#literally take everything out from me at that time

[algae-tm]

PIT PRINCESS

Max Verstappen x mechanic!Reader

Summary : you accidentally (?) become part of the red bull pit crew

Currently Playing : Nissan Altima by Doechii

Warning : Doing what I do best, so just pure crack, like 0 accuracy to anything enjoy

Author’s Note : IM BACKKKK, did you miss me? cause I missed you. Heyyyy how y’all doing, sorry for being kinda inactive it’s a mix between writers block and believing everything I write is straight up dookie.

••••••

TWITTER

•••••

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just posted

liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc and 10,089 others

yourusername : hello Australia! first day on the job pretty nervy 🫠

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redbullracing : welcome home y/n 😊

— yourusername : thank god you’re here admin I’m surrounded by serious science people

user2 : wait you were being serious on twitter 😭

— yourusername : I’m always serious :(

— user2 : @/yourusername girl pls ✋🏽 you just said the garage was full of serious science people😭😭

charles_leclerc : glad you found your way, now please never enter my garage again

— user4 : lmao wut did she do????!!

— charles_leclerc : she gave us the cupcakes she baked

— yourusername : just being neighbourly 😊

— charles_leclerc : now half my garage has a tummy ache

— yourusername : damn… they weren’t good then 😞

— charles_leclerc : this is psychological and biological warfare!!

— yourusername : god forbid a girl commits acts of terror 🙄 but I’ll make it up to you guys I’ll bake you a fresh batch

— charles_leclerc : NON!!! Please do not! Refrain from doing so! Do not bring any baked goods near us!

— yourusername : tough crowd

user5 : damn DEI is getting crazy out here

— user6 : I hate to be this person but is this like an optics thing for rbr? They don’t have the greatest publicity rn…

— user7 : I’d agree with you but there are many black women they could hire who are actually qualified for the job

TEXTS

yourusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda and 28,000 others

yourusername : woohoo P1 for Max and points for Yuki! Also a quick tour through the paddock this stuff is pretty cool and thanks for the hat Ferrari admin I love you! #vibesoverdata

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maxverstappen1 : I’m not even mad… I’m confused, I’m scared, but not mad

yukitsunoda0511 : you gave me moon water instead of electrolytes… thank you?

— user5 : did it work?

— yukitsunoda0511 : my mind has never been clearer. I have never been more focused

user3 : surely that front wing is illegal?

— yourusername : nothing in the handbook against amethyst 🤷🏿‍♀️

fia.official : we are investigating literally everything

— yourusername : max recited the rule book from memory during our first ever meeting. I know the law

— user6 : max did you say? How interesting…

charles_leclerc : admin did you let y/n into our garage again??

— charles_leclerc : @/scuderiaferrari admin pls answer me

— charles_leclerc : @/scuderiaferrari admin she cannot be allowed anywhere near us!

— charles_leclerc : she is sabotaging us!

— charles_leclerc : i do not know how, but i will get to the bottom of this!

— yourusername : 😊😊

INSTAGRAM

f1 just posted

liked by yourusername, and 150,000 others

f1 :

Lando, Max & Oscar react to yet another chaotic Red Bull win, featuring: mysterious tire lube, questionable science, and Y/N’s ever-growing legend.

“Less friction, more fast.” - Y/N, probably.

view all comments

oscarpiastri : I’ve seen things, I can’t unsee them

user10 : I’m sorry but like how did she even get this job?

— user5 : can you not see she’s a whole witch??

lando : can someone check to see if this violates the Geneva convention?

— oscarpiastri : now how do you know what that is?

— ferrariteamlegal : we are looking into it.

user7 : “why does she even have lube” is taking me out 😭

user11 : ur telling me it worked?? She’s a genius! Lock her up

yourusername : science is about boldness! Next time: coconut oil = cornering grace, you’re welcome ☺️

— user27 : science is about boldness meanwhile she has a degree in history and got a C in GCSE science 😭

— yourusername : gosh y’all really hate to see a woman in STEM succeed

— user10 : once again I have to ask… how did you get this job?? @/christianhorner

— christianhorner : error with the paperwork 🤷‍♂️

user88 : no but she commented as if she’s not on an active FBI watchlist

user62 : enzo ferrari did NOT die for this

user1 : the way Lando is actually analysing her methods 😭

— lando : I believe in the power of the crystals! I was the first to understand the vision.

maxverstappen1 : i’m in awe of her, she scares the shit out of me! Two things can be true at once

TWITTER

PRESS CONFERENCE LOG

Location: Paddock, Emilia-Romagna GP Date: [22nd May 2025] Participants: Simon Lazenby (Sky Sports F1) Dr. Helmut Marko (Red Bull Racing)

SIMON LAZENBY (on camera, paddock background): Good evening, Dr. Marko, and congratulations on an unbeaten start to the season, six out of six P1 and P2 finishes for Red Bull. What’s the secret behind Red Bull’s magical turnaround?

HELMUT MARKO (smiling, leans in): Literal magic. But no. To be honest, I thought I’d seen every trick in the book. Then Y/N arrived, and started doing her own thing. So part witchcraft, part guerrilla engineering, I like it she is cutthroat.

SIMON: Let’s break it down. First, crystals on the front wing, amethyst for traction, obsidian for “haters.” That one alone was bonkers enough. What else is on the menu?

HELMUT (chuckles): After Turn One in Bahrain, we realized crystals gave us a few extra tenths in the corners. But Y/N didn’t stop there. Lube on the tire sidewalls, supposedly “reduces drag.” Glitter in the engine bay, “sparkle horsepower,” she called it. Moon water in the fuel cooler reservoir for “emotional balance.”

SIMON: And yet the car hasn’t exploded…?

HELMUT: Not yet. In Bahrain, Y/N used dry ice as a tire warm-up trick. The team refused at first, then we got P1 in quali. By Miami, we had reiki sessions before FP1 and “chakra mapped” pit stop choreography. The results speak for themselves.

SIMON: Yes, you’re correct. Six wins. Those are amazing results. Are you worried the FIA will clamp down on… “spiritual performance enhancements”?

HELMUT (shrugs): They’re investigating whether quartz crystals count as “moveable aerodynamic devices.” Until they ban minerals from the car, we’re technically within the regs. And if the FIA wants to stop snow globe energy grids under the chassis, they must first catch us removing them.

SIMON: Rival teams aren’t exactly thrilled. Charles Leclerc has publicly called it “psychological warfare.” What’s your response to that?

HELMUT: Let them complain. Ferrari’s so busy drafting protest letters they’re forgetting to improve lap times. It’s the oldest weapon in the book, distract your enemy.

SIMON: Looking ahead, are these just party tricks, or is Y/N shaping up to be a genuine race strategist?

HELMUT (leans forward, very earnest): Simon, F1 is margins. Data used to rule everything, now it’s vibes plus data. Y/N has delivered six wins in a row. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re looking at the next team principal, or dare I say, the first psychic FIA president. Y/N is either the downfall or rebirth of F1.

SIMON: Final question, your championship lead is healthy, but with Monaco next, can these… unorthodox methods hold up?

HELMUT (grins): If you can’t out engineer them, out vibe them. We have a full moon on race weekend, and Y/N’s already ordering new “lucky salts” from Marrakech. It doesn’t hurt that both the drivers really like her.

SIMON (smiles to camera): There you have it, six races, six wins, and F1’s most bizarre yet unstoppable strategy. Back to you, Crofty.

TEXTS

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just posted

liked by f1, maxverstappen1 and 400,000 others

yourusername : My crocs have never led me astray, got a pair for max, sadly he can’t wear them in the cockpit, but I can wear mine during pitstops! If I can feel the asphalt, I am the asphalt #PaddockFashionIcon

view all comments

maxverstappen1 : you nearly got run over wearing those. 10/10 race energy tho. also my crocs fit suspiciously well btw

— yourusername : that’s because i measured your foot in your sleep x

— lando : is this flirting or a hostage situation?

oscarpiastri : Charles is not emotionally equipped enough to witness whatever this is

danielricciardo : neither am I but I’m staying for the chaos

charles_leclerc : you WHAT?? You’re giving him enchanted footwear now?

user4 : y’all need to leave Charles alone 😭 Ferrari torture him enough

charles_leclerc : this is psychological sabotage! You are aiding max with moon rocks and crocs and I’m supposed to just drive??

— user6 : he’s gunna start typing in all caps soon

charles_leclerc : STOP FLIRTING

— user6 : there it is…

charles_leclerc : this is a championship fight not a love story!

user6 : he’s so close to a full breakdown I fear

charles_leclerc : THE CROCS HAVE GLITTER ON THEM I SAW THE GLITTER SITH MY EYES!!!

charles_leclerc : WHO GLITTERS RACE WEAR?? WHO DOES THAT???

— yourusername : it’s called sparkle, you wouldn’t get it… it’s a red bull thing

— user8 : no one in the history of anything has ever associated red bull with sparkle

user15 : multiple comments from Charles and y/n hasn’t even blinked. An apex predator.

maxverstappen1 : @/charles_leclerc the sparkle works, also she decorated my water bottle it has a tiny heart charm now. I like it. Feels fast.

user10 : Charles leclerc breakdown aside… wtf is going on between max and y/n???

— user6 : she put a love spell on man’s hydration system 😭

— user12 : max was unbothered and emotionally shut off for like five years then y/n shows up with crystals and now he’s smiling in the garage like a teen girl in love

— user11 : the way max lets her paint tiny stars on his helmet for cosmic alignment?? we’re so far from reality and i love it

georgerussell63 : i think i saw toto crying after she put a healing crystal on the rear wing. Just silently to himself.

user16 : y/n is just that girl I fear her. I want her.

— user5 : so does max get in line.

crocs : we are legally required to say this is not a brand partnership, but can confirm that someone by the name of Charles leclerc just bought a pair of crocs.

TEXTS

•••••

I’ve literally been writing this all day, by the way ik I haven’t posted in a WHILE, so if you want me to remove you from my tag list just let me know

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

@destinyg237

@aliorasspace

[soapysoapysoapysoapy]

price x task force 141 member!reader

You come back from the op filthy, bruised, and running on fumes. But you hit every mark. Made every shot count. Covered Ghost’s six. Got Gaz out of that alley when the ambush hit. Price saw everything.

He doesn’t say much in front of the others. Just a hand on your shoulder, heavy and warm, squeezing once. A silent: Proud of you, love.

But back at the safehouse—door locked—he shows you.

He’s already got a bath running. Hot water. Epsom salts. His big hands guide you in, making you hiss when the heat licks over your aching muscles. Price kneels behind the tub, still fully dressed, sleeves rolled up. He starts with your hair—slowly washing it, nails scraping lightly against your scalp until your eyes roll back. You can feel him getting hard just watching you melt under his touch, but he’s patient. Tonight isn’t about him.

"Took care of my team today. Time I take care of you." His voice is rough, soft at the edges. The way he talks when it's just you.

He washes every inch of you—palms sliding over your arms, down your chest, across your thighs. He lingers between your legs, fingertips ghosting over your folds, but doesn’t take it further. Not yet.

"Such a good girl for me," he murmurs against your ear when he helps you out and wraps you in a towel. "Never miss. Never fuck up. Always my sharpest shooter."

By the time he carries you to bed—literally carries, like you weigh nothing—you’re half drunk on the praise alone. And then Price spoils you.

Lays you out naked on the sheets, spread soft and open, while he eats you until you’re crying. No teasing tonight—just filthy, wet, sloppy head with his beard rubbing raw against your thighs and his tongue driving you insane. He groans every time you come, like it’s his orgasm too, like tasting you is better than fucking.

"That’s it, love. Again—give me another. C’mon, my girl can take one more, yeah? S’what you deserve."

When he finally slides inside you, it's deep and slow. No rush. Just long, dragging strokes while his hands frame your face, his forehead pressed to yours. He praises you with every breath—filthy, sweet, raw.

"Never doubted you. So fuckin’ proud. Best thing that’s ever happened to me." "Look at you—takin' me so well, yeah? My perfect girl." "Nobody else gets this. Only me. Only mine."

You come undone in his arms, again and again, until you forget where you end and he begins. And when he finally follows—deep, filling you up warm—he doesn’t pull out. He just holds you close, whispering rough promises against your temple.

"Always gonna take care of you, love. Always."

And when you fall asleep, boneless and wrecked but glowing inside, it’s with his hand still on your belly and the ghost of his praise still echoing in your ears.

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Daylight savings ( Night Bravings)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Genre: Fluff, slow-burn

Summary: When Lando shows up uninvited to your backyard with iced coffee and taking his hoodie off, you know trouble is ahead.

⸻

The sun was unapologetically bright, the kind that soaked into your skin and made your bones feel like they were humming. You were stretched across an old striped towel in your backyard, sunglasses crooked on your face, legs lazily splayed and still damp from the garden hose.

Your phone lay beside you on the grass, playing soft music. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Boring, even.

Until your back gate creaked.

You didn’t move at first—too content to be concerned. “If you’re a murderer,” you called, “at least bring me a cold drink before you kill me.”

“No promises,” came a familiar, smirking voice.

You turned your head and squinted over your sunglasses. There stood Lando, curls slightly wind-tossed, wearing a hoodie far too warm for the weather and a self-satisfied grin.

And in each hand? A large iced coffee.

You stared. “You actually came.”

He raised the drinks. “You sounded like you were melting. I figured it was a caffeine emergency.”

“I was also enjoying the solitude,” you teased, sitting up slightly.

“Sure you were.” He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the towel next to you without hesitation. “Your Spotify taste says otherwise.”

You snorted. “You mean excellent and unbothered?”

“I mean chaotic and vaguely nostalgic.” He set your drink beside your knee and then—without warning—reached behind his neck and peeled his hoodie off in one slow motion, tossing it to the side.

You blinked as your brain short-circuited.

He was already tanned from traveling, the sun catching golden on his shoulders and arms. He was only wearing swimming shorts underneath. No shirt. No warning. Just him, stretching out beside you like it was nothing.

You took a long sip of coffee mostly to hide your face. “Okay. You can stay.”

He gave you a smug little smile. “I already did.”

The two of you sat in the sun, quietly sipping, the air warm and comfortable. His bare shoulder bumped yours once. Then twice. You didn’t move.

After a moment, Lando said, “You know, this could be a trap.”

You tilted your head. “Me, in a swimsuit, sunbathing in my backyard, drinking iced coffee… is the trap?”

“No, the trap is me letting my guard down because you look like that,” he said, casually, but with just enough edge to make your stomach flip.

You choked slightly on your coffee. “Excuse me?”

Lando turned his head to look at you, eyes glinting. “I’m just saying, you know what you’re doing.”

“I literally look like a swamp witch trying to get a tan.”

He leaned in a little, voice low and amused. “And yet, here I am. Flustered.”

You raised a brow. “You’re flustered?”

He hesitated. “Slightly. It’s the sunglasses. The smugness. The legs.”

You fought the smile tugging at your lips. “Wow. So much power I didn’t know I had.”

“I’m deeply uncomfortable,” he said, sipping his drink again to hide his face.

You smirked. “Want me to cover up?”

He shot you a quick look. “Don’t you dare.”

Silence settled again, thick with amusement and a little bit of something heavier.

You were the one to break it. “You’re not usually this easy to fluster.”

“I’m not usually around you when you’re laying in the sun looking like a smug little goddess.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “…Okay. That one flustered me.”

He grinned wide, triumphant. “Finally.”

You shook your head, leaning back beside him. “You really just show up in my yard with coffee, take your shirt off, and make me blush?”

“Apparently.”

“Rude.”

“Effective.”

You both laughed, and something warm settled in your chest. Something that wasn’t just the sun.

After a while, you whispered, “You said you were flustered…”

He hummed. “Mhm.”

You grinned slowly. His eyes flicked to yours. That familiar smirk returned—but fainter this time. Softer.

He leaned back again, arms folded behind his head like this was just any normal day. His stomach stretched as he yawned, obnoxiously comfortable.

“You still drinking that coffee?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Good,” he said. “Because I think I’m staying a while.”

And you let him.

⸻

The sun had started to sink, lazy and golden, casting long shadows across the grass and dipping everything in that soft, almost-fictional light that made the world feel dreamlike.

You were still lying beside Lando, half on your towel, half on the warm grass, your now-empty iced coffee cup abandoned somewhere by your foot. The silence between you was easy, broken only by the occasional flutter of leaves and the soft clink of ice in the cup Lando kept swirling around just to annoy you.

But then the breeze picked up. Subtle, but cool. Enough to make your skin prickle.

You shivered just slightly.

Lando noticed instantly. “Cold?”

You considered lying. Then considered freezing. Then gave up. “A little.”

Without a word, he reached over to the spot beside him, grabbed his hoodie—the one he’d casually stripped off earlier, ruining your afternoon in the best possible way—and tossed it onto your stomach.

“Put it on,” he said. “You look like a sun-drunk cat who forgot the temperature drops after 6 PM.”

You made a face. “It probably smells like you.”

He grinned. “Yeah. That’s the point.”

You narrowed your eyes but tugged the hoodie on anyway. It was warm. It was soft. And—ugh—it smelled like him. That mix of sun, something expensive, and just a little bit of mischief.

It was also so soft.

He snorted. “You look like a child who stole from the laundry basket.”

