#sigh lover's quarrel

[ftm-megamind]

so last night i wasPOST CANCELLED JAVID TAKEOVER📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰📰

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lifts his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He wastes no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid himself of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor and I'm left in my shift, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then sinks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Lover's Quarrel

Pairing: Dark (aged-up) Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: You get away from Bakugo’s toxic clutches. But soon your peace comes to an end.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; minor Violence/Abuse.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

I just realized today is his birthday, so here it is :) hope you guys like this.

–

“...you better damn pick up my calls, (Y/N). I’m losing my patience here so you better get that fucking attitude out of your system or I’ll do it for you. Swear to god I’m gonna drag your stupid ass back home if you don’t come to your damn senses and if you fucking think that-”

You press a button, closing the voicemail with a sigh. Throwing your phone to the bed’s edge, you turn your back to it, curling yourself into a ball. 

Your mind is an unstable whirlwind of thoughts and worries and a solitary tear rolls down your face. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair.

You pull the blankets over you, but even their warmth isn't enough to calm the cold that scatters through your body. 

A sob breaks your composure and you hastily push your face into the pillow, smothering down the ugly sobs and whines that break out. 

It takes a long time until your eyes are finally dry and you have no more tears to weep.

But even afterwards, as you finally fall asleep, the heavy feeling still weighs on your heart.

Ding. 

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. 

Your friend looks at you and you’re quick to mute the notifications that pop up, eyes catching sight of the messages that Bakugo is spamming you before you black the screen. 

“I know I’ve asked before, but is everything really okay?” she asks, ignoring the movie on display in favor of looking at you, a concerned wrinkle settling between her brows.

“You seem… so distracted ever since you came. Is it about Bakugo?” 

You shift on the couch, uncomfortable. 

“It’s nothing.” you hesitantly tell her, measuring your words carefully. None of your friends know about the depth of Bakugo’s dark side and you’d rather not involve them.

Even though you’re almost sure that she suspects something is up, especially with the unannounced way you dropped by unannounced a couple of days ago, asking if you could stay a few days. 

“You can tell me, you know that, right? I’m not gonna judge or whatever.” 

You nod, giving her a small smile but no words come out of you despite the hefty weight on your mind. You don’t want to burden her with your problems. 

“I know, don’t worry. We’re just giving it some time. Lover’s quarrel and all.” you try to joke even though there's no humor in your smile.

"I see, okay." your friend draws a small smile, hesitating for a moment before letting it be. 

Work drags far too slowly. 

Boring paperwork to be filled, a few documents that need reviewing.

Nothing that actually manages to successfully distract you away from your current problems. If anything, it leaves you with far too much time for your mind to wander through your situation.

A definitive break-up is more complicated than what it seems as you’re aware that Bakugo won’t peacefully accept that. 

Just the idea of having to deal with an even angrier Katsuki has you cowering further into your chair and you distract yourself by opening your work email, digging into the emails that need to be answered. 

You’ll think about Bakugo later. 

“Later” arrives much earlier than what you expect.

When the clock hits 6 p.m you reluctantly turn off the computer, gathering your jacket and your purse. 

When you check your phone out of habit, the lack of messages surprises you. Strange.

Maybe Bakugo is finally catching the hints that you want to be left alone? You sure hope so.

You couldn’t be more wrong about it and you almost jump when your co-worker shrieks in delight, nudging your arm as you retrieve your car keys from the purse. 

“Oh god, he’s so cute, damn. Seems like someone was eager to see you.” 

Your heart drops at the sight of the blonde man that leans against your car, crimson eyes fixed on you.

“You’re so lucky. My boyfriend never comes to pick me up.” she whines before finally saying a distracted goodbye, throwing adoration filled glances at Bakugo when she walks away. 

For a moment, you consider leaving your car in the open parking-lot. You could take the bus to your friend’s apartment. It would be no big deal, only half an hour before reaching her place. 

But the impassive expression on your boyfriend’s face warns you not to ignore him and you don’t doubt Bakugo’s ability to cause a overly explosive scene right in front of your workplace. 

Your legs walk on their own towards him and he straightens up, pushing himself off the hood as he walks to you, meeting you half-way, far too close for your comfort.

He’s wearing civilian clothes, you notice. They make his firm muscles bulge from beneath the thin material, the veins in his arms popping out with his hands hidden in the pant’s pockets, as always.  

“What do you want?” 

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“Talk then.” 

Irritation seeps into Bakugo’s face. He’s never had much patience. 

“We can talk in your car. The keys.” 

Despite his stretched hand, you don’t deposit the keys in his palm. It’s your car. It’s your life. You have to fight for it. 

“Y/n.”

You take a step back, shaking your head. 

“If you wanna talk, then we can talk here. Out in the open.” 

The corner of his mouth twitches with ire, and it compels you to take another tiny step away from him. 

“Will you stop fucking stepping away from me?” his voice booms loudly through the empty parking lot, eliciting a wince from you. “Quit acting like I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp or somethin’. I’m just trying to take you back home, you idiot.” 

“But I’m not going back.”

“You are.”

You clench your teeth, hoping it would help ease out the incoming flow of angry tears that threatens to spill at any moment now. 

“I said. I’m not going back.” 

Bakugo ignores your words, losing his patience upon your refusal. 

“Like hell you aren’t. I’ve had enough of this stupid attitude of yours.”

His hand latches to your wrist, holding it in a bruising grip, tight enough for you to feel the bones in your hands being painfully compressed together. 

“Ah, Katsuki, you’re hurting me!” you cry out, attempting to release his grip by using your free hand.

But your fingers are far too weak to pull him away and he groans when your nails scratch him. It makes him grip your hand harder and you sob, body limpless following forward when Bakugo tugs you in his direction. 

You bump into his hard chest, head sharply pulled back with his callous hand enveloping the back of your neck, his large palm easily covering all of it.

The tall hero doesn’t even bother looking around, unafraid of the possibility of someone walking by. Bakugo’s never been one to be overzealous, much less now that the position on Pro Hero Number 2 belongs to him. 

“You’ve had your fun these past days. But it’s over now, y’hear me?” the tips of his fingers dig into your neck, and you’re barely able to hold his threatening gaze, already knowing that you’re not coming out on top of this.

“You’re coming back home with me. No fuckin' fuss, no complaining, and that’s final. Like hell I’m gonna let you get away from me, so you better start fixing that attitude.”  

He squeezes your neck, looking at you with deadly eyes. 

“You hear me? Brat.” 

He keeps his hand on the back of your neck when guiding you to your own car, unceremoniously pushing you to the passenger’s seat before claiming the steering wheel for himself. 

A few tears escape from your eyes and you turn your face to the window, ignoring the sharp looks Bakugo throws your way.

You hug yourself, all of your hope dissolving at the realization that you’re never truly gonna be free from him. 

[ellecdc]

Somehow I can see it being a tradition (as it was for my high school homecoming football game) that the partners of the quidditch team wear the alternate color jersey for big games

Cue Jamie and Sirius duking it out over whose number reader is going to wear

hahaha poor boys. thanks for the request!

poly!prongsfoot x fem!reader who can't choose between her boyfriends [558 words]

CW: mischief, the boys are pouting, Remus and reader being friendship goals

Remus told himself that in his next life, he would make sure to find friends who weren’t interested in competitive sports that would require him to sit outside in inclement weather to cheer them on.

Or perhaps he just wouldn’t make any friends at all. 

But then he saw you making your way over; eyes bright and smile wide as you waved at other students in the stands, and he knew he’d choose to be your friend in any next life too.

Damn witch, making him question all of his plans for possible reincarnation. 

“Rem! I brought something for you!” You shouted instead of saying hello once you made it to him, wasting no time in pulling a thick throw from your bag and blanketing it over his lap. 

“Y/N you beautiful, beautiful witch. If you weren’t taken two times over, I’d kiss you right on the mouth.” He proclaimed as he lifted an edge of the blanket for you to sit under as well.

It wasn’t polite of him; he was only doing it at the possibility of getting to share your body heat.

“You know what, Remus?” You said then as you jostled your shoulder against his. “If you weren’t taken as well, I’d kiss ya right back.” 

The two of you chuckled as the Gryffindor team filed out of the locker room before taking flight on their brooms, but Remus couldn’t help but notice that both Sirius and James - for as eager as they’d been this morning at breakfast for today’s game against ‘those slytherin gits’ - seemed rather melancholy. 

“Uh oh,” Remus murmured, “what’s going on with the captain and his favourite beater?”

You let out a snort, but Lily was the one to respond as she came to sit on your other side. 

“Lover’s quarrel in the locker room?” 

“No,” You sighed around a laugh, “they’re mad at me.”

“You?!” Lily and Remus chorused incredulously. 

You laughed again as you tried to wave at your two boyfriends; one simply scowled at you half-heartedly and the other offered you a rather pitiful wave in response.

“They were arguing over whose jersey I was going to wear today.” 

Lily and Remus shared a look of bemusement over your head as they looked back over to the team; Sirius and James splitting their time glaring at one another and looking longingly over at you.

“But, they both seem upset?” Lily asked cautiously.

“Right.” You agreed simply.

“Well?” Remus asked then. “Which one of their jersey’s did you wear?” 

“Neither.”

Another look was shared between Lily and Remus, ensuring the other could also see the red and gold jersey clearly donned beneath your jacket.

“Then whose jersey are you wearing?”

“Hey there, gorgeous!” They heard called from the pitch, both Lily and Remus turning to see Marlene waving enthusiastically at you and shooting you a cheeky wink. 

“Y/N!” Lily and Remus chorused again.

“What!?” You laughed, waving at Marlene and blowing kisses to your two pouting boyfriends. “It’s not like Meadows can wear her extra jersey! She plays for the other team!”

“You’re a minx.” Remus chided, though he felt a certain pride bloom in his chest for his friend, which Lily aptly expressed.

“Only fitting that two of the most mischievous blokes find themselves a girlfriend who can keep up with them.” 

Very fitting, indeed.

[dumbass-sappho-stan]

hit first and hit hard || challengers

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ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅꜱᴏɴ, ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴢᴡᴇɪɢ, ᴛᴀꜱʜɪ ᴅᴜɴᴄᴀɴ

— fem! reader

summary: the tennis girl weaves her way through simple lover's quarrels and one manipulative blonde boy.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦(?), 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴/𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 sleepy 𝘛𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘋𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘯

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜɪ! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ, ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ, ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ, ꜱᴏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ! ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.

​🇼​​🇴​​🇷​​🇩​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇺​​🇳​​🇹​: 7.7k

Read Part One here!

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙬𝙤: 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧

𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘿, 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼, 2007

𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺

The days following your fight with Art were rife with silence and solitude. Sequestered alone in your dorm, you lay there either working on your piling homework or listening to 'emo'-esque music to help funnel your emotions, but that still didn't help.

As much as you hate to admit it the one thing that did was tennis. Wanting to avoid Art and even Tashi, you went as early as possible. Every morning since the fight for at least a solid week, you got up at 4:30 AM, dressed, jumped the court fence to practice for about 5 hours, and exited just as the other 'early' players showed up.

It invigorated you to be energized early in the day and you sometimes smashed the ball or even your racquet if you felt like it. Being alone wasn't a new circumstance for you but it was certainly novel as of late. You were so used to Art's presence on the court and in your life.

Dinners were spent together, and silly chats you two had were the norm for at least a year. Not to mention the bizarre push and pull with the romantic tension between you two. Even before Stanford, you'd labored to get his phone number, after begging Tashi for a few days and speaking to him on the phone constantly.

Though, the blonde seemed just as ardent as you in your aversion to one another. He had tried calling you multiple times and texting but it was fruitless. You'd picked up the phone once to only put it back down.

 ⋆★⋆

"I'm so sorry," Art sobbed, he sounded as if someone had stabbed him, "I'm so, so sorry." You said nothing and stayed neutral. You, unfortunately, picked up the phone after Donaldson had called it 23 times in the past 2 days, and decided the 24th would be the last. It was time to be the bigger person and end the fight between you two.

"Me too, Art." Muttering drily you heard his hiccups stop, and a loud sigh of relief. You could almost feel the weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

He whispered your name softly, "I never meant to hurt you. I just... I wanted to say what I thought you wanted."

A sharp pain shot through your chest as those lethal words left his lips and pure white-hot vexation replaced whatever emotion had been there previously. It was silent between the two of you, which confused the boy.

Art called your name but was interrupted, "You know what I want Art Donaldson?" You roared, "For your fucking castration to be slow and painful!"

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The poor cutesy, pink Motorola Razr was no longer a phone after the conversation and lay shattered on your floor for days before you finally felt bad and threw it out. Your new one, a hue of bright cherry red, felt much more fitting for this new lifestyle.

Tashi you didn't actually avoid, more like you didn't tell her what was wrong. If beating around the bush was a professional sport you would've left tennis ages ago. Every time you and Tashi would be talking, in your small instants outside of your room or the court that week, Art would approach and you'd immediately give these automated lines;

"Oh shit, Tashi, sorry I got an essay to write!"

"Oops! I forgot I had a thing I have to get to so.."

"It's what time? I gotta go walk my fish!"

Ausispously, these went unnoticed by Tashi because in every single one of the instances you slipped away back to your dorm and to your desolation, without as much as a blink from your friend. If you weren't so content in your loneliness you probably would have been much more uncertain or at least unhappy about her sudden disconnect from you, but chalked it up to Patrick being in town for a longer period.

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𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞

𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞

The loud pounds landed dully against your door and woke you up immediately. Your body sat up and the sun's harsh blare into your tiny room flashed in your face, nearly blinding you upon waking up. You frantically glanced around your dorm room, seeing if it was something inside rather than external.

But no, all in your room were your postered walls full of music artists, art pieces themselves, silly photos of you and your friends from home (though most of those photos were overshadowed by Tashi's), and other miscellaneous items that sat around. In the small moment of silence between pounds, you began to slightly enjoy the pleasing sight of how pretty your room looked in the California dawning sun.

However, you were quickly slapped back into reality because the pounding had not ceased; seemingly getting louder if it was imaginable. What the fuck... That specific thought rattled through your foggy brain and your face contorted to deep confusion—even fear. Yet, you finally got the motivation to gradually inch toward the door, not even knowing who the fuck could be on the other side. The door rattled and shook explosively the closer you got until a hand to the handle.

The metal felt cool and smooth under your grasp. Soon flinching at the pounding and slightly wondered how your neighbors didn't get pissed off yet. But, you focused and opened the door.

Then there he was, Patrick Zweig, in all his glory posed in a mid-pound gesture at your dorm room door, staring straight at you.

"Hi,"

"Hey..."

Patrick soon pushed his way past you, walking into your dorm unphased. "Okay, just come right in.." You muttered, shutting the door behind you before turning to him. He stood in the middle of your room, inspecting it like he's the fucking DA. Nevertheless, he looked quite pretty as he was dressed in a simple white t-shirt with some dorky slogan and jorts—fit for California weather.

The silence was palpable between you two, Patrick seemed unbothered, almost jovial, and the signature devilish glint in his eyes. You, in contrast, glared at him like he was the spawn of Satan.

"Don't you look joyful?" Patrick chuckled, a playful smile soon following. Your scowl didn't budge but despite that, he came toward you with arms open wide, and enclosed you in a hug, "I'm certainly happy to see you." His words were muffled in the tangled mess that was your hair at this early of an hour. You hugged back briefly, then pressed him off.

"Pounding at my door at..." You glanced at the digital clock, "Jesus Christ, 7:15 in the morning?!" A small chuckle left Patrick again at his ability to get a rise out of you. You crossed your arms angrily and pinched the bridge of your nose with a sigh.

"Well, I'm eager to see one of my two special girls," He quipped, leaning back on your window sill with a surprising suaveness. That had become his nickname for you and Tashi over the past months. His 'special' girls were his way of flirting with you and getting on your nerves all at the same time. Both he and your best friend found it hilarious.

"Zweig, you have a pretty fucking odd way of showing 'enthusiasm'," A scoff left your lips just as you sauntered to the bathroom that was tangent to your room. The brunette soon followed and leaned on the doorway as you started your routine.

"I adore you, pookie!" A shutter audibly left you when he drawled out the terribly cheesy nickname. That one was the worst.

"Bleugh," You gagged, "Jesus Christ, Patrick why can't you be normal?" Somehow you frowned even deeper if that was even possible.

