can he say? You're just the prettiest of them all.

Gaz has the strategy nailed down. He knows your pre-set preferences and makes sure his character caters to them (good thing you seem to be generally into him, all he needs to do is add your favourite colour to his outfit, and it suits hm too!), he can calculate the shortest route to have a romantic meter above your head in one conversation. Juggling the interactions with ease, never making the mistake to bore or upset you. He knows you'll have the best family tree in that game, and he'll make it happen. Also has quite a few savefiles, but only because he enjoys the storytelling aspect and always prepares some elaborate plot, filled with drama. Takes inspiration from the hundreds of episodes of different TV shows he manages to watch, also plays with mods to add as much flavour to the game as possible.

Price tries to court you like he would a real person. Inviting your character out, putting a lot of thought into which conversation theme choose out of what game offers, bringing you gifts. Unfortunately for him, the game isn't registering his actions as actually trying to woo you... so he just takes the gloves off and fucking cheats your relationship status. His in-game self needs a pretty partner to look after the pack of three dogs, named Ghost, Gaz and Soap respectively. He's not above cheating your babies (whether your character carries them or it's the science baby option) to be triplets. Only starts new savefiles when you both grow old and pass away in the previous one, maybe because he can't bring himself to live out your kids' lives (they should be their own little virtual people and decide for themselves), or maybe because he doesn't understand that he actually can keep playing even if his character's dead.

Ghost starts with adding himself to your family and setting your relationship status as spouses. Oh, you have some in-game pathetic weird looking prick as your pre-set partner/husband? Too bad, evicted, deleted from the game, forgotten. If he is in the mood, he won't straight up delete that poor bloke, but will set up a pool with no ladder and drown him in it or lock him in a separate room to starve. Nothing you should see, though, you'll be plenty busy drowning yourself, not in a pool, but in his affection. Doesn't spam interactions, but really enjoys just watching you go about your day and making it so that his character takes care of your needs - if you start to get hungry, he's already slamming the "call to meal" button on the giant ribs plate his in-game self just roasted. Probably has one savefile where he keeps cheating any death back.

Or are you a cute tamagochi pocket friend/pet they enjoy taking care of, because having a real pet is impossible with their lifestyle? An NPC with an everyday quest of collecting produce in a chill farm simulator? A weekly boss they lose fight to as much times as they can afford to, just to see your opening cutscene replay over and over? A companion whose personal quest they have memorized line by line, but never skip dialogue to hear your voice and look at every expression you make?

Whoever you are, what if one day something in your code changes and you suddenly start recognizing them?

[serveandchoke]

Lights out!

jannik sinner x f1 alpine driver!reader

summary: you are the only female driver in the grid. on race day, you happen to cross paths with a certain red headed tennis player.

a/n: my first fic! english isn't my first language so apologies in advance if i made any errors. also, i tried my best to be non-f1 fan friendly haha

The paddock buzzes with race day tension. Mechanics rush past with tires stacked shoulder-high, engineers juggle data on tablets, and camera crews swarm like bees. The scent of gasoline and espresso clings to the air, warm with late-summer Italian sun. You barely notice the commotion anymore.

You're used to the glances. The stares. You're the only woman on the grid, the first in years. They don’t mean harm, most of them, but the weight of proving yourself has never really gone away. It’s carved into your pre-race rituals. The cold splash of water on your face, the mental visualization, the deep breath before pulling your race suit over your fireproofs.

“Y/N,” your race engineer’s voice crackles in your earpiece, breaking your focus. “Garage in ten. We’re running checks on the floor. Your left side looked off in FP3.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, and turn toward the Alpine hospitality suite to grab your bottle and gloves. That’s when you catch a flicker of ginger hair and sunglasses across the walkway. Someone tall, lean, relaxed in a way no one else is right now. Not a driver.

It’s Jannik Sinner.

You’ve seen his face before on TV, sports magazines, that tennis documentary Netflix pushed on you mid-flight. You don’t follow tennis religiously, but you know him. Italian golden boy. Calm. Sharp. Unapologetically good. And apparently, a massive Formula 1 fan. You’ve heard he’s been to a few races before, he even met some of the boys from Red Bull last year.

Right now, he’s talking to Oscar Piastri, who’s leaned casually against the McLaren garage wall, helmet tucked under one arm. They’re laughing about something, Jannik’s hand briefly clapping Oscar on the shoulder.

You march over, not because of Jannik, but because Oscar still owes you answers about that mess in qualifying yesterday.

You stop just in front of them, planting your hands on your hips. “Piastri,” you say, not looking at Jannik. “You got a minute?”

Oscar gives you that signature dry smirk. “Didn’t expect the Alpine missile this early.”

You roll your eyes. “You blocked me in sector two. Again.”

Before Oscar can respond with something cheeky, Jannik clears his throat lightly. “You’re Y/N, right?”

You finally meet his eyes. Your throat goes dry, and you don't know why.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “You’re the tennis guy.”

He laughs softly, polite. “That’s one way to put it. I’ve seen you race. Big fan.”

There’s no condescension in his tone. No posturing. Just a simple truth. For some reason, it disarms you more than any media-trained compliment ever has.

Oscar glances between you two, eyes narrowing. “Oh, great. Now you’ve got Sinner rooting for Alpine.”

“Just this once,” Jannik says, grinning. “You two were brilliant in Spa. That overtake into Eau Rouge…”

He trails off, mimicking your steering motion with his hands.

You arch a brow, an amused smile playing on your lips. “Didn’t think tennis players watched F1 that closely.”

“Oh, I grew up watching. Used to pretend I was Alonso when I was a kid. Built my own track with soda cans in the backyard.” He chuckles, then pauses, shifting slightly. “You’ve got a shot today, right?”

You shrug. “If I survive Turn 1.”

“I’ll be watching,” he says, his voice a little quieter now.

Oscar nudges him. “She’s the real deal, mate. Don’t blink or you’ll miss her on the straight.”

You nod toward the garages. “I need to check in before the formation lap. But thanks for watching.”

You don’t say “nice to meet you.” You don’t shake his hand. The moment is small but electric, like the seconds before lights out. You only nod amd smile at him in appreciation before turning your back.

And as you walk away, you feel his eyes still on you.

———

Your heart is pounding so loud you can feel it in your neck.

Last lap.

The engine screams in your ears, and sweat drips down your temple beneath the helmet. You’re gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles are white. Your engineer’s voice crackles into your headset, calm but sharp.

“Last lap. You’re still holding second. Verstappen's only half a second ahead. You’ve got this.”