“You chose to give it to me,” you said smugly, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. “Now you’ll never get it back.”

“Oh no,” he deadpanned. “What a loss.”

You turned your head and looked at him, his curls now glowing from the dying sun, his bare chest freckled with gold. He looked… calm. Too calm.

So naturally, you had to ruin it.

“You know,” you said sweetly, “it’s getting a little unfair how good you look shirtless in this light.”

His head whipped toward you. “Don’t start.”

You batted your lashes. “I’m just appreciating the view.”

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“No, I’m trying to enjoy my evening.” You stretched dramatically, arms above your head, hoodie sleeves flopping uselessly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His eyes stayed locked on yours. “Too late.”

You swallowed. The air suddenly felt warmer again.

After a beat, he shifted a little closer. Not a lot. Just enough that his knee bumped against yours.

You didn’t move.

“Do you do this often?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Lay out here like this?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “When I want to escape my brain.”

“Is it working?”

You looked at him. The way his fingers played with a stray blade of grass. The way he wasn’t looking at you, not really—just watching the sky above with a soft frown.

“Yeah,” you said honestly. “But you’re kind of making it worse.”

That caught him off guard. “Me?”

You smiled gently. “My brain doesn’t shut up around you.”

Lando blinked. You could see the moment he froze, like his brain couldn’t decide between laughing or running away.

“You just say things like that?” he muttered.

“What, the truth?”

He finally looked at you. “No one’s supposed to say that stuff out loud.”

You rolled onto your side, propping your head up on your hand. “Then why are your ears red?”

He groaned and flopped backward, covering his face with his arm. “I’m never going to recover from this afternoon.”

“You’re welcome.”

He slowly peeked out from under his arm, curls sticking in every direction. “You’re dangerous.”

You leaned a little closer. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t let you suffer.”

That got him. He laughed—bright and surprised—and reached over to flick your hoodie sleeve.

“You’re not even trying anymore,” he accused. “You just know it shuts me up.”

“And yet,” you said, dramatically flopping onto your back again, “you’re still here.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“You’re mine.”

Silence.

Too much silence.

You panicked a little and added quickly, “I mean—technically. Just in the sense of—like—this backyard? I claim it. You’re on my turf. So.”

He was still staring at you.

You were not going to scream into the grass again.

Then—softly: “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t like that.”

You blinked.

He was still staring.

You were 90% sure your heart had just stopped.

And then—his voice broke the quiet. Light. Casual. But not.

“Move over.”

“What?”

He nudged your leg. “The grass is poking me. Your towel’s softer.”

You slid an inch away. He slid in, closer than before. Your arms brushed. Your knees touched.

And just like that, the sun disappeared behind the trees, and all the light that was left seemed to be coming from him.

⸻

By the time the last of the sunlight dipped below the fence line, everything had quieted. Even the breeze held its breath.

You could hear the distant buzz of summer—bugs, maybe, or far-off lawnmowers—but it all felt miles away. Here, in the tiny world you and Lando had carved out on one towel in your backyard, there was only warmth, silence, and the sharp, steady beat of your heart.

He hadn’t moved much since sliding in beside you. Maybe his breathing had slowed. Maybe yours had quickened. All you knew was that every inch between you felt alive.

Lando exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding something in. “You know,” he said, so quietly it almost didn’t register, “I wasn’t planning on staying this long.”

You turned your head slightly. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at you, just traced a faint line in the grass with his finger. “I was just gonna drop off the coffee. Make a dumb joke. Leave.”

You smiled faintly. “You still made the dumb joke.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. But now I’m here. And I… don’t really want to go.”

That made your chest ache a little. The good kind. The kind that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one caught in this slow-burn spiral.

You tilted your head, voice gentler. “Why’d you stay?”

He glanced at you then. Not a full look—just enough for his lashes to catch the light. “Because it’s quiet here. And warm. And I like the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your breath hitched. You opened your mouth to deny it. To joke. To change the subject. But nothing came out.

Lando finally turned to face you fully, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. His eyes searched yours, like he was looking for permission he wasn’t sure he deserved.

And then he said, very quietly, “Can I try something?”

You nodded before you even understood the question.

His hand moved slowly—almost uncertain—as he reached up and pushed your sunglasses up into your hair. His fingers brushed your temple, lingered just a second too long. The world seemed to pause.

“I like your eyes better when I can see them,” he murmured.

And just like that, your body forgot how to function.

You were still processing that when he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, leaning in—not fast, not demanding, just close enough that your noses were nearly touching.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, like the words might break if he said them any louder.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t say anything at all.

You just closed the space between you.

The kiss was soft. Careful. So much tension threaded through it that it almost came apart at the seams. It wasn’t desperate—it was deliberate. A question wrapped in warmth. A quiet confession dressed in sunshine and old towels and iced coffee.

When he finally pulled back—barely—he pressed his forehead to yours and sighed like he’d been holding that breath for years.

“Well,” he murmured, “there goes my afternoon.”

You laughed. Quiet. Breathless. “I think it was already gone the moment you took your shirt off.”

“Tragic,” he whispered. “But fair.”

He shifted again, this time flopping back onto the towel with the most dramatic sigh you’d ever heard. His arm, without really asking, found its way beneath your head, pulling you gently to rest on his shoulder. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stayed there. Together. Quiet. Close.

And when the stars finally began to show up—one by one like shy guests—you felt his thumb trace idle circles along your arm.

“Hey,” he murmured eventually.

“Yeah?”

“Next time,” he said sleepily, “can I still be flustered? Or is that a one-time deal?”

You smiled against his shoulder, heart impossibly full. “Depends on how short your shorts are.”

He snorted. “Evil.”

“You knew what this was.”

“I didn’t. But I really, really want to.”

You didn’t say anything. You just reached down, tangled your fingers with his, and held on.

And in the cool night air, wrapped in his hoodie and something that felt like the start of everything, you stayed.

⸻

Eventually, the stars multiplied—spilling across the sky like someone had cracked it open and let the light leak through. The warmth of the day had faded, replaced by something quieter, something slower. Lando was still beside you, arm beneath your head, fingers linked with yours.

You weren’t sure how long you lay like that. Long enough for the last bits of light to vanish. Long enough for your heart to settle into a rhythm that matched his.

And then his voice broke the silence, low and hesitant: “So, uh… do we just… sleep out here now?”

You turned your face into his shoulder to hide a smile. “You’re the one who said you were staying a while.”

“Right. I meant like… emotionally. Not physically.” He paused. “I didn’t bring a toothbrush.”

You laughed softly, and it made him grin. “You’ve stayed over before.”

“Yeah, but that was Mario Kart and couch blanket territory. This feels different.”

You lifted your head just slightly, enough to look at him. His curls were a little messy now, his expression open in a way that made something in your chest twist.

“It is different,” you said quietly.

Lando blinked. Like he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.

Then, “I don’t want to ruin it.”

You tilted your head. “Lando…”

“I’m serious.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I don’t want this to be a moment we pretend didn’t happen.”

You studied him. “Do I seem like someone who forgets kisses that easily?”

He smiled faintly. “You’re kind of intimidating, actually.”

That made you laugh again. “You’ve literally watched me cry over a burnt quesadilla.”

“And I still showed up in your backyard with iced coffee. Clearly, I’m in too deep.”

You hummed. “Yeah. You kind of are.”

Another beat passed.

Then: “Wanna come inside?”

He blinked, surprised by your question.

You added, “There’s leftover pasta. And probably a blanket that doesn’t smell like grass.”

“And toothbrushes?”

You grinned. “I might even let you borrow mine.”

Lando sat up, stretching with a dramatic groan, and then offered you a hand. “You’re the worst host ever, but I’m weirdly into it.”

You took it, standing slowly, a little cold now that you’d left the towel behind. His hoodie still hung around you, the sleeves long past your hands.

“You are keeping that, aren’t you?” he said, eyeing it.

You nodded solemnly. “Forever. It’s mine now.”

He just smiled, slipping his hand into yours again like he didn’t even have to think about it.

The two of you wandered back inside—quiet footsteps, soft laughter, the sliding glass door clicking shut behind you. You didn’t bother with lights. The moonlight spilling in through the windows was enough. Familiar shapes, soft shadows, the comfort of a home that already knew him.

You tossed your empty cup in the sink. He leaned against the counter, still shirtless, still golden from the sun.

And he was still looking at you like he hadn’t quite recovered from earlier.

You gestured toward the hallway. “Blanket or pasta first?”

He hesitated. Then crossed the room in a few slow steps and tugged gently on the hoodie sleeve that hung from your arm.

“I think I want you first.”

Your heart gave a traitorous skip.

You didn’t say anything—you just stepped in closer, arms looping around his waist, forehead resting against his chest.

And in that quiet, kitchen-lit moment, Lando wrapped his arms around you and held on like he wasn’t going anywhere. Like this was exactly where he was always supposed to be.

He kissed the top of your head. “This is a very emotionally reckless hoodie.”

You mumbled into his chest, “Should’ve thought of that before you took it off.”

He chuckled. “Next time, I’m bringing two.”

You felt his laughter vibrate through his chest where your cheek rested. It was warm, steady. Familiar.

Then came the quiet again—the kind of silence that didn’t ask to be filled. His arms stayed around you, fingertips tapping a slow rhythm against your back like they had nowhere better to be. Like they already belonged there.

But after a moment, you pulled back just enough to look at him. “You’re still not getting it back, by the way.”

Lando raised a brow. “The hoodie?”

You nodded. “It’s legally mine now. Common law ownership.”

He grinned, lips twitching. “I see. You’re going for emotional squatter’s rights.”

“Exactly. It now lives in my closet, between my emotional baggage and the sweater I stole from my sister.”

His smile softened again, like it always did with you. “What if I asked nicely?”

You stood on your toes just a little, nose brushing his. “Then I’d let you visit it. Supervised.”

His breath caught, almost too quietly to catch. But you did. You always did with him.

“I think I’d rather visit you,” he said.

It was barely above a whisper.

You stepped back first, only because you had to. “Okay, Casanova. Pasta’s going to get lonely.”

He groaned, throwing his head back like you’d just delivered the greatest tragedy known to man. “You can’t just flirt like that and then pivot to carbohydrates.”

You smirked, already padding toward the kitchen cupboards. “Watch me.”

He followed you anyway, of course. Still barefoot, still a little dazed, like gravity didn’t quite work right when you were near. You grabbed the pasta container from the fridge, popped it into the microwave, and leaned against the counter while it warmed—arms crossed, hoodie sleeves bunched at your elbows.

Lando watched you in that quiet way he sometimes did. Less teasing, more observing. Like he was memorizing you in the mundane.

“You really gonna let me use your toothbrush?” he asked finally.

You tilted your head, playful. “I said maybe.”

He squinted, suspicious. “So that wasn’t a flirty offer? That was a trap?”

“Everything’s a trap with me. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“I’m learning it the hard way,” he said, inching closer. “Still here, though.”

You looked up at him just as the microwave beeped, loud and ridiculous between you. He didn’t move away. Didn’t stop smiling.

“I’m not kidding,” he added softly. “I think I could get used to this.”

You opened the microwave door to buy yourself a second. “Leftover pasta and emotional sabotage?”

He bumped your hip with his. “Exactly.”

You plated the food—he stole a bite before you could even grab forks—and the two of you ended up curled on the couch with a shared bowl, legs tangled under the blanket you found in the linen closet.

He fed you a spiraled noodle with way too much ceremony. You retaliated by flinging a bit of basil at him.

The laughter came easy. So did the closeness.

Eventually, the food was gone, the bowl abandoned on the coffee table, and your head found his shoulder again like it was meant to. The room was dim, TV humming low in the background, some sitcom neither of you were really watching.

Lando shifted slightly, resting his cheek on top of your head. “So… this is definitely not Mario Kart and couch blankets anymore, huh?”

You hummed, content. “Nope. It’s hoodie theft and pasta-based intimacy now.”

He grinned against your hair. “God, you’re dangerous.”

And you smiled—because he said it like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

You stayed like that for a while, the kind of while that made time stretch and slow and feel like it didn’t need to be counted. His arm stayed around your shoulders, your legs draped across his like they’d done it a thousand times before.

The TV murmured some laugh track in the background, and you could feel him breathing—steady, calm, like the day had wound down into something safe.

“You know,” he said eventually, voice soft, “I used to think nights like this only happened in movies.”

You glanced up at him, your cheek brushing his collarbone. “Because of the pasta?”

He smirked. “Because of the girl who keeps stealing my clothes and making me feel like I belong somewhere.”

Your chest tightened. That quiet, aching, warm kind of tight.

“I’m not trying to make you feel that way,” you murmured.

“I know,” he said, eyes on you now. “That’s what makes it worse. Or better. I haven’t decided yet.”

You reached up, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “You belong, Lando.”

His breath hitched again—barely. But it did.

The teasing was gone now. So was the grin. What was left was this soft sort of awe, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he didn’t know what to do with how he felt.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said.

You blinked.

Not because it shocked you—no. You’d felt it, too. In the way he looked at you. In the way he always came back, always stayed.

But hearing it out loud made something inside you crack open.

So you whispered, “Then maybe you should start bringing a toothbrush.”

Lando stared at you. Then laughed—quiet, breathless, full.

“I’m serious,” you added, your fingers playing with the hem of your stolen hoodie. “I can’t exactly be seen dating a guy with poor dental hygiene.”

He pulled you in again, arms tight around your middle, face buried in your neck now.

“You’re unreal,” he mumbled against your skin.

“You’re unreal,” he mumbled against your skin. His voice was muffled, warm, a little dazed.

You felt the soft brush of his curls against your neck as he lingered there—breathing you in, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just ran your fingers gently through his hair, slow and steady, until his grip loosened enough for you both to breathe again.

“Come on,” you whispered, nudging him slightly. “Bed before one of us falls asleep on the kitchen floor.”

“I’d risk it,” he said, but let you lead him anyway.

The hallway was dim, the kind of quiet that made the whole house feel softer somehow. Familiar shadows, creaking floorboards, your hoodie sleeves still swallowing your hands as he followed close behind. His fingers brushed your back lightly as you walked, never quite letting you get too far ahead.

You pushed the bedroom door open and turned back toward him, only to find him already watching you.

“You sure?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You nodded. “Yeah. I want you here.”

He didn’t say anything—just stepped closer and kissed your forehead in a way that made your knees go a little weak.

It wasn’t rushed, what came next. It wasn’t fumbling or heavy or unsure.

It was slow.

He waited as you pulled back the blankets. Let you crawl in first. Crawled in after, his arm sliding beneath your head like it belonged there, like this was already routine. And when you turned to face him, eyes adjusting to the moonlight slicing in through the blinds, he was already looking at you.

You tucked your hand beneath his shirt, just at his ribs, fingers brushing warm skin. He didn’t flinch. Just sighed, a little content noise, and moved in closer.

His nose bumped yours.

“Still not over today,” he whispered.

You smiled sleepily. “Me neither.”

You leaned in and kissed him once, soft and slow—no pressure, no rush. Just two people who had been circling something for far too long finally letting it happen.

And when you pulled back, his eyes were still half-closed, his lips still curved.

“I like falling asleep next to you,” he murmured.

You buried your face against his chest. “Then don’t stop.”

His arm tightened around you. “Not planning to.”

And with your heart steady against his, the two of you drifted—wrapped in borrowed clothes, lingering affection, and the quiet kind of comfort that didn’t need any more words.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[dcxdpdabbles]

I don't remember if you've ever been asked this, has any Gothamite shipped Danny the Menace with Phantom like BatBruce?

"Did you hear?" A girl whispered to her friends, taking glances at Danny. He had half the mind to tell them they weren't being subtle with their gossiping about him but he was a little curious to see what new rumors were going around this time.

A few months ago, the hottest rumor was that he apparently tricked three students into following him into the sewers as a prank. He fist fought Killer Croc after the criminal came upon them mid prank, outrage the man ruined his hard work.

What no one knew was that Danny had gone into the sewers to map them out, and the three students followed him. He thinks they wanted to blackmail him or something. Instead, the three idiots were making such a ruckus that Killer Croc found them. He had to defend himself and the three idiots in the heat of the moment.

It was his luck that Killer Croc stepped on his wet map - he liked to map things out with a fancy quill and ink- and Danny had shouted, "You stupid idiot! You ruined everything!"

The three idiots had wrongly assumed he ran at the mountain of scaled muscles because of his map. Him winning and then turning to them with bloody knuckles, rage filled eyes, and a sharp grin had only made them think he planned this.

They had run home screaming that Danny was planning on killing them.

It was hilarious how many people jumped out of his way when he walked down the hallway the following days after that.

"Apparently, Phantom asked out Wayne-Fenton, and he was rejected," the girl reveals with a gasp. It's quickly followed by her own friends gasping loudly, too. "He told the Star of Gotham he wasn't good enough"

"Ugh, who does Wayne-Fenton think he is!? Just because he has swooping hair?!"

"Or that he has blue bedroom eyes and a moody demeanor!"

"And so what, if he looks good in anything he wears!?"

"I saw him in the gym once. Washboard abs. Sculpture biceps, and did I mention the abs?! He makes me sick!"

Danny rolls his eyes. So it wasn't a new hot rumor. Just a bunch of people thinking him uncool and attractive again. He picks up his tray and marches out the cafeteria, ignoring the looks that various people sent him.