The boy laughed in reply, "Because who would be around to force you to have some fun?" Patrick looked at you with those eyes, his pretty forestry eyes that have broken hearts all across the country, they were meant for you. It made you want to stare back with your own, basking in it like a summer's day. And that smile, god— his smile was the sun itself. If Art was the ice, Patrick was the fire, the sun. The sun's light could always melt the winter's snow, you assumed he was with Tash for that similar reason. Opposites attract.

You started to feel yourself blush, your mind overthinking and repeating thoughts that all were about him, Patrick.

Patrick, Patrick, Patrick.

Hastily, you rushed to turn on the faucet and started to forcefully wash your face. Hopefully, it would wash away the shame that overtook the sudden rush of emotions for your best friend's boyfriend. Damnit, this is what happens when you don't get laid for a week... Scolding yourself internally, you washed your face and sighed to look back at him. As you expected, his eyes were still on you. But something had changed, the playfulness just wasn't there. It was something else, but you didn't have the time to place it before he looked away.

"So," Patrick spoke your name, "I haven't seen you for my entire time here, and..." He paused for effect, "I missed you."

You gasped dramatically and put a hand to your chest, "Me? Patrick Zweig misses me?" Teasing him with a smile, "What an honor! What's next, I get taken to the Dollar Tree?"

Laughter bounced off the small walls as the two of you were terribly unfunny and it was mutually known. It didn't stop you two from laughing at the stupidity of it. The laughter endured for a moment or two before it died down.

"But really," Patrick started to pull himself together, "I did miss you. Y'know how Art is these days, and Tashi only wants to talk about fucking tennis..." He stepped closer to you, close enough for his hand to slightly caress your free arm. "You're honestly my only friend right now..."

You laugh awkwardly, eyes darting everywhere from his own. Patrick was looking at you, you knew it, but if you looked now you wouldn't be responsible for what you would do after. Self-control was one of the better traits you'd taken from Tashi—you stepped away from his touch and smiled thinly.

"Oh come on Patrick," The shitty tile of your bathroom floor seemed more and more interesting as the seconds passed, "Tashi's just trying to help you." You knew what he was referring to as Tashi complained of Patrick's inability to listen to criticism.

Patrick scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, regardless didn't reply. He dropped the subject, realizing ages ago you'd always choose to defend Tashi over anyone else. He shifted back to his original plan.

"Okay, that's whatever, would you like to go out tonight then?" He asked, his original jovial tone returning, and suddenly like that, everything was okay. The bizarre tension was gone and you could meet his gaze with a knowing face.

"I'll think about it." That answer seemed good enough for Patrick, you witnessed a cheesy exclamation and a terrible fist pump to follow. You sighed at his absurdity but it finally got him out of your doorway as he sauntered back out to your room.

"Great! I'll see you at 8 tonight," He announced, walking toward the door and out the door before he could hear your faint, "Patrick I don't-"

It was suddenly silent in your dorm again. Which, you were grateful for as it meant now you had time to concentrate; you could possibly continue your new 15-step life plan of isolation and become the second-best tennis-female player of all time, Tashi would be the first. Or get black-out drunk tonight and forget all about everything. Each option was very crucial.

A few hours of homework later, you had determined two things like you had done a week ago. One, yes you did need to get black-out drunk, Two, you had to make more male friends that weren't your best friend's boyfriend or said boyfriend's best friend.

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The club was hot and sweaty, it felt as if it'd swallow you whole with the number of people who crowded around you. Dancing, grinding, touching. You hadn't drunk enough alcohol for you to start to enjoy this feeling so off to the bar you went. Patrick followed in tandem, keeping a good trail on you as he was the "designated driver", though you were sure that both of you were going home in a taxi that night.

Patrick ordered a round of 10 shots of assorted types of strong-smelling alcohol and smiled at you, though the smile made you queasy. It exactly mirrored Tashi's smile when she forced you to do shit.

"My favorite girl, pick your poison," The brunette snickered, taking in the blank features that had taken over. "Unless you're a pussy."

"Oh, I'm a pussy?" You raised your eyebrow in defiance, "Please, Patrick, watch and learn." Mirroring his confident smirk, you picked up one random shot and took it back. Then another, and another, and another... Soon there were only 3 shots left for your friend and your tongue started to go numb. The boy laughed at your efforts and followed your lead by taking the rest of the shots.

Shortly, you were on the dance floor, the colored lights seemed so much more welcoming and the touch of strangers felt like a blaze. You drunkenly danced with Patrick, spinning and moving against each other, hands above the waist for both of you as it felt anything but personal. Occasionally you two would make eye contact for too long and would just erupt in giggles and he'd take you for another spin. Patrick knew how to have fun and pulled you along for the ride.

During some Nelly Furtado song, you'd finally gotten fatigued of the club after who knows how long of dancing, drinking, and other illicit activities that involved a certain plant. You tugged at Patrick's collar of his shirt and he stopped his movement.

"Patrick," You slurred, "I wanna go home.." He looked down at your figure and nodded his head. Patrick led you off of the dance floor and finally outside of the club. You clutched onto his shirt on the walk to the car, which honestly felt like miles. Patrick filled the air with little comments about the people who had filled the club and it made you giggle. Though, as drunk as you were anything could've made you laugh.

"Yes! The car!" The grip on his shirt tightened as you through one of your hands in the air in celebration, "I'm so fuckinggg... tired.." You dragged out your constants as you both made your way to the car. Ultimately, it was more like Patrick was walking and you slanted onto him, trotting along.

"Mhm," Patrick hummed, he'd kept one hand on your waist but you hadn't really noticed it. There were many things you didn't notice in your inebriated state.

Patrick, luckily, hadn't drunk as much as you and was sober enough to drive you home. You laid your head comfortably on the window as you observed the blackened city and yellowed road soar past you. It was serene, you and Patrick. It was the first time in the past week you felt a smidge above the bare minimum. Your head was hazy and everything felt so miniature; boxed in.

The ride home was rather reserved, with no one speaking other than you drunkenly giving him directions to your dorm. Eventually, after he had to call Tashi, he stopped in front of the building.

"We're here, Sleeping Beauty," Patrick murmured quietly, slightly nudging you with his hand. When you responded with a groan, he sighed and got out of the car. You perked up a bit and lazily followed his figure until he opened the door. The lack of movement signaled to Patrick that he would be the one to get you out of this car.

Patrick heaved you out of your seat, to your disdain, and he held you close as he closed the passenger door behind you. Your face was squashed in the curve of his neck. He smelt like really lovely cologne and sweat.

Looking up at him, Patrick met your gaze with his own and smiled, "Hi." You smiled back, "Hey.." His hand stayed trained on your waist and you felt that warmth. The fervor you felt that night in the hotel room. It pooled deep inside of you, and it made the stupid smile on your face grow even wider.

"What are you smiling at?" Patrick grinned at your behavior and his hand that had been unlocking the door moved up to cup your cheek. Both of you stood there under the cloak of the night sky, staring foolishly at one another. He softly said your name, "What are you smiling at, pretty girl?"

The tone of his voice was something you'd never be able to interpret in your lifetime. Forgotten among memories and the intoxication, you thought about what led to the position you were in years later, and next to that night in the hotel room, this seemed to be another flick to the dominos collapsing.

Patrick didn't wait for your response, his lips were already on yours. He felt needy in this kiss, it was long and passionate. Your eyes were clenched shut, the euphoria you felt from being so out of it momentarily leaving your body to replace it with stone-cold regret. The kiss was split when you finally pushed one hand to his chest.

"Patrick?" You muttered, "What the fuck?" Patrick's air sobered at your words. He looked at you, the mere panic very visible on his face. Had he fucked up?

"What?" The brunette laughed humorously, "Did I, erm..." He was searching through his lexicon to say anything that could save whatever the hell just happened.

The shame began to quickly devour you, a sickish feeling overtaking your senses. Whatever just happened mortified you to no extent. You staggered back from Patrick, finally meeting his frenzied eyes.

Your eyes started to gloss over and you cried. Tears fell freely down your face as you felt the humiliation slap you in the face. All of it. The humiliation of Art not even liking you, Tashi's carelessness this week, and then this. The culmination of the efforts from the four of you, kissing your best friend's boyfriend. Or rather he kissed you, but what was the true distinction?

"What the fuck Patrick!?" You roughly wiped the tears that continued to fall, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Patrick said nothing, only stared, so similar to his best friend.

"Jesus... The both of you!" You barked, "The both of you two fucking astound me." Your words were sharp and cutting bore into Patrick, apparently, that's what got him.

"What," His voice trailed off as his demeanor only heightened in puzzlement, "What do you mean both?"

"You and your fuck-face friend, that's who!" Your words blended together, as unfortunately, you were still pretty shit-faced. "You and Art fucking around with my head..."

Patrick tensed, "Art's fucking with your head?"

"Yes!" You replied, throwing your hands out in anger, "He's still in love with your girlfriend, and decided to fuck me on the side!"

Patrick's eyebrows raised, he knew Art was trying to manipulate the situation by trying to break him and Tashi apart but he didn't know that you were weaved in here too.

"That's... fucked up." He attempted to comfort you, very awkwardly.

"Yes, it is fucked up Patrick, almost as fucked up as you kissing me." You shot back venomously, narrowing your eyes at him. Patrick went quiet for a beat. He looked at you, looked away, and back at you. He seemed to be deliberating something.

"There's nothing fucked up about it," He finally answered, "I wanted to."

An involuntary gasp slipped from your lips. Your face contorted. "What?"

"I want you."

It felt like a gallon of cold water splashed on you. You stumbled back even further from the boy, your expression no longer confused but mortified.

Thundering down the sidewalk, you callously ran to where you didn't know. You heard Patirck's calls after you but they didn't matter. It wasn't as if he ran after you. The haze from everything that had happened still lingered as you ran. The thoughts bombarded your mind aimlessly, wondering what Patrick meant or what he might say to Tashi.

Tashi...

You'd raced so far that you were there at her dorm, which was seated right next to the tennis courts. Vision hazy, you tumbled into the building. It felt dingy and humid and walking through the corridors you tripped about six times and fully fallen over 3; that didn't stop you though from your destination.

By the grace of god, you handled yourself well enough to place three ordered knocks on Tashi's door, then slump to the floor with a deep sigh. Honestly, you didn't expect her to open the door. You didn't know what time it was but it was late enough into the night (or the early hours of the morning), that the rest of the world was silent.

Everything went silent for a moment as you stared at that wooden door. You focused on a dent in the door itself, right near the handle. You were so immersed in the indentation that you didn't notice the door hinged open.

"Well, well, well... look who it is," Tashi stared down at you with a slight smile. There she was.

"Tashi!" Your mood was instantly lifted at her company and smiled right back. The nastiness, the dread, and the remorse were lifted instantly once you saw her. She let out a sigh once she saw your state— your outfit was skimpy, mascara and eyeliner were smeared all over your face, and you looked like you'd cried a river.

"Christ," She sighed out your name, "Can't you have a good night?"

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You and Tashi lay on her bed peacefully, and you exchanged no sentiments in those moments. She'd washed you up from your sordid state and now she was tracing designs in the curve of your hip. Tashi laid her chin on your head and you nestled on her collarbone. This was a frequent situation for either of you, as, during tournaments during your adolescent year, nights were spent braiding each other's hair, swapping secrets with smiles, and just being girls.

"So, are we going to talk about it?" Tashi hummed, staring out into her own cluttered room. Smiling like a fool you replied, "Talk about what?"

"Art, he told me about what happened." She continued, her hand moved from your hip to your hair. Tashi threaded her fingers through it gently and you let out a giggle.

"Pfft, Art.. that stupid, dumb blonde," Laughter filled the room, and you drew your head away from Tashi to meet her. "He's just stupid, that's all."

Tashi held back her own laughter at your intoxicated words, "I see.." You nodded in confirmation and laid back down cuddled back in. "Well, I just wanted you to know that this week I wasn't trying to avoid you," She resumed, "Art just told me about your emotional state, and knowing you, I know you like space."

You hoisted your head again and sneered, "You'd believe that twink?" Tashi giggled and rolled her eyes, "I don't think you can say that anymore," She spoke your name in a scold, "But, yes I did, he's pretty fucking convincing you know."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... Convincing my ASS," Your eyebrows drew together in irritation at the mention of the boy, "He's stupid, just like the other one.."

Dead air obscured the room again, the only sound being you and Tashi's breathing. The warmth you'd felt from the alcohol returned again, but it felt different. It didn't feel as murky or slowing, it felt good. Yet, the disgrace from earlier was still in the back of your mind. You knew the next day would hold so much bullshit for you and your friend depending on Patrick's efforts or if Art decided to tell Tashi whatever Patrick would recount to him. The involvement of the two boys had made everything so muddled.

"Tashi,"

"Hm?"

"Promise me you'll love me forever?" You asked quietly, finally breaking the tranquility. The voice you had dawned felt foreign to you, it was desperate, vulnerable. Tashi pulled herself away from you to meet your eyes. Her deep sharp eyes scrutinized you with an unreadable gaze.

"What do you mean?" She asked, trying to laugh it off with a dry chuckle.

"I said what I meant," You slurred in reply, a pout, "Will you love me forever?"

Tashi scoffed, "I'm not fucking Mother Theresa," She said your name with a mocking edge. "You're my best friend, I..." Tashi stopped to carefully phrase her words so you could understand in your blitzed condition. "I like you more than any other person on planet Earth."

Your pout formed into a frown, and you stayed silent. Tashi then exhaled wearily, knowing she'd hurt your feelings but didn't say anything. It was a staring contest that you wouldn't win. Tashi did like you a lot, more than she liked her family, friends, and her boyfriend. But she wasn't good at pretending—she couldn't pretend she loved more than one thing. She loved one thing, and one thing only; Tennis.

"Then I'll love you enough for the both of us." That response caught Tashi off guard and she blanked. "I'll love you seeds and all, Tashi Duncan." The announcement of your love for her wasn't on the list of things Tashi thought she would've heard tonight. A nervousness overtook her but you didn't notice, you just stared in determination.

"Seeds and all?" Tashi questioned, her demeanor shifted to something a bit fainter, similar to yours.

"Yes, Tashi, seeds and all," You said it as if it was the most common thing in the world and laid back down. A sudden wave of exhaustion had washed over you, it was so easy to fall asleep. Despite this, Tashi stayed awake and watched you. It wasn't uncommon for you to say sappy shit and for Tashi to combat it with banter, but this felt more amorous; for the first time in the girl's life, she felt confused.

Tashi glanced back down at your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful and pretty. An involuntary grin graced her features as she lay next to you. Her face was inches away from your own, bringing her hand to brush away some stray pieces of your hair to simply stare at you.

"I love you too," The girl muttered your name, kissing the apple of your cheek, turning around to her side of the bed, and falling into a slumber soon after. Tashi had assumed you were sleeping and wouldn't remember it even if you weren't. But, unfortunately for her, you had heard.

Tashi Duncan loved you.

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𝘾𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙄, 𝙊𝙃𝙄𝙊, 2011

𝘊𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪 𝘖𝘱𝘦𝘯

The hotel bar's music softly played through the speakers, setting a particular homely affection amid the room. A few people were there, tennis players and normal patrons alike, drinking or crying over their loss today. Cincinnati, Ohio was one of the last stops any of these players had of making it to the US Open but unfortunately, they didn't make the cut.

You on the other hand? The 15-step plan was in motion but this time you'd be first. Going pro three years ago was one of the best decisions you'd made, in your life. The dream was cradled in the palm of your hand. Young, beautiful, determined, the brands just ate you up.

Being sponsored by Nike, doing commercials for popular products, and selling out was pretty amicable. The celebrity that came with it was a sweet taste that you sunk your teeth in. People shouted your name on the street and begged for your signature, they wanted you. The only downside was that now and again you'd have to see him.

God, You thought, when was the last time I heard this song... Instead of nursing your drink, you glanced around the room, observing the players. You recognized some from previous competitions and some you'd played today. Suddenly, noticing how everyone had someone to talk to, it was exposing to be the lone person at the bar. At 23 and no man, for now, was a smidge uncomfortable.

So why were you holding her hand?

Is that the way we stand?

Were you lying all the time?

