#okay in MY defense this sounds like that trope 'and then it was all a dream' which it ISNT OKAY so give me another post to explain this idea

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

you have learned that the palace nymphs call you alice, a woman bound by something unknown, she who is from nowhere yet is the center of attention, the universe. king gojo's universe.

the king takes a particular liking towards you. he's much more taller than you in the space of the library. wearing distinguishable clothes that alert you that you're not talking to just anyone. the way he moves tells you everything you need to know. he's the king.

"your majesty," with embarrassment, you bow your head down, but the king makes it evident that no such attitudes like that are required with him. alone, at least.

he has been kind, too kind to let you live in the palace, granting you a room that could place marie antoniette's to shame. even the maids have noticed. they sneer behind your back, how a foreigner could ever make the king do what would only be done for a queen. but if they ever send a direct dirty look your way or do anything against you, fae king gojo has already taken care of it.

the elaborate dinners, sweet cream pastries with berries are rich. rich in care, in quality, as if you've dreamt the finest of dreams, this place is a heaven. and you see it.

king satoru treats you like no man ever has. holds your hand with the upmost respect, as if you were made of porcelain, his eyes feels like the gentle rays of light from your morning window, or the cool breeze of the night. never too much.

"stay with me," he asks of you one night, outside his balcony. your white shimmery gossamer dress, made with the most precision and care reflects among the moonlight, reminding you of the life you could live if you stay with him. the elaborate dinners, finest of goods, and the romantic attention you've always dreamed of cause you to hold your breath.

and then you wake up.

[biolumien]

heya!! Saw you had open requests. And I was wondering if you could do something with Hoshina with the trope of Opposites attract?

Like maybe reader could be shy and quiet type. Who is strangely not a fighter like he is. Reader could be a sweet civilian or something and it'd be nice to see how the rest of the characters react to their relationship. Though of course, feel free to change it as you wish. Whatever you write I'm sure it'll turn out amazing.

Feel free to ignore this if it isn't your fancy :DD

notes: ahh repeat it with me now the fic got away from me and took on a life of its own... i hope this is okay ;-;!!

cafe latte

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no content warnings necessary. i think word count: 1752

the first time you were saved by soshiro hoshina was in front of the wreckage surrounding your cafe. 

the smell of blood was overwhelming as you stepped out warily, wincing as a drop of the kaiju carcass’s acidic blood dripped onto the pavement in front of you, carving out a hole in the concrete. 

“careful!” a voice called out from somewhere above you. “it’s still not safe for civilians.” 

you watch as the vice captain of the third division, soshiro hoshina, lands deftly on the ground, sheathing his twin katanas at his back. his closed, smiling eyes crack open just a tad, and he hums, his voice muffled by his respirator. 

your eyes go wide. 

the third division was legendary among the defense force, after all, and it was soshiro hoshina in the flesh in front of you! your body seemed to move of its own accord, and--

“um–can i,” you stammer out, pulling out your notepad for taking cafe orders. “can i get your autograph?”

“huh?” hoshina wipes a bit of blood from his suit. “i mean, sure, but wouldn’t you rather get an autograph from captain ashiro? i’m sure the resell value on that is far better.” even as he said this, though, he’d reached out to sign your notepad, scribbling a haphazard signature.

“i mean–everyone likes captain ashiro,” you say nervously as hoshina hands the notepad back to you. “but—you kept the kaiju from wrecking my—my shop.” you shift your eyes to the front of your cafe, and then back to hoshina, covered in blood and still wearing his respirator mask. “so i wanted your signature specifically.” 

“oh, i see,” hoshina says. he sounds teasing. “business will be slow for a bit, though, with the cleanup. are you going to be okay?” 

“oh? i—yes, i… it’ll be fine. the cleaners usually take… two weeks, i think. so… it might be a bit slower.” 

“hmm.” hoshina hums, removing his mask. you’d seen hoshina’s face on the news, largely in the background as mina ashiro spoke on eliminating the kaiju threat—so you’d known he was handsome, but something about seeing his face in person was different. he felt more—tangible. real. 

“i’ll have to stop by some time,” hoshina says with a smile. 

“i…” you lift up your notepad to hide your face. “i-i mean… sure. i… i don’t know why you would… but—”

“think of it like me paying you back for the slow business,” hoshina says. 

“okay,” you say, your voice hitching slightly. 

[…]

business was slow the next week, as you’d told hoshina. the kaiju carcass outside was pretty bad for business, really–something about the bad vibes, or something like that. so you go through the motions, cleaning up tables, ordering new coffee beans and stock for the next few weeks when business would pick up again. it was hard work, but it was made a little easier based on the fact that there was hardly anyone in the cafe right now. 

you look outside the window, resting your elbows on the counter, sighing. looks like it’d be another slow day after all. 

you raise your head as the cafe door jingles.

“welcome to the—it’s you,” you stammer out as hoshina walks through the door. off-duty he wears fairly loose clothes, a sharp contrast to how sharply dressed he looks during press conferences. he’s dressed in a loose black jacket with a tight turtleneck, and loose pants with a pair of reasonably-fashionable looking sneakers, with a black mask over his mouth. “you really didn’t have to—”

“not like i had much better to do,” hoshina says easily, waving a hand, pulling down his mask now that he was inside. “it’s not often i get time off. and i gave you my word, so i might as well make good on it.” he walks forward, examining the cafe menu. “what’s good here?” 

“umm—the… americano, is… okay,” you say. “i… think.” “you think?” hoshina blinks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, teasingly. “does that mean you don’t know?”

“i–no, it’s–it’s good,” you say more assertively now. hoshina laughs, and your heart skips a strange beat. 

“hm… i’ll admit i don’t really drink that much coffee, so i’ll give you free reign to do whatever you think i’d like.” hoshina smiles. 

“i–that’s too much freedom,” you protest. “what if you hate it–” “i’m not gonna hate it,” hoshina says. “i came here out of my own free will after all! just go with the flow.”

so you end up making him a latte, doing a bit of latte art on the top using some cream. it’s a small fox with closed eyes and a sharp smile, and you slide it across the counter for his approval. he picks up the cup, spinning it gently–and you try not to look too hard at his hands. he hums.

“looks almost too cute to drink,” he says. “cheers, though.” he takes a long, slow sip, and you feel your heart pound in your throat as he lowers the cup. 

“is—”

“it’s good,” hoshina says with a smile. “i’ll have to keep coming back here. i can’t believe i’ve missed out on this place.” 

[…]

he just… keeps coming back during his off duty hours, dressed sharply and plainly each time. you make him new animals in his lattes—cats, dogs, bunnies, mostly cats and foxes. 

a few times you attempt a very crazy looking kaiju, but by the time you hand over the cup it’s deflated already, and you slide over the drink with shame on your face and he just laughs, and you try not to think about the fact that his fingers brushed against yours as he takes the cup each time. 

you learn a bit more about him each time, but it’s mostly surface level things. how his day’s going, what’s annoying him—mostly what’s annoying him, but said in a conversationally light way. 

but he asks a lot of questions about you. favorite color, animal, food—innocuous at first, down to grittier questions about good memories, lasting regrets and the like. 

you answer to the best of your ability, hesitantly and nervously each time. 

“not that i don’t… appreciate the conversation, but…” you say one day as you’re scrubbing down a particularly messy table, “why do you ask all these questions anyway? i-i doubt my answers are… anything interesting, so—”

hoshina takes a sip from his coffee. 

you made him a penguin today. 

“i’m just curious,” hoshina says, in a tone that almost sounds apologetic. “work habit. gotta know everything about everyone. your coworkers, the officers, kaiju…” 

he watches out the window for a moment, and you think about the large gap between the two of you—two completely separate worlds as he fights to defend the world from a threat so foreign and massive that it seemed utterly inconceivable—and here you were, wondering about how you might sell enough cafe lattes to make ends meet and pay rent. 

“but more than anything,” hoshina says after a long moment, and you nearly startle hearing his voice again, “i just want to get to know you because you’re interesting.”

and in his eyes is a weighted, assured sincerity that makes your heart flip nervously. 

[…]

the second time you were saved by soshiro hoshina, it was a smaller, less dramatic affair. 

you’re carrying out trays to some other customers while hoshina sits at one of the tables, his laptop open as he’s working on some paperwork. 

and then suddenly you trip on one of the floorboards, falling forward with a yelp, and you brace yourself for the utter worst—spilled glassware and maybe a really bad fall—but then you gasp out as hoshina pulls an arm around your waist, keeping you from completely planting on your face. 

he lets go soon after, his eyes scanning yours for a moment. you wonder why your side feels a little bit colder, why you wished for the pressure of his hand against your side to stay for a little longer. surely it was nothing. 

“careful now,” hoshina says, a teasing lilt to his voice, but then he seems a little more contemplative, slightly more concerned. “nothing spilled too bad, right?” 

“no,” you say, a little dazed as you check the trays to find that thankfully, everything seemed in place. “thank you, hoshina.”

“mhm,” hoshina says, his eyes flitting back to his work. a smirk crosses his lips for a moment as his eyes flit back up to meet yours. “can’t save you all the time, can i?”

you sputter for a moment, and he laughs, and it’s not long before you’re laughing too. 

[…]

there are people huddled outside the street as hoshina enters into the cafe today. he seems a little weary, running a hand through his hair. 

“you look out of it,” you comment. 

“i… the…” hoshina glances back at the people outside. your eyes widen when you notice the telltale ponytail of—

“is that mina ashiro?” you exclaim, slamming your hands against the counter. “seriously? out here?” 

hoshina looks wearier at the excitement in your voice. 

“sorry,” you say. “but why is she here?” 

“i…” hoshina looks up at the ceiling, exhaling for a second. “do you want to go out with me?” 

you think your heart stops beating. 

hoshina’s watching you, and his eyes flit to yours, before trying to look at anything else. 

“where—where did this come from?” you ask. you want to hide behind something. your ears feel hot, and he coughs. 

“it comes from… ah, i’m not good at metaphor,” hoshina says, spreading his hands. “it’s so much worse than being straightforward—so i’ll just put it plainly. i like you. i come to the cafe a lot because i like you. i want to go out with you. and some of my… coworkers,” 

hoshina turns to glare at some of the people outside, who seem to scatter at his stare. 

“…were interested in seeing the person that has captured my attention. so… i hope that’s clear.”

does he seem ever-so-slightly nervous?

your face feels hot.

“yes,” you say, reaching out to clasp his hand. “of course.”

hoshina exhales, loud.

“okay. good. not that i was nervous or anything, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold out there, with those clowns,” hoshina says, squeezing your hand back, cool as ever. you smile, leaning up to kiss hoshina quickly, and he laughs, brushing his nose against yours.

and out of the corner of your eye, you see mina ashiro taking a picture with her phone. 

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 2

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuations, and curse words

Part 1 | Masterlist | Part 3

She didn’t know how, but Y/N had eventually managed to fall asleep in that freezing cold room. It actually didn’t even feel that cold anymore when she woke up in the morning. Nevertheless, she tugged the blanket up higher and buried her head further into the pillow. That’s when she noticed it –  the heavy weight that was tightly gripping her waist, and the source of warmth against her. How had this happened? She was not even five centimetres away from the edge of the bed.

That little fucker.

Poor Lando wasn’t even properly awake when he was basically flung across the bed. He blinked groggily, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He looked up at her in confusion. “What the hell?” he grumbled, still trying to shake off the sleepiness.

Y/N, fuming, sat up and glared at him. “You were practically spooning me, Lando! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Lando, rubbing his eyes, mumbled defensively, “I didn’t mean to! I must have just… rolled over in my sleep.”

She narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger in his face. “I warned you about this, Lando! I told you if you would cross over to my side I’d get Max to take care of you!”

Lando, now more awake, sat up and looked at her, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “I believe there was a promise of choking involved, too?”

Y/N’s jaw was slack in shock at his boldness. “Don’t be smart!”

“Come on, you were pretty cosy with me, too—”

“Cosy with you? I was on the edge of the bed! I literally would’ve fallen off if I moved any closer to the edge,” Y/N protested.

“You didn’t seem to mind the extra warmth,” Lando shrugged.

She glared at him. “Oh, please. It’s not like I had much of a choice with you clinging to me.”

Lando shook his head at her fiery temper; it was far too early for this. “Well, it’s not like you tried to push me away. I think you’re just too scared to admit you liked it,” he said, his smirk widening.

“Are you kidding me? I was practically falling off the bed. That was not enjoyment, that was survival. If you think that’s what enjoyment looks like, you’re obviously not very good in bed,” Y/N huffed, getting out of bed to collect her stuff.

“Wow, okay. I’ll have you know I’m very skilled, I get compliments all the time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Overcompensating much?”

Lando smiled suggestively, “If you want, you could find out for yourself.”

“Ugh, gross. Absolutely not. One night of accidental cuddling is more than enough.”

“If you change your mind, I’ll be more than happy to provide a demonstration,” Lando smirked.

“Dream on,” she concluded, stalking into the bathroom.

– – – – –

Half an hour later Lando and Y/N had joined Max and Pietra downstairs for breakfast, the intense discussion long forgotten. The soft sound of clattering plates and cutlery filled the hotel restaurant when they sat down. The group slowly ate their breakfast while they talked about possible activities for the day. After a vote, the plan was set: a morning hike, followed by an afternoon of exploring the town – especially the cute stores they spotted on their way.

And so, soon after they finished up their breakfast, they set out for their hike before it got too hot. The scenery was stunning; different types of trees and plants lined the pathway they followed, the sun shining through the leaves above them and every now and then, through the heavy bush, they could see the beautiful view of a lake nearby with tall mountains in the back. Unfortunately, the gorgeous sight was marred by Lando’s presence. Of course, he had to walk right behind Y/N, and couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.

“Careful there, don’t trip,” Lando told her as she manoeuvred over a large rock with little grip.

Y/N shot him a glare over her shoulder, mistaking the sincere concern in his voice for teasing. “I’ll take you down with me.”

Lando was surprised at the sharp response – he didn’t mean to insult or mock her. Y/N had always been witty; she always had a comeback ready for whatever Lando said, but she had never been good at noticing when Lando was genuine instead of taunting. She usually took all his comments as banter, even his attempts at flirting. Her consistent rejections made him play along; turning it into a joke instead of a true effort at pursuing his best friend’s sister. Maybe it was for the best; the dynamic worked, and Max would never allow anything more than friendship between them anyway. 

When the group reached the edge of the lake, they decided to take a break. They climbed down the rocks carefully and perched themselves on large stones scattered at the waterfront. Max searched through his backpack for the snacks Pietra had made them bring and offered everyone some. They drank water, ate something, and took a few pictures of the gorgeous view before continuing their hike.

Lando was the first to climb up the steep rocks back to the trail. He looked down while he waited for the rest, watching as Y/N struggled to find solid footing for the rather difficult climb. 

“Let me help you,” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She glanced up at him. “I’m fine,” she said dismissively, right as her foot slipped. Before she knew it, she was reaching out for his hand, grasping it tightly while he steadied her. His grip was strong and he knelt closer to offer his other hand in case she should need it, gently pointing out where she should step next. His unwanted help annoyed her; she could do it herself, she just needed to regain her balance first. Regardless, she followed Lando’s advice, his casual yet firm guidance impossible to refuse. 

Once back on solid ground, Y/N felt a flush creep up her neck, embarrassed by her misstep and flustered by how unusually kind Lando had been. She avoided his gaze, brushing off her clothes as if that would somehow dismiss the moment. "Thanks," she muttered quickly, hoping to move on.

"No problem," Lando replied, his voice softer than usual. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart for making her uncomfortable; his only intention had been to help. As he watched her avoid his gaze, he couldn’t help but think she looked cute – adorable, even, all flustered and embarrassed. The way her cheeks flushed slightly warmed his heart. Normally, she would only show him her strong and independent side, always refusing to accept his help or express her true emotions when he was near. She didn’t want him to see her in a vulnerable state, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. And whenever Lando managed to catch a glimpse of that softer side, like now, all he felt was the overwhelming urge to protect her.

Lando shook his thoughts away, and continued his way, not straying from the trail this time. He walked next to Max, while Pietra followed Y/N closely, letting a distance grow between them and the boys further ahead.

“What was that?” Pietra asked her.

“What?”

“You know, Lando helping you, and then you blushing like crazy,” she clarified.

Y/N laughed nervously, “What? It was nothing!”

“Mhm, sure. You guys already seemed weird at breakfast. Did something happen last night?”

Y/N sighed, checking how far ahead the boys were. She deemed them far enough to be unable to eavesdrop. “Lando cuddled me tonight,” she admitted hesitantly.

“What?” Pietra nearly screeched.

“Yes. I don’t know how it happened. I was as close to the edge as possible, like five more centimetres and I would’ve fallen off,” she told Pietra, looking at her over her shoulder, “I even threatened that I would choke him in his sleep if he crossed to my half of the bed, but it made no difference…”

“So Lando cuddled you in his sleep, and now he helped you up the rocks? I have a feeling he’s got a crush on you, babes,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Y/N laughed, “Oh, please, P. That’s not true, he’s been bothering me for five years now.”

She merely shrugged, a knowing smile on her face. Y/N rolled her eyes – she knew better than that.

They finished the hike half an hour later, not counting the brief stop at the viewpoint. Once back at the hotel, they quickly freshened up and wasted no time heading out again, eager to explore the nearby boutiques and picturesque streets lined with quaint houses. After grabbing coffee and a pastry at a small cafe, they began exploring the local shops.

The group split up as they wandered off to different stores. Y/N found herself drifting toward a small bookstore tucked away on a quiet street. She’d forgotten to pack a book for the trip – not that it would have fit in her overstuffed suitcase anyway. She picked up several books from the English section, reading the backs one by one, trying to decide which one she should read this vacation.

“Now that seems like a good literary piece,” Lando said from behind her, startling her.

“Jesus, Lando. Why would you do that?” She said, grabbing her chest with her free hand, nearly dropping the heavy books in the other.

Lando grinned. “You’re too easy to scare,” he teased, casually leaning against one of the shelves. “What are you looking at anyway?”

Y/N handed him one of the books. “Hm, a romance novel?” He said curiously and she flushed at the implication. 

“Not just a romance novel, it—”

“Anything where the main characters kiss is automatically romance, isn’t it?”

She sighed; Lando grinned.

“Why are you here? For as far as I know, you don’t read,” Y/N told him, taking the book from his hands, weighing her options.

“Thought I’d check on you. Make sure you didn’t get lost,”

Rolling her eyes, she put all books but one back in their places. “More like make sure you had another chance to annoy me,” she huffed, grabbing another book off the shelf.

Lando watched in amusement as she flipped through a few of the pages before putting it back.

“Okay, I’m buying this one. Do you want to look at a book for yourself, or can we leave?”

“I’m good,” he responded with that annoying smug smile of his tugging at his lips.

“Alright, then.” She nodded before heading to the register and paying for the book. Lando followed her out of the store and led them to a different one where Pietra and Max were waiting. They visited more stores until they felt it was time for dinner. As they were already in the town centre, they just walked around a bit until they found a restaurant that seemed to please everyone.

Y/N sat down at the table they were directed to, hanging her bag with the book on the chair. When she looked up again she saw that Lando had already claimed the seat next to her. She shot a questioning look at Pietra, who was sitting across from her, subtly signing with her eyes, ‘What is up with him?’ Pietra’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, her eyes glinting with amusement. She gave a small shrug as if to say, ‘You tell me’.