"Copy." You murmur.

The crowd is a blur; flags, flares, noise, just streaks of color around the circuit. You shift your focus back to the car ahead. Slipstreaming. Right behind. Just one chance.

You take a deep breath and throw the car down the inside at Turn 1. It’s risky. Brave. Clean.

You pull ahead, and before you know it, you're leading the race.

Your engineer screams in your ear: “Yes! You’re leading! Bring it home!”

You fly through the final few corners, barely blinking, barely breathing. This is what you trained for. This is everything.

As you come out of the final bend, the straight opens up before you—and then, just ahead, a figure waves the black and white checkered flag, signaling the race is over.

It’s Jannik.

He’s standing tall on the stand, waving the flag with a wide grin, hair a little messy from the wind, sunglasses forgotten in his hand. You don’t even know if he sees your car or recognizes that it’s you, but the moment feels electric.

You cross the finish line.

Winner.

You scream into the helmet. "LET'S GO! P1 BABY!" You roar in happiness, in disbelief.

“GREAT PACE! YOU DID IT!” your engineer roars. “P1! That’s a win! Take a slow lap, bring it in. You were unbelievable!”

The victory lap is a blur. Fans are on their feet. Your crew leans over the fences, cheering. You give a wave, still breathless. You can't stop cheering through the radio, turning the car into parc fermé.

By the time you pull into parc fermé, the spot where the top cars park post-race, you barely register the noise around you. You turn the engine off. The world goes quiet.

You climb onto your car, standing tall, fists pumping in the air. The crowd roars in response. You don’t take the helmet off yet. You just let the noise soak in, hands over your head. You jump off of the car, and head straight for your team. The noise is deafening, their happy cheers and chants as they celebrate this legendary win.

You did it.

———

Later, after the national anthem, after the champagne is sprayed and your race suit is soaked and sticky with victory and celebration, you make your way down the steps of the podium. You run your fingers through your hair. Hair stuck to your forehead, and wipe the sweat away with the back of your glove.

Jannik is waiting just off to the side, now wearing a pass around his neck and a smile that’s hard to miss.

“That was insane,” he says. “Seriously. I’ve watched a lot of races, but that finish-”

“You saw it?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“I waved the flag, remember? I had the best seat in the house.”

You chuckle, looking up at him. “You looked good up there.”

He gives you a modest shrug, but the blush on his cheeks betrays him. “I didn’t think you’d notice. You were kind of busy winning a race.”

You let the smile linger before tipping your head slightly.

“You coming to the afterparty?”

His brows lift slightly, as if surprised. “I didn’t think I was invited.”

You glance at him sideways, playful. “Well, consider this your invitation.”

There’s a beat. A pause in the chaos, the media, the photographers yelling for one last shot, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, sweaty and sunlit and still riding the high of the day.

He smiles and his eyes crinkle and you think you just might faint.

“Then I guess I’ll see you there.”

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[Minor Violence, Non-consensual Choking]

[5.4k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 2 "The Proposition"

You wanted to say something desperately, but your mouth came dry and empty and you promptly closed it to avoid any stray specs of sand. Your neck ached from having to keep it so profoundly craned just to hold eye contact and avoid the gun from pressing against your Adam’s apple.

His boots sunk in the dune as he juggled his weight tantalizingly, prowling in front of you and looking like he was ready to pounce. He was staring at you like you weren’t even human and it made sense because he didn’t look like one. The sun scratched at your exposed shoulders and upper back, hair pooled over your face and breasts and no longer acting as a shield for your delicate skin. It hurt, it burned, your flesh felt like it was cooking on a barbeque rack, but there was nothing you could do except take it like a champ and worry about it later.

This was not how you imagined the world above to be… You never thought you’d be attacked by giant roaches or chased by deranged criminals smelling of shameless cannibalism or held at gunpoint by the man…thing, that saved your life. You never imagined it was this bad up here, so desolate and askew, everything was old, rusted, worn, and crumbling and you had half the mind to just go back and let the raiders kill you and make their threats a reality of making you into human jerky.

The gun tapping incessantly against your cheek failed to pull you out of the depths of your spinning thoughts. But when it was forcibly pressed against the center of your forehead, nearly knocking you back on your arse, you stiffened with a gasp.

Your hero was becoming impatient.

“Never seen a ghoul before, Darlin’?” he asks with somewhat of a frown, his agitation brewing with your silent treatment and mindblown stare. He pranced around you, circling your kneeling, hunched-over form as you tried following his movements with doubtful eyes and a racing heart. “You been livin’ under a fucking rock?”

His gun was cocked and ready to fire, a steady forefinger resting over the trigger in case you decided to be stupid and try to run or lunge at him. He scoffed at the idea but kept his guard up just in case. After so many years of roaming, he’d seen just about everything, he wasn’t risking it no matter how defenseless you appeared at first glance.

“N-No…No, Sir. Never seen a…ghoul. Before.” you forced the words out, fearing his wrath, and clung to your sides as your hands kneaded through the soft material of your dress. Your head lowered obediently, lashes shielding your darting irises as they read his every movement. “A rock? No, I – “

It took him a single spin to notice the Pip-boy slapped over your wrist and his eyes hardened. He stopped by your side, towering over you, and ripped your arm away, clutching it in his hand with a roughness you’d never experienced before. You winced as he leaned over to inspect the device and grimaced with a twitching upper lip.

“ – A vault dweller…” he spat and his gloved fingers dug into your flesh. He ignored your whiney noise of protest, jostling you into silence before shooting a flesh-searing glare right into your soul. “You a vaulty?”

“What? I – No! Yes. Wait – ” you stammered when he dug a knee into the sand and let your arm go before gathering a handful of hair on the back of your head and forcing your neck back to make you look at him. He was…menacing, practically bolting you to the ground with a single glare. “Wait! Please, wait. Please! I – ” your hands shot up to grip his wrist, trembling and useless as you pleaded. He dug the gun under your chin, preventing you from swallowing. “Please, I did. I lived in a vault, but I don’t know anything! Please, please, I promise. Don’t – “ your eyes frantically shot down at where the barrel sunk into your skin, teeth chattering as your lashes heavied with tears.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?!” he snarled, leaning so close that if he had a nose it would have bumped into yours. His breath stank of spirit and you tried to recoil but were promptly jerked back into place.

