#then I'd have to have a final round between the two and then I'd have to wait to make the shorts until sunday

[mottysith]

Hi! I was wondering if you could make a part 2 of the Itrapped x GN!Reader x Chance, I'd really like to know how they'd react to seeing each other in the forsakened realm

Pairing: Chance x Reader x Itrapped Love triangle

Warnings: Angst, violence.

I hope you liked this! I wrote this with love... maybe.

When Chance at first noticed your presence they couldn't believe their eyes, out of everyone in this world you had to be forsakened? He would be very, very tense around you, making everyone notice that something happened between you two.

Your relationship with Chance would be awkwards at first, with Chance most of the time avoiding you like a champ. Maybe they will try to help you by stunning the killer, but thats it.

But don't get me wrong, Chance doesn't want you dying or suffering. Yet for his own sake just avoid Chance just as they avoid you. After all is better and way easier that way instead of trying to solve all the unresolved tension between you two.

The slight glances he gives you everytime they encounter you around the cabin, not hate or anything like that but a nostalgic fondness of your friendship. Or how you gulp everytime Chance strays too close to you.

The other survivors would really try to get you two together, not in a romantic way, but for you two to finally bond considering the unnecesary tension you and Chance cause around the cabin everytime you two cross paths.

If you ask for forgiveness Chance would actually forgive you and move on from that, since they know you weren't exactly on your right state of mind but drugged by Itrapped. Yet they won't tell you that, is better to just ignore that little fact and fault you more than blaming Itrapped for his actions, because deep down even if the gambler doesn't want to admit it, they still miss and love Itrapped deeply.

It is possible for you two to become friends again, but sadly it wouldn't end very well, because it would ignite feelings once more on your heart once more, faling over heels for the gambler once more. Even if you don't want it this time.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When Itrapped first saw you as a little suvivor in one of his rounds, he couldn't believe his eyes, he was even more than excited, he was fascinated. How smart of the spectre, Itrapped mentally thanked him.

Your relationship with Itrapped is totally horrible, a constant game of cat and mouse, except the mouse is given in an almost silver plate to the cat.

The spectre really seemed to have Itrapped's back, by giving you habilities that are useful with everyone else except him. Making you useless everytime you are against him.

Itrapped toys with you a lot, mostly killing your oh so lovely Chance right in front of you in rounds, festing on your horrified face when your silly crush was totally murdered by him. It feels like he is in power.

Itrapped mostly leaves you for LMS just to have some more few seconds around you, yet don't think he will let you alive for much. Itrapped loves to take his time murdering you, hearing your skin tear as blood slowly start to coat both your clothing, or the sound of your bones breaking being louder than your cries.

It is just so whismisical to him to do that to you, finally having you finally in his grasp like he do desired before. His love was never totally pure or truth, in fact it was only obsession. Of Itrapped truly loved he would never do that to you, and he fully knows that. Itrapped is aware that his love for you is obsession.

Though don't let him kill you easily, or he might get bored of you and stop putting you as a priority on his kill list. a win for you I suppose.

Don't try to plead with him, is useless. Itrapped knows way to well what he is doing. Your best strategy is to just run away from him, just like you did outside of this forsakened realm.

Itrapped accidentally forces you to team up with Chance for survival, due to Itrapped mostly leaving you two for last, to have the thrill of the chase.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Everytime you three encounter each other during rounds is traumatically horrible, with there being a lot of untold history between you three, history that ends being better being untold.

The unresolved feeling revolve in the air, making it real uncomfortable and awkward between you and Chance, and a feast for the betrayer.

The other survivors outside the love triangle know that something is up, yet they are unwilling to do something about Itrapped, only concentrating on you and Chance.

And considering how tense you or Chance get when asked about it, the other survivors prefer to not indulge too much into it.

Yeah... it's better if you just go no contact with both of them and go to therapy. Though in this realm that is sadly not possible.

Notes: I did this at my school break so I hope you liked this!

[sysig]

Coming in to play! (Patreon)

[thirrith]

You may remember that I planned to knit a fair isle vest with motifs replicated from a costume piece in the original 1978 All Creatures Great and Small... well, I finished it!!! And I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT IT!! The marled colours are so pretty!! (I held two strands of heavy lace weight lambswool together) And the fabric is so light and drapey!!! Ahhhh!!!

Here is the original vest it's based on. It's the vest worn by a side character called William Dalby and the shot is from episode 7 of season one. I didn't plan to make an exact replica so I took some creative liberties with my chart.

And here are some photos of the steek because I think it's really cool:

Some things I've learned from this project:

For armhole and neckline shaping, I actually don't have to do the extra k1 between the decrease and the steek stitches. When I'm knitting flat and decreasing next to the selvage I'd like to have an extra stitch to make picking up easier, but with the steek it's easy to pick up stitches either way. In fact, decreasing right next to the steek makes the decrease column more invisible in the final result.

I used shoulder shaping in the round technique developed by Feral Knitter. I used 3-needle bind off on the wrong side but it was incredibly fiddly. I dropped a stitch twice and had to use duplicate stitch to mend a few holes. I probably should've grafted the shoulder seams instead.

My tension was OK but I didn't give CC long enough floats in the beginning, which created very small and not very visible stitches in the first couple repeats of the chart.

CDD at the bottom of v-neck probably shouldn't be done in the first round right after picking up stitches. Needless to say I had to mend holes.

I'm glad I hand sew. I used back stitches to secure the steek (with a single strand of the same yarn so that the whole vest shrinks and grows at the same rate) (I only used 5 steek stitches because I was ready to fight god). When tacking down the cut steek, I used the felling stitch first but it was too bulky. The herringbone stitch (sewing) is more suitable and creates a flatter and more flexible hem, although the yarn ends will be poking out. I'm not too worried because although this lambswool is not as sticky as shetland wool it will still felt over time.

I was able to knit from memory after about two repeats. Lining up patterns while at the same time doing decrease shaping wasn't as difficult as I thought.

I don't know what possessed me to bind off the back neck with two colours, but it looks pretty nice from the wrong side…

Having knitted both I've discovered I still like plain ribbing better than corrugated ribbing, especially when the ribbing is less than 3cm wide.

[incognit0slut]

Hypothetically

Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x bau fem reader

Category: fluff/comfort

Warnings: marriage and baby talk, reader is insecure because she feels left out

A/n: This is my entry for the kid fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins! This was like a breath of fresh air from all the smut I’ve been writing

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as your question lingered in the air. Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly and patted his chest, his eyes drifting towards you. "Uh... what?"

"Hypothetically," you replied, the tap of your pen echoing against the round table between you. "It's like a pact. If we're both still single in the future, we get married to one another and, well, start a family together."

Spencer felt the clamminess of his palms as he set his mug down, trying to steady himself. He considered you as one of the closest people in his life, if not his best friend, and he was accustomed to your random questions, but this sudden topic of conversation seemed to strike a nerve.

"Where..." he began, wiping his palm along his pants. "...where is this coming from?"

You shrugged casually, the tapping of your pen momentarily ceasing. "Just a thought. I mean, we're both at that age where these things start to cross our minds, right?"

Spencer swallowed, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he muttered, but as he studied you, he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Your gaze flickered away for a moment before you sighed, slumping against your chair.

"I have a wedding coming up this weekend." Spencer frowned, not understanding what you were trying to say. You continued, "And another one next week, and guess what? Two of my cousins are getting married next month."

"What does that have to do with...?" His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

But you weren't finished. Somehow, the thoughts that had lingered in your mind for the past few days spilled out right then and there, in the middle of broad daylight when you were supposed to be focusing on the case you were working on.

"And a close friend I went to high school with just gave birth while another friend from college announced she's two months pregnant. And look at me," you exclaimed, your arms flying around. "No wedding. No pregnancy. Spencer, I don't even have a boyfriend, heck, I forgot what it's like to go out on a date!"

He watched as your brow furrowed into a frown, and although your demeanor was all over the place, he couldn't help but notice how you still managed to look pretty.

"Spence?" You asked, nudging his leg with your foot under the table. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by your voice. "Sorry," he replied. "I'm listening."

You gave him a skeptical look, but the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you leaned back in your chair.

"I just... I don't know, I feel like I'm left behind." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I'm happy for my friends and all, but sometimes it feels like everyone's moving forward but me. Like I'm stuck in this... this rut."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he knew how it felt to want something that seemed out of reach, but on the other hand, he felt like it wasn't his place to offer advice when he wasn't even sure what the future held for him.

"I get it," he finally said, trying to gather his thoughts. The least he could do was try to offer some comfort. "But just because you haven't reached those milestones yet doesn't mean you won't get there eventually."

"But what if it doesn't happen? What if I'm still all alone and nobody loves me when I'm gray and old?"

He frowned at you. "I'd still love you when you're gray and old."

"Platonically. You love me as much as you love JJ. Or Emily. Or Penny, or even Morgan." You leaned over the table. "I want to be loved passionately by someone who is head over heels for me, who can't imagine a life without me. I want to feel that kind of happiness."

His frown deepened. "I don't think you should find happiness in another person."

"You're missing the point," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying I want to depend on someone else for my happiness. But is it too much to ask for someone to share it with? To feel like I'm someone's everything and not just another friend in the group?"

His expression softened as he listened, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He remembered feeling the same thing once, or maybe more than once; he wasn't sure. He had lost count of the times he felt his life was falling short.

But he realized the more he thought about the why—why was he so different? why couldn't he find love?—the more he felt worthless, and he hated that. So what was the best thing he did to ignore those thoughts?

Bury himself in work, because to him, pushing those feelings aside was easier than confronting them. But now, as he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing his own reflection and your words hit him harder than he expected.

"No," he quietly agreed. "It's not too much to ask for."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm tired of waiting for life to happen to me." Your gaze slowly met his. "So I came up with a plan."

His throat felt dry as he recalled how this conversation started in the first place. "The... baby plan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Think about it. If we're both still single when we're..." You paused, furrowing your brow as you did a quick calculation. "Forty? Yeah, let's say we're both still single when we're forty, with no partners, or like, no friends with benefits?"

You shook your head.

“Just... with no one in our lives—we get married. You and me."

He blinked, trying to process your proposal. It was unexpected, to say the least, but there was a strange logic to it that he couldn't quite shake. The idea of marrying his best friend as a backup plan was both absurd and oddly comforting.

"But what about... love?" he asked cautiously. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

You paused, considering his question before responding. "I mean, I don't think it's impossible," you said, leaning back in your seat. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Marry your best friend'?"

His gaze lingered on you, his heart beating hard against his chest. "You're saying that we can fall in love?"

Your eyes met his, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Who knows?" you replied softly. "Stranger things have happened."

Spencer shouldn't entertain the possibility. After all, who knew what could happen in the future? It seemed like an absurd thought, but as he stared at you, it was hard not to imagine a life with you as his wife.