Dinner went much smoother this time around, especially since Lando couldn’t constantly stare at her face from her side. They had enough to talk about after all they had seen and decided to discuss their plans for tomorrow ahead of time. It would be a beach day, so the timing of buying the book was perfect. 

Halfway through the meal, Y/N felt the light pressure of Lando’s arm casually resting on the back of her chair. It wasn’t touching her exactly, but it was close enough to make her aware of his presence. She froze for a second, her fork hovering in midair as her body tensed.

Lando didn’t say anything, just continued eating as if nothing had happened.

Y/N glanced across the table at Pietra, widening her eyes slightly, slightly nudging her head to Lando’s arm. Pietra took a sip of her drink, suppressing a smirk as she met Y/N’s gaze.

She looked at Lando in annoyance before shifting in her seat, leaning slightly to the other side to put more distance between them.

Lando, of course, noticed. He turned to face her straight away with a confused look.

“Get your arm off my chair,” Y/N said harshly.

Lando raised an eyebrow, his expression mockingly innocent. “What? I’m not even touching you.”

Y/N glared at him, her voice firm. “You’re close enough.”

Lando chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by her irritation. “Oh, come on. I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly would be keeping your hands to yourself,” she shot back, trying to ignore how much his teasing actually made her pulse race.

Lando raised his hands in surrender, but his eyes gleamed with amusement. “No need to get all worked up.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the warmth creeping up her neck. “You wish I’d get worked up over you. I’d just prefer if you didn’t touch me.”

Lando shrugged. “For not wanting to touch me, you seemed to hold onto my hand pretty tightly earlier,” he teased, leaning closer while Max eyed you in surprise.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she recalled the moment he helped her up, a blush once again covering her face at the memory. “I was trying not to fall, I wasn’t touching you voluntarily.”

Lando chuckled softly, the sound annoyingly charming. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Y/N gaped at Pietra, who was still staring at her with a knowing smirk. She groaned in frustration before the conversation continued. Only a second later realising Lando still hadn’t removed his arm, she sent him another glare but didn’t bother asking him again.

The rest of the dinner passed relatively smoothly. Lando didn’t provoke Y/N much while they all chatted about tomorrow’s beach day and laughed about Max’s story of how he got stung by a jellyfish a few years back. By the end of the meal, Y/N had only needed to throw in a few comebacks and thought she kept her temper pretty well.

They paid the bill and left the restaurant, where the cool evening air greeted them. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, the lingering warmth of the meal dissipating quickly in the cool night breeze. The four of them strolled back towards the hotel, the streetlights casting shadows on the pavement.

In the elevator, Max and Pietra talked about what time they’d set out for the beach tomorrow, while Y/N leant against the wall, tired from the day’s activities, trying to ignore the fact that she and Lando would be alone again once they got back to their shared room.

When they finally reached their floor, Y/N said a quick goodbye to her brother and his girlfriend before trailing after Lando. She kicked off her shoes as soon as she entered the room and went in search of her toiletries. Once she’d gathered everything she needed, she made a beeline to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower,” she announced, before promptly closing the door behind her. 

The clattering sound of the running water was a welcome distraction from her busy mind which, for some reason, kept replaying the moment in the forest. She could feel Lando’s calloused hand holding hers tightly every time the image reappeared in her head, the same tingling feeling emerging along with it, too. She could see the gentle look on his face, and feel her embarrassment at nearly falling on her face – it was like she was there again. The repeating memory was just as annoying as the man prominently featured in it. The man who seemed to always find a way to irritate her, even when she was alone, in the shower. 

She banished the recollection to the back of her mind and finished up her shower. She quickly dried herself off and put her underwear and top on before she reached for her shorts, only to realise they weren’t there. She sighed deeply, mumbling to herself, “Of course, I forgot my shorts. Why would anything go my way for once.” 

She groaned, running her hands over her face when another realisation came, “God, why did I only bring thongs?” 

She squealed into the towel, a loud high-pitched sound, at her own stupidity. 

”It’s all Max’s fault. If he hadn’t screwed up and gotten me my own room, everything would have been fine, but no!” She grumbled leaning her elbows on the counter, burying her face in her hands. “I’m going to kill him one of these days.”

Meanwhile, Lando had settled onto the bed, leisurely lying back, hands behind his head while he watched a random movie. Unbeknownst to Y/N, he could hear her frustrated mumbling coming from the bathroom, but he chose to remain silent until he heard her voice calling out louder.

“Lando?”

“Hm?” He responded uninterestedly.

“Could you please hand me my pyjamas? I forgot them…”

“Nah, I’m comfy. You’ll have to get them yourself.”

Y/N poked her head out the door. “Are you serious, Lando? I literally only have my underwear in here.”

Lando shrugged, not looking away from the TV, causing Y/N to sigh.

“Lando,” she warned, “if you don’t hand them to me, I swear—”

“I won’t look, promise,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

With a deep sigh, Y/N tightened the short towel around her before she carefully stepped out of the bathroom, scanning the room to make sure Lando was keeping his word. He was lying in bed, hands behind his head, eyes lazily watching the TV playing some rerun of an old movie.

She tiptoed to the chair, where she thought her pyjamas were, but they weren’t there. Her eyes narrowed. Of course, they’d gone missing.

Muttering under her breath, she began searching through the drawers, still holding the towel tightly around her body. She bent down, checking the bottom drawer when she heard a low, barely audible curse behind her.

“Fuck,” Lando muttered, breaking the silence.

Y/N froze for a second before whirling around, catching his eyes very clearly locked on her. “What the hell, Lando! You promised you wouldn’t look!”

“Well, you said you only brought thongs. That’s not exactly encouraging me to look away.” 

“You heard that? You know what, never mind. Fuck off, Lando. Where’s your decency?”

“Non-existent,” he replied with a smirk.

“Look away, Lando.”

“I don’t see the appeal,” he said, his smirk growing.

“I swear to God, I’m going to kill you someday.”

“Have you thought yet about how? ‘Cause I’ve got a suggestion.”

She glared at him from across the room. “Do I even want to hear it?”

A playful grin spread across his face at her frustration, “Having you sit on my face seems like a pretty good way to go…”

“God, Lando. Get your head out of the gutter!” She exclaimed, mortified at his blunt response.

Y/N huffed in exasperation, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she turned her back to him, tightened the towel, and continued searching for her shorts. “You’re impossible,” she muttered under her breath, rummaging through the drawers with a little more force than necessary. Did he have no shame?

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room in growing frustration, her shorts nowhere to be found. She groaned softly, starting to doubt herself. Maybe she hadn’t packed them at all? No, that couldn’t be right, she wore them last night. They had to be around somewhere.

Lando, who had been watching her search in mild amusement, raised an eyebrow when she turned back to him with an accusing look. "You didn’t take my shorts, did you?"

He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”

“Because the worst is usually true!” she snapped back, still glaring as if that would somehow force him to confess.

Lando chuckled. “I swear, I didn’t touch them,” he paused, a mischievous smile on his face,  “but you might want to check under the closet.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes but reluctantly looked under the closet, this time turning her back away from Lando – he had seen enough of her. Sure enough, her shorts were hidden underneath the closet, all the way to the back.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

Lando shot her a smug grin. “See? Sometimes the problem isn’t me – sometimes it’s you.”

She ignored his comment and grabbed the shorts, quickly making her way back to the bathroom to change. She let out a deep breath as she slipped into her pyjamas, mentally cursing herself.

Once she was dressed and ready for bed, she walked out, trying to keep her expression neutral. Lando was now walking around the room, collecting his toiletries and making a big deal of grabbing his pyjamas before disappearing into the bathroom while she settled into her side of the bed. She busied herself with her phone as she waited for Lando to come back before she turned off the light.

She pulled the blanket up high and immediately turned on her side. “Goodnight,” she mumbled, “you better stay on your side tonight.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Lando replied overly sweet, as if mocking her warning.

She felt Lando shift in the bed as he lay down, but it stayed at that. Maybe she would have a peaceful night tonight.

– – – – –

Part 3

@dripostsstuff @willowsnook @f1fantasys @sarx164 @watermelonslut @diorsummer @zzfhcp @spideylovin @harrysdimple05 @pattydel @mayusaatma @leonie404 @mywritersmind @weekendlusting

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Hi! congrats for 700 followers!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 i love your fics and one shots <3

following the game… can i suggest Navy (ofc) Rabbit and if possible starfish too 🥺🥺🥺

Thank you 🫶🏼

HI SORRY THIS TOOK A BILLION YEARS BUT GUESS WHAT IT'S DONE NOW :) thank you for your patience sweet friend

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Female Reader

Trope/Prompt: Friends to Lovers x Body Worship

Summary: Law finds out you've never had an orgasm. A doctor treats a patients ailments. You get the idea. MINORS DNI

WC: 3100 hehe

TWs: inexperienced reader, alcohol consuption, fingering, oral sex f receiving, power dynamic kinda, smooth talking Law, body worship and praise, pet names, ugh it's porn.

Climax (+18)

——

Sure, the Heart Pirates weren’t the scariest or the biggest or the baddest pirate crew out there… but they were still pirates at the end of the day. The Heart Pirates could drink. Although Law himself didn’t indulge in as many rowdy evenings as the other members of his crew, he still enjoyed socializing with them. They were his crew, after all. 

This particular evening, Law found himself bored of his work and decided to venture out from his office and into the common areas of the ship. Law shuffled tiredly towards the sound of glasses clinking and slurred voices talking over each other. He almost decides to turn back to his bedroom and try to get some shut eye. His back ached, the twinge in his muscles pleading with him to go to sleep, but he hears something else. Your lilted giggle floats through the metal halls of the submarine and straight into his ears. He wanted to at least see you before he went to bed… something sweet to think about as he fell asleep… 

“Yeah, okay well you’re stupid, so.” You sip from your freshly cracked beer and roll your eyes at Shachi. 

“Wow! What a good insult, y/n! You’re so fucking creative!” Shachi jeers at you with a big fake smile on his face. “I set you up, and you lost! You have to finish your drink, I don’t care that you just opened a new one!” 

“Unless you want me to barf on your cards, probably not.” You chuckle. 

“And I have seen her throw up. It is NOT cute.” Ikkaku pipes up. Ikkaku leans in and whispers purposefully loudly to Penguin. “Shes a scream-puker.”

“Okay so, I am not a scream-puker!” You defend yourself. 

“Yeah, you are.”

Your head whips around towards the galley door. Law stands there leaning against the frame, looking exhausted, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. 

“Last time you had the flu I thought we were under attack and sounded the Tang’s defensive alarm.” Law says as he smirks at you. 

You pout and turn back to the table. 

“Okay that one time… and I was really sick, you know!” You huff. 

“Room for one more?” Law grabs a beer out of the fridge and sits down at the dining table without waiting for a response. 

“Of course, Captain!” Ikkaku chimes in. “We were just telling Shachi he has to finally tell that girl from the last island to stop calling him.” 

“She’s sooooo hot though! And she’s totally into me!” Shachi pleads his case. 

“We will never see her again!” You interject. 

“So? She doesn’t know that! And besides, the phone sex is better than nothing-” 

“You’re having phone sex? Here? On my ship?” Law immediately butts in and cocks his head in confusion. 

“… is that? Is that not cool? Did we have a rule about that or something?” Shachi questions. 

“No.. it’s just vile, Shachi.” Law shakes his head. 

“Hah! He thinks you’re fuckin’ gross!” Ikkaku points and laughs directly at Shachi who was making quite the face. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh whatever, I’ve been getting the best sleep of my life thanks to this! I’m like, almost twice as productive as I normally am!” He tries to build his case back up. 

“Why?” You ask, curious what those things had to do with each other. 

“What do you mean? Everyone knows how great the sleep is after you finish, am I wrong?” 

“You are correct there.” Penguin adds, sipping his beer. Ikkaku hums in agreement.

“Hah, okay. Wouldn’t know.” You add softly, secretly hoping no one would hear you. 

“What?” Ikkaku turns to you and asks. 

“Nothing it’s just that I… wouldn’t…? Know..?” Really pleading with your eyes for her to read between the lines and you wouldn’t have to say it out loud yourself. 

“Wait okay… you’ve never… had an orgasm?” Ikkaku’s eyes widen. 

“Correct.” You take a deep breath. “At least I don’t think I have.” You feign a laugh. 

“Oh you’d KNOW.” Shachi affirms from across the table, also staring at you with a bewildered expression. “Woah… that’s crazy. Are you a virgin or something?” He continues. 

“No!” You defend yourself. “The guys I’ve been with just suck, apparently. Can we stop talking about this?” You knit your eyebrows together and rub your eyes. 

“No way this is fascinating. How old are you? Twenty five? And you’ve never had an orgasm? Like never once? Even by yourself?” Ikkaku probes further. 

“Oooookay guys I never miss a good time to shut the fuck up, so I am going to head to bed!” You stand up from the table and straighten out your boiler suit. You were met with pleas and apologies from your crew mates, while your captain remained stoic during the entire exchange. You felt his eyes burning a hole through you as you left the galley. 

You swiftly make your way through the metal corridors of the ship towards your stateroom. You weren’t upset at your crew mates, it really was fascinating how you had made it this long in your life without feeling the peak of physical pleasure. It wasn’t for lack of trying, you had tried several times to pleasure yourself… and taken a small handful of lovers, none of whom could make you cum. 

You slip off your boiler suit and let it fall to the floor in an off-white heap. You pick out some grey pajamas, a thin camisole and matching shorts, throw it on and sit on your bed to brush out your hair. You untie your hair from the thick bun on your head and let it cascade down your bare shoulders. 

You had almost finished brushing our your locks when you notice the room has somehow changed… as if in the blink of an eye everything was sheathed in a faint blue glow. A familiar blue… 

“Wait no!” You could barely yelp out before you ass meets a different surface in an instant. “Ah!” You gasp and open your eyes to see that you’re no longer in your own bed, but in Law’s. You blink rapidly for a few moments to try and regain your surroundings. You catch your breath. 

You look up and see Law standing at the edge of his bed, looking at you with his shirt unbuttoned. Did he already have it unbuttoned when you were drinking… or did he take it off since then…? 

“Gods, Law.” You sigh and shake your head. “You can’t keep doing that to people. You could have just called my snail or something.” 

“Heard Shachi’s been keeping the line busy tonight.” Law looks down at your barely covered form on his bed. You push your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. He smirks. “So… is it true?” Law walks slowly around to the side of the bed, eyes never leaving yours. He was like an animal stalking its prey. 

“T-the orgasm thing?! T-thats what you brought me here to talk about?!” You could feel your cheeks flush bright red. You sink your head further behind your legs. “I-it’s really not a big deal…” You turn your eyes down to avoid his gaze. 

“You know, the human orgasm is really just a tool.” Law continues eyeing your body and ignoring what you had just said. “The reason it feels so good goes back to our earliest days of evolution. All living organisms, even plants, exist with one similar purpose in common. Do you know what that is, y/n?”

You pick your head up a bit from behind your knees. 

“T-to… n-not get eaten by a larger thing?” You sputter out.

“Reproduction.” Law answers his own question. “Every creature is designed with a primal need to create more of itself…” He paces towards his nightstand and back before taking his massive sword off his back and setting it against the bedpost. “The male orgasm is necessary for human reproduction, obviously. But the female orgasm…” He trails off and you look up and lock eyes. “Is it a bit more complicated…” 

“O-okay?”

“Some professionals say the spasming of the female reproductive organs during orgasm allows for easier penetration through the cervix for the ejaculate to pass through… and some say the female orgasm doesn’t even exist at all…” 

“Are you seriously doctor-ing me about this?!?” You finally find your voice a bit stronger in your throat. “I’ve lived this long without it and-“

“I however, y/n, don’t care what the purpose of it is. And I do know it exists. And I plan on giving you at least one this evening.” Law says as he sheds his button down off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Tattoos on full display, his chiseled abdominal muscles right at your eye level paired with the topic of conversation made you press your legs together even harder. 

“C-captain that is highly unnecessary and unprof-“ You try to protest shakily. 

“Nonsense.” Law steps so his thighs are against the edge of the bed. His right hand comes up to drag two fingers up your calf and rest his palm on your knee. He rubbed soft circles onto your knee with his thumb. “Now if you’re done being so stubborn, we can get started.” 

You leaned back on your elbows and blinked up at the man standing before you, your captain. You couldn’t believe this was really happening, but you were too stunned to question it. You trusted him with your life and more, why not let him try and help you?

“Alright.” You say softly, more to yourself than to Law. 

“Good. Now take your clothes off.” 

You cock your head back in surprise and your eyes widen. 

“Getting straight to it I guess…” You chuckle nervously. 

“We can go slower, if you’d like?” Law takes his hand off your leg, a genuine look of care in his grey eyes. 

“No no! I-it’s fine! I just didn’t, you know… like… well I wasn’t really planning for anyone to see me naked tonight is all!” You say awkwardly. 

“The only thing I care about tonight is pleasuring you. Will you let me?”

You don’t say anything in response, but you lift your thin grey camisole over your head and throw it to the floor. You didn’t look up to see Law’s response, you just shimmied your shorts down your legs and resumed your position laying on Law’s bed. 

Fully bare in front of your captain, you could feel your cheeks become hotter than they’ve ever been. 

“So what should-“ You begin.

“Fucking gorgeous.” Law interrupts. 

“S-sorry?” You question. 

“You are so fucking hot. So pretty.” Law was no longer staring into your eyes, but raking his gaze all over your naked body. “Spread your legs for me, yah?” Law asks, a bit more pleading than his normal demanding tone. It was like something shifted in him once you had taken your clothes off. He returns his hand to your knee, bringing his other hand as well this time to gently push your legs open to expose your sex to him. You hear him suck in a breath. 

Suddenly, Law pounces on you. You’re knocked back on the bed further and your head hits the mattress. Law chuckles playfully above you as he supports himself on his hands, black shaggy hair falling towards your face. 

“Hi.” He grins down at you. 

“H-hi..” You manage to smile back. Law leans down further and begins placing wet kisses along your neck, craning your head to the side almost involuntarily.  “O-oh okay.. t-that’s fine… AH!” You feel a cold hand pinch your left nipple.  

“So sensitive… this is going to be easy..” You feel Law’s mouth curve into a smile as he litters more kisses on you, this time across your collarbone. He moves his head lower and captures your right nipple in his soft lips and sucks gently. You let out a long sigh and throw your head back against the mattress further. Quiet gasps left your mouth as he worked your chest in his hands and tongue. 

Without fully realizing that Law’s hand had left your breast, you feel it cup your mound firmly without warning. You try to close your legs instinctively at the sudden contact. 

“Ah ah, no y/n. You’ve been hiding this pretty thing from me for too long.” Law says as he pulls back from your chest. He pressed his fingers against the top of your slit and started rubbing it in circles. “I promise it’ll feel so good.”  

Law leans up and places a gentle kiss on your parted mouth, you were too dazed to kiss him back just yet. He pulls away and settles himself on the floor on his knees in front of where you were laying. Strong arms hook under your knees and drag you swiftly so that your legs were hanging off the bed and your sex was mere inches from his hungry gaze and spit-slicked lips. 

“Even more fucking beautiful than I’d imagined…” Law says as he spreads your pussy with his thumb and forefinger, exposing your throbbing clit and dripping hole to him. “So eager and ready for me…” 

“Wait you imagi- SHIT!” You cry out as you feel Law’s hot tongue lap at your clit. It was so good, so thoughtful, so precise… he knew exactly what he was doing. “Oh my god-“ You had never received better head and he was only just getting started… maybe he was going to fulfill his promise. He alternative between suckling at your sensitive pearl and taking wide swaths over your whole sex with his entire mouth, as if he was trying to drink up every last drop your pussy was offering him. 