Its odd to be both the hottest boy in their grade and the most disliked. But he sure the this will in time pass too. He'll just go sit outside on a hill and draw constellations by memory over the city. He misses clear skies so much....

When Danny leaves, he isn't around for various people to hear the gossiping girls and suddenly realizes how attractive he is. How could they not see it? I mean, the guy rejected The Star of Gotham! Phantom is literally one of the hottest beings in the world. They know because Phantom was rank number three in Top hottest Teen Heros.

All the girls and a good chunk of the boys had the sudden realization that.....Danny Fenton-Wayne was so hot he even made ghost blush. Wow.

Phantom receives a lot of "Emergency HeartBreak Kits" from well meaning teenager all over Gotham. A few even tried to consult him by patting his back and revealing that Fenton-Wayne held the hearts of all adolescents in the city, and all adolescents in the city only held Fenton-Wayne's pity.

Unlike his adoptive father, Fenton-Wayne was the forbidden fruit too poisonous to touch. Oh, but we're people tempted to look.

Danny graduated Gotham Academy without a single romantic relationship. No one was good enough for him

(Danny was crying on Alfred's shoulder. "Am I ugly? You have to be honest")

[inseobts]

hiiii! first of all, i love your fics sm!! i love the way you write Law 💙 can i request a fic with BIG LOSER Law? lmaooo like, maybe they go on their first date and he's so awkward and nervous. he has everything planned out but nothing is going according to plan so he's stressing constantly, or the crew is watching him trying to flirt w reader and they get second hand embarrassment (tbh anything you want to write is fine, just make him suffer a little bit bc i think it's funny)

Captain Loser

law × gn!reader

a/n: I tried my best to keep him in character — I hope I did a good job!

words count: 3.5k

tags: fluff, humor, awkward first date, loser law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Law is calm during battles.

Law is calm in surgeries.

Law is not calm when you say, “Sure, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

And now, he’s pacing in his room like a man being hunted.

“Captain,” Bepo says gently, poking his head into Law’s room “You’ve been… changing your coat for the past 15 minutes.”

Law stops, eyes wild “Which one makes me look more—” he stops. Then corrects himself “Never mind.”

Bepo blinks “More what?”

“…Like I’m not dying inside.”

Bepo nods solemnly “Go with the dark one, it's your color.”

The “date” starts with Law arriving twenty minutes early. Not because he’s eager, of course (he is.)

You show up with a smile, looking relaxed and easy-going, and Law immediately forgets how to stand like a normal person. He moves like someone’s remote-controlling him from across the street.

“You look good” he says.

You blink “Thanks! So do you.”

He dies.

Inside.

Law has a plan. It’s written in his notebook.

Literally.

He wrote a plan.

Phase 1: Get snacks from that café in town.

Phase 2: Walk by the docks.

Phase 3: Compliment them. Not weirdly. Normal compliment.

Phase 4: If going well, offer to take them stargazing. If rejected, die.

Simple.

Except that phase 1 explodes immediately.

The café is closed“Temporarily for repairs” the sign says.

Law stares at the sign like it personally betrayed him “This wasn’t in the plan” he mutters.

You peek over his shoulder “We can just get something from a stall?”

He hesitates. That’s not in the plan. That’s not in the plan.

But you’re smiling, so he nods “Right. Improvising. Yeah. I can do that.”

(He can’t do that)...

Meanwhile, across the street Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo are hiding behind barrels. Watching.

“He’s sweating” Shachi whispers.

Penguin squints “Can he even sweat? Is that medically possible for him?”

Bepo sighs “I don’t think he blinked in five minutes.”

Back on the date, Law is now trying to eat takoyaki. He stabs one with a stick, offers it to you, and then, mid-movement, panics.

“Wait—are you allergic to anything? Shellfish? Octopus? Gluten??”

You laugh “Nope. I’m good.”

“…Okay.” He hesitates “Do you want this one, or should I—”

“I’ll take it.”

Back behind the barrels, Penguin falls to the ground “I can’t watch this.”

By the time you’re strolling along the docks (Phase 2 is back on track!), Law is a wreck. Internally. Externally he still has that serious Captain face on.

“You don’t… date often, do you?” you ask, amused.

Law’s steps falter.

“…Is it that obvious?” he mutters.

You bump his shoulder lightly “Just a little. But it’s cute.”

Cute..........

You just called him........ cute.

Someone please sedate him.

He clears his throat “You’re… uh. You’re not bad yourself.”

You laugh “Was that a compliment?”

He looks away “Kind of.”

You grin “I’ll take it.”

Behind a stack of crates, Shachi is losing his mind “SOMEONE PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY.”

“HE SAID ‘NOT BAD YOURSELF’—WHO EVEN SAYS THAT?!” Penguin wheezes.

Bepo watches calmly “I think it’s going well.”

“…Are we watching the same date?”

You’re sitting on the dock now, feet dangling over the edge, watching the sky turn orange. The date hasn’t gone the way Law planned.

Which is exactly the problem.

He stands next to you like he’s guarding treasure. Except he’s not relaxed. He’s tense. Like he expects an ambush.

From the moon.

“So…” you say, glancing up at him “You always this quiet?”

Law hesitates “I’m… thinking.”

“About?”

“…Phase Four.”

“Phase what?”

He freezes “Nothing.”

You narrow your eyes “Law. Did you… plan this date like a battle?”

He clears his throat “No.”

“…You definitely did.”

He changes the subject. Badly “Do you like… stars?”

Meanwhile, behind a crate about 50 feet away, Shachi has his binoculars out.

“They’re sitting. It’s happening. Phase Four is happening.”

Bepo nods, whispering, “Do you think he’ll kiss them?”

Shachi nearly drops the binoculars “No way. No way. He’d combust.”

Penguin has snacks now “What if y/n kisses him first?”

There’s a beat of silence.

They all go, in unison: “He’d die.”

Back at the dock, you lean back on your hands “Stars are nice. But I like hearing you talk about things you like.”

Law blinks. That wasn’t in the plan.

“…Like medicine?” he asks cautiously.

“Sure.”

“Anatomy?”

You raise a brow “Within reason.”

He exhales slowly “What about… the ocean?”

“See?” you say “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t think so.”

You tilt your head “Are you nervous?”

“…Extremely.”

You smile.

That’s when you both hear it.

“PENGUIN, GET YOUR FOOT OFF MY HEAD—”

Law stiffens “Wait.”

There’s rustling. A loud clunk. Then “SHHHHHHH!! THEY CAN HEAR US—”

Law turns slowly. You follow his gaze.

A barrel tips over.

Three grown men—one bear, two idiots—collapse into the open like spilled groceries.

“…Oh my god,” you whisper “Were they SPYING on us?!”

Law’s eye twitches.

Shachi pops up “Captain!! Don’t be mad!! We were just—uh—moral support!!”

Bepo waves sheepishly “You were doing great until now!”

Penguin gives you a thumbs-up from the ground “You’re really cute together!”

Law looks like he’s going to murder someone.

You, meanwhile, are wheezing.

“They were there the whole time?!” you gasp, laughing “How long have they been WATCHING?”

Shachi: “Since before the takoyaki.”

Penguin: “Since coat number three.”

Law: “…I’m going to kill you.”

Bepo: “But gently, right?”

You stand up and tug Law’s sleeve. He glances down at you, still visibly unamused.

“I thought it was cute” you say “Your plan. The awkward flirting. All of it.”

He stares “Even this?”

You grin “Especially this.”

His ears turn pink.

Later that night…

Law storms into the crew quarters.

“Meeting. Now.”

They scramble to attention.

He points at each of them “You are banned from surveillance. No more binoculars. No more hiding behind barrels. If I see a single one of you during a private moment again, I will operate your limbs off and sew them back wrong.”

Shachi gulps “Got it.”

Penguin: “Totally fair.”

Bepo: “What about just listening—?”

Law: “Bepo.”

“…Okay. Sorry.”

He turns to leave, coat flapping dramatically—until Shachi calls out “Wait! Did you at least kiss them?!”

Law pauses in the doorway. Silent. Then closes the door behind him.

In the hallway, alone, he leans against the wall, covers his face, and mutters “…Next time.”

Breakfast on the Polar Tang is loud.

Penguin and Shachi are fighting over eggs. Bepo is carefully peeling an orange like it’s surgery. The table’s full—shoulders bumping, chopsticks clattering, someone laughing every five seconds.

You walk in, hair still messy, and Law is already seated at the end.

He looks up the second you enter.

“Morning” you say, rubbing your eye.

He nods, quietly “Morning.”

You take the empty seat beside him.

On the other end of the table, someone yells, “Hey—who took the last piece of cake?!”

You glance up. Sure enough there’s one perfect square of fluffy, cream-filled strawberry shortcake sitting on a plate near the middle. Or rather was sitting.

In one clean, lightning-fast movement, Law grabs it and slides it across the table.

In front of you.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t explain. Just keeps drinking his black coffee like he didn’t just commit pastry theft.

You stare at him.

Then at the cake.

Then back at him.

“You like it” he says again, like that explains everything.

Which… it does. Kind of.

You blink fast and look away, trying not to smile too hard. He’s always the type to do something so sweet.

But then he notices your cup’s empty and, without saying anything, reaches over and refills it from the kettle. Still not looking at you. Still completely casual. Like it's just part of his morning routine.

Your brain short-circuits.

...And it gets worse.

A piece of hair falls into your face. You're about to push it back, but he does it first—absentminded, fingers brushing your temple like it’s nothing.

Like it’s normal. Like it’s just something he’s allowed to do.

You stop breathing for a second.

Law, meanwhile, is already slicing into an omelet, entirely unaware that he’s killing you one tiny gesture at a time.

You take a bite of the cake, cheeks warm.

It’s perfect...Of course it is.

Later, as you’re both standing up to clear plates, you bump shoulders.

“Thanks” you murmur.

“For what?”

“The cake. The tea. The hair thing. All of it.”

He looks at you for a second but then his gaze flicks from your eyes to your mouth and back again.

“…Wasn’t a big deal.”

“It kinda is.”

He blinks. Tilts his head a little.

You smile “You’re a lot cuter when you’re not trying so hard, y’know.”

He frowns “I wasn’t trying before.”

“Exactly.”

You pat his arm, grab your dish, and head toward the sink.

Behind you, he stands there, stuck in place.

Then mutters to himself “…Cuter?”

After breakfast you’re chatting with Bepo about the latest island rumors, sitting at the mess table again. Law’s standing nearby, arms crossed, pretending to read a report. But he keeps looking up every time you laugh. Every time you tilt your head, or say his name, or look like you might say something else.

He’s not subtle.

Not even a little.

You don’t call him out for it. You like it. The fact that he’s choosing to just be around you, even if he pretends he isn’t.

He’s calmer now than he was on your first date. Less fidgety. Less stressed. And way more dangerous because of it.

Like right now, he glances up from his report, sees you rubbing your shoulder absently, and immediately sets the paper down.

“You okay?”

You blink “Yeah, just slept weird.”

He steps behind you and before you can ask what he’s doing his hands are on your shoulders.

Firm, careful pressure. His thumbs move in slow circles against your neck, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. (He does. He’s a doctor, after all).

Your body goes very still.

The crew goes even stiller.

Across the room, Shachi drops a wrench.

Penguin inhales a peanut and starts coughing.

Bepo covers his mouth like he’s watching a sacred ritual.

Law doesn’t notice. Or maybe he does, but doesn’t care.

He just mutters, “Tell me if it hurts” and keeps working the muscle.

You swear you might dissolve on the spot.

Later that day, you're walking down the hall toward the storage room when you hear it “DID YOU SEE THE MASSAGE?”

It's Shachi. His voice echoes off the metal walls.

“That was intimate, right? That wasn’t just medical. That was spiritual.”

Penguin: “I choked on a peanut for a reason. That was fate.”

Bepo, calmly: “I think they’re in love.”

You peek around the corner.

They’re in a triangle of chaos. Whisper-yelling. Flailing. Dramatic hand gestures.

You clear your throat and all three freeze.

You raise your eyebrows.

“…We were just talking about the weather” Shachi says, very seriously.

“Peanut forecast” Penguin adds.

Bepo bows slightly “I fully support you and the captain.”

You blink “We’re not even dating.”

There’s silence.

Then, in unison “YET.”

You walk off, red in the face, trying not to laugh.

You don’t see Law leaning in the next hallway, arms crossed again, listening to the whole thing.

He exhales through his nose, quietly.

Then mutters to himself “…Idiots.”

But his lips twitch. Just a little.

Law finds you on the deck in the early evening.

You're sitting on a crate, swinging your legs, watching the lights in the distance as the town starts to glow with festival lanterns.

He approaches, hands in his pockets.

“Hey” he says.

You glance up “Hey. Festival looks nice.”

He nods.

There’s a pause.

You look at him, expectant.

He shifts his weight, like he’s debating something. Then “…You wanna go?”

You blink “To the festival?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, eyes on the horizon “Figured if I ask without writing a five-step plan first, I might not almost die.”

You snort “So this is you asking me on another date?”

He glances at you “Depends.”

“On?”

“If you say yes.”

You grin “I do.”

He exhales “Cool.”

You both try not to smile too obviously.

The festival is chaos but in the best way.

Kids dart through the crowd with candy in both hands. Music plays from a group of locals with hand drums. Lights swing overhead like constellations. There’s food everywhere.

You’re walking side-by-side, not touching, but close enough that your arms brush every now and then.

It’s comfortable.

It’s easy.

You pass a game booth, some kind of target shooting with cork guns. Law glances at it, then at you.

“You good at that?”

You shrug “Mediocre. You?”

“…Surgical.”

You grin “Prove it.”

Ten minutes later, he’s won you a stupid plush seal.

Not by being cool... no. He misses the first two shots, scowls at the gun like it insulted his ancestors, then mutters something about "cheap manufacturing" and *then* gets serious.

Tongue between his teeth. Narrowed eyes. Absolutely committed to this ridiculous task.

When he finally hits the last target, he looks so smug that you burst out laughing.

He shoves the plush into your hands “I said I’d get it.”

You’re still laughing “You’re so dramatic.”

He watches you, something soft in his eyes “…You like it though.”

You pretend to examine the seal “I mean, the craftsmanship’s a little off…”

He bumps your shoulder with his.

You both smile.

Later, you stop for shaved ice, sitting together on a low wall at the edge of the square.

You’re halfway through your dessert when Law quietly says, “This is better.”

You pause “Than what?”

He looks down at his cup “Last time. When I was trying too hard.”

You tilt your head “You were cute then, too.”

He huffs “I was malfunctioning.”

“You were. But it was cute.”

He glances at you, eyes a little narrowed “You call me cute one more time, I’ll—”

“What?” you challenge, grinning.

He leans in. Just a little.

You freeze.

“…I’ll get you a second plush” he says, flatly.

You burst out laughing.

He pulls back, lips twitching. He’s definitely not immune to how red your face is right now. And he likes it.

The sun dips lower, the festival softens. Lights blur a little more golden, music slows down, and kids start tugging tired parents toward "one last game."

You and Law are still wandering, side-by-side, when you pass a booth with a simple ball toss game, rings over bottles.

There's a kid already playing. Small. Serious. Determined.

Law stops. Watches.

The kid notices.

Their eyes lock.

You can feel the energy shift.

The kid slowly, silently, picks up another ring.

Law crosses his arms.

You look at both of them “…What is happening?”

Neither answers.

The kid tosses.

Hit.

Law steps up, drops a coin in the tray without looking away from the tiny opponent.

He tosses.

Hit.

It’s on.

The next few minutes are dead silent, deadly focused, and weirdly intense. Ring after ring. Perfect aim. Small frowns. No smiles. Just raw, quiet competition between a six-year-old and a warlord of the sea.

You’re trying so hard not to laugh you’re shaking.

Eventually the kid lands the final toss. Clean. The biggest bottle. Fireworks go off behind them (perfect timing), and they just nod like, obviously.

Law misses his last ring by a centimeter.

The kid walks over to the prize wall, selects a plush shark... huge, bright blue... and struts back to you.

Holds it out.

“For you, princess,” he says, with perfect, practiced swagger “I’m way better than him.”

You blink.

Law blinks.

The kid walks off without another word.

You look at Law.

You cackle.

Like, actual, doubled-over, wiping-your-eyes laughter.

Law is standing there in stunned silence like he just got outplayed in flirting by a child.

“Did he just—”

You nod, wheezing “He did. He called me princess. Did you hear that delivery?!”

Law glares at the shark plush like it insulted his honor.

You’re still laughing when he says, “It was rehearsed. He’s done that before.”

You lean against the booth, catching your breath “Oh my god. You should’ve done that on our first date.”

He mutters something about “not stooping to plush-based mind games” but he’s definitely not as grumpy as he pretends to be.

And when you nudge him, smiling, he just mutters “…I still won the seal.”

The walk back to the ship is quiet.

The streets behind you still glow with festival lights, but out here, closer to the shore, it’s all stars and sea breeze. A little cooler. A little slower.

You and Law walk side by side. No need to talk. No need to fill the silence.

You’re holding the dumb blue shark and the seal.

He hasn’t teased you about it since the kid incident. Maybe he knows you’d win. Or maybe he’s distracted.