Was it just a game to you...

While scanning the room, you saw her, sitting there with her computer propped up and sporting a shorter hairstyle. A jolt surged through you, you'd seen enough of her today, and you swiveled your head back forward. Another bad move, there he was. The blonde shaggy curls bedazzled you when he strolled in. Art Donaldson walked through the room and the world stopped turning.

Art walked into the bar in search of something. He just didn't know what. For the past few weeks since the Atlanta Open, he'd been on edge; for what he didn't really know. The looming task of the US Open had been teasing him for years, but he was young. He had time to play and win it, this year might just be his year. Though that's what he told himself. The US Open was what he was worried about. Yes, nothing more, nothing less, and absolutely not about certain brunettes.

Art made eye contact with you for a split second. A look flashed across both of your faces, both with varying feelings. Art's face showed an emotion of enchantment, like seeing a rare jewel. You looked like you swallowed sour milk. You shifted your gaze away from him and back to your drink. The alcohol stung your nose.

But I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger...

Do you have to let it linger?

A shiver strained through you, wondering if the universe was truly trying to get you to buy 30 mg of fentanyl and a bottle of vodka. Art you were used to, both of you were established and young tennis players, it was foretold the two of you would cross paths after that day. Every time it did happen there were formalities exchanged between you two, and then you'd take 4 shots of the choice of alcohol that night and cry.

Art peeked back at you once more before back on his path to Tashi. She was perfect, he had known that fact since the day he met her. Shoved on the pedestal, his fiance typed stormily at her computer, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

A smile grazed his face, "Hey," He sat down across from her. Tashi barely acknowledged him with a nod. Art sighed and tapped on the rim of her computer, "Hey Tashi..."

Tashi exhaled and lips thinned, "Hi, what's up?" She curtly replied, "I'm working right now on our deal with Nike," Art's confidence slightly buckled under her glare and apparent annoyance with him.

"Oh, well, nothing..." He trailed off with his smile being replaced with a slight pout, unfortunately for Art, this irritated the coach more. "Well, then get out of my face. You have a game tomorrow," She articulated concisely instructed him with a tone a mother would use, "A game you need to win."

Art straightened up a bit, winning was important, he knew that but he missed Tashi. His paranoia surely wasn't helping her curtness as of recently, but he was still relegating it to US Open nerves. He just needed to win and it'd be fine. "Okay," He agreed, "I'll see you upstairs?" The blonde was met with a quick nod, the sound of typing only emitted.

"I love you."

"I know."

Art left the table with a sullen expression on his features, but you didn't know that. Now you were focused on what type of wood the table was, to avoid thinking about when was the last time the three of you were in the same room. Maybe it's maple.... Your thoughts were soon cut off by a buzz from your phone. The iPhone 4 buzzed madly in your pocket and you pulled it out.

It was some random number you didn't have on your phone.

415-xxx-xxxx

𝘏𝘪, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 ��𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬.

𝘔𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 3𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘖𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺.

A miniature smile begged to come onto your features, even texting you could hear the way he'd talk with his comforting, careful diction. But then the meaning of the message settled deep inside you. He wanted to meet you up? Why? Confusion replaced the thick nostalgia as the cogs in your head started to work. It confused you, but you were intrigued. Plus, what was the worst that could happen?

212-xxx-xxxx

𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸¸¸♬·

Idily standing in the dingy ice room, you'd start contemplating your life choices. Specifically, the ones that led you to this moment. Why did you approve of this? Why did you go to that fucking bar? You're not even supposed to drink the day before a game. Oh, that's right, you remembered, Patrick Zweig.

♬☆♬☆♬☆

Earlier that day...

The cooling feeling of the concrete against your back felt like pertinent compensation after a day of sprinting around in the sun. You'd finally made it to the semi-finals after dominating through the bracket, some you'd played against during earlier tournaments, others were just painless to beat and move on to the following one. Nonetheless, the girl you'd just played had given you a run for your money. Not because she was good, but because you were distracted.

Tashi Duncan, coach of the FAMOUS Art Donaldson, observed your match. You'd noticed her when perusing the stands after the first game when you were looking for your friend who had come to cheer you on. Seeing her was the biggest mistake of your game, serve after serve it'd either be out or barely touched the net. It was utterly embarrassing and you'd lost the second game by 15 love. When it was the break you'd skimmed only to find her gone.

It pissed you off. Who the fuck does she think she is? You clenched your water bottle angrily, your knuckles shy of a shade lighter than normal skin tone. The spite of Tashi leaving your game (or so you thought) had lit that flame that you doused years ago. The flame of insecurity produced by Tashi Duncan.

You were relentless against the girl, hitting the ball with your full strength each and every time. An intense volley had occurred in the middle of the game, so intense that your opponent fell face forward in an attempt to catch the shot (she did not). The stadium was silent other than the loud sounds of your grunts and anger. It was hotter than the concrete you played on but just as hard. It pissed you off so much that when you won, instead of your normal self-indulgent bow, you smashed your racquet to the floor and a roar. The crowd scarfed it down, hailing you as a passionate and beautiful player, tenacious against competition.

In all honesty, you just wanted to go home and cry, but you were hustled off the court to where you are now. Stranded in the hallway and lying in your muddled emotions. It was now the men's bracket, but you didn't plan on watching anyone. Particularly Donaldson. Yet, trying to make it out of the vacant hallway, a familiar face entered your vision.

"There's the golden girl!" No words in a dictionary could express the face you made at that moment.

"Oh my..." You muttered under your breath, turning around to see Patrick Zwieg, in all of his sleazy glory. "What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here Patrick?"

Patrick laughed with faux hurt, "Aw, aren't you just a ball of sunshine!" He tried to get closer to you but you edged back. He gauged your expression and sighed, "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me..."

You scoffed in disgust, "Christ Patrick, seeing you is like seeing a dog with cancer, it should be put down already." The brunette's lips pulled into a smirk, he crossed his arms and gave an irksome look.

"Well, I'm not a dog," He corrected, "I'm a cat and we got 9 lives." An exasperated sigh left your lips, your eyes meeting his with a tiredness. After the mind-fuck of seeing Tashi, you had no bandwidth for Patrick's bitchiness.

"I don't fucking care, Patrick," You hissed, finally starting back on your walk. Patrick started to slightly slip from his confidence, he hadn't expected this. He usually was able to keep you around for a good banter but you'd genuinely just stopped it this time. To keep you from going he snatched your forearm, keeping you from going any further.

Your glare deepened, "Let me go!" He didn't budge and kept you in place, although you started struggling to try and escape his strong grasp.

Patrick spoke your name calmly, "I just want to talk..." He sounded like he was talking to a feral cat. Grunting and now starting to whine, you struggled in an attempt to get away from him and this conversation. "About what? How you fucked over my best-" You stopped yourself, the word 'friend' died on the tip of your tongue. You two weren't friends, you hadn't been for years. Patrick caught this moment of vulnerability and used this.

"Friend? Please, she left you once you got better," He goaded with a sinister grin, "She couldn't stand that you could play and she couldn't."

The struggle became relentless as you started to shout for 'help' but it was useless. You were isolated. The best you'd gotten was dragging Patrick an inch or two across the floor, no escape was foreseen. A thin line formed on your lips as you glared.

"Shut up Patrick, don't fucking project your bullshit with Art on me,' You spat venomously, "He won, you're fucking losing, so what?"

Patrick chuckled drily, "Won what? The match? In case you forgot I won that-"

"NO!" You cut him off with a shout, "God no Patrick, he won at life. He's getting married to the girl you, and only you Patrick, lost because you're a dipshit." Face contorted into one of pure hatred for the man in front of you, and his hold finally slackened for you to draw your arm back.

Patrick rolled his eyes, "Newsflash, I slept with the girl I lost like.." He stopped speaking to count on his fingers, "Three weeks ago!" A triumphant and smug smirk graced his features.

"Great, so you can add home-wrecker to your tennis accolades?" You raised a brow and scoffed again, "You astonish me Zweig, you really do."

Patrick's grin didn't budge, "I aim to please," He did feel quite pleased with himself, and was even more pleased because he confidently believed you were jealous. Jealous that Tashi Duncan slept with him again and you didn't. He was sorely mistaken.

A heavy breath was taken in and you became focused. You knew exactly what you wanted to say to him, "Patrick, you may've fucking one that on match, let's say a battle." You began harshly, "But you didn't win the war, Art did."

Coming closer to Patrick to look him square in the eye, "Art is going to marry Tashi, he won. He will continue to win and be remembered." Patrick clenched his fists to try and calm himself, your words cutting in like serrated blades, "Who will you be Patrick?"

The question echoed throughout Patrick's mind, but you didn't waste time on his reply. Quickly, you stormed away after and resolved that the finest thing to do was to drink this moment away.

♬☆♬☆

A disgusted exclamation softly left your lips as you remembered that instant from today. Patrick always knew how to rile you up, to push your buttons until they'd break. At this point, you thought he enjoyed pissing you off. However, your internal monologuing was cut off by approaching footsteps. Darting up from the checkered carpeted floor, the blonde approached.

Art felt his palms begin to sweat when he saw your languid figure up against the vending machine. You looked so effortlessly beautiful to him, even when looking like you wanted to kill him. He sauntered into the small corridor and shut the door behind him.

Then, he pivoted around to face you. A hush swallowed both of you. It had been the first time you two were alone in around 3 years, at least. Art looked nervous meanwhile you looked disinterested.

"So?" You asked expectantly, "What did you need to talk about?" Art uncoiled and bit his lip. What did he want to talk about again..?

"Oh uhm.." He stuttered, "Hi, so..." Art desperately combed his mind for an answer, "I just saw you and I..." He coughed awkwardly and shifted his weight, "I just wanted to know how you were."

You took a deep breath and then let out a sigh, "Great, so you wanted to waste my time?" Art visibly flinched at your response and his lips twitched in apprehension.

"No, I just missed you," He asserted quickly, trying to meet your tone. Art's deep blue eyes met your own and something tugged at your heartstrings. "We both missed you."

"We?" A wiry laugh echoed in the room, "I don't think Tashi misses me, Arthur, but a cute way of guilt-tripping me." You cooed mockingly with a smirk. A sour expression fell across Art's countenance at the use of his full government name.

Sighing, he leaned against the wall and; after a beat spoke, "We watched your name today," Art stared at you intensely, "You were good, but what fucked you up during the second game?"

You clenched your fists, annoyed that he had been there too. "I don't know, it's called none-ya."

"What's none-ya?" He asked, confused by your retort.

"None of ya fucking business, Donaldson," You shot, "We aren't friends, we don't have tea parties and talk about fucking tennis."

"Well," Art started calmly, holding himself together, "Why don't we talk about anything but tennis?" You smiled fakly at his offer and stepped toward him, the height difference not really being too big, close enough to meet eye to eye.

"Then why the hell are we talking, Art, if we're not talking tennis?"

Art was silenced by your reply and stared down at the floor. He understood why you were acting the way you were, you were hurt. Aching. He would be too if he were in your shoes. The boy knew it wasn't him that should be talking to you. If anything would be solved between you and him, it'd first have to be solved between you and his fiance.

So, he looked back up at you, "I don't know why are we still talking?" The way Art said your name triggered some deep-buried emotions you had killed many years ago along with your insecurities. It was the seductive, whiny nature of Art Donaldson that kept you awake during the hard, lonely nights and right now it was your reality.

The space between you two was barely existent, lips almost touching... Your phone buzzed. The moment was ruined instantly and you quickly plucked out your phone. It was your coach, texting you verbatim to 'GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, NOW!' with five angry emojis.

Art's eyes searched your movements as you read the message. He was so intent on solving or fixing things with you tonight that he hadn't acknowledged that other outside forces could interfere. When he saw you play today and then back at the bar? It fell into place for him, he just had to have you again. He had to. He deserved it right?

You shoved Art aside and opened the door, focused on now going to sleep and preparing for your game tomorrow. Simply put, you didn't have time for stupid boys like Art Donaldson who wanted to play tennis with two balls. It was ineffective.

But, just as you were down the hallway he shouted, "Tashi misses you!" You ignored him, "She told me to tell you."

"Tell her," Turning around so he could directly hear you, "Tell her that she can go fuck herself, and," You had stopped speaking, storming off to right in front of the man, "Go fuck yourself too." It was easy to snatch the collar of his old grey hoodie and capture him in a kiss.

The clash of lips was a brutish one, Art being caught off guard and you kissing forcefully as if he was the last thing on earth. His hands traveled to your jaw and let you take control of the kiss.

It was a longer one, almost juvenile, letting yourself clash teeth or slightly push up against him. You finally pulled away, his bottom lip sliding through your teeth slowly, keeping eye contact while it bounced back in place.

The both of you were flushed a deep crimson, now both frustrated and sexually frustrated you let out an exclamation of anger and strode furiously down the hall, into the stairway.

There left was Art, his attempts hopeless and now he was alone. His hand shakily rose to his lips where you had just been. Fingers gently grazing his lip before letting out a shaky sigh. It'd been forever since he'd been caught so off-guard, it shook him inside. You always did, pushing his own buttons instead of yours. Art was always susceptible to your touch and words.

Yet, frowned when he thought of the way you had spoken to him tonight. You had become so jaded, so much more.. mean. It reminded him of how Tashi used to talk back at Stanford. Before the injury. How confident she was, somehow more than now, and how she had the world at the tips of her fingers. Art silently wished he'd handled that day differently than he did. But, deep down, he knew he didn't. Art got what he wanted at the end of the day, wasn't that beautiful?

ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2

Hi! I really hope you guys liked this chapter, I really wanted to explore the character dynamics more and just flesh out the relationships. It'll get spicy, trusttt!

Please like or comment!! I would love to hear what y'all think or want for the plot, you guys were literally so, so nice in the last part!

Thank you for reading <3

🇹​​🇦​​🇬​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​:

@jackierose902109

@bloodyrevengedbullets

@ssababe

@skylerwhitwyo

[yoursweetwife]

warning: fluff, mention of breasts, female reader, Ratio is very cute and annoying. Bad english

Synopsis: Your lover won't let you get up

You love Ratio. He has many flaws that made you afraid of him at first, but he has changed a lot since he started dating you.

Veritas still acts arrogant and pompous with other people, wears a plaster mask, but this does not apply to you at all! Only if you didn't quarrel.

But there's something you love and hate at the same time.

"Veritas, get up..Darling"

You grumbled, trying to push off the giant body that was literally pinning you to the bed. You looked at the man lying on your chest between your legs. His arms were tightly wrapped around your torso, and his eyebrows were furrowed. Your hands ran through his hair and you were rewarded with a satisfied hum.

"I know you're not sleeping."

Ratio's eyes opened slightly, now he was not only sleepy, but also slightly irritated.

“And I know that you are in no hurry today.”

After these words, he buried his nose in your chest again. Even now he found the time to make sarcastic comments.

“But that’s no reason not to let me out of your arms for several hours! h-hey, don’t ignore me...”

Your leg lightly touched his back, and Veritas only responded by squeezing your waist tighter.

You sighed in defeat and kissed the top of his head. Your fingers began to caress the soft purple hair. If other people saw how Dr. Ratio himself behaves like an unloved child, they would probably consider themselves crazy. Your colleagues didn't even know you two were dating. You and Ratio were good at pretending to be just friends.

You smiled softly and leaned your head back onto the pillow.

"You're lucky I love you, silly."

There was no reaction to these words. Usually Ratio would start pinching or tickling you, especially when you called him silly. He can, but you can’t?

You giggled and closed your eyes. It's a pity Veritas doesn't know that tomorrow you'll be teasing him by showing him all the pictures you took while he was sleeping.

[choccorin]

lovers quarrel

tags. hurt / comfort, sakura haruka x gn!reader

you've been ignoring sakura because of the argument you both had two days ago. he missed out on your date, again. this is the third time this happened in your relationship of 5 months, sure, it wasn't a big deal but for you it is.

the two of you are busy students, he's busy at furin and you're busy with your school works. you can rarely hangout these days due to it being exam season, both of your schedules were packed.

you were so excited that day, you waited at the cafe you both planned to meet at but after two hours, he still didn't show up. you tried calling him, no answer, you tried contacting his friends, also no response. you went home after waiting for three hours, you felt embarrassed because the staff kept checking up on you, so you just left.

you understand that he has things to take care of back at furin but can't he make some time for you, even just a day? you're both still new to relationships, in fact, this is your and his first relationship. you start doubting yourself if getting into one was a good idea, you love him — you're sure of that. and he loves you too, but can the both of you maintain a relationship with little to no experience?

these questions cloud your mind while you're walking back to your apartment, you halt when you see him outside, standing and looking down, he's drenched in the rain. what is he doing here, you ask yourself. don't tell me he's walked here, in this weather?!