“So sweet…” You could barely understand what Law was muttering about, he was so drunk off your essence that all you could really hear was pained moans and groans of “mmhmmpph” as he enjoyed your taste. Your back was arching off the bed and you grabbed at Law’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you wanted to make sure he kept going. 

You moaned loudly as he slipped two fingers into your eager hole. He distracted you with harsh sucks to your clit as he crooked his fingers upwards inside of you. 

“Wait fuck!” You cry out, feeling a foreign sensation as Law pulled on that spot inside your walls. 

“Yeah there it is baby… there it is right there… let it happen…” Law cooed into your wetness as he continued to hammer into your sweet spot with his two fingers. He resumed his ministrations on your clit. 

“Law! I can’t!” You gasp as that warmth and pressure in your lower half grew stronger and tighter. 

“You can… get out of that pretty little head of yours, babe. Stop thinking and just let it go…” 

You try to center yourself and clear your mind, eliminating all thoughts except for the feeling of Law’s hands and mouth on you. It wasn’t hard to do, his presence took over your every sense entirely… the heady smell of his cedar cologne, the absolute determined and lust-filled look in his eyes that were peeking up at you from between your legs, and the overwhelming feeling of his mouth lapping up your juices with fervor. 

“I-I think… ah! Fuck!” Your shoulders lurch forward on their own, your walls starting to tighten sporadically around Law’s thick fingers. 

“You’re so close, pretty girl… just a little more… squeeze those tits for me, yah?” Law asks before returning his mouth to your throbbing nub. 

You do as you’re told and you wrap your manicured hands around your own breasts. You pull desperately at your nipples and cry out from the intense pleasure. 

“Law!” You moan your captain’s name as tears prick the corners of your eyes from the sensation. 

“Cum.” Law growls.

With a strangled scream, everything in your body released and your breath caught in your throat. Euphoric waves pulsed from your sex outwards and you felt the tears fall freely from your lash line as your legs shook. Your scream turned into a moan, and then fell into a whine as you suddenly felt too sensitive to have Law’s touch on you and you squirmed away. 

You caught your breath after what could have been 30 seconds or 5 minutes and take a look between your legs. Law stared up at you, face and bangs soaked in some sort of liquid… your liquid… and a stupid grin plastered across his face. 

“Holy fuck, I’m sorry I-“ You stutter out through heaving breaths. 

“Don’t.” Law stops you. “Don’t apologize. That was so fucking hot. Didn’t peg you for a squirter. Nice.” He rubs his hands on your thighs as he stands up. Your face flushes impossibly redder. “How do you feel?” Law asks. 

“I…” You flop your head back onto Law’s bed. “I feel like I got hit by a sea train but also incredibly light? My legs feel like pudding.” You sit back up on your elbows. “Law… captain… That was amazing…” You smile up at him. 

“Good.” Law looks down at the mess you’ve made between your legs and on his comforter. He looks down at his chest and sees even more remnants of your release. 

“How about we get cleaned up before bed and I can show you a few more things, yah? You’re staying with me tonight.” Law offers you a hand and you stand up on shaky legs to follow him to the bathroom. 

“Hmmm maybe this time it can be your turn?” You glance down at Law’s obvious bulge straining against his spotted jeans. “I owe you one, right?” You smirk. 

— —

>:)

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

good guys, bad deeds

pairing: javi p x f!reader

cws/tags: ONLY ONE BED, javi is reader's dad's best friend, minimal physical description (reader has pussy and boobs and wears a tank top and panties), p in v (unprotected bc ... i'm sorry), oral f! receiving, accidentally cumming inside, author does not speak spanish but wishes she did and researched spanish dirty talk but still knows v little, periodic pov switch

summary: reader comes to visit javi in colombia and he only has one bed, so they decide to sleep in it together and shenanigans ensue. it's wrong but it feels so right...

a/n: for the roll a trope challenge! @burntheedges

wc: 3.9k

taglist:

@gothcsz @onlyasimp4-2dbitches @harriedandharassed @withonly-sweetheart

join my taglist

Half the time Javi smokes inside out of stubbornness – he can still hear the voices of ex-girlfriends back in Texas telling him off for it. He has what he intends to be his last cigarette of the day outside because his apartment has begun to make him stir-crazy. With Escobar "behind bars", there's a brief lull in the DEA office. He's become so used to chaos that he thrives off it now.

A taxi pulls up and a young woman steps out - for better or worse, Javi knows a lot of the women who spend their nights on the streets of Bogota and Medellin. This woman is unfamiliar, though the look in her eyes suggests she knows him. He sifts through strings of drunken memories, but can't place her.

Until he hears her voice. "Uncle Javi!" she says, flying into his arms which are not yet open to catch her. He's a DEA agent, a young woman should not be strong enough to knock the wind out of him but you get pretty damn close.

He'd completely forgotten you were coming – but, even if he'd remembered, he wouldn't have recognized you. God, how long has he been away?

You look older. That's what he tells you later, trying to put it as matter-of-factly as possible, trying to sound neutral and indifferent to the fact that a beautiful woman is standing at his doorstep like a baby in a basket, helpless in a foreign world, brought by cab rather than stork.

Javi carts your luggage up the stairs and little does he know that you're practically salivating over the sight of his broad shoulders, his strong arms that could just pick you up and throw you onto the bed–

"Are you planning to stand there all night?" Javi's voice snaps you out of your daydreams.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'm so tired, I'm practically falling asleep standing up."

Jet lag can do a number on anyone, but it doesn't help that the flight attendants were happy to provide you with alcohol. You try to act sober, but Javi's a cop, he's trained to call your bluff.

You stumble through the doorstep and you hear him stifle a laugh. "Are you okay? You look drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I had a few drinks on the plane, but I sobered up at the airport while I was waiting for you to come get me."

You watch guilt wash over him, and you almost take back your statement, but you don't. It's a rare opportunity to see Javi flustered, and even if it's not for the ideal reason (in your dirty mind), you'll take it as consolation for his forgetfulness.

"I'm so sorry. I've been so wrapped up in everything here that I completely forgot you were coming."

You shrug it off, not committing to accepting his apology but not wanting to prolong his suffering either. God forbid a man has to take accountability for his actions.

He follows your gaze which travels across the living room, through the kitchen, as far as your eye can see from the entrance where you stand. "I would've tidied up if I'd known I was having a guest."

"I honestly expected worse."

"You think I'm a slob?"

"No, you're a man – a single man – and the apartment of a bachelor is never a clean one."

"Who says I'm single?"

"Your ring finger."

"Maybe I have a fiancée."

"If you did, I don't think you'd be so defensive."

"I like being single."

"I like being single too."

He moves swiftly away from the relationship status conversation. "Unfortunately, I don't have a guest room, so you'll have to sleep on the couch if that's okay…"

"You're making your guest sleep on the couch?"

"Oh, I assumed you'd be more mature."

"I am mature. That's why I'm asking politely and not throwing a tantrum."

"Fine, mija. I give up. We're both too tired to argue."

"We can take turns, so you can have your bed tomorrow."

Taking turns means Javi shares the bed with you.

He strips himself of his shirt and you struggle to keep your composure. You have a better view of his broad chest and big arms with him shirtless and you can see the trail of hair from his belly button leading down to the waistband of his sweatpants, and god, how you want to find the end of it. A happy trail, they call it, but what it makes you feel is something different than happiness, something impure.

"What?" He catches you staring. "It's hot as fuck in here, and it's my room. I sleep shirtless. Take it or leave it."

Take it. You want him to say it to you in a different context.

"Whatever. You better not try anything funny."

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you really think I'm that type of guy?" He seems genuinely offended that you think of him that way.

And, in truth, you doubt he's like that, which is why your fantasies about him 'trying something funny' are a bit unrealistic, but you let them run wild regardless.

"Chill," you say, "I'm kidding."

The truth is that you'd be perfectly fine with any funny business Javi would be willing to offer you. But it's late and it's your first night as a guest in his apartment, so you decide not to try to provoke him.

You fall asleep soon after you tuck yourself in beside him.

It's been quite some time since Javi has been forced to share a bed with someone. Outside of women who stay over - and women rarely stay after the act is finished — he sleeps alone. You don't snore or drool on him which was a positive as he's been with women who did both of those things. He's known sleep talkers and sleep walkers — Lorraine was the former. It isn't until the middle of the night when he's awoken by your stirring that he realizes how cumbersome it will be to sleep next to you. It's a queen-sized bed, which should fit two, especially when one of those two is a young woman. So, why are you practically on top of him? You've managed to roll over, sprawl out, and curl back up to restart the process. You always end up further on Javi's side, so he continues to inch away until he is forced to be up against you lest he fall off the bed and onto the floor.

He tries to sleep as best he can, and prays for the sun — something he's never done before. Javi is hardly a morning person. But, he wakes up again before his alarm sounds. There is one glaring issue, he finds.

It's not his fault that your ass is up against his crotch and that every movement you make inadvertently teases him. It's so unfair that you make him this hard when he can't jerk off. He can't because you're here. Doubly unfair since you did this to him. It's not your fault that you're pretty — too pretty for your own good, whether Javi ends up giving into the primal needs inside him or you end up with another man. Thinking about that gets him harder - not because he likes to think about you with another man, in fact, he hates it, but jealous fuels the fire inside him. If he let his possessive feelings towards you overcome his rationale, he could fuck you the way you deserve, and he's sure you'd enjoy it. You need it, whether you know it or not.

Or, maybe it's just projection, maybe hope. Pretty women make him weak. God forbid you find out and use it against him. Javi's the type to risk it all - money, career, even his life. Not just for pussy - because it's not about that anyway, it never has been. Pussy is easy to come by - in fact, if he gathers enough saliva in his palm and closes his eyes he can almost replicate the feeling by himself. But being with a woman, all soft skin, strangled moans of his name, nails piercing his skin, needy kisses, teeth, tongue, and heartbeat - he hasn't been able to fully satiate that need ever, and he doesn't remember a time before he was a tenderhearted soul in a soldier's body.

Javi could get himself off, it wouldn't take long, but the shower is in the en-suite so he'd wake you up if he turned on the water. Plus, it'd feel wrong having you in the next room while he did such a thing even if he tried not to think about you while he did it, even if you slept in blissful ignorance, pure and untainted by the knowledge of Javi's teeth digging into his fist to muffle a moan as he shudders through his orgasm.

He wasn't thinking about you until your body was pressed up against his own. He doesn't think of you like that, or at last, he didn't. Not before you came to Bogota, appeared in front of him so grown up that he hadn't recognized you at first. You were a girl the last time you stood in front of him, he remembers having to kneel to hug you when he said goodbye. Time has passed and you're fresh out of college now. A woman, not a girl.

He's somewhere between thinking and dreaming when you spring up in bed with a gasp, and on instinct, his hand flies to the bedside table to search blindly for his gun. Until he realizes it's just you. A harmless girl.

Maybe not completely harmless.

He places his hand to his bare chest as he breathes slowly, trying to calm down.

You look like you're on the verge of tears and it pains him. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Javi."

"Mija, don't worry," he says, rubbing your back to calm you, "You just startled me."

"I just had a bad dream," you tell him.

You used to have those when you were younger, he thinks, now I have them too.

"It was just a dream, you're safe." He lies down and nods for you to lie back down too. "I'll keep you safe," he says quieter.

You move closer, facing him, and he lets you because he knows you need comfort more than anything. Javi resists the urge to hold you, worrying you might feel his hard—on through his sweatpants.

He stares - no, gazes - at you for a moment, unsure of what to say. You meet his eyes with a similar look - inquisitive, though you're more curious than he is. Javi feels dread in the face of what he fears is unfolding. You see an opportunity where he sees a warning. Do not go any further, it says. But he hasn't done anything.

Except for lie down next to you rather than taking the couch, and sleep shirtless rather than sweat through a t-shirt. He's more angry at himself for his reluctance to admit that this is a self-indulgent choice no matter how he flips it. Either he's a bad host or he's a bad man.

The answer becomes clearer when you lean in and he closes his eyes instead of pulling back like he should. He doesn't want to embarrass you, he decides. Better not reject you, at least not like this, he should let you down easy. Which he'll certainly do after kissing you.

It's so unfair, Javi thinks. He'd forgotten what it feels like to kiss someone who wants him. Women want his money, at best, his body. Often, both. But Javi is the type of man who wakes up at sunrise so he can slip out before he has to man up and have an awkward conversation over coffee.

Cupping your cheek gently is certainly wrong but so is kissing you, and he's already doing that. He should kiss you sweetly, make this a little more dignified, salvage what's left.

Your lips are soft and it's not your first kiss unless this is an incredible stroke of beginner's luck. Hungry, yet teasing, forcing him to reveal his own desire when you draw back a bit and he has to be the one to reach for you.

He notices you drifting closer to him and before he can make things much, much worse, he snaps out of it and pulls back entirely.

"Querida, we shouldn't… It's not right," he says because he can't say he doesn't want you.

"Why? What's wrong with it? We're both adults, we're sober, we're single…"

"You're much younger than me, and your father is my friend."

"Age is just a number, and what my dad doesn't know, can't hurt him."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, playing the whole thing off like he isn't grappling with conflicting feelings inside.

"You said you'd never lie to me, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Tell me the truth, then, do you want me too?"

"You can't ask questions like that, mija."

"Why, Uncle Javi?"

"That's why. I cannot sleep with someone who calls me 'Uncle Javi'."

"It's not like we're actually related."

"I know that. This wouldn't even be up for discussion if that were the case."

"So it's up for discussion?"

"No. No, it's not. We're not doing it."

He stands up abruptly, does a terrible job of adjusting himself in his sweatpants, and walks towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking a shower."

"It's past midnight."

"Can a man not take a shower at night?"

"At least be honest and say you're going to jerk off."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, putting his head in his hands. Then, he turns to you, "I'm going to jerk off. Happy?"

"Can I come with?"

"No. If I wanted you to be with me, I'd just do it in bed."

You pout, disappointed, and he thinks that's your last resort. He nearly lets his guard down as his hand reaches the bathroom door, reaches safety.

But, in a voice that's so familiar yet so foreign coming from your mouth, you ask, "You usually do it right here?"

He stares at you, his body slumps a bit like he's melting as he watches you play with the straps of your top, like you might take it off.

"Javier," you say, seductively.

"Don't do that to me…" he pouts, pleads. He doesn't want to give in.

"I just think we could have a really good time. I mean, I bought these panties for you, but I guess if you don't want to see them, maybe I can find another DEA agent who wants to…"

"I'm not letting you go and whore yourself out to my coworkers."

"Why not? You don't want me."

"I didn't say that. I said 'it's wrong', and it is."

"I guess I can see how it might be wrong from some angles, but I really like you, and I just want to know that you like me back — I just want to be wanted, to know someone thinks I'm good enough."

It's so unfair. Javi has to assume you're acting, but you're doing a great job because your teary eyes are filled with emotion — maybe it is real, he thinks. And that's what lands him back in bed with you.

"I like you," he whispers, "and you know that. I think a lot of guys like you… they don't deserve you, but trust me when I say you're more than wanted."

"I don't want any of them. I only want you." You look up at him with those pleading eyes that have always worked.

"I'm not a good man." he sighs.

"I want you anyway."

"I'm not a good man because I can't help myself."

You look at him with hope shining through you.

"Before we do anything I need you to know that I love you to death but this is sex, not marriage, not a relationship - I want to make you feel good tonight, but tomorrow we go back to normal, got it?"

"You act like you're taking my virginity. I'm not that innocent little girl anymore. I'm not expecting you to fall in love with me, I just want you to fuck me."

He has the knee-jerk instinct to tell you not to swear. but the scowl of disapproval quickly turns to a smile. You're not that innocent, are you?

You grab his face and whisper, "If I'm going to have casual sex anyway, isn't it better if I do it with you?"

"Oh, so now this is all 'casual sex', and I'm just doing damage control by fucking you?"

"My dad asked you to keep me safe, right? If I'm bed with you, I can't get in bed with any other potentially dangerous men."

"I'm always gonna take care of you." he says, dipping down to kiss your neck.

"Javier." It's a drawn-out plea for something, anything. It's the simultaneous gratitude brought about by the relief that washes over you when he agrees to this but the carnal frustration at the anticipation of him, heightened when you feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

You can tell he's big - though, the tightness of his pants leaves little to the imagination regardless. Nervousness strikes you because he's Javi. He thinks you don't know how much of a womanizer he is. As if you've ever been stupid enough to believe the marks on his neck were just razor burn or that he had no idea where the pair of panties in his glove compartment came from.

You don't dare ask how many women he's slept with, you don't need to know the number to know you have a laundry list of competition. You won't be his best - that much you know - still, you can't be his worst.

All your worries move to the background when you remember that Javier is kissing you, tugging down the straps of your top, kissing your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your heart swells at his gentle devotion, but your core aches for him as your much dirtier fantasies flit around your mind.

You would never have guessed Javier would be into this type of sweet and slow sex. Most men you've been with want you in a way that feels more perverse, more distant.

Javi lets his hands wander along your skin, he teases you and marvels at your reaction. He doesn't just grip you, he holds you.

You shouldn't be as surprised as you are when he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed before kneeling with his head positioned between your thighs.

"You said you wore these for me?" he asks, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear.

"Yeah. I remember finding a similar pair in your car once, and so I thought you might like these."

"You'd look good in anything, but you did a good job picking these out. Definitely my taste."

"You can keep them."

His eyes flicker with something, something you've been dying to see. "What are you going to wear?"

"I have more, like, ever color."

"They're all for me or just these ones?"

"All for you." The statement holds greater weight than the thin lace fabric, and surely he knows that.

There is desire in his eyes when he flicks his tongue along your folds for the first time.

Javi decides that if he's going to indulge, he shouldn't indulge half-heartedly. He should not be doing this, but you deserve to feel good. Someone else should do this for you, but no one else is here. It's Javi's responsibility to take care of you. He's just helping you sleep, that's what he tells himself when he gets a taste of you and knows he's so incredibly and utterly fucked. He groans into you, and you return a prettier sound.

He's too old to be this hard, this hungry for a woman. The most unfair part of it all is that Javi doesn't need sex, he doesn't need the touch of a woman. He needs you. Forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.

Your voice shakes when you say his name, warning him of your impending orgasm. He massages your hipbones as if to say, "you're going to be okay, just let go". You look embarrassed when you come down from your high so he makes a point of staying between your legs, locking eyes while his tongue gathers every drop you give him, and smiling when he wipes his lips with his thumb.

The predicament lies between his own legs. The question still stands stiff and painfully hard. Should he allow himself the pleasure of fucking up? Of fucking.

You notice his hesitation. "Javier, I want it too, you know?"

"It's still a mistake."

"Everyone makes mistakes… maybe you could just allow yourself to make one - for me."

Making one mistake surely isn't enough to make you a bad person.

"Don't you ever get tired of being the good guy?"

He smirks at you. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Patience is a virtue, and not one you have.

"I'll do it for you," you say, tugging down his sweatpants, watching his cock spring out.

"Puta madre," he says, as you stroke his length, running your finger over the tip, kissing it with the pad of your thumb, "if you keep touching me like that I'm not gonna last."

