#nature of his love and the gravity of the situation they were in

[ayakashiz]

Reposting this from my twitter thread because it hasn't left my head (and adding a tiny bit more).

Seen so many questionable takes lately about the ivantill kiss, and I know everyone is allowed to have different opinions and interpretations but.

No, Ivan didn’t just pretend to kiss Till for the show. And no, he wasn't trying to make Till hate him either or trying to trigger him over his implied SA to snap him into action.

I think the whole point of the scene (confirmed by the creators) is Ivan finally breaking his mask of perfection and control and giving in to his messy, all consuming feelings, being selfish for once.

Yes, by the end before the strangling starts, he appears more clear headed and now focused on the objective of manipulating the score. But he doesn't really look at it until AFTER he starts strangling Till.

The kiss itself wasn't part of the strategy, or at least not entirely something calculated. Ivan could have skipped the kiss and strangled Till right away and gotten the same result.

The fact that he kissed him AGAIN after he started strangling him, more softly and 'personal', almost like a goodbye or an apology (whether for his selfishness or for their past), tells me he wanted it.

I think a last selfish act doesn't diminish the love he had for Till, it just shows the tragedy of ALNST. Ivan is only human after all. And no matter what kind of mask he built for himself and what illusion of control he had over his life, when faced with the real, imminent possibility of losing Till, he crumbled and did something unexpected.

I have more to say about the Ivan and Sua parallels and how he finally understands her in the Confession comic etc etc but I think I've yapped enough.

I just don't like it when people try to mold the narrative because they're uncomfortable with an unconsensual kiss. It's meant to be painful and heartwrenching, a reflection on Ivan's one sided-feelings and his desperation at the moment —to be seen for the first (and last) time, to not be left behind, to convey his emotions in the only way he could when being seconds away from death.

After all the team confirmed that Ivan is clumsy with emotions and only knows to convey them in 'childish' ways (the nuzzling against his face, the picking fights with Till and teasing him).

I think some people like to think of the kiss as something purely calculated and selfless because it makes it more 'palatable', but in my opinion this take washes out Ivan's character and the flaws that make him just as human, vulnerable and complex as the rest of the cast. He was willing to throw away his life and his perfect image because he wanted something that badly.

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

tropes: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour. Gets him what he wants, opens doors, soften blows.

But sometimes, it backfires. Spectacularly.

Which is why, right now, he’s standing in front of his fuming manager, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

It’s not just Jungkook’s charm that’s making things complicated. It’s also the fact that he is famous.

He doesn’t flaunt it – never brags, never name-drops. That’s not his thing. But he’s not stupid either. His name (dare he say it) carries a bit of weight, and he’s learned how to use it. Quietly. Casually. Just enough to make things go his way.

Bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Getting chewed out by Taesung, his manager, while Jiwoo from PR watches with that tight-lipped expression that always means bad news.

Jungkook’s eyes are downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” Jungkook pleads desperately, looking back and forth between the two of them. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me?”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at Taesung, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just two months away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But Taesung doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Don’t call me crazy for it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[obito-in-disguise]

| You get hurt on a mission |

Featuring: Uzui Tengen, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Tomioka Giyuu, Iguro Obanai, Kyojuro Rengoku and Gyomei Himejima.

Uzui Tengen

He’d use humor to distract you from the pain and his lingering guilt. His confidence would mask his fear, but his sharp focus would take over as he swiftly defeats the threat and tends to you. He’d lighten the mood with teasing “That was so not flashy Y/N”

Afterward, Uzui would pamper you endlessly, trying to make up for the fact that you got hurt on his watch. He’d entertain you with dramatic stories and ensure you’re always laughing, though his eyes would betray his deep concern when he thinks you’re not looking.

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Sanemi would be furious, at the demon, the situation, and especially at you for putting yourself at risk. His worry manifests as yelling “What the hell were you thinking dipshit?!” But his hands are gentle as he carries you to safety.

As you recover, Sanemi would insist on doing everything for you. Carrying you, cleaning your wounds, and ensuring you rest. His tone might remain gruff, but his hands are uncharacteristically gentle. He might even stay awake all night to guard you.

When you open your mouth to tease him about his surprisingly caring nature, he immediately barks out "Just shut up yeah? you can't heal when you keep yabbering"

Tomioka Giyuu

You really thought you would get hurt on Giyuu's watch huh? think again. He's actually been secretly following you on your missions 😟

It's not that he doesn't trust you, he does, but he can't lose one more person. He knows you're strong. He doesn't follow you around on the smaller missions that he knows you can handle, but will absolutely be there at the mention of a Kizuki.

A Kizuki mission? Were they trying to end your life??

You have your suspicions though, how does he always magically show up when you need help the most? He simply shrugs playing it cool.

"...We must have similar schedules or something"

Iguro Obanai

Obanai would be eerily calm as he dispatches the threat. He channels his worry into efficiency, ensuring your safety first before addressing his emotions. Kaburamaru would coil around you as if to protect you, while Iguro mercilessly disposes of the threat.

As you heal, he’d be watchful, quietly ensuring your needs are met without smothering you. He might hesitate to show his softer side, but small gestures like bringing your favorite food or whispering comforting words, betray his deep care.

"Guro...I'm fine"

"No you're not Y/N! you could've gotten seriously hurt!...I could've lost you. Just call for me next time ok?"

Kyojuro Rengoku

He handles the situation with a scary seriousness you haven't seen from him before. Losing you is no joke to him, after the threat has been eliminated he returns to his usual upbeat self.

“Do not give up my flame! You will make it through this!” He’d carry you to safety with unwavering resolve, his warmth and positivity never faltering.

In recovery, he’d be by your side, cheerfully bringing you meals and checking on you constantly. Expect lots of affirmations about your strength and his love for you. “You are incredible, my love. Rest and heal, for the world needs your light!”

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei would instantly sense the gravity of the situation. Tears quietly stream down his face as he uses the full force of his immense strength to protect you and ensure you’re safe. His voice would resonate with a gentle yet deeply concerned tone so as to keep you calm “Stay with me. You’re precious to this world.”

Gyomei would be the epitome of gentle care, using his healing knowledge to treat your injuries while praying for your swift recovery. He’d craft soothing remedies and share calming mantras to ease your pain. His presence would feel like a fortress of safety, unwavering and serene, as he supports you physically and emotionally.

Someone get Giyuu a therapist.

Feel free to check out my other Demon Slayer fics and more stories!

[uno-san]

Bill Cipher Vs. Self-Hatred

Howdy y'all! Today I just wanted to go over some thoughts I had over everybody's favorite triangle that may or may not have occurred to some of you already. Naturally this will contain Book of Bill Spoilers.

To start off our little essay I thought it would be important to first sum up my thoughts on one of Bill's more complicated relationships: Stanford

Now we've all seen his dynamic with Stanford plenty of times in the show but with recent information coming from both the Book of Bill and thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com more light has been shed on the subject from both Bill's perspective and Ford's.

There's more than meets the eye when it comes to dissecting Bill's interactions and thoughts on Stanford, with the ever enlightening "EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES" making theorists scratch their heads. Within the Book of Bill are these codes and their meanings: hbh grfwru ri d gliihuhqw nlqg/ zkr zdqw wr pdnh klv sdwlhqw eolqg

eye doctor of a different kind/ who wants to make his patient blind

Qeb alzqlo pxvp/ qeobb pfmp x axv/ tfii jxhb qeb sfpflkp/ dl xtxv

The doctor says/ three sips a day/ will make the visions/ go away

Ixvvb hdwhu/ edeb eloob/ zrxogq'w gulqn/ xqohvv lwv vloob

Fussy eater/ baby billy/ wouldn't drink/ unless its silly

As well as:

Finding out that both Stanford and Bill have a genetic mutation that made them Black Sheep suggests the possibility that Bill saw a kinship within Stanford. After all, he did make the offer for Stanford to join him. No doubt being able to sympathize with Stanford's situation yet misreading his motivations, causing the rift in their once savable relationship once Bill's lies were uncovered.

Now I'll admit it was others who came up with this theory in particular, especially when drawing comparisons of how Stanford was treated and how Bill allegedly was for having a strange eye. Stanford, in some form of other, might represent how Bill was before he saw the destruction of his world by his hands. A mere outcast looking for his place in the world. To be believed rather than ridiculed or "fixed".

Self-Hatred

And now we get to the Bill we all know today:

The chaos loving and nightmare inducing three-sided maniac, who may be hiding more insecurities than he ever let on in the show, thanks to the Theraprism.

Someone far more traumatized

Who's had to convince himself to fully be the bastard he is today

But if the theory that Bill had a type of kinship with Stanford thanks to their mutations was true, then wouldn't it be possible that his relationship with someone else might represent the inner struggle with himself?

For you see, the original title of this post was...

Bill Cipher Vs. Stanley Pines

As my own theory is that Stanley Pines is what Bill decided to project his self-hatred on. Nobody can doubt that the two have similar qualities, yet as I read the Book of Bill and thisisnotawebsitedotcom I couldn't help but notice the absolute malice that Bill has for Stanley whenever he's mentioned.

There have been many opponents before that have strived to take Bill down. Whether that was the Shaman, the Anti-Cipher Society, or Time Baby, none of his interactions with them have appeared as vitriol as compared to Stanley.

Not even Stanford has this same reaction, who, by really no contest, was the closest to ever defeating Cipher by himself. Both with the gun that he near successfully killed Bill with and the secret of the barrier of Gravity Falls he refused to give up. Bill didn't even have a real interaction with Stanley until the last episode.

Yet it isn't Stanford that causes Bill to break while he's in the Theraprism. It's Stanley.

"-A resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of DENIAL AND shamelessness!"

"Self-pitying"

"Stupid"

"Smug"

"Hack Jokes"

"UNWORTHY"

Now it could be just me, but those are a lot of specific insults to fling somebody's way that you've barely interacted with. Especially if Bill credits the Twin Swap to Stanford entirely as opposed to allowing Stanley the credit.

"STEP RIGHT UP, it's time to play my FAVORITE GAME!! BOOTLEG SIXER over HERE spent a LIFETIME trying to hide his humiliations, BUT I'VE BEEN INSIDE HIS MIND, so NOW they’re ALL YOURS for the low low price of BEING MY NEW PAL! ITS SHOWTIME FOLKS, AND THE ONLY WAY TO LOSE IS TO BE NAMED STANLEY PINES!"