He imagined you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him with a radiant smile on your face. He pictured you both in the house you had just bought, dancing joyfully around the empty rooms as you unpacked boxes together.

Then thoughts of you being pregnant with his child—or maybe even children—filled his mind, and he envisioned a future where your kids would run around in the backyard with a pet dog trailing behind.

And then he considered the prospect of growing old with you, watching as your children eventually started families of their own while you found comfort in each other's company. All of these possibilities didn't seem so bad, because if anyone could understand him on a deep level, it was definitely you.

Maybe this crazy plan of yours wasn't so crazy after all.

"I... I guess it's not impossible," he finally admitted. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he added, "Hypothetically speaking."

"Of course," you replied with a smile. "Hypothetically speaking."

Suddenly feeling flustered by your gaze, Spencer looked away and focused on his coffee, bringing the mug to his lips. Then you heard laughter and footsteps drawing closer, and soon Derek and Emily entered the room. Their eyes immediately landed on the two of you, sitting closely together at the table.

"What are you children whispering about?" Derek's voice interrupted, his eyebrows raised curiously as he glanced between you.

You didn't miss a beat. “Spencer and I are having a baby together."

Spencer choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in shock as he coughed and sputtered. You quickly moved to pat his back.

"Well, we're gonna get married first, right, Spence?" you added with a grin, glancing at him expectantly.

Spencer finally managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shot you a sideways glance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Hypothetically."

Derek and Emily exchanged bemused glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Emily's curiosity seemed to win out as she lifted a hand, turning her attention back to you. "Care to explain?"

"We were discussing our backup plan."

"Backup plan?" Derek echoed. 

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In case neither of us finds the right person by the time we're, oh, I don't know, forty or so, we figured we'd marry each other and start a family."

Derek placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "And you chose Pretty Boy over me?"

"I'm not going to compete with all your lady friends," you shot back, rising from your seat. "Come on, Spence, let's grab some lunch and brainstorm baby names."

He stood up, giving you a pointed look.

"Or do you want to discuss how we'd make those babies in the future?"

"Well, I was thinking of Amelia if it's a girl..."

You grinned, linking your arm through his before guiding him towards the door. Derek and Emily observed the natural closeness between you two, how you were practically clinging to him and how he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Derek turned to Emily as you disappeared down the hallway. "Do you think they'd actually get married when they hit forty?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied confidently. "I give it a year until he's already down on one knee."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. With the way Spencer's gaze lingered on you with unmistakable affection, it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

[fatty-lit]

Fat All Over

Full, round, fat cheeks on a round face. So fun to press into with a kiss after telling her what a "good girl" she is.

Big soft double chin. Noticable no matter what angle she holds her head. Jawline no more. Creating one perfect continuum of soft roundness that is her face. Sinking my fingers into it when my hand is around her neck.

Fat fluffy arms. Round and soft and lacking even the suggestion that there might be tone under there. Her fingers are pudgy and even her shoulders are soft.

Tits aren't huge but you can tell they're fat. A couple handfulls each. Perfect to grab and suck and bite. Make her squirm. And they have a nice place to rest.

That belly. Soft and jiggly and so prominent. It's hard not to stare. Straining against waist bands and tops. Pressing into the counter when she's cooking herself another meal or mixing the dough for another batch of her delicious cookies. She says they're for me, but she wouldn't have this body if she didn't indulge in her own creations. Watching her and fantasizing about lifting up all that accumulated fat and plopping it on the counter like a trophy for what's been accomplished in this kitchen. Can't resist wrapping my arms around her, pulling down her waistband to set release that gut from its restraints, and gripping that lower roll with both hands while I tell her how gorgeous she is.

It's not just a pot belly, because the fat wraps around the torso so smootly and contiguously. Creating a continuous grippable softness. But when she turns around I re-discover those lucious backrolls: the place where the weight of her full-prominent front pulls down and creates creases and big, soft, fat handles to grip when she's bent over the bed.

Further down is the overwhelming exapanse of her fat, round, dimpled ass. Double my width; I could spend days exploring it, slapping it, biting it (because nibbles makes my big girl squirm and I love watching that fat body jiggle). When I lift her up, it's not enough to grab that ass, I need to get both my forearms underneath those massive mounds of fat and cellulite to get a proper lift. Making sure to stay in shape so I can keep lifting her as she inevitably grows.

Then those thighs. So soft and jiggly and smooth. Two more massive expanses that I live to worship. I only ever think about having them wrapped around me. Being swallowed by their cushion. I love taking my time slowly and softly kissing their inner regions. Teasing. Tickling until they close up and engulf my face, smothering me in fat. It's what I live for.

And then I finally reach the object of my desire. I pale mound of fat at the nexus of the creases of belly and thighs. A forbidden triangle of absolute pleasure. It takes some work to get down between those fat thighs, but the prize is worth it. Two full lips opening up to a big fat soft pussy. I'd be satisfied spending all my time with my face down there struggling to breath amongst all the overwhelming softness, but she knows just how to beg for it, so I arise from paradise, spread those massive quaking thighs and enter her while she writhes in pleasure.

It's no mystery how she got this way. She talks about food with the same longing, desperate tone that she talks about sex. She obediently follows every craving and it's done her wonders. You can see the progress through timelines of photos. Every year a rounder face. Every year a wider ass. Every year a softer tummy. She's done this all on her own. And I see no signs of her stopping. More luscious body to explore.

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ bet you wanna love me now ♡ 3

or: something's changed between you and lewis since the accident, something neither of you is willing to explicitly name. that doesn't mean you don't feel it, and that certainly doesn't mean it's not there. fem!engineer!reader x lewis hamilton (arranged/political marriage au) pt 1, pt 2

warnings: none, lil angst, a lil fluff, THIS IS IT MY FRIENDS THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR I FINALLY GOT OFF MY ASS AND WROTE THIS!! mwah mwah mwah love you all thank you for waiting!!

♡

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux, maxverstappen1, f1, scuderiaferrari, and 1,000,412 others

y/nhamilton back in the office!! thank you so much to everyone for all the sweet messages, i'll see you on the grid soon!! 💌

lewishamilton you take that teddy bear everywhere with you since i bought it (please tell me it's not my replacement) (♡ by author) └ y/nhamilton it's just an extension of you!!

yourbestfriend let it be known that lewishamilton texted me thirty times asking if you liked tea or coffee because he couldn't remember while you were recovering (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton I WAS WONDERING HOW HE KNEW THAT!! lewishamilton this is blasphemy why would you tell her

alexandrasaintmleux we've missed you my love!! ❤️ hugs and kisses from leo, charles, and i (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton i've missed you more!! (coffee after the race this weekend? please say yes) └ alexandrasaintmleux i'd never say no to that!! 💫

username37 OMG THE TEDDY BEAR IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER SEEN KILL ME NOW

username38 and the way lewis said he got it for her has me dead └ username39 he loves her your honor

username40 MAMA Y PAPA. MAMA Y PAPA.

username41 y/nhamilton did you name the teddy bear?! (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton his name is hammie ❤️ (as in hammertime)

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liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux, scuderiaferrari, username42, and 2,001,202 others

y/nhamilton went back to work -> took a break from work -> going back to work

lewishamilton when did you get that first picture of me? lewishamilton side note: you still owe me a hike (♡ by author) └ y/nhamilton 1. took it while you were laughing at my cooking skills (not cool) 2. NOT A CHANCE IN HELL KEEP DREAMING 💖

yourbestfriend JESUS IS THERE A CHANCE YOU'RE GETTING HOTTER AS YOU AGE (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton i mean its possible my husband's practically a dinosaur and look at him!! 💖

scuderiaferrari PLEASE COME BACK YOU TWO. PLEASE. I AM BEGGING YOU. (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton reporting for duty tommorow morning!! lewishamilton THIS WAS HER IDEA IT WAS NOT MINE └ y/nhamilton LEWIS!!

alexandrasaintmleux so beautiful you two xxx see you soon!! (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton my girl!! love you more than words can describe!! 💖

username42 okay who else is here after THAT thread on x went viral

username43 ME ME ME ME └ username44 i love these two but like... why is y/n proving the point rn she put pictures of her and lewis and got 2 mill likes IN LIKE TWO DAYS

username45 i mean y/n can't help it if she's likeable or famous she's her own person too lewis didn't get her degree for her lol

username46 i mean she CAN help it by not using him for clout maybe....

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[YOUTUBE: Lewis Hamilton Answers to the Internet]

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liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, olliebearman, lando, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, georgerussell63, and 2,009,999 others

y/nhamilton 11.10.25. thought we'd go for a round two, sans the contract. i love you for real and for forever, lewishamilton. not even death can part us. not after what it took to get here.

comments on this post have been limited.

♡

note: AND THAT'S THE END OF THE BET YOU WANNA LOVE ME NOW UNIVERSE WHY AM I SAD!! thank you thank you thank you for bearing with me while i cranked this one out, i know the timeline's a little fast but when you know you know!!! mwah from gracie, always and forever!!! taglist: @mxdi0, @ashley-k, @mayax2o07, @1-of-my-many-obsessions, @sunny44, @widow-cevans, @1-queenofpotatoes-1, @dramaticpiratellamas, @quinquinquincy, @ihaveitprinteddout, @i-love-sirius-black7, @nic0-hischier, @isagrace22

[yoomiwrites]

Not cute

Summary: Law isn't as mature, cold and stoic as seemed – no, he is cute. And awkward. Truly. ! GN reader ! You perspective.

Notes: I love Law. He my baby. But, since I know everything bout him (yes, I even know THAT one figurine), I also assume that he is not like, well, most people think he is. I mean, I could go on and explain everything, but I won't. I had shit and giggles while I wrote this in the night (couldn't sleep and all your love really motivated me). Even now, not being half asleep, I like it. So, I thought I'd already give you the winner of the poll! Enjoy!

Part two

♡

You had always thought Trafalgar Law was a mature man.

From the moment you joined the Heart Pirates, he had carried himself with an air of authority—commanding, sharp-witted, and composed. His knowledge of medicine and tactics made him a formidable captain, and his often-cold demeanor made it clear he didn’t tolerate foolishness. You respected him for that.

But then, you started noticing the cracks.

It was small things at first—like the way his lips twitched upward whenever Bepo did something particularly endearing, or how his fingers would absently toy with the coins he kept in his pocket. Then came the comics. You had stumbled upon them one evening when you went to grab a medical text from his cabin, only to find a neat stack of well-read books featuring over-the-top action scenes and exaggerated expressions.

And then there was the bread.

You had never seen a man react so viscerally to something so harmless. The way his expression soured, nose wrinkling in utter distaste, was so dramatically childish that it almost made you laugh out loud the first time you saw it.

Yes, Trafalgar Law was not just a man who had grown up too fast—he was still, in some ways, a child beneath it all.

And so, you decided to conjure those reactions more often.