Javi stifles his curses in English, ultimately ending up settling for Spanish at the rare moments he can find words at all. Clearly he forgets that you speak enough Spanish to understand what he's saying, but you let him think you don't because the things he says are even sexier than what he says in your daydreams.

He drags the head of his cock along your folds, coating himself with your wetness.

"Que cosa tan linda," he says under his breath, marveling at your body, fully naked in front of him.

"Please," you whine, and he nods, silent but committed.

"Mira como me toma," he says as he eases inside you finally.

He keeps the rhythm of his thrusts slow until you beg for him to go faster. Harder, deeper, more, more, more.

"¿Te gusta eso eh?" His voice is thick with lust, he's not even talking to you, not really, just running his mouth unable to help it.

Soon, it's nothing but curses through gritted teeth accompanied by the slick sounds of your arousal.

"Quiero que me hagas tuyo" you finally give up the game when he's about to cum.

It's not the fact that you want to be his that takes him over the edge unexpectedly, it's the way you say his name and he knows you already are. You hold onto him for dear life, locking your legs around his hips and forcing him deeper, your inner walls flutter around him, and he is helpless against the tidal wave of ecstasy that crashes over him.

He's dizzy after you suck the life out of him, but his rational mind returns when he pulls out and watches cum drip out of you.

Javi panics, momentarily considers every horrible possibility and every solution - will he have to fake his own death and leave the country? But your soothing touch as you gently pull him closer, your relaxing voice accompanying it, calms him.

He buys you the morning after pill and feeds it to you along with the best breakfast he can conjure up as an apology.

You thank him, but just before he thinks he's in the clear, you say, "if you really wanted to make it up to me, you could eat your breakfast in bed…"

He's about to say 'no', but you wink, and instead, he says, "Fine. But just this once."

spanish translations:

Que cosa tan linda = what a pretty thing

Mira como me toma = look at how well it takes me

¿Te gusta eso eh? = you like that eh?

Quiero que me hagas tuyo = i want you to make me yours

this post helped me lots!!

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: kwon soonyoung

love at first sight (or meet cute au)

'did you hear wedding bells ring? cause that's what i heard when i saw you'

it wasn't supposed to happen. hoshi knew better but he's been sitting at the hotel whole day and boredom clung to his whole body like that stupid fly on the ceiling that refused to budge no matter how many pillows you threw her way. and he knows that it's all for his own safety, knows that fans went ballistic since they learned he landed in this city and he knows that his managers actually want only the best for him. it's just their version of best for him is basically imprisoning him in the hotel and hoshi's version of best for him is letting him roam around the city unguarded. so yes, him walking out of the hotel unsupervised was not supposed to him but oh well, it's too late to think about it now that he's hiding in the very first shop he saw on his way, running away from overly excited fans.

said shop turned out to be a small coffee shop in a ghibli movie characters theme. it's cute, hoshi notes from his position behind the counter. he climbed here the second he entered, quickly realizing that hiding under the tables will not help him. there's no one in the cafe and he has half a mind to call someone from staff when door from his left opens and a person walks in. hoshi instantly shoots up, apologies on his tongue when you finally look up and- oh.

not many things can leave hoshi speechless; he's been in this business for such a long time that it feels like he's seen it all, even some stuff that he wishes he could un-see. he's very used to perfect faces, perfect settings, perfect speeches - he's been trained to know what to say in any situations but right now he's at loss. you are so-

'what the hell you are doing standing behind the counter?!'

-rude. yeah. blinking, he snaps back to reality instead of getting lost in your eyes. it's almost five and sun dances beautifully on your face, it illuminates all your features with an orange glow and he wishes he had a camera with him because whoa.

'i'm gonna call police if you don't step back.' there's slight tremor in your voice but you still try to look confident. 'how did you even-'

'door was open!' hoshia blurts out in his defense, belatedly realizing that this is not a good excuse for hiding behind the counter, where only staff members can go. 'i had to hide, i'm so sorry, but they would've spot me if i chose just take any table.'

your face is very expressive. miriads of emotions change themselves until you settle on confusion. 'hide from who- oh my god, are you a gang member?'

'i-what-' hoshi sputters, looking himself up and down. does he look like a gang member? 'no, i'm- uh, a singer. popular one.'

hoshi is not sure why he added the last bit but it's too late to take it back now. your gaze focuses on his face and he takes this time to study you too. it's hard to pinpoint why, but there's something so interesting and fascinating about you (apart from you generally being really, really pretty). like hoshi could stare at you all day and not get bored, could see you as his muse even.

'okay,' you exhale, looking very done. 'okay. you are a singer. a popular one. hiding from..fans, i presume?' hoshi nods. 'okay. that still doesn't mean that you can stand here.'

hoshi moves like a lightning, quickly jumping to the other side. you're not wearing any badge with a name and he suddenly really needs to know your name. 'sorry again. uh-' he looks around, trying to keep the conversation going. 'can i get one ice americano, please? name is soonyoung, by the way.'

you look... amused. baffled. shocked. hoshi likes how he can pull out so many emotions from you but he is yet to see you smile and that makes him sad. 'okay, soonyoung. one ice americano coming right up, anything else?'

'your name,' hoshi says, beaming, not caring how awfully cheesy that sounded. he goes for a killer: 'i can't keep callling you 'pretty girl' in my mind.'

and there you go, there's your smile. it sets fireworks in his chest and his grin broadens. you look much better with that smile on your face, he decides and proceeds to tell you this loudly as well.

'thank you,' you say, blushing but also laughing.

you don't say your name but laughter is good, hoshi decides. laughter is almost love, no? it can start with a laughter, he is sure. his mind conjures thousands of pick up lines that can you make laugh and maybe, just maybe, if he makes you laugh often enough you'll tell him your name. and then he can get your number and then he can facetime you from whenever and will always be able to look at your pretty face. now that's a solid plan in hoshi's mind and he's never happier for not listening to his managers and running away from the fans because meeting you is worth it ten times over.

a/n: and i finished my 'seventeen members as love tropes' series with hoshi! hope you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[christinarowie332]

passenger princess

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings : mentions of droogs . swearing (there’s (allways gonna be lots of swearing cuz i love “like an old married couple” trope)

reader and chris go for a late night drive .

(green text is txt messages)

——————

as wonderful as my boyfriend chris is , with his many talents and hobbies , he cannot drive for the life of him .

___

“chris for FUCKS SAKE LOOK AT THE FUCKING ROAD”

“I AM LITERALLY LOOKING AT THE ROAD, WHATDOYOUMEANBRO,THEROAD-“

“CHRIS YOUR LOOKING TO THE SIDE OF YOU ,LOOK AT THE FUCKING ROAD INFRONT”

——

“wait so clutch down , engine on do the gears and shit ….”

“ hand break up , take your foot off the clutch till it gets to the bite then-“

“what the fuck is the bite?”

“it’s right before u feel the car move”

“how do i feel the bite if the car don’t move”

“you just do chris”

“okay then what?”

“you take ur foot off the clutch , and press on the gas and go forward”

“sounds easy as fuck i’ve got this shit”

chris does as i say perfectly until he gets to the part when finding the “bite”

the car jumps forward throwing us both to the dash board , and spilling the two sweet teas next to us all over the front of the car.

“WHAT THE FUCK CHRIS”

“IDIDNTMEANTOIMSORRYAREYOUOKAY”

i unbuckeled his seat belt with a huff and looked up at him through my eyebrows . annoyance painted on my face. before unbuckling mine and exiting the car .

chris’s cheeks flushed with scarlett before getting the hint and getting out of the car to switch seats .

____

so here i am now , sat in my car outside of his house at , 3:24 am , waiting for chris to get out of his house .

i had gotten a text about half an hour ago from him :

“i love u so much btw (can u please pick me up so we can smoke and chill i’m bored and i’m craving some fritos) your the best woman ever and u are so sexy (i’m literally begging you bro) you are allways right and u are the funniest person in the world(PLEASE y/n IM BEGGING YOU BE AWAKE”

“i’m awake christopher”

“soooooo???”

“i’m omw”

“did i mention i love you”

“i’ll be half an hour so don’t make me wait”

“😁”

———

after about two minutes of waiting , i hear a door slam loudly. my head shoots up towards the noise only to see my gorgeous boyfriend grimacing at the loud sound .

he allmost ran to the car , the pockets of his grey sweatpants bulging with objects i couldn’t decifer , along with a orange hoodie and neon green Birkenstocks.

“what the fuck are you wearing” i say through giggles as he plops down hastily in the passenger seat .

“it’s fucking half 3 what did u expect?” he says in a strangely high pitched voice in defense while adjusting himself in the seat and riffling through his pocket .

he pulls out the following items and throwing it in his lap :

a lighter , two pink roll ups in a plastic tub , his wallet, his phone , his charger , a pepsi , chewing gum , three vapes and a pair of fluffy socks .

“what the fuck chris.” i say in disbelief at the amount of utter shit he pulled out before meeting his eyes and tight lipped goofy smile

“what? the essentials” he exclaims shyly shrugging his shoulders

i shake my head in disbelief again before starting the car and pulling out the driveway. chris plugs his phone in and opens the can of pepsi putting it in the cup holder next to mine . he eyes said cup holder , which has my keys , a lighter , two pink pre rolls and a cherry lip balm and smiles .

“great minds” he hums lowly looking away and opening spotify on his phone. i notice this and speak up .

“can i put a request in babe?” i say eyes on the road but angling my head towards him .

“depends , if u try and put some emo shit on i will literally grab the wheel and swerve us into oncoming traffic” he says in full seriousness looking at me with raised eyebrows .

“can u queue up lust by skies and i know by travis please and thank you” i say looking at him for a second a giving him a teeth smile . that doesn’t reach my eyes , in an attempt to ask nicely for a change .

he just stays silent staring at me mouth agape .

“what?” i say smirking and glancing at him for a second

“ i just realized i am actually in love with you”

“JUST?” i shout widening my eyes and aggressively side eyeing him before looking back at the road .

he just laughs and puts his hand on my thigh , before playing lust as i asked .

his grip on my thigh stays as we listen to the music , drawing circles with his thumb . i inhale deeply and try to hide the smile forming on my face . he notices and smirks before looking away out the window . i look at him now as we are at a red light and take the sight in .

his sharp jawline being accentuated by the poor lighting from the red leds . his hair messily falling over his forehead and ears . his eyes being lit up by the streetlight , making them glisten slightly with his lack of sleep . i put a finger on his chin and move his face towards mine resulting in him looking at me in shock slightly. i put my hand on his cheek and rub my thumb along his jaw before leaning in and kissing him .

the kiss doesn’t last long as a car honks loudly behind us . opening my eyes and seeing his face now being green i stay there looking at him smiling , eyes flickering over his face .

“y/n”

i hum in response still in a trance

“y/n the lights green baby”

oh

“oh”

——————-

(guys please dm me if u want me to stop tagging you)

@mangosrar @urmyslxt @soursturniolo @sssturniolofart @jcwrites-blog @lividnity @sturnphilia @daddyslilchickenfingers @biimpanicking

lmk if y’all wanna be tagged plz i forget !!!

i love u all !!! (like acc i wanna eat you)

[ceebit]

i just know than jeonghan would tease his s/o a lot, but whenever they went “hannie :(“ he would literally MELT like he’d just be like “okay sweetheart i’m sorry 🥺” and the members would be like ????? BC HE WON’T LET THEM LIVE but it’s his baby so <3

i don’t think i’ve ever written for hannie outside headcanons so thank u for the prompt!! forever in love with the weak for ur partner trope. warms my heart fr.

“speaking of slip-ups, remember when we went ice skating for our two year anniversary?”

the arm slung around your shoulders toys with the necklace he’d gifted you ages ago as he speaks, turning to offer you a sweet smile despite the teasing lilt to his voice. your eyes narrow when they meet his, and his grin only brightens.

of course you remember. you’d nursed the sore spots on your sides for hours, groaning with dramatic despair on your couch and flinging couch cushions at your beloved’s head each time you suspected he was laughing at you.

even now, a little bit of the mirth dances in his eyes and it’s all you can do not to roll you eyes.

“what? what happened?”

you’re brought back to the present to the sound of chan’s voice, curious eyes looking back and forth between the two of you.

“yn looks like they wanna skin you alive,” seungcheol adds, “and while i support the notion of payback for serious wrongdoings, i kind of don’t wanna lose my best friend.”

you do roll your eyes and jeonghan’s smile brightens tenfold.

“we went ice skating for our anniversary,” you start begrudgingly, and the two nod to egg you on. “and it’s no surprise to anyone that i have shit balance, right?”

cheol winces and you nod solemnly. in your defense, really, it wasn’t just on ice with metal on the soles of your shoes. things just had a funny way of appearing directly in your path at the worst times, and thus, you were subject to much teasing from your other half as he rubbed the aching spots and soothed them with kisses.

“so when you put ice and my terrible balance together, you get…”

“i really don’t get how you kept falling even when i was holding your hands,” jeonghan muses, squeezing your shoulder gently. you frown, embarrassed, and look down at your hands placed in your lap. “you’re always gonna need my help, aren’t you?”

“yeah, isn’t that… besides the point?” chan hides a smile behind his drink before letting out a strangled sound at the jab cheol delivers to his side. “what?? i’m just saying…”

“it’s cute, really.” his smile has softened, and you know the look in his eye is fond, but you still can’t help but pout. quietly—and honestly, you hadn’t meant for him to hear you—you mumble his name and rest your hand on his shoulder.

“hannie…”

and just like that, the switch is flipped.

your companions watch in equals parts awe and surprise as jeonghan immediately cups your face in his hands and offers up quiet apologies, brow furrowed as he searches your expression for serious discomfort. it’s a far stretch from the sly grins he gives them and the rest when they openly complain about his relentless teasing, so watching you preen under his attention has them more or less bristling on the sidelines.

cheol clears his throat and you’re the only one who acknowledges him. “i thought this was supposed to be inclusive,” he mumbles, and you raised a brow in amusement.

“you want a kiss, too?” at that, jeonghan snaps back into the conversation, hands still gently cupping your face, and give his best friend the most scathing glare he could muster. the message he sent was more than clear from a mile away—his kisses were for you and you only. no excuses.

“now look who wants to skin who alive,” chan mutters, and releases an undignified squawk when cheol jabs at his side again.

[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 13

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: Angst, billy x reader, nervousness, allusions to homophobia, hurt

wc: 6.4k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. I took a little break because november was a pretty messy month for me. I had complete writer's block, and I am slowly coming back to writing.

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 13

“Am I interrupting?”

Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look at Robin who walked right into your office with a smirk to her face. You rolled your eyes, turning back to look at your phone with a shake of your head, the male on the other side laughing.

“You know what Buckley, you are.” Eddie said and you saw his smile spreading as he also earned another roll of your eyes. 

“Eddie is just showing me what else needs replacing in my car.”

“Cause you took it to Rick’s all this time, and everything in it is garbage–”

“Don’t insult my car Munson.” You glared at the phone this time and he raised one hand up in defense.

It’s been two weeks since you talked with Eddie… And since then, you two have grown close… Very close. How you didn’t talk to Eddie before? You had no idea. When you all get together at the bar or at someone’s house, you two always end up in your own world. You assumed that you were both trying to catch up on eachother, learning about one another still, and you were surprised each day by how easy and normal it was to talk to him.

“To me, it sounds like you are replacing me.” Robin pouted as she walked over to you to come into frame and glare at Eddie through the camera and the man only smirked at her with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Aw, you’re scared I’m going to steal your best friend status Buckley?”

“That’s never happening.” You said in a deadpan expression which made Eddie pull an offended frown on his eyebrows.

“Seriously? I give you friendly discounts at my shop!” He yelled at you and you couldn’t help but snort at how he tried to sound hurt from it, but it only came out as a comical act.

“You can’t buy my friendship Munson, and even if you handed me a billion dollars, Robin will always be first.” At your words, Robin blew a raspberry towards the phone, throwing a fart sound at Eddie. Robin’s arms wrapped around your waist and she rested her head on your shoulder while looking at Eddie, a grin to her face.

“You wish this was you, huh.” For some reason, those words Robin let out of her mouth gave you a feeling of embarrassment? They just simply made your belly twist in a way that wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

Eddie on the other side shook his head, yet he felt his jaw clenching slightly, which he dismissed immediately. 

“Sure. Anyways, I gotta go, the new brake discs are coming in next week. We really need to put those in at least before you cause an accident.” You rolled your eyes at him and before you could say anything against that, “No comebacks. I am surprised you didn’t die yet.”

“I drive safely.” You retorted, almost offended, but Robin was amused and let out a snort out of her mouth. Your head snapped to look at her with a death glare and she backed away from you with her hands up in the air in defense.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Talk to you later.”

“Sure– Oh, about the payment–”

“Next month is okay.” You sighed at his words and you shook your head at him.

“I can do a check.” It was his turn to snort.

“No, it’s fine, seriously Peach.” Eddie sucked in his right cheek as he looked at you and his brows twitched slightly when you sent a smile his way. It was still new, this friendship you two have, and it seems he is still a little weirded out that you smile at him so easily. Not that he is any different. 

“Alright, if you insist, I will take advantage of your kindness.” You heard a commotion behind him as he squatted slightly as if ducking and he just yelled at someone before turning back at you.

“I gotta go before these fuckers do something– FUCKING CHRIST, GARETH–!” And then the call ended. You were left laughing at the whole ordeal, putting the phone down to go back to your laptop, only to feel a presence behind you and you remembered your best friend came into the room a few minutes ago. You turned your chair to look at her, and Robin had her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at you.

“Well, I see you’re slowly changing me.” Robin has always been known for over exaggerating things, and this was one of them. You rolled your eyes and turned again to type on your computer.

“I am not Robs.” You defended yourself but it was true you and Eddie had become very close, but it wasn’t as nearly as how you and Robin are. 

“You talk to him everyday, be it because of a TikTok or a Reel, or just simply messaging.” Robin walked towards you and leaned her butt against the edge to rest there as she looked down at you. 

“We just… We clicked. Putting the past behind us.”

“Which still sounds fucking crazy to me. To everyone really– I mean, you two really hated each other.” And you didn’t need a reminder of that. 

“It was very pitiful. We were hurting each other when we could have helped one another. I hurt him and he hurt me, and all for nothing.” Robin nodded at you, and she agreed with you on that. You had told her about what you and Eddie talked about, and you even bared to her how guilty you felt about so many things you said to him. 

Robin explained that everyone’s stories are private, so you didn’t really blame her for not telling you stuff about Eddie’s life, just like she didn’t tell Eddie anything about you.

“I know… I am glad though. You two seem to be enjoying one another’s company so… that’s good.” Robin said sincerely and you smiled up at her. “And what about Billy? How do you think everything will go once they meet?”

“Well, I think they will hit it off instantly.” In all honesty, you didn’t know if that was true. Eddie and Billy had different yet alike personalities in some sense. Aloof, cheeky, yet attentive if needed. It would be the first time you were going to introduce Eddie to him, and Billy only knows Eddie as the friend who sends you memes all the time.

He doesn’t even know his name is Eddie. You will introduce them tomorrow night.

And you were hoping everything turns out okay.

Things with Billy have been…

Normal.

Ever since meeting your friends, your boyfriend has been a little bit weirder than usual. You wanted to have an all together with his friends and yours, so that the two groups would collide and meet, but all you received from your boyfriend was a talk on how his friends are known figures, and they cannot be seen going out at all.