It didn’t click in your brain what had upset him so. The vaults were created to preserve humanity and its antics from before the bombs, it was for the betterment of the future. It was so that his children could eventually live better lives after you finally left the sanctuary of the underground and restored order to the surface, or so you’ve read. It made no sense for him to hate you based on a stupid Pip-boy that wasn’t even yours, you’d done nothing to him, you didn’t even know him! How could he be so nonchalantly cruel? How could he touch you without your consent? What gave him the right!?

The firearm digging into your flesh told you what.

“I was sick!” you wail, fighting back your tears and a pitiful stutter from poisoning your reply. His grip on your hair tightened and you twitched in pain, shaking like a leaf beneath him and clutching at his wrist in a silent plea to let you go. “I was isolated. I didn’t know anyone but my mom and dad, I didn’t do anything. I don’t know!” you debated for your life, prolonging his spine-chilling intentions. Bargaining with the devil was a difficult task when your body and mind worked against you, all blabbering words and choppy thoughts and jittery limbs. “The vault was taken over and I ran and I don’t know anything about the people and I just – Please…My parents are dead…Please, Mister, please don’t shoot…” you beg through sobs and a sniffling nose, tugging at his iron grip to no avail.

With a grunt and a flexing jaw, he threw you back, treating you with disregard equal to tossing out a piece of garbage, releasing you to curl up protectively over yourself, and standing. His gun clicked and he secured it back in the holster on his hip.

You instinctively rub at the tender area on the back of your head with a dissatisfied plaint, locking your thighs to obscure your exposed privates. Propped up on one hand and with a shaken look, you watched him spit and turn, his expression solid and distasteful and beating down on you for no reason that you could comprehend. Your breaths begin to event out and you swallow with a shuddering hum.

He turned away, drawing distance between you with stiff steps, fighting his resolve as his hand itched to draw his weapon and just shoot you on the spot.

But he couldn’t…

You weren’t worth the bullet, he repeated that bitter sentence under his breath to convince himself that he hesitated and withdrew simply because you were a waste of ammunition. It wasn’t your doe-eyed stare and too-soft-for-this-world skin that felt like silk when your tiny fingers had lingered under the edge of his sleeve. It wasn’t your delicate, shiny hair that looked like it would tear under his hold or the thick, heavy lashes that framed your eyes and held your tears that shone like diamonds in the sunlight. It definitely wasn’t that tiny dress that hugged your little frame and would make any goon go rabid from just a glance. You were no wastelander, didn’t look like any vault dweller who had crossed his path, you were too soft even for the life before the bombs. He didn’t know what you were, but you weren’t worth the cogitation.

You weren’t worth the bullet. You weren’t worth anything. You were nothing.

You were –

“ – Wait!” you hurry to rise and stumble after him. Despite his demeanor, he was the only thing that hadn’t tried to kill you on sight, and without anything or anyone else around, you had mentally latched onto him as your hero. “Mister, wait! You can’t just – “

He raised his weapon and pointed it at you faster than you could blink. Your hands shot up to shield your face and you shrunk in submission, rapidly blinking and with a hesitant look.

“Come closer.” he barks and cocks his gun, arm extended and eerily steady. “See what happens.”

“I – You can’t just leave me here!“ you protest, mustering what confidence you could, scraping at the bottom of a barrel that was emptied the moment you had set foot outside the vault. You straighten when no bullets come and your palms curl into fists, stomping a foot for emphasis. “That’s not right. You can’t just ditch me.”

“Watch me, Princess.” he chuckled, sneered, and bared his yellowish teeth at you like a dog. He gestured with the gun in dismissal and rested his free hand on his hip after flinging his coat back. “Now get!”

“I don’t know where to get.” you whine and curl your fingers in air quotes in a brash display, pushing your luck and mocking his conceit because you were so desperate you took your chances. “I don’t even know where I am!”

He just snorts at you, unbothered and uncaring, and proceeds on his way with a flick of his wrist, refusing to entertain your tantrum any longer.

You didn’t understand how someone could turn down a person in need, it made no sense, the lack of compassion was incomprehensible and so…inhuman. How could a man be this purposefully ignorant of another’s struggle and choose not to do anything? You could never turn down a cry for help, not that you’d ever been faced with such a situation before, but you knew you wouldn’t. So what had this ghoul lived through to be so detached and devoid of sympathy? How much had he been hurt to abandon emotion entirely for the sake of a still mind and dreamless sleep?

What kind of world forced a man to abandon his humanity…

Fueled by frustration, you take a few steps after him, so hellbent on keeping the spotless image of your hero you had forced upon his shoulders that your rationality couldn’t break through your naivety. He couldn’t be this cruel after saving your life and not even bringing up the possibility of a reward. He had to have a soft spot somewhere, beneath the rags and the ruggedness and the hissy threats and brutish actions. He was still a person just like you even if the harshness of the surface had disfigured both his body and soul, you believed in him, you had to for your own preservation.

He heard you move, heard the rustling of fabric and the shuffling of sand, and snapped with a cornered animal.

“Oh I’ve had about enough of you!” he snarled and whirled around, covering the distance between you with three long, menacing strides. Your startled scream was cut short when he squeezed your neck and forced you down on your back like your resistance against him didn’t even exist. He caged you beneath his tights, keeping you in place as you clawed at his stone-firm grip and gasped apologies and pleas through labored breaths. The gun knocked against the side of your forehead to stifle you into stilling. It clicked threateningly as he applied pressure to the trigger, sunken eyes staring down at you without any hesitation. “First rule of the wasteland, Sweetheart.” he grumbled through gritted teeth and a stiff jaw, tightening his chokehold until your eyes rolled back and you burst into a fit of coughs. “Don’t trust nobody.”

Your mind raced fervently, battling against the lack of oxygen and trying to search for anything in your memory that could guarantee you even a chance at surviving his unrelenting assault. A sliver of hope as unconsciousness splotched the edges of your vision with viscous darkness. Your ears screeched as blood thrashed around in your head and face, bulging and boiling, trapped and unable to reach the rest of your writhing body. Your feet kicked and thrashed without results and no matter how deep your nails sank in his leathery skin he didn’t so much as flinch. Spit dribbled from the corner of your gaping mouth, the threat of the gun completely discarded due to suffocation and your lungs screamed and burned with the scarce air.

And he just watched you struggle with a solemn visage and jagged features.

“Say something! ANYTHING! THINK OF SOMETHING!!!”

“Water!” you croak and it was nearly unintelligible, but he understood.

“What?” he hisses and his grip on your throat slacks enough for you to finally suck in a full breath.