It started subtly. You’d leave tiny, cute trinkets on his desk—once, a small plush bear you claimed was from Shachi and Penguin. Another time, you placed a particularly round and fluffy piece of bread on his plate at dinner, watching as he scowled, dramatically shoving it onto Bepo’s plate instead.

When you pointed out a particularly adorable sea otter floating by the ship one day, he had scoffed—but his gaze lingered a little too long, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out.

It became a quiet game between the two of you—though Law didn’t seem to realize it until much later.

One evening, while the crew was docked at a small island, you sat on the Polar Tang’s deck, flipping through a book when a shadow fell over you. Looking up, you found Law standing there, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a slight crease in his brow, a sure sign he had been thinking about something for far too long.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” he said flatly.

You blinked. “Doing what?”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed by your feigned innocence. “The comics. The plush. The damn bread.” His jaw tightened. “You like… that.”

You considered him for a moment, watching the way his ears tinged slightly pink, the way his fingers tapped a steady beat against his arm. Finally, you closed your book and stood, looking him in the eye.

“I do.”

His brows furrowed further. “Why?”

You gave a small shrug. “Because it’s you, Law. The real you.”

That caught him off guard. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He seemed completely thrown off by the simple honesty in your words, and before you knew it, his hand lifted, tugging his hat low over his face.

“…I have work to do,” he muttered, turning abruptly and striding away, shoulders stiff.

You were still watching the spot where Law had disappeared, trying to make sense of the strange flutter in your chest, when another voice cut through the quiet.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You turned to see Ikkaku standing beside you, arms crossed, lips curled in amusement.

You met her gaze evenly. “What do you mean?”

She jerked her chin toward the stairs Law had just fled down. “You like seeing him like that, don’t you?”

You didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

Ikkaku hummed knowingly. “Figured. It’s not every day you get to see Trafalgar Law flustered.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “He tries too hard to act composed. It’s nice seeing him be himself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ikkaku waved a hand dismissively. Then she tilted her head at you, eyes gleaming. “But have you ever noticed something else?”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Something else?”

She leaned in just a little. “It’s always you.”

You stared at her, uncomprehending. “What?”

Ikkaku grinned. “You’re always trying to get a reaction out of him—but have you noticed who he reacts to?”

Something about her tone made your stomach twist.

She patted your shoulder and walked off, leaving you standing there, silent.

And then you started thinking.

The way Law’s gaze always seemed to settle on you when you spoke, even when you were talking to someone else. The way he never scolded you the way he did Shachi or Penguin, even when you were obviously pushing his buttons. The way he had just reacted—not with irritation, not with exasperation, but with embarrassment.

Oh.

Oh no.

A slow, creeping realization settled over you, and for once, you weren’t sure how to handle it.

You weren’t blushing, of course. That would be ridiculous. But your heart was beating far too fast for comfort.

The captain, in love with you? Certainly not.

You couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like you to let something rattle you, but Ikkaku’s words kept circling in your mind. You turned on your side. Then onto your back. Then onto your other side. But no matter what, you couldn’t shake the thought.

The idea of Trafalgar Law—your captain—being in love with you was absurd. You weren’t the type to entertain ridiculous fantasies. And yet… the weight of his gaze, the way he had reacted earlier, the way he always reacted—

You exhaled sharply and sat up. This was useless.

A walk. A drink. Something to clear your head.

You slipped out of your quarters and padded down the silent hallways of the Polar Tang, making your way toward the kitchen. But when you pushed open the door, you weren’t alone.

Law stood by the counter, back to you, pouring himself a cup of tea. His hair was messier than usual, as if he had run his fingers through it too many times. His hoodie hung loosely off his frame, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

He turned at the sound of your steps, his tired eyes meeting yours.

“…You too?” he asked.

You nodded, stepping inside. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Law didn’t say anything as you walked over and grabbed a cup for yourself. The silence between you was surprisingly comfortable, the occasional clink of porcelain filling the air.

If you hadn’t been thinking so hard about him before, you would have left it at that. You would have let it be another quiet moment between the two of you.

But your mind was still tangled with Ikkaku’s words. In your mind, you battled against her words.

And maybe that’s why, without thinking, you muttered, “Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

A pause.

A sharp, quiet breath.

Then, in a voice so calm, so matter-of-fact that it took a moment to register—

“But I am.”

The world went still.

Your fingers tightened around your cup. You turned your head, slowly, as if movement itself might break the moment.

Law was staring at his tea, his expression unreadable, except for the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly.

You weren’t the type to let things shake you. But this?

This stunned you.

He realized it a second too late. His lips parted just slightly, as if to take it back—but the words had already been said. There was no erasing them now.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Law, the man who always had a plan, the strategist, the genius doctor—looked utterly lost. His fingers flexed against his cup, his shoulders stiff as if preparing for some inevitable response.

Finally, you set your tea down carefully, leveling him with a look. “…What?”

It was the best you could do.

Law exhaled sharply, tipping his hat forward to shield his face, as if that would somehow save him.

“…Forget it,” he muttered, turning toward the door.

Like hell.

Law tried to leave.

You didn’t let him.

The moment he turned, you stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve. He froze—not yanking away, not looking at you, just standing there, tension running through him like a live wire.

“Forget what?” you asked, your voice steady.

His fingers twitched. “…It doesn’t matter.”

You tightened your grip. “It does.”

Finally, slowly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you. His eyes were sharp, searching, but there was something else there—something hesitant, something uncertain.

You exhaled, forcing yourself to be honest. “I don’t know what I’m feeling for you,” you admitted. “But I know I don’t want to forget this. And I know that… I want to be with you.”

Law inhaled sharply through his nose, his lips parting slightly, his whole body locking up as if you had just struck him with Room.

He looked—

Embarrassed.

Genuinely, painfully embarrassed. And still, still, he tried to escape. He turned again, this time slower, as if hoping you wouldn’t stop him.

You refused to let him slip away.

So, you did something reckless.

“I don’t even know how to use the washing machine properly,” you blurted out.

Law froze mid-step.

“I was the one who turned all the boiler suits pink,” you added.

His head tilted just slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“And sometimes,” you continued, voice as calm as ever, “I have very intimate dreams about you.”

This time, Law nearly choked. His shoulders hunched, his ears instantly burning red beneath his hat. “What—”

“You’re not the only one embarrassed here,” you stated simply. “So don’t run away.”

For a moment, Law just stood there, hands clenched into fists, face half-hidden by his hat.

Then, slowly, he turned back to you.

Something in his expression had shifted. His gaze was still hesitant, still unsure, but there was something determined beneath it now. His fingers flexed at his sides before curling into loose fists.

And then—without a word—he stepped closer.

You stayed perfectly still as he reached for you, as his fingers hesitated just inches away before finally brushing against your cheek. It was uncertain, clumsy, like he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to do this.

But you didn’t pull away.

So he leaned in, just slightly. Just enough for his lips to press against yours.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t smooth.

It was awkward and hesitant and entirely, unmistakably him.

And when he pulled back, lips barely lingering against yours, he swallowed hard and muttered, “…You turned the boiler suits pink?”

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“…It’s my crew.”

“Not just your crew anymore.”

Law stared at you for a moment before exhaling sharply, tipping his hat forward to hide his face again.

“…Shambles,” he muttered.

And with that, he vanished—leaving you standing alone in the kitchen, lips still tingling, heart pounding, and very much not forgetting any of this.

PS. Yes, he is probably dying in his room. ♡

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

don't shut me out - jaime tartt x kent!reader

part 2 to - worlds worst brother

summary; you've been ignoring roy, jamie helps roy fix things

Roy'd been iced out since the argument between you and him. Or rather since him yelling at you.

Jamie had acted completely normal during training, both with the team and one on one, but would go silent if Roy so much as hinted about asking about you. Jamie was giving him nothing and it was killing him. You were worse, completely ignoring him. His calls, his texts, wouldn't answer the door if he knocked.

Everyone was on edge around Roy. He was acting like a cornered animal, barking at anyone who got too close. Even made Ted falter before approaching him.

He couldn't stand you just being... gone. Roy fucking loved you guys, his sisters and Phoebe came before everyone, he'd give up anything for you guys at the drop of the hat. He just got mad when he saw Jamie in your room, Jamie didn't deserve to be in your room. Roy knows first hand what it's like to be the footballer in some girls' room. He just couldn't handle his emotions about it.

But a full week of you ignoring him gave him all the perspective he needed. He could tolerate Jamie, at least that little prick would be too scared to do anything to hurt you, if not anything else at least the fear of repercussions.

So as Roy stood in the locker room, arms crossed as Beard explained something new they were going to try at training today, he was just thinking about what he was going to say to you when he could finally get ahold of you. The team starting to get up and head to the pitch is what brought him back down to Earth.

"Jaime, hang back," he said, uncrossing his arms. Jamie looked hesitant, but did it anyway. A few stragglers looked on, wondering what was happening between the two now. Surprisingly, even though you and Jamie had agreed to stop hiding your relationship, Jamie had kept it tight lipped still, until you'd been able to sort things out with your brother.

"Look, if this about football I'm all ears, if it's about anything else I'd rather go with the team," Jamie said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder where the lads had gone out. "We shouldn't bring this stuff here, y'know, ain't proper."

"And who's fault is that, prick?"

Jamie frowns. "This is why she didn't want to tell ya." Jamie starts to leave, and Roy feels his breath catch in his throat.

"No, wait, you're right, I'm sorry," Roy chokes on the words but gets them out anyway.

Jamie stops. Turns. And squints at Roy, as if trying to decide whether he believes him or not. "It was never just fooling around, you know. I was always serious abou' 'er." Jamie crosses his arms, "And she wouldn't have even been sneakin if she thought there was another option."

Roy has to look away, just seeing Jamie and knowing what you two get up to behind closed doors grosses him out. He remembers the hickeys across Jamie's chest and has to close his eyes. Roy grunts, unable to think of the right thing to say.

"She almost broke up with me you know, that night," Jamie says, voice quiet as if the memory alone hurt him, Roy's seen Jamie vulnerable before, but this was different. "Same night we said I love you for the first time she almost broke up with me, scared the fuckin' daylights out of me. I had to convince her that it was okay for us to be happy together and that you would come 'round to it." Jamie crosses his arms. "So fuckin' get around to it."

"I'm trying," Roy says, guilty and frustrated, "but she won't even talk to me."

"Yeah, I know," Jamie whispers, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been tellin' 'er to call ya back, but I don't want to push my luck, scared she'll kick me out of bed."

"Please, Jamie," Roy groans, "fuck! I can't fix it if I can't talk to her."

"I should really get out there..." Jamie looks over his shoulder at the door. "But maybe you overheard me tellin' Isaac that I made reservations at seven at her favourite restaurant."

Roy doesn't say anything, just nods, and Jamie finally heads out to training without looking back.

"Jamie," you whined, holding his hand over the console of his car. "What if the paps see us, this is a popular spot."