That felt weird in some sense because you distinctly remember them saying something about going out to a club whenever they get a chance to do so. They didn’t look like the type of people that would avoid the public eye, but rather, seek it. Always seeking it.

Today, you and your boyfriend would go to Robin and Steve’s home, get some drinks, spend time with your friends, but sometimes now you just want to be alone with them. Your boyfriend, even if at the beginning was not very friendly with your group, he now seems to want to be included at every gathering.

You didn’t want to be a bitch about it, cause maybe he does like talking to Argyle a lot. But, they can just message each other to get together by themselves, right? No need for Billy to always be on an outing with you, yet, he sticks with you like a leech. 

You wonder how tonight everything will go with Eddie. Hopefully, he is the one that makes your boyfriend finally have some fun inside the group. You’re pretty sure they will get along nicely… hopefully.

You were in the bathroom, throwing the curtain to the side in order to open it as steam floods the entire tiled room. You step out of the tub after turning off the scorching water, just how you like it. Hot showers always help with your nerves, they never miss it. You sigh in contentment only to be struck with the fact that you didn’t bring a towel inside. 

You groaned as your body started shivering slightly as the air hit your wet skin. You didn’t want to yell so much in respect for your neighbors, so you leaned and opened the door, opening your mouth to call out to your boyfriend, only to stop when you heard his muffled voice behind the bedroom door. 

“I told you I don’t want to do it!”

Silence.

“I don’t want to be part of something I don’t see right.”

Silence again. What is he talking about?

“I know it’s for publicity, I know, and I don’t care what the voting polls in social media say, I won’t stand for something I don’t believe is right.”

Polls? Social media?

“Okay, okay, fine. Fine. I will say I stand by it.”

You were blinking, trying to understand what your boyfriend was talking about just now. A publicity stunt? Agree to what? A belief of his? You heard footsteps and immediately closed the door of the bathroom as quietly as possible and you felt your heart beating loudly in your chest. You jumped in your place when he knocked on the door.

“Baby? You okay in there?” Fuck, he can’t know you were eavesdropping.

“Y-Yeah! I was calling you to get me a towel but you weren’t listening to me Billy! I am freezing over here!” You tried to put on that whiny voice he loves when you get a little bit angry at him. You heard him chuckle but wince at your tone.

“Shit honey, I’m sorry. I’ll get it for you!” You heard his steps walk away from the bathroom and you let out the air you were holding in.

Something’s not right.

Something is definitely not right.

You don’t know what it is, but there is just this feeling in your gut that something will happen, that something is not what it seems, that there is this idea in your head you are afraid that is true but you don’t want to believe it. Not from him. Not when you started to feel more and more for him each day.

Only to be starting to wash away the more and more you learn from him.

“Billy!” You yelled again and the door opened completely, revealing a smirking Billy Hargrove on the other side while holding a white towel in hand. 

“You want it?” He aimed to hand it to you, but as soon as you were going to catch it, he snatched it away with his teeth showing. “Come get it.”

And that’s how you end up chasing your stupid boyfriend through the whole apartment, completely naked while he runs around, laughing in delight, towel in hand. 

You didn’t want to believe it.

So when you finally get to dry yourself off, and get some clothes on for tonight is when your nerves start settling in, harder than before. Something in your gut was turning, uncomfortably, nervously, knowing that something was not right, that something was going to happen, that something had been happening all this time that you decided to simply look away from.

You looked at him, at your splendid boyfriend and you still don’t know how he chose someone like you. How he decided it was you the one he was going to risk his fame for. He was choosing a red button-up shirt today, his hair in a small ponytail in the back. You don’t know how you two came to be.

And yet, you still haven’t told him your story. You haven’t told him a few parts of yourself you didn’t feel ready to tell him, but will that time ever come? Why is it so hard to open up to him?

“You ready to go?” Billy asked you as he walked towards you after checking himself in the mirror one last time. You smiled up at him and gave him a nod.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“You finally made it, Jesus.” Robin greeted you as she opened the door for you, and you rolled your eyes at your friend’s comment. You were late, yes… but it was because Billy took his sweet time always getting ready. You scolded him a few times for it, but he always tells you he has to keep his skincare routine intact. 

“What a greeting.” You heard Billy mutter under his voice as you two walked into the house, music already invading your ears and the chattering of your friends, making your nerves go away a little, only for confusion and disappointment to fill your gut. You turned your head as Robin came back from closing the door behind you both.

“Where’s Eddie?” You asked, and your boyfriend’s head snapped to you and then back at Robin.

“I think he is running late! What, already missing your NEW best friend?” Robin answered with a huff, and you could only giggle at her jealousy, not noticing the storm that was brewing inside your boyfriend’s chest. 

“Quit that Robs.”

“Who’s Eddie?” 

Robin looked at your boyfriend for a second with a confused frown on her face and then back at you. For some reason, there was a turn in your stomach because you realized you never told Billy about Eddie. He just knew there was a friend missing from the group he still hadn’t met yet.

“Um, the last friend you don’t know.” You looked at him and his blue orbs were not very helpful. You couldn’t quite read his eyes as they looked at you, but a twitch in the eyebrow told you he was thinking. 

“Why did she call him your best friend?” And Robin was looking panicked between you and your boyfriend, and you simply smiled at Billy, shaking your head.

“It’s Robin being dramatic.”

“Why did she call him that? I mean–” And you could see the moment Billy’s head clicked, an eyebrow raised up. “Is he the one you’ve been talking to for the past few weeks?”

“Okay, you say we talked, we mostly sent memes to one another.” You tried to defend yourself, but against what? You didn’t do anything wrong. So why do you feel the need to explain yourself?

“Right.” You could see the change in mood in Billy’s body language. This night was already turning in a way that you didn’t expect, or you wanted to avoid. Robin shot you a look with a worried frown and you turned to go into the living room where everyone else was. 

“Billy! My man!” You could hear Argyle yell and god fucking bless Argyle. You saw how he rushed towards you both as Robin walked towards Nancy and whispered into her ear. You knew she was going to tell Nancy about what just happened at the front door with Billy. There is an uneasiness in your throat as Argyle hands you a beer and Billy another. 

“Hi, Argyle.” Billy spoke and you took a sip out of your beer as you felt Billy’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You raised an eyebrow at that, looking at him. Why did he trap you with him? You wanted to go say hi to Steve and Jonathan, but you guessed you could do that in a few minutes.

“I have so much to tell you Billy man, I tried that shampoo and conditioner you recommended and it left my hair perfectly smooth, but curly man!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Argyle’s commentary and Billy followed through, shaking his head at your friend.

“I told you to get that brand but for straight hair. Not curly.” You looked at Argyle’s hair and sure enough, there were some waves at the end of his long hair. Billy smiled but there was a hint of something hidden behind it as he talked to Argyle once more, “Who is this Eddie guy?”

“Ah, my brochacho, we met way back in California, and then I followed him here.” Argyle replied with a genuine smile and Billy for some reason let out a sigh of relief, making you frown in confusion. 

“Oh, that’s nice. You two are close then.” 

“Yeah, very!” You felt the tightness on your waist loosen up, and Billy shot a smile your way, kissing the top of your head. You blinked in confusion and you stepped away to finally go greet Steve and Jonathan who were looking at you with worried faces.

“What was that all about?” Steve asked and you shook your head, taking a long sip out of your beer. There was a pit in your stomach, a nervousness you couldn’t quite describe, a sense of deja vu of some sort.

“I have no clue, but…” You didn’t want to worry your friends with these things going on inside your head. They would question your boyfriend and you don’t want that but at the same time, you want to tell someone about these feelings you’ve been having lately, or the realization of these feelings. 

It’s not like you didn’t notice the drastic changes in Billy over the past months, and it all started when he met your friends, but it got better… Yet, you couldn’t help but notice certain aspects and your feelings started swaying from side to side. A sense of dread, of being afraid to know the truth.

“But?” Jonathan asked and you opened your mouth to then close it once again when the doorbell rang, making your head turn to the direction of the door. You were feeling your heart in your throat, and excitement grew in your stomach.

Nancy was the one who walked to get the door this time, and you looked over at Argyle and Billy talking excitedly. You saw how Argyle was gesturing as he talked, and you saw how your boyfriend laughed at his commentary. Maybe he and Eddie will get along. You were worrying about nothing.

And then Nancy stepped aside to let Eddie walk in. 

You felt some heat coming up on your cheeks, across your body, but you shook it off as the beer kicking in your system. Your eyes scanned his outfit now. Dark jeans, ripped in some parts, a tight Slayer T-Shirt with a jean vest on top. His hair was in a low bun like always, and the stubble was neatly done. 

You wondered what cologne he was using today.

Your mind was snapped back in reality when Eddie approached you, putting the six-pack on the table. He had a warm smile on his face as he flicked your forehead with his middle finger. You winced at the sudden pain, rubbing your skin while glaring up at him.

“What was that for!?” You whined at him and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“For making me watch the stupidest movie ever.”

“Did you just call ‘When Harry Met Sally’ stupid!?” You couldn’t help but be slightly upset by that. It was one of your favorites, and you also liked watching Eddie’s movie suggestion, ‘Armageddon’.

“I am not a fan of those kinds of movies sweetheart.” He was looking at you as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but there was a sly smile in his lips, tugging up, making you smile at him.

“You’re a lying piece of shit. You liked the movie.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, but you knew he liked it. He was just messing with you to get a rise out of you.

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are! You loved that cheesy crap, admit it.” You poked his side, which made him chuckle, moving away from you.

“This is still too weird.” You heard Jonathan talk and you lifted your head to ask what he meant only for your waist to suddenly be grabbed, fingers digging into the skin making you wince just slightly. You turned your head to see Billy looking at Eddie with a grin on his face.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” The voice your boyfriend let out was not friendly. It was strained as if it pained him talking right now. Eddie glanced at you for just a second, and you cleared your throat as your nerves tried to get the best of you.

“Right, Billy, this is Eddie.” Eddie gave your boyfriend a forced smile, and you could feel the tension in the air as the light blue eyes clashed with the brown ones. 

“Yeah. You’re Argyle’s boyfriend, right?”

Oh. Oh god. It’s happening again. Eddie’s eyebrow twitched and gave you a questioning look and he could see the confused frown on your face. He looked at his friend and sighed, knowing that Argyle probably made it sound that way. Just like he did last year with you and you mistook it all as well.

“Fucking christ– No. He is just my friend.”

“Oh?” Billy’s eye twitched as he kept looking at Eddie, and you could feel him tugging you closer to him as he kept looking at the dark-haired man. “Then you aren’t dating?”

“No. I am straight.”

And for some reason, you felt the whole air shift. Eddie’s face suddenly fell into a confused frown, and then into an annoyed one instantly, as Billy’s gaze hardened. 

“Right. He is the friend you’ve been messaging all the time?”

Billy’s eyes now landed on you and you looked at him to only have a sinking feeling in your stomach. You felt your throat closing up at his gaze, and you knew. You simply knew what was going on in his mind. Eddie was looking back and forth in between you and Billy, and he could see how your boyfriend’s jaw clenched.

“I– um–” 

“Billy! You promised to help me with the drinks!” You heard Argyle yell from the kitchen and Billy groaned as he closed his eyes in annoyance. You felt a slight grip on your waist again and then he let go of you, almost unwillingly, giving Eddie one last look before he left. You were staring at his retreating back as he headed to the kitchen, with a confused frown on your face.

“He’s… charming.” Eddie said with not an ounce of likeness in his tone, almost in disgust. He had a bad feeling in his stomach, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. He didn’t want to alarm you in any way, but you looked already confused and nervous. He didn’t want to add more wood to the fire.

“I– I need a smoke.” You stated and immediately rushed out to the backyard, fumbling with the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your purse. What was going on? Why did Billy’s demeanor change so suddenly? You never told him it was Eddie the one you were messaging, but did it really matter?

You put the cigarette in your mouth, and now you were fumbling to get the lighter out, but you couldn’t find it. Billy doesn’t like it when you smoke, but he smokes as well. You don’t understand that train of thought, but you don't care right now. A flame appeared in front of you from a red lighter and you knew who it was without even looking at him. You leaned forward and lit the cigarette, taking a long puff.

“You look nervous.” Eddie lit his own stick, mimicking the long puff like you did, and you both let out the smoke out of your lungs.

“I just… don’t understand why he is being… this possessive?”

“Well, he might be overwhelmed by how much more of a man I am.” He joked and you snorted, shaking your head at him. He gave you a small grin and took another puff of his cigarette. “You also look pretty today, people tend to become protective when their partner shines.”

You were taken aback by his response. Did you hear him right?

“Oh Munson thinks I am pretty.” You joked, taking another swig of your stick, turning to look at him, but he wasn’t laughing as he looked to the distance.

“No denying there.”

Thump.

He was just being friendly. Steve complimented you before, Nancy did too, so it should be fine. He was just being a nice friend, telling you that you look nice tonight, that is all. So why do you feel your hands sweating?

“Uh–”

“Are you not going to say I look pretty too? C’mon, I even put a red shirt on today, not a black one.” He chuckled to lose the tension but inside, Eddie was a little nervous. The compliment slipped out of his tongue with ease, too much ease. You giggled, the tension going away, and shook your head at him.

“The red and the black go hand in hand with you, it’s not new.” 

“What do you want me to wear? A pink shirt? A baby blue crop top?” You exploded with laughter at the image that came to your head, making him face you with a smile to his face.

“With the care bears at the front!” At that, he too let out a laugh. It was easy being with Eddie, carefree, natural even. You were still amazed by that fact, and cannot even remember how you two disliked each other before. 

You both smoked your cigarettes, sharing jokes with one another, laughing, making the nervousness in your belly leave to a faraway place.

“It’s crazy to think I almost beat the shit out of you out here and now we are laughing together.” You put the cigarette out in the small ashtray that was on the garden table and Eddie followed suit with a chuckle.

“You? Beating the shit out of me? Are you sure about that Peach?” He stood in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest as he inspected you with a squint of his eyes. You copied his stance, and his eyes diverted for a second to your cleavage and went back up to your eyes.

“You think I can’t?” He barked out a laugh at that.

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to, I could pin you to the floor using only one hand.”

And oh, that didn’t cause the reaction you thought it would. It was friendly, it was him telling you he is stronger than you… Yet your stomach did a flip at the thought. He could definitely pin you down, and you know that because of his height and the arms that are big and filled with tattoos. 

He looked at you when you didn’t answer him back, and he noticed the look your face had as if processing a thought, and he felt a shockwave run down his spine. His thoughts were cut off when he sensed a pair of eyes looking his way, and he raised his head up to see Billy glaring at him as he leaned over the doorframe of the sliding doors with his arms crossed over his chest.

You blinked and quickly turned around to see your boyfriend with a stern look on his face. Now you realize how fast your heart was beating into your chest, and now you felt the nervousness creep up on you again as you stared at Billy’s piercing gaze.

“Billy–”

“Can I talk to you for a second? Privately?”

You slowly nodded at that, giving Eddie one look telling him sorry you’re leaving, and turned to go with Billy. He didn’t grab you or hold your hand, simply turned away, guiding you toward the kitchen. You could sense your friend’s eyes following you as you walked into the kitchen, Billy closing the door behind you.

“Um… is everything okay?” 

“You think everything is fucking okay?”

You were stunned at his aggressiveness, never had heard him this way before. You didn’t know what could have possibly happened tonight, but you might have just a slight idea of what and why.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You fucked him, didn’t you?”

And your mouth fell agape at that. Did you hear him right?

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“For fuck sake, you fucked him, didn’t you?”

So you did hear right. Was he talking about Eddie? Why would he come up with that conclusion? What made him believe such a thing between you two?

“I was hoping I heard wrong William, what the fuck are you talking about?” Billy only scoffed with a fake smile on his lips as he leaned against the counter.

“Don’t you dare lie to me! I know you fucked him. That is not just a friend, calling you 'sweetheart'? Giggling together like middle schoolers?”

Was he serious right now? You were feeling your heart breaking, thrumming in your chest in an aggressive manner, and you wanted to run away, you did, but you had to face him. You had to talk to him, once and for all.

“He is my friend! I act that way with Steve, Jonathan!”

“Yeah, well, they’re gay! I don’t care about them!” You could hear the anger in his voice, the way the vein in his forehead was popping out. Your throat was trying to close as a lump was beginning to form, but you weren’t going to back down from this.

“What about Argyle!? He is straight and my friend!” You yelled back at him and he ran a hand through his hair as his nostrils started flaring up from anger.

“I don’t buy for a second he is straight. He is all over me, all the time.”

And the reality of it all hits you like a brick to the face. You remained quiet for a second, feeling your past months with him slip away from your fingers. The image you had of him had been tainted for a while, but this completely smeared the picture.

“And is there a problem if he is?”

And that made Billy look at you, defying you to keep going, almost warning you to shut up, but no… not with this. You liked Billy. You really did.

“What are you saying–”

“You do know that I’m bisexual, right?”

And silence fell in the kitchen. And you saw it. You saw how his eyes turned from anger to complete confusion, to then frown as he looked at you. It was your turn now to scoff, tears filling your eyes as you started pacing around the kitchen, trying to gather your thoughts.

“You…” He couldn’t even speak, and you didn’t want him to. He shouldn’t speak now.

“I thought I was fucking wrong, I seriously didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that my boyfriend… that my boyfriend is–” You cannot even say the word. You can’t. You choked on your own sob as you covered your mouth with your hand. Billy’s face softened and he walked towards you, trying to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Baby–”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You swung his hand away with the back of yours and you stepped away, your face displaying the rage that your heart wanted to let out. “Let me ask you a fucking question, Billy. Are you for or against same-sex couples adopting?” 

And he realized it. You saw how his face turned into an angry one again, his eyes squinting at you as he remembered earlier today.

“You eavesdropped.” 

“You bet the fuck I did. And you, Billy Hargrove, are a homophobic asshole.” 

Silence. 

It was like a knife. Those words coming out of your mouth were stabbing you more than they stabbed him. You should have realized it when some of the dark jokes he and his friends did involved… you can’t even think about it. How could he? Why?

“Just because I do not share the same ideals, doesn’t make me homophobic. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to even talk to your friends for fuck sake!” He defended himself but what was the point? There wasn’t any, your heart couldn’t take it anymore, it really couldn’t. You could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks, shaking your head at him, taking a step back from him.

“I want you to leave.” Your words came out like venom, and he frowned at you, shaking his head.

“If I leave, you are coming with me, we need to talk this out–”

“There is nothing to talk about! Fucking leave!” Your voice was loud, his voice was loud, and everything was static around you, your vision clouding as he came close to you once more, trying to get hold of your hands.

“Baby, baby, come on, don’t be like that… We’ll go home and we’ll talk about this–” His voice sounded desperate now, and your tears were still running down your cheeks, your mind shutting him out completely as you shook your head again, desperate for him to leave. You didn’t want him near you. You were disgusted, completely disgusted.

“N-No!” Billy’s face crumbled into a stern look once more and he quickly got hold of your bicep in a tight grip, snapping you back into reality as he glared down at you.

“I am not leaving you alone here, with him. So if I leave, you are coming with me.” You tried to yank your arm away from his grip but he kept his hand tight on your arm, and you were feeling his digits digging more and more onto your skin, making your fear grow at each second.

“Let go of me Billy!” You tried again only to be pulled against him and you felt as if your heart were in your throat, his touch completely burning you, wanting it away from you. He wasn’t physical, never, and this is the first time he ever touched you in this way. 