You glance at him. His eyes are soft tonight, not sharp like they usually are. He’s not analyzing anything. Not overthinking. He’s just here with you.

“I had fun” you say quietly.

He nods “Yeah.”

You wait a second... “…That all you’re gonna say?”

He looks over “I didn’t almost die of embarrassment this time.”

You smile “True. Growth.”

A pause.

Then he says, voice lower “I liked being with you. Not just because it went better. Just… because it’s you.”

You stop walking.

He does too. Turns to face you fully.

The wind lifts his coat slightly. The moon lights the water behind him. His expression is unreadable for a second—then shifts.

Softer. Realer.

“I don’t really do this kind of thing,” he says “Dates. People.”

“I know.”

“But I want to try. If it’s you.”

Your heart stumbles.

You step closer “I was planning to kiss you tonight.”

His breath hitches, just a little “Oh.”

You grin “You okay with that?”

He nods once “Yeah.”

And that’s all you need.

You lean in. Your hands brush his coat. His breath catches. Then you kiss him. Slow. Steady. Warm.

He kisses you back like he’s memorizing it.

One hand rests on your waist, hesitant at first, then firmer, like he’s finally letting himself believe this is real.

When you pull back, you’re both quiet for a moment.

Then he murmurs, barely audible “…Better than a plush.”

You laugh against his chest.

He doesn’t say it, but he holds you a little tighter and that actually says everything.

It’s late, the crew mostly asleep, lights dimmed, the ocean calm. You’re in Law’s quarters now. It’s neater than you expected, but still has that lived-in look. Folders stacked in perfect piles. Books arranged by subject. A single mug half-full of cold tea.

You’re curled up on his couch. Shark plush tucked under one arm. Law’s sprawled next to you, boots off, coat hanging on the back of his desk chair.

His head’s resting against the back of the couch, eyes half-closed. He looks tired. In that good way. The kind that comes after laughter and a kiss and not needing to pretend.

You shift a little and his hand finds yours without looking.

Fingers laced. Easy.

“You’re quiet” you murmur.

“Still processing.”

You glance over “The kiss?”

“No. The shark.”

You snort “Jealous?”

He opens one eye “Of a six-year-old with good aim and terrifying confidence? …Yes.”

You laugh, soft and warm.

Law’s watching you now, really watching you, and this time there’s no hesitation. No second-guessing.

He reaches up and brushes a thumb over your cheekbone. Slow. Gentle. Familiar now.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs “I want this.”

You nod “Me too.”

He shifts closer “You staying?”

You lean your head against his shoulder “Unless you kick me out.”

“…I’d operate the door shut before I let that happen.”

You smile into his shirt.

The next morning you wake up warm.

Wrapped in a blanket, shark plush tucked under your arm, head resting on something solid. And breathing.

You blink.

It’s Law’s chest.

His coat is draped over both of you like some makeshift shield. One of his hands is still loosely around your waist. The other is on his face, like he's already regretting waking up.

You smile.

“Morning” you whisper.

He groans into his palm “No.”

Then there’s a knock... or more like a bang.

“CAPTAIN!”

Law tenses.

You sit up, hair everywhere, still holding the plushes like a shield.

“Captain, are you—” Penguin bursts in and freezes.

Shachi appears behind him, sees the situation, and gasps like someone got stabbed.

Bepo peeks in last. Quietly says, “Told you they were in love.”

Law is already covering his face again.

Penguin: “Are these TWO cute plushes?!”

Shachi: “DID YOU SLEEP IN THE SAME ROOM?!”

Bepo, sincerely: “Did you cuddle?”

You blink at them.

Law doesn’t move.

You clear your throat “Morning.”

Shachi leans in “Good morning to you, power couple.”

Penguin: “So? You guys kiss last night? You kiss? You totally kissed, right?”

Law finally lifts his head.

Dead-eyed. Voice flat.

“Out. Now.”

The crew flees like rats.

You’re left half-laughing, half-horrified.

Law exhales deeply “I should’ve locked the door.”

You lean against him again “I think it’s cute.”

He stares at you like you’ve said something illegal.

You grin, plush squished between you.

“You’re really soft when you sleep, y’know.”

He closes his eyes “I’m moving out.”

[nothanksofficer]

1.0 we are all sinners (the one shot ver)

starring: you, remmick, and bo pairing: bo chow/reader. maybe remmick/reader/bo? mostly bo chow/reader for now

warnings: slight but a bit more nsfw, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation

summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences.

word count: 2k+

list: 0.1 1.0

"Because I know everything he knows now. Even how you like to be licked."

"And I can promise I won't bite too hard."

a/n: so it became a bit bigger than i intended, but honestly i wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if i didnt get this idea out of my head. let me know what y'all think! if this gets enough traction, ill think of making a series

Ever since you first came to town, everyone knew that Bo was more than smitten with you. You, the girl with paint-stained fingers, and a smile that was all rainbows and teeth. He was always the first to seek you out. Always the first to ask for your services. Whether it was for a sign, a label, or even just some basic repainting, he always went to you, and never anyone else. 

It wasn’t until he finally proposed to you, on one knee and all, that he revealed the real reason he had kept calling you back to his store.

“I liked the art, of course,” he said with a charming grin. “It just so happened I liked the pretty girl behind it even more.”

That’s how Y/N Chow came to be. For two years now, you’ve been at Bo’s side, working at the shop, and occasionally painting some signs (for a fee). It was a running joke in town, that even your husband was no exception, meaning even he couldn’t get it for free. 

But whereas the other locals had to pay in cash, Bo paid it forward to you a bit…differently.

“One more time, baby. I still owe you for that shiny new menu, don’t I?” Bo teased. He had his hands between your legs, still slick from your last round. If people knew that the weekly (and in some cases, even daily) signs were just an excuse for your insatiable husband to get his hands on you, you doubted you’d get as many compliments as you did whenever a new one was put up. 

Your life had been peaceful, perfect even, for those first two years. So perfect, in fact, that you and Bo were on the brink of taking the next big step together. The two of you had saved up more than enough for it. And even you had to admit you were just as eager to finally have a little one of your own. One who would be a perfect combination of you both. 

“I wouldn’t mind a girl. Especially if she’s as pretty as her mama,” Bo whispered as he curled up behind you. It was the middle of the night, and even though he had damn near put you to sleep with that crazy stamina of his, you couldn’t seem to close your eyes just yet. Not with him still pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck. 

“Or a boy as charming as his daddy,” you sighed back drowsily. 

Your husband, ever the sweet-talker, didn’t even hesitate. “Why don’t we try for both?” 

So when one of the SmokeStack twins came barging into the store–one you later remembered as Smoke–you weren’t entirely opposed to the new commission for their new venture. The extra money never hurt anyone. And you would be hard-pressed to say no to Bo’s old-time friends. 

Club Juke, they called it. And while you thought the old sawmill to be a strange location for a new club, you didn’t question it…even though you probably should have. The red sign, despite being your own creation, was ominous enough on its own. And yet, you still let Bo lead you inside without even waiting for the paint to dry. The unmatched supply of alcohol should have rang as suspicious. You doubted even the grocer stocks had as much beer and wine as the twins did, and yet, that didn’t stop you from taking the occasional sinful sip. 

The real kicker, however, was the music. Sammie, who even you distinctly remember as the preacher’s little boy, was clearly unmatched at the guitar. And his voice, a hypnotic drawl, that could tempt the most pious to the dancefloor. Not even you and Bo could escape his song. And even though it was only your husband at your side, you could have sworn you heard the symphony of the ancestors joining you both. 

“You’re glowing, baby.” 

“Am I?” You hummed, still lost in the mesmerizing feeling of being part of something greater. Of finally belonging, despite never having really been lost in the first place. 

Bo didn’t say anything more, too entranced as you began spinning around him once more, silk skirt flapping behind you. There was a heady feeling that seemed almost electric. And the more you danced, teasing him with passing touches and glances, the more you could tell it was starting to affect him, too.

That all came to a pause, however, when they arrived.

Three voices in harmony, in what you supposed was a catchy, albeit simple tune. Nothing as intoxicating as the heavy blues of Sammie, but still melodic enough for you to recognize the talent behind it. As you took a peek over your Smoke’s shoulder, curious to see who exactly was singing, you were met with shadowed brown eyes staring unblinkingly into yours. 

“Pick poor robin clean…I pick his hair, I pick his teeth…” 

You tilted your head curiously, more than surprised as the banjo player proceeded to wink at you mid-song. Still, you didn’t think much of it as anything beyond performer’s charisma. And that was almost wiped from your mind entirely when you felt Bo’s hands begin to pull you away from the door. 

You didn’t turn back once, not with your husband now by your side. If you did, you would’ve noticed said banjo player still staring after you both. (But you didn’t.)

You weren’t sure what happened in between that moment and now. Only that something wretched was overtaking the place. One that was marked by Stack’s death at Mary’s hands. No one saw that coming. Much less your husband, who once regaled you with their tragic love story a few years ago. 

You wanted to feel bad for Smoke, you truly did. But your gut feeling told you that you couldn’t afford to. Not when something haunted and evil was beginning to envelope Club Juke like an oncoming storm. 

“We need to leave, Bo.” 

“Baby, he just lost his brother. We can’t just leave him now.”

“I know he’s your friend, but we came to help the club. We didn’t sign up for whatever…this is,” you pleaded. “Please, Bo. This is scaring me. Just take me home first, at least.” 

“Alright. I’ll go get the car for us. You sure you can pack everything by yourself?” At your shaky nod, Bo pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “You wait right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

If you had known that would be the last time you would see your husband, you wouldn’t have begged as hard as you did. But none of you knew what you were dealing with. Not until Cornbread returned acting all strange. Or when Smoke shot him in the head, to no effect. It only really really hit you when Stack somehow came back….wrong. 

Vampires were supposed to be myths. And yet, this…this was terrifyingly real. 

"Let me go! I need to go after Bo!" 

"Careful now. You walk out there, Y/N, you might not walk back in." 

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! My husband is outside with those—those things!" 

But Smoke put his foot down, stopping your argument in its tracks. "Bo can handle himself, Y/N. Besides, you know he wouldn't want to put you at risk either. Bo'd want you here. Inside. Where it's safe."  

It was only thanks to Annie that you and the other survivors had an inkling of what to do. Dead bodies, like the one you found behind the bar, didn’t stay dead for long. Bullets to the head would slow them at best. The only ways to stop them, or at least really hurt them, was with garlic or a stake to the heart. And even then, that was just the tip of the iceberg. 

The one resounding agreement, however, was that under no circumstance could any of you afford to get bitten. Not unless you wanted your soul trapped, becoming one of them.

When you bit into the garlic alongside the others, it tasted like guilt and regret. It only got worse when you were tasked with first watch at the door. Everyone else was at the back, creating more stakes, preparing more garlic, and modifying whatever they could into a weapon.

That’s why, when you first heard the sound of pained gurgles and squelching, you were the only one peeping behind that slightly ajar door. Which you almost regretted instantly, upon seeing the poor ‘dead’ body being consumed by Cornbread.

You nearly screamed for the others, realizing the gravity of your joint mistake and what it cost the innocent man now bleeding to death outside. But before you could, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. One you’d recognize anywhere. 

It was Bo’s.

"Hey, baby," he grinned, and for a moment, you could almost believe it actually was your husband. Keyword being, almost. "Come on outside. I got the car started for you. Let's go!" 

Your first instinct was to pull him inside into safety and make sure he really was okay. He looked exactly as he did when he first went to get the car. But...the way he swaggered past Cornbread, smiling at you like nothing was wrong, made your heart drop. 

“Bo…?”

The sound and smell of fresh blood and flesh tearing made you nauseous, almost unbelievably so, to the point it made you take a nervous step back. A frown briefly formed on Bo’s face, only to be replaced by a charming smile again. (The same one you once fell in love with, you thought to yourself painfully.)

“What is it, Y/N?” 

Your eyes left Bo’s to stare at the chaos happening right beside him. And yet, your husband didn’t even do more than glance at Cornbread. "Oh, don't worry about him, baby. He's just a little hungry, is all," he said offhandedly. "Now, let’s go.”

Bo winked at you, causing you to flinch. Your husband never was the type to do something like that before. Even before he’d married you, he’d always go for words first, then actions second. The only one who ever winked at you like that was–

“Come on. I got the car all warmed up, just the way you like,” he cajoled, turning back slightly as if to show you exactly that. But when you didn’t move to follow him, he sauntered back up to the door with a knowing look on his face. “Or...you let me back in there, and we can grab our things and head home?" Bo's eyes flashed an inhuman silver, akin to the way Stack’s did when he came back undead. You found yourself paralyzed by them, even as he loomed over you from the doorframe. "We can make a pit stop, if you like. Maybe even have some fun on the way back." 

“What happened to you, Bo?” You whispered to yourself, desperately searching his face for the man you once married, only to find something else entirely.

Bo’s smile didn’t falter. Instead it grew, as a different voice decided to answer for him. “I did. And ain’t he so much better now, darling?”

“Remmick,” you recognized. The banjo player from before. The one that Smoke had turned away, along with the rest of his group. “What did you do to my Bo?” 

“I think you already know the answer to that, darling,” Remmick replied. And yet, despite the smooth charismatic tone of his, you flinched away from the door, like a mouse that had just gotten spooked.

“It’s better this way, baby.” Bo tried to convince you, unbothered by the new addition at his side. “So why don’t you be a good girl now and invite us all in?”

"You should listen to him, Y/N. Or listen to me. Because I know everything he knows now. And trust me, darling, he really wants you to let us in there," Remmick restated, his words a near parrot of Bo’s. Or was it Bo’s that were a near parrot of Remmick’s? 

“That’s not true. Bo wouldn’t…” 

“I wouldn’t do what, baby? Do whatever it took to be with my wife again?” Bo quipped back. It was so like him, yet at the same time, entirely not. Because deep down, you knew your husband would never ask you something like that. Not if it would put you in danger. 

And yet, this Bo smiled at you lovingly, almost reverently. As if the prospect of becoming one of them was a blessing, rather than a curse. 

"Listen to your husband now, darling. Can't you see that he—that we—just want what's best for you?”

Despite Remmick's words, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Bo. "You're not...you're not my husband."

Your words caused the smile on Bo’s face to falter. But Remmick’s sharpened, eyes lighting up, as if your words were nothing more than a challenge. A fun game that he just knew he was gonna win.

"Well, that's not very nice of you to say," he tsked.

But you didn’t care. Perhaps if you did, you would have realized that your fire only drew in Remmick even more. "You did this to him. You...you monster.”

"Me? A monster? I just gave him what he wanted, darling. Freedom. A family. In fact, this was his idea, you know. He wanted to change you first," Remmick revealed with a hungry grin. "And who am I to deny him?"

"You're lying."

"Am I? I know everything he knows now. Every little thought. Every single memory,” he gloated. “I even know how you like to be licked." 

Remmick's words shook you to the bone. But nothing made you choke like the insinuation in Bo's follow-up. "We promise we won't bite, baby. Not unless you want us to."

That was the last thing you heard before someone else shut the door, separating you from the captivating duo once more. 

[butyoudidthis4what]

Would You Believe Me If...

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

3.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: mentions of alcohol; reference to sex; mental health issues; reader is not having a great time; reader doesn't like beer; depression; being sad for no articulable reason; self-hate; ass grab; kissing with tongue; little to no editing/proofreading; Jack being the BEST; hurt/comfort type situation (reader's brain is the hurt, Jack is the comfort)

Summary: Jack sees the sadness you're hiding from everyone and pulls you aside to talk and love on you.

AN: I was sent this ask and inspired to write whatever this is!!!! A short little fluffy comfort fic! I very much agree with that anon that Jack is very much an "On purpose. On purpose I am going to care about you" and "I never loved you on accident?" man. He would see all of you, good and bad, and still love you. I tried to give him that kind of vibe in You're Okay too and we see it here again (I hope, I don't really know what I'm doing anymore). I have absolutely zero fucking clue what the end is or where that came from but here we are friends. ALSO there is a very small Star Wars nod in here since I’m posting on May 4th! Thank you for reading!!

Jack’s eyes find you the second he hears you laugh. 

Quite literally a second because he’s always keeping an eye on you when you’re out together, not controlling or because he cares who you’re with. He just always wants to know where you are relative to him, just in case something happens and he needs to get to you. Military training, he supposes.

His eyes find you because he knows that laugh. It’s not your real laugh. It’s fake, the one you put on when you’re not super present and are hiding your sadness. To anyone else it’s very convincing, they don’t blink at it. 

He narrows his eyes a little to watch you better as you chat with McKay, Samira and Parker. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see your leg bouncing under the picnic table, can see the way you chew on the side of your cheek every so often. 

“You gonna pay attention to this conversation or just stare at your girl all day?” Robby asks Jack. Most of the crew is at a local park for a picnic celebrating Dana’s birthday.

“I’ve been paying attention and heard everything you said. Unlike you I can multitask.” Jack finally lets his eyes leave you as he turns to look back at Robby. Shen and Whitaker stifle laughs. Everyone knows it’s not true and just Jack giving Robby shit. You have to be able to multitask to be a good emergentologist, and Robby is one of the best, Jack’s told him that many times. 

“I agree though,” Jack nods at Robby. “The patient satisfaction scores are bullshit. They should automatically be a ten or whatever the highest thing on the fucking form is if they’re brough in via ambulance and survive.”