You gulp greedily at the dry, scorching air, groaning in octaves so low you couldn’t recognize your own voice. Supposedly having your neck nearly crushed like a rotten pencil did that to one’s vocal cords. You relax beneath him and hold onto his forearm for support as if he hadn’t been the cause of your near-death experience. You cling to him like a lost child and not his victim and it utterly baffles him. He tried to find a glimmer of hatred or disgust, anything that would deter him enough to just shoot you and get this overextended fiasco to an end, anything that would let him pull the fucking trigger. There’s nothing though, just desperation and confusion and fright and you had placed him as the only barrier between yourself and the rest of the world and even when he watched the life drain from you as you fought for breath you still didn’t even glare at him. You were just too pure, undefiled by the cruelty of the world you’d set off to venture and a tiny, once-dead part of him boiled at the incessant thought of you falling into the hands of a less kind man. What if someone else had found you first…

“There’s a storage safehouse. It was made for emergencies.” you gasp and clear your throat, pushing past the need to gag and looking up at him because you were taught that holding eye contact was a good thing when speaking about something of grave importance. He softened above you and leaned away and you took that as your cue to continue. “Those people, the ugh…the bad guys can’t get to it. It’s hidden and you need a Pip-boy to unlock it.” you gulp audibly and wince at the soreness before licking at your chapped lips and wiping the drool off your cheek. “It’s full of food and water…and stimpaks and bandages and…whatever you wish. You can take all of it just – ” a wave of trembles racked through you and you tried to suppress a whimper, but couldn’t. “ – Please, just help me get to it…I just want to go home, Sir…”

“Thought you said you didn’t know anything, Princess? You tryna lie to me now?” his chin dipped as he cocked his head to the side. His voice was flat, and his cold demeanor breaching through your dress and nipping at your insides until you were littered with goosebumps despite being pinned down in a desert in the middle of the day.

“I don’t…I’ve never been there – I was an archive keeper. I know everything in theory I just never knew the people except my parents…But I can find my way to it just by memory, I know where it is I just need to walk around a bit and – ”

“ – Stop yappin’.” he scolded, cutting your rant short before tucking away his gun.

He took a moment to mull over your words, still keeping you locked beneath him while you laid there like a corpse and prayed wordlessly as anticipation punched at your churning stomach. He rubbed at his chin, tongue twisting in his mouth as if he were tasting your proposition. His eyes dipped down to your scrawny form, done skimming over the barren desert sea and deciding this didn’t need much more contemplation. You got to go home and get off his back, he got supplies for a good few weeks, and a handful of raiders would end up dead. Simple. Easy. He could do that.

“Done deal.”

You nearly cried out in joy at his words.

Then he finally stood and gripped your upper arm before roughly pulling you to your feet and you nearly faceplanted in his chest at the force. He laughs as you flounder and fight not to trip, the baritone of his voice sending you spiraling into a pit of embarrassment and abashment because he was the first person you had ever properly met and you were making a fool of yourself. There was a feint, innocent need prickling at your heart, you wished you could’ve impressed him, and made a good first impression, but that had been thrown out the window in its entirety the moment he’d pointed a gun at you.

Now you were torn between needing him close because he was your only source of comfort and wanting to slap him because he was such a rude and foul man. Who even pointed a weapon at an unarmed woman?

He did…the bastard.

“Shoulda just started with the storage, Missy.” he teases as if he’d not nearly killed you a few minutes ago, all lighthearted and smirking. He holds your arm until you’re stable enough to stand on your own and you’re grateful even if a bit abrasive. “Coulda saved us a whole lot of tusslin’.”

“I would have, sir, but you – “

“ – Sssst!” he susses you like one would a mischievous cat and your lips are sealed in an instant. Then he nudged his head forward and readjusted the collar of his coat after releasing you. “Walk.”

Deciding you’ve run your luck dry for the day, you let go of a snarky remark hanging on the tip of your tongue and do as instructed, trudging through the dunes as the familiar sting returns to the bare soles of your feet. Now, however, you had a nasty gash on your ankle to boot and it didn’t help that it was slowly getting covered by specs of sand that rubbed excruciatingly against your exposed flesh.

God damn those roaches, they were a menace when they were tiny! Now? You mouthed at the recollection.

You bite your tongue to keep from whining when the hurt becomes too unbearable, the rest of the time you were heaving with an open mouth as the idea of licking at your sweat for some sort of thirst relief grew. You’d not known thirst until today, it was worse than any needle or medical practice your father had used on you, you couldn’t even swallow properly, the motion happened automatically and you cringed at the stickiness of your dried-up throat.

It was too hot and you were woefully unprepared to deal with it or any of the other discomforts tugging your nerves thin. It bothered you how unphased he seemed by the harsh weather, one glance at him told you he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was covered from head to toe in heavy clothes and strode with confidence and ease as if he were taking a walk through a park. You shrug without realizing it, too sunken into your head. Maybe he doesn’t have sweat glands anymore.

The sun was finally moving, sinking to the west and casting dramatic shadows over the desert. As his shadow grew, you found sanctuary in it from the still-sizzling rays and sighed in relief. It was a tiny drop of comfort, but it was enough to ease some of your strain. The muscles in your thighs were numb from overexertion for the first time in your life and you dreaded the cramps you’d have to deal with later on. The skin on your feet was smooth as butter from the intense exfoliation of walking through sand for so long, that was an interesting little fact you’d never heard of before. Dead skin cells could be removed by rubbing coarse surfaces over the body. Dope.

Locking yourself in the sanctity of your head and isolating your surroundings, you were numb and blind to how your legs shook. It wasn’t until you collapsed and tasted brittle little specs on your tongue that you realized you were lying down.

The ghoul paused and turned to look at you over his shoulder with profane boredom.

“Didn’t tell you to stop, Princess.”

“Mm…My legs don’t work.” you state before even realizing the cruciality of that bit of information. Your eyes pop open and the exhausted expression vanishes in an instant, you prop up on your elbows and stare back at the limp limbs. Panic ensues, pumping through you like a drug as a dry sob punctures your chest. “My legs don’t…My legs!”

“What in the hell!”

He’s on you in an instant, bent over and pushing at your shoulder until you roll on your back, the spaces where his eyebrows should be are locked together and he shushes your cries with a curt noise, but you’re too stressed to acknowledge it. There are no more tears left, your nose can’t even fill with snot from dehydration, and you end up a mess of ragged sobs and loud wails as you paw at your legs to wake them up. You double over and clutch at your upset stomach with a shaky hand as your teeth grit in dread.