“Please sweets, listen to me!” He was desperate for you, trying to get you to talk to him but you shook your head again and as he tried to move you once more, he felt the back of his shirt be yanked harshly, making him let go of your arm as he stumbled backward.

“What the actual fuck do you think you are doing?” 

Your eyes widened as you saw a broad back stepping before you, and the smell of wooden cologne immediately invaded your nostrils. You rubbed onto your arm as you straightened up to take a step to the side to see Billy looking at Eddie with a glare in his eyes.

“This doesn’t concern you. It involves me, and my girlfriend.” 

“From what I heard it seems she doesn’t hold that title anymore.” Eddie was almost snarling at Billy, completely blocking him from you in a defensive stance. Billy’s eyes caught yours, shaking his head.

“You– You’re still my girl, right?”

You felt the lump in your throat again, memories of the good times you spent with him flashing in front of your eyes. Memories that made you want to go around Eddie to get to him and hug him and kiss him. But then you saw your friends, looking at the scene at the doorway. Your friends. The ones who wouldn’t hurt you, and if they did, never intentionally.

And even if your heart breaks, even if your body trembles with need of him, with the need of his lips, with the need of his eyes on you…

You slowly shook your head at him.

“Bye Billy.” 

The room fell silent, and you could see Billy’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at you. What the both of you had was genuine, and it was growing to something even more beautiful, but this is not something you can accept from him. Ever. No matter if he tells you he can change because an ideal never changes that easily.

But his saddened frown turned into a sour one, rage filling his features as his gaze turned to Eddie and then back at you.

“You didn’t answer my first question, but I guess it was true then? You remain friends with guys you fuck darling?”

Your heart shattered at his coldness, at him insulting you this way, almost as if he were calling you ‘slut’ in a very indirect way. A tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at him with shock filled eyes. 

And it all happened too quickly. Suddenly Billy was face to face with Eddie, as the dark haired man gripped the front of his shirt while he glared down at your now ex-boyfriend. Ex. Another ex.

“Get the fuck out or I will ruin your only source of income pretty boy.” Eddie growled at Billy and pushed him away roughly, making Billy tumble slightly, almost hitting the counter behind him. 

His eyes searched for yours one last time, and you could see the hurt in them, reflecting your own. You didn’t doubt his caring for you, not even a second. It was genuine, all of it, but you cannot forgive him for what he did, and does for publicity. You looked away from him and you heard him sigh, followed by steps that were going towards the doorway where all your friends moved away from so he could go through.

“I’ll get my manager to pick my things up from your house. He’ll return yours.”

More steps. More. The front door opening. And then, a slam.

And you broke down.

You were hurt, disgusted, in pain, feeling helpless because of this situation that couldn’t be fixed now. Never. No matter if you have feelings for him, if you will miss the days and nights spent with him. Tears ran down your cheeks as you sobbed into your hands, two arms wrapping around you as a lavender scent filled your nostrils.

Robin was cooing at you, rubbing your head, holding you like a baby to her chest. Your hands gripped her shirt as you cried onto it. Yes… Even if you are hurting you would never choose someone that hates your friends for their orientation. 

You wouldn’t choose them over Robin who is holding you tenderly and has held you this way many times before. You will hurt. You will cry. You will need time alone and space to gather and piece yourself back together again.

But they will all help you through it. Even Eddie who is behind Robin with a frown in his face, Steve next to him with the same look but his hand was on Eddie’s shoulder, pressing on it. 

It will be okay.

End of Chapter 13

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[cerismo]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

P1. P2. P3. P4.

𐙚 . . . pairing. toxic!rafe x toxic!fem kook!olivia wilson

୨ৎ . . . genre. slow burn. everyone else can see it but them (trope)

.ᐟ . . . content warnings. cussing, arguing

Rafe Cameron and Olivia Wilson were too blind to see their love for each other.

“please please please, don’t prove im right”

After what seemed like forever, I had finally made it home. Little did I know, what was waiting for me on the other side of the door to my house. I killed the engine and got out of my car. I reached the front step and scrambled to find my keys in my purse. After a few seconds, I saw them and practically threw them into the hole.

Once I heard the lock click, I released my keys from the door and threw them back into my purse, as I pushed the door open, I was met with my family, the Camerons, and Rafe all together in the living room. How the hell did he get here before me? I watched him walk back to the party. And why were they all sitting here?

I made my way through the foyer and into the living room. “Uhm hey guys, what’s going on?” I asked setting my bag down on the nearest chair and looking around at the people who sat before me. Mr. Cameron, was the first to speak, his voice stern but controlled. "Liv, we need to talk about what happened on the beach."

Liv shifted uncomfortably, glancing at her mom, who looked equally uneasy. "What about it?" she asked defensively. "Rafe told us you slapped him," Mrs. Cameron said, her tone disapproving. "Is that true?" Liv's eyes widened. "Yes, but he called me a slut! He embarrassed me in front of everyone!"

Rafe, sitting smugly beside his parents, interjected, "I was just looking out for you. You were making out with some random guy. I was trying to protect you." "Protect me?" Liv's voice rose. "By calling me a slut? You're the one who made a scene!" Her mom, trying to calm the situation, said, "Liv, violence is never the answer. You shouldn't have hit him."

Liv felt cornered. "So it's okay for him to call me names and humiliate me, but not okay for me to defend myself?" Mr. Cameron's face hardened. "Rafe was out of line with his words, but you need to understand that physical violence is unacceptable. We raised you both better than this." Liv's mom added softly, "Rafe has always tried to be there for you, Liv. Maybe he went about it the wrong way, but his intentions were good."

"No, all he does is embarrass me in front of all my friends and never apologizes!" Liv's frustration boiled over. "He’s not protecting me; he's controlling me!" The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Mrs. Cameron looked at her son disapprovingly, while Mr. Cameron seemed lost in thought. Liv's mom, sensing her daughter's distress, tried to reach out to her.

"Liv, please understand, we're just worried about you. We don't want you to get hurt." Liv shook her head, tears welling up. "You don't get it. None of you do." With that, she stormed up to her room, slamming and locking the door. Rafe's family decided to leave, but Rafe stayed behind to talk to Liv. He felt a pang of guilt mixed with a stubborn sense of righteousness. He knew he had to try to make things right.

He knocked on her door, but there was no answer. Opening the door cautiously, he stepped inside and listened. The sound of muffled crying led him to the bathroom. He flipped the switch, finding Liv on the floor, her face buried in her hands. "Liv," he started gently, crouching down beside her. "Can we talk?"

“I HAVE A FUN IDEA BABE MAYBE JUST STAY INSIDE”

MO YAPS

tagged: @venusxsturnio, @flouvela, @monroesturnns

GUYS! THE FUCKING AUDACITY THAT rafe cameron has is INSANE!

I cannot believe he did that to Liv. Like I seriously might beat his ass myself. Anyways lemme know what you thought in the comments or reblogs!

[lizardtakesflight]

The "Humans are Space Orcs" trope has always scratched a real good itch in my brain. I have something I want to write for it, but I'm really shit at coming up with a plot, so I keep just doing little drabbles like this:

"You know, I don’t like that they call you that.”

Thirtytwo’s ears perked up and swiveled towards Alex, who had been sitting in the corner of the room and watching nem type away at their console. The Terran had seemed content to spend this work cycle just monitoring Thirtytwo in neir duties, and if ne hadn’t been used to this by now, it probably would have been more than a little anxiety-inducing to be stared at by a predator species for so long. With those eerie, front-facing eyes, it was always pretty clear where he was staring. 

Alex had been silent until now, just moments after Thirtytwo ended a call with one of the overseers.

“That they call me what?” 

The Terran scowled, and Thirtytwo had repress the urge to shrink down against neir seat at the show of disapproval. “Drudge.”

Thirtytwo’s spines raised slightly in confusion, and ne turned in neir chair to fully face Alex. “That is… what I am, though.”

Alex huffed through his nose. “Yeah, but that’s not– you’re an individual, not just some faceless member of…” He seemed uncomfortable with stating the rest aloud. “You know.”

“The serving caste.” It didn’t bother Thirtytwo at all to be referred to by such; it was just a descriptive of what ne had been born to do. It wasn’t quite clear to nem why this subject seemed to agitate Alex so much any time it came up.

“Yeah, that.” The words sounded flat and unhappy through Thirtytwo’s translator. “They won’t even let you have a real name.”

Now ne was really confused. “My designation is Vega-Bluelight-Drudge-32nd-Born-of-24th-Generation.”

“That’s not a name, that’s just saying what you are!"

Alex’s agitation was beginning to affect neir mood as well, triggering an extremely strong flight urge, and ne couldn’t help snapping back at him.  “You aren’t making any sense! They’re the same thing!”

“Okay, okay, sorry. Look." He scrubbed a hand through the short, yellowish fur on the top of his head. "My name is Alex, right?”

Thirtytwo's ears flicked. "Alexander Marcus Sullivan Sol.” That had been on the crew briefing that was sent out before Alex had come on board for the first time. Pronouncing it was a little bit difficult, because neir translator didn't pick up those sounds as translatable words. It always seemed odd to Thirtytwo that the Terran's name was just… gibberish.

“Right. Now, do all those words say what I am?”

Thirtytwo’s spines were beginning to soften out of their defense posture. “Sol means… you’re from the Sol system…”

“And the rest?”

“I don’t know.” They seemed to be nonsense words, but ne didn’t want to offend Alex by saying so. “They don’t translate.”

“Where I come from, names aren’t just… a label, so you can be sorted or ordered around. Names are a way to differentiate you from everyone else. They’re a word or combination of words that very specifically mean you.”

"So they're… descriptive words." 

"Sort of. They can be. Most Terrans are named by their parents, or whomever raised them. Sometimes it's a traditional family name, or maybe the name of someone else they want to honor. Or sometimes, they pick it hoping that the kid will grow up to have the qualities of their name."

"So… what does your name mean?"

Alex paused for a moment, then shook his head. "Actually, hold on a minute." He picked up the datapad he'd brought in with him earlier and started tapping away. Probably accessing one of those databases only the higher castes had access to. "Alex is short for Alexander, meaning 'defender of men'," he read aloud.

"So… a warrior? That sounds like a caste assignment."

Alex shrugged. "That's just a coincidence. My dad was an agricultural laborer, Mom ran the transport for the company Dad worked for, and Tati stayed home and watched the kids. I was the only one that took military service, the others chose to work with Dad."

"And Marcus?"

"Eh…" Alex scrolled on his pad, was quiet a moment, then shifted a little in his seat. "It relates to an ancient god of war."

Thirtytwo gave him an unimpressed look. "You're not proving your point, here."

[idyllic-affections]

Hi! I love your blog!

Can I request an older brother scaramouche comforting a teen!reader who cries a lot? Probably from loud noises or frequent bouts of anxiety

the art of being gentle.

summary. the balladeer does not need to be gentle to show that he cares.

trigger & content warnings. anxiety, scara's a bit mean but he does mean well, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. comfort. scaramouche & younger sibling!reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. hello lovely! thank you sm. a random thought, but a lot of people seem to quite like platonic scara content? i don't mind writing for him at all, since most people on my blog seem to be fond of my rendition of him, but i just thought it was interesting hehe

scaramouche is an easily agitated man.

his workload is difficult enough to manage as it is. being a harbinger, contrary to what the lower ranked members of the fatui seem to think, does not simply mean being out on the field constantly. it doesn't simply mean fulfilling the tsaritsa's international desires, such as snatching gnoses from their godly owners. it doesn't simply mean bloodshed. there is far more to it than that.

there's paperwork.

there's a fuck ton of paperwork.

scaramouche very much loathes that part of his job. he sometimes thinks of hiring someone else (more like threatening someone else) to do it, but then again... any error could be held against him in the end. he always ends up doing the mountains of work himself. as such, the balladeer does not take kindly to interruptions.

the knock on his office door, meek and quiet, makes his head snap up. the grip on his pen tightens slightly. with irritation evident in his voice, he sneers, "what?"

a wave of what he thinks is guilt or regret washes over him when his sibling—his cherished baby sibling, the most important person to him—steps into his office and shuts the door behind them with trembling hands. fuck... he feels impossibly bad, though he shoves those feelings down into the depths of his mind to the best of his ability with a slight grimace. a weight settles on his chest almost immediately he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. his expression then softens slightly.

no, the sixth is not gentle. he is not. he hasn't been gentle for a very long time.

even so, he'll do his best. he hates seeing them cry, and based on the shimmery gloss over their eyes... they are about to, his tone doing nothing to help their emotional state.

he tries to think of something to say—are you okay? what's on your mind? who made you feel this way? the words, however, do not come out. his throat tightens. it's as if the simple thought alone of expressing concern for another being made him uncomfortable. it was unfamiliar territory, in his defense. scaramouche has not had to worry about another's wellbeing for... centuries, maybe. he can't recall the last time he verbally consoled someone.

"sit down."

it comes out harsher than he intends, and he winces slightly at the sound of his own voice. he fidgets with the pen in his hands. suddenly, the paperwork on his desk—expense reports for the regrator, mission reports for the jester—seems far less relevant.

he still doesn't say anything. he only observes silently as his sibling settles in the chair in front of his desk.

"um," they begin, swallowing back some of their anxiety as they fidget with the edge of their sleeves. "i know you're busy. i'm sorry."

"the hell are you apologizing for?"

"just... um, just for being bothersome, since i know you have work to do and—"

"the other harbingers can fucking wait," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "you come before those heartless bastards, always. spit it out. what happened?"

no, the balladeer is not known for being gentle, but he cares.

maybe it's hard for others to comprehend, but when he always ends up holding them tightly in his arms as he finishes up the last of his work with one hand, the other's calloused fingertips drawing random shapes on their upper arm, it's obvious to the one person who matters.

being gentle is an art that scaramouche may very well never master, but in the end...

he doesn't have to be gentle to show that he cares.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[pinkwright]

this whiskey got me feeling pretty | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — ex!shuri x ex!y/n

trope — exes that can't (or won't?) move on

inspo — higher by rihanna & love drought by beyoncé

warnings — drunk!reader. patient, soft!shuri. theyre both hurting. reader is a bit unfair to shuri. in my head this isnt the first time shes done this. toxic relationships if u squint hard. they still love each other. angst. fluff if you squint then wear glasses too. riri is mentioned (let's pretend that shuri messaged her before they left okay). readers kind of a mess okay. shuri's thoughts are shown too.

a/n — this is for valentine's day but it's not even lovey like that my bad yall blame rihanna n beyoncé for making me replay these album over n over. anyway enjoy ! <3

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @shurismainbxtch @verachii @rxcently @shuriszn

ஜ

i wanna go back to the old way but i’m drunk instead, with a full ashtray. with a little bit too much to say.

the bass reverberating through the walls makes you dizzy, the world feels like it’s spinning under your feet, and the flashing lights make it difficult for you to focus. the braids are slipping out of the messy bun on your head, laying heavily on the heat of your skin, adding to the heaviness in your heart that was lifted temporarily by the drinks and making it settle heavier than before.

suddenly, the steady pump of music isn’t freeing, it’s suffocating, knocking the wind out of your lungs as you blink hard, your emotions flowing out so quickly that it knocks you off-kilter. the rush of your heart in your throat forces your words to strain, “hey ri, think i’m gonna step out for a second,” then you’re avidly shaking your head at her, pulling her into a hug when she makes a move to follow you out, and the action slightly quells her worries, “no, no, you stay, i just need some air.”

the hesitant nod of her head compels you to send her the best reassuring smile you could manage, your head clouding in a way that makes you panic, needing to get outside quickly. you push your way through the sweaty bodies, your skin crawling in overstimulation as you finally step out, the cold breeze brushing against your skin when you walk to take a seat on a nearby bench.

you bring your hand up to press against the ache in your chest, feeling the oncoming of what you know is a panic attack, and close your eyes as you hold your breath, counting to ten slowly. the haze in your mind doesn’t lift but it settles enough to push you to do something you know you would never dare to do sober.

“…s’thandwa?”

and her voice makes a lump form in your throat, she sounded hesitant, and worried, her shock ringing warning bells in the depth of your spirit. and maybe it’s because you’ve downed a little too many cups of whiskey, or because she carves the edges of your usual strong, independent self, into the soft, open, and vulnerable side of yourself, but you find yourself standing on the defense.

“you piss me off so much, do you know that?” your voice is trembling as you continue, “why can’t i hate you, shuri? i want to lie to you and tell you how much of a fucking ass you are or how much i don’t miss anything about you or how much i don’t fucking think about you,” the harsh words lack bite and conviction as the lump in your throat crawls out of your lips, and your voice is breaking on a sob.

"but i can’t, i can’t because i can’t see past my devotion to you. and i know, i know i could be more creative and tell you poetic lines but i just miss you.”

the line is silent as you sob pathetically, the loud thumping of the club behind you doing little to dampen the sound of your heartbreak and you feel pathetic, after all, you were the one to end things with her. the sound of her letting out a shaky sigh reaches your ears, and you can almost see the anguish that makes itself present on her delicate features, but still, still she manages to speak softly to you, her voice tender and soothing.

“don’t move, okay? i’m on my way.”

the words ground you in a way, the raging pump of your veins quelling, the harsh beat of your heart recognising the object of its affection, but your body still aches in longing. you mutter out a quiet agreement when she prompts you to respond, and time seems to warp in your head as you wait, your eyes stuck on the beads as the call continues silently minus the sounds of shuffling and the gentle hum of shuri’s car.

you’re still staring at the device when you hear the opening of a car door, both through the device and near your seated figure, you don’t look up even as a body, her body steps in front of you. she sighs before crouching before you, her hands moving to rest on your cold thighs before pausing in their journey and opting, rather, to gently pry the beads from your tight shaking grip.

you don’t look at her. even as she tenderly grips your triceps to pull you to stand, nor as she seats you in her car, carefully strapping you in, the car is warm and silent as you look at your hands. the tears silently track down your cheeks as your body trembles from anxiety and the guilt you've been ignoring pushes at the forefront of your mind, taunting you.

she’s driving fast, not that you would notice, aching to get you somewhere safe, to, once again, be that pillar of comfort she was to you. and shuri's hurting, hurting because she knows you're trying, trying to care for her by keeping your distance, but you're still caught up in your permanent emotions, stringing her fragile self along with the dainty hope you spit at her over and over again. and the idea sends shuri into a daze, feeling like she's everywhere but nowhere all at once.

once you reach her apartment, she’s pulling your unresponsive figure through her door and moving to seat you on her messy bed, the action snaps you out of your dissociative state though you still feel like you're floating in the air. your eyes slowly raise to find her shifting through her wardrobe, clearly looking for something to dress you in, and your lips part before you can think, the alcohol in your system giving you courage, “shuri, i…”

you trail off as she tenses, her movements stuttering before her hands tightly clench around the articles of clothing, turning around with an unreadable expression on her face, and coming to stand before you. she reaches her free hand to tenderly grab your hand, pulling you to the bathroom and your legs feel like lead as she places the clothes on the closed toilet before her hands drop to your waist, hesitant like she has been all night, lifting you to sit on her sink where she moves to stand between your legs, reaching for items to clean you off with.