“SHAME:TM - IT'S THE ONE FRIEND WHO NEVER LEAVES!”

This out-of-character hatred doesn't come from the fact that Bill thought Stanley wasn't worthy, it comes from the fact that Bill sees himself in Stan. Who by all means is a lying and conniving screw up. Somebody who let his family down.

This could possibly be proven by the poem Bill had wrote about Stanley:

The whole poem suits my point but I decided to highlight the sections that caught my eye specifically. That when you put into consideration Bill's clear trauma and regret about the Euclidian Massacre, his own words can clearly be flipped back on him.

That he sees himself as a curse and a mistake. A self-made monster. Someone who's left the past behind when the loss of his home is still on his mind.

And what truly gets under Bill's skin about Stanley Pines?

"He got his life and family back.

His big break, it finally came,

Redemption from a life of shame"

Stanley got back what Bill can't.

[innerfare]

Shanks Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A random collection of Shanks relationship headcanons

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks can’t stand you at first. You get under his skin without even trying. Worse still, you don’t take his bait- you don’t bicker with him, you don’t argue, but you also don’t laugh at his jokes, and it drives him absolutely insane. He’s never met anyone he couldn’t drag down to his level and he doesn’t know what to do about that. 

You also rebuff his advances initially, and he panics because nobody rebuffs his advances. He could bed Akainu if he wanted to, he’s certain of it, so why can’t he bed you? He becomes consumed by his desire to have you, not just in his bed but in his company more generally, eating at his table and sharing a drink and some gossip with him. 

He never shuts up about you, constantly complaining to Beckman, who realizes what is going on almost immediately. Beckman doesn’t bother trying to illuminate Shanks as to the annoying predicament that is love, just laughs to himself.  

Starts writing down and rehearsing his absolute best material before he sees you. When you don’t laugh, he becomes convinced you’re withholding your laughter just to be mean to him. He almost blows a gasket when Lucky Roux tells him, “you know, Captain, maybe your sense of humor just isn’t for everyone.” 

This eventually culminates in him blowing up and kissing you one night. To his utter surprise, you kiss him back. From that point forward, the two of you are going steady, which is uncharted territory for Shanks. 

When he does finally identify your sense of humor, it’s one of his proudest moments. He’s merciless from that point forward, drawing as many laughs from your lips as possible. He'll even resort to tickling you just to hear that musical sound.

To his surprise, you relationship quickly becomes his temple. You’re the person he’s actually serious with, the person with whom he shares his fears and ambitions, with whom he is raw and vulnerable. When he has nightmares, you’ll be the one to comfort him, and when he has doubts, you’ll be the one to reassure him. 

There’s much more to him than meets the eye. He isn’t just a drunken layabout or a prankster, but a complex man with great ambition, and the foundation of your relationship is your ability to unravel these complexities. 

That being said, if he does eventually make you a little less mature, a little more petty, a little more childish, he’ll view it as one of his greatest victories. 

So dramatic. Tells you things like, “I would cease to exist if we were parted,” and, “you fill in the cracks in my soul,” and he means them 100%. Naturally you don’t realize he means them 100% until you find yourself in a life-threatening situation and he drops literally everything to rescue you, apologizing profusely for allowing a hair on your head to be harmed. It’s in that moment you realize the gravity of receiving the affection of an Emperor. 

Brings you flowers, usually a bundle of cheap supermarket flowers with a lot of different colors (he can't actually identify any of the flowers but thought they were pretty). He’s the sort to throw rocks at your window and serenade you with a guitar (he’ll sing but he’s bad at it), but only after you’re in a relationship so it makes you laugh more than it makes you swoon. 

Will order Beckman to reroute the crew’s course so far out of their way it’s comical because he wants you to try a restaurant on an island he visited a decade ago because they served your favorite food in a unique and delicious way; naturally when you get there the restaurant has closed. Shanks makes it up to you with a bowl of ramen, though. 

Got you a massive stuffed strawberry from a carnival (he lost the game but stole the prize anyway when the carnie wasn’t looking, delinquent ass boyfriend), gets very upset if he walks into your room and it’s not on your bed. Now likes to call you strawberry. Other nicknames include red panda or just panda and even my sake cup. Also refers to you in conversation as the crown jewels. 

Tipsy walks down the beach at night, your fingers intertwined, that end with him chasing you through the shallows, catching you in his arms, and spinning you around. He loves a good came of chase, or even hide and seek. Also, strip poker. 

Would never admit it, but he’s often the little spoon. He’ll collapse on top of you after a night of drinking with the boys. Also, he can’t fall asleep without a fistful of something, and since the two of you became an item, that something is usually your hair or shirt (at least to keep it SFW 😉). 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[callsigns-haze]

I love your Tyler stuff! I have so many ideas in my head I just suck at writing lol

Could you write something where tyler and reader are married and They are out filming having a good time there and the reader who normally rides in the front seat with tyler switched to go with Lilly last second so javi could join tyler and the tornado shifted out of nowhere and reader and Lilly were right in the path. Reader gets hurt from the the car flipping over and it takes awhile for the rest of the crew to find them and the whole time tyler is freaking out and almost in tears. They finally find them and you can end it how you want.

Not so cruising

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: During a storm chase, Y/N and Lilly are caught in a tornado after a last-minute seat swap, leading to a harrowing rescue by Tyler and the team, with Y/N injured but eventually safe.

Chapter Warning: Intense storm danger, car accident, and graphic descriptions of injuries.

The open road stretched out under the vast Oklahoma sky, the sun dipping low on the horizon as Y/N and Tyler cruised along, the truck’s engine humming steadily. The storm they’d been tracking all day was finally forming, and the anticipation in the air was electric. This was the thrill that had brought them together—two storm chasers with a passion for capturing nature’s most powerful and unpredictable displays.

Y/N normally rode shotgun with Tyler, the two of them an unstoppable team. But today, their crew had grown with the addition of Javi, an old friend and fellow chaser. Y/N noticed Lilly, their new meteorologist, looking a bit tense in the backseat. She decided to switch things up.

“You know what, Ty?” Y/N said with a grin. “I think I’ll keep Lilly company in the other car. Javi can ride with you.”

Tyler glanced over, surprised, but nodded. “Sure, if that’s what you want. Just be careful, okay?”

Y/N leaned in for a quick kiss before hopping out and heading over to the other SUV where Lilly was prepping her equipment. Javi climbed into the front seat of Tyler’s truck, the two men exchanging a few words before pulling away to follow the storm.

Y/N slid into the passenger seat next to Lilly, who smiled gratefully. “Thanks for joining me. I was feeling a little out of my depth with this one.”

“No problem,” Y/N replied, fastening her seatbelt. “Let’s go catch this beast.”

As they sped down the road, the sky above them began to churn. The storm had grown rapidly, dark clouds swirling ominously as lightning flashed in the distance. The radio crackled with updates from Tyler and Javi, who were just ahead, urging everyone to stay alert.

“We’ve got rotation,” Tyler’s voice came over the radio. “It’s starting to drop. Be ready to reposition.”

Lilly’s hands tightened on the wheel as she drove, following the lead vehicle closely. Y/N could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins—the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of capturing something incredible.

But as they continued, the storm suddenly shifted, the tornado’s path veering unexpectedly. Y/N looked up, her eyes widening in horror as she realized the funnel was now headed directly toward them.

“Lilly, we need to move!” Y/N shouted, her voice edged with urgency.

Lilly swerved, trying to steer the SUV out of the tornado’s path, but it was too late. The powerful winds hit them with full force, lifting the vehicle off the ground. The world outside became a blur of chaos as the SUV flipped over, tumbling violently. Y/N felt a searing pain as she was thrown against the door, her vision going dark for a moment before everything went still.

Tyler’s heart stopped when he heard the crash over the radio. Javi, sensing the gravity of the situation, immediately tried to raise Y/N and Lilly, but there was no response. Tyler’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

“Y/N, Lilly—do you copy? Y/N!” Tyler’s voice was thick with fear, almost breaking. When there was no answer, panic clawed at his chest.

“Ty, we have to go back!” Javi urged, his voice tense. “They could be in serious trouble.”

Tyler didn’t need convincing. He whipped the truck around, tires screeching on the wet pavement, and gunned it back toward where Y/N and Lilly had been. The wind howled around them, debris flying across the road as the storm raged on.

Minutes felt like hours as they raced against the tornado, Tyler’s mind filled with images of Y/N hurt—or worse. He could barely breathe, the fear suffocating him. He’d never felt so helpless, the thought of losing her driving him to the brink of despair.

Finally, they spotted the overturned SUV in a field, half-buried in mud and debris. The tornado had moved on, leaving behind a path of destruction, but Tyler’s focus was solely on the wrecked vehicle and the two people inside.

He barely registered Javi’s voice as they jumped out of the truck and ran to the SUV. Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he frantically yanked at the door, which was jammed from the impact. With Javi’s help, they managed to pry it open, revealing a grim scene inside.

Lilly was conscious, dazed but moving. She was bruised and shaken but seemed otherwise okay. Y/N, however, was slumped against the door, her face pale and a gash on her forehead bleeding steadily. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he reached out, his hands trembling.

“Y/N… Y/N, please…” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he gently cupped her face.

She stirred at his touch, her eyelids fluttering open. “Tyler…?”

Relief flooded through him so intensely that he almost collapsed. “I’m here, baby. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

Javi was already on the phone with emergency services, coordinating their location. Tyler carefully unbuckled Y/N and pulled her from the wreckage, holding her close as she winced in pain.

“Just hang on, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “Help’s on the way.”

She leaned against him, too weak to speak, but she clung to his hand as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Tyler could feel his tears welling up, but he held them back, focusing on keeping Y/N conscious and calm.

Lilly, despite her own injuries, managed to climb out of the SUV with Javi’s help. She was shaken but coherent, and she sat down on the grass beside Y/N, checking her over with what first-aid knowledge she had.

“Tyler,” Lilly said softly, her voice filled with sympathy. “She’s going to be okay. You got here in time.”