“sakura .. ” you call out to him

he lifts his head and looks at you, his eyes are glimmering with hope. he looks tired, the dark circles forming under his eyes say so. are you the reason for them?

you hesitantly walk towards him, “why did you walk here while it's raining? idiot.” you mumble that last word, looking away from his gaze.

“ah, s-sorry.. i was in a hurry to talk to you.. ” his voice is trembling — he sounds like he's about to burst into tears.

you sigh, “ get in first. ”, you unlock your door, letting him in.

“i'll bring a towel, wait here. ”

“(y/n), can we please talk? .. please.” he's pleading you, you've never heard him like this before.

you stop walking, only glancing at him from behind since you're still upset with him.

“fine, talk.” your voice sounds cold and sakura doesn't like that.

“listen. i .. ”, he breathes in, “i'm sorry. i didn't mean to bail on you, it was just that a lot of things happened like a gang was threatening to hurt the town an-”

“just forget it, what's done is done.”

“but i-”

“there's no point in apologizing, sakura!” you wince, that came out harsher than you expected.

the silence in the room felt like a heavy weight crushing you, almost suffocating. both of you were just standing there — waiting for the other person to speak up, but there was nothing. only the sound of the rain .. and sniffles.

he's crying.

you turn around to face him, he's looking down but you can tell he's crying his heart out. his shoulders and hands were trembling, you felt guilty yelling at him.

“haruka, i'm sorry! i was just upset and-” you scramble your words, trying to explain your side to make him stop crying but he cuts you off.

“no. you're right, there's point in apologizing. it's my fault for missing another date and i .. i know i mess up a lot but just please, please don't leave me.” he holds your hands, tears streaming down his face, “i can't go on without you, you've made me the happiest guy in the world in just a few months and-”

you pull him into you, hugging him as tightly and gently as you can, “i'm not leaving you, you idiot. why would you think that.. ”, your voice is shaking, you were crying now too.

he hugs you back, “please don't let me go .. ” sakura mumbles against your neck, hugging you tighter — afraid that you'll let him go.

you kiss his forehead, holding him tighter against you — not caring about his drenched clothes, “i won't hakura, i promise. ”.

both of you stay like this for a couple of minutes, melting in each others hold. but your mind snaps out of it when you feel your clothes getting wet, you wipe your tears away. telling him that he needs to change or else he'll catch a cold, you full him into your bathroom, ignoring his protests, and leave him there to get new clothes, a t-shirt and short that the left at your place just in case.

you tell him that once he gets changed, both of you will talk properly and fix this, even if you two have little to no experience in relationships.

n. this is so bad but i needed to get something off my mind so here's this.

t. @kyoghurts, hi again, i hope u don't mind me posting another sakura fic >_<

[luvismenu]

⋆˚࿔ fuckboy!jungkook pt.8 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ written ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ! nsfw !

mlist — 08/10

♡ — permanent taglist: @wnteraezz @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @blaricee @blluee28 @jkvias @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld @jmscaffeine

a/n: this was supposed to be the end but i love them too much hehe haha 🙈

why are you mad?

you keep asking yourself this, over and over. you're not actually dating jungkook. you don't get to be mad at him for kissing or hooking up with other women. it’s none of your business.

but god, it bothers you way too much.

you shouldn't have been so dramatic about it. you're usually pretty good at communicating with people, telling them what’s on your mind, what’s bothering you. but with him? you couldn’t say a word.

why?

maybe it’s because you're losing your damn mind over how amazing the sex with him has been.

or maybe you're afraid.

afraid of what, though?

rejection?

but rejection from what exactly?

do you... like jungkook?

no, that can't be it.

or maybe it is?

you’re only hooking up, right?

sure, you and him hang out all the time. sure, you’d rather spend time with him than be alone. and sure, you sometimes wish he would confess his feelings for you.

fuck.

you like jungkook.

“earth to ___!!”

“huh?” you blink, snapping out of your thoughts and looking up at hoseok.

right... you’re supposed to be having lunch with him, and yet here you are, zoning out while thinking about jungkook.

“lovers’ quarrel?” hoseok raises a brow

oh, right.

he thinks you're dating jungkook. not that you blame him—everyone thinks that.

“can i ask you something?” you say, trying to shift the conversation away from your spiraling thoughts.

“sure. but just know that i am not good at relationship advice,” hoseok raises his hands in defense

“i just need an opinion,” you clarify.

“alright then, shoot,” he leans forward, crossing his arms as he listens.

“am i being dramatic for getting mad at someone who was supposed to spend time with me but didn’t, and maybe kissed someone else or even hooked up with them?” you rush out, your words spilling out faster than you mean to.

“oh—woah,” hoseok coughs, clearly caught off guard. “give me a sec, i need to process that.”

you bite your lip, looking down at your hands, fidgeting nervously. what are you even doing? why are you opening up to hoseok, of all people? for fuck's sake, you wanted to hook up with this guy once.

“are you sure he kissed someone?” hoseok asks after a moment.

“i—well, no,” you admit, “but that's what everyone’s saying, and... well, it must be true, right!?” you sigh, feeling embarrassed by your outburst. you bury your face in your hands, hating how unsure you sound.

“___, hey, look at me,” hoseok’s voice is gentle, and you slowly lift your head to meet his gaze. “why don't you just ask him if it's true? it’s between you and him, right? what does it matter what other people say? do you think he’d do that to you?”

you pause for a moment, letting his words sink in. “no...,” you sigh again.

hoseok reaches over, holding your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “then take a breather and talk to him.”

“i know him, and cheating isn't something he would do,” hoseok clarifies

what he doesn’t know is that you and jungkook aren’t actually dating, and even if jungkook did kiss yuri, it wouldn't technically be considered cheating.

and that’s what makes this whole situation even more complicated.

you offer him a small, grateful smile. “thanks, hoseok.”

“don't thank me,” he grins, “like i said, i’m not good at this— relationship stuff. i’m just your regular fuckboy type.”

you chuckle softly at his joke. “so what? fuckboy or not, you're still human.”

and suddenly, it hits you.

you’ve been treating jungkook as a fuckboy more than a normal guy, keeping your walls up while he’s done nothing but be a sweetheart to you.

and yet, you were scared.

scared that if you let yourself like him, he would end up breaking your heart.

but then again you realise that jungkook has never been in a relationship before.

he’s never experienced something like this, and truthfully, you’ve only been in one serious relationship yourself.

you remember how you were in the beginning—scared to commit, afraid that you wouldn’t be good enough.

maybe he feels the same way?

you've always made it a point to remind him that he's just a fuckboy, and you’ve been brutally honest about what you think of guys like him.

but in doing so, you’ve never really considered his side, what he might actually be feeling beneath all the teasing and labels you’ve thrown at him.

you’ve both made mistakes, had your fair share of stupid moments—maybe you more than him. neither of you are perfect, but maybe that’s okay. all you need to do now is be honest with him. let your feelings out and see where it takes you.

you can figure this out together, right?

“get your hands off of her,”

fuck. you zoned out again.

you look up to see the man you've been avoiding; jeon jungkook, glaring at hoseok, who pulls his hand back from yours.

“chill out, i was just talking to her, as a friend,” hoseok says, giving you a small smile. “like you and me,” hoseok glares him back.

jungkook ignores him and turns his attention to you, his eyes softening immediately. “___, please, can we talk? i know i messed up, but what you heard or saw isn’t what you think. please, let me explain,” he pleads, his eyes full of sincerity and desperation.

god, how could you even say no to him?

“okay, let’s walk,” you agree.

once you're out the building, you both find a place where it's quiet and less crowded.

“___, i am sorry i didn't come to your place. i just needed to think about— it doesn't matter what. i just needed some time alone and i should've told you. i am really sorry,” he says, sighing deeply.

“jungkook, you—”

“no, no. i am not done apologizing yet. please, let me finish,” he pleads, and you nod in response.

“i was going to stay home, but then yuri called me. she asked me if i changed my mind. honestly, i didn’t want to go, but i needed a distraction. parties and hookups are usually how i distract myself. and no, i wasn’t going there for a hookup. i just needed some air, and” he sighs ”i regret going there,”

“what do you mean?” you ask, trying to understand.

“i got really drunk. i’m not trying to excuse my actions, but yuri and her friends kept pushing drinks on me. i was overwhelmed at that time and i let them give me more drinks. yuri helped me later when i was completely wasted. we ended up in her room. i did not hook up with her. she was just helping me rest. i fell asleep on her bed and didn’t even know about the photo until you mentioned it. when i woke up, i was going to leave, but then she kissed me,” he says, his face showing clear discomfort.

“oh”

“i pushed her away and told her to stay away from me. then, i came back home,” he continues. “i wish i hadn’t gone. it was a mistake. i should've come to you instead. i was thinking about us and—”

“us?” you interrupt him

“i-i mean, our fake relationship,” he stammers, looking into your eyes. “you must be tired of me. you’ve been dealing with my stupid lie, and you probably like someone else. i just wanted to keep you safe, but i realized this isn’t how it should be.”

he seems hurt, and you realize he’s upset because he thinks the reason you said he could go and have fun is because you like someone else.

oh god, that’s not what you meant at all.

“jungkook,” you say softly, reaching for his hands and holding them. he looks at your hands and then up at you. “i don’t like anyone else,”

“y-you don’t?” he blinks in surprise.

you shake your head. “i am sorry, jungkook.”

“w-what? no, you have nothing to—” he starts, but you place your hand gently over his mouth.

“let me talk now, okay?” you say, and he nods as you slowly remove your hand.

“i am sorry for the way i’ve been treating you,” you begin, looking down. “i thought— i believed i couldn’t let myself get too attached to a fuckboy, because i’d end up getting hurt. i thought it would just be easier to keep my distance.”

his eyes soften as he listens, clearly understanding where you’re coming from.

“but i got attached to you,” you admit, letting out a light chuckle. “i enjoyed everything we did together. spending time with you became something I looked forward to.”

you meet his eyes, seeing the surprise in them.

“yes, it’s me, the ___, admitting that i got attached to you,” you say, trying to ease both of your minds.

“holy fuck you—” he starts, but you cover his mouth again.

“not done yet,” you say, and he nods once more.

"i'm sorry for getting mad at you like that. i should've been more calm, and we should've just talked about it. but my mind was all over the place, and when i saw the photo, i just assumed the worst like a dumbass," you frown, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“can i say something?” he asks, and you nod.

“well first of all you're not a dumbass and second of all, i met up with yuri a while ago and told her to delete that stupid photo. and you know what else i did?” he pauses

“what else?” you ask, intrigued.

“i told her to fuck off,” he says with a proud grin, and you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“great job, buddy,” you smile, genuinely amused by his antics

“learned from the best,” he returns the smile, looking pleased with himself. “you can continue now.”

“right— um, i’m sorry. please forgive me?” you plead, hoping to finally clear the air.

“only if you forgive me first,” he says, a small challenge in his voice

“but it wasn’t your fa—”

“please,” he cuts you off,

“fine, i forgive you, jungkook,” you say,

“i forgive you too, ___.”

there’s a brief silence before he speaks up again. “so... you don’t wanna date anyone?” jungkook raises a brow, looking at you curiously.

“no, why would i?” you reply

“oh...” he lowers his head, looking disappointed for a second.

“i already have a boyfriend, why would i wanna date anyone else,” you cup his face with both hands, smiling up at him, watching as his face lights up in surprise.

“is this a dream?” he asks, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“hmm... i don’t think so. am i following your dream script though?” you ask, grinning playfully.

“hell yeah you are. i can’t believe it,” he exclaims, his hands moving to cup your face too. you giggle and lean into his touch, warmth spreading through your chest.

“can i kiss you?” he asks softly, his gaze flicking down to your lips. yours do the same, and you let out a soft “yes.”

the kiss is slow, gentle, different from all the other ones. your lips move together in perfect sync, as if they were meant for this.

you love it.

oh.

love?

sounds good.

a/n: i told y'all to TRUST 😤

[devildomditzy]

“I can’t believe ya”

“I said I was sorry!”, you plead, running after your boyfriend as he angrily stomps away from you, not even feigning a glimpse at you.

“I don’t wanna hear your excuses!”, Mammon exclaims, hurt written clear across his face. “Outta all people, I trusted ya! And look where that got me!”

“Mammon, please listen!”

“No! How could ya!”

“How could ya spill your drink all over the floor of my Demonio!”

You try just so, so very hard to hide your giggles, but how could you? Out of everything you’ve both been through, this is what he decides to get upset about?

“Mammon, it’s not that bad, really”, you try to reason, but the look on his face is getting severely more annoyed by the second, him recognizing your weak attempts at stifling your laughter.

“Not that bad? Not that bad?! Those are luxury carpets! I paid good money to have those installed!”

“And I paid good money for that milkshake…I’m disappointed I dropped it too…” and…

you can’t help it, you make a small honk, just teenie tiny squeak.

“You’re not sorry at all!”, he throws his hands up above his head. “You think this is funny, huh? Sure, it’s real funny, MC. You destroyed your first man’s pristine ride, hilarious!”

And oh Diavolo, he’s really, actually mad isn’t he?

And oh Diavolo, you can’t stop cackling can you?

“I-it’s just a stain Mammon! I’ll clean it! Gosh, you’re so worked up!”

“Clean it?! Or, you’re gonna do more than clean it! You’re gonna make sure my car is spotless, you little heathen!”

“Hey! No fair, I stained your carpet, not ruined your paint job!”

“And if it wasn’t for your butter fingers, my baby would still look just as good as the day I got her!”, he points his finger at you accusingly, crossing his arms after and huffing.

You both garner weird stares from the other residents of the House of Lamentation as you enter still arguing, with Mammon choosing to park outside the front door instead of his garage/loft hybrid. You pay no mind and continue your bickering as you both begin to walk towards his room.

"Ya gonna pay me back double- no, triple! Triple the cost of the cleanin' fee!"

"What! No way! I can't believe you would even suggest...", your voice fades away from the other's earshots the further into the house you get.

They exchange puzzling glances between themselves.

"What do you think that was about? A lover's quarrel?", Asmo asks, an indescribable sparkle in his eyes.

"Don't know, don't care. But, its best to leave them to it", Satan replies with a small shake of his head and a sigh, mumbling under his breath, "Two halves of a whole idiot."

[sitkainsnow]

Desperately need a fic from a police officer’s pov and they watch SuperBat interactions bc like all the cops either hate or love Bats, but are still kinda terrified of him, but ofc Supes is all sunshine and smiles and “He’s my best friend y’all!” And they KNOW bats probably totally has kryptonite and an attitude worse than the devil.

So they end up in a situation where they’re working together and Batman in taking with the police and Superman’s standing behind him waving and smiling at everyone while Batman is giving single-word or just huffs for answers. And then Superman freezes and cocks his head and to everyone’s surprise grabs Batman by the shoulder and whispers something in his ear and then what’s more surprising is Batman doesn’t even mind as he wraps his own arm around Supes and then they’re gone in a blur of blue and Black. All the cops are just left standing there like 🧍‍♂️shocked bc Bats didn’t mind Supes touching him.

Or another instance where it’s after this big battle in Gotham and it’s with whatever villain but Superman is there too and the villain had kryptonite. Anyways so after the battle Bats is talking to the police and handing over the villain and Superman comes over after talking to the civilians, picks Bats up by the scruff mid sentence politely nods to the officers he was talking too, and moves him a couple feet away and just starts yelling at Bats abt how stupid it is for him to run around jumping in the way of heavy blows EVEN if they have kryptonite and Bats just scoffs and turns his head away and all the police on the area watch as Superman and Batman argue about how stupid it is to risk your life to save the other (they both did it) completely oblivious to their audience and the police whose POV it’s in just thinks “god they sound like a married couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy if the two of the worlds greatest hero’s were actually a couple lmao. But that’s crazy they’re just really good friends”

Gordon watched all this trying not to blow his fuse bc yes, Batman does need to be yelled at, and yes, he does need to prioritize his safety more, but NO, you don’t need to be having your lovers quarrel in front of the whole damn GCPD.