“People come in by ambulance for really stupid things that don’t really require us saving them,” Whitaker observes. 

“And people walk in with injuries they really should have come in an ambulance for,” Robby shrugs. “It would even itself out.” 

“Exactly,” Jack nods. He looks back over at you for a second and then stands up. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure you will,” Robby drawls, smirking. 

Jack ignores him as he starts walking over to you. “Hey,” he says to the group as he reaches you, sets his hands on your shoulders from behind and squeezes. You feel a little better already, just from being closer to him. The rest of the group continues chatting as he leans down to speak just to you. “Take a walk with me for a few minutes?”

You furrow your brows, tilt your head and look back a little to see him. “Um, sure. Is there a reason why? Are you sure? It seemed like you guys were having a good conversation.” You flick your head towards Robby, Shen and Whitaker. 

“I’m sure. And does there need to be a reason why I want to take a walk with my girl?” He turns his head a little more and places a soft kiss just below your ear. 

My girl. Even though you’ve been together for a while now it still makes you a little dizzy to hear. 

“No, I guess not.” You give him one of those fake smiles and he knows it’s not because you’re trying to fool him, not really, deep down you know better than to even try by this point, but because you’re in public. Have to keep up appearances. 

“Well I know not, so.” He leans back up and moves his hands from your shoulders. “I’m stealing her for a minute.” He nods at the group. It pulls some smirks but nobody says anything, they all just nod. As you get up Jack finishes off the little bit of cider left in the bottle you were nursing. 

Once you’re up Jack laces his hand with yours and leads you over to the park’s path, walks down it a ways with you in silence before pulling you off it. He walks with you on the grass until you come to a spot where the ground starts to slope down, the top of a little hill that provides a nice view of the sun setting over the city. You’re more than far away enough that nobody can hear or see you.

“What’s up?” You titter a little, clearly a bit nervous. 

Jack nods at the ground and you both sit, feet out in front of you, grass and soil dry from the heat of the day. “You were totally spaced out and not really there.” He eyes you carefully. “You’re back now, for the most part, but I wanted to see what’s up away from everyone.” 

You push your bottom lip out a little and shrug, shake your head. “I’m f-” Jack gives you a look. “I don’t even know why I bother trying,” you mutter. 

“Neither do I. But I get it. Wanting to hide it and not let me see because you know I don’t like seeing you upset. I feel the same.” He squeezes your leg gently and doesn’t press when you’re quiet for a bit as you think of what you want to say. 

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” you murmur. You already know the answer but you’re using the question as an answer itself.

“Yeah.” Jack pauses and cocks his head at you, catches your eyes and holds your gaze as he speaks. “Would you believe me if I told you it was okay not to know?” He already knows the answer but he’s using the question to tell you it’s okay. 

You let out a breath through your nose and shake your head a little as you look away from him and out at the city, Jack doing the same. “I know it is. Rationally. But the irrational side of my brain doesn’t.”

You see Jack nod out of the corner of your eye. He gives you space to think, sits in the background buzz of the park with you, hand running up and down your thigh to ground you, remind you he’s here. 

“I’m just sad.” You shrug. You aren’t teary, don’t even have the urge to cry at the moment. It’s a hollow sadness. One that just vaguely aches and makes you tired. “There’s no reason for it. Just am.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s okay too?” Again, he knows the answer but uses the question to make the point. 

“Is it though Jack?” You reply quickly. It surprises him, catches him off guard. 

He turns back to study your face, see if he can read what this is from your profile. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. 

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you continue. “Not even for me, but for you. It’s not fair to you. For me to just randomly be sad sometimes and unable to explain why. Because fuck Jack, I just want to sit here and be sad. I just want to sit here and be sad and maybe cry if I can get past whatever fucking emotional brick it is that’s stopping me from doing so. But what I don’t want is for you to have to sit here with me in it.” 

Jack lets your words hang in the air for a few seconds so that you know he’s really listening and taking them in, but not so long that it feels like he’s having to think of a response.

“It is okay. I promise you it is.” As much as he loves eye contact he knows it would be a little too much for you right now so he doesn’t push you to look at him or try to catch your gaze. “And it’s okay for us to just sit here. We can just sit in the sad. I hate seeing you be sad and struggle, yes. But sometimes you just need to sit here and feel it. And I want to be there next to you when you do. You don’t have to be okay and happy all of the time. You’re allowed to just sit here and be sad or whatever emotion you want to be. You don’t constantly have to be working towards being better when you get sad like this. We can stay here for a bit. I’m not going to let you or us unpack and move here, but we can visit sometimes. You can feel whatever it is you need to feel in front of me and with me. I want you to.”  

You let out a shaky breath. You know that what he’s saying is true. At least part of you does. But it’s so hard to accept. 

“And there are very few things in life that I have to do anymore, sweetheart.” He gives your leg a little squeeze before resuming running his hand up and down it. “You’re not holding me hostage or keeping me here against my will. I know I don’t have to sit here with you while you’re sad and don’t know why. I don’t feel like I have to. I choose to. I choose to sit next to you here in the sadness the way you do for me when I want to sit and be sad and not know why. I choose you.” 

“You should choose better.” It’s whispered. “You deserve better.” 

Jack starts shaking his head before you even finish the word better. 

“Yes, Jack, you do,” you say before he can get anything out. “Because you’ve been through so much already. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone easier to love who isn’t constantly putting you through shit like this. I know you love me, Jack, I promise. I never doubt that. But sometimes I don’t understand why you love me. Why you love me when I can be so fucking awful and all over the place and sad randomly for no reason. Do you see that Jack? Do you really see me? What you put yourself through by loving me?” 

Jack’s hand stills and squeezes your thigh again, longer this time, but still at the perfect pressure. He hurts, physically, his heart hurts seeing you like this, hearing your voice and knowing how much you mean what you’re saying. He hates it. He wishes he could take away your pain. But he can’t. All he can do is try to help and try to make you feel a little better and at the very least not let you be alone in it. 

He adjusts his position so that he’s turned toward you a bit more, the side of one of your legs and one of his pressed together. 

“Darling, the way you see and feel about yourself is not the way I see or feel about you. Just like the way I see myself and feel about myself is not the way you see or feel about me. We’re our own worst critics, as fucking cliché as that shit is. And I love you and mean this with all the love in the world, but you’re right. You can be awful at times. But the only person you’re ever awful to is yourself. Like you are right now.” You can feel tears start to form behind your eyes at that. Not because it’s mean and his words have hurt you. Because he’s right and you know it. 

He takes in a deep breath and looks out at the city for a moment before his gaze returns to you. “I don’t put myself through anything by loving you. I’m not burdened by loving you. And of course I see you, I always have,” he says with a heavy conviction. “You think I fell in love with you by accident? Or blindly? With my eyes closed?” 

You swallow thickly, can feel his eyes on you. “No.” Tears sting at your eyes now. “But still. You shouldn’t have to do this with me. I shouldn’t be work. But I am.”  

“Oh honey,” Jack breathes out softly. He takes a second and then shifts, sits a bit further up and grabs your legs, pulls them diagonal a bit and you a little closer so they can rest on top of his and you can look at each other better.   

“I need you to listen to me, yeah? Really listen.” Jack holds your face with his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones for a second while he looks you in the eyes. “Loving you is not the chore that your past has made you think it is.” He squeezes your face a little. “It’s not a chore at all. It’s a fucking privilege.” 

That gets a few tears to slide down your face and Jack’s thumbs are quick to wipe them away.

“And I know you can’t see that, and that you might never be able to see that. But it’s okay, because I do. And I will tell you it over and over and over and over until you understand why Robby tells me nicely to shut the fuck up sometimes.” He gives you the smallest knowing smirk.

You laugh at that, and it’s watery, and through your tears, but it’s real. You love the way he does that. Knows when to instill just enough lightness into this serious of a conversation to keep you grounded and from getting completely overwhelmed, but also knows when it’s not appropriate in a serious conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper through some tears and shrug at him. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jack whispers back. He leans in and kisses your forehead, lets his lips linger there before pulling them away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You have to repeat this speech a lot.”

“I know.” He says it so matter of fact as he pulls his forehead from yours to look at you better. His hands leave your face and take yours in his, fingers tangling together.

“It makes me feel really bad. Like it’s going to push you away. Or like you’re going to think I don’t trust you or your love or-”

“I don’t think that, nor will I. I understand, baby. I really do. Because I feel the same way sometimes. I don’t care that you need reassurance at times. It doesn’t make me feel like you’re questioning me, or my love, or our love. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m the problem or somehow doing something wrong or not doing enough or anything else. It makes me feel like sometimes your brain’s chemicals get a little fucked up. And you know what? So do mine. I think we’ve had this conversation at least a time or two with the roles reversed. I think you have to repeat a version of the speech I’m giving you right now a lot. And do you care?”

You shake your head gently. “No. I would give you it every day if you needed me to.” 

“Guess what?” he whispers.

“So would you?” You give him a little pout and big doe eyes that show how much you love him and it’s so adorable he has to smile a little.

“Yeah. So would I.”  

He leans back in but this time he gives you a kiss on the lips, lingers just long enough before he breaks it and nuzzles his nose against yours. You keep your eyes closed as he pulls away, a little smile on your face. You open your eyes just in time to see the nearly beaming smile it pulls from Jack. 

The two of you sit there for a few more minutes before you finally turn to look at him. “We should go back.” 

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “We can stay longer.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m ready.” Jack nods, gently moves your legs off his and stands up before holding both hands out to help you up. 

Instead of taking your hand and starting to walk back though he slips his arms around you, slides his hands in your back pockets and pulls you right up against him by your ass. He raises his eyebrows and smirks a little, a slight bobble of his head when it makes you gasp in surprise. 

His hands leave your pockets and slide up so that they’re wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. You rest your hands on his chest, look up at him knowing he wants your eye contact. Jack smiles when you give it to him. 

“I see you. I see all of you. Even the parts you don’t want me to see. The parts you’ll never show anyone else. And I did before I fell in love with you. And I still chose to jump head fucking first into being in love with you and even right now, sitting here in the sad with you, I’d make the same choice without a second thought.” One of his hands comes to hold your jaw, thumb on one side of your chin, his other four fingers on the other side, index finger right in front of your ear and the other three just below your ear and on your neck. “I choose you. All of you. Not just the you that you like and think is good enough. I choose all of you because I love all of you and I know that all of you is more than good enough. I choose you and I will always choose you and I know I’m lucky to get to make that choice. I love you.”

Jack kisses you then, hand tightening just a little to hold you still for him. They’re chaste at first but turn deeper, his tongue running over one of your lips, a silent question. You let your hands run up his chest and over his shoulders before sliding your fingers into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and open your mouth for him in silent answer, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and taste you, let you taste him. The taste of you pulls a groan from deep in Jack’s chest and you shiver. You only pull back when you’re desperate for air and Jack chases your lips with his. It makes you giggle.

You can feel him smile against your lips as he rests his forehead against yours again.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And I choose you too. I love you.”

“I know.” You feel him smile a little wider against your lips before he gives you another kiss. 

You bite your lip as he pulls away, let your eyes open back up slowly to his grin. Jack grabs your hand and leads you back towards the path.

It hits you a few steps in. “You taste like cider.”

“Yeah,” Jack nods.

“You don’t like cider. You don’t drink it.”

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs slightly. “But I was drinking beer and you hate the taste of beer. And I knew I was going to kiss you like that so when you got up from the table I finished off your cider so you wouldn’t taste the beer on me.”

You beam up at him and he just smiles, can feel your happiness. He knows it hasn’t made it all better, that you might still be sad overall, that it might linger for a while.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute until you break it. 

“They’re going to think we fucked, probably.” You smirk a little at Jack. 

“You wanna play into it?” He’s so unfazed and stoic about it. So Jack. “I can go grab some little twigs to put in your hair, a leaf, some grass.” 

You burst out laughing. Properly. Fully. Real.

“Twigs?!” For some reason him saying the word twigs is hysterical to you. 

“There’s my favorite sound,” Jack laughs with you. “Well, one of them, anyway.” 

“Oh?” You glance up at him as your laughter trails off. 

“You would have been making another one of my favorite sounds if we had in fact fucked,” he says nonchalantly, swinging your hands a little.

“Oh,” you breathe. You can feel the smirk radiating off him. “Do you have more favorite sounds?”

“Course.” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye. “You saying my name. You saying you love me.” He squeezes your hand. “And the sound of your heartbeat when I rest my head on your chest.” 

You bite your lip at that. It’s so sweet it almost makes your heart ache. “Awwwww!” You squeeze his hand and lean into him. “You’re such a romantic, pookie.” 

“Ha!” The pet name catches him by surprise. “No.” Jack shakes his head at it, but his smile gives him away.

“Pookie is cute!”

“Do you understand the actual level of shit I would get from Robby if he ever heard you call me pookie? I’d have to get a new best friend and a new job.” You giggle at him. “You’re laughing but I’m serious.” 

“I’ll go into work with you one day this week and conspire with Myrna to come up with an even better nickname than fruitcake for Robby if you’ll let me call you pookie sometimes.”

Jack stops walking and looks down at you, pretends to eye you up for a second before giving you a little smirk. “Come up with something really good that’ll drive him up a wall and I’ll consider it.”  

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

I'm so sorry but the thought of hearing him say twig just sent me at the time I wrote this. I have no idea why. Anyway, I hope this was okay and you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!!

You can find my Masterlist here for more Jack! Requests are closed while I catch up, but apparently if you just send in an ask with your thoughts about Jack I may be inspired and write something! I love chatting with you guys and likes/reblogs/replies are super appreciated and motivating!

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[almostwisegalaxy]

Geum Seong je headcanon

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

Geum Seonje doesn't like. He doesn't know how to love like others. Not gently. Not wisely. Not cleanly. With him, love comes with clenched fists, tight jaws, sleepless nights spent checking that you haven't left a message on "seen" without replying.

You are his calm obsession. You are the only place where his gaze doesn't tremble, the only name he repeats without violence. Yet, with you, it's silent chaos. He doesn't shout. He looks at you. For a long time. Until you feel like you're becoming his breath. Until you understand that he wouldn't know how to exist without you anymore.

He has never told you "I love you" — those words, he despises them. Too weak. Too commonplace. He prefers to tell you "You belong to me," and he says it like a promise, like a prayer, like a gentle threat.

Geum Seonje is loyal. Sickeningly loyal. If someone approaches you, he doesn't wait to understand. He acts. Because in his head, loving means protecting, controlling, keeping — no matter the cost. He hides you, sometimes. Not literally, but he distances you from the world. He isolates you. He creates a bubble, a small world for two, where there is only you, and nothing else deserves your attention.

Sometimes, you wanted to flee. But he felt the echo of your hesitation even before you put your foot out the door. And he looked at you. And you stayed. Because his gaze said: "I can't live without you, and you can't live without me either."

You understood that Seonje loves like one clenches a knife between their teeth: with pain, with tension, with the constant fear of hurting. But he never hurts you physically. No. He is gentle with you, terribly gentle. Too much. As if he were afraid of breaking you. Or worse, that you would understand that you could break him.

He is possessive, yes. But not in a loud way. He doesn't post your picture everywhere, he doesn't yell at you in public. He observes you. He listens to everything you say, everything you don't say. He remembers your slightest gestures. And he acts in the shadows. That person who started talking to you too much? They won't come around anymore. And you'll never know why. But he knows. And he smiles at you one evening, placing a hand on your cheek. As if it were an innocent gesture.

When you cry, he is silent. He doesn't always understand why you cry, but he stays there. And he lets you cry. He rests your forehead against his and whispers: "I'm here. I'm always here. I will always be here." And you believe those words, even when you shouldn't. Because he is sincere. He proves it to you every day, even if it's toxic, even if it's too much.

Geum Seonje doesn't know how to love freely. He loves like one suffocates, like one locks a butterfly in a crystal jar because it is too beautiful for the world. You are that butterfly. And he admires you. He protects you. But he doesn't understand that you need to fly too.

He doesn't apologize often. But when he does, it's because he saw something break in your eyes. And he can't stand that. He falls to his knees before you, literally. He takes your hand and places it on his heart, and he says: "I am yours. You do whatever you want with me, but don't leave me. Never leave me."

You know it's not healthy. You know it. But in his eyes, there is a pain that no one else sees. A flaw. A panic fear of being alone. And you tell yourself that maybe, if you stay, you can fix him. (You have a high level of survival instinct, huh? ರ⁠_⁠ರ)

But you can't. Because he doesn't want to change. He just wants to have you. To love you his way. To make you feel unique. And he succeeds. When he is there, nothing else exists. He looks at you as if the whole world were collapsing around you, and he would still remain, clinging to you.

One day, you asked him: "What if I fell in love with someone else?" He said nothing. He simply smiled. Slowly. Gently. And he replied: "You won't. You belong to me." And you never asked the question again.

Because Geum Seonje, when he loves, he consumes. And he wants to be the only fire you feel.

And somewhere, deep down, you like it. (Are you normal?)

Because he makes you feel alive. Because he made you believe that love was that: pain, fear, fusion. And that without it, nothing remains.

And maybe that's the most toxic part.

But it's also what makes you unable to leave.