If he hadn’t left you behind yet, he would now…

And you couldn’t even debate him on it this time, you wouldn’t even be able to stalk him if he tried.

“I can’t move them…” you hiccup. You manage to wiggle your toes but lifting your foot or bending a knee just doesn’t register, instead, you get a few twitches from the spent muscles and nothing else. The worst scenario plagues your sanity and you look to the ghoul for guidance because there is no one else. “What if – ”

“ – Shut the hell up!” he scolds and shoots you a brief glare before averting his eyes down as he cups a large gloved palm in the junction of your knee before lifting your thigh in uncharacteristically gentle examination. His thumb dips in your supple flesh, rubbing in circles, searching for something to hint him in on what the issue was, the concentration evident on his distinct features. Your cries die down to whimpers as he juts a finger against your lips. “You – “ he sighs and after a handsy inspection of your other leg, covers his eyes with his hand and presses down on his eyelids as the urge to hold you in another chokehold resurfaces. “ – You’re just fucking tired, you smooth-skinned little – ” he huffs and halts the slew of curses less you start crying even harder.

You don’t have time to react when he grips your sides and lifts you in the air before tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of tatoes. You wretch when his shoulder digs into your stomach and cough it off with arms flailing. Shaky hands clutch at the back of his coat as he secures one arm around your bare thighs and begins walking as if he’s not carrying another full-grown adult.

“Throw up on me and I will fucking blow your head off.”

He understood your sheltered way of thinking, but this was fucking unheard of. A newborn probably had more stamina than you, more strength too if your display of power earlier while he had you pinned down was the brink of your ability. You were so fragile it was annoying, you wouldn’t last a day out here, would’ve ended up as radroach food if he hadn’t stepped in. You were scrawnier than most people he’d seen and he’d seen plenty, and those who were smaller were on the brink of death from starvation. Who the hell went out in the wasteland unarmed?!

You did…fucking idiot.

“Thank you.” you mumble and audibly exhale, despite his threat, closing your eyes at his scarce kindness and smiling through bitten-down lips to cease your sobbing. You tried ignoring the fact that your butt was a few inches away from his face or that his hat grazed against your side with every step he took. Such bashful thoughts had no right to take up space in your head, but then again, he was your first friend and just having him around shot bolts of excitement through you.

Sure, he was a bit…rough around the edges. But he had saved you and he was carrying you back home. And he was a surface dweller who’d probably never known the comforts of the vaults so you couldn’t hold him accountable for being aggressive. Well, you could, and technically should, but you knew better than to bite the hand that feeds you.

“Don’t thank me, Princess.” he snorts and pats your thigh in feign caringness. “You owe me supplies. I ain’t gonna let you cheat me outta that.”

“There’s a few of them, though…the criminals, I mean.” you mused over what to call them while chewing on your bottom lip, hanging off the shoulder of a ghoul in a thin sundress, carried through a desert, like it was just a normal day.

They had looked more like bandits, but what else were you supposed to label them as? The judgment system was a thing of the past, so what were these people considered now? Outlaws? You continue with a pang of concern, fearing for the safety of your rugged savior, too attached to the idea of companionship and just sick of seeing violence. You’d had enough for one day.

“Are you sure you can handle them? They didn’t seem very friendly.”

“First off, they’re called raiders. Everyone ‘round here’s a criminal now.” he laughed, tipping his head back and you feel the raspy chortle swell your chest.

You liked him happy, he was almost charming this way. Or maybe it was a “Rescue Romance” you were experiencing and the ghoul was just a crusty weird man who had saved you without considering what a pest you might turn out to be. You’d try to find that one psychology book and re-read it once you got back home just to make sure.

“Stop swooning!”

“Second, it’s my job. I’m a bounty hunter, Sweetheart. I kill people for a livin’.” he tilted his hollow nose to the side, addressing you properly as he spoke, and if you’d seen the gesture you would have appreciated it.

“Oh,…a bounty hunter? Like in the Old West then! I’ve read so much about that!” you squeak and perk up, wiggling in excitement as your face beams. Your calf twitched as some feeling returned to your limp legs and it only added to your brightened mood. Now you could actually feel the cool texture of his coat gliding against your skin.

You didn’t see his features grim or how his hat tipped to obscure sunken eyes and hide the brisk vulnerability swirling in them or the flash of regret, the pain, the little piece of humanity he didn’t even know he still had. His grip on your thigh tightened and you strayed to one side and glanced at the back of his head in question, expecting him to be more boastful about his job. Instead, he was mournfully silent and you feared you’d said something wrong, reopened an old would accidentally.

“Just like the Old West, yeah.” he nodded with a low grunt and you frowned. The words slip past his teeth with such dreadful familiarity that you can’t help the curiosity that would no doubt be your downfall one day. You press a tender palm between his shoulder blades, more for your sake rather than his, and pray he didn’t change his mind to drop you and leave.

You doubted books were a common luxury in this crumbling world, you also doubted the ghoul was a man of knowledge, he didn’t look like the type to read. Maybe there were still movie cassettes and TVs in good enough shape to be used and that’s how he learned of the old cowboy history. As slim as those possibilities were, they made more sense than him being alive before the apocalypse and still walking the earth in the present time. His distorted appearance didn’t give you any indicators of his age, so trying to guess was out of the question, but even then the war was over two hundred years ago. He couldn’t possibly…

Maybe you were simply overthinking, but the way he’d said it sounded like he’d lived through it and the longer you pondered over that the sharper your awareness became.

“How long do ghouls live, Mister?” you ask, uncertain of what he’d answer, but holding onto your speculations until he did.

“That the vault?” he shoots back, coming to a halt and straightening and completely sweeping away your inquiry.

It was a good enough answer and despite your gnawing curiosity, you decided not to press the matter further because you didn’t know how far his courtesy extended before he had his gun pressed to your temple again.

You hadn’t even noticed how much ground he’d covered with you slumped over him, everything around you looked the same and with fatigue fogging your lapse of time it wasn’t surprising. He was built for endurance or…mutated for it. What exactly was a ghoul, anyway?

You coil around him like a snake and he holds you secure as you clutch at his shoulder and turn until you can see what he sees.

The distinct metal of the vault door glinted in the dying sunlight, mostly concealed by debris and toppled over stone blocks.

Everything around you was bathed in warm hues of maroon and deep orange and for just a moment the world felt so peaceful. The sun had almost completely set, dipping behind golden dunes, the breeze hollered a deft, haunted tune and there was no noise besides you and the ghoul’s breaths. It was all so beautiful you wanted to cry, your eyes dampened as you soaked in the sight with a slack jaw. The magic of a sunset was so foreign it hadn’t even registered until you’d been made to look around instead of troubling yourself with the bounty hunter’s backstory.