Tyler nodded, though the lump in his throat made it hard to speak. He didn’t trust himself to say anything without breaking down completely. Instead, he just held Y/N tightly, whispering reassurances and promises that everything would be okay.

The sound of approaching sirens was a welcome relief, and soon, paramedics were there, carefully taking Y/N from Tyler’s arms and loading her onto a stretcher. Tyler refused to leave her side, climbing into the ambulance with her, his hand never leaving hers.

As the ambulance sped toward the hospital, Tyler finally allowed himself to breathe. Y/N was alive, and she was going to get the care she needed. The fear that had gripped him so tightly began to ease, replaced by an overwhelming gratitude that they had found her in time.

Hours later, after what felt like an eternity in the hospital waiting room, Tyler was allowed to see Y/N. She was resting in a hospital bed, her head bandaged and her arm in a sling, but when she saw him, she managed a small, tired smile.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice weak but full of warmth.

Tyler moved to her side, sitting down and taking her hand in his. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” she admitted, wincing slightly. “But I’ll be okay. They said nothing’s broken, just a lot of bruises and a concussion.”

Tyler nodded, his eyes brimming with tears he could no longer hold back. “I was so scared, Y/N. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

She squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a comforting gesture. “I’m still here, Ty. Thanks to you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the day’s events settling over them. But now, in the safety of the hospital, with Y/N by his side, Tyler felt an immense sense of relief. They had faced the storm, and though they had come out battered and bruised, they were still together.

“I love you,” Tyler whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, her voice soft but sure. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

As they held each other close, the storm outside finally began to calm, the winds dying down as the skies cleared. The danger had passed, and now, all that mattered was that they were safe, together, and ready to face whatever came next—side by side.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

[moonstruckme]

hi! i was wondering if you could make some more bartender!sirius x reader stories! anything works really! i love love love your writing 💞

Thanks for requesting ml!

cw: attempted sa, police are called (but don't worry, everything is fine)

bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius isn’t ashamed to say he’s had his eye on you tonight. You’re a sweet-looking thing, with sparkly eyes and a big, genuine smile that you’d beamed right at him as you ordered your drink. You got your first couple from Marlene, but most recently you came up to him. You’d leaned your elbows on the bar, looked at him with those lovely eyes, and said all the pleases and thank yous and may Is that always make Sirius want to climb over the counter and hug the customers who use them. He'd have comped your drink if you weren’t clearly here with someone else. 

And that someone else seems to be infatuated with you. Appropriately so, Sirius thinks. He takes your hand to lead you over to a couch along the wall, and he nods so eagerly while you speak that it looks like his head is on a spring, and when you turn to look at something he’s pointed out he reaches over and—

“Hey!” 

Several heads turn at Sirius’ shout, but the important part is that yours does. Not before your lips close around the straw of your drink, though. Sirius doesn’t have to work to convey urgency in his expression—that comes quite naturally. He waves his hand to beckon you back to the bar.

You obey, not looking upset but rather tentative as you make your way through the crowd. Your date stands with you, but something in Sirius’ face must tip him off. He disappears towards the exit. Sirius wants to go after him and strangle the bloke with his own two hands, but he’ll have to worry about that later. 

“Don’t drink that,” he says once he thinks you’re within earshot. 

You’re not, evidently. “What?” 

“Give it here.” Sirius leans across the bar, reaching for your drink. It’s only the caution in your expression that reminds him to say, “Please.” 

You hand it over, eyebrows raising when he brings it behind the bar and immediately pours it into the sink. 

“Erm…am I going to be refunded for that?” 

Sirius shakes his head, but managing a breathless, frazzled, “Yeah.” 

He feels so far out of his depth. Nothing like this has ever happened during one of his shifts—at least, fuck, not that he knows of. Sirius isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. 

He starts by looking you in the eyes. “The bloke you were with put something in your drink.” 

Your lips part, brows twitching together. “What? No, he…” You turn your head, clearly expecting your date to be right behind you. Sirius watches your face change as you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. 

When you turn back to him, he can see the beginnings of fear in your gaze. His hand makes its way across the bar of its own accord, squeezing your wrist before tugging you gently towards the nearest barstool. 

“I saw it happen,” he says firmly. “Do you want to sit here with me for a bit?” 

“I don’t…yeah, please.” You look dazed. Understandably dazed, in Sirius’ opinion. You slide onto the stool and slouch to rest your elbows on the bar. “I don’t feel any different. I only had a sip.” 

“It might not be enough to do anything,” he agrees. “I’m not sure, honestly. But it’s probably a good idea for you not to be alone just in case, yeah?” 

You nod hesitantly. Sirius strokes a short line into the inside of your wrist, and when you look up at him those pretty eyes are wet. 

“I’m already drunk,” you say, quietly, your voice on the edge of breaking. “How am I s’posed to know if it’s working?” 

“I’m sure you’d know,” says Sirius, though honestly he’s not very sure of that himself. Guys don’t learn much about these things, not the way girls have to. “You’re alright, darling. We’ll take care of you up here, you’re totally safe. Do you mind if I phone the police?” 

Your eyes widen to glossy saucers, the true gravity of your situation seeming to sink in. 

“It’s just standard procedure,” he adds quickly. 

“Right.” You blink, sniffling. “Um, sure.” 

“Beautiful.” Sirius shoots you a smile. “Be right back. Marl,” he gets his coworker’s attention, “keep an eye on her, yeah?” 

Marlene looks confused and then intrigued as she spots you weeping at the other end of the bar, but she makes her way to you. 

Sirius’ call with the police is brief. They make him regret tossing out your drink before it could be tested, but they tell him to keep you at the bar and they’ll be there soon to question you. When he goes back inside, you look far better than he’d left you, face tearstained but dry and nursing what looks to be a plain coke topped by a mountain of cherries. 

“Blimey, did you ask for extra?” Sirius asks, taking his place in front of you. Marlene, helping a customer at the other end of the bar, shoots him a grimace that lets him know you’ve told her what happened. 

“I asked for a few,” you say, picking one of your cherries up by the stem and popping it in your mouth. “I think she feels bad for me.” 

Sirius laughs. “No, Marlene doesn’t feel bad for anyone. She probably just likes you.” 

“Really?”

“Yup. Almost as much as she hates our manager.” He winks at you. “Her latest plot is to rob him blind by way of bar napkins and maraschino cherries. But you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Your lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. You draw a line across them, pretending to zip them shut. 

“So,” you say, looking down to fish another cherry from your glass, “did you give the police my regards?”

Sirius smiles at your forehead. “I did. They said it’s been far too long, and they’d like to come here to chat with you themselves.” 

You huff a laugh. “That’s funny, you’d think they’d’ve gotten their fill of me when I was in the nick last week.” 

Sirius laughs, delighted. 

You look up with a wry smile. “Kidding,” you whisper. 

“Oh, I’m so disappointed.” He props his chin on his hand, letting his head loll to the side. “And here I was thinking you were a rebel outside the law.” 

You shrug, smile fading as the melancholy turn your night has taken seems to take you under again. “Sorry to lead you astray,” you say anyway. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” Sirius studies you. You look understandably worried, a tad wistful too, but still that same sweet girl who’d come up to order from him at the bar. “If you are concerned about the cops catching onto your jailbird alter-ego, I could always stay with you when they get here. If you want company.” 

Your expression melts into gratitude, the fretful line of your brow softening and your eyes filling with relief. They start to go shiny again. “That would be great,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, doll.” Sirius reaches across the bar, giving your hand an awkward pat. “Just don’t cry again, please? It kills me a little bit.”

[cottonlemonade]

First Kiss

Atsumu was the definition of a fool in love. He walked you home, turned to goo if you shared your lunch with him, carried your books to and from the locker, and only tolerated your cheers during his serves. You were his first and, in his mind, undoubtedly last girlfriend. So it was only natural that for your first kiss, he wanted it special. Memorable. He wanted to sweep you off your feet so that you had no other choice, but to grab him by the shirt collar for the best first kiss ever. To 17-year-old Atsumu the “sweeping off your feet”-part meant fine dining and for chronically financially challenged 17-year-old Atsumu nothing screamed fine dining quite as much as IKEA.

As a true gentleman, he insisted on paying for your meal and generously added that you could have as many beverage refills as you wanted - it didn’t matter that this came as standard with every IKEA lunch. He even splurged and got you two ¥190 pieces of authentic Swedish chocolate cake, his heart jumping out of his chest when you pushed them into the middle of the small wooden table to share. Fed and happy, you walked through the exhibit afterward, hand in hand, as if exploring an exquisite museum. While you simply enjoyed the pretty furniture, Atsumu was craning his neck to scout for the perfect location. He found it in a display of an emulated singles apartment, the bedroom of which was hidden from the usual foot traffic unless you’d venture inside to look around.

The purpose of this was twofold. One, it made it far less awkward and didn’t add any pressure being a bedroom that was neither his nor yours. A neutral zone, so to speak, while still being intimate. And two, it meant he didn’t have to spend hours tidying his room first. You both sat down on the bed in one corner, and he looked around nervously, trying to find something to fidget with so his hands had something to do other than wanting to pull you close. He grabbed one of those wooden figurines from a side table and in a moment of mushy sweetness that should never be repeated to any of his friends, he bent the figure’s arms to a wonky heart and held it up for you to admire. You smiled widely and your round cheeks turned pink. He was too tense to say anything and holding onto the figure for dear life he nudged a little closer, waiting. You realized the gravity of the situation instantly, and leaned in, too, closing your eyes. Your lips glistened with the newly applied lip gloss and he’d finally find out what it tasted like when he smooshed his face into yours. It was a lot more slippery than expected, he found. He focused on not losing his place when he began moving like he’d practiced on the back of his hand in the shower. “Tsumu.”, you laughed and pushed him off gently when he became a bit overzealous. His lips were tinted pink and glittery from the gloss. “Hold still.”, you said, and raising your hands to cup his jaw you leaned in again for a proper first kiss that left his brain fried.

request from @haikyu-mp4 for this event (Spring Lemonade Stand) - requests are still open

a/n: thank you so much for requesting 🫶🏻 peak loser behavior right there.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

-

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

[ilyrafe]

𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ✧ 𝒅. 𝒔.

pairing: drew starkey x f!reader

warnings: the smallest bit of angst, i promise!

word count: 0.8k (she smol!)