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

[bybobbysbeard]

You choose the ship, just give me #13 :)

Droid, for you. The kiss meme: "Discreetly." Bucktommy, 1000 words, no warnings, mentioned canonical MCD.

Buck thought it would feel weird. Putting his dress blues on again. And it did, a little. The last time he tied this tie he was brittle, sharp and fractured behind a shell of competence. Trying to get his family through one of the worst days of their lives. Now the grief is muted, in the background where it seems to live, a tide that ebbs and flows each day. The feeling hasn’t shrunk, but Buck has grown around it, therapy and love shoring up an eroded breakwater. 

It’s been three months since Bobby’s funeral. 

He tugs on the hem of his jacket, straightening the lines of buttons. He’s found an out-of-the-way corner of the ceremony hall, trying not to draw attention to himself, but still keeping an eye on the rest of his team. Eddie is leaning against the bar, chatting with Lucy and Lena. He’s smiling, ducking his head and laughing while Lena socks him gently on the shoulder. It’s good to see him in uniform again. 

Chim is standing in one of the aisles catching up with a few of the paramedics from B shift. The hollow look in his eyes is finally starting to fade after the lack of sleep and literal running from his feelings made his already lean figure even more trim. But the last month has been better. Like Buck’s grief, Chimney’s guilt hasn’t shrunk, but he has learned to live with it. Maddie, Jee, and little Robbie have helped. 

It looks like Ravi’s gotten trapped coming back from the washroom by a few probies that Buck doesn’t recognize. He’s got a slightly panicked look on his face, so Buck should probably rescue him. And he will, soon. Definitely.

Hen is talking with Chief Simpson near the stage, her shiny new captain’s badge sparkling in the overhead lights. Karen is at her side, one hand tucked into the crook of her elbow. Denny and Mara are nearby, looking at something on Denny’s phone and laughing. They look happy, a family unit celebrating a deserved win. 

It’s such a relief to see that silver shield pinned to Hen’s chest. After Bobby, everything was unmoored. Weeks of uncertainty, Gerrard’s unwelcome presence, and of course, the Pacific Plate trying to shake them all into the ocean again. Buck knows better than to pin his hopes on something like this, but celebrating Hen’s promotion feels like it might be the first step towards a new normal. 

Buck checks his watch. Even though the ceremony is over, the hall is still packed. Considering the year the LAFD has had, it's not a surprise people are taking the excuse to chat. He pulls out his phone, bringing up his text thread with Athena, and sending off a quick message to let her know everyone is still talking, and they’re going to be late for the dinner she’s hosting in Hen’s honour.

Looking down at his phone, he doesn’t notice his visitor until warmth presses up against his arm and a low voice speaks in his ear.

“What’s a handsome guy like you doing over here, all by yourself?”

Buck can’t keep the smile off his face, but he doesn’t look up, sending a thumbs up to Athena’s unimpressed response. “Waiting for my boyfriend, and he knows muay thai, so you had better move along.”

Tommy laughs, a throaty chuckle that makes their shoulders bump together. “Well I don’t see him around anywhere, so I think I’ll take my chances.” A hand slides down to his elbow, slowly spinning Buck away from his view of the room. He pockets his phone and looks up.

Tommy’s head is tilted, scanning over Buck's face, cataloging whatever expression is there. He was pretty good at noticing when Buck was hurting or overwhelmed when they first dated, but the last two months of their second (third? Does the hook-up count?) try have turned him into an expert. He’s been a bulwark, a wall between Buck and the normal world. While Buck focused on keeping the 118 going, trying to be what each member of his team needed at all times, Tommy focused on keeping Buck afloat. 

Some days it felt like Tommy’s steady support was the only thing getting Buck out of bed in the morning. And on the nights when neither of them could sleep, they talked. About their histories, and their families. Why it cost Tommy so much to come back; why it hurt Buck so much for him to leave. 

Buck’s not sure what his face is doing at the moment, but Tommy straightens up, seemingly satisfied. He looks out over the crowd, tracking Eddie, Chim, Ravi, and Hen. “Do we need to get them moving soon?”

We.

Buck just looks at him. He’s clean shaven, cap tucked under an arm, broad shoulders filling out the seams of his dress uniform so nicely. His hair is carefully styled, curls brushed back into that thick wave Buck loves to mess up. The perfect cupid’s bow of his lips is begging for a kiss. They’re surrounded by their coworkers and hundreds of other LAFD members, but Buck chose this spot well. Tommy’s half in shadow, a wall against his back and a support pillar to his left.

Buck leans in, lightning-quick, pressing a barely-there kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

Instinctively, Tommy turns towards him, tightening the grip he has on Buck’s arm. His eyes glitter in the low light. He licks his lips, and hums. “What was that for?”

“I-I’m just happy you’re standing here with me. That’s all.”

Tommy’s hand drops down, tangling their fingers together in the shadows between their bodies. “I’m happy I’m here too, Evan.” He squeezes once before letting go. “Come on, Ravi looks like he’s about to do something desperate. I saw him eyeing the emergency exit a minute ago and I don’t feel like explaining another 118 misdemeanor to Chief Simpson just because I was nearby. I’ve already filled my quota for the year.”

Buck snorts a laugh. “I think it’s officially Hen’s job to explain those now.”

“Thank God for that.”

[heeseung64]

THAT MOMENT,

he knew he'd fallen deep.

enha drabbles catching the realisation that they fell in LOVE love with you. how did it get this far?

enhypen getting caught or having realisations. hashtag i think about this alot dot dot dot.. hashtag why am i writting scenarios like.. have i lost the plot dot dot dot..

when heeseung knew,

• "she called me by my full name." he would anxiously word out to his friends, "she never calls me that! she's mad at me and i-"

• 'since when did i began to care whether or not she's mad at me?'

• 'since when was i okay with you calling me hee?'

• heeseung knew a fear evolved towards you, it was a fear that involved you losing any interest you had in him, and it only hit him when you were distancing yourself- something you'd never usually do.

• so when he saw you leave, distance yourself away, call him by his government name? god. he realised he was so madly in love and dependent on you. he was willing to throw away his pride.

• what he didn't expect himself to do, was show up at your door in the middle of night, after subconsciously driving to your place in the fleeting thought of thinking about you.

• what he didn't expect either, was to see you eagerly waiting for him, loose clothes, messy hair and a soft frown- pulling him in before the cold gets in.

•"y/n," he'd call, tugging at your sleeves as you try to leave another conversation he'd force to have with you. he'd frown and pout, apologising until you called him by his only nickname again.

• only, did he admit that there was no going back, was when he crashed his lips into yours, pleading to stay the night.

when sunghoon knew,

• he'd find himself giggling at EVERYTHING you'd do. its not even funny but he'd start smiling at you picking lint from your sweaters, or even humming at random times.

• "you really like that song huh?" sunghoon would smile at you, getting close to your face until you'd pry away from the proximity. "i like it.." you'd answer, and your small voice would stab literal wounds into his heart. god, you're the cutest, divine thing to ever step onto this earth and it gives him giddy feels.

• he often recorded you too, taking photos and posting on his story with captions only you would know- everyone practically believed he was taken.

• so when jake borrows his phone, sunghoon meets an epiphany of sorts.

• "dude, you need to free up your storage. its almost full of photos of your girlfriend."

• 'girlfriend?' "she's not my-" "she's not? well she is super pret-" "she is." "oh well she texted y-"

• sunghoon would clear his throat, stumbling on his words as he snatches his phone out of his friends reach. "don't look on my phone anymore, or at my.. girlfriend."

• you clearly weren't aware of this, but since then, he became shameless, labelling you as his- even as boldly as him announcing it in-front of you- to which, made him so in love with your blushed reaction.

when jay knew,

• when you pointed out his habit of buying duplicates of the same thing.

• two perfumes, two bags, two shirts.. they didn't need to be matching, but he always bought it in suspiciously sized you specifically..

• "i have a toothbrush.. jay.." you remind him, as he retracts the toothbrushes he offers back, shoving it back into the grocery bag- "i have that already." "i have that already-" "this one you gave me yesterday!" you would talk back to a wall as he just stands there, quiet as he just continues to stuff your hands with countless necessities (and useless expensive things).

• and when he found you doing the same thing when we was gone- did he realise how BAD he subconsciously does it, to the point you even picked it up.

• "i bought you-" you both say at the same time, retracting the statement while awkward silence hung as the cafe music played. you both exchanged matching keychains- and jay broke a smile- something he'd rarely do if you were looking.

• "for me?" he'd chuckle, holding back the biggest grin. "of course jay!" you'd smile, and all he could do was watch you cuddle the keychain, grinning like a maniac.

• 'fuck. i'm such an idiot for you.'

• he'd be wearing the things you got him, using them proudly like he's showing off his medals. "that's cute, where'd you get it from?" someone would ask, and he'd shut it downz

• "the place burnt down."

• "this item is the last ever produced."

• he's running out of excuses- not up until "his girlfriend got it for her." jungwon had to step in, frustrated at his act.

when jake knew,

• when you're constantly over at his place, not because he lets you- because he wants you.

• big and needy, he's always picking quality time and physical affection as his love language- and the fact that you're never saying no to his plea? best thing ever.

• layla pretty much sees you everyday- even prefers you over jake, and as much as he hates to admit it- he loves the fact that you have some sort of belonging in his home.

• he just didn't realise he loved you this much, not up until-

• "jake.." jay sits down jake, clearing his throat. "are you..? perhaps.. seeing someone?"

• "why?" and jake could only choke as jay had explained the amount of hair ties, women's clothing, makeup, skincare and all even bags would be seen organised at some places in his house - like you owned a portion of it.

• "that's just y/n's stuff." he'd casually say, acting it off cooly, only when jay would sneer, "y/n... right. does she know she has it here?" like he's some creep who would steal your belongings- and, he probably has totally done that. "w-we're not like that-"

• "i'm home-" you casually interrupt shutting the door behind you. you pause at the table, catching a red-eared jake and smirked up jay- only for him to clap- pointing at you. "yeah fucking right." chuckling to himself before leaving.

•"i figured i'd come chill for the night, if that's okay jakey?" you'd ask, and he abruptly stands, taking you to his room "y-yeah.. good. g-great even." he stammers, feeling his heart thump when you'd instantly lay on his lap. falling asleep instantly.

when sunoo knew,

• when small trips for coffee eventually became late night walks.

• small hangouts here and there became mini picnics every saturday, talking about life and updating each-other on nothing special.

• everything was a date even if he denied that it was. sunoo loved the idea of dates with you- but maybe you being so casual and outgoing was what made him think he wasn't special.

• wrong. he realised these hangouts were the only thing you looked forward to when he noticed your flustered face, slipping up on a sentence you were supposed to keep a secret.

• "yeah, we can try that pottery activity some other time, don't wanna bother you this month." sunoo hazily replies on facetime. he's nervous, waiting for a reaction even. he's watching your face in the corner of his screen subtly, catching you as you pout, frowning.

• "bother me? but i clear out all my schedules just to see you.."

• "i'm not just saying yes because you always chose me to hang with.. i want to be with.." you mumble the rest as if he didn't catch on, his eyes creasing into a little smile, as if you didn't just crash his heart into a wave of epiphany.

• sunoo FOLDS immediately.

• "okay how about tomorrow?"

• "what about today in fact? dinner..? stay there. i'll get you."

• now that you said you'd even ditch priorities for him- he's not backing out on any opportunity to be with you.

when jungwon knew,

• you would never this man's real intentions or feelings. neither would he. a real suppressor of emotion.

• not until you broke his facade, and he realised that he'd been denying that tug in his heart for way too long.

• jungwon, unaware, always held a face towards you that you can distinctly tell apart from the other, bubblier- friendlier faces he gives others.

• intense, he would look at you seriously all the time! it's like he holds his breath whenever you speak, looking dead into your eyes, brows stoic and angled. don't even get started on the way he MAULS the inside of his cheek, biting at it like he's holding his tongue from breathing near you.

• he's unaware of how he devours you under his eyes.

• AND OBVIOUSLY he doesn't mean to look mean! :( he just loves looking at you. a little too much. but only now did he realise how intense it was.

• "jungwon do you hate her?" heeseung- noticing every time- would talk quietly to jungwon, as if you didn't pick it up. jungwon's eyebrows twitched, whispering to heeseung who only chuckled in response. this fueled you to only doubt your closeness- and so instead,

• you put down your cute, doe-y and expressive attitude- just, once. experimenting if anything would change.

•so when jungwon talks to you, all you could do was stare, hum. mirroring whenever he looks at you.

• GOD HE PICKED UP YOUR BEHAVIOUR FIRST THING. ITs like he stammered his words.

• you see it in the way brows twitch, eyes shaking, the corner of his lips tilt in the slightest. and he's TRYING SO HARD not to show it. "yeah. but it's nothing special, so." you reply so shortly, petty, mad - like you're no longer interested. like you're no longer interested in him at all.

• 'shit.' 'what have i done?'

• IMMEDIATELY he finds himself around you, deciphering you like you were a puzzle he was meant to code. he looks at you with glossy eyes with every chance and interaction.

• "you look like you're scared of me." you confess your notice, and he gulps- "it's more than that.." he replies, and you instantly snap. "i don't like it when you look at me like.." "like what?"

• "like you hate me."

• face FALLEN. this man is crushed. he shakes his head- "nonono-" stuttering. "i'm sorry i just really looking at you a lot imsosososorry-"

• and he knows he can't lie. the truth is right there. his hands finding a way to snake around yours.

when niki knew,

• THIS MAN IS NOTTTT NONCHALANT

• this guy thinks he has it altogether. THINKS.

• that reality came crushing down when you gave him your scarf.

• "i'm not a fucking doll. stop dressing me up." he mumbles into your scarf as you wrap him up, giggling as his mouth gets covered by your scent.

• "whatever, if you didn't like it you would've had it off by now." you'd reply and niki would huff, sighing as if you were annoying. "i will." he'd LIE.

• "yeah right you baby. get home safe, stay warm." you say, cooing to him as you shut the door, watching from your bedroom window as you watch him walk down the street.

• instinctively you pulled out your phone to record, knowing at one point he'd BREAK.

• and there he was, running around poles in the street, skipping, dancing his feet across the pavement as his hands smeared your fluffy scented wool into his airways. his eyes squinting so hard as he smiles through your scarf, giggling and twirling like he's never had a bone of serious in his LIFE.

• "SHE CALLED ME BABY." "HOLY FUCK SHE SMELLS SO GOOD."

• this took you off guard, laughing off as you KNEW it had to be sent to the gc.

• riki did not give two damns about his phone blowing up, until the next day where the boys enter his room, bright and early in the morning.

• "of course you slept with it." sunghoon would laugh, clapping as the others join in.

• riki -confused and sleepy eyed- takes a hard long look at the video, his jaw unable to close, his ears red and steaming. his first instinct was to hide that damned scarf- only to be teased.

• niki knew he had it for you. the hots. the everything. the personality. everyone believed that you fell first, the way your bubbly personality was so effortlessly displayed with your crushing towards him.

• but deep down, he knew he fell to his knees the moment he met you.

• this was just the tipping point- he never knew he was this down bad..

• "we're never gonna let this moment die, sorry.." jake would chuckle, replaying the seconds where he'd sprint out of frame, tightening your scarf around his neck.

• 'you can keep it :3' you text him in the morning.

• '.. if that's okay with you.' he'd be trembling to text, stomach churning in hopes you'd act normally to him this morning.