"I thought we were gunna come out with it, love." He pulls your hand up to his face to pepper sweet kisses along your knuckles. "We don't have to hide away anymore."

"What if Roy thinks I'm shoving our relationship in his face?"

"Let's just focus on us for tonight, hmm? Focus on me and you going on a little dinner date without having to drive half an hour just to be out of sight of our friends? Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is," you relent, "it's so good. I don't want to feel like a secret anymore."

"Neither do I," he says, placing one more dramatic kiss against your hand, "so let's go be normal and have supper, yeah?"

"Okay," you say, "I love you."

Jamie smiles so wide it takes the unease right out of your mind. "Fuck, love, I'll never get tired of hearin' you say that. I love you too."

And he gets out of the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you, holding your hand to help you out of it, and guides you to the door with a gentle hand on your lower back.

"Ah, Mr. Tartt, welcome. Your table is ready, and your guest has already arrived. Follow me please," the maître d said, guiding the two of you to a nice table in the back.

"Who's the guest?" you whisper, leaning more into Jamie's side.

His hand on your back remains there, comforting and supportive. "Don't be mad," is his only reply, and you see why when Roy is sitting at the table, fiddling awkwardly with the collar of his shirt, like it was too tight around his neck.

As Jamie pulls out your chair for you, you hesitate to sit down, looking between the two of them with a frown. Jamie just smiles reassuringly, taking your hand in his and leading you to take your seat.

"Please," Roy says before anyone else can speak. "Let's just talk. You promised me we'd have a sit down with your new boyfriend, and here we are."

"I don't want you to yell at me in public," you say, voice low and worried, and Roy's heart breaks all over again, just at the thought of you thinking of him like that.

"I won't yell," he promises, "I just want to apologize and talk to you both, okay?"

You nod, and don't say anything. Jamie's mouth forms an uncomfortable smile, and orders wine for the table when the waiter comes by the first time.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it." Roy shakes his, eyes cast downwards, afraid to see anymore sadness on your face. He's supposed to pummel anyone that hurts you, and he's the cause of it this time. "I love you, you have to know that by now. I was just, it caught me really off guard, yeah? And it hurt me to find him sneaking around and I couldn't handle is so I lashed out at you, but I didn't mean it. I could never be tired of you, ever. We're best friends, right? I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to be a prick about who you're dating. Especially when you're dating a prick."

You smile a little, but you also kick him under the table. He laughs, "and you're my little sister. You're supposed to drive me to the edge and date the worst guys."

"I'm right here," Jamie says, scoffing. "This apology to her is insulting to me."

"You'll be fine," you and Roy say at the time.

"Where is that wine?" Jamie asks, looking over his shoulder. "I'm bein' ganged up on."

"I love you, and I'm sorry."

"I love you too Roy," you say reaching across the table to grab his hand. He squeezes back, smiling. "And I love Jamie." Roy's smile drops. "And if you're not going to be okay with that then I don't know what to do."

"I'll be fine," Roy says, squeezing your hand again. "What matters is that he makes you happy, that's... that's all I care about."

You let go of Roy's hand, and slide over to grab Jamie's, the two of you sharing a dopey, love sick smile. "He does."

"But if I ever see another hickey on either of you I'll kill you both." Roy crosses his arms. "Please, don't ever shut me out like that again, if you're mad at me, yell at me. But don't just disappear, okay?" Roy's eyes held sadness, and you nod your head. "And you," he points to Jamie, "are never, ever allowed to talk about your sex life in any way, shape, or form in the locker room. I don't care if I'm in my office or fucking Canada, not a word."

"Not a word," Jamie says nodding his head thoughtfully, "no matter how fuckin' great of a sex life it is."

Roy's eye twitches. You hit Jamie in the arm.

[ckret2]

Bill hates it when people mention Euclydia. Everyone thinks it's because he doesn't want to hear his home's real name; it's actually the opposite.

Here, have some fic. The naming of Euclydia (among other things), the birth of the Nightmare Realm, and the Axolotl planting the seeds of a trillion-year-long plan to keep Bill from the death penalty.

This is the 🎉FINAL PART🎉 of a 9-part plot about the Axolotl in the aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. If you wanna read the others (or look at the art), here's one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight.

####

With the immediate crisis averted and the triangle, for the moment, not attempting to invade and/or demolish the multiverse, most of the god militia pulled back. A group remained stationed near the unstable border between dimensions to watch the triangle; but the less powerful gods could trickle back in to get back to their own work, first and foremost the construction workers doing emergency repairs to reformat and stabilize the neighboring dimensions.

The Axolotl—who, he suspected, would have been arrested himself for interfering if they weren't still focused on the triangle—wove through the crowd until he found the Time Giant; and then swam angrily up to her and demanded, "You used me as a distraction?"

She turned a stone-hard look on him. "That was the agreement."

"No! The agreement was that I'd try to talk him down! We'd only resort to distracting him if I couldn't get through to him!"

"Ya didn't get through to him." The Time Giant nodded at the Axolotl's burned side. "Look at you. Your leg's off."

He looked down at his missing foreleg. He'd been so distracted by the near end of the multiverse, he'd barely noticed the pain. "It's just a flesh wound," he insisted. "I'm an axolotl, it'll grow back!"

She shook her head.

"I would have gotten through to him! You saw me talk him down after an entire army threatened him!" the Axolotl said. "What if I had succeeded, and when we left my tank he found out you already wrote him off?! You never gave me a chance—"

"We did give you a chance," she said testily, "and I saw that you weren't gonna succeed." She hooked a thumb over her belt and tapped a finger on her time tape; the stylized symbol of the Time Giants glowed on the side, an unsubtle reminder that she knew what was coming far better than he did. "So I did my damn job."

So she'd sent him in already knowing that he would fail. The Axolotl was speechless for a second. "But—you couldn't know—I got so close, if I'd had just one more try to talk to him..."

"If I'd let you, I'm sure you woulda kept trying until the end of time," she said. "You seem like a good guy, Ax—but you can't save everyone." She pushed past him to get to work. "There's first aid near where Dimension 2 Gamma was. Get those burns looked at."

"They're fine."

She was wrong. He could save everyone. Because he wouldn't stop until he did.

####

"You're replacing it?" the triangle asked petulantly.

"I'm not talking to you," VENDOR said, turned away from the triangle. "You had your chance at diplomacy and you blew it." The crablike cop was holding up a clipboard with some paperwork for VENDOR to review, and didn't look pleased to have been temporarily reduced to a secretary.

"I'm just asking a question!"

"We're not speaking."

At the top of his lungs—which was, it turned out, very loud and very shrill—the triangle said in the direction of the reporters, "Oh wow, that's a crazy thing to say about Lady Morgenstern! And talk about obscene! She'd be furious if she could hear that—!"

"Shhhhh!" VENDOR rounded angrily on the triangle. "You don't even know who she is!"

"I know her name and I'm not afraid to use it," the triangle said. "You're really replacing my dimension?"

"If I can be left alone long enough to finish signing the authorization paperwork," VENDOR muttered. "The construction crew's already out here and waiting, so if you don't mind..."

"It just seems pretty tacky, replacing a universe just like that." The triangle spoke like dimension he was talking about was just a pawn to be used in a trivial argument about etiquette, rather than everyone and everything he'd ever known. "No memorial or anything? Yeesh."

"So hold a memorial for it," VENDOR said. "We don't have any choice, we have to repair all the fallen walls to keep reality stable. If you'd let us into your hovel to sweep up what's left of your old dimension, it could have at least been incorporated into the new one."

The triangle half reached for his hat, stopped himself, and curled his hand into a fist and thrust it down at his side. "Over my dead body," he said. "Which I'm pretty sure got incinerated! So that means never!"

"You're pretty sure?" VENDOR asked archly.

"It... I had more important stuff to take care of, okay? I'm a busy guy!"

"I'm sure," VENDOR said. "Well, it's too late for any cleanup operations anyway. Enjoy rotting away in your landfill."

"Wow, that's how you talk to a refugee from the biggest disaster ever?" The triangle laughed. "Hey, bet the muckrakers over there would love to hear how sympathetic you are to the—what'd you say I am—the 'last surviving soul from my dimension'—?"

"Let's find somewhere quieter to work," VENDOR said to the cop.

He looked relieved "You got it."

As VENDOR and THEIR impromptu secretary moved away from Dimension Zero, the triangle shouted after THEM, "Hey! How do I vote for Municipalitron!"

Volcanoes on several of VENDOR's planets erupted. THEY whipped around to face the triangle. "You don't! You aren't in my district!"

"Well, whose district am I in? This Morgenstern creep you keep bringing up?" the triangle asked. "How's voting work, do you toss a ballot across the border and I toss it back—?"

"You're not in anyone's district! If you were, you'd have been arrested already!"

The triangle stared in dumb shock. "Wait, so I don't get to vote for which of you idiots I have to deal with?" He hollered at VENDOR's retreating back, "That's fascism!"

Fuming, VENDOR passed the Axolotl muttering under THEIR breath about showing the triangle fascism; then stopped, abruptly turned to face him, and snapped, "You."

"You," the Axolotl agreed.

"You're an optimistic fool."

Yes, well, he knew that already. He'd been voted Most Adorably Idealistic in his law school yearbook for a reason. "I don't think I like you, either."

"No one does." THEIR camera whirred irritably as they looked the Axolotl up and down. "What are you doing here, anyway? I assumed you'd been sent to figure out who's liable for this whole mess—but no, you only handle afterlife cases, don't you? Who sent you?"

The Axolotl was silent.

Furiously, VENDOR said, "Are you serious?! We could have avoided half this mess if it weren't for you!"

"If it weren't for me, he'd have knocked down the multiverse before anyone realized he's setting the fires," the Axolotl snapped. "And if you had figured that much out, you'd have gotten your cops killed before anyone realized he's a god."

"The professionals here to handle the situation could have figured it out faster if you weren't derailing their investigations," VENDOR snarled. "And arguing about jurisdiction! We could have arrested that that little troublemaker the moment we figured out just what he's done—"

"Right after you arrested that kid with the spray can who didn't have anything to do with this?"

THEY growled in frustration. "Forget it! I hope you're happy with your genocidal pal over there—you seem about as concerned with public safety as he is." THEY stormed off, the cop with THEIR paperwork chasing after THEM.

The Axolotl watched VENDOR go; then turned to look ruefully toward Dimension Zero.

When the triangle caught his gaze, he formed a heart with his fingers over his top point and called out, gleefully singsong, "Genocide paaals!"

It wasn't exactly the reaction he'd hoped for.

####

The Axolotl was attempting to distract himself from scratching his itchy leg while it regrew by eavesdropping on the triangle. It seemed like the triangle was entertaining himself by darting around the border of Dimension Zero to start arguments with anybody he happened to recognize (except the Axolotl, whom he seemed to be trying to ignore outside of throwing a few odd quips at him.) At the moment, the triangle and the Time Giant were hollering at each other about her decision to reinforce the second dimensions by making them splinter into multiple timelines.