“no!”

drew gets startled by your scream and the loud thud of something breaking on the floor.

“babe?” he calls out for you, as he runs around, looking for you.

he finds you in the living room, on your knees, picking up the remains of the mugs you made. the blood on the floor alarms him instantly.

“ugh, i’m such an idiot!” you whine, on the verge of tears.

“baby, wait! let me help you.”

carefully, drew picks you up and takes you to the washroom, where he carefully cleans your injured hand.

“i broke the mugs!” you cry. “i spent an entire week making them and i broke them! and now i don’t know what to get your mom!”

“it’s okay, it was an accident, gravity just did its job.” he says, trying to lighten the mood.

“drew, i can’t show up at your mom’s house empty handed.”

it’s endearing how much you care. instead of buying something, you decided to make jodi a gift. drew once said his mom is obsessed with mugs and you wanted to give her something she would like. you were so excited and happy with your work, but now everything is ruined and your hand is injured.

he opens the cabinets looking for the first aid kit and he quickly patches you up.

“okay, all done!”

he places a soft kiss over the band-aid and then kisses your lips.

“what am i gonna do now? i don’t have the time to make another mug!”

“she’ll understand, i promise. don’t stress over this, okay?”

you sigh, defeated. you want to make a great first impression on his family, and showing up at their house without a gift is unacceptable.

“oh! you did say she liked candles, right?! i know just the place to get her the best candles! and i can even ask them to put her name on it!”

the way your face lights up when the idea crosses your mind is beyond adorable. he doesn’t like when you spend money on him or his family, but you can’t help it — you love giving gifts to people, and you do put so much thought into them.

you get out of the washroom nearly running, and drew just laughs at your antics. there’s nothing he can do to make you stop wanting to please others, really.

he hears your quick steps running around the apartment, getting your things before you leave to go to the said store.

“i’ll be back in an hour!” you announce, almost out the door.

“wait!” drew calls after you, grabbing his keys from the counter. “i’m coming with you.”

you pause, one hand on the doorknob, giving him a confused look.

“you don’t have to.”

“i know, but i want to. besides,” he smirks, stepping closer, “you might need someone to help carry the bags when you inevitably buy more than just a candle.”

you roll your eyes, but can’t help the small laugh that escapes.

“fine, but we’re sticking to the plan: just the candle.”

“sure, babe. whatever you say.”

the two of you head out together, walking down the city streets as the sun dips low in the sky. drew can’t stop sneaking glances at you, your determination to fix the situation despite your earlier frustration has him smiling to himself.

when you arrive at the candle shop, it’s like you’ve stepped into a cozy wonderland. the shelves line the walls, filled with beautifully crafted candles in every scent imaginable.

“okay, let’s find something perfect for your mom,” you say, diving into the task with laser focus.

drew follows close behind, occasionally picking up random candles to sniff, only to scrunch his nose at the overly floral or overly sweet ones.

eventually, you find it: a beautiful, hand-poured soy candle with a woodsy scent that reminds you of drew’s stories about his mom’s love for nature. better yet, the store offers custom engraving!

you request jodi’s name along with a little heart etched onto the glass jar, and the store clerk promises to have it ready in twenty minutes.

as you wait, drew pulls you aside and wraps an arm around your waist.

“see? no need to worry about it, problem solved. mom will love you, with or without a mug.”

“i still feel bad about breaking them,” you admit, leaning against him.

“accidents happen,” he reassures you, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your hip. “you care so much, and that’s what matters.”

you look up at him, your heart swelling at his words.

“you think so? i really hope she does.”

“i know so.”

why do you need people’s approval that bad, you don’t know, but you do.

by the time the candle is ready, you’re feeling much more confident. you thank the clerk profusely, admiring the elegant engraving before slipping the candle into a gift bag.

as the two of you leave the store, drew laces his fingers with yours.

“since we’re out, can i treat you to dinner?”

“i should be the one treating you to dinner.” you remark.

“as if i’m gonna let you pay for anything.” he scoffs as he grabs your hand, leading you to a nice little italian restaurant nearby.

just like that, the evening turns into an unexpected but perfect little date, reminding you why drew is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

[ponlypone]

REACHING THE UNREACHABLE

Reinhard has been alone, shouldering the extremely heavy burden of defending the world against the threat of the world. It has been said to be an otherworldly intense battle; sure, it’s hype as hell, but Tappei has yet to delve further into Reinhard’s current mental state/point of view (understandably so, because as described, Reinhard is completely absorbed in the task, and it might not be the focus rn). So as a fan, in advance, I’d like to give it a shot with my own interpretations based on what sensei has cooked (because I care a lot about my fav chara(s)’ psychology. Definitely can be proven wrong in the future tho HAHAH).

Wanna peek at what was in my brain when I drew this? I got you.

1. Reinhard vs. Witch of Envy (Satella)

- “His arms had been torn to shreds and into ribbons.”–––I really want to emphasize the gravity of his current physical condition, so I’ve been putting efforts into showing how fucked up his arms are.

- He has been swinging his sheathed sword to block off Satela’s attacks “10-20 times a second until his sweat and blood left his body as steam.”–––How tf can I draw this without making the art an absolute blur. I lack the skill to nail this bruh, but at least I wanna show how locked in bro is and how immeasurably overwhelming this situation is.

2. “A Sword Saint never loses.” –Young Heinkel

Y’know, I’ve always been wondering, why can Reinhard have such a sturdy, unwavering mentality in his role as a Sword Saint? And from the very latest chapter, it confirms something to me. Maybe aside from that he is feeling responsible for his grandma’s death; it’s because of this,

“Because the Sword Saint can’t lose. That’s what Father said.”

––Child!Reinhard to Wilhelm.

As far as I can gather, Reinhard did really respect and love Heinkel, so these words coming from his respected figure must have ingrained themselves in his brain so much to the point that they fueled his mentality to be as fixed as it is now. Emphasized, even to this day, Reinhard still seriously cares about Heinkel; that’s why I drew the panel getting brighter to the flashback image, as, in my opinion, Heinkel’s words are still as clear as the day to his current self.

An extra note from Tappei’s Q&A I found on his Twitter: Sensei said the times Reinhard spent with Heinkel when he was still a good dad were one of his happy moments from the past. That’s why the nuance has to be bright.

3. Reinhard drowning and chained down

Reinhard’s burden has always been heavy, but this time it’s extremely heavy. Though, it’s his duty as Sword Saint, and he has always been the type who is so resigned to fate. That’s why I drew him resigned, with no struggles whatsoever to even break free from the chains binding him. He kept sinking deeper because those chains are connected to these heavy burdens from the world that are not getting any lighter (they become worse instead). His arms are floating upward not because he is trying to reach out to Felt or anyone (emphasizing how he never asks for help), but simply because he doesn’t put any energy on them, so they naturally float due to the sea’s nature.

4. Felt reaching out to Reinhard

Heavily referenced from [Arc 9, Chapter 18 – “A Hundred Times More Troublesome”]

Felt has voluntarily offered the Sword Saint aid in facing Al in the ways she can. She is not helping him fight Al head-on, but she offers herself as his second backup, a safety net just in case Reinhard is taken care of and things are fucked (and they were!). Referencing that specific scene, I wrote, “––Those hands that tried to reach him.” and drew Felt stretching both of her palms because she did place both of her hands on his cheeks. Reinhard knew about this help, as it was offered before he went off to the battlefield. This is something he is aware of, which he appreciated (as he was amazed by Felt’s efforts); that’s why I drew him locking eyes with her, but at this point? He is basically occupied in a task of another realm nobody can step into; that’s why I drew his expression as a complete resignation with no hope placed on the other.

Felt, on the other hand, is as determined as ever (since, from what I’ve read, she hasn’t shown any sign of yielding). However, even her great efforts alone are far from enough. Even worse, she was held hostage as Al kept marching on with his plans. She, too, failed in stopping the bro with the cheat code. Thus, the white lines around her neck are Yae’s threads, the ones that kept her from escaping, and let’s just say that I think the close contact it has made with her skin has grazed it a bit; therefore, the faint smear of blood is especially noticeable since this is metaphorically underwater.

5. Flash image of the people that have bonds with Reinhard

I think it’s important to include them too because they are people who care for him to varying extents.

Honestly, I have only read EX 4 so I hesitated to put Ferris in … but he did look so happy when he chatted casually and had a drink with Ferris and Julius, and they seemed rather close in their times as royal guards, so yeah, I think bro deserved the ‘friend spot.’

I don’t think I need to explain his bond with Subaru. Y’all know that already.

JULIUS… DAMN IT… I totally forgor that he is STILL forgotten. Well … can’t defend my careless ass here… Let’s just say this is a little treat for bro who has gone through so much (Besides, Reinhard acknowledged, ‘Oh ya based on yall’s reactions, I believe this bro was supposed to be my bud!’) but I still think it’d be cooler if he were featured with his face glitched here (too late for me to fix rip). Anyways, I personally think Reinhard is closer to Julius than he is to Ferris. When I read them conversing, I feel like they share a similar wavelength too to some extent—maybe due to both of them having the same career and chivalry.

The people on the right—guess those who have never read the side stories won’t know. They are Carol and Grimm, the old couple who are friends with Wilhelm and Theresia and serve in House Astrea. They have been mentioned to love and care for Reinhard, and Reinhard, in return, also cares for them. They seem close, and Reinhard can act natural with them. I believe they are the ones who have been taking care of him in the absence of his family. (Maybe this kinda answers my other wonder: How can Reinhard grow to be a decent dude without anybody taking care of him? It is also mentioned in one of the side stories, ‘Reinhard has never felt abandonment’. Ah. So it might be thanks to this old couple, after all). So ofc a special spot is reserved for them!

The twins on the front are Flam and Grassis, Carol and Grimm’s granddaughters. They are also House Astrea’s servants, placed in the Astrea Family Main Residence. Reinhard had been taking care of them since they were babies, he mentioned in one of the side stories; they are already like his sisters to him; in return, these two also care greatly for their Young Master (though on usual occasions, it’s not expressed obviously).