Or in another instance Batman racks up a bunch of charges on him for whatever reason and the GCPD by luck manages to arrest him and so here comes Superman trying to bail his partner(in more ways than one) out of prison and the police are like “we’re really sorry Mr. Superman sir but we can’t legally do that” and Supes goes “what the hell did he even do” and so the officer goes “Property Damage, unlawful violence, arson, punched a cop in the face and broke his nose, caught carrying weed which is illegal in the state of New Jersey, multiple -and I mean multiple- unpaid speeding tickets. Oh, and the DMV wanted us to talk to him about his unregistered Batmobile and Batbike.”and Supes is about to cry as he quietly asks “Okay, so how much is bail” And the officer looks away and mumbled “sixteen grand” and Supes gasps and cries out “I don’t get paid enough for sixteen grand!!”

However thirty minutes later Supes is back at the GCPD station shakily counting out bills bc he can’t use a check or card (obvi) sweating heavily and looking extremely pained. The cops don’t even ask where he got all those bills so quickly and just watch him and another 30minutes later Bats is out and Supes is shaking him by his shoulder shouting “so who’s gonna lag me back!! Who’s gonna reimburse me for for 16k?? Whose gonna apologize for the heart palpitations you gave me?? Whose gonna apologize for all the gray hairs this is going to give me?? You’re giving me gray hairs all the time B!! I can’t do this!!” And Batman just sighs and pats Superman on the back as they walk out of the station and Superman is mumbling about bank credit and loans and how bad he looks with wrinkle lines and gray hair sounding like he’s about to cry.

Meanwhile the police try not to loose their minds throughout this whole interaction and Gordon’s just staring at the door blankly smoking a cigar and the police whose POV it’s in looks at the cigar a little bit closer and goes “That smells like weed” and Gordon looks at her and just says “I feel for Superman a bit more than I want to”

[vilhelios]

— WAIT FOR ME / I'M STILL SOMEWHERE ;

( you're getting older without me and i'm getting scared ) ; in which rafayel still hopes that there's a life where this works — where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.

cw: not beta read; spoilers for abysswalker rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth, "fragrant dreams" card, "siren's song" anecdote, & main story ch. 7; angst ; some fluff ; mentions of blood, injury & death ; theories + headcanons about mc & rafayel's past lives ; kinda pretentious rafayel lore analysis ( can't help it, i just love him a lot! )

"RAFAYEL, do you think we're lovers in every universe?"

in the stillness of the night, as he mindlessly draws designs on your skin with his thumb, rafayel lies through his teeth: "yeah. i'm sure we are."

it's all he can manage. how do you tell your lover—your dear, sweet muse, whose presence makes the sea of your heart ebb and swell—that you've wondered the same thing lifetimes ago, and know the answer with bittersweet certainty? you continue talking about an article you read, in the morning—something about "consciousness energy fluctuations" and "that feeling of deja vu" and "soulmates."

and rafayel wonders, humming along to your rambling, if that's what you two are: soulmates.

"i wonder what we're like." you sigh, burrowing your head into the warmth of his chest. surely you can hear the rapid thrumming of his heart—he can't help it, the organ so helplessly weak in your presence. "you're the most creative man i know; got any ideas?"

"i think," rafayel starts, runs his fingers through your hair, "there's a life where i'm a merman, you're the human i've fallen deeply in love with, and the barrier between the waves and the shoreline is all that's stopping us."

rafayel remembers being younger, lifetimes ago. he remembers swimming upstream, through a little river that becomes a smaller creek, settling by your quaint home. he remembers playing you a song on his flute, an elegy for lemuria that became your song. he still remembers your head peeking out from the window and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen staring down at him. you were like sunflecks dancing upon the water's surface—dazzling—and he, denizen of the deep dark sea, couldn't help but fall in love. he gave you his heart, his blood, his voice.

"hmm... reminds me of an old fairy tale." you press a kiss to the beauty mark on his chest, your lips curving into a smile against his skin. right above where his heart is, where the proof of your pact would shine bright. "do you think you'd have gotten a pair of legs and we'd live happily ever after on land?"

"of course i would've." rafayel smiles.

(he does not think about the way his voice grew hoarse as he sung lemuria's elegy. he does not think about the dagger he'd clutched so tightly in his hidden hand, as you approached him on the shore. he does not think about the hug, the warmth of your body making his resolve flutter. the warm blood on his hands, in the water, seeping from the heart he once loved and now carved out and cradled. he does not think about returning to a ruined lemuria, everything he's ever loved ripped away from him in a night.)

"then i like that one. what about another? knowing how we quarrel, do you think we were royalty hailing from opposing kingdoms?"

"hmm, close. i'd say that i'm an assassin, sneaking into your lovely highness's bedroom window."

"hah! i can see that." his heart flutters when he hears you giggle. rafayel wishes he could trap that beautiful sound inside a conch shell, it almost seemed possible, the way it felt like molten gold—sunlight. "i'd leave the windows open just so you'd have an easier time coming in."

"glad to know you'd still fall for my charms." he finds it in himself to smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "even if it might not be the brightest idea, dummy."

"hmph, but if we still loved each other then, you wouldn't kill me." your hand reaches upwards to cup his cheek, a thumb aimlessly stroking comforting lines across his skin. his breath hitches at how naturally it comes to you. "you'd fall for my charms too."

(why wouldn't it? you've done it so many times before, as you—dear highness of philos—gingerly removed his mask. he, who was destined to carve out your heart; and he, who could not bear to do so, who fell apart in the warmth of your hold. any hatred he'd held in his heart for the humans that desecrated his home —beautiful, sacred lemuria— dissolved with each ripple of the lake you both had danced across on that silent night. how could he ever hurt his beloved, who in another life he'd devoted entire oceans to?)

"yeah." he breathes out, almost a chuckle. "yeah, i guess i would, your highness."

"rafa?" you murmur, words slurred with the call of sleep, ushered in by him running a hand through your hair. "i really hope that we're soulmates even if it's in the silliest lives you could ever think up. do you?"

(and he hopes for more, a case study in greed. he hopes for the most blissful lives with you—where he's the receding sea and you are the sands of the shore, or you are an anemone polyp and he is the rock you've decided to settle upon, or he is the deepsea fish that looks longingly upon the warmth of the sunflecks that dance upon the water. he hopes there's a life where this whole thing works: where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.)

and rafayel smiles, presses the umpteenth kiss tonight to your forehead, watches you draw closer into his hold. and then he whispers his little wish against your skin, as soft as a siren singing lullabies to a sailor:

"yeah. i hope so too."

a/n: on this lovely valentine's day i offer the rafa stans: angst 🤩 the ending was a bit rushed because i... was no longer in an angsty mood. this fic is very much so a product of a time where i knew less of rafa's lore (see: did not finish the myth) so there may be some lore inaccuracies ... please do listen to berenstein by the band camino!!! l&ds' plot feels like an amalgamation of some of my favourite songs (berenstein, heartbeat by bts, isohel by EDEN)... and it's just such a good plot so far. please send me rafa lore stuff/general thoughts bc i'd love to try and play around with some of them (i have an idea for his birthday fic already) ,,, i'd love and appreciate you immensely ♡

[remiratboi]

Trace

Masterlist

Yandere!UnknownMonsterXHumanGNFatReader

SFW

CW: stalking, yandere, obsession, fear, controlling obsession.

Repost of one of my incomplete monstober posts.

You dropped a crumpled wad of bills on the counter as the clerk eyed your driver’s license suspiciously. You cursed your own laziness at forgetting to change the age. You definitely could not pass for 49. You hadn’t been as thorough after your last place fell through.

The clerks eyes drifted from the ID to the too much money you’d dropped on the counter. You stepped away to pick up your luggage, making it clear you weren’t asking for change. The clerk squinted at you one more time before handing back your ID. He deftly made the money disappear, and a worn key with a motel keychain replaced it.

You nodded once, your mutual understanding a silent one. You had chosen this motel for exactly that reason. They were known for not looking too closely.

You made your way down the broken pavement from the main office back to your beat up Subaru. You didn’t even know what model it was. It had been cheap, and so far hadn’t broken down in over 3000 kms. Thats really all you could ask for.

You followed the tacky printed map the clerk had given you to the section you’d be staying in. It was one of those middle of nowhere, off the highway, motel “resorts”. The kind that boasted “cabins” but meant “run down, one room shacks”.

The outer screen door screeched as you pulled it open. You rolled your eyes. The shack was exactly what you expected; filthy, plain and dated. You didn’t care. It was just one more stop on your chaotic escape to nowhere.

You didn’t bother unpacking your bags. A lukewarm shower and a solid bed to sleep in would be enough. The mattress was hard when you tried to fall asleep that night.

***

You awoke, several hours later. The red, white and yellow of the motel sign flickered through slat blinds. You were cozy in your blankets and you drifted in and out drowsily. You wondered why you couldn’t seem to fully fall back asleep.

The air seemed to be sucked from the room as you woke fully and realized you weren’t alone. You still didn’t stir. You tried to even your breathing, but there was no point.

“Must we play this game, my love?” A deep, smooth voice spoke from nearby. You didn’t respond. “This place is filthy. Wouldn’t you rather come home with me, dove?”

Your skin crawled. Home

As if you shared one. He spoke like you were old lovers having a minor quarrel.

He sighed and you heard a step. He had moved closer.

“I’m getting tired of this. I’ve told you it’s useless to run.” The creature spoke softly, alluringly. Oh how easy it would be to give in. To give up.

“I will beat you.” You muttered from the bed. A human likely wouldn’t have been able to hear you. But he could. You knew he could.

He tsked and reached an arm forward. Your hair stood on end. You felt fluttering fingertips and just the slightest bite of claw down the side of your face. You still squeezed your eyes shut.

“It’s not a competition, dove.” He answered. Then you felt him lean down, lean close. His voice came from just above your face. “And if it was, it still wouldn’t be. You will never escape. I will always find you.” Danger filled his words. They teetered between a promise and a threat. “It doesn’t matter what you do, how far you run, how good of a job you do at erasing yourself. All I need is the barest trace. One single whisper of your scent on the air.” He took in a shuddering breath at the mention of your scent. “I. Will. Always. Find. You.” He growled the last words, punctuating each one.

He leaned forward and crushed your lips under his. It was passionate and desperate. His hand, claws, whatever, gripped both sides of your face and held you to him. Your eyes flew open and you were met with him, the creature. His face haunted your every moment, and here it was, pressed against yours.

Finally he pulled away and stared into your eyes. You could just barely make his out in the dim light. A fire blazed behind his horizontal pupils.

“You’re my mate. You’re mine.”

[thedemoninme141]

Woeful Tooth. (set in the "Not A Bad Day" universe)

Summary: Wednesday doesn't want to go to the dentist.

Theme: FLUFF!!!

Pairings: Wednesday x Fem Reader.

Warnings: Root Canal?!?

Thanks for the insight @cobaltperun

You weren’t one to overthink—well, not much. But the subtle shift in Wednesday’s mood was undeniable. After dating her for months, you had come to learn every expression she wore, no matter how imperceptible it might seem to others.

And right now, something was wrong.

And while Wednesday Addams wasn’t exactly the conversational type, her words now came in curt whispers, that might not alarm anyone else, but it worried you.

In the past few days, her choices leaned exclusively toward soft foods like soups, puddings, and smoothies. And Wednesday eating puddings? That scared you.

“Mashed potatoes, Wednesday?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She leveled you with a glare. “They are not mashed potatoes. They are boiled tubers, pulverized into an unrecognizable state… much like most victims in my books. I find their texture fascinating.”

“You hate soft foods,” you countered, leaning forward. “Last week, you said pudding was ‘an insult to the human palate.’”

She didn’t respond, instead taking an excruciatingly slow bite, her jaw moving in a way that looked… wrong. She was chewing… carefully?

“Oh my god. You’re in pain,” you blurted, a mix of concern and frustration bubbling up.

Wednesday’s hand twitched, the only sign that you’d struck a nerve. “Your imagination is as dramatic as Enid’s wardrobe. I’m fine.”

“She’s not fine,” Enid chirped from her side of the table, “She’s been super moody these days.”

You shot her a look. “When isn’t she moody?”

“Good point.”

Wednesday stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “If this riveting discussion of my character flaws is over, I have more pressing matters to attend to.” Without another word, she strode off, leaving you and Enid.

You didn’t confront her again until later that evening in her dorm, “Alright, spill it.”

Wednesday raised a single eyebrow, still not looking at you. “I’ve spilled nothing.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, weirder than usual. You’re always quiet but how did you get quieter than quiet? And don’t get me started on your sudden love affair with soft foods. Care to explain what’s going on?"

"Is this a lovers’ quarrel? Do I need to—" Enid just entered the room,

"Enid, no," you interrupted. "Enid, yes," Enid countered, smirking. You ignored her and turned back to Wednesday. "I’m serious. Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been eating soft foods, avoiding anything crunchy, and barely talking. That’s not you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Wednesday.” Still nothing.

“Enid, start blasting pop music until she cracks.” You ordered,

"On it mam," Enid smirked going for her laptop.

At that, Wednesday sighed—an actual sigh—and turned to face you. “You are as relentless as the Grim Reaper, though far less charming.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “If you must know, I’m experiencing a mild inconvenience. It’s nothing worth discussing.”

You tilted your head, studying her. “Define ‘mild.’”

“An intermittent, dull ache.”

“In English?”

She scowled. “A toothache.”

“Wait, you have a tooth problem?” Enid’s grin widened. “This is hilarious.”

“I fail to see the humor,” Wednesday deadpanned.

“I’m calling the dentist,” you announced.

“No, you are not.”

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She crossed her arms, “Pain builds character.”

“Pain builds cavities if you don’t deal with it,” you shot back.

She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I enjoy the pain. It’s a constant reminder of mortality, a delightful ache that—”

“Stop. Just stop,” you interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re not romanticizing a toothache right now.”

“You are overreacting,” she said coolly.

“And you’re underreacting!” you replied, unable to hold back any longer.

Enid laughed. “This is way better than the TV shows Yoko watches.”

You pointed a finger at Wednesday. “If you think I’m letting that tooth-problemed mouth anywhere near my things—” “What things?” Enid interrupted. You ignored her, focusing on Wednesday’s icy glare. “—then you’ve got another thing coming.” Wednesday stood abruptly, somehow towering over you despite her "height".

“I refuse to be dragged into some sterile torture chamber.”

“Oh, you’re being dragged, alright.”

You grabbed her hand, your grip firm despite her half-hearted attempts to wriggle free.

“This is a violation of my autonomy,” she hissed as you pulled her toward the door. “You’ll thank me later.” “You’re insufferable,” Wednesday muttered. “I love you too,” you replied Behind you, Enid called out, “WHAT THINGS?”

"This place reeks of mundanity," Wednesday muttered. You sighed, gripping her hand, which she allowed but did not return. "Wednesday, it’s a dentist’s office, not a dungeon." "I would prefer the dungeon," she replied dryly. Before you could respond, you heard the assistant's voice, "Wednesday Addams?" "That’s us," you said, standing and tugging Wednesday up with you.

"Well, I have some good news and some bad news," The dentist began. "Start with the bad," Wednesday said flatly. "Your tooth isn’t just decayed—it’s broken."

You blinked. "Broken? What do you mean broken?"

"It looks like it was fractured with blunt force—something hard enough to crack it deep into the root. That’s likely why you’ve been in so much pain."

You whipped around to face her. "Blunt force? What the hell, Wednesday? What did you do?"

Wednesday’s eyes flicked to you, her expression carefully blank. "Nothing of note."

"Wednesday…"

"I fail to see how this line of questioning is relevant," she replied.

You opened your mouth to press further, but the dentist interjected. "I understand this might be a surprise, but for now, let’s focus on treatment. We’ll start with a root canal to clean out the infection and save the tooth. It’s a multi-step process, so today we’ll address the infection and prep the area. Afterward, we’ll schedule a follow-up to place a crown and finalize the procedure."

You sighed, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to interrogate Wednesday. "Fine. Let’s just get it fixed."