"So you're really willing to sacrifice zillions of lives by letting me incinerate all their parallel timelines?" The triangle laughed in disbelief. "And everyone here thinks I'm the killer! That's not a good look for you, buddy!"

She glanced up from a table full of paperwork to give him a totally neutral look. "You're the one who's willing to incinerate them. You could not do that."

"When I do it, it's justified."

The Axolotl was distracted from the argument as the storm cloud with the apoc agents gloomily blew past him. It was talking into a walkie-talkie as it went: "Yeah, I know he's a nut. But he's a nut that can't throw fireballs outside the border of his dimension, and I've got to finish this report before we can get outta here." He sighed at whatever the walkie-talkie said in response, and said, "Yeah. We'll rendezvous after I have his testimony." It let its tornado suck the walkie-talkie back in and drifted to the Time Giant. "Mind if I steal your conversation partner for a minute? ATTF business."

She grabbed a binder to try to shield her papers from the worst of the storm's rain. "Please. Take him."

"Thanks." It floated closer to Dimension Zero and raised its voice to bark, "Hey! Magister Mentium!"

The triangle looked over mistrustfully. "What?" As he'd talked to the Time Giant, he'd been playing with the fabric of reality, creating a circle out of raw... stuff. The Axolotl couldn't tell what the stuff was, but it looked like it was some sort of animal tissue, except far too uncannily homogeneous to be natural, disturbing in its uniformity. Like a slice of baloney. When he saw who'd called out to him, he rolled his eye and turned his attention to extruding the circle into a baloney cylinder. "Heeey, Officer Fun Police! Here to rain on my parade again?"

"Rain jokes aren't as funny as you think they are," it said. "No, this is Apocalyptic Threat Task Force business."

The triangle's eye narrowed. "What business? Are you gonna complain about my renovations again?"

"No. If you're not about to knock reality down, I don't care what you do anymore," the cloud said. "It's not my business to punish anybody for previous apocalypses, I just want to prevent future ones. Answer a few questions for our incident report and I'll be out of your life." There was an implicit and you'll be out of mine in its tone.

"All right," the triangle said dubiously. "Fffine. Then we're on the same side. I'm not fond of apocalypses either."

It paused like it wanted to argue with that claim, but said, "Good enough for me." It pulled out the soggy notepad it had been using all day, flipped through it, couldn't find a free page, and with a sigh pulled out a tape recorder instead. "You're from Dimension 2 Delta, right?"

"If you say so," the triangle said, lifting his hands in a shrug. "You guys are the ones who named my dimension."

"Uh-huh." Under its breath, the cloud muttered, "Not exactly a name, but... If you're from 2Δ, that makes you the only direct witness to how your universe was destroyed."

The triangle paused. "Mm."

"Can you explain what happened, exactly?" When the triangle didn't respond, the cloud added, "I'm not gonna arrest you for it. If we want to have a chance of stopping something like this from happening in the future, we need to know what happened here."

"Uhhh, yyyeah. Suuure," the triangle said.  It wasn't clear exactly how Dimension Zero rearranged, but the view of the eternal dance party simply vanished. There was no sign of the millions of shapes. The music had fallen near silent, just a constant distant low thumping noise, like your heartbeat in your ears; quiet enough that it couldn't drown out the whispery hiss leaking out of Dimension Zero. "It's not like I have anything to hide." Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like he wanted to hide it from his party prisoners, at least.

A bolt of lightning shot through the storm's recorder, turning it on. "You said you were an active participant in the end of the world, right?"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" He eyed the recorder suspiciously. "What is this, some trick to try to get a confession out of me?"

"Again, I'm not a cop. And you already confessed in front of a thousand reporters," the storm said. "If you were involved, you've got a different perspective than some guy ten superclusters away who only witnessed it, that's the only reason it matters."

"Oh," the triangle said. "Then—yeah, I was there for the whole thing. Start to finish."

"Great," the storm said gruffly. "Then could you explain in your own words what happened when the universe ended and, to the best of your knowledge, what caused it."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. The cause," the triangle said. "It... it was a—monster."

"I thought you said you—"

"It was a monster," the triangle said, more confidently now.

The cloud hesitated. "All right," it said. "Tell me what happened."

The triangle took a deep breath. "Okay. So. It uh—started with the third dimension."

"The monster came from the third dimension?"

"No, we were going to the third dimension. But we needed—"

The hissing background static exploded into a roar.

The void filled with the staticky screams of countless dead voices, pleading for mercy, pleading for it to stop. Death rattles, howls of agony, wails of terror. Most of the crowd of gods outside Dimension Zero fell silent, turning to stare at the disembodied hysterical shrieks.

One voice, strained with pain, rose above the cacophony, crackling, "Emergency services! We need medical assistance! Ambulances, or—please—I don't know what happened—it's like everyone's internal organs spontaneously ruptured, there's—there's hundreds of people here! Some of them are missing parts of their body, they just—disappeared! I'm hurt too, I don't know what it is—I can feel it inside me—"

A second voice replied, "We can't send assistance. Everyone's bleeding, the whole city's dying! We can't help you!"

Whatever the triangle said was lost beneath the roar. He didn't even seem to notice it. His eye was filled with static. The word "blood" was just barely audible. The word "mandibles."

Another voice, trying to sound professional, trying to sound authoritative, but trembling with fear, "This is an emergency announcement! This announcement will not repeat! The fire can transmit over radio waves and sound waves! Turn off all radios and TVs! Turn off all radios and TVs and destroy any wireless phones and pagers! Do NOT listen to the screams! Again, the fire is transmitting over radio waves, this message will not repeat, destroy your radio and warn your neighbors!"

The Axolotl saw images flash in the triangle's eye, too fast for him to mentally process one before another ten had gone by: a plane like infinitely thin glass with tiny delicate shapes painted on its surface shattering in a rolling wave; a bleeding body reduced to shards and then the shards reduced to chips and then chips reduced to dust; fire spitting and crackling into every crack split in existence; a light shaped like a triangle. (Was that the light that had blinded the Oracle's seer?)

Another voice gasping, "It's doing something to the gravity, I-I don't understand—we don't even have the equipment to read... it's like gravity's turned in a direction that doesn't exist! Does anyone know how to stop it?! Our universe is tearing ap—" and the words were cut off with a scream; and the scream was cut off with a sudden silence that was swallowed whole by the other voices.

The triangle had peeled open, shining golden panels stretching out like petals, his mandibles unhinged and curling around his eye in a ring of teeth, like a blooming carnivorous flower, sun-soaked and mesmerizing. God, he was so bright. He shot light in every direction like an explosion that never ended. Like a star trapped in the moment of supernova.

Another voice, shaking with rage, "Did you hear that, you monster?! I told you we weren't ready yet! Why didn't you listen?! I can see the destruction from here—the sky's on fire, everything is burning. How could this happen?! YOU killed them all—" and the rage cracked, revealing the fear and grief just barely hidden underneath, "Remember us. If you're the only one left, you have to remember us. Please—"

The static snapped off; the triangle's body snapped back into place; his eye snapped back into focus; "—and then they appointed me their god," he said cheerfully, "and here we are!"

And with only a couple more dying cries of pain and pleas for help, the voices fell back to their constant background whisper.

The storm cloud had started sleeting.

The Axolotl had stopped breathing. Just the sound of the carnage was enough to make him sick.

But the triangle sounded perfectly at ease—more than he had before he'd answered the cloud's question. "So is that all you needed?" He'd resumed playing with the cylinder of meat he'd been constructing—extruding it further, and then, dissatisfied with the results, collapsing it back into a circle.

His hands were trembling as he messed with the cylinder. There was a tightness around his eye.

"What..." The storm cloud let out a low rumble of thunder, ahem, "what... did you say about blood? I didn't catch it."

The triangle blinked blankly at the storm. "I didn't say anything about blood."

It paused.  "All right, then—what about the other voices? Who were they?"

"What voices?"

The storm stared at the triangle, baffled sunbeam fixed on him; then swung the sunbeam over to the Axolotl. "You heard—?"

So his eavesdropping had been noticed. He nodded. Oh, he heard, all right.

The triangle glanced between them. "I think you guys are hearing voices," he said. "The only one talking here is me."

He said it like he meant it. The Axolotl was sure he did. Had he not heard the voices?

"Never mind, forget it," the cloud said uneasily. "You said someone... Who appointed you their god?"

"Uhhh..." the triangle tilted to the side as he tried to think. "Pretty much all my people? Yeah. It was everyone!"

"Your people? From your universe?"

"Yup!"

"They didn't appoint you their god," the cloud said. "They're all dead."

The triangle scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. They're all in here with me!"

"You mean the mortals from the other universes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the triangle repeated, a little slower, warningly. "They're all from my universe."

For a moment, the cloud just stared at him, at a loss. It glanced again toward the Axolotl. The Axolotl had nothing to offer it.

"Is that everything?" The triangle tried to keep his voice peppy, but there was an edge of exhaustion that hadn't been there earlier. (Yeah, him and everyone else here.)

"I guess that wraps up that part of the questionnaire," the cloud muttered uneasily, trying to recover its professional tone. "Just a couple more questions. I need your name. For the report."

Dimension Zero's hissing background static rose again: "The murderer... The name of the murderer... is—"

"NOBODY ASKED YOU!" The triangle turned and chucked the cylinder he'd been working on into the Dream Realm. He grumbled under his breath, created another circle, and started stretching it out again.

The triangle could hear the voices. Then why hadn't he been able to hear them earlier? Unless he had been able to hear them—and he just... couldn't remember that he'd heard them?

Even if the Axolotl hadn't known about the incomparable trauma the triangle had survived/caused, it would be pretty obvious by now that something was going terribly wrong inside his head. Contradictory stories about his own reality, memories he refused to remember, facts he simply set aside as not relevant. Was he refusing to face them, or was he unable?

From their conversation in the Axolotl's tank, he thought the triangle understood more than he was willing to admit. But the Axolotl might be the only one who knew that.

And that was beginning to give the Axolotl an idea.

"Just—put me down as the Magister Mentium, okay?" the triangle told the cloud. "Everyone'll know who you're talking about."

"If you say so," said the cloud. "What was your universe's name?"

"Its name?" The triangle glanced up from his new cylinder and gave the cloud a perplexed look. "You asked already. You said it's Dimension 2 Delta."

"That's its serial number. Every dimension's assigned one at its Big Bang. But it's standard to let a dimension's own residents choose its name. It makes it more personal." The cloud sounded as though it had memorized this explanation. The Axolotl wondered how many times it had had to take statements from a destroyed dimension's grieving survivors. He hoped it usually got to give this spiel to witnesses of a narrowly averted apocalypse. "Typically the first explorers to leave their dimension get to name it; but the only person ever known to leave 2Δ is... you."

"Oh," he said. "Right."

"So, what did your people name your universe?"