6. Wilhelm come to rescue

Heavily referenced from [Arc 9, Chapter 28 – “A Passage of Legend”]

Wilhelm has once again made an epic comeback; ‘to turn the [Sword Saint] back into a human.’

Basically, from what I grasped, he is trying to do what he did to Theresia (taking off the Sword Saint burden) again, but this time, with Reinhard. And ho boy, he has been fighting like hell; that’s why I want to emphasize the thick blood smearing around him because he has been described as injured. Like a lot.

One of the many chains has been broken––that’s because at [Arc 9, Chapter 26–”Sword Demon vs Crimson Sakura], he has successfully defeated Yae, which naturally followed with securing Felt’s, Reinhard’s master’s safety. Yae herself is Al’s accomplice, so I depict it as one of his ways of severing one of the many problems burdening Reinhard.

But in general, I look at Wilhelm’s desire and good intent as something that’s worth the acknowledgement to break one of Reinhard’s chains, and of course it’s only one and far from significant. I also want to emphasize the huge distance between them, as he is still far from reaching Reinhard (because I don’t want to sugarcoat the little achievement compared to the grave situation), but still, the effort counts. And this is something Reinhard is unaware of, as he is too occupied dealing with what’s in front of him; that’s why I drew the previous panel of him casting his eyes down, almost completely closing them, as if resigning to the possibility that no one could have saved him and that is ‘fine’.

Why I used the word “Another sword” because again, Wilhelm is trying to ‘save’ the person dear to him with his sword instead of words. Also, I wrote “another” because I have used the first word of sword to describe Dragon Sword Reid, the one to carry on the world's duty, meanwhile, this sword Wilhelm is using is Trias, the one to carry on his own purpose.

[girlokwhatever]

⚘⋆.ೃ࿔✧*ੈ˚ ༘♡⋆❀ she loves me, she loves me not,,

part 2 ; discover me and reality

previous part - next part

paige bueckers x fem!reader (fake dating trope)

the gravity of your situation didn’t sink in until the next morning. a few of your friends messaged you during the night, some of them including girls from the basketball team. apparently bianca had posted all about it on her finsta, dissing you and paige and claiming you were a ‘cheating slut.’

you also noted quite a few missed calls and texts from bianca. you couldn’t help but read them, noticing her text demeanor is much different than how she is online. she’s practically begging you to talk to her, pleading with you to answer the phone.

you didn’t really think it all through and as soon as you read all of those messages, it hit you like a fucking bus. were you and paige going to keep this up? or was it a dumb drunk decision she made and was now regretting it?

there was only one way to find out. you didn’t want to confront her about it though, embarrassment seeping through you along with last night’s memories. you couldn’t even believe yourself, asking your best friend to be your fake girlfriend. let alone a girl you knew you had been avoiding for two months.

you groan into your pillow, letting your poor decisions rack over your head. you couldn’t deny the way your pace quickened at the thought of paige being your girlfriend, even if it wasn’t real. everyone thought it was. you push the thought away, immediately feeling quilty for thinking of your best friend that way.

you lift your head when you feel a gentle knock on your half-opened bedroom door. you see paige, standing in all her glory. she has a sweat set on, long blonde hair down and wavy, adorning her shoulders. if your heart wasn’t skipping beats before, it certainly was now.

“paige! hi!” your speech is breathless and short, shocked to see her in your apartment. you hope she didn’t catch you in your little moment, unaware of how long she’s been here. you remember that you’re half-naked under the covers, making note to keep them up and above your chest. it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before probably, but it’s different now.

“hey, i didn’t mean to wake you up or anything. jus wanted to check on you.”

“oh um, i’m good. yeah, good.” you struggle to find your words between the way she takes your breath away and how nervous you are. get it together. “how are you?”

“oh y’know, i’m good. hey i wanted to ask you something, i don’t know if you’ll really remember but.. last night bianca said something about how you and me-” she’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing, bianca’s name flashing across your screen. paige shamelessly looks, mood immediately dropping.

much like bianca never liked paige, paige never liked bianca. your best friend always felt as if you were too good for her and deserved better. she still believes that. she believes she can be your better.

your eyes linger a little longer than paige would’ve hoped, taking note of your conflicted and angered expression.

“hey, since i woke you up you should let me buy you some coffee. i can get you breakfast too.”

you ended up accepting her offer, the two of you spending a few hours together getting coffee and walking around in town. as soon as you got back to your apartment, paige’s phone started going crazy with calls from her teammates, kk in particular.

she answered, leaning against your kitchen counter and propping her phone up. it didn’t go unnoticed how she filled your space so naturally. you were really glad the new situation you found yourselves in didn’t make anything awkward between the two of you.

not yet at least.

“PAIGE- it’s real right? the news?”

“what news?”

“girl boo don’t play right now- you and princess!”

while you and paige were out, you came up with a few rules for your ‘relationship.’ one of those was that it was a sworn secret between only the two of you, no one else. it meant you’d both have to lie to your friends, even those closest to you, but you couldn’t risk a slip up. the thought of everyone finding out you plotted an entire fake relationship just to make your ex jealous horrified you— you couldn’t let her win.

“oh yeah, real stuff.” she angled her phone towards you as you packed away some minimal groceries. kk caught glimpse of you and screamed, cheering about how her ‘two favorite people are together!’

“ok so boom- you guys should come over to the team dorm tonight. we’re throwing you a couples welcoming party!”

“a what?!”

“paige girl just come. and bring your new cute girlfriend with you. we love you princess!”

“i love you kk!”

after the call ended you and paige decided to lounge around, watching a couple of movies and catching up on the latest trends. it made you happy to just have her around, finding yourself falling back into your close bond with her.

she was happy too, esthetic really. after two months of you distancing yourself and pushing her away, she was finally back to normal with you. as close to normal as you can get with your best-friend-turned-fake-girlfriend. she missed being in your apartment, rummaging through all your dvd movies she’s seen a million times already. she missed your soft blankets and the signature scent of your home that she couldn’t find anywhere else. it was everything that made you, you.

eventually the two of you had to get ready. your process was a bit longer than hers, but she still got up when you did. you tossed her a slightly nicer, more presentable outfit she left at your place after a group sleepover once. you disappeared after that, starting your own routine.

“i’m bored,” she walks into your bathroom, leaning against the counter as she watches you. you sneak a glance at her, noticing her expression.

“you can leave before me, s’not a big deal.”

“i think it’d be weird if we didn’t show up together for our inauguration party.”

“oh, right. you’re right.”

she goes silent again, watching as you put the finishing touches on your makeup and adjust your clothes. she shamelessly admires you while you’re not paying attention, entranced by the way you look. even by the way your chest rises with each breath.

“are we going to talk about it?”

“i thought we went over everything this morning?”

“no not that. i’m talking about what bianca said last night. about you and me sneaking around.” you pause, staring your own reflection in the eye. you can’t make eye contact with her out of fear you’ll give yourself away so you just pretend to touch up a spot on your chin.

“it’s nothing really. she was just paranoid. she said that about all my friends,” it wasn’t a complete lie, bianca had suspicions of each of your friends. paige though, she garnered the majority of bianca’s accusations. you couldn’t tell her she’s the reason you and bianca broke up. paige feels her heart sink a bit and she knows it’s wrong. it’s wrong to want bianca be jealous and insecure of the relationship you have with paige, at least while you two were together. but you’re not together anymore. you’re with paige now. in a sense.

“oh, alright. makes sense i guess.”

as soon as paige pushes you through the door of her dorm, party confetti and party horns are in your face. it’s loud, everyone either blowing some whistle or simply cheering. you didn’t think your new public status with paige would excite them so much.

“happy one day anniversary yall!! that we know of..” kk flashes both of you dirty looks, her way of scolding you for not telling everyone sooner. they’re oblivious to the fact that it would’ve been impossible to let this know, considering it was completely new for you and paige as well.

balloons adorn the walls and ceiling, a small cake rests on the counter, neon lights everywhere, they really went all out. there’s even a banner with your and paige’s ship name on it.

“guys..”

“our fav couple deserves nothing but the best,” azzi smiles and pats your shoulder, pulling you with her as everyone floods the kitchen. she serves you your favorite at home drink, liquid swishing as you take a swig. you were gonna need it.

“i don’t know who asked who, but one of yall just won me fifty bucks,” nika grins, showing her venmo to everyone. kk rolls her eyes, clueing that she was probably the one on the other end of that bet.

“you guys made a bet on when we’d get together?” you ask, completely unaware of why this was even a thing.

“months ago.”

paige is frozen, face red as she stands statue still. every once in awhile she’d drop a hint at her admiration for you and she really hopes no one says anything, all completely unaware you don’t actually know paige has real feelings for you. she was stressed, positive she was going to break out in a sweat.

“ok enough of that. let’s eat some cake!” she tries to avert the conversation, giving kk a warning glare and nudging nika with her elbow. she couldn’t have anything going wrong tonight. or ever, really.

amari cuts the cake, serving everyone an equal slice. everyone found a spot in the living room, you cozying up next to paige on the couch. you were sitting between her legs, back to her chest as everyone gathered.

“so how’d it happen?”

“probably during sex or something-”

“no kk, bad.” ice scolds, watching kk give her best puppy dog eyes. you couldn’t believe how over the moon everyone was about it, never having heard any romantic innuendoes connecting you to paige.

“we were just hanging out, like usual. it kinda just happened.”

“how long ago?”

“uh, a few weeks ago.”

you’re glad paige decided to take the lead on answering the questions. they came up with them like rapid fire, some of them completely random. most of those came from kk and ice though.

“well, we’re glad it finally happened. we were beginning to think paige would never do it.”

that shocks you and stills paige, both of your breaths hitching, you didn’t want to jump to conclusions about what caroline was saying but it was hard not to, it was an outright insinuation of paige having romantic feelings for you. she knew it too, not sure on how she was going to get herself out of it. nika notices paige’s expression, narrowing her eyes in her direction.

“well, it’s a shame what bianca is saying about you online. you didn’t actually cheat on her right?”

“of course she didn’t. bianca’s just a bitch.” paige’s tone is filled with malice, mood swinging at the mention of your ex. you didn’t expect such a vulgar response from her, eyebrows furrowing in mixed emotions.