“i’m drunk with a little bit too much to say.”

the bluntness of your voice makes shuri pause in removing the makeup on your face, and for a reason beyond her, your words make her lips twitch in amusement before she continues her actions, throwing the cotton pad away, before she speaks and her voice is so soft and so loving, “you always have too much to say.”

once the words register in your hazy mind, your jaw drops in disbelief and offense, the slow blink you give her coaxes a soft chuckle from her, and the familiarity of the situation makes your stomach sink. her eyes are tender as they sweep over you, trying to cement in her mind that you were okay, safely within her reach, or at least physically within her reach, before she's guiding you off the sink, leaving you to get dressed.

her eyes had dropped to your lips, and she caught herself before she could place a tender peck on your full pout, her mind is reeling as she closes the door behind her, then the tears gather in her eyes as she sighs heavily, looking to the ceiling. her heart is violently clenching in anguish, you were so unfair to her, no matter how regal, or powerful she was, she was still human, and she wondered if you thought about that when you were playing your push-and-pull game with the strings of her heart.

as her hand tiredly slides down her face, she finds herself feeling lost in the middle of her bedroom, standing still like she had no purpose, no reason in the space that was once yours and hers. the door to the ensuite is clicks open and she’s schooling her expression, turning to face your meek figure dressed in her sweatpants and a large plain shirt. she lets her eyes fix on you, the same pain you bestowed upon her heart, lifting in your presence.

there are tears in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, and it makes shuri’s chest ache to see you like this so she slowly steps towards you, knowing how jumpy you get when you’re vulnerable like this, and lifts her arms to wrap around your shoulders as you let out a heart-wrenching sob, one that digs itself into her ribs, freezing the blood in her veins and she wishes she could hate you too.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry i hurt you, shuri.” your words are wet and remorseful, your tears staining her sleep shirt as your arms tighten around her waist so hard it makes it difficult for her to breathe, but shuri welcomes the embrace, knowing no pressure compared to the crack of her heart under the weight of your confession. she swallows thickly before responding, the tears blurring her vision as she moves to rest her chin on your head, her voice is shaky, tender, sewn with a deep seed of hurt.

“i know, i know you are, baby.”

her arms tighten around you as the term of endearment makes you sob harder, and she's pulling you closer as she walks toward her bed, her hands soothingly rubbing along your back as she gently deposits you onto her soft sheets. and everything she does to you is so tender, so soft, so gentle that it makes the guilt claw at your aching throat, and your arms tighten around her when she goes to pull away.

“please stay, please.”

the raw desperation in your voice makes shuri still for half a beat, her eyes shutting tightly before she hesitantly shifts to lie beside you, your arms refusing to let her get too far, using your close proximity to gently guide her hand to lay across your waist, then moving your arms to wrap around her shoulders, nuzzling into her neck like a lost puppy.

the room is silent, and shuri’s thinking about how much your love could kill her, how you try to kill her, and her head taunts her with the idea that you knew she would spend her life in the dark to give light to yours, planting seeds of doubts in her mind. when your hesitant voice cuts into her spiraling thoughts, she's tightening her hold on you to ground herself, “do… do you still love me?”

you sound small, and remorseful, your head digging into her neck like you’re embarrassed, and she can hear your heart rate speed up like you’re fearful, and it makes her clench her eyes tighter in pain, her lashes clinging to each other before she's exhaling a heavy breath, what did she do so wrong to have you, her lifeline, try to kill her?

“you know i do.”

and all the loving i've been giving goes unnoticed. it's just floating in the air, lookie there, are you aware?

ஜ

[take-everything-you-can]

Helllooooo Eddie blurb idea!!

It's a trope but always one of my favourites - Eddie has a nightmare and needs reader to comfort him? ✨️

Oh God I love this idea, an insomniac who has hella nightmares !! Say Less! I took my sleeping meds so this has not been edited at all. I just wanted to at least get this out before a delirious haze started to set in, before the words started to make no sense to me but alas ..... Thank you so much for this blurb idea my inbox is always open for more !!! Love ya ! @like-what-the-fuck-scoob

Pairing : Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Word count: 1k

TW: I don't think there are any but if you see any please let me know. I do put all my writing under 18+Minors DNI no matter what !!! There is some slight angst but this is truly all Fluff .

Black Clouds and falling ash the swarm came faster and faster no matter how much he willed his feet to move. Vines scattered the ground like veins wrapping into the earth as ivy would the side of a house. All it took for him to lose his footing was a look back over his shoulder and it was already too late. With a searing pain to his abdomen and another to his shoulder, the swarm of Demobats lightly lifted as their teeth sank into Eddie's skin through his flesh and finding bone, a body thrown to the ground as a defense to make their enemy immobilized and Eddie thought of you. The last thing he thought of was you. 

Gasping for air as he shot up, body drenched in sweat, sheets damp. He notices you still haven't made it to bed. A few hours ago he had left you in the living room of your newly shared home with the light of a lamp and a good book he had bought you a few days prior. You had told him how excited you were to start it and his body had been plagued with exhaustion, normally he would have stayed next to you cracking the worn spine of his own novel in hand but he could just barely keep his eyes open then, now he was wide awake. 

He wrapped the quilt off the bed around himself as he made his way down a small hallway and into the living room finding you exactly where he had left you , except this time when he rounded the corner you had a mug of tea and a plate filled with bits of cheese and crackers. A small snack to nibble while you read. 

You only pried yourself away from your book as you felt the cushion of the seat next to you dip with Eddie's body weight. 

“Hey Babe.” Closing your book you set it down on the coffee table. He hums in your direction looking to the floor refusing to meet your eyes. “ Eds ? You okay? You upset I didn't go to bed with you ?” He wasn’t , he couldn’t even remember a time he had even been mad at you. Something he cherished, you just got him, understood what he thought was damage. You had your fair share of tough times. Something you both had in common from the start was how hard it was to let people into your life and to put trust into those people. But the second that you did,  he knew instantly he loved you, even if it did take him five years and almost dying to tell you, but before he could reassure you of that, you started up again.

“I’m sorry I know it’s late.” looking at your wrist the time flashed three fifteen a.m. “ Really late but I just got so wrapped up in this book.” He opens his arms, taking and pulling you across his lap and into the blanket cocoon with him, he nuzzles his face into your hair as he takes a few deep breaths breathing in the delicate waves of coconut and rose, a combination of shampoo and conditioner you liked to use. 

“ I had the nightmare again.” You pull away from him slightly as you place a hand on either side of his face. 

“ Hey It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay. See? “ You take one of his hands and hold it over your heart and let him feel the rhythm of the beat and then place it over his own letting him feel his own letting him see that his sounded  just as strong as your own. As his breathing begins to catch his lashes begin to fill with unshed tears letting only one fall over the curve of his cheek, but a swift mover of your fingers wipe the tear away before it can settle along his jaw and take its fall to his neck. “ We made it out of that hellscape okay? We Have A beautiful home, An alive set of friends for your sacrifices , we had the most amazing wedding , wayne is good , life is good and we are here. Me and you, always and forever.” 

“ Always and forever.” A sounded call to the words that left your lips and a small smile crawled across his face. “ Can you come to bed now? I don’t want to go back in  there alone.” It made your heart seize the words that came from him in a soft plea and silent please on his tongue. 

“Anything for you Eds.”  He lifted you both off of the couch in a bridal hold as he started to round the corner he first appeared from, stopping only to lean you down just enough to shut the lamp on the table beside the couch off. 

Sliding you into the sheets of your bed he walked to his side as you threw your shorts off  to the side, opting to sleep in one of Eddie's old worn out band tees and underwear. 

He tossed the quilt back onto the bed letting you get enough around yourself before wrapping an arm around your waist pulling you into his space. Weaving the other beneath your head, finding the hand you would prop under your chin when you slept and fitting his fingers against yours he started to feel whole again . Like the bats didn’t take anything from him at all , with your back flush against his chest he felt as if you were one being not two separate souls.

You started to hum a song , one that always made your anxieties soften and you hoped now it would do the same for Eddie. 

The notes of once upon a dream started to sooth you and you could feel Eddie's body soften and tension ease as the song went on. A small breath to your neck was the only sign that gave away he was still fighting sleep. You tried to match his breathing, finding your own body was becoming lax within his hold. A small whisper before your eyes found the black static behind your lids, a barely audible “ Always and forever .” An echo instinct before slipping completely.

“Always and forever.”

[beanghostprincess]

Oh my god man just read your childhood sanuso au and I gotta say, it's such a nice read. One of my favorite tropes are childhood best friends who lost each other then reunite it's so beautiful.

And when you wrote how Nami said Usopp talks about him, ugh literal heart eyes

I have this hc where before Sanji, Usopp and Nami would be the one taking care of the kitchen and food so I can just imagine Usopp yapping about his old best friend to Nami while they're preparing dinner together and she's just nodding along not believing him in the slightest but still happy to listen

Like they'd be chopping vegetables for some simple stew and Usopp would open his mouth, "you know Nami, I actually met one of the best cooks in all of east blue when I was little, dare I say he was the best in all the seas" and he starts to ramble as Nami just goes "oh yeah? Mhmm" to him 😭😭

Love your little fic thing man it's such a treat

It's one of my favorite tropes too!!! I think they totally have the energy to be childhood BFFs. It fits them so damn much!

Nami would not believe a word Usopp says. Not her. Not anybody. Because, okay, saying "I used to have a cook best friend" isn't really that unbelievable. But the way Usopp talks about Sanji is so dramatic and poetic that they genuinely don't believe a word he's saying because it sounds too fantastic and too good to be true. Luffy won't stop mentioning they need a cook, and Usopp acts the same way every time and starts telling all the stories and little adventures they had (by 'little adventures' meaning 'we once sneaked into Kaya's home and baked cookies with her in the middle of the night and one of her caretakers was really angry but instantly gave up when he tasted the cookies because Sanji's food was just too good'. Which sounds like a real thing that happened. Because it happened. But they don't believe a word he's saying anyway because of the way he talks about him it's... Too romantic and imaginary to be true). Zoro and Nami don't believe that he had a friend like that (because he genuinely speaks about Sanji like a fucking God of food) and Luffy won't stop saying things like "If you know a cook you should've said it sooner!! Where is he now???!! Perhaps he joins us!!" but it's a very sensitive topic for Usopp and he refuses to tell them the truth, so he just smiles bitterly and says "We had to go separate ways I- I don't know where he is but!! But he wouldn't join us, anyway! He'd stay loyal to his captain! (referring to himself)". This is kind of why Nami and Zoro don't believe him either, y'know? The way he talks about being someone else's captain like it's a real thing.

Usopp wants to find Sanji again, he really does. But he also doesn't want to because it's embarrassing for him to find Sanji again and tell him he's the sniper of another pirate crew instead of having one of his own. The thought of Sanji joining them is great and he's dying to meet him again, but just thinking about Sanji being somebody else's cook makes his blood boil with envy. Even if it's Luffy. He loves Luffy. He knows he'll be the king of the pirates, and there's no doubt about that. But damn... He can't help but wish, just a little bit inside, behind all the jokes he makes about being a captain, that he was still Sanji's captain.

Then they meet again and none of them can believe that Sanji is actually real. And he actually calls Usopp captain??? And it's- It's just too much, man. Luffy gets a bit defensive over his title and says that no, HE is the captain and not Usopp. And Sanji is a bit confused at first and shame takes over Usopp because: "So- So you are not the captain, then?"

Usopp: Well, It's- It's a vague thing, right, Luffy? It's a shared- Luffy: It's not a shared thing, I am the captain. Zoro's the first mate. Nami is our navigator- Nami: I am not your anything. We're just working together! Luffy: And you are our sniper!!! Sanji: You're the sniper, then? Not the captain? Usopp: .... I really tried to- Sanji: It's fine. Don't worry. I'm sure your gorgeous navigator right here is starving. What do you all want to eat?

It's a bit uncomfortable. Really. Everything's the same as in the original story except that now you need to add a scene of Usopp explaining what really happened to the crew when Sanji goes away, and Luffy going "You might not be the captain but he could still be your cook!! I want him with us!!" and Usopp keeps saying that he doesn't need to do anything for him. Luffy actually says he's not. He just likes Sanji's food. Sanji refuses to go with them, yadda yadda yadda. And Usopp goes to talk to him because, despite being ashamed, he really, really wants Sanji back in his life. It kind of goes like this (I don't do narration today guys I just woke up and I maybe write a fic so y'all will have to wait):

Usopp: So... You're not coming with us? Sanji: .... I have stuff to do here. I can't just leave. Usopp: But you're not happy here- Sanji: How do you know that? Usopp: Because I know you! Sanji: We've been what?! Nine years without seeing each other?? You don't- Usopp: So you're going to find the All Blue trapped in here? That's what you're saying? Sanji: It's not- Usopp: Sanji, you can't just throw away your dream- Sanji: Throw away my dream like you did?! What happened to Captain Usopp, huh?! What's the point of finding the All Blue if you're not my captain?! What's the point of only one of us achieving our dreams?! Usopp: ... I'm sorry. I really tried to, I just- Maybe dreams change? Maybe I'm just meant to be a sniper! An adventurer. Like my father is. That's enough for me. If you accept Luffy's offer then we will be together and- Sanji: And you won't be my captain. I don't think I can- Shit, Usopp, I waited for you. For so long. Usopp: I might not be your captain anymore, but you're still my cook! You will forever be my cook and- If I go away and I don't bring you here with me I will forever regret it. Not going with you was the biggest mistake of my life, please. Sanji: ... I'm kind of glad you didn't. I nearly died the week after I left Syrup Village. Usopp: ??? What???! Sanji: Long story short, bad weather, Zeff's crew attacked us, ship sunk, got stuck in a huge-ass rock without food, Zeff saved me, uh- Yeah. Long story. At least you were safe, so- Usopp: I could've been with you. Sanji: Or you could've died. Hey, just- Let me do my own thing, okay? It was nice seeing you again... Captain.

You know the drill, Sanji has his talk about the All Blue with Luffy. Everything is kind of the same? The soup thing. Zeff fights with Sanji. Zeff tells Luffy to take him with him. Etc, etc, etc. You just need to have in mind the 'Usopp factor' and that Sanji needs to learn to see Luffy as his captain (not hard, because it's Luffy) and learn to see that Usopp's dream wasn't being a captain, but to be more than what people thought he was. And with this crew and Luffy he'll be able to do so. So Sanji happily joins them and he sees Usopp as the best adventurer and bravest pirate already. Like, in his eyes, getting to know Usopp again is the most exciting thing in the world + having a new captain he trusts with his life + getting to achieve his dream.

I don't want to use this post for more because I think I'm getting too carried away, but... You know. Everything is extremely sweet. They have the same canon dynamic but Usopp really, really tries to act braver and show off more in front of Sanji. He wants to live up to his expectations. But then he gets scared easily and Sanji doesn't mind at all because he knows how his best friend is, it's alright. He'll protect him. He'll do what he can't. On the other hand, Sanji is- He's the happiest he's ever been. He's sometimes so done with Usopp's shenanigans, but I think he's extremely clingy with him. They're not dating but they're... It's so obvious. The closet is glass and Sanji's hatred for men and internalized homophobia does not exist when it comes to Usopp. I mean, a bit of internalized homophobia is always there, but at least he doesn't try to be the straightest man alive when he's with Usopp. They feel like kids again when they're together and they have,,, So much fun. They sleep cuddling together because Sanji has missed him so much and likes having Usopp close. Usopp stays with him every time Sanji cooks. Nobody gets the inside jokes they make in front of everybody. Sanji is way more vocal about his feelings for him and keeps referring to Usopp as his best friend to anybody who asks. Usopp tells stories that are definitely not true to Sanji but Sanji nods and accepts them happily anyway. Usopp tells him about how Kaya had a crush on him, and Sanji is extremely confused because he's like "No?? She told me she had a crush on you?" and Nami is behind them like "You two are fucking idiots. She wants both of you. Now deal with it without fighting on deck, please." And they- They don't really know what to do with that information, so they send her a letter asking (and panicking about it) and she responds with another one, saying that Nami is right and if it's not too impertinent and selfish she'd like to wait and see both of them to tell them how she feels face to face. Until then, she'll wait for them. Usopp and Sanji don't really, uh, talk about it. Basically, they're the clingiest thing ever and everyone knows what's going on between them except them.

I have thoughts about how Water 7 would play out with these two, but I don't know if you're enjoying it enough for me to write the biggest post about it??? Idk. Let me know. I feel like I'm making this post too long. I am sorry-

[thru-the-grapevine]

Irish Breakfast

Pairing: Kim Geonhak x reader

Summary: The man you have no business pining over makes an unexpected reappearance in your life, albeit in less-than-ideal condition.

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags: mafia au, blood/injuries (<- despite the tags the whole thing is still soft)

Author Notes: another submission for the Oneus Trope Bingo hosted by @oneusficevents ! This is for my “mafia au” square. I’ve never written anything like this before so I’m nervous to post, but I hope it’s enjoyable

Annoying, you think, that an entire beverage is going to remind you of a man you can’t have. Especially a beverage as widely versatile as tea.

You turn off the timer and go back into the kitchen, taking the teabag out of your mug. You’ve been branching out to new teas since the first evening you’d tried it in the safehouse, sampling them little by little. You now own a small village’s worth of tea boxes, after watching in horror as your best friend swiped her arm along the shelf of teas at the store and into your cart, insisting it was her treat. You’ve found you don’t care for straight green tea or matcha (green bean water, more like), but you like jasmine just fine, peppermint too. English Breakfast is okay, just not as malty, and chai is good if you add more cream than usual.

Tonight, though, you’re allowing yourself to Admit and Mope Over having feelings for a made man. Which, naturally, means your tea is his favorite, Irish Breakfast. You set the teabag in your spoon and wrap the string around it, wringing extra tea into the mug. You’ve gotten rather good at it with practice.

You turn to throw out the teabag when you hear a muted thump from somewhere in your apartment.

You stare, unmoving, at the teabag dangling in your hand over the garbage bin. It swings gently back and forth, and you try a deep breath. One, two, three four. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

By the end of the deep breath, no more noises have come. You drop the teabag in the bin and turn back to your mug, only partly aware of reaching for the sugar. Pal, chill out. Someone came home across the hall and dropped their groceries. The box of Christmas decorations finally teetered off the shelf in the closet. Kids down below jumped too high on their bed and whacked into the ceiling.

Your phone vibrates sharply against the counter, and you drop your spoon with a clatter. You crane your head aside to glance at the screen.

LEEDO: u can say no but do u mind if I stop by?

You snatch your phone clumsily and fumble to the app with live feeds of your security camera. A raven-haired man in office slacks and dress shirt is leaning heavily against your front door. As you watch, his knees buckle under him, and you hear another thump as he crumples against your doorframe.

“Shit,” you hiss. You drop your phone on the counter and hurry to the front door.

Geonhak catches himself heavily on the doorjamb as you ease the door open, a final defense against collapsing entirely.

“Hi,” he murmurs, sounding for all the world like he’s fine and not a man who can’t stay upright.

You drop to your knees, trying to figure out where it’s safe to touch him. His entire left side, from head to toe, looks to be spattered in blood.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, guiding his right arm over your shoulders. You brace your hand against his back, heaving upward.

You manage to stay balanced, most of his weight on you, and stumble back inside. You’re careful to keep your hand at the center of his back, away from the side that’s drenched in red.

He sags back against the door as you shut it again, relieving you of crutch duty. Flipping on the front hall light, you try to get a better look at him. His side is littered with bloody hand- and fingerprints—probably from staunching the blood flow, you take a guess. There’s so much blood, it looks like so much. The blood on his face has trickled down from a matted spot in his hair.

“What can I do?” You ask, surprised at how calm you sound. “What do you need?”

A corner of his mouth quirks slightly. “Just towels.”