The dentist nodded. "Alright, Wednesday, I’ll numb the area first, and then we’ll get started."

Wednesday didn’t even flinch as the needle approached. Instead, she shot you a pointed glance, as if daring you to comment. "She’s handling this easily," The dentist remarked as she drilled the decay. "Most people squirm a little." "Wednesday doesn’t squirm," you muttered, half in admiration, half in exasperation.

After about half an hour, the dentist stepped back, wiping her hands. "That’s the worst of it done. I’ve placed a temporary filling, but she’ll need to return for the crown placement. I’ll schedule the next appointment before you leave."

"Thanks, Doc," you said, relieved.

"Avoid eating anything hard or chewy until the permanent crown is in place. And no blunt force trauma to your mouth, please."

You shot Wednesday a look. She remained silent.

The bus ride back to Nevermore was quiet, You sat beside Wednesday, leaning your head against her shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you. "That wasn’t so bad," you murmured sleepily, your eyes drifting shut.

Wednesday didn’t respond, her gaze fixed straight ahead. But as the minutes ticked by, her eyes softened, shifting down to you. Your breathing was slow and even, your face peaceful against her shoulder.

Beating those boys in Weathervane, who Enid mentioned had made comments about you, was worth it. Even if it had cost her a tooth.

[Author's note: Trying to improve my one-shot writings more, how do you feel about this one? You guys can consider this is set in "Not A Bad Day"s universe, prolly after you two started dating, maybe I can write a one set on how Wednesday asked you out]

MORE ONESHOTS HERE--->WORKLIST

[sukunas-wife]

I don’t know who needs to hear this

But yes,

After teaching all day when Sukuna is laying in bed on his back shirtless because he hates the constriction when he’s trying to relax

he has his left arm tucked behind his head, eyes closed until you come and plop down on his right side with your back pressed to his side so you can rest your head on his bicep

He doesn’t open his eyes to look at you knowing he’ll only be greeted by the back of your head because odds are your tapping away on your phone

Time passes and he slowly moves the arm your laying on to hold you in a loose choke hold that used to scare the life out of you.

Now you just lift your chin slightly to rest it on the crook of his elbow

That’s his affection in the summer heat

He won’t turn to hug you, but he persists on holding you in a loose choke hold to assure himself you really are there

This happens a lot of places surprisingly, usually when he’s lost in thought

Example

The time you had to commute on the train with Gojo and Geto because Gojo was reckless and forgot to call ijichi back after scaring him off. It was the golden hour and you were tired refusing to sit knowing you’d sit and fall asleep and you would not have Gojo or Geto bullying you for snoring. So you stood by Sukuna back pressing to his side and arm as you yawned watching as Geto crossed his arms over his chest eyes closing as his head slipped forward when he fell asleep. Your head fell back against Sukuna’s shoulder and you yawned again. You stayed like that for a bit until you felt Sukuna move his arm, you leaned off of him thinking he was telling you to move until you felt his elbow hit your shoulder and his arm come up and squeeze your neck. You panicked briefly hand reaching up to grab his arm stopping midway when you felt him loosen his hold and sigh. “You really fucked this up Satoru.” Ryomen’s voice reverberated through your back as your head fell to the side to look at Gojo, he was holding a hand on Geto’s head pulling him onto his shoulder, “Yeah ye-“ he stopped, looking at the two of you, “oho, I knew you were a freak Sukuna but I didn’t know you’d be into choking our little y/n in public.” You let your chin fall against Sukuna’s arm supporting your head. Sukuna huffed, “Didn’t know a twink like you had the balls to talk out your ass.”

The second time it happened you were standing there talking to Fushiguro and Satoru about some “lesson” plan but really it was Satoru trying to convince both of you to go to his end of the week work party. In all honesty he messed up and made Suguru mad and didn’t want to be alone with him while he was sober. So a work party at the barbecue place with drinks would be good enough to get Suguru off his case til the next day when he had to go off on a mission. Toji was trying to find an escape thinking the two younger sorcerers should talk their issues out as his wife had beat into him instead of using a buffer. Toji was about to say his wife needed him home, until Ryomen walked up behind you pulling you against his chest in a loose head lock, his other arm casually tapping away at his phone that he stared at uninterested as he spoke up “We can’t make it we have other plans Satoru.” Toji had a sly smile and a brow quirked watching both of you, he dropped a heavy hand on Gojo’a shoulder, “Good luck with your little lover’s quarrel.” Toji turned stopping almost shoulder to shoulder with Sukuna, “Might have to try that one out on my wife.” It was a lie, you all knew his wife would beat him over the head for ever treating her like that. But looking up you didn’t miss the side eyes and faint smirks they shared. There was no doubt they were true blood brothers.

The third time Sukuna had a mission, you just wanted to tag along to see how he worked on the field. It’s not like you hadn’t, but this time you’d get to see him up close. It wasn’t a long mission, but Sukuna always got the best stay inns when he did go on missions. So when he dragged out his mission to be able to stay in a hotel you were excited to tag along with him to the hotels fancy dinner. It was a tradition Japanese theme, polished carved wood, the dinnerware was hand carved wood if it wasn’t hand made porcelain dinner wear. You watched as the lady wearing a kimono brought your food, in beautiful porcelain bowls taking away your empty appetizer plates, setting down dishes of salads, soups and other side dishes before setting down a large tray of different meats. You perked up as she left you both to eat. Your stomach growling as Sukuna didn’t waste time in eating, you looked up at him with a smile, he seemed to be enjoying himself as he picked form sides eating meat and rice. You joined in until the plates were empty and you both left, the both of you had assumed since the school knew you would be joining Sukuna’s mission there would be a double bed room. To your dismay the hotel only understood it should be a single king size bed. Sukuna didn’t offer to take a sofa, saying the both of you would share the bed and that would be the end of it. Well as you both got into bed, you yawned rolling to your side to leave Sukuna more space, it was a surprise when you felt him yank you into his side, wrapping his arm around your neck pulling your back against his side, you turned to look at him watched as he yawned tucking his other arm behind his head. The arm around your neck, his hand rubbed over your shoulder as he finished yawning. “Go to sleep idiot” you couldn’t help but smile slightly as he yawned, a faint smile twitching at the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes.

Squishy Tag List

@sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl l @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing

[jogetsobsessed]

Friendship Bracelets - Paul Lahote x Reader

Hearing the engine of the rusty orange truck cut caused you to stir from your place on the couch. Your homework was sprawled all across the living room, the static of the TV crackling as it was in between channels. 

You were slightly annoyed that your sister was home cause that meant that her beau was in tow and you'd have to witness the awkward love the two of them shared. 

“Bella why don't you just listen to me”, your sister's boyfriend argued. Great, they were having their hourly argument. These happened so often because your sister was one of the most stubborn people you've ever met. 

“Edward drop it. I'm doing it and you can't tell me otherwise”, your sister shot back. 

“Bella I said no”, he downright yelled. 

They crashed into the kitchen and you could see how they were both physically angry and neither wanted to back down from their standpoint of whatever the hell they were talking about. 

“You don't get to make my decisions for me”, Bella screamed. 

“It's not safe for you to go alone Bella, and I obviously can't go”, Edward yelled., 

By now you were leaning against the doorframe observing the lovers quarrel, holding back laughter. You had to watch them go through this every day, except this time Edward seemed to be holding his ground even more, so it had to be serious. Normally he just gave in to your quarrelsome sister but not this time. 

Bella looked around completely baffled that somebody wasn't just giving her the green light to do whatever she wanted to do. As she looked around exasperated she spotted you listening in on the conversation and her eyes sparkled. 

“I won't go alone”, she proudly declared. 

“Hmm”, Edward hummed in question. 

“Y/N’s going with me”, Bella stated. 

“Absolutely not, I’m not letting you drag me into this”, you yelled suddenly less amused. 

“Bella just dropped it”, Edward stated clearly not enthused by Bella’s response. 

“Y/N just do this for me please”, Bella pleaded. 

She looked up at you with pleading eyes. Clearly, this was important to her. And no matter how much she pissed you off, you enjoy pissing Edward off even more. 

“Yeah Eddy boy I guess I’m going with good ole Bells to…where the hell are we going Bella?”, you asked. 

“La Push” 

---------------------

The truck rattled down the gravel driveway as your sister drove you to the undisclosed location that apparently meant so much to her. 

Pulling to a stop in front of a wooden cabin in the middle of the woods you couldn't help but admire its beauty. Though the house itself was worn down in front of it barrels full of flowers and homemade raised flower beds were littered around. 

“Stay in the car”, your sister nonchalantly said. 

“Umm no”, you argued back. 

“I shouldn't be long, half an hour tops' ', was all she had to say. 

“Bella, I'm not letting you leave me here for thirty minutes. I’m helping you out by coming with you. I agreed to go with you with whatever you were doing, not to stay in the car”, you retorted. 

“Fine, just be careful and try to be quiet”, she sighed. 

“Whatever weirdo”, you answered. 

As the doors of the truck slammed shut and both of you hopped out the front door to the cabin two tanned-skinned boys came barreling out, both wanting to be the first to talk to Bella. 

“Bella is that you”, one of the boys called out. 

“Dude you know it's her don't be weird”, the other replied, shoving his friend nearly to the ground. 

Bella just laughed and nodded for you to follow her, the both of you stopping right in front of the two shirtless boys. 

“Who's the girl Bella?”, boy number one asked as he eyed you up and down, clearly suspicious. 

“This is my younger sister, I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned her a few times, or at least Jacob has”, Bella answered. 

“Umm I’m Y/N”, you said shyly, granting them a small wave. As much as you didn't want to be you were intimidated by the two boys, something about their presence, maybe it was the way they were standing was almost animalistic. 

“Jared," the boy said. 

“Quil”, the other spoke. 

“Great, now that introductions are done, can we go in? I came to talk to Jacob and he said to meet him here”, Bella asked. 

“Yeah, everyone’s inside we were just heading out to go run the perimeter…hey!”, Jared was cut off by a smack from Quil who looked at him as if he had three heads. 

The strange cadence to their voices through you off and how quick Quill was to cut Jared off downright made you nervous, but you weren't going to say anything. You didn't want to be rude. 

Bella mumbled for you to follow her, which you did. Trudging up the old wooden steps you glanced around your sister's body to glance through the small glass window next to the front door. 

Inside around a large circular wooden table sat more tanned skin boys, all with their shirts off. They were laughing and shoving each other while eating what looked like pumpkin bread. You were able to recognize Jacob, even though he looked different from the last time you saw him. You could also see a girl, she had a large scar that covered a portion of her face and she was standing in the kitchen mixing a bowl of batter. 

Without hesitation, Bella rapped her knuckles against the wooden door, clearly impatient that it didn't open within the first five seconds. 

Still looking through the window you could see all the faces turn to look towards your direction. As quickly as you could you moved to hide behind your sister, embarrassed that you had been spotted. 

“Bella it's good to see you”, the girl with the bowl of batter said as she opened the door, one of the shirtless boys protective watching from over her shoulder. 

“You too Emily, Sam”, Bella added nodding to the guy standing behind the girl, who you now knew as Emily. 

“And this must be your little sister, Y/N right”, Emily asked, her eyes shining bright. 

“Yeah”, you breathed out still on edge. 

“Well, it's nice to finally meet you Y/N. You, ladies, need to come inside, it's freezing out there”, Emily ushered, opening the door wider and pushing Sam out of the way. He gave you a half smile and a nod as if he could sense that you were nervous. 

Bella barged in like she owned the place and went straight towards the table of boys, all of them amused at her presence not bothering to really give you a good look. 

“Jacob”, she barked. 

Jacob looked up from where he was sitting to roll his eyes at Bella's neediness. After they had a mini staring contest he looked beyond so he could see you. Sending you a cheesy grin he shot up and out of his seat. Rushing over to you and scooping you into his arms, spinning you around, 

“Little Y/N. You’re all grown up”, he said laughing. After holding onto you for a few more seconds he let your feet return to the earth again before keeping you an arm's length away so he could get a good look at you. 

Your back faced the dining room table and Jacob smiled as he saw truly how much you had grown up. 

“It's been six or seven years. How long have you been back?”, he asked. 

“Like three weeks. Been trying to get acclimated back to Forks after all these years”, you told him. 

“Well, I’m glad you're back now, even though I am a little annoyed that Bella and Charlie have been keeping you all to themselves for these past few weeks. And before I go off to see whatever the hell it is your sister wants to drag me into, I'll introduce you to these idiots right here”, Jacob told you. 

You turned around so you were facing the table. You could see a couple of the boys were now looking at you and the rest were semi-focused on the pumpkin bread they were eating.

“This here is Embry, Seth, Brady, and Collin. And you’ve already met Sam and Emily. And I assume Jared and Quil introduced themselves on their way out. All you are missing is Leah who is not here right now and Paul who should be here in a little bit” 

You said hi to everyone and accepted the seat that Jacob offered you and a slice of pumpkin bread from Emily. After being assured by your sister and Jacob that they would be right back, you agreed to wait and hang out with your new friends, or people you hoped were going to be your new friends. 

------------------

You had no idea how much time had passed since your sister and Jacob had been gone but you didn't really care. 

This was the most amount of fun you had experienced in months. The boys had convinced you to play a card game with them once a girl, whom you were introduced to as Leah, came over. They had even got Sam to play with you guys and it was a total blast. Cards were flying everywhere every time one of the boys lost a hand. Emily had been watching from the kitchen giggling every time an insult was thrown at her fiance. 

“God dammit. This game is so freaking stupid”, Embry exclaimed after he was the very apparent loser of the last round. As he slammed his cards against the table and everyone laughed at his tantrum the front door was pushed open and three more people entered laughing at their own conversation. 

Looking to see what was going on you smiled at your sister and Jacob noticing that they had the third with them. You were pleased to see that Bella looked less agitated than she had before they left and Jacob looked intact. 

“Oh hey Y/n that's Paul”, Seth said, nodding to the third person with your sister and Jacob after they started to make their way toward the dining room table. Turning your head to face the illusive Paul you were startled. 

He stood there next to Jacob and when the two of you locked eyes you saw every ounce of oxygen leave his body all at once. He looked shocked and extremely pleased and scared all at once. 

It was overwhelming and you had no idea what was happening. But you were smart enough to know that it was something. 

Nobody said anything in the passing moments and there was so much tension in the room it began to get too hard to breathe. You looked between Paul, Jacob, and your sister, too afraid to speak. Your eyes begging them for an explanation. Jared opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but a hand clamped down on his shoulder shut him up before anything happened. 

“Everyone out…NOW”, Sam growled. As lightning came and went, almost everyone was out of the house. All that was left was yourself, Sam, Paul, your sister, and Jacob. Emily didn't leave the house but she did excuse herself upstairs to go busy with something other than baking. “Paul”, Sam was the one to speak again. 

You were still perched on the dining room chair, your hands holding your knees that were curled against you.

You watch as Sam gives the three left still standing a look causing Jacob to pull Bella towards the barstools that rested under the kitchen counter, and surprisingly she didn't put up a fight like she normally does. 

That left Paul, having not moved an inch since whatever it was that happened between the two of you. 

Sam moved towards Paul and he moved his hand onto Paul's shoulder giving him a nod and a slight push in your direction. Jacob then whispered something to Bella, which caused her to stand up from her barstool and throw her hands up, her mouth opening to have a freakout. But Jacob harshly shrugged her down and clamped a hand over her mouth so nothing could come out. You almost lost it over her defeated look, but you refrained since the situation seemed grave. 

“Paul, would you rather do this alone?”Sam broke the silence. 

“Umm yeah, why don't we head out back. I’m gonna send everyone in. But we’re gonna stay close just in case, um you know”, Paul stammered. 

Paul moved towards the back door but backtracked so he was standing to the side of you. He held out his hand towards you. Every ounce of you was screaming internally telling you to not take it and run. But there was a small part of you, a point zero, zero one percent of you told you to trust him. And even though that percentage was so small the idea was echoed throughout. 

So slowly you reached out, accepting his invitation and letting him softly pull you out of the chair. You could tell that once your hand was in his he relaxed. He found enough confidence to even twirl a bracelet you wore on your wrist so that he could get a better look at it. 