“paige-”

“bianca’s an insecure person that deserves to rot alone.”

you immediately nudge her, silencing her unfiltered thoughts. you didn’t know why she was acting like this, having very seldom seen this side of her.

everyone becomes distracted quickly, giving you the opportunity to address her hostility.

“okay, chill. what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing. jus defending you. is that a problem?”

“defending me from what, paige? the ghost of christmas past?”

at that she’s silent, fully aware that you’re right. bianca isn’t here and yet she’s still saying all these things. part of paige, the irrational part, gets upset at the way you still defend bianca. the more rational side empathizes with you, understanding that you’re probably still healing.

“yeah, alright. fine. my bad.”

you figure that’s the best apology you’ll get from her so you take it. phasing back to reality around you, you notice everyone has dispersed into groups, each one louder than the next. you and paige mingle, sticking together. eventually after an hour you find yourselves alone, paige creating an invisible protective barrier around you. her aura surrounds you and you swear you can almost feel it.

“enjoying the party?” the gives you flashbacks to last night when she asked nearly the same question, when things were simple.

“it’s good. never thought i’d go to a party celebrating something i made up though. i feel bad, lying to all of them.”

“they’ll be okay.”

it’s in this moment you realize eventually this will have to end. the reality of paige’s breath fanning your face, her pulse against your own, eyes locked with yours, makes you want to sink in on yourself. this can’t last forever, eventually it’ll end. you’ll ‘break up’ and possibly lose your close friendship with all the women in the room, all the women you’ve grown to love like family.

the thought itself makes you want to pull away, you can hardly stand to look paige in the eye. you already feel the barrier she’s built around you breaking, shattering to the ground in a million pieces. you want to run and never look back, never check to see if she’s following. but you don’t, you can’t. your heart sinks, stomach dropping and you feel sick.

you realize, truthfully and honestly, that you made the wrong decision.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

UMMMM PLOT PROGRSS IDK??!!!!!

i love you guys

make good decisions!!! (cough cough celeste)

[http-tokki]

my fucking elbow!

~ levi ackerman x reader ~ tags/cw: fluff, explicit language, established relationships, canonverse. ~wc: 530

The piercing howl that rips from your throat has Levi jumping into action. Springing over his desk and across the small office, he is in the dim kitchenette a second after the cry left you. He pants as he searches for you, eyes frantically darting around the room, heartbeat quickening with each passing second until he spots you crumpled in on yourself, arms wrapped around your shaking frame, fingers gripping your elbows.

"What's happening, why are you? What's wrong?" The words spill out of him, an unfiltered stream of concern flowing between his lips.

Levi reaches you, dropping to his knees on the hard tile and grips your shoulders. He tears you upright, panic flooding his bloodstream in a cold flash. Tears line your eyes, eyebrows furrowed in pain, and teeth gritted as you hiss.

"My fucking elbow."

Levi blinks slowly, pulling away from you as the realisation sets in.

"I hit my elbow, and it really hurts." You're crying now, fat tears spilling over your cheeks as you rub your aching joint.

Levi sits back on his haunches, a smile cracking at the absurdity. You, a decorated war hero and veteran, had just screamed and carried on as if you had been fatally wounded. He had seen you rip an arrow from your thigh, patch together your slashed arm, reposition your dislocated knee without so much as a cry, and now a knock to your elbow had you seizing up and crying?!

"Stop laughing! It hurts!" you whine, weakly kicking at your laughing husband.

"I'm not laughing at you; it's just the situation," he explains, pushing your hair back from your face. "I've seen your experience worse, and this is the injury that brings you down?" it is impossible to keep the laughter from infiltrating his every word. "I'm sorry. Are you okay, my love?"

You sniff and turn away from him, still cradling your arms and sigh loudly. "You're so mean. I hope you hurt your elbow, and when you cry about this, I'll laugh at you, too!" A giggle slips through your offended facade.

Levi stands, knees popping and aching at the move against gravity and snorts at your dramatics. "I'm going to be so careful now to not hit my elbow, and you'll never get to laugh at me!"

The exchange is childish, but it feels good; it feels natural to laugh and tease in light of the world around you. These moments are few and far between, but when they do happen, you are grateful to see a side of your lover you rarely do these days. You watch as Levi turns away, walking back into his office to finish the work he had abandoned in favour of your safety, and once he is out of sight, you turn your attention back to your bruised arm. The tingling and pain have subsided, a small purple bloom, the only remnant of the torture your nervous system was under not two seconds ago; you poke the small mark to test the level of pain you would feel if you were to hit it again but are interrupted by Levi's scream from the room over.

"I just stubbed my fucking toe!"

a/n: i got to see my baby again for one last time ahhhh I lub him s much I wanna cry please levi become real and let me love you

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.” 

 It was just a kiss. 

“Green Four check.” 

 It was just a-

“Green Five check.” 

Just a-

“Green Six check.” 

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 

Simple. 

In theory. 

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 

You swallow. 

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 

I hadn’t just been a kiss. 

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 

It made a lot more sense. 

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 

They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 

Sickness bubbled in your throat. 

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 

Hank chortled. 

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 

Yeah. Now you had. 

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter. 

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed. 

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 

“Fuck.” 

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 

“How far away is the Delta?” 

“Calling in attack pattern!” 

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 

That didn’t bode well. 

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 

Good. 

But there’s so, so many of them. 

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 

Frizz.

“No…” 

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal. 

Nothing. 

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 

All you need is…

Another alarm. 

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 

A chorus of yells answer you. 

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact. 

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 

Two chances left. 

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 

Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit. 

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 

The canon doesn’t go down. 

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

.

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 

Make it look like you had a weapon. 

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 

Can’t let them take you alive. 

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull  yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

.

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 

You snort. 

He smiles. 

“Who did we lose?” 

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 

You nod. 

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 

“You pushed her away?” 

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 

You scoff. 

“You are.” He kisses you again. 

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 

You touch his cheek lightly. 

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[eddiediazbuck]

hi!! i really loved your eddie fic "home"!! chris scared of y/n leaving made me feel so 🥹🥹

would you be able to write an eddie diaz x buckley!reader fic where the reader is also a firefighter in the 118?

Thank you so much for the request!

PROTECTIVE - EDDIE DIAZ

The tension in the firehouse of Station 118 was almost palpable whenever Eddie Diaz and Y/N Buckley were in the same room. Eddie, with his charming smile and confident demeanor, seemed to effortlessly annoy Y/N, whose sharp tongue and fierce independence often clashed with his playful, flirtatious nature. The situation was complicated further by the fact that Y/N’s brother, Buck, was Eddie’s best friend and partner at the fire station.

Eddie often found himself at the Buckley apartment, where Buck and Y/N shared a living space. What was meant to be a simple arrangement for Buck and his sister often turned into a battlefield whenever Eddie was around. The playful banter between Eddie and Y/N was a source of amusement for Buck, but it was also a constant source of frustration for Y/N.

Y/N Buckley was not one to back down from a challenge. Her determination and strong will had earned her respect at Station 118, but they also meant that she and Eddie were frequently at odds. Eddie’s flirty comments, which were meant to be light-hearted and playful, often struck a nerve with her. She found his constant teasing infuriating, not realizing that beneath his jokes, Eddie was genuinely intrigued by her strong spirit.

--- --- ---

Day-to-day life at the firehouse was a mix of adrenaline-fueled action and mundane routine. The team at Station 118 was a tight-knit group, and despite their differences, they functioned as a well-oiled machine when it came to saving lives. Y/N and Eddie’s professional relationship was no exception. They might have bickered off-duty, but on the job, they had each other’s backs.

Eddie’s playful nature never missed an opportunity to tease Y/N. “Hey, Y/N, did you lose a bet with fashion today?” he quipped one morning as she walked in, her expression already showing signs of exasperation.

“Shut it, Diaz,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “You wouldn’t know fashion if it hit you in the face.”

Buck chuckled, watching the familiar exchange. “You two should just get a room,” he joked, earning a glare from his sister.

“Not in a million years,” Y/N and Eddie replied simultaneously, their voices laced with mutual disdain.

Despite their constant bickering, the rest of the team couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. There was an unspoken connection, a tension that simmered beneath the surface, hinting at something deeper than either of them was willing to admit.

--- --- ---

The day started like any other at Station 118. The team was gathered in the common area, going over the day’s schedule and cracking jokes. Eddie and Buck were engaged in a heated discussion about a recent basketball game, while Y/N sat nearby, rolling her eyes at their animated debate.

Just as the laughter echoed through the room, the alarm sounded. Instantly, everyone was on their feet, the camaraderie giving way to professional focus. They moved with practiced efficiency, each member of the team falling into their roles as they raced to the fire trucks.

“House fire reported on Elm Street,” Bobby Nash, the station captain, announced as they boarded the truck. “We’ve got reports of people trapped inside. Let’s move, people!”

Eddie and Buck exchanged a serious glance, the gravity of their mission settling in. Y/N was already geared up, her face a mask of determination. The rivalry between her and Eddie was forgotten, replaced by the urgency of the situation.

As they arrived at the scene, thick smoke billowed from the two-story house, flames licking at the windows. Neighbors stood outside, watching in horror as the fire consumed the building. The team sprang into action, their training taking over as they worked to contain the blaze and rescue the trapped occupants.

Eddie and Y/N found themselves paired up, working together to search the upper floor for any survivors. The heat was intense, and the smoke made it difficult to see, but they pressed on, determined to save anyone they could.

“Over here!” Eddie called out, spotting a faint outline through the smoke. Y/N was right behind him as they approached a closed door. They could hear faint cries for help coming from inside.

Without hesitation, Eddie kicked the door open, revealing a young woman huddled in the corner, coughing and gasping for air. Y/N rushed to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her towards the window.

“We’re getting you out of here,” she assured the woman, her voice calm despite the chaos around them.

Eddie broke the window, the glass shattering as fresh air rushed in. He and Y/N carefully helped the woman through the opening, lowering her to the ground where paramedics were waiting.

As they prepared to continue their search, a loud crack echoed through the house. The floor beneath them began to give way, and Eddie grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling her back just in time as the wood splintered and collapsed.