He stared at the storm like it was stupid. "We called it... the universe?"

"Everyone calls their universe The Universe," the cloud said. "Followed by The World, The Dimension, Reality, and Home. They're all taken, come up with something else."

"Seriously? You're making me name my whole universe and now you're telling me how to name it?"

"They're not my rules," the cloud said. "If you don't have a native name, we usually name a dimension after the first known explorer to leave it. Was that you?"

The triangle was quiet for an uncomfortably long moment. His gaze twitched away; and for a moment the Axolotl thought he saw another image flash in his eye: a triangle floating in space, eerily serene, dead. His voice was small when he said, "No."

Surprised lightning quietly flashed in the storm's cloud. "Oh. Do you know the name of the first?"

"Of course I do. He's my..." He stopped himself. He said, too evenly, "His name is Euclid."

Obviously, the triangle wasn't speaking a language that can be spoken with human mouths or written with human symbols. "Euclid" is a stand-in word for an unpronounceable name; trying to say the name without the right anatomy—without even the right laws of physics and sound waves—would only mangle it.

But the rest of the multiverse didn't have the right physics or anatomy either. "Euclid," the cloud repeated, mangling it. The triangle winced. "Fine. How's Euclydia sound?"

"It sounds stupid," the triangle said.

"Well, it's your dimension. Do you have a better suggestion?"

"I..." The triangle floundered helplessly. "That... Okay hold on, I've had a very long..." He floundered again as he tried to figure exactly what kind of time span he'd been having a long one of.

"If you want me to come back later..." said the cloud, who very obviously did not want to have to come back later.

"I don't knowww, gimme a second," the triangle whined. "I've never thought about a universe having a name! It's—it's fine. Euclydia's fine."

"If you're sure—?"

"Of course I'm sure," the triangle snapped. "Euclydia. Yeah. Great. Fine."

"All right." The cloud zapped its tape recorder, turning it off. "Thanks for your time."

As it started to hover off, the triangle said, "Hold on! I answered your questions, you owe me some."

The eye of the storm reluctantly swung back toward the triangle. "What?"

He held up the shape he'd been extruding. "What do you call this... 3D circle thing?"

The sunbeam swept over it. "A cylinder?"

The triangle pointed toward VENDOR, who was out at the edge of the crowd answering the questions of some reporters who'd caught THEM attempting to slink away from the scene. "And what are the 3D circle things Coin Slot over there is hauling around?"

It glanced at VENDOR's stock of planets. "Spheres."

The triangle shook his cylinder. "Well, what am I doing wrong, then!"

"I don't know, math's not my thing," the cloud said. "Try rotating it."

The triangle waited until the cloud had moved on; then created another circle, extruded it again, but curled the extrusion around into a circle. He ended up with a shape like a donut. He said, quietly, "Oo-oo-ooh." He sounded impressed.

The Axolotl swam up alongside the storm cloud as it left. "So. Find out what you wanted to know?"

The cloud laughed ruefully.

That was what he thought. "Are the interviews you've been taking classified?"

"No, our reports are open to the public. Anyone can request copies. The database is a nightmare to navigate, though."

"Let me know who to contact for the records on this incident. Especially the witness testimonies."

"I take it you're also planning to go through that noise we just heard with a fine-tooth comb?"

"That's hardly the start of it."

If the Axolotl had been convinced of anything during all his conversations with the triangle today, it was that the triangle could barely begin to grasp just what it was he'd done to his dimension and all the dimensions around it—and he did a very poor job of communicating what he did grasp.

And if the Axolotl could prove that—if he could build a convincing argument that the triangle hadn't understood what he'd done, psychologically couldn't understand, that even now he only had the fuzziest comprehension of what he was involved in...

Someday, that triangle's sins would catch up to him. Someday, he would be in the hands of the gods of death and justice, and they would have to decide what fate his actions had earned. And when that day came, it would be the Axolotl's job to ensure that the triangle didn't end up damned or erased from existence.

As it was now, that triangle didn't stand a chance in the multiverse of being found innocent. But there was more than one way to avoid a "guilty" verdict.

By the time the triangle stood before a judge, the Axolotl would make sure that the right laws were in place for him to do what he wanted to do.

####

Where there had been swarms of firefighters earlier, now the scene swarmed with construction workers, working on the emergency genesis of over half a dozen replacement universes—carefully, so that the big bangs didn't do any further damage to an already unstable situation; but quickly. Already every destroyed one-dimensional universe had been replaced. Several half-burned dimensions had been supplanted with oddly-shaped undersized universes that met at the older universes' burned edges; jagged 1D dimensions sealed the gaps between these dimensions like a line of solder between two panes of stained glass.

By now, the flat planes and edges surrounded the zeroth dimension like the sleek shifting surfaces of an infinity-sided die; all except for one last missing wall in the middle of the damage.

Dimension 2 Delta. "Euclydia."

The construction workers were already setting up the scaffolding and equipment to set off another big bang.

As the Axolotl looked at the copious warning signs around the construction site—"DANGER! COSMIC EXPLOSIVES" "GENESIS IN PROGRESS"—the specialized equipment, the veritable army of workers, the mountain of papers the Time Giant had been reviewing earlier to ensure that everything was up to code and nothing would go wrong... he couldn't help but think of the triangle holding the seed of a big bang in his bare glowing hand, threatening to set it off right there. The Axolotl had known it was foolish, but seeing all the workers' preparations put just how reckless it was into perspective. Like a toddler holding a stick of TNT over a campfire.

He spotted the Time Giant among the workers, flickering back and forth across the scene as she tried to literally be multiple places at the same time. When she settled down for a moment over a worktable to double check a pile of blueprints and forms and calculations and even more paperwork, she caught sight of the Axolotl passing by, and tipped her chin up at him in greeting.

He paused, then nodded back to her. No hard feelings. He was just following his principles; and she was just doing her job. They'd each found their own way to help hold up the multiverse.

"Hey," she called out, and gestured for him to come over. As he did, she said, "Your leg's healing nicely."

He glanced down at it. His new toes were stubby, but at least they were back. "I don't like being uneven." He'd take a few more days on his tail. "I'll probably pay for it tomorrow, though." When he finally got home, he'd have to see if he could cancel his morning appointments.

"Reckon we'll all be feeling this tomorrow." She tilted her head toward Dimension Zero. "I've got a message for the god of DIY over there. I think you're the only one he likes—you mind carrying it over?"

####

It wasn't hard to find the triangle; he was leaning against the membrane around the zeroth dimension, moodily staring out at the third. He seemed to be gazing past all the gods, unfazed by their hubbub. The Axolotl tried to see what he was looking at, and didn't spot anything of note. As far as he could tell, the triangle might as well just be stargazing.

Along with the police tape and the ATTF barrier and the long-forgotten cordons to hold off the reporters, there was now an additional grid of orange cones set up blocking anyone from getting too close to the destroyed wall and the construction site. The Axolotl glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention before he slipped past the cones and swam up to the triangle.

When he approached, the triangle was muttering under his breath: "Stupid, now it sounds like an STD. I should've named it something cooler. Like... Triangletopia. Or the Party Plane. Or Margaritaville—I bet no one's ever used that one before..."

"Magister," the Axolotl said.

The triangle's eye snapped to him. "Hey, look at that! The pompous psycho is back! If you're even thinking about sticking me back in your 'office'—"

The Axolotl held up his forelegs appeasingly. "I'm not." He wasn't even crossing the threshold into the triangle's turf. "This is the last time I'll speak to you today."

"Finally, some good news," the triangle grumbled. "What do you w—ha! Ah-haha! I caught myself, that one didn't count."

The Axolotl decided not to count it. "The Time Giant wanted you to know they're about to set off the big bang where Dimension 2 Delta used to be. You probably don't want to be too close to the wall when it goes up."

The triangle's expression darkened; but he just said, "All right. Fine. Have fun. Not my problem! Just keep the construction noises down."

That was all he'd been sent to tell the triangle; but he added, "If you ever want to leave your dream realm, this is your last chance."

The triangle groaned. "This again? Listen, frills, I already told you I'm not interested! And you don't have the right to drag me out, this is my sovereign god territory—"

"I'm not threatening to," the Axolotl said gently. "I just—wanted to make sure you know. If you change your mind later, you physically won't be able to leave."

That gave the triangle pause. "I... don't see why not."

"For something to pass from one dimension to another, it needs a large enough hole to pass through," the Axolotl said. "For a person carrying the mass and energy of an entire universe to cross from one dimension to another... they need a hole the size of a universe. The missing wall where 2Δ was is the size your universe used to be. And now... it's the only exit big enough for you to pass through. Do you understand?"

The triangle stared at him silently. There was that hard, heavy look in his eye. It was awful to see. He did understand.

"If you don't come now..."

"We came up with a way to fit my entire universe into this one," the triangle said. "If I ever want to leave, we'll invent a way to get it back out."

"Your universe didn't fit in without incinerating it."

The triangle tapped the side of his hat with a finger; somewhere inside it was the speck that used to be his universe—the seed of a big bang. "It's travel-sized now. The next time will be easier."

For the first time since seeing the awful ruin of Dimension 2 Delta, the Axolotl forced himself to turn his fearful gaze chronologically forward. He squinted toward the hazy, far-flung future; and then he gave the triangle, in the present, a sorrowful look. "No, it won't," he said. "But I'll do what I can for you."

The triangle stared sullenly at him, unmoved by the offer. "I don't see what you're getting out of helping me. Everyone else is dying to send me to ghost jail or however things work around here."

"Isn't it enough to help you just because you exist and that makes you worth it?"

"If you ever, ever say something like that again, I'll kill you. I will find a way."

He wasn't particularly surprised. But that was truly what the Axolotl believed—and believed strongly enough to guide everything else he did. 

The things this triangle had done were too ghastly for even an ancient, experienced god to fully wrap his head around. Without exaggeration, he might have done the worst thing anyone anywhere in the multiverse had ever done.

But.

But if the Axolotl could prove that he, the worst person ever, was worth giving a second chance—that he could change, that he could show remorse for what he'd done, that he could be a force for good in the multiverse... then he would have proven that everyone, no matter what, was worth it.

The Axolotl had been voted Most Adorably Idealistic, but he'd never been called soft. His ideals were harder than diamond and sharper than obsidian. He hadn't decided to protect the triangle in spite of the impact that might have on the multiverse; he was protecting him because of the impact it could have. 

The Axolotl was a god of justice, of monsters, of second chances, and through his actions he could shape what justice meant throughout the multiverse as if he were sculpting clay; and he thought a small, sharp little equilateral triangle would make a perfect sculpting tool.

"In truth, I just don't believe in punishment. Not even for you." The Axolotl lay a forefoot on Dimension Zero's bubble. "But I don't see why you trust me." Because it was clear the triangle did. He'd trusted the Axolotl to judge the character of the other gods. He'd kept looking toward him like he was trying to gauge his own situation based on the Axolotl's reaction to it. He'd admitted the truth about the remains of his universe and his plans for it. It seemed like the Axolotl was the only one the triangle trusted in all this mess.