Weaving through Emily’s house you looked over your shoulder and saw Jacob's mouth that you were going to be okay, and Bella was fuming but that was usual for her so you didn't think twice. 

Paul opened up the back door for you letting you out first, but not letting go of your hand. The group that had once occupied the kitchen table was now kicking a soccer ball around and chatting. But the conversation stopped once Paul's steps squeaked the wooden floorboards of the porch.

Smirks were placed on their faces but were immediately wiped off once Paul literally growled at them, which sent shivers down your spine. 

The soccer ball was quickly abandoned and they all rushed by and back into Emily’s house, but not before they could send a few teasing remarks toward Paul, which caused him to huff and puff a bit. But he quickly got over it once he looked towards you. 

He pulled you towards a set of lawn furniture that looked like it had seen better days that rested on the wrap-around porch. 

Once you sat down on the couch you once again pulled your legs against your chest. It was a mental way of creating a boundary between you and Paul that you weren't even doing consciously. 

Once he was next to you his hands found yours yet again. You were somewhat calmed by the sudden warmth that he gave off. 

“Y/I need to tell you something”, Paul finally said. 

“Yeah I figured as such”, you said slightly laughing trying to bring humor in to break up the tension. Paul met your laughter as he twisted your bracelet around some more. 

“So obviously something happened”, he drawled. 

“Yeah”

“Do you want me to be blunt or sugarcoat it”, he asked. 

“Be blunt”, you answered. 

“OK well umm. There's no easy way to put this but you see well. My tribe, the Quileutes, we’re special. Some of us have a special gene that makes us different”

“You’re sugarcoating it”, you interrupted. 

“I'm sorry, fine. The gene makes us shifters. We shift into wolves. I’m a werewolf”

“Be so for real right now”, you answered, absolutely breaking out into laughter. With your comment, you could hear a collection of howling laughter coming from in the house. Paul looked absolutely bewildered but regained his composure, a smirk of disbelief formed on his face as he shook his head. 

“That's why I wanted to tell you the full story. I think it would have been a little more believable, then hey I’m a werewolf. But you’re the impatient one”, Paul said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Ok, so wolf boy. How do I come into this mix?”, you questioned. 

“That's the even more complicated part”

“Spill”

“Shifters have something called imprints. You’re mine”, he gulped at the last part as he looked at you for approval. 

You wouldn't believe what you were hearing. This was insane. Not believing him at all and believing him fully at the same time. 

You couldn't deny the connection that you felt with him, but werewolves don't exist. Or at least you didn't think that they did. 

“Imprints are like soulmates. But they don't have to be romantic. It could just be me being your protector or a friend. Or something more. It's your ultimate choice in the matter”. Paul had a firm grip on your hand now like he needed to be touching some part of you at the moment. '`Do you have anything to say?”, he asked. 

Inhaling as much air as your lungs could take in and letting it all out slowly you shifted yet again this time so you were fully in front of him. You wanted more time to think over everything that had just been thrown at you but part of you was terrified. If you asked for more time to think you would get in your head or worse let Bella get in your head. Since you were pretty positive that she knew everything that was going on based on her reactions earlier. 

“Would a human imprint, would they feel the connection too?”

“Yeah. Umm not completely like a wolf but they do. You’ll feel drawn to me. Any emotions surrounding me will feel heightened. You can feel the connection”, Paul answered. 

“Cool”, was all that you could manage to get out. This reaction made Paul heartily laugh and it made your heart warm to see him light up. 

---------------

“So what's the deal with you and Bella? We met her about a year ago and she just mentioned that she had a sister and that was it. Why did you just now come out of the woodwork?”Paul asked. You were now leaning against his chest, snuggled into it appreciating the warmth he provided against the freezing winds that whipped through the forest Emily's house sat in. 

“Well, I lived with my mom and stepdad for pretty much most of my life. My dad and mom got together pretty soon after Renee and he got divorced. That's why I'm only two years younger than Bella. A few months ago my stepdad found out he was sick and my mom wanted to move across the country so he could be treated at Boston Medical Center since they have a trial program he’s eligible for. Which I was all for because I love my step-dad and want him to get treated but it would have been too hard for me to go with him. So my mom called Charlie and asked if I could move back here”

“Damn I'm so sorry Y/N”, Paul softy said as he pulled you closer to him. 

“It's fine. My mom sends me daily updates on him and I’m glad to be back here with Charlie. And really it's probably a good thing that Bella and I are around each other more. Really our entire lives the only time we’ve gotten to know each other is over the phone”, you assured him. 

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Paul hummed no melody in particular and continued to wrap your bracelet in circles slowly around your wrist. You watched as it turned left and right and Paul's eyes concentrated on it. 

“I can make you one”, you said looking up to meet his eyes and giving him a sweet smile. He looked shocked for a second, almost embarrassed that you had caught him playing with it. 

“I don't wanna have to make you do anything for me”, Paul stuttered, but he still did not drop your left wrist. 

“Paul it would be no big deal. It's easy. I even have the colors left over. We could match”, You wiggled your eyebrows at the last point attempting to calm him down. Which worked. He laughed at your weirdness and pulled you tight to him again. 

“The packs gonna give me such crap for wearing a pink and orange bracelet”, he whined pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Such it up Lahote, You're getting a matching friendship bracelet”

-----------

1st post on tumblr, kinda nervous to see how this is going to do lol.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Feliz aniversário (hope thats correct) 😁🎂

If you don't mind maybe you could do "What if I kissed you right now? Would you stop me" with ⚔️ and a fem!reader please? Doesn't have to be nsfw.

Anon, that was perfect portuguese! Thank you so much for the birthday wishes! ❤️❤️ I know you said that it doesn't have to be NSFW, but it kind of turned out VERY NSFW... 😶 I hope that's still okay and I hope you enjoy it! I know I say this about all the stories, but damn did I have a lot of fun with this one!

I found the Zoro pic on Pinterest and couldn't find the artist. If you know it, please tell me so I can give credit! 🙏

Menace

Word Count: 5586

Tags: Fem!Reader; Rough Sex; Hate Sex; Enemies to Friends with Benefits; Edging; Power Dynamics; Spanking; NSFW; MDNI; Cursing; Alternate Universe - Modern Day College;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Your fraternity house, The Straw Hats, is hosting an auction to raise money for charity. The pleasure of your company has just been bought by the most insufferable man on campus, Roronoa Zoro. You've known him since you were kids, hated him for just as long, and now you're his for the night.

Notes: Yeah I can't take it... I was going to post this tomorrow but I'm terrible. I cannot hold on to a finished fic for more than half an hour. Should I post everyday? Maybe not, but, hey, let's break all the rules 🤯 I post and you all read whenever you got the time! How about that? 😅 I hope you enjoy this! ❤️

|Masterlist|

“Why do you hate Zoro so much?” Nami casually downs her –second? Third?– serving of vodka and doesn't even wince at the burn. 

“It's complicated.” You take a small sip of your second refill and stop trying to keep up with Nami, or you'll be drunk before the auction even begins. 

“Try me!” She challenges you with a grin and pours another drink on her red cup. 

With a heavy sigh, you roll your eyes almost to the back of your head. “We go way back. Mihawk was my neighbour, and Perona used to be my babysitter, so I played with Zoro all the time, and he was always an insufferable prick. I just can't stand him.” Clenching your teeth, you forget about your self-imposed rule of slowing down and drink the contents of your cup in one long gulp. 

You regret it immediately. 

“Damn, that burns.”

“That's it?” Nami scoffs. “How anticlimactic.”

“What did you expect?” Setting the cup aside, you raise your brow while scanning the crowd. The party is finally picking up speed. 

“I don't know. Anything is more interesting than that. That doesn't even make sense! A lover's quarrel, a con gone wrong, you broke his favourite toy as a kid… anything!”

With a pout, you take offence at Nami's words and mumble between your teeth. “I still have a right to hate his guts. We're just not compatible.”

Nami empties her cup again and shrugs. “Weirdo! Well, looks like the party is filling up, let's take our place on the stage!”

The groan that leaves your lips sounds like it came from the depths of hell. Damn it, you really didn't want to do this tonight. But you still follow Nami through the raging crowd and up the rickety steps of the impromptu stage –the kitchen and the living-room table lined up into an unstable surface – your irritation mounting up more and more. “Remind me why we're doing this again?” You ask through gritted teeth. 

“It's a charity auction! For those kids with congenital diseases in Punk Hazard. It's an awesome cause, come on. You can bear this.”

Usopp takes ‘the stage’ and starts tapping the mic, a frown on his lips. “Oi, Franky, this is not working.”

“Yes, yes.” You continue. “I'm sure I can bear subjecting myself to be sold at an auction because ‘it's for charity’!” You say with varying degrees of eye-rolling. “Hey, Robin.” You greet the arriving girl. “Nami set you up for this too?”

Robin smiles at you with her sweet, beautiful smile. “She didn't have to. It's for charity! And you're not selling yourself, it's the pleasure of your company.”

Nami laughs and you groan. “You two are too good for this world.”

“Ah, yes, perfect! Thank you, Franky!” Usopp finally manages to get the mic to work, and the crowd starts to gather in front of the stage. The Straw Hats frat house, which you are a member of, is not big, but it's not that small either. You guys started small, didn't even make it to ten original members, but Luffy made such a name for himself that now, people rush all over campus just to join. “Welcome, welcome to the charity auction for… for…”

“The kids, dumbass!” Nami growls and hits him in the head. 

“The kids! So, it has come to our attention that we were being–...” Usopp takes out a cue card from his pocket. “Misogynistic pigs.” He quotes with his fingers and sets the card aside. “Because we only had a line up of ladies up for auction.”

A chorus of boos fills the space, and you chuckle as Usopp starts to sweat. “Buuuuut, we fixed that! So, today, we will host an all-gender auction with the original members of the Straw Hats.” A loud cheer erupted, and you could've sworn the foundations of the very house shook. “And some extras.” Usopp adds with a grin and gives the crowd more time to get excited. 

“Get your berries ready for: Nami–” The crowd cheers and wolf-whistles and you can hear Sanji threatening every man that dares look at Nami the wrong way. “Franky!” The woos are so loud that you almost have to cover your ears. “Robin, Luffy and his brothers, and yes, ladies and germs, they do come as a package, so bid high, Sanji, me–” He stops to hear the cheers but only Kaya, Usopp’s girlfriend, gives him a loud wolf-whistle. “Our rookie/mascot Chopper and our own lovely girl.” He says your name and you're surprised to hear some catcalls as well. 

Wait, no Zoro? He managed to bail out of charity? How? 

“Nami, did the asshole get lost on the way here? Or you didn't sign him up for this?” You ask, curious. 

“Damn Zoro! He owes me so much money that I thought I could convince him to do this, but he had one favour to call, one measly favour! And he used it.” She seems genuinely pissed, and now you share the sentiment. Why didn't you have a favour to call? 

But then the auction starts, and the bidding for Nami goes crazy. Sanji wants to deck every guy that even dares to bid, so he ends up being the winner. No surprise there, he's been in love with Nami since they met. Robin’s bidding is pretty tame because she looks a bit intimidating, but Trafalgar Law, the med student, wins, and you smirk. You've been trying to set those two up for ages. Luffy's bidding goes crazy because Boa Hancock only wants to bid for Luffy, she says she doesn't want to babysit the two morons, but she manages to convince another two girls to bid with her, and they take home “the prize”

When your turn finally arrives, you sigh, wishing against all hope that whoever bids for you is not an asshole and that you manage to share some good conversation. 

The bids start small, like all night. The highest they went was 3,000 berries for Luffy –and the two morons– so if you make it to 1,000, you'll be happy to have contributed! You notice that rival frat boy Rob Lucci keeps bidding and eyeing you weirdly. Your stomach churns a little bit at the prospect of having to spend time with him, since you just rejected his date invitation last week. Seems like he didn't give up. 

“2,000 berries.” A gruff, familiar voice shakes your thoughts, making your heart pound. In anger. Obviously. 

It's freaking Zoro. Why the hell is he bidding for your company? Other than the fact that you hate each other, you live in the same house –hell, you live across from each other. 

Rob Lucci grunts and raises his arm. “3,000 berries.” What? That's how much Luffy and his brothers got. What's going on? 

“The fuck? 5,000 berries.” Zoro growls at Usopp as he approaches the stage. “And you better bang that damn hammer down, Usopp.”

You stare at Zoro, eyes wide and mouth open. Did he really just bid 5k for a night with you?

“It's a gavel…” Usopp starts and Zoro narrows his eyes at him. “Sold!”

-*-

What the fuck did he just do? Zoro wants to blame his lack of judgement on the booze, but he barely just made it to the party, he only had one beer. He hates you. He can't stand your insufferable ass. So why did he bid that much money on your company? 

Just to make her night miserable. 

He's trying to convince himself, but in reality, he couldn't stand the way the fuckers in the crowd were talking about you. About what they would do if they got your company, about what they would try to accomplish for a chance with you. 

That shit had made his blood boil and, suddenly, he couldn't stand the thought of any man being in your company. 

And then that fucker Lucci made his bid. And there was no fucking way he would get his hands on you, not if Zoro could help it. He’s a fucking creep. 

But damn. The look of incredulity on your face is driving him crazy. The way your brows raise, making your eyes shine brighter. The way your perfect lips curve downward in disappointment? Zoro snickers. Well, at least his stupidity managed to make you mad! 

“5,000 berries, Zoro?” The way your dress hugs your curves perfectly is doing things to him that he wishes to ignore. He hates your guts. You’re insufferable and annoying. And when you were little, you were such a menace to all of his toys and play swords, always breaking things and taking them out of place. He couldn't stand you! But that doesn't mean he doesn't have eyes on his face. You are stunning as hell. And your body always managed to burn desire into his veins. 

“And I would've paid more just to see that annoyed look on your face, Menace.” The way you purse your lips in rage is satisfying in more ways than one. “Now I can ruin your night. Look at how much fun that's going to be.”

“Fuck this. I'm out.” You turn your back on him, and he grunts, taking a step forward and grabbing your wrist. You stop suddenly, shaken by the same thing as him, for sure. The way a jolt of electricity burns through his veins, making his heart skip a damn beat. Shit. 

“You can't just say you're out. I paid for you.” Just ignore it. 

“Correction, asshole, you paid for my company, but, for you, my company is worth ten times more than that!” You jerk your arm away from him, and he seethes when you leave with stamping feet. But he doesn't follow you yet, especially because, by the way your hips are swaying, he much rather stay in this spot and take it all in. 

Damn it. He fucking loathes you. 

-*-

The fucking nerve! How could he? Damn Zoro! Came out of nowhere just to ruin your night. As if you'd spend your night hanging with him! Doesn't matter if he looks damn hot in his fitted dress shirt and jeans. Who cares? He's an asshole. 

Crap, you need a drink. 

You take a turn in the hallway to get back to the party instead of running away, as you were going to do, and run face-first into Rob fucking Lucci. 

“Hello, Doll.” He drawls out, and you grimace. The fuck? “All alone? Where's your buyer?”

A frown paints your lips at his lazy insult. Buyer? As if someone could own you. 

“Hi Lucci, I don't know, frankly, don't even care. Bye.” You shrug and move to pass by him and return to the party, but he blocks your way with his towering frame, a predatory smile haunting his lips as an unwilling shiver courses through your veins. 

“Leaving so soon?” Lucci takes a step towards you and you back off. “Stay a while, Doll, we can have fun.” Alarm bells sound in your head as you frantically look around and take another step back, hitting the wall. 

“I don't think so, Lucci. I'm going.” With a deep breath, you try to move past him, but he places one hand on your chest, above your breasts, and pushes you against the wall with a thud. 

“Is it money you want? Roronoa dropped 5k, but I wasn't willing to give more for charity.” His hand climbs until it's pressuring your neck, and you start to panic. The other hand slips beneath the strap of your dress and pulls on it until it breaks, almost revealing your breast. You open your mouth to scream, but he covers it. “I can give 5k just for you, if that's what you want. To be treated like a little whore.”

He barely finishes the word before a fist comes flying out of nowhere and decks him right on the nose. He grunts and falls down, freeing you in the process, and you gasp as you stare at Zoro's angry scowl. He's baring his teeth, body still angled from the force of the blow, heavy breaths making his shoulders heave. 