“We need to get out of here,” Eddie urged, his usual playful tone replaced by serious concern.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. Together, they made their way back through the smoke-filled hallway, their movements swift and coordinated. They had just reached the stairs when another loud crash sounded above them.

“Hurry!” Y/N shouted, her voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.

They descended the stairs as fast as they could, emerging from the house just as the roof caved in. The rest of the team was there to meet them, relief evident on their faces as they saw Eddie and Y/N emerge unscathed.

--- --- ---

Back at the station, the adrenaline rush began to wear off, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Y/N sat in the locker room, wiping sweat and soot from her face. She was physically and emotionally drained, the events of the day replaying in her mind.

Eddie entered, his usual swagger tempered by the day’s ordeal. He glanced at Y/N, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“You did good out there,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” she replied, her tone softer than usual. “You too.”

For a moment, the usual animosity between them was absent, replaced by mutual respect and understanding. It was a rare glimpse beneath the surface, a reminder that despite their differences, they were a team.

Eddie hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Look, I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I respect you, Y/N. You’re one hell of a firefighter.”

Y/N felt a flicker of warmth at his words, the sincerity cutting through the usual banter. “I respect you too, Eddie,” she admitted. “Even if you do drive me crazy.”

A small smile tugged at Eddie’s lips. “It’s a gift,” he said, his playful tone returning. “But seriously, I’m glad we’ve got each other’s backs out there.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie that she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge before. “Me too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

--- --- ---

Days turned into weeks, and life at Station 118 continued at its usual hectic pace. Eddie and Y/N’s relationship remained a mix of playful banter and professional respect, but there was a subtle shift in their dynamic. They still bickered, but there was a newfound understanding between them, a recognition of the bond they shared as firefighters and friends.

One evening, Buck invited Eddie over for dinner at the Buckley apartment. Y/N, unaware of the invitation, was less than thrilled to find Eddie at their doorstep when she returned home from a long shift.

“Great, just what I needed,” she muttered under her breath as she walked into the living room, finding Eddie and Buck laughing over a game on the TV.

“Hey, sis! Join us for dinner?” Buck called out, oblivious to the tension between his sister and best friend.

Y/N sighed, too tired to argue. “Fine,” she said, dropping her bag by the door and heading to the kitchen. “But I’m not cooking.”

Eddie followed her, a smirk on his face. “Need some help?” he offered, leaning against the counter.

“No,” Y/N replied curtly, opening the fridge and pulling out ingredients for a quick meal. “I’ve got it.”

Eddie watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You know, you don’t always have to be so tough,” he said quietly.

Y/N paused, surprised by his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Eddie said, stepping closer, “that it’s okay to let people in sometimes. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Y/N stared at him, the familiar irritation mixing with something else, something softer. “Why do you care?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Eddie shrugged, his gaze steady. “Because I do.”

--- --- --- 

Life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them. It was a rainy evening, and Y/N was driving home after a particularly grueling shift. Her thoughts were scattered, a mix of exhaustion and the lingering conversation she’d had with Eddie. She barely noticed the slick road and the car speeding towards her until it was too late.

The collision was violent, the impact sending her car spinning off the road. Everything became a blur of pain and darkness as she lost consciousness.

At Station 118, the alarm sounded, pulling the team from their evening routine. “Car accident on Maple and 5th,” Bobby announced as they scrambled to gear up. “Multiple vehicles involved. Let’s move!”

Eddie and Buck exchanged a glance, their usual banter absent as they focused on the task at hand. As they arrived at the scene, the sight that greeted them was chaotic. Cars were scattered, some overturned, with injured people trapped inside.

The team sprang into action, each member taking on different tasks. Eddie and Buck moved towards a badly damaged car, working to free the person trapped inside. As Eddie peered through the shattered window, his heart stopped.

It was Y/N.

“Buck, it’s Y/N!” Eddie’s voice cracked with panic as he recognized her.

Buck’s face went pale, his professional composure slipping. “We need to get her out of there,” he said urgently.

Eddie’s hands trembled as he worked to free Y/N from the wreckage, his mind racing with fear and guilt. He could see her injuries, the blood staining her clothes, and it felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

With the help of the team, they managed to extricate Y/N from the car. Eddie cradled her in his arms, his usually steady hands shaking. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice choked with emotion. “Please, stay with me.”

Buck was by his side, his face a mask of anguish as he watched his sister’s unconscious form. “We need to get her to the hospital, now,” he said, his voice tight with fear.

The paramedics took over, loading Y/N into the ambulance. Eddie and Buck rode with her, their hearts heavy with dread. The usually confident and playful Eddie was a wreck, his mind consumed with worry for the woman he realized he cared about more than he had ever admitted.

---- --- ---

The hours that followed were some of the longest and most agonizing of Eddie’s life. He and Buck sat in the hospital waiting room, the sterile environment doing nothing to calm their nerves. Eddie’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions—fear, guilt, regret. He replayed every interaction he’d had with Y/N, every teasing comment, and wished he could take back every moment of tension between them.

Buck was equally distraught, his worry for his sister palpable. “She’s strong,” he said, more to himself than to Eddie. “She’s going to make it.”

Eddie nodded, but his heart was heavy with doubt. He couldn’t shake the image of Y/N’s bloodied and broken form from his mind. The realization of how much she meant to him hit him with full force, leaving him feeling helpless and lost.

When the doctor finally emerged, both men stood up, their faces etched with anxiety. “She’s stable,” the doctor said, a note of reassurance in his voice. “She’s going to be okay, but she’s going to need time to heal.”

Relief washed over them, but the weight of the situation still lingered. Eddie felt a wave of gratitude, but also a deep sense of responsibility. He vowed to himself that he would be there for Y/N, no matter what. The playful facade he had maintained for so long was gone, replaced by a newfound resolve to be the support she needed.

“Buck,” Eddie said, turning to his friend. “You should go home and get some rest. You’ve been here all day. I’ll stay the night and make sure she’s okay.”

Buck looked at Eddie, his eyes filled with gratitude and exhaustion. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to leave her.”

“I’m sure,” Eddie replied, his tone firm yet gentle. “I’ll call you if anything changes. She’s going to need both of us when she wakes up, and you’ll be no good to her if you’re running on empty.”

Buck hesitated for a moment, then nodded, recognizing the truth in Eddie’s words. “Thanks, man,” he said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t,” Eddie said, giving Buck a reassuring smile. “We’re in this together.”

As Buck left the hospital, Eddie settled into the chair beside Y/N’s bed. He watched her sleep, his heart aching at the sight of her injuries. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

--- --- ---

Y/N’s recovery was slow and painful. She spent several days in the hospital, her body battered but her spirit unbroken. Eddie was a constant presence by her side, his usual teasing replaced by genuine care and concern.

One morning, Y/N stirred from her restless sleep, her eyes fluttering open. The sterile white ceiling of the hospital room came into focus, and as she turned her head, she saw Eddie slumped in the chair beside her bed. He was asleep, his head tilted awkwardly to one side, his expression soft and unguarded.

The sight of him there, keeping vigil through the night, sent a surge of emotions through Y/N. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, a mix of gratitude and something deeper, something she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge before. Despite their constant bickering, Eddie had been there for her when she needed him most.

Y/N’s movement stirred Eddie from his slumber. He blinked groggily, his eyes widening as he saw her awake. “Y/N,” he said, his voice thick with sleep and relief. “You’re awake.”

“Hey,” she replied, her voice raspy. “You didn’t have to stay here all night, you know.”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, the sincerity in his words touching her deeply. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Eddie reached out, taking her hand in his. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said softly. “You had us all worried.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her fingers curling around his. “I guess I gave everyone quite a scare, huh?”

“Yeah, you did,” Eddie admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. “But you’re tough. I knew you’d pull through.”

For a moment, they simply held each other’s gaze, the usual barriers between them gone. In that quiet hospital room, surrounded by the hum of machines and the scent of antiseptic, something shifted between them.

--- --- --- 

As Y/N’s recovery progressed, she and Eddie spent more time together. The hospital room became a space for honest conversations and shared vulnerabilities. Eddie’s presence was a constant comfort, his playful facade giving way to a more tender, caring side.

One evening, as the sun set outside the hospital window, Y/N turned to Eddie, her voice filled with curiosity. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

Eddie smiled, his eyes softening. “Because I care about you, Y/N. More than I realized. And I’m sorry for all the times I made things difficult between us.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I never hated you, Eddie,” she admitted quietly. “I just didn’t know how to handle you.”

Eddie chuckled, a sound that was both light and filled with emotion. “I guess I didn’t make it easy, did I?”

Y/N managed a small smile. “No, you didn’t. But I’m glad you’re here.”

--- --- --- 

Y/N’s discharge from the hospital marked the beginning of a new chapter in her life. While she was relieved to leave the sterile environment behind, the road to recovery was still long and fraught with challenges. Eddie, who had been a constant presence by her side during her hospital stay, continued to be her unwavering support.

As she settled back into the Buckley apartment, it became clear that Eddie’s concern for her had intensified. He was attentive to her every need, often to the point of being overprotective.

"Eddie, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can make my own breakfast," Y/N said one morning, gently trying to ease his worry.

Eddie was in the kitchen, meticulously preparing scrambled eggs. He looked up, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "I know you can, Y/N. But you need to rest and focus on healing. Let me take care of you."

Y/N sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You've been taking care of me non-stop since the accident. Aren't you getting tired?"

"Never," Eddie replied firmly, placing a plate in front of her. "You're more important to me than anything else."

--- --- ---

Eddie's overprotectiveness extended beyond the confines of the apartment. At work, he was constantly checking in on Y/N, ensuring she wasn't overexerting herself. This behavior did not go unnoticed by their colleagues at Station 118.

"Y/N, you okay? Need any help with that?" Eddie asked for the third time that day as she worked on a routine maintenance task.

Hen rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she passed by. "Eddie, she's fine. You've got to let her breathe a little."

Y/N shot Hen a grateful look. "Thank you, Hen. See, Eddie? I'm in good hands."

Eddie sighed but nodded, knowing his friends were right. "I just... I worry, you know?"

"We know," Chimney said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. "But you've got to trust that Y/N can handle herself. She's tougher than you give her credit for."