His voice is cottony, so un-Geonhak-like. A sliver of ice sinks into the pit of your stomach.

“Just….” You take a tentative step back from him to see if he’ll stay upright. He leans more heavily against your front door, and your hands hover there in front of him. “Just….don’t move.”

You fly into the kitchen, feet barely touching the ground, and yank open the drawer of tea towels. You grab the entire stack and flip on the sink, running a few under cool water. Your eyes catch on your mug on the counter, and after a second you grab it and bring it all with you.

Geonhak’s face is tilted towards the ceiling when you return, eyes closed. A thin line of blood is slowly trickling down the side of his neck. In the light of the entryway, positioned as he is, he looks like a hero straight out of a classical painting. Lordy. No man has any business looking this good bleeding out.

You set the mug gently on the hall table next to him and close the distance with the towels.

His head drops back down, eyes opening at your approach, and you offer him a wet towel. He murmurs his thanks, taking it and mopping his neck and face roughly while you unfold a dry one.

You rake your gaze over him carefully, heart pounding. His hair has grown out a bit since you saw him last. You note in the part of your mind that isn’t panicking that it suits him, although everything suits Geonhak. Gingerly, you scrape your fingertips along his hairline, combing his hair off his face and checking for more injuries. His jaw works and his throat bobs once, and you replace his thoroughly bloodied hand towel with another damp one.

“‘Woong’s in Chinatown tonight, won’t be able to get here for a half hour,” Geonhak says as he works, and you realize he’s apologizing. “He’ll take me to the safehouse and out of your h—”

“Like hell he will,” you say, swapping him for another fresh towel. “Finish mopping up and we’ll take my car.”

“Hwanwoong will come get me,” Geonhak mumbles, eyes closing as he prods at the spot on his head.

“And I said like hell,” you reply, your free hand going to the buttons on his shirt. “This needs to…move…so you can get to the spot on—oh, don’t look at me like that, you’re bleeding.”

“Interesting way to ask me to take my shirt off,” he murmurs with a shrug, smile as dangerous to your pulse as ever as his free hand starts unbuttoning.

Once he’s undone the first four, you shove another damp towel inside and grip at the injured place on his side firmly, making him hiss. Serve him right, flirting while bleeding out on my doorstep.

“Hold this there, tightly. Be right back,” you say, taking another bloody towel from him and scooping up the others.

You pause for a second, then gesture at the mug of tea. “For you.”

Within moments, you’ve thrown the bloodied towels in the drum of the washer to deal with later and grabbed several other things on the way back.

Geonhak’s finishing a long sip of Irish Breakfast when you return. Wordlessly, you hand him a few ibuprofen. A smile plays at his lips as he accepts them and downs them with tea.

“Off,” you say as he sets the mug down, waving vaguely at his blood-sodden shirt. “I’ve got something clean.”

“It’ll just get dirty, too,” he says, already undoing the final few buttons and shrugging it away.

Any other time you would admire him shirtless, but your focus now lasers in on the injury. After all the blood he was wearing, it’s surprisingly smaller than you feared. “I don’t care if it gets dirty, too. I have my first aid kit—”

“Just—” he winces when he presses against his side wound too hard, then sighs softly, “just…if you’ll drive me to a safehouse, I’ll get Keonhee to patch me up.”

Ah yes. Keonhee. A trained medical professional. Someone of actual use to him. “Let me get my shoes.”

You watch from the corner of your eye as he takes the oversized hoodie you offer him and finagles it on gingerly. You’ve grown so accustomed to Geonhak in office attire that anything else looks unfamiliar on him. You’re right, though; anything suits him. Your heart doesn’t seem to notice the oddness, twisting at the knowledge that the hoodie is yours.

Your staring doesn’t escape Geonhak’s notice.

“Don’t usually wear this kind of thing,” he says as you exit the apartment together. He leans into you for security as you lock your door.

“And why not?” You ask, heading for the stairs at a stilted pace.

Your face bumps into his neck as he stumbles, and he swears and apologizes under his breath. Despite the clear excitement he’s had tonight, you notice he still smells like the pine and eucalyptus soap you’d seen in the safehouse shower. You immediately try to ignore this.

He shakes his head as you both begin slowly down the stairwell. “Not taken seriously in street clothes. Look too young.”

You can feel him wincing with each descending step, and you slow your pace, keep the hand at his back soothing.

“Well, who wouldn’t take you seriously right now?” You ask as you reach the exit. You pause to heave your free shoulder against the door when it sticks. “Now? When you’re bleeding a concerning amount?”

“I’ve had worse,” Geonhak says mildly, misstepping and staggering against you as you exit into the night. You catch him, free hand landing against the front of his torso, and you mumble an apology as he winces and straightens again.

“Surprised you survived with these reflexes,” you mutter, hobbling with him through the parking lot in the warm summer night air.

You lay a towel along the back of the passenger seat before Geonhak sits; blood sounds horrible to get out of a car. He wordlessly plugs an address into your GPS once you start the car, and then you’re on the road.

The car is quiet as you follow the first few directions, save for the occasional GPS voice. Geonhak extracts his phone from his back pocket, wincing all the while. He taps away at the screen, likely notifying the safehouse and Keonhee, as you follow the directions onto a street that sounds vaguely familiar.

“Should I, um. Worry about being followed?” You ask, glancing at the passing headlights in your rear view mirror.

“Mm-mm,” Geonhak says, shaking his head slightly and pocketing the phone again. “Our guys got him.”

You refuse to consider what “got him” means in this context.

“I’m sure it’s pointless to ask, but what happened?”

Geonhak sighs, leaning back in his seat with a wince. The silence carries for a few minutes, and you begin to assume he won’t answer when he finally speaks.

“He didn’t like what happened at your shop this week.”

You stiffen as you stop for a red light. A blue-eyed smirk you’ve come to hate flickers to mind. The man who was the reason you’d met Geonhak in the first place; the man who was the reason you’d had to hide for a week in a safehouse meant for organized crime members. “Him?”

Geonhak leans his head back against the headrest, eyes shutting as he adjusts the towel against his head. He gives no indication to confirm or deny.

That isn’t allowed to be the end of it. “But nothing really even happened. He just…came in, to intimidate me again. And then he got spooked by your uncle and left.”

A corner of Geonhak’s mouth curls. “Technically, he was humiliated by a crime boss over muffins. To a lot of these guys, that’s something.”

Over muffins. The space in your chest for breathing begins to shrink. It was your fault. That man, the one who’d tried to convince you to let his boss run dirty money through your store, who kept showing up at your new storefront to intimidate you, had hurt Geonhak. He’d been so mortified by Geonhak’s uncle, who was there to defend you, that he’d taken it out on the man’s nephew for good measure. Not on you, who actually owned the store; him. Geonhak was hurt because of you.

“Breathe,” Geonhak says, voice firm.

You gasp in a breath and blow it out shakily, easing on the gas as the light turns green.

“Slower than that. There’s enough air,” Geonhak soothes.

You shake your head, each breath coming heavier and quicker. I did this to him.

He starts counting, and you take a deep breath and hold it like he taught you, blowing it out unsteadily. It does little to settle your jittery pulse, your whirling thoughts.

“Promise it’ll be over soon,” he says, glancing at the GPS. “In six minutes. Just drop me off at the front door and—”

“I—you’re kidding, I’m not just, just—leaving you somewhere,” you protest, grip tightening on the wheel. “You’re covered in…Geonhak, I did this to y—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

His voice is so suddenly sharp that your mouth snaps shut without another thought. His mouth is set in an even line, blue flame behind his eyes as he stares out at the road.

“You are good, and you are innocent, and you did not do this to me,” he says, voice dangerously even. “I won’t have you taking blame for that shithead. I won’t.”

You swallow, trying another slow breath in, out. You nod.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He blinks, still watching the road, but the hardness in his eyes dissipates.

“Me too,” he admits. “Shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

“No, it…I mean, I don’t mi…it’s—” You stammer, trying to figure out how to say you missed him without saying it outright.

Eventually you snap your mouth shut, face burning. You see him glance at you out of the corner of your eye, then lean further back into his seat.

“You, um.” A smile is playing on his lips. “The tea, earlier....I didn’t think you drank tea.”

Your face feels even hotter. You swallow. “…I do now.”

He doesn’t say anything the rest of the drive, but that smile stays in the corners of his mouth.

The address, an old brick bungalow, is different from the last safehouse—probably closer to where you live, you assume. The porch light is on, and you see movement in a window as you park along the curb.

“Stop, just—would you hang on a minute?” You huff as Geonhak opens his door, unbuckling.

You hurry out of your seat and around the front of your car as Geonhak tries to ease out by himself. He grunts in pain and stumbles over into you, and you sway as you attempt to keep balance for two people.

“I got it,” he says, trying to straighten, face twisting in pain.

“You really don’t,” you say firmly, locking your car and helping him up the walkway. “Cut the heroics.”

It’s Keonhee who opens the door as you reach the five little stairs up to the porch. You’re surprised to see him in pajamas and glasses.

“Up you get, come on,” he says, coming to Geonhak’s injured side and gingerly lifting his other arm over his shoulders. Keonhee glances over Geonhak’s shoulder and smiles at you, somewhat of a grimace. “I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but…”

Your smile is also half grimace, remembering the first time you met him, when he treated your black eye. “Agreed.”

Keonhee’s taller than you, so when he straightens, Geonhak’s arm stretches up higher, and he hisses.

“Son of a bitch, Keonhee, ow,” Geonhak grits through his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, get inside, you big baby,” Keonhee mutters. “I know for a fact you’ve had worse knife wounds before.”

Ice drops into your stomach; a knife. That man had gotten close enough to hurt Geonhak with a knife.

With Keonhee in the lead, the three of you shuffle sideways up the porch stairs and through the front door. To the left of the entryway is a little kitchen. To the right you see a small sitting room, with a couch covered in a few sheets. The coffee table has a spread of little tools that remind you of emergency room procedurals on TV.

“In there, if you don’t mind,” Keonhee says. “I made coffee before I remembered you drink tea, Geonhak, so there’s coffee if you want it.”

“Water for them,” Geonhak manages, panting as you help ease him to lie down across the couch.

You stick your tongue out at him but don’t argue. Your mind and body are starting to catch up with the shock of an injured Geonhak, and you don’t want to make yourself even more jittery.

Keonhee disappears briefly into the kitchen, emerging with a glass and a mug. You take the water gratefully, hiding yourself in the glass as you swallow back half of it.

When you lower it again, Keonhee is seated beside the couch and inspecting Geonhak’s head wound. He swabs at it with alcohol wipes and clucks his tongue.

“Stupid, but not awful,” Keonhee says, fighting a smile as Geonhak swears violently under his breath at a firmer prod. “Probably won’t even need stitches. Just bled a lot.”

“You’ll bleed a lot if you don’t cut that out,” Geonhak grumbles. Keonhee snorts and scoots back, lifting the hoodie to get a better look at his side.

“Need a few stitches here, though,” Keonhee says, pausing when Geonhak jolts from the rubbing alcohol sting. “Ribs hurt at all?”

“Not as much as yours will if y—shit,” Geonhak hisses at another pass of the alcohol wipe.

“Look at you, king of the streets, brought to your knees by antiseptic,” Keonhee says, grinning.

Geonhak glares at him, breathing heavily. “I say king of the streets one time, back in high school, and you won’t let it die.”

“Nope.” Keonhee pops the “p” and reaches for a few things on the coffee table.

You take a deep breath, setting down your glass with shaky hands. “Uhm, if I needed the bathroom, where…?”

Keonhee’s eyes are understanding. “Down that way, on the right. I’ll be quick. He’s seen worse.”

You hear Geonhak’s “fucking hell” from the living room before you close the bathroom door behind you.

You lean heavily on your hands against the sink and rest your forehead against the mirror, allowing yourself a moment in the whirlwind of thoughts. Knife wound. They got him. He’s been hurt worse before.

He came to me. When he got hurt, he came to find me. I got to see him again.

That’s what feels the most shocking, that he’s here, you’re here, back in his world, when you didn’t think you’d ever see him again. You know he’d told you it was for your own good that he keep a distance, and you didn’t think his reasons were bad. It still hurt, though, to make such a connection with him and then watch him disappear from your life like he’d never been there.

Well, now you’ve seen him again—covered in blood, admittedly, but nonetheless. He hadn’t been a figment of your imagination, after all. He’ll be on the mend soon, and then…

You gulp. That’s what’s scariest. How fleeting being here, being back in his circle, feels. You wish for selfish things for a brief moment—for a few more nights of Irish Breakfast, a few more conversations, even one more exchange of banter, for wounds that need time to heal, time you can spend with him. The thought that he’ll slip away again forever after this is…

A soft knock on the door startles you a little too much. “Hm?”

“He’s all patched up now, all fine,” Keonhee says. “Just needs a couple days of low activity and he’ll be back to normal.”

You sniff, leaning back off of your hands. “Good. I…good.”

There’s a pause. “I’d like to take a look at you when you come out. Customary check.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, coming out.”

You reach up to itch a spot on your cheek and blink when your hand comes back wet. You wipe under both eyes, hands coming away damp. When you glance at your reflection, you grimace at how blotchy you look. There’s no way to hide it, so you sigh and brace for the inevitable, opening the door.

Keonhee studies you for a moment, then says, “let’s see if I’ve got tea somewhere after all, hm?”

It feels a bit wrong to dig through his cupboards and pantry like this, but Keonhee encourages it, clapping your shoulder when you find an old box of orange pekoe.

“You’ll be staying tonight, of course,” he says after he cleans out the coffee pot and begins brewing plain hot water. “At least until the shock wears off.”

You purse your lips as you retrieve two mugs. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome…”

Keonhee scoffs, putting a tea bag in each one. “Please. You’re more tolerable than he is, swearing at me over a little scratch.”

“Is it really that minor?” You ask, watching yourself run a thumb over the lip of a mug.

“He’s just fine,” Keonhee says, firm and reassuring. “He’ll be back to intimidating us all at full capacity far too quickly.”

The nobler side of you relaxes at this. Your less noble side wishes for a few more days of bed rest. You try to ignore the less noble side.

“Perhaps I should worry more about you,” Keonhee says, studying you. “You’ve been well?”

You laugh once. “Oh, yes. I’m just fine. I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of a single made man until this week, much less tangled with any of them.”

You wince inwardly at how bitter you sound. Ridiculous.

Keonhee hums, taking the now-filled pot of hot water and pouring it into the mugs. “I see an awful lot of made men, but that doesn’t necessarily add or detract from any tangles. Surprising, how much you can see of them without being involved.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You realize with a pang that you’re almost jealous of him, of his ability to be involved but not involved.

He frowns at one of the mugs as it steeps. “I should go check how he takes it, I can never remember—”

“That’s alright, I’ve got it,” you say, waving that away and preparing both mugs.

Keonhee’s quiet as you labor over the tea. When he speaks, you can hear a slight smile.

“Good. I’ll go make up the air mattress, then, if you’ve got this under control.”

You make your way back into the sitting room slowly, trying not to spill either mug. Geonhak has every pillow propped up behind his back, an arm slung over his eyes. You frown when you see one of his ankles in a brace.

“You didn’t tell me your ankle was hurt.”

A corner of Geonhak’s mouth twitches. “Only twisted a little. It’s why I couldn’t keep better balance.”

He lowers his arm from his eyes and looks up at you. You lift his mug, nodding at it, and he inches his way further upright, grimacing.

“Let’s see how badly Keonhee did on this cup,” Geonhak says as he takes the mug.

“He didn’t make it. I did,” you say, sitting gingerly by his knees and blowing on your mug. “Two sugars, no cream. Strong. Brought the spoon when you want the bag out.”

You set your mug on the coffee table, now cleared of surgical instruments, and lift your teabag into said spoon, twisting the string round and draining the excess. You feel Geonhak’s silent, studying gaze and try not to let it fluster you as you find a wastebasket at the end of the couch to toss the teabag.

You take a sip of the tea, then blink. “You know, I always thought orange pekoe would be…well, orange flavored. But this is just another black tea.” Hmm. Suppose it can’t hurt to have around for guests, so the nicer teas can be for you.

“Damn it,” Geonhak sighs softly.

You glance over at him as you blow on your tea, raising an eyebrow. He’s cradling his tea placidly against his stomach, eyes shut.

“You make it so difficult.”

You blink. “So difficult to what?”

He opens his eyes and meets your gaze. “To stay away from you.”

Your lungs feel suddenly empty. Oh. Some warm and electric feeling zings up your spine.

You look down into your mug, pulse skipping. “…I see. My hopelessness when it comes to tea, back at it again.”

When he speaks, you can hear his smile. “Might play a part, maybe.”

You take another swig of tea, bracing yourself. “I wish…I wish you wouldn’t stay away, but I, you know, I get it. Promise.”

You shrug a shoulder, grimacing.

He purses his lips, then sets the mug down. “Mind getting the bag for me?”

You set your tea down and grab the spoon, finagling with the tea bag in his cup.

His fingers brush against your knee, backs of his knuckles rubbing gently back and forth. You swallow, throat surprisingly dry for how much tea you’ve drank, tossing his teabag and setting the spoon aside again.

“Don’t like when you’re in danger,” he murmurs.

You nod, picking your mug up again with shakier hands than you’d like.

“Don’t want to be the reason you’re in danger,” he says quietly.

You nod again, tilting your head thoughtfully and taking a sip of tea. “Keonhee’s got a lot of your guys in his life and he’s not in danger.”

“He’s under my uncle’s protection,” Geonhak says, not unkindly.

You shrug a shoulder. “Well…think I might be now, too. He intimidated that man into leaving and then left a hundred dollar tip for his muffins.”

Geonhak laughs once, and his hand opens on your knee, resting warm and firm.

“Touché.”

You take another sip of tea, gathering courage, then drop your hand to your knee and curl your fingers around his hand.

His gaze makes you feel shy, but you don’t look away, drinking in the way it feels to be looked at like this.

He shakes his head at himself, smiling wryly. “Knew exactly what I was doing tonight. Might’ve been easier to go to a few different places, but I went out of my way.”

His fingers squeeze yours.

“I just missed you,” he whispers.

It’s a good thing you hear Keonhee clattering back down the hall. You’re not sure you have the power of speech anymore.

Keonhee forces Geonhak to give up two pillows (“you have all the other pillows in my house, fiend, surrender one to me and to the guest”) and pushes aside the coffee table to make up your bed. It’s a good thing you were already in pajamas, you think as you sit at the edge of the air mattress. No need to sleep in clothes, unlike Geonhak, despite your hoodie.

When the lights go out and Keonhee goes back to bed, you spend a while staring up at the ceiling. You realize, too late, that there was caffeine in both of those teas. Late night caffeine intake versus shock exhaustion, fight.

“There’s, um.”

You glance over at Geonhak on the couch. He’s looking up at the ceiling, too. “There’s this place on the other side of town, a bar? But it’s got cats, like a cat cafe. Hwanwoong tells me you’d really like it.”

You purse your lips, fighting the massive grin threatening to take over your whole face. “I’ve heard of it. It’s got some cat pun name, yeah?”

“Yeah, I can’t think of it, either,” he says, laughing softly.

His hand reaches out and finds yours in the darkness. “Wanna try it with me, maybe? Like, in a week or two, obviously, or Keonhee will put my head on a stake.”

You laugh quietly, squeezing his hand. “I’d like that.”

His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, gentle. “Okay.”

When you finally fall asleep, your hand is still in his.