How could something be so impossibly mesmerizing?

“Yeah…” you manage to answer, at a loss for words, yet still conscious of the question and your friend’s proven lack of patience. “Yeah, that’s it.”

He plops you down unceremonially without even asking you if your legs were back in order before grabbing your arm and dragging you along. You waddle after him like a duckling and clutch at his coat when your ankles intertwine and trip you in your stride. A startled noise escapes you, but you successfully manage to keep up with his hasty footing until he’s pulled you directly in front of the vault door, grumbling at your clumsy nature and lack of coordination. A few low curses are hung over your head but you don’t pay them any mind.

“Open it.” he demands and pushes you forward, then unclasps his gun and then another you hadn’t even noticed he had.

Whatever nonchalant demeanor you’d made him settle into was discarded for one so icy and sharp that you failed to understand how he just switched within a blink.

You straighten your dress with a huff, patting out the newly acquired wrinkles and trying to ignore the variety of stains. The Pip-boy is raised up as you maneuver around the plethora of menus.

The ghoul steps closer, stopping once he’s right behind you with a raised weapon and steady eyes glued to the entrance. The lid hisses and you recoil at the scratchy sound until you’re pressing back into him, he wraps an arm around you on instinct, then scowls and rips away as if burnt by a hot rod.

“Watch your step.” he hisses and points the guns at the entrance, treading cautiously, on high alert for any noise that echoes beyond the darkness. Once he’s glued to the vault door he beckons you with his hand and you quickly follow, feet pattering against the metallic floor until you’re closely pressed to his side and peeking from behind him.

It wasn’t scary when he was with you. You strangely didn’t fear the raiders lurking inside anymore, only worrying over the potential harm they might cause him. But he’d proven more than capable, you made yourself believe he’ll be just fine and so would you.

When nothing comes and he’s confident the threat lies further inside, he steps past the entrance.

“Stay behind me.” he makes a face at his statement, then glances back at you. “And don’t get in my way.”

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<<< Chapter 1

Chapter 3 >>>

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[misswynters]

Buddy, the snowman

featuring. s2 jayce x reader

a/n. i want everyone to picture s2 long haired jayce for this (my lil hispanic boy)

Piltover in winter was a different kind of magic. The city’s usual bustle slowed as the snow draped over rooftops, blanketed the cobbled streets, and softened the sharp edges of its mechanical marvels. The air was crisp, filled with the faint scent of pine, and for once, it seemed as if even the gears of progress paused to appreciate the quiet beauty of the holiday season.

You stood on the edge of the park, bundled in a thick coat, scarf, and gloves, waiting for Jayce. Who is always late, as usual. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you shifted your weight, your breath visible in the cold air. When he finally arrived, he was juggling a small box of cookies he’d picked up on the way, a thermos of hot cocoa, and his scarf, which he hadn’t managed to wrap around his neck yet.

“Sorry I’m late,” he called out, flashing you a sheepish grin. “I got held up by Mrs. Halloway. She wanted to tell me all about her snowflake shaped cookie cutters.”

You laughed, reaching out to grab the thermos before it slipped from his hands. “Let me guess, you were too polite to escape?”

“She cornered me at the shop,” he admitted, his breath clouding in the air as he finally wrestled the scarf into place. “But hey, I brought cookies!”

“Then all is forgiven,” you teased, linking your arm with his as you walked into the park.

The snow was untouched, sparkling under the late morning sun. Children’s laughter echoed from the far side of the park where a sledding hill was busy with activity. You and Jayce gravitated toward a quieter spot, where the snow lay pristine and the trees offered some shelter from the wind. “I can’t remember the last time I built a snowman,” you mused, surveying the scene.

“Then we’re fixing that today,” Jayce declared, already kneeling to scoop up a handful of snow. He packed it tightly, forming the beginnings of a snowball. “You start the bottom, I’ll handle the head.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You trust me with the foundation?”

“Of course. You’re the architect here, aren’t you?” he teased, his grin warm and inviting.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you got to work. The snow was perfect, soft enough to mold but firm enough to hold its shape. You began rolling the snowball across the ground, watching it grow larger and larger. Meanwhile, Jayce fashioned the middle and top sections, his gloved hands moving with practiced ease.

“Hey,” he called out after a while, his voice tinged with amusement. “Is this snowman going to rival the height of the council tower? Because it’s looking like you’re aiming for a structural masterpiece.”

You stepped back, admiring your work. The base was enormous, almost up to your waist. “Bigger is better ,” you retorted with a grin, dusting the snow off your gloves. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”

Jayce chuckled, hoisting the midsection of the snowman in his arms. “Fair point. But if this guy topples over, I’m blaming the architect.”

You laughed as he carefully balanced the second snowball on top of the base. “You’re not exactly the most careful engineer I know, Jayce. Remember that time you accidentally launched yourself across the workshop?”

“That was one time!” he shot back, laughing as he adjusted the snowball until it was perfectly centered. “And I still say it was an unintended success.”

“You’re lucky I was there to catch you,” you teased, rolling up the final snowball for the head. Jayce stepped aside to help you lift it, his hands brushing against yours as you both placed it on top. The snowman took shape quickly, its proportions absurdly exaggerated but undeniably charming. Jayce pulled a handful of random gadgets and bolts from his pocket, because of course he carried those everywhere, and started sticking them into the snowman’s torso.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching in disbelief as he carefully attached a cogwheel where a button might go.

“Improving him,” Jayce said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Every snowman deserves a touch of innovation.”

You snorted. “This is why you can’t leave well enough alone.”

“I prefer to think of it as creativity,” he said, leaning back to admire his work. “What do you think? Too much?” The snowman now looked like a combination between a friendly holiday figure and an early prototype from Jayce’s workshop. His scarf draped around its neck (stolen from Jayce’s coat), the twig arms were bent at jaunty angles, and the “buttons” were a mismatched collection of gears and screws.

“It’s… unique to say the least,” you said, stifling a laugh. “But he needs a name. How about… Buddy?”

Jayce grinned. “I like it. He’s definitely our buddy now.”

The two of you stood back, admiring your creation. The late morning sun glinted off the snow. But then, out of nowhere, a snowball hit you square in the shoulder. “Jayce!” you yelped, spinning around to see him grinning mischievously, another snowball already in his hand.