Despite his friends' reassurances, Eddie couldn't shake his protective instincts. Every time he saw Y/N wince or heard her sigh in discomfort, his heart clenched with worry. He knew she was strong, but the thought of losing her or seeing her hurt again was more than he could bear.

One evening, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, Y/N turned to Eddie, her expression serious. "Eddie, we need to talk."

Eddie muted the TV and faced her, his heart pounding. "What is it?"

"I appreciate everything you've done for me," Y/N began, taking his hand in hers. "But you're smothering me. I need to feel like I can do things on my own again."

Eddie looked down, guilt and concern battling within him. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

Y/N squeezed his hand. "I know. But I need to regain my independence. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself. We'll face any challenges together, but you have to give me some space."

Eddie took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "You're right. I'm sorry, Y/N. It's just... seeing you hurt, it scared me more than anything."

Y/N sighed. "I know. And I love you for caring so much. But we'll get through this together, okay?" 

Eddie's heart skipped a beat at Y/N's words. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of surprise and hope. "You love me?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't look away. "Yes, Eddie. I love you."

A rush of emotions flooded through Eddie—joy, relief, and a profound sense of gratitude. He had hoped for this moment, but hearing the words from Y/N's lips made it feel like a dream come true.

"I love you too, Y/N," Eddie said, his voice filled with sincerity. "More than I ever thought possible."

They sat there for a moment, letting the weight of their words sink in, the warmth of their love enveloping them like a cozy blanket. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the TV and the comforting presence of each other, they knew that their bond was unbreakable.

As they leaned in, their breaths mingling in the air charged with anticipation, Eddie and Y/N shared a moment that felt like the culmination of a lifetime of unspoken emotions. Their lips met in a tender, hesitant kiss—a gentle exploration that spoke volumes of their love and longing.

It was a kiss filled with a quiet intensity, a silent declaration of their deepest feelings. In that fleeting moment, the world around them faded away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace and the electricity of their connection.

Their hearts beat in sync as they melted into each other, each brush of their lips a whispered promise of forever. And as they pulled back, their eyes locked in a shared gaze filled with newfound understanding and a sense of completeness, they knew that this kiss was just the beginning of their journey together

[kitasgloves]

idk if you’ll see this and it’s low key my first time requesting but like..Dazai and chuuya with orange cat girlfriend?

I'm ready to deliver anon 💪🏻

I've discussed this with a friend before and agreed that NAKAHARA CHUUYA is a Norwegian forest cat. I don't see Chuuya as some sort of guard dog or a chihuahua (it's fucking ridiculous). Sure, he's loyal to the Port Mafia but he's a pretty independent person. Norwegian forest cats are typically aggressive and cautious around strangers but they become affectionate when they get familiar with you. And I think that is very much like Chuuya.

Now, Chuuya with an orange cat gf is an interesting pair. Usually, I view Chuuya as someone who's reserved and can depend on himself, he does not seek chaos nor prefers to get entangled in it, however, you seem to attract trouble wherever you go. Your boyfriend always finds you in ridiculous situations that end up in catastrophe.

You try to cook spaghetti for date night, the kitchen almost sets aflame. Going on a date with him at a restaurant, you two were escorted out for getting into a fight with another couple (Chuuya caught the guy ogling you, got pissed off, and tried to kill him all the while you filmed it instead of prying him off the poor guy). Celebrating your anniversary by going on a romantic camping trip with him, you two ended up getting lost from your tent while getting chased by wolves (don't worry Chuuya saved you).

Your natural curiosity was usually the cause of trouble. You seemed to love to fuck around and find out. You're fortunate that the gravity manipulator adored you or else he would've lost his patience long ago. Chuuya does think that your clumsiness and playfulness add to your charm. You were always so outgoing and bright that it was difficult to resist you.

The mafioso was cautious of you at the beginning. He was closed off and didn't engage with you, since you were just a random civilian and he was part of the Port Mafia. You would always see him at your local stores or even the park just relaxing. However, with your persistence in constantly bothering him, he was starting to see how you genuinely wanted to get along with him. He tries to get to know you while slowly letting his guard down. When he sensed no maliciousness from your intentions, Chuuya felt like he could breathe easily.

The way you tugged on his heartstrings by learning all about his preferences made him think that he had to keep you in his life. The fact that you let him be vulnerable around you solidified the moment that he fell for you. It was a long time before he confessed to you, he was afraid at first considering he has lost a lot of dear people in his life, and he wouldn't want to permanently lose you. But after pondering and mustering enough courage, he confesses to you. Chuuya was bombarded with your sweet and wet kisses all over his face, and it made his insides melt.

There are even moments where you draw out the playful side in him too. Just like cats, you and Chuuya enjoy playing around. I would see you two going on dates that involve extracurricular activities like ice skating/rollerblading, hiking, swimming, etc. I also think Chuuya would love to take you on expensive and fancy dates just to see you dolled up for the occasion. And yes, he loves to spoil you with clothes and jewelry as well.

However, I think he's a bit peeved with your eccentric taste in food combinations or music. The executive spotted you mixing chocolate with pasta (rip Italians) once and he never wanted to talk about it again. You also love sending him weird playlists that have incredibly specific names, nonetheless, he still listens to them during his spare time.

"Babe, what are you doing up there?"

Chuuya peeked up on the tall tree where you were stuck, clinging to one of the branches. You grinned down at your boyfriend. Chuuya sighs.

"You know what, don't explain"

"Catch me!"

"What? ...shit! Wait—!"

Without having enough time to activate his ability, Chuuya ended up getting squished on the pavement by his girlfriend. He groans while he feels your giggling weight on top of him.

"Baby, you could've at least waited until I activated gravity"

"Whoops, sorry. Are you hurt?"

The gravity manipulator shakes his head but you lean down to kiss him, hoping any bit of physical pain would magically go away. This makes Chuuya smile and envelope you in his arms.

"You are one silly girl, [Name]"

"Can you carry me back home?"

You batted your eyelashes at him and you know it's enough for him to yield. Oh, how can he say no to his eccentric but lovable girlfriend?

Okay, we all know and agree with the fact that DAZAI OSAMU is a black cat. He's both weird and mysterious. So, him being paired up with an orange cat gf seems natural. Black cats are perceived as intelligent and aloof so I had a feeling that you met Dazai during his time at the Port Mafia.

You were nothing but a disposable civilian who had a quirky personality. And yet this quirky personality of yours has managed to capture his heart. You always found Dazai in public places (I mean, he's always wearing dark clothes so he was easy to spot), and you often tried to strike up a conversation with him. When you found out about his suicidal tendencies, you didn't mock or scold him. Weirdly enough, you started giving him more unique ideas on how to off himself.

"Try mixing bleach with a milkshake, I heard you wouldn't even taste the bleach"

Dazai suddenly looked at you with glimmering eyes and proposed for you and him to commit double suicide. Shockingly enough, you agree. So, when you both jump into a river and Dazai ends up being alive but you haven't emerged from the water yet, his body turns cold.

"Oh shit"

He starts to frantically search for you in the water. To his relief though, you finally swam up to the surface with...is that a fish in your mouth?

"Look! I caught one while I was at the bottom of the river!"

From that day forward, Dazai has officially fallen for you. However, he doesn't confess his feelings to you yet. It was not until he left the Port Mafia and began working at the Armed Detective Agency. He hasn't seen you ever since but that doesn't mean he doesn't think of you often. He has dreamt of your face with that fish in your mouth.

The moment you reunited with him felt like destiny. He was chasing a criminal down the street with Kunikida when all of a sudden, the criminal got hit by a car. His breath hitched when he saw you stepping out of the car and rushing to see if the criminal you hit was alright. Dazai felt like he was seeing you for the first time again.

You recognized him immediately and called him by his first name, which made his heart flutter. Dazai felt like he couldn't waste another moment without telling you how he felt. So, just like back then, he offers you to jump off into a river like before in another double suicide attempt. This time, he feels glad that both of you emerged from the water.

At that moment he tells you how he loved you then and now. You tackled him into a hug which sent you both plunging into the water again. But you gave Dazai a proper kiss when you two swam back to land.

I have a feeling that Dazai loves to enable your weird behavior. He'd encourage you to try outrageous things like diabolical food combinations or bungee jumping without the rope (he swears he's not trying to kill you, okay?). He doesn't have to stress about you being harassed by other men since your logic is to behave as crazy as possible so you won't get picked on. But if some bastard persists in bothering you, all Dazai has to do is stand menacingly behind you, truly channeling his scary black cat aura. It's enough to send them away while shitting bricks.

I've mentioned before that you give Dazai suicide ideas, it's clear to him now that it's all satirical. However, when you tried to off yourself once (as a joke of course), thinking it would make your boyfriend laugh, instead he firmly grabs you by the shoulders and gazes at you intently with his black eyes that are void of light.

"Don't ever do that again"

He scared you at first and almost made you cry. Dazai felt bad and apologized to you by cuddling you and feeding you your favorite food. As much as the thought of double suicide excites him, the idea of you dying genuinely disturbs him.

Dates with him aren't expensive. He's down with strolling with you on the streets and kissing on sidewalks or going stargazing on the rooftop with your legs dangling on the edge. He adored your jokes and silly pet names that you would call him. He'd pet your head affectionately like a cat.

Dazai would often indulge in your antics. You two enjoy chasing each other all over the house or outside like cats. You love plopping on top of him and rubbing your cheek against his chest. Even though he's on the skinnier side, Dazai is strong enough to support your weight and carry you around. He too enjoys snuggling against you and stealing all your body warmth.

You two were walking home after another double suicide attempt. Both of you were soaking wet from jumping into the river. People gave you and your boyfriend weird looks as you two entered the local fast food. Dazai was fishing his pockets and chuckling before whispering to you.

"Darling, I may have lost my wallet again"

You paused mid-chew on your burger and blinked at Dazai. You smiled reassuringly at him.

"Don't worry I'll pay—"

Your stomach drops when you can't feel your wallet in your pockets. You cast Dazai a look and he immediately knows it. Both of you looked at your surroundings and back towards each other. Immediately, you and Dazai made a run for it, bolting out of the establishment with one of the employees cussing at the two of you. Dazai couldn't be happier and content spending the remainder of his existence with you like this.