The triangle thought that over; then said, "You seem like a grade-A sucker."

He laughed. "I'll try to live up to your opinion of me." He had a guess what kind of people this triangle thought were suckers. The charitable; the caring. The people who didn't think that seeing the worth in everyone was a kind of illness.

"You should know, I intend to legally register my tank as a purgatory. I'll probably submit my application before the end of the week. If you claim it as your afterlife, you'll be transferred to my tank for holding while awaiting trial to decide your final afterlife."

"Ugh, now it all makes sense: you're starting a cult! I don't wanna join your cult, frills—I've got my own."

"But you do want to go straight to your lawyer's office if you're about to go on trial for your sins," the Axolotl said pointedly. "I don't intend to house anyone in my tank permanently. It will just be a transfer place for clients preparing for trial or figuring out where they want to go next—another afterlife, reincarnation... You're already technically dead; you can request at any time to come to my tank, and you'll be there."

"Sounds great for your other clients! But I'm not planning to go on trial and I don't want to be in an afterlife," the triangle said testily. "I'm pretty sure we've been over this!"

"I know you don't. I wish you didn't have to face it. But when you have no choice," the Axolotl said. "When you need it. When your time comes to burn like your people—" (the triangle flinched) "—call me. I'll offer you a second chance at any time."

"Low blow," the triangle muttered. "Don't put yourself out on my account. I'll be fine by myself."

"I'm sure." The Axolotl suspected he'd be putting himself out on the triangle's account for a long time. "What's your name? Your real name."

The background hiss of cosmic noise roared louder. The echoes of billions of erased ghosts said, "THE NAME OF THE MURDERER IS—"

With a flinch, the triangle cranked the distant dance music louder so it spilled cacophonously out of Dimension Zero again. It was too late, though. The Axolotl had heard the triangle's real name.

He pretended he hadn't. He waited.

The triangle didn't answer for a long moment. "You probably wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

"Maybe not." He'd seen how the triangle had winced hearing the cloud try to pronounce the name of some other shape. "I still want to know who you are."

He wrestled with his words; then finally gave up and asked his question. "What... is this place? We're not in the third dimension. When I—freed my dimension, I expected to go up; but we went... down. I didn't know there was a down." He confessed his ignorance in a near whisper, almost drowned out by his own music.

"You're in Dimension Zero." But that wasn't right. Dimension Zero was—should be—a point, and it's impossible to be "in" a point. A point simply is. "You are Dimension Zero."

The triangle said, "Then call me King Zero."

The Axolotl considered that. "Yes," he said. "I think that is your name."

Someone shouted, "Clear the way!" One worker at the construction site was looking directly at the Axolotl. "That means you! Unless you wanna be boiled frog legs!"

"I'm not a frog," the Axolotl muttered; but, he turned one last time to newly-crowned King Zero, said, "Call me," then hastily swam to the safe side of the orange cone barricade.

"Five, four, three..."

The Axolotl watched the triangle—and the triangle watched him—until the detonation. The big bang went off in a flash of light bright enough it would have incinerated anyone in the vicinity had it not been contained to a flat plane.

When the Axolotl looked away from the light, the afterimage of a triangle was burned into the center of his vision.

Dimension Zero was sealed off from the rest of reality—locking its king in for the next trillion years.

####

When the triangle said his name was "King Zero," of course, he wasn't speaking English. English wouldn't exist for a long time. The name King Zero is simply a convenient translation.

The English word "zero" comes from the French zéro. Zéro comes from Italian zefiro. Zefiro comes from Medieval Latin zephirum. And zephirum comes from the Arabic صِفْر—ṣifr.

####

Centuries ago, in the dream of a naive, trusting human, the human asked in Arabic, "What should I call you?" And King Zero responded, "Call me Ṣifr."

And years later, a dreaming human asked in Medieval Latin, "What should I call you, o muse of mathematics?" And of the two Latin words descended from his current Arabic nickname, Ṣifr responded with the one he thought was closer: "Call me Cifra."

A dreaming human asked in Old French, "What's your name?" And he replied, "My name's Cyffre."

Speaking Middle English, he told a dreaming human, "My name's Siphre."

And in Modern English, he told Edward Bishop Bishop, "The name's Cipher. But you can call me Bill."

In a year's time, and two years before his death from sleep deprivation, Edward would write Flatworld, a book about a 2D shape and his Muse journeying up to the highest dimensions; and also all the way down, below the spaces and planes and lines, to the self-absorbed King Zero, buried in the point-sized zeroth dimension, who thought a whole universe was contained inside him.

####

(It's FINISHED. 🎉🎉🎉

Hi y'all, if you just joined us for this Axolotl plot arc, usually this is a post-canon human Bill fic. I took a break from the main plot for one week to post a one-chapter flashback and then it was nine chapters. This bitch is 50k words. It's a novel unto itself.

Anyway if you only showed up for this story about the Ax, it only exists in service of a much longer story; so if you enjoyed this check out the rest of the fic. This is technically chapter 69 (lol). (If human Bill isn't usually your thing, I've been told that this is The Human Bill Fic For People Who Don't Like Human Bills because Bill is clearly very much a triangle unhappily trapped in a human body, rather than just chill with being human—so you might wanna give it a shot.)

And for the regulars who are already reading the whole fic: OH MY GOD IT'S FINALLY FINISHED, WE'RE FREE, WE CAN RETURN TO THE PRESENT. Listen I love the Ax and his bizarre but unbending morality, but guys. Guys. I miss Mabel so much.

Pre-warning that I may end up needing to skip a chapter or two before the end of the year, because work's piling a LOTTA extra work on me this month and I might just flat out not have time to edit & do art. I'm up at 3 a.m. editing & queueing this post and I was up til 3 a.m. another night doing the art because I HAVE NOT HAD TIME this week to do it any earlier. I did this because I love y'all.

No that's a lie, I did this because I want to FINISH this DANG ARC. That's my birthday gift to me.

Anyway lemme know what y'all think!! 💕)

[yasministration]

Valley-girl Charm - Bucky Barnes

Summary: In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice. Or should I say: 3 times Bucky did things for you, and the 1 time you did something for him. SMUT!!!

2.9k wc

Natasha knew body language better than anyone. Tony knew how to play the knight in shining armour better than any hero in the old tales they told.

So of course, they were the first ones to pick up on the little game you were playing. It had started the second you were back from under the ice, charming anyone you spoke to with your 1940's valley girl accent, using words you'd only hear in old television. Men fell at your feet the second words came out of your mouth, offering you anything you'd dream of, and it didn't have anything to do with the super-soldier serum in your system either. You politely declined every time, but eventually understood the kind of power you held.

The second charming method they noticed you had came from your gorgeous smile. The moment you looked up at someone through your long lashes and beamed widely, looking so innocent and kind, people were willing to give you the clothes off their back if you asked. Of course, you never accepted anything from complete strangers. The two Avengers had come to their conclusion that you were still accustoming yourself to the norms of the new world, unaware of your ability to bewitch people with your natural appeal, however it was not long before they were proven wrong.

They didn't know if it was the fact that you were so familiar to Bucky and Steve, a comfort amongst all things new that made them more vulnerable to do anything for you, or if it was just your flirt, but they were immediately intrigued after seeing your interactions with the soldiers. They'd seen the way you spoke to the two soldiers just after coming out of the ice and hadn't noticed anything unusual apart from the fact you'd essentially come out of a time machine. As the weeks, months passed, they knew your intentions.

It had started by witnessing a simple conversation between you and the two soldiers. "Well I'm all nerves about going to speak to Agent Fury about that last mission. He's going to get all bent and blow a fuse." The two soldiers stood either side of you turned to face you in such synchrony it had almost been comical. Bucky was the first to speak, "Don't worry doll, I can go speak to him if you'd like. You shouldn't be the one he chews out." "Anyway," Cuts in Steve "We were the ones who screwed up honey, not you." From across the kitchen, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, nudging Tony with her elbow lightly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Their eyes widened slightly at the wide smile sprawling itself on your face, peeking back and forth between the two men.

"Really? You boys don't have to do that just for me." Steve straightened his posture impossibly at your comment, but it was Bucky who beat him to the comment. "Honey, I'd do anything for a broad like you." You cocked your head to the side, a hand coming up to rest on his muscled bicep. "Why, thank you Sergeant. You dreamboats are too kind". Natasha's eyes trailed over to Tony when the three of you finally left, the two boys accompanying you seemingly wherever you wanted to go. "See, I didn't understand half of that conversation, but they are wrapped around her finger." Tony hummed "She's smarter than we thought."

The second time they witnessed it, they were convinced that you did it on purpose, their image of you quickly turning from innocent and naive to a femme fatale, manipulating men into thinking they're doing things for you because they want to. You'd all been hitting the bars, only missing Thor from the team. You had been occupying a large round booth, wedged between Bucky and Natasha, giggling with her about the man she found attractive sat at the bar, whilst the four men at the table shared stories. Natasha's eyes were quickly drawn to your hand as you placed it on Bucky's thigh, the man putting his own hand over yours almost instantly as he glanced down at you. You returned his look, grinning widely before turning back to your conversation with the tall red-head.

Natasha carried on with the conversation, pretending not to notice the intimate moment you'd shared with the soldier, but her jaw went slack nonetheless when Bucky leaned closer to you not two minutes later, whispering "You're drinking a margarita, right?" And rising from his seat when you nodded at him, humming in agreement. Bucky joined the group once more with two drinks in hand: one for him and one for you, smiling proudly when you cocked your head to the side, insisting he didn't have to. He only wrapped one muscled arm around your shoulders as a response, pulling you closer to him despite the humidity of the bar.

When you leant your head on Bucky's shoulder, stealing a glimpse up at him though, Natasha was no longer assured that those tricks up your sleeve were to get what you wanted. Perhaps you used them to get who you wanted. She sipped her drink instead of making a comment, afraid to scare you away with any questions when you'd only just begun getting close to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks during a girls' trip to the bathroom she'd bring up your relationship with him.

That girls' trip didn't end up being in a bathroom, but in a changing room, because next time something so significant had happened, the entire team was training together for the first time in a while, and Steve had declared that you were all doing a round robin. If you were still in the military, sure - you'd have moaned about it, throwing your head back in disappointment and hoping your supervisor hadn't seen you complain. But now, with the super-serum in your bloodstream? Well, you supposed you could be in a worst position, like Tony's, who didn't have any super-powers or spy training. With so many of you on the team, it'd take numerous matches for everyone to have their turn against each of their teammates, so after a quick warm-up, everyone had settled down on the mats of the martial arts training area to watch.