“Consider it a christening for Buddy,” he said with a wink, launching the second snowball toward you.

You dodged, laughing, and scooped up some snow of your own. “Oh, you’re going to regret that!” The next few minutes devolved into a chaotic snowball fight. You darted behind trees, narrowly avoiding Jayce’s throws while lobbing your own with surprising accuracy. He wasn’t as agile as you, but his aim was scarily good, and more than once you ended up covered in snow.

When you finally called a truce, you were both breathless and laughing, your cheeks pink from the cold and exertion. Jayce flopped onto the snow, spreading his arms and legs to make a snow angel.

“Not bad,” he said between breaths. “But I think I won.”

“You wish,” you said, collapsing beside him. “I hit you way more times than you hit me.”

“Debatable,” he replied, turning his head to look at you. His brown eyes sparkled with warmth, and his smile was softer now, less mischievous. The two of you lay there in the snow, staring up at the pale blue sky. The world felt quiet, the only sounds the distant laughter of children and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.

“Thanks for dragging me out here,” Jayce said after a while. “I needed this.”

You turned your head to face him, your breath visible in the cold air. “Me too. It’s nice to just... be for a while. No council meetings, experiments, or deadlines.”

“Just you, me, and our little Buddy,” he said with a chuckle, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. You felt your cheeks grow warmer, though whether it was from the cold or something else, you weren’t sure. “And the cookies,” you reminded him, sitting up and reaching for the box he’d brought.

Jayce sat up too, brushing snow from his coat. “Right. Can’t forget about the cookies.” The two of you sat together, sharing cookies and sipping hot cocoa from the thermos. Buddy stood proudly nearby, a testament to your combined (if slightly chaotic) efforts. Pulling off your gloves, cradling the thermos in your hands. The warmth seeped through your fingers as you took a sip, the rich, sweet cocoa melting the chill in your bones. Jayce opened the box of cookies, offering you one before taking one for himself.

"These are so good,” you said, savoring the buttery sweetness.

“Told you Mrs. Halloway knows her stuff,” Jayce replied, his grin boyish as he took a large bite. “Snowball fights and cookies. Best day off ever.”

You leaned back, watching Buddy stand proudly in the distance. “I think we outdid ourselves with that snowman,” you said.

Jayce glanced at it, a playful smile on his face. “He’s definitely got personality. Though next year, I’m thinking we add some light-up features. Maybe a mini hammer.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course you are. But fine, as long as I get to handle the design.”

“Deal,” he said, raising his cookie like a toast.

As the two of you sat there, sharing cookies and warm drinks, the soft glow of the setting sun painted the snow in shades of gold and pink. It was a rare, perfect moment of peace, one you knew you’d carry with you through the busier days ahead. And in the quiet of the winter evening, with Jayce’s laughter still echoing in your ears, you realized this was what you loved most about him: his ability to make even the simplest moments unforgettable.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Jayce pulled his scarf from the snowman and wrapped it around your shoulders instead.

“You’re going to freeze,” you protested, but he shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’re the one who dragged me out here, so it’s only fair that I make sure you stay warm.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, leaning into his side as he slung an arm around you. “Same time next year?” he asked, his tone light but hopeful.

“Maybe, as long as you aren't late.” you agreed, smiling as you watched the last light of day fade behind the snow-covered trees.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @writingwisterias

[bunnyyyuu]

includes: implied f! reader, nothing but fluffff, PINK

for context, i dyed my hair hot pink this weekend with the help of my gf! but it came out red (though i love the red its my favorite hair color ive ever had). anyways that + yuuta brainrot =

yuuta’s eyes are squinted so small you worry if he can even see what he’s doing. his tongue is sticking out of his lips in concentration—how cute. his hair is out of his face in a little ponytail atop his head held up wjth one of your spare scrunchies. he’s gripping the brush with a gloved and as he meticulously worked.

you were tired of paying upwards of 200? 300? dollars for a new look. so, tonight, you’d asked your lovely boyfriend to dye your hair pink for you. he’d never dyed hair before, but, after studying a couple youtube videos with furrowed brows, he’s feeling relatively confident.

“sorry if i mess up your hair,” he murmurs for the upteenth time as he globs more hot pink goop on the naked section of your hair.

he was anxious—how could he not be? there was a chance he could ruin your hair and your confidence in just an hour or so. you just giggled, trying to stay as still as possible but your shoulders still shake a little.

“if you fuck my shit up and i have to go bald, will you still love me?” you ask. you can see him in the mirror hanging on your bedroom door you were seated in front of, a faint blush pinking your cheeks at just how adorably focused he looked.

“i’ll love you always,” he says simply, as if it was common sense.

“even if i’m bald? like shiny, not-a-single-strand-of-hair bald?” you continue pestering him.

“yes, yes, love your hair, but i would still love you without it." you can tell he’s struggling to juggle his task and your conversation, so you shut up.

he has you leaning over the edge of the tub an hour later, holding the detachable shower head. bright, neon pink water threatens to stain the porcelain white tub as he rinses your hair. your’re hissing at the freezing temperature of the water, eyes squeezed shut so tight as it streams down your face.

he keeps rinsing, occasionally running his hands through your sopping locks to check if there was any dye left on your scalp, until the water grew light enough to be safe.

he blow dries your hair after, mumbling apologies when you whine about the heat against your head. he’s not letting you look at yourself until it's all done, but you're pretty sure he likes it.

“it looks good,” he half-shouts over the sound of the hairdryer, “very pink!”

once your hair was all done, he pressed a kiss against the crown of your head before turning you to look at the mirror.

you’re looking at your reflection and he’s looking at you. he thinks you might be angel sent down from heaven as a reward for something great he did in a past life.

“yuuta!” you squeal, hands cautiously hovering over the bright strands, “it's so pretty!”

“you're so pretty,” he can't help to remind you—he does that a lot.

he just loves the way you're looking at yourself. he knows (for reasons he cannot even begin to comprehend) that you're not always satisfied with your appearance, even when he puts his best efforts to make you know just how gorgeous you are forth. but, now, you're staring at yourself with such glimmer in your eyes. he doesn't want you to ever look at yourself any other way again.

“do you like it?” he knows the answer before he asks it.

“i love it!” you turn to him, big grin painted on your lips, “i love you!” you throw yourself onto him and press a fat kiss against his forehead.

“i love you more.”

[zaczenemiji]

Curtain Calls and Curveballs II

Kenji Sato x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: After high school graduation, you never expected to see Kenji Sato again. But fate reunites you both at the same university where your love/hate relationship continues to grow.