“The fuck did you just call her, you fucking asshole?” Zoro takes another step towards Lucci –who's bleeding from his nose and curling down on the floor– and kicks him in the stomach. “Better get the fuck out of my sight before I break more than your fucking nose.”

And to your surprise, he does. He gets up with a string of curses and just leaves. You're still leaning against the wall, a hand on your neck, soothing the pain from Lucci’s grip, and staring at Zoro. He defended you. He hates you. 

“You cool?” Zoro turns to you, an indecipherable expression on his face. 

“I'm fine.” You utter. Maybe you should thank him. 

“Next time don't indulge him.” He says with so much disdain that your shock wears off completely. 

“Excuse me? Indulge him? He fucking cornered me! And I didn't need your fucking help!” You take a step in Zoro's direction but quickly take another step back when he does the same to you, anger flaring in his eyes. 

“Didn't you, really?” He laughs right in your face, and his breath is warm and smells of alcohol and forbidden things. “The fuck is this, then?” He grabs the loose strap of your dress, and the smallest touch of his fingertips against your bare skin is enough to set it on fire. 

“I… It’s…”

“Just say thank you, Menace. It's not that hard! It's two fucking words.” He slams his hand against the wall beside your face. This close, you can almost feel the body heat coming from his chest, which he now has out for everyone to see since he unbuttoned half of his shirt. 

He's right. You should thank him. But it's a weakness you don't want to show him. 

“You want me to say two words?” He hums low and you can almost feel the vibration coming from his chest. You lean forward, your face mere inches from his, hatred burning so hot and fierce in your body that you can't even differentiate it from the desire you know you also feel, even if it kills you to admit it. Licking your lips, and rejoicing in the way his eye darts to them, you say with contempt, “Make. Me.”

You can almost sense the heat rising with the words you spoke. The tension crackles and burns, coiling around your bodies like a lithe snake. 

“You're fucking testing me right now.” His words burn straight into your core. How can you hate and, at the same time, want him so much? 

“All talk, no action, right? I'm familiar with your type.”

His smirk seems deranged, and damn if that doesn't make your panties soak. 

“What if I kissed you right now, Menace, would you stop me?” The velvet in his words almost makes your head spin. Would you? Stop him? Your eyes drop to his mouth, and you bite your lower lip in anticipation. 

Probably not. 

But he doesn't even let you answer, his smirk disappears as his eyes linger on your lips again. For a moment, you think he's going to do it, but then he leans back and lets out a dry laugh, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Got ya.”

Shit. You feel really dumb right now. You really thought he was going to kiss you. 

This is a very dangerous game you're playing right now. And you're done. “Thank you, for helping me.” You let out, slowly, before you push him and return to the party. 

-*-

“You're hiding from me, Menace. I paid for your company. Humour me.”

You did spend the last hour trying to avoid Zoro, because something stirred within you since he decked fucking Rob Lucci for your honour. As if you were a freaking damsel in distress. Fuck hormones, fuck primal desire for strong men, fuck fairytale movies, and fuck romance books. 

But in reality, all you really want is to fuck Roronoa Zoro. 

And that right there is why you need to stay the hell away from him. Because he's an asshole and you hate him. “Why do you hate Zoro?” Nami's words have been resounding in your head for the last hour and, frankly, you don't even know. It's just one of those certain things in life, like the sun rising and setting every day. The sun rises, you hate Zoro, the sun sets, you still hate Zoro. 

But why? 

“Well, I understand your need for my company, I'm great. But I realised that I get the short end of the stick in this deal. Your company sucks.”

He grins smugly and leans against the same wall you're leaning on. “You can bet that nothing about me is short, Menace.”

The blush that flushes your cheeks is completely involuntary, and you blame it on the solo beer you had one hour ago. You don't want to think about the thing that's not short on Zoro right now, thank you very much. 

“You're forgetting your temper. Your temper’s short.”

“Yet no disbelief about what I'm implying… Interesting.”

You scoff. “I'm actually a ‘I'll believe it when I see it’ kind of gal, but in this case, Roronoa, I'll take your word for it.”

This has got to be the most civil conversation you've had in years, even if it's full of innuendo and little jabs. What's changing? 

“You don't have to.” The red cup freezes on the way to your lips for a moment before you catch your breath. “I mean, I've got you all to myself. I can show you what else is big.”

Is he joking? You turn your face slightly to the side so you can glare at him and that infuriating smirk that usually makes your blood boil with anger is now looking devastatingly striking. 

“Jeez, Menace, wipe that hungry look from your face. I'm talking about my collector’s edition swords.”

Shit.

“Fuck you, Zoro.” 

-*-

The next half-hour is spent in your bathroom, slapping cold water on your face and giving your reflection a freaking pep talk. What the hell is wrong with you today? It's fucking Zoro! Insufferable Zoro! Hateful Zoro! 

Protective Zoro… Hot Zoro… 

The hell! Enough! 

You splash more water on your face, open the door, and abruptly leave your bedroom, only to bump into your second chest of the night. Maybe you should watch where you're going. 

“What are you doing here?” You both say, at the exact same time. “I was in my bathroom.” 

Shit! Zoro's room is across from yours, so it's pretty plausible that he was there. Your eyes search his face, and he looks a bit frazzled. There are still droplets of water around the edges of his hair which makes you wonder if he was doing the same thing as you were. 

But that has to mean that he's been feeling this weird too. 

“What if I kissed you right now? Would you stop me?”

Fuck. 

“God, I can't stand the sight of you, just go away, Zoro!” You say, anger boiling in your veins again, except this time, the anger is directed at yourself. 

“I thought we might have one night of normalcy around here, since I saved your ass from Rob Lucci’s stinking paws twice today! But nooo!” Zoro bares his teeth your way, and this right here, this feeling of hatred you're used to. It feels right. It's normal. You crave it. 

“Leave my ass out of your mouth, Zoro! My ass is just fine as it is!”

Zoro takes a stride forward, trapping you between his body and your bedroom door. 

“Your ass needs some spanking, that's what it needs!” You blush and part your lips in surprise, but you can't hide the hunger in your eyes at his words. His hands slam against the door beside your face and you bite your lip to suppress a very embarrassing moan of need. “You think you can behave like a little brat with me?” Zoro lans forward, his lips brushing your earlobe, and you struggle to breathe. “I just want to fuck that atitude right out of you, Menace.”

You swear your knees turn to jelly. Either that, or the heat pooling in your abdomen has completely leaked through your panties and drained you weak. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You want him. You need him. But you're not going to be easy. 

“I'd like to see you try, asshole.” You sounded convincing in your head, but to your ears, your voice came out so sultry that you might as well have said: oh, please take me mighty Zoro. 

Whatever got you laid right now. 

A dark flash of hunger passes through Zoro's eyes just before he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs hard. You keep your mouth firmly closed because there's no way you're going to easily let him indulge in your wanton moans. But fuck it, that felt good. 

Another second is all it takes before he leans down and takes your lips in his. The kiss is everything but gentle. It's hard, bruising, demanding. Full of hunger and burning flames, consuming everything in its path. He tugs your hair, you dig your nails into his shoulders; he bites your lip, you bite his tongue. It's a battle of wits and wills, and there's no way in hell you're losing this. 

Zoro's hand feels the door until it finds the doorknob and he turns it. Your weight was supported by the door, so you find yourself falling backwards, until Zoro's big hands clasp your ass, lifting you effortlessly from the ground and avoiding your fall. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you turn your moan into a rough grunt before it embarrasses you, because Zoro was right. He's not short on anything and his not-short-anything is pressed against your core, throbbing. 

“Fuck.” You mutter, involuntarily as you bite Zoro's lower lip hard, and he enters your bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. 

“I told you it was big.”

“Fucking showoff.”

He slaps your ass hard, making you gasp. And damn, you want him to do it again. “Language, Menace. Behave.” With a primal grunt that travels straight into your cunt, he slams you against the door, making you wince. Then he sets you down as his hands begin to fumble with the zipper on your dress. But he's impatient and horny, so he just rips it apart. 

“Shit! Asshole, that was one of my favourite dresses.” You admonish him between pants. That was freaking hot. His lips glue themselves to your neck, and he takes a hard bite. 

“Shut up, I'll buy you another one.” Then he starts to remove the shreds of the dress from you. 

“I'd like to know where all this money came from, you broke bastard.” You huff and rip the buttons off his shirt as payback for the dress. 

“Watch it!” He grumbles. But then clothes start flying. His jeans come off, and so does your bra. He doesn't give a shit about the way he rips your panties, and you just yank his briefs out of the way as well. Fuck it. You really got the long and thick end of the stick. 

“That's not going to fit.” You mumble, eyes wide and chest heaving. 

“Afraid, Menace?” He gloats with a hint of pride, and you scoff at him. 

“As if.” And then you're all over each other again. Teeth clacking against each other, lips bruising, and nails scratching. It's primal and raw, and everything you could want or need at this moment. 

With a swift movement, Zoro lifts you up mid-kiss and sends you flying into the middle of the bed. Your body may be bouncing on the bed, but your heart is hammering away in your chest. 

“Get on all fours.” He commands as he opens drawers, looking for a condom. 

“There.” You point at the dresser, and he follows your directions. “And fuck you. I don't take your orders.” You growl. 

Zoro grabs a condom from the drawer and paces to you in all his naked glory. The unhinged smirk on his lips both sends a cold shiver down your spine and feeds the burning flame in your core. 

He kneels on the bed next to you and flips you over as if you weighed nothing, manhandling you into the position he wants. You let out a yelp as your face gets buried against the pillows. Then his hands grab your hips and pull your ass into the air, leaving you bare and exposed for him. 

“Ass up, Menace. I want to take a good look at you.”

A rush of heat courses through your body and flushes your cheeks as you use your elbows to try to rise into a less undignified position, but Zoro grabs your arms and pins them behind your back. Then he lays out a good slap on your buttcheek, and you cry out in surprise. 

“I'm going to spank the little brat out of you in no time. I've had it with your attitude.” He growls, leaning over your back, and you can already feel slick coating your thighs. But you'll be damned if you're going to lose this unspoken battle of wits. 

“Do your worst, asshole.”

Zoro chuckles low and lands another slap on the other side. He doesn't ease the sting, he just lets it burn on the skin, but this time you don't make another sound other than your heavy breathing. 

“Look at you, all wet for me already. Aren't you a needy little thing? Pretending you don't want me, and now, look at you.” Zoro places two fingers inside your slit, and they slide right in. It feels so good you just want to explode. 

You force your eyes closed as you bite down on the pillow, trying to stifle your moans. You're not going to give him the satisfaction. 

“I know you want me. I know you're loving this, Menace. Look at how well you take my fingers.” He inserts a third finger, and you shudder. A rippling cry threatens to escape you, but you clamp it down tight. 

“You like this, don't you? You're just being too fucking stubborn to admit. But I've got all night, Menace. I can play with you. And once I'm finished, you'll be as docile as a little bunny.”

Zoro strokes your clit and circles it languorously. You're so wet that the squelches your pussy makes are embarrassingly unholy. Can you come without moaning loudly? Can you contain yourself? 

“Oh, God, fuck!” Zoro's tongue feels like nothing else. It's hot and long, and it curves just right as it enters you at the same time as he pinches your swollen nub. You almost unravel just from that. 

“There's no God here, little Menace. It's all me.” He speaks to your cunt, and you can't help another shudder and groan. Fuck it, you're about to come, and you don't care if you're going to moan your heart out. 

“I'm… almost…”

A ragged breath parts your lips before you drown it with a heavy groan and a curse. Zoro stops. 

“What the hell, Zoro?”

He turns you onto your back with a rough shove and stares at you with the biggest fucking shit-eating grin you've ever seen. 

“I want to hear you beg for release.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I am.” Zoro bends your legs and places the tip of his cock at your entrance, teasing you, taunting you. God, you want him inside you so badly. “Is this what you want?”

“Shit, yes, Zoro, just put it in.” Banging your fists in frustration against the bed only makes him smirk harder. 

“Make. Me.” He mimics your words from before, and you grit your teeth. The fucking asshole. Then you free your legs from his hold, grab his shoulders, and pull him down so you can take his lips in a bruising kiss, yanking his hair in the process and hooking your legs around his waist. 

With a movement of your hand, you align his tip with your hole, but as you're about to push your body against his, he places his hands on your hips and stills you, still taking your tongue against his mouth until you back away, gasping for air. 

“Fuck, Zoro!” You say, frustrated, and just as you're about to let out another string of curses, he thrusts all the way in, bottoming out and stealing all the air from your lungs. 

Your head falls back in abandon, and the first wanton moan escapes you unwillingly as your cunt fights to stretch and accommodate his size. 

“Menace! What the fuck. That fucking pretty noise. I want to hear it again.” His voice rings low and clipped. He's breathing hard, and his digits bruise the flesh of your hips. He thrusts again, but you keep your lips sealed, even though it's the best feeling in the whole world and you've never felt this full. “Moan for me. Break apart, little Menace. I'm going to fucking ruin you.”

He thrusts again and again and again. His hands grope and squeeze, and then they abuse your nipples, pinching and flicking and bringing you near insanity. You're there. Right there. You just need another–... 

“No! Zoro! Shit!” Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes as he stops once again, right when you're on the verge of climax. 

“Beg.”

“Fuck off.”

Zoro leans you to the side and slaps your ass again, making you curl your toes. “Beg.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

A whimper, the smallest of noises, leaves your mouth as you squirm under his hold. He's all the way inside you, but he's not moving. And it's torture. 

“Please…” You let out without looking him in the eyes. 

“Please what, Menace? I can't hear you.” He pulls out and fills you again, slowly, so, so slowly. “Have you lost all the fight in you?” 

“Fuck me, Zoro! Fuck me hard. Make me come, I need to come, please!” A litany of prayers and pleas leave your lips, and Zoro's smirk is smug, but there's a hint of something in his eyes very similar to warmth that you don't quite want to acknowledge. 

“That's my good girl.” He pulls you higher, hooking his hands under your ass and lifting it so he can fuck you with the perfect angle to hit your G-spot. And fuck it if he doesn't get it right as he resumes his thrusts. Two hard thrusts are all it takes before you lose yourself. 

Your thighs clench around him as you grip the sheets hard. A mountain of pleasure releases its avalanche upon you, and you moan and mewl without care or bother. Fuck it, you can beg Zoro all night if he makes you feel this good. 

“That's it, pretty girl. Let it all out for me.” Zoro rambles and picks up his brutal pace, flipping you over and raising your ass in the air again. Your brain is too addled and hazed to comprehend what's going on, and the ease with which he manhandles you makes you dizzy. “I want to hear it again.” 

He grunts as he pounds relentlessly into you, bruising your cervix and slapping your aching ass again. 

“Zoro! Yes, harder!” You can feel sweat in the palms of Zoro's hand as he slides one up your back, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you toward him. His other hand finds your oversensitive clit, and he pinches, making you come again and again. It's a relentless torrent of pleasure that makes you cry out his name between pants and moans. 

You barely notice as Zoro clamps down his teeth against your shoulder and shudders into his own release, squeezing you against him. Your bodies slick with sweat and limp with exhaustion. 

As you fall forward, struggling to regain your breath, Zoro gets up to rid himself of the used condom and opens your mini fridge, bringing a water bottle with him. He hands it to you before lying down with a sigh. 

What the fuck just happened?

“That was a good fuck, Menace.” He admits with another shit-eating grin. Hell yes, it was. He hit spots you didn't even know were possible to hit. You felt pleasure like never before, and damn it all, you might  be addicted with just the first hit of the drug that's Roronoa Zoro. 

“Shit, Zoro. If I knew you were this damn good, we could've been doing this for a while.”

He chuckles, and you laugh. This might be the first time you both shared a real laugh since you were kids. 

“Are you up for round two?” He asks, and you glance down. Sure enough, his monstrous cock is already saluting you in all its glory. 

“Hell yeah. You did pay for my company, Roronoa.”

What changed? Maybe you, maybe him? You can't be quite sure. But maybe it's not quite hate you feel about him at this moment. Because hate burns, but what you two have melts. It's deeper than that. 

And this time around, Zoro takes time to soothe the bruised skin of your hips with a little caress. He kisses the red welts he left on your ass cheeks, and his thrusts are less bruising and demanding.

What changed? 

Your feelings. That's what it was. 

Fuck.

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