____________________________________________________

perm:

@nikiswifiee @ancnymcnzjy @ja4hyvn @17ericas @hoonieyun @jellyluv4eva @wheretheheckis-ssaki @hyukabean

[cosmicalily]

'hormones are high' ot8 skz headcanons by @cosmicalily | skz during your pregnancy

“give me more than just some butterflies.” - ‘juno’ by sabrina carpenter

author's note: lowkey the final entry of my little juno triology! find the previous part here x warnings: pregnancy (obviously)

hormones are high...with chris

so fucking overprepared, but in the best way possible. you don’t have to lift a finger or even think, only sleep, eat, sometimes throw up and tell him about your day. he immediately switches to work from home as soon as you tell him your news, and usually ends up working during the late hours of the night so he can spend most of the day taking care of you. already has researched the best brand of cloth diapers, the safest baby strollers and car seats and the best brands of baby food and prenatal vitamins. he practices putting on the baby carrier for his morning walks and becomes a pro before you’re even at 6 months. definitely protective, no, you’re not allowed to touch the bump, ask first, jesus christ.

hormones are high...with minho

there’s distance between you, but the comfortable kind. he’s not the type of guy to need to have his hands all over you (or your bump) constantly, but just likes to quietly observe you from a distance. even if he’s not touching you, he’s always got an eye on you, making sure you’re happy and comfortable. this doesn’t mean there’s no physical attention, though. he’s a big fan of featherlight kisses down your neck or collarbone while he cradles you from behind, letting you lean into him and distribute some of your front-heavy weight. he’ll be cooking for you regularly, reading articles on pregnancy and nutrition to make sure he’s only feeding you (and mini minho) the absolute best. overall just a very calm, supportive and protective presence throughout your pregnancy.

hormones are high...with changbin

gets so offended when you complain about how the pregnancy weight will make it harder for him to carry you everywhere, and takes it as a challenge. tells you to shut up (politely) about your concerns about the size of your bump, reminds you that you’re beautiful and literally carrying a human, and that for god’s sake, he benches double your weight anyway, of course he can still carry you from the bed to the sofa. how rude to think otherwise! he massages your back when it aches, your shoulders when they cramp and kisses your cheeks when they’re warm from your nausea. he’s committed to becoming a superdad; early mornings, gym, time outdoors. we’ll see how his plans unfold.

hormones are high...with hyunjin

oh, he goes into nesting mode instantly. starts painting pictures for the baby’s nursery, curating pinterest boards for the room’s decor, planning all sorts of mini creative projects to document each stage of your pregnancy. eventually, he settles on painting on your belly (with nontoxic paints, of course) for each month, taking photos on a film camera to have developed after you give birth. he’s anxious at times, getting worried when you complain about back pain or nausea, feeling guilty that there’s nothing he can do about it. he’s absolutely infatuated with your bump, constantly pressing kisses to it or admiring it from a distance. poor guy, he’s down bad.

hormones are high...with jisung

he’s definitely more on the anxious side, but tries to keep it toned down to avoid worrying you. googles anything and everything to make sure your pregnancy is on track, and asks so many questions at every doctor’s appointment that you have to gently remind him that you’re the one carrying the baby, not him. among his nerves, there’s a silly side to jisung that you’re thrilled the pregnancy brings out in him. he makes jokes and giggles, chatting to your bump every evening while you cuddle on the couch. makes silly songs and lullabies, and is convinced that the baby’s first word will be ‘j-one’. he’s already clingy, and the fact that you’re carrying his little human only intensifies this.

hormones are high...with felix

oh goodness, he’s so excited. tries to keep it lowkey to avoid overwhelming you, but every morning he can’t help but giggle, absolutely taken over by how overjoyed he is that he gets to go through this with you. bakes and cooks whatever your heart desires, and isn’t afraid to try whatever horrifying pregnancy craving you’re obsessed with. lots of cosy nights in spent making your little future family in the sims, planning the nursery and discussing baby names. he’s also well educated, doing as much research as he can so you don’t have to worry. so many hugs and kisses, and he’s constantly requesting for bump photos whenever he’s not at home with you.

hormones are high...with seungmin

another very gentle and comforting presence in your life. despite his usual teasing behaviour, his softer side fully blossoms during your pregnancy. still calls you stupid from time to time, but it’s okay, because you’re now carrying his future stupid. immediately switches the beans in your home coffee machine from regular to decaf, and finds the best brand of decaf coffee for you to drink, making sure you stay away from all sources of caffeine (matcha is particularly difficult for him to withdraw from you). you spend a lot of time just resting on the couch with him after a long day, letting him rest a hand gently under the swell of your belly as you talk to him (and the baby) about your day.

hormones are high...with jeongin

a million and one silly nicknames for his baby before it’s even been brought into the world. some of them are sweet, like ‘bean’ and ‘peanut’, and some are downright mortifying (‘pet sperm’ is your least favourite). he’s excited, but also remains pretty calm and tries to keep his focus on you and your wellbeing, checking up on you constantly both in person and over text to make sure you’re alright. he loves coming with you to buy baby clothes, and trust, when they arrive, they will be the best dressed at daycare! likes to keep a hand on the small of your back while you’re out in public; it makes him feel closer to your bump than holding hands does.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @heartsbyani @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts @zelinkcrossing @urlocalmultigroupfan @shuuporanglinos @lezleeferguson-120 @r1nstaaa @bibibahngg @jessxxxfwd @koiiqqqq @lenfilms @yaniblvsh @dearmini @ilovedallywinston@0sunshinecryptid0 @peskybirdysya @channieschocco - dm, comment or send an ask to be added :)

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[gracie-eilish]

YAY INBOX OPEN!!! pretty please 😣🙏🏻 experienced or clingy billie in a relationship with reader but she's shy or like touch deprived 😼😼😼

just touch me

warnings: contains smut and a wholeeee lotta kissing.. this got super fucking long lol

summary: it’s your first time hooking up with your budding situationship, billie. it’s been a minute for you so you wanna take it slow. that is until you’re met with touchy, clingy, romantic, soft billie…

The afternoon had fallen softly into a quiet, amber-tinted evening that hummed with the possibility of something intimate. Billie had come over earlier, hood up, cheeks slightly pink from the chill outside, a bag of snacks in her hand, and a sleepy smile on her face.

"Hi, mama," she smirked, walking through the doorway and burying herself in a hug. You snorted at her immediate attempt at flirting. "Hi Billie," you replied between giggles.

You had ordered takeout and half-watched a movie while sharing a blanket on the couch, while your legs tangled up beneath it and your bodies edged closer with every shared laugh.

You were still laughing at one of her dramatic reenactments of a scene she hated, when her voice softened and she leaned in, eyes sparkling.

“You’re so cute when you’re giggly,” she murmured, brushing her nose against your cheek.

The kiss that came next came naturally, like breathing. It always did. You could kiss Billie Eilish forever and never get tired of how she tasted like mint and sugar and felt like warmth. Her fingers traced your jaw, your neck, your waist, curious and slow, like she was trying to learn you all over again.

“Wanna go get cozier?” Her voice was low, kind. The kind of tone that asked a question and also whispered, only if you want to.

You nodded, and she took your hand without hesitation, leading the way with that little sideways smile of hers, the one she wore when she wasn’t quite sure what would happen next, but hoped it would be something good.

Inside your bedroom, the world narrowed to just the two of you and the soft hush of the room. The blankets were rumpled from this morning, and Billie crawled onto the bed with a sleepy smile, waiting for you to join her before reaching out her arms.

"C'mere."

You smiled and crawled into the bed beside her and it was like everything else melted away. She pulled you close, her nose brushing yours, her fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. And then she kissed you, so slowly and sweetly, like she had all the time in the world. And you melted into it, your hands finding the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the softness of her hoodie under your palms.

The kisses picked up, hungrier now. Her lips moved against yours slowly, but her hands were less patient. Still respectful, still gentle, but clearly craving more of you.

She shifted slightly, pulling you closer until you were pressed chest to chest, her hand sliding under your shirt, warm fingers skimming over your tummy.

That’s when it happened—you froze. Just for a second. Enough for her to feel the difference.

Billie pulled back, immediately attuned. “Hey love,” she whispered, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “Too much?”

You shook your head, then gave a little shrug. “I just… I haven’t done anything in a while. Not since my ex. And we broke up like a year ago. And you… You’re more experienced than me anyway.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Thank you for telling me, baby. Seriously.”

You looked up at her. “I don’t know if I want to do more tonight.”

She didn’t hesitate. “That’s totally fine, lovey. We don’t have to. We can just kiss. Or just cuddle. Or literally just lie here breathing. I’m good with all of it mama.”

That made something melt inside you.

So, for a while, that’s what you did. You kissed and held each other, Billie’s hands roaming in quiet patterns over your arms, your back, the curve of your hip. She didn’t try anything more. She was just there, gentle and warm and all yours for the night.

But the longer you kissed her, the more you felt your body shift. Something deeper stirred beneath the quiet comfort, something warmer, something wanting. Billie wasn’t rushing you. She wasn’t even asking. She was just being—soft lips at your jaw, breath warm on your neck, her fingers exploring the safe places you’d let her reach, never crossing a line unless you pulled her with you.

And maybe it was the way she murmured your name between kisses, like a promise. Or the way her hand drifted across your waist, not under your clothes this time, but pressing with reverence. Maybe it was just the way she waited—for you to meet her there.

Whatever it was, your fingers curled into her shirt and you found yourself whispering, “I think I want more.”

She paused, her breath catching just slightly. “Are you sure?” Her voice was barely audible, like she was afraid to break the moment by saying it too loudly.

You nodded, your nose brushing hers. “Yeah. With you… like this… I’m sure.”

Billie’s smile was slow and tender, and she kissed you again, deeper now. Not hurried, not demanding. Just full of meaning. Full of care. Her hands found your skin again, and this time, you didn’t freeze. You sighed, arching into her touch, letting her explore you like you were music she wanted to memorize by heart.

Everything about her was slow and warm and good—the kind of good that didn’t need to be fast or perfect. Just honest.

The air around you buzzed with anticipation, the heat between you growing gradually, sweetly. Every kiss made you ache a little more, not out of impatience but out of how much you wanted to give in to her hands, her mouth, her love.

And in that quiet, breathless space between words and touches, Billie whispered, “You’re beautiful like this, you know that?”

You smiled against her lips, your hand sliding up her back. “So are you.”

"Seriously though.. Your face is all flushed and glowy, and your lips are a little swollen... We should make out more often." You snorted at her last statement, hiding your face for a second in her shoulder.

"Noted. I'll definitely add that to our list of things we can do," you both dissolved into more giggles until they turned to just smiles.

"Are you still sure, angel? I don't want you to feel pressured in any way to do this. I know it's been a while for you, and I don't wanna rush you." You could have melted into the floor at her statement.

"Yeah, love, I'm sure. But uh.. I um.."

"You what, doll? Say the word and I'll make it happen."

"Actually... I wanna change."

"Change? Like your clothes? You know those usually come off right?" You couldn't help the snort that came out before you nodded, biting your lip shyly.

"Yes, I know that you goose. Just wait here." You kissed the corner of her mouth before scampering towards your dresser, grabbing something from the back of your top drawer, and heading to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, you slipped on a pretty matching set. A delicate, lacey set you had bought a few weeks ago with Billie in mind. This wasn't your first time having sex, far from it. However, it would be your first time with a girl you really cared about. After you and your ex-boyfriend broke up last year, you had a few flings... and then came along Billie. You just had a feeling this one... this one would work.

You stepped out of the bathroom, shutting off the light and leaning on the doorframe. Billie was still lying on her back, one arm behind her head, until she turned to look at you. The candle burning on your bathroom counter flickered behind you, framing your silhouette.

"Baby..." she barely whispered, practically bouncing as she sat up fully, her eyes never leaving you.

"You like it?" You tried to sound confident, but your nerves made your voice about seven octaves higher than you wanted. She reached a hand out softly, flicking her middle and ring fingers to beckon you closer.

"C'mere," it was barely a whisper. When you reached her, she took your hand so you could get up on the bed and straddle her hips steadily. She only let go of your hand to then run both her hands up your thighs to your waist, softly sitting there, rubbing your back a bit too.

"You, my dear," she started. "You look like Aphrodite." Her voice was soft and low, her eyes were wide and sparkly, and her breath was hitched and light.

"Oh! Oh, um," you were distracted by her wandering hands playing with your bra straps around your shoulders.

"Bils, I don't wanna ruin the moment, but um.. what exactly does she look like?" Billie fully threw her head back, cackling at your question, making you giggle a bit too.

"Sorry, doll, I didn't mean like 'oh you look like her, you both have dark hair' or whatever," she flushed a bit before continuing. "Aphrodite is the goddess of love..." she trailed off, hoping you caught her drift. There were three words she wanted to say right now, but couldn't get out quite yet.

"Let me love on you, baby girl," she whispered directly in your ear, kissing right below it, making you shiver. "I'll talk you through everything if you want, I know it's been a while for you."

"Okay," you breathed out, tilting your head back so she could continue her kisses on your skin.

"Let's get you comfy, pretty girl," Billie said between kisses before leaning back so she could help you lie down. She fluffed the pillow a bit before guiding your head down onto it and kissing your cheek.

And then your jaw..

And neck..

and collarbones...

"God, you're gorgeous," she mumbled more to herself than anything, but the red flush on your cheeks told her you heard it.

"Can I take this off?" She asked softly, tracing her fingers on the light embroidered flowers on your bra.

"Yeah, baby."

Baby. The name struck her in the gut. She had used it on you since day one. You, on the other hand, were reluctant to use such an intimate nickname with her. Sticking with love and lovey as a safe bet. Baby.

She tucked a hand behind your back a bit, looking for the clasp, when you grabbed her wrist to stop her. Confused, she leaned back, only to watch you unclasp the bra from the front, revealing your breasts to her like a precious artifact kept hidden in a box, being revealed for the first time. You sat up slightly to shimmy your bra down your shoulders and fling it to the side.

Her brows furrowed watching you, the same way her brows furrow when she's holding back tears or she's experiencing something so heart-wrenching.

She situated herself on your hips so she could lean down and kiss your breast once.. twice.. three times... until you were softly squirming under her grasp. She sucked and bit softly at your one nipple while she kneaded and played with the other in her hand.

"Bils," you gasped, eyes fluttering shut as you grasped the sheets next to you.

"Shh sh sh, I've got you, doll. You ready for more?"

You nodded, chest heaving softly. "Please.. just touch me."

Together, you slowly took off Billie's clothes, leaving her naked in front of you. You took in her perfect body for a few minutes, fingers tracing her tattoos delicately, giggling softly when she shivered from the feeling.

"As much as I adore the feeling of your hands all over me, I want this to be about you, angel." She pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then the other corner, and then directly on your lips. Your hands found their way into her dark hair, pulling slightly to keep her close.

Her hand drifted delicately down your torso until it found the waistband of your panties. She pulled away just enough to look you in the eye to silently ask for permission. You smiled softly and nodded, lifting your hips to assist her as she pulled your panties off of you.

"Alright mama, you're in complete control here, kay? If anything feels uncomfy, or you want more or less, or whatever you want, you tell me. Okay?"

"Okay." You seriously thought you were in a dream. A year ago, you were dating a loser who basically fucked you and then knocked out next to you. Forget about finding the clit, motherfucker didn't know the clit existed. And now you couldn't tell if you were on earth or in heaven because of this girl, who was showering you with love, and comfort, and patience.

You gasped softly when you felt her fingers on your clit, rubbing soft but tight circles on the bundle of nerves.

"Fuck," you whispered, letting you head fall back onto the pillow, eyes fluttering shut.

"You're so wet, baby," Billie purred into your ear, letting two fingers dip into you just at the tip. She spread your wetness around, making sure everything was lubricated before even asking if she could go all the way.

"Wait," Billie sat up immediately, a concerned look on her face. You interrupted her before she could even start to fuss.

"Want the strap.." Your voice got quieter with every word, confidence dwelling. Billie's heart swelled.

"Can I stretch you with my fingers a bit first? Maybe we do strap another night, I don't wanna hurt you."

"Billie, I trust you right now more than anything else on this planet. I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what we are. But I do know that I don't think there's another woman on the planet who will ever be as loving and patient as you are being right now. I don't want this to end tomorrow, and then I have to be uncomfortable with someone else. I wanna be uncomfy with you... You bring comfort to my discomfort. I want it with you."

The silence between you two was palpable, and Billie looked like she could cry. With a kiss to your lips and not another word, she got up and went to her dresser drawer, and pulled out her strap, fastening it to her hips.

Before she could even get back on the bed, the two of you had resumed making out, but the energy shifted once again when you flipped her over so you were on top.

Billie didn't question it, letting you do what you wanted. Like earlier, she took your hand softly so you could maneuver yourself, straddling her hips until you were sitting on top of her strap, snug up against her.

"Go as fast or as slow as you want to, okay, princess?" She said gently as you sat up on your knees, situating the dildo at your entrance. You nodded and leaned in to kiss her as you started to sink down.

Maybe an inch down, you flinched and hissed at the stretch, it had been a year after all, and your own fingers and toys just didn't do it how you needed. Billie grabbed one of your hands, letting you squeeze as hard as you needed, while the other traced soft shapes on your hip, hoping your muscles would start to relax.

You two sat like that for a bit, you up on your knees slightly sunk down on the strap, Billie holding you up, fluttering tiny kisses to your cheek and neck, both of you squeezing hands..

After a bit, you started to move again, slowly sinking further and further until you bottomed out on her, sitting directly onto her thighs.

"Shit Bils," Your voice sounded much more sexy and husky in you head, but all Billie heard was moany whines she knew would float into her dreams.

"You feelin good angelface?" You couldn't even form words once you made eye contact with her icy, hooded eyes. She was biting her lip, and her nose scrunched up a bit when you barely let out a breathy confirmation to her question.

"Need some help?" You nodded again, letting her guide your hips forward to where you were grinding down on her strap.

"Jesus Christ.." Your forehead made contact with her shoulder.

Your pain soon became pleasure, and your confidence grew. Soft rolls of your hips turned into you slowly bouncing on her strap, letting it hit her own clit perfectly.

The room became a filthy symphony of slapping skin and harmonizing moans, with just a twinkle of a creaking bed.

"You are so fucking hot, holy fuck Y/N," Billie let one of her hands creep up to your breast, pinching your nipple ever so slightly, making you groan and throw your head back in pleasure. Something primal came over her; she never wanted anyone else to ever see you like this.

"You starting to get close, doll?" she purred.

"Fuck. Yes," you responded between slams down onto the dildo. If this wasn't your first time together, Billie would have called you her little bunny about a thousand times by now. The way you so confidently and seductively took your pleasure from Billie, switching between rolling your plush hips and bouncing up and down on her.

"Wanna cum together," you gasped out, bringing your own hand to her breasts, toying with her perky untouched nipples making her cry out.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that pretty girl,"

... Naturally, you kept doing it.

Neither of you had to say anything. The flush of your skin and the increase in pitch between your moans told the other you were both close.

"Billie?"

"Yeah- fuck.. Yeah, doll?"

"Can I tell-oh my god - Can I tell you some- something?"