Word Count: 1,376

Genre/Warning: Coming of Age, Enemies to Lover, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn

Author's Note: Oops, it became a short series 🫢 Part 3’s otw and I changed the title

PART ONE | PART THREE

MASTERLIST

You were dead wrong when you thought that high school graduation would be the last time you’d ever have to interact with Kenji. You remember your last words then, saying, “Congrats, Sato! I hope this is the last time I ever have to deal with you again.”

To which he replied with, “I’m sure this isn’t the last, (y/n)—to me at least—if ever you really are going to be the actress you dream of being.”

You were hurrying across the busy campus of your university, juggling a stack of drama textbooks and a cup of coffee.

Just as you were about to approach the performing arts building, you noticed a group of students gathered around a bulletin board. Your curiosity built up as you got closer to see what the commotion was about.

“Did you hear? There's a big baseball game this weekend.” a familiar voice called out.

You turned, heart skipping a beat. You didn’t expect to see anyone from high school here, let alone Kenji Sato. He stood there, his signature confident grin in place, holding a baseball glove.

"Kenji?" you blurted out, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Kenji raised an eyebrow, looking equally taken aback. "I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “I thought you were off to some fancy drama school."

“I am,” you rolled your eyes, recovering from the shock. “This university has one of the best drama programs in LA. What about you? I thought you were headed straight for the big leagues."

“Not yet,” Kenji chuckled, shaking his head. “I've got a scholarship to play baseball here while I get my degree.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, sizing each other up. The familiar tension from high school crept back in, but it was tinged with the novelty of your new surroundings.

"So, you're still playing ball?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, and I'm still throwing strikes," Kenji replied with a smirk. "And you? Still pretending to be someone else on stage?"

“Ugh!” you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "It's called acting, Kenji. Something you'd know nothing about."

Kenji laughed, the sound surprisingly warm. "Fair enough. So, are you coming to the game this weekend? It's against our biggest rival. Should be a good show."

"I might," you said, shrugging. "If I don't have rehearsals."

"Typical," Kenji said, shaking his head. "Always busy with your little plays."

"And you're always busy chasing a ball," you retorted.

The rivalry that had defined your high school years was still there, but it was different now but no less present.

"Well, I've got to get to practice," Kenji said finally, stepping back. "Try not to trip on stage, (y/n)."

"And you try not to get hit by a pitch, Sato," she shot back.

As you went your own way, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Being in college felt like being in an unknown and bigger territory with so much more people. It was nice to come across someone you know in a crowd of unfamiliar faces; even if that was Kenji.

So many things have changed since you got into college. The only thing that didn’t, of course, was your rivalry with Kenji but the competition was less intense since you were in different programs.

This shift allowed you to focus on your individual passions without the constant pressure of direct competition. Here, in college, people didn’t know about the rivalry you had.

But this anonymity disappeared quicker than you thought because, for every time you came across each other, you’d always be hurling sarcastic remarks; as you two always did.

One bustling afternoon in the cafeteria, you were with your new friends, laughing and discussing your upcoming production.

"Hey, (y/n), I heard your play's actually worth watching this time," Kenji called out, smirking as he approached with his tray.

“Kenji,” You looked up, a frown on your face. "I thought you'd be busy throwing balls around. What brings you to the world of real talent?"

Kenji chuckled, setting his tray down. "Just wanted to see if you're still pretending to be someone you're not."

One of your friends raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. "You two know each other?"

“Unfortunately,” you said, rolling your eyes as you sighed. "Kenji here thinks he's the king of everything just because he can throw a ball."

"Careful, (y/n). Your jealousy is showing," Kenji retorted, grinning.

Your friends exchanged looks, quickly picking up on the rivalry. "So, you two have a history?"

"You could say that," Kenji said. "She's been trying to keep up with me since high school."

You scoffed, "In your dreams, Sato."

On baseball games, you’d attend with a group of friends from your program more to support the school than to see Kenji, or so you told yourself.

As you settled in your seat, one of your guy friends nudged you. "Isn't that the guy you're always talking about? The baseball star?" He asked.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Yes, that's Kenji,” you said. “Try not to feed his ego."

Kenji was on the mound, winding up for a pitch. He glanced towards the stands where he spotted you and your friends. With a smirk, he nodded in your direction.

"Is he waving at us?" another friend asked.

“No,” you shook your head. "He's just trying to show off. Watch, he'll probably strike this guy out just to make a point."

Sure enough, Kenji delivered a fastball that struck the batter out, the crowd erupting in cheers. He turned back to you, giving a mock bow.

Your guy friend laughed. "You weren't kidding,” he said. He's got a flair for the dramatic."

"Tell me about it," you muttered. "He's always been like this."

More than once, on your rehearsals, you’d find Kenji standing by the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.

"Nice performance, (y/n)," he called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Almost believed you were someone else."

You paused, turning to face him with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing here, Kenji?” You asked. “Lost your way to the field?"

The director looked between the two of you, intrigued. "Friend of yours, (y/n)?" He asked.

"Hardly," you answered, crossing your arms. "Just someone who thinks he's more important than he actually is."

Kenji grinned, unfazed. "Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said. “You know, your acting. Seems like everyone's talking about it."

"Well, I'm flattered," you said dryly. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have real work to do."

As Kenji left, one of your fellow actors whispered, "He really gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

You sighed, shaking her head. "He's been doing it for years."

During hell week, your exams season, you’d spend your time in the library a little longer. Of course, Kenji knew about this. He’s been keeping tabs on you since coming across you when you were freshmen.

You were studying in a quiet corner of the library when Kenji walked in. He made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Studying hard, I see," he said, grinning. "Trying to finally beat me at something?"

You looked up, exasperated. "Kenji, some of us actually have exams to prepare for,” you replied. “Don't you have a game to practice for?"

"Already did," he said. "Thought I'd see what the academic life is like. How's the memorizing going? More lines to learn?"

"At least I use my brain for something other than sports," you shot back.

A nearby student, overhearing the exchange, glanced over with curiosity. "Do you two always bicker like this?"

You nodded, not missing a beat, “Pretty much. It's our thing."

Kenji laughed, leaning back in his chair, "Can't let her get too comfortable, can I?"

As he left, the student shook his head, smiling, "You two have a strange relationship."

You didn’t even know that guy or from what program he’s in. It felt like it was high school all over again where everyone knew of your rivalry, and it’s the only thing they knew between you two.

And soon enough, it will be what the world knows about you two.

PART THREE

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