"Right now? Shit.."

"Uh-huh,"

She giggled a bit between her moans.

"What's up- ohhh. What's up little lady?"

"I think, " You groaned in pleasure, tightening on her strap. "I think I'm falling in l- fuckkk. Falling in love with you." You threw your head back for a second before looking back up to see Billie's face.

"Babygirl," She whined out. She couldn't even tell if it was emotions or pleasure. But the slight smirk on her face told you it was at least good.

"Y/N... I'm so in love with you."

Euphoria.

Both of you hit your climax at the same time, neither one slowing down, to drag it out as long as humanly possible, only stopping when you began to wince from overstimulation.

"Okay, okay. I've got you, I've got ya." Quickly but comfortably, she helped you sit up so she could pull out. Only for you to flop right back down into her arms.

For a few minutes, you both sat in comfortable silence, holding each other close and basking in the afterglow. Until...

"Baby?" Billie squeaked out.

"Mmm hmm?" You didn't even lift your head off her shoulder.

"Did you mean that? Are you really falling in love with me?" That made you sit up fully.

"Oh Billie.." You pushed some sweaty hair out of her face, cupping her cheek. Billie raised her hand to hold yours to her face, nuzzling into your hand.

"I've been falling in love with you since the day I met you."

With that, Billie pulled you into a kiss you swore only existed in fairytale movies. She cradled your head in her hands and kissed you so fiercely yet delicately like you were made of glass.

When she pulled away, you both smiled at each other.

"My girl..?"

"Your girl."

The two of you fell asleep that night tangled up with each other, leaving no space for air between your bodies. Not even being sweaty from sex, or hot and steamy from a quick shower, there was no breaking you two away from each other… this truly was the beginning of something beautiful for both of you.

[e-therealife]

gf!nat headcanons

type of person to show up at your house without calling first. she figures if you're not there, she's interested as to why and is now gonna wait until you are. probably inside your room within thirty seconds flat. second story? doesn't matter. idk man she's finding a way to scale walls.

probably also jumps out to scare you when you come back.

if you have work or some obligation that you don't wanna go to, she's suddenly trying out everything possible to keep you home/get you to go out with her.

"look, we can totally fake a funeral obituary. someone'll cover your shift for that. now sit down. we've gotta figure out how i tragically died." “you're telling me [literally any food you love] doesn't sound good right now? i'll buy.” doesn't even matter if she hates the food because she just needs to keep you focused on her and doesn't want you to be stressed out about 'stupid stuff.'

rummages through your closet when she's over and tries on your clothes like it's a fashion show. definitely imitates you when she does it.

"no, you totally sound like that. i'd know."

she's sleeping in her makeup all the time. also in her clothes from the day. when you guys start spending nights together, you're wiping her makeup off for her and helping her change. soon, you swear she's wearing makeup and uncomfortable clothes more often just so you'll help her (she is), but she'd never admit to it.

not the best with physical affection, so she's always trying to get you to get sleepy first so you're cuddling up to her or so she can cuddle up to you once you fall asleep.

when you wake up in the morning, she's usually already awake, likely out buying you some really greasy or sweet breakfast. if she's still sleeping when you wake up, she will die on the hill that you were the one who was being all cuddly (despite her being literally on top of you).

tries to show you soccer tricks then fucking trips over her feet and falls on her face.

"watch this," ends up being the funniest phrase you hear from her. she's not even giving up after one attempt, especially if she's not sober.

"you didn't see that."  "what are you talking about?"  "you clearly don't even know how it's supposed to look."

late to/skips class a lot, but if you let her know you're gonna be absent and need notes, she'll be there the entire time, taking everything down so attentively. she's shushing whoever tries to talk to her. 

willing to slip into classes she's not even in. jotting down everything because she doesn't know wtf is going on.

you're potentially banned from soccer games by the team because nat gets too nervous and messes up in front of you.

alright i don't smoke but i read this thing about shotgunning and oh my GOD??? YES she's doing that if you smoke. where are fics with this because hello?

probably tries to keep you away from drinking or smoking if you haven't started yet, though.

would looove roadtrips. also so a one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh person.

loves seeing you without makeup, especially if you wear it a lot. absolutely encourages you to do whatever makes you happy and loves seeing you express yourself, but she finds little moments where you're sleeping or something all barefaced so soft. she needs you to know you can be comfortable around her.

however, if you are wearing makeup, she loves those lipstick marks a kiss can leave. or if your makeup gets messy (somehow…).

modern au

she's the type of person to send like stupid cat tiktoks and be like "this is u." also says the same thing with the most ridiculous videos of people doing stupid shit.

she's ragequitting video games left and right. if you're playing together and she dies over something stupid (ESPECIALLY if she's killed by an annoying kid or something) you just hear her mic go silent as she mutes it and curses for a minute.

if someone's fighting with her in chat she's forgotten about the game entirely and you can hear her speedtyping angrily.

if you're there in person while she's playing (which she's only doing this if you actively wanna watch. she'd never ignore you to play a game.), you get to see her start swearing at her screen (her accent def comes out for this.).

"are you fuckin' fucking with me? how is this not patched?"  "did i seriously pay for this shit?" "and he's not banned? i can't call someone a prick, and he's not banned?"  "he's hacking. i know it." “aimbot.”

also if someone's making fun of you on a game (even if you suck) she's forgetting about winning and just screwing with them the entire time instead. will sacrifice getting reported for throwing to avenge you.

definitely knows like all internet jokes so she's practically speaking in another language sometimes.

SHARING HEADPHONES and she's only using wired. rejects bluetooth. embraces it when her wires get caught on everything.

author's note: alright friends. this is my first tumblr post ever. let me know if you liked it, and feel free to chat with me! i'm pretty new to tumblr lol so i really don't know what i'm doing. i've got more stuff i'm working on right now and i'm done with finals in a week sooo stay tuned for more posts!

[bonniesbluee]

you were always around the vandals whenever he was there. from riding with corky to hanging around the wife's and girlfriends whenever they all met up. in all honesty, you were part of the reason he kept interviewing, taking pictures etc. you were younger...but just as wild as the guys. he was surprised when he saw how they included you in everything. didnt make any sexual remarks or lingering looks despite the short shorts you would always wear.

he admits, he did try to ask kathy about you. trying to dig his way into knowing you more despite being too scared to talk to you. all kathy told him was that your dad used to be a vandal, died, left you with johnny and the ripe age of 20. which is a very much mature age, but you were always coddled, basically grew up with johnny and your dad before the club even started. so naturally you stuck around.

he was surprised when you come up to him in one of those meet ups. he was sitting on the grass, interrupting his conversation with zipco, you sat right next to him, knees up to your chest. "so whatcha gonna do with all this?" you asked innocently. head tilted to the side, meeting his gaze. "i dunno, maybe..." he shrugs, trying his best to appear nonchalant despite how pretty you looked. "make a movie? book." you giggle at that, shaking your head.

"i doubt anyone would be interested in these guys." you hum, your arm pressing against his. and you definitely feel the muscles in his arms. "they would be totally more interested in me." you continue, a cocky yet soft smile plastered on your face. "oh yeah? what makes you think that?" he's itching to take pictures of you, maybe this is his chance.

"that im so much more interesting than them, duh." teasingly, you stand up, posing. "'kay take a picture of me, my good angles!" you start posing, and he immediately gets to work. a big ass grin on his face as he takes several pictures. "do i look good?" you giggle.

"definitely." he breathes out, "kay kay last one!" you go closer to him, giggling like a maniac while kissing his cheek softly. you take the camera to your hands, taking a picture of the moment. he swears he almost wants to grab your neck and pin you to the grass. but he doesn't, instead he drapes his arm over your shoulders as you go through all the pictures he took.

that was a few weeks ago. now you both are inseparable.

"such a pretty lady-" he groans, his forehead pressing against the nape of your neck. his hands gripping your boobs as your face gets pressed into the pillows. "such a good girl, arent ya? takin' me like a good girl." you whine, back arching into him. "m'gonna come-" you tilt your head to the side, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you. his hand grips your jaw, closing his eyes at the feeling of you being all around him (quite literally).

he makes sure you come first, riding out your orgasm before he pulls out, white ropes of come splattering all around your ass. he sighs, kissing your forehead before pulling away. grabbing his camera, he knows you love whenever he takes of you at these times. "say cheese," he gives your ass a small spank, making you giggle. you smile, hand gently touching his chest. "cheeeeseeee." and with that, he sets the camera down before settling ontop of you.

"we better make a photo album of you soon." he whispers while brushing hair out of your face. giving your cheek a little kiss.

[magnoliaswriteatsunset]

I watched a reel showing what Zayne said after being gone for 30 days. I can’t help but wonder about something.

Imagine this:

We are the MC. We are because we customized her and the cafe can show time passing from morning to evening, then night based on the time of where we are/the server. Usually, we/MC always tells the guys/chosen love interest(s) if we are leaving. We can say good night and hello when we meet.

But something bugs me.

When we exit the game and leave for 30 days, sometimes less, sometimes more, they send messages. Try to get in touch. Search the spots we frequent. Check in on things we left behind to keep them in order and in good shape for when we return. They don’t know when we’ll come back. If we’ll ever come back. All they know how to do is wait. Wait for someone who seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet.

A thought occurred to me.

What if the reason no one can find us, and the reason no one else seems too concerned, is because in their world once we exit the game, MC, us, our avatar, the only way for us to show and give our love to the guys, ceases to exist, but are not completely erased.

The side characters are none the wiser, believing we were sent away on a classified mission or simple were too busy to socialize with their peers. However, the love interests are different. They are aware of the situation to some extent, at the least. They know us well by now. They know we wouldn’t disappear without good reason. And the threats surrounding us are ever present. But something’s off. If that were true, and we were taken by force, they know we wouldn’t go without a fight. They know we would have left traces of *something* behind. Anything. From a knocked over glass to cameras watching over Linkon. They would have found it. But no. It’s like once we step foot outside the game, out side of Destiny Cafe, we simply cease to exist.

The space itself is empty, save for the lone chair the love interests lounge in, only allowing one at a time. No staff to take your order, no customers chatting idly in the background as they sip on their drinks and eat whatever food they bought earlier, no people passing by the windows or coming in and out of the building. Just us, our love interest, and this empty space all to ourselves, playing music of our choice non-stop.

I think we forget, at times, that we have more power over this “world” than we realize. That our choices, feelings and thoughts have sway over how we perceive their world.

But what really gets me, is that it’s as though there is mutual comfort to be found.

Comforting us by easing our worries, waiting for us, the world refusing to turn unless we arrive. Comforting them by interacting with them, touching them, conversing with them, sometimes reacting to what is going on beyond the screen in eerily perfect timing, even though they don’t know what’s actually going on. They are just programmed to do so. Nothing more, nothing less.

Here’s what gets me, though.

We have all this interaction, all this time together, chatting, studying, working (while trying to act like or blatantly staring at each other), playing, or even sleeping together (literally just sleeping, like a nap with the phone on because your too exhausted to exit beforehand). Then suddenly, it’s like we’re a ghost. Gone. No one else has seen us. The only thing left is the echoes of where we once stood.

I wonder,

Do they wait in that chair, acting as though we exist beyond those cafe walls? As if they’ll find us on a walk in the park or fighting to protect Linkon? Do they sit and wait, switching out from time to time to try and see who will get to be in the cafe when you arrive?

So many questions.

Perhaps, in their world, you are the only thing that helps time move forward. Everything else feels flat and stagnant. As their whole world encompasses this small room.

Do you know?

Do you understand what they do while they wait?

Do you feel the same longing and yearning for them as they do for you?

Do you wait? For them? Or is the world around you able to keep you company? Unlike their own. At least, not the way yours does.

Will you ever get to be with them? No longer being stuck behind a screen and wall of code. Would you still love them, without that safety net? Or would it be too much for either of you to bear?

…..

I deviated a bit from where I originally planned to go but I’ll expand more on these later. What do you think? What ideas are bouncing around in that brain of yours? (I also put stuff down in the tags if your interested by it’s mostly just little note from me.

[nothanksofficer]

we are all sinners (imagine)

starring: you, remmick, and bo pairing: remmick/reader & bo/reader warnings: slight nsfw, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences word count: 1k+ list: 0.1 1.0

"because i know everything he knows now. and i want you to let us in there."

"Oh yeah, i know everything now. Even how you like to be licked. I can promise I won't bite too hard."

a/n: pls be kind. this was just a random idea. note that most of the lines are just what i vaguely remember/can find on the original script. for the most part, reader's race is up to your interpretation. bolded lines can be interpreted into any language you want

you are a budding artist who made a name for herself after becoming the town's unofficial sign maker/painter. colors were your art, and its not just how you earned your keep, but it's also how you met bo.

you and bo have been married for almost two years now (sorry lisa don't exist here...yet).

so when smoke comes in one day, asking for some supplies, help, and a new sign in need of painting, that's where you come in

you don't know the twins personally, but you trust bo. and the extra money doesn't hurt for your...future family planning

at the juke club, you and bo are a seamless team, alternating between working and partying. every time you walk by, he's always trying to pull you into his arms. Whether it's for a quick kiss or dance, he never passes on the chance

you briefly overhear the commotion at the door, followed by some singing. after getting a quick peek at the white folk, your eyes meet the banjo player's, who then gives you a wink as bo leads you away. neither of you notice remmick's eyes following you as he does

Remmick first motions at Mary. "How'd she get in?" "She here because she's family." Unconvinced, Remmick makes a show of looking at you and Bo next. "And those two?" This time, it's Smoke who answers. "They're family, too."

later on, when bo comes running over to tell you stack's been killed, you immediately want to leave. you get a really bad feeling and your gut tells you that you can't stay here. after some desperate convincing, bo agrees to get the car

"You wait right here, baby. I'll be right back before you know it," he promises, giving your forehead a kiss. Little do you know, that is the last time you will see your husband. At least the human version of him.

cornbread happens. and stack comes back to life. the entire group has to stop you from leaving to go find bo

"Let me go! I need to go after Bo!" "Careful now. You walk out there, Y/N, you might not walk back in." "I can't just sit here and do nothing! My husband is outside with those—those things!" But Smoke puts his foot down, stopping your argument in its tracks. "Bo can handle himself, Y/N. Besides, you know he wouldn't want to put you at risk either. Bo'd want you here. Inside. Where it's safe."

the group finds the 'dead' body. when sammie and smoke go to throw it outside, remmick's singing and the cheering of former friends and guests, lure you to the entrance, just enough to take a peek. (to your relief, you don't see bo anywhere near them)

after the garlic eating scene, you are left on watch duty at the main entrance. everyone else is resting, or preparing more weapons in the back. you hear gurgling form outside, and out of curiosity, you open the door, only to see cornbread tearing into the 'not-dead' body outside.

you nearly scream to warn the others. that is, until bo appears.

your first instinct is to pull him inside into safety. but...the way he swaggers past cornbread, smiling at you like nothing was wrong, made your heart stop (and not in a good way)

"Hey, baby," he grins, and for a moment, you can almost believe it's actually your husband. Keyword being, almost. "Come on outside. I got the car started for you. Let's go!" "Bo...?" The sound of flesh tearing and squelching makes you nauseous, and you take a step back. Bo frowns, but masks it with a charming smile. "What is it, Y/N?" "Cornbread...he's killing him—" "Oh, don't worry about him, baby. He's just a little hungry, is all," he says offhandedly. "Let's go." Bo winks at you, and you flinch. He's never winked like that at you before. The only one who ever has was— "Come on. I got the car all warmed up." But when you don't make a move to follow, he sighs before sauntering up to the door with a knowing look on his face. "Or...you let me back in there, and we can grab our things and head home?" Bo's eyes flash an inhuman silver as he looms over you from the doorframe. "We can even make a pit stop. Maybe even have some of our own fun on the way back."

when Remmick appears, you nearly sob, realizing this isn't your husband anymore

Still, Bo tries to convince you, nonetheless. "It's better this way, baby. So why don't you go and invite us in?" "You should listen to him, Y/N. Or listen to me. Because I know everything he knows now. And trust me, darling, he really wants you to let us in there," Remmick adds. "That's not true. Bo would never..." "Believe me, baby. I just want you to be free. Like him. Like me," Bo says almost reverently. Lovingly. As if the prospect of becoming one of them was a blessing, rather than a curse. "We can be together again. All you have to do is...Let. Us. In." "Listen to your husband now, darling. Can't you see that he—that we—just want what's best for you?" Despite Remmick's words, you can't tear your eyes away from Bo. "You're not...you're not my husband." Despite the cloudy glow in Bo's eyes, there is no hiding the hurt in them. Remmick, however, only looks at you with condescending disappointment. "Well, that's not very nice of you to say," he tsks. "You did this to him. You...you monster," you hiss. "Me? I just gave him what he wanted. Freedom. A family. In fact, this was his idea, you know. He wanted to change you first," Remmick reveals with a hungry grin. "And who am I to deny him?" "You're lying." "Am I? I know everything he knows. Every little thought. Every single memory. I even know how you like to be licked, darling." Remmick's words shake you. But it's Bo's follow-up that makes you choke. "And we promise we won't bite, baby. Not unless you want it."

a/n: and that's all i have for now. let me know if this is worth continuing. otherwise hope u enjoyed the story