Soon later, everyone who was sat on the mats was trying to catch their breath as two team-mates sparred on the mats. Tony stood after Thor and Steve's match, adding another tally next to Thor's name on the big planning whiteboard before turning around with a wide smirk on his face. "Last match of the day." Bucky hopped up from next to you, sticking a hand out for you to take. Hesitantly, you took it, only for him to pull you up to your feet. "Us?" You asked, only for him to nod. "Well, I'm gonna let you have it, Barnes." You teased, tightening your ponytail. "Oh come on, might as well reach for the sky now, y/n."

"Steve, what the hell are they saying?" Called out Clint, leaning over to see the blonde man from across Natasha. "She's gonna hit him hard, and he says she should just give up now." Replied the man, taking another sip from his water. Tony picked up the whistle next to him, blowing into it, before scrambling back to watch with the others. The second the time started, Bucky faltered - how the hell was he supposed to hit you? But there was already a fist flying to his face which he barely dodged, instead swatting your wrist away from him.

You stared at him intensely from behind your fists, shielding your face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Come on Barnes!" Steve yelled from the sidelines. Bucky's face mirrored yours, his eyes laced with confusion, but he threw a fist anyhow, going for a body shot instead of your face. Nevertheless, you moved to the right, dodging his fist, and grabbing his arm as leverage to help you jump up. You threw your right leg over his shoulder, and behind his neck, swinging your other leg over his second shoulder, and crossing it over your right leg to trap his arm between your legs and over your torso. You tensed your quads as much as you could, hoping the triangle choke would work on him, but instead he used his metal arm to push your thigh over his head as much as he could. It was working, slowly but surely.

"Fuck" you muttered when he slipped his head in the gap between his shoulder and your thigh. You were now essentially hanging onto his arm, both legs over one shoulder. Before he could react, you flexed your core muscles, and sat up onto his shoulder. You released his arm, jumping off his shoulder so you landed behind him, and softly push-kicked him the back so he stumbled forward. As he did though, one hand reached behind him and grabbed your ankle, so you were dragged along with him. You slipped onto your back as he fell forward but Bucky was quicker, getting up instantly to straddle your hips. He leaned forward, above you, trying to get his arms around your neck to get you in a chokehold, but the second you giggled, he shot back up again.

"Sorry, that tickled." You insisted, hand coming to your neck to play the part better, a broad smile gracing your lips. Just as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, you reached out to grab both his hands, bucking your hips up and turning to the side to flip him over. You were on top of him in the blink of an eye, mimicking his movements as your arms snaked around his neck. You successfully put him in the same chokehold he had tried to put you in, but when you twisted your wrists, the blood supply to his face immediately cut off and you felt his hand tapping you twice on the shoulder. "You cheat." Was the first thing he said after his gasp for air, but you only shrugged, rolling off his chest. "I was only using sources available to me."

You giggled as you ran off to catch up to Natasha, already waiting for you by the doors to the changing room. "So..." She started, quite obviously. "So... What?" You echoed, looking up at her curiously, shimmying out of your shorts. You turn around so your back faces her as you struggle out of your sports bra, wrapping your towel around your sweaty body before spinning back around. "You and Bucky. This flirting has been going on for weeks. Do you like him, are you dating?" You laughed, cocking your head to the side. "You don't know?" She shook her head quickly, sitting down on a bench. On the other hand, you just opened one of the doors to the clean showers, calling out to her.

"Well, before the ice, me and Buck knew each other from the military, we got along well. The only problem was, he was my superior. I couldn't possibly make a pass at him and be known as the soldier who had the nerve to try and lay paws on her superior. But there was always something there..." At the lack of response, you stuck your head back out of the shower, to make sure Natasha was still there. "Natasha?" The spy looked at you with her mouth wide open in shock. "What!? And you never told me?" You shrugged, turning the water on. "Well I thought y'all knew."

Her silence told you enough about how much she really knew. As she muttered to herself on the other side of the door, you submerged yourself in the water, massaging shampoo into your hair, hearing flashes of "before the ice" and "he was your superior?" so you assumed she was still talking to you, even though you ignored most of what she said. You barely heard her goodbye and the sound of the changing room door opening and closing one more time, before the sound of water running was all you could hear.

"Y/n? Natasha let me in, she said you were done." You perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice, exclaiming "Here!" He approached the sound of your voice, stopping when he realised Natasha had deceived him. He stood in front of the dark wooden door, watching the steam dance in the space above your door. "Is it anything urgent?" The towel hanging from the door disappeared into the other side, and Bucky realised shaking his head wasn't enough of an answer because the door swung open to reveal you, soaking wet and completely naked with the exception of the small towel that barely covered your private parts. "Oh! Hey you!" You exclaimed, taken aback at his proximity, yet smiling all the while.

Bucky stood frozen in place, mouth ajar as he search for his words. "I'm sorry, I- I, you look beautiful." You giggled at his words, approaching his shirtless, freshly showered figure. His long hair was wet and skin was glistening, and he only wore a pair of jogger shorts to conceal himself. You have to admit, they weren't doing a great job and covering the growing tent in them. Your eyes trailed back up his body to meet his, smiling at him again. "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant?" Bucky's hands hesitantly rose to meet your hips. "I-No it's fine." Your hand met his and you dragged him with you three steps backwards, back into the shower you had just exited. You reached your arm behind him, locking the door once more.

"You're sure?" Bucky shook his head, pulling your hips flush against his as he slammed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You gasped as your towel started to unravel, but you didn't try to stop it, wrapping your arms around Bucky's shoulders instead. When he separated from you, opening his eyes, they immediately widened, and his bit his lip, poorly trying to suppress a moan. You pushed Bucky back gently, urging him to sit on the small wooden bench. He sat down, legs spreading to make space for you between them, but when you started lowering yourself onto your knees, he shook his head frantically, begging "No, no, none of that, doll. I just want you sweetheart."

The cold metal of his arm flush against your skin chilled you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his laps. He grunted, frantically pulling down his cotton shorts. You aided him at doing so, gasping when his cock sprung out, the absence of any underwear surprising you. You immediately took his dick in your hands, watching as Bucky's face scrunched up in pleasure. You guided him inside you, sitting down flat on his dick, but you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you did. You whined, beginning to drag yourself up and down his dick, gradually speeding up your movements. Bucky's hips met your frantically, until his pace was so quick you couldn't keep up. "Buck!" At your plead, he wrapped an arm around you, using his metal one to support both your weights on the wall, and he stood up, walking forward until your back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

You gasped at its feeling against your skin, jerking forward once more when Bucky's metal hand came up to play with your nipples as his speed increased once more. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, cussing loudly before biting his bottom lip in fear of being heard. His hand left your breasts, instead blinding searching for the shower handle. When he found it, he immediately pushed it upwards, the instant noise of water shooting out moderately covering the sounds of pleasure you made. Your wrapped your arms around his tighter, grinding your pussy onto his pelvis as he thrusted into you, your clit rubbing on the short hairs near the base of his dick.

You busied yourself pressing kisses on Bucky's neck, the water squelching between your bodies as you passionately moved against each other. "Fuck y/n" Bucky moaned, chasing your lips, panting against them once he met them in a deep kiss. Your hands cupped his face as you kissed, deepening it impossibly, and his metal hand went straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it as fast as he could. Your leg twitched and you didn't have time to warn him before you were cumming all over him. "Shit!" Bucky grunted, pulling out of you as he balanced you on the wall, his hand coming to jerk himself off quicker. You put your hand over his, legs still wrapped around his torso, teasing his sensitive tip as you stroked him up and down. With a deep shudder, white stripes of cum shot out of him, painting your belly white, only to be washed away with the shower's stream.

Bucky put you down gently, making sure you wouldn't slip before cupping your face with his large hands and bringing you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss. You pulled away from him, keeping him close as you peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, trying to pull away from you and saying,

"We should have done this about 80 years ago doll, don't you think?

[aastroopheel]

Plz do another Cook one you write him so well!!

I'd love to see an enemies to lovers kind of thing where reader hates him after they had hooked up at a party a year prior and Cook ghosted her immediately after. She ends up with an arsehole boyfriend that ends up abusing her at a party and Cook walks into the bathroom (in his usual party state, pissed drunk and all) and he finds her crying in the bathroom and sees whats done to her. He tries to act like he doesn't care much for her but deep down he feels protective of her. (And he probably would bash the bf lmao 🙈💗)

Thanks sm!!

Hey babes! Sorry for the wait I had exams to take care of lol (RELEASE ME) (i am finally free so HERE YOU GO)

GOOD PARTIES AND HARD WORDS

You two were definitely NOT on good terms. Actually, there were no terms between you two. He fucked you in some random bathroom at one of the many parties you attended and then…he left, like nothing, like it didn’t even happened. 

It was one night. One of those parties: bodies pressed tight, music so loud it made your ribs vibrate, and Cook, wild-eyed and charming in the way that made girls throw themselves at him like it meant something.

You weren’t that girl. Or at least, you told yourself that. But he caught your eye that night, really looked at you, not like everyone else did. Not like a game. Not like a conquest. It felt real, raw, messy. However, later you found out he was just high and horny. 

“That was mad, thanks!” and he left you there, panties still undone and your heart still going crazy, your reflection in the bathroom mirror  laughing at you.

You didn’t forget though. It wasn’t your first time, thank god, but you did have a crush on him and he just…he was Cook, what were you expecting?

Since then, your paths cross more than you’d like, mutual friends, shared parties, college events. Every time he walks in, your stomach knots. And he? He still acts like the same arrogant, messy boy. But every so often, he watches you  when he thinks you’re not looking. Like he wants to say something. Like he regrets it. 

He jokes about screwing girls that are his friends when you’re near. No one gets it, they think he’s talking about Effy or even Panda but you know, of course you do.

You took a long drag from your cigarette, the end glowing like the rage bubbling in your chest. The rooftop was cold, but not enough to numb what was clawing its way out of you.

“God, Cook is such a twat.”

Katie snorted. “What’d he do now?”

“What hasn’t he done?” you shot back, gesturing vaguely toward the group of teens sitting behind them where his laugh—loud, obnoxious, way too confident—filled the air. “Honestly, it’s impressive. Like, Olympic-level assholery.”

“You used to like him.”

You raised a brow. “Correction: I liked the idea of him. Briefly. Very briefly. Until he reminded me he’s emotionally unavailable with the maturity level of a feral cat.”

The red headed grinned. “So you’re totally over it?”

You laughed. “Oh, 100 percent. I’ve transcended. I'm on a whole new spiritual plane where Cook doesn’t exist, except when he opens his mouth and reminds me why birth control should be handed out with his name on it.” There was a pause. Then you added, more casually: “But really… imagine shagging someone and then pretending they don’t exist the next day. Like, bold of him to assume I’d be begging for round two.”

The straight twin gave you a look.

“What?” you said, shrugging. “I’m fine. I’m great. I just hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and hope he trips over his own ego someday. That’s all.” You crossed your arms and looked out toward where he was, loud as ever, like nothing could touch him.

And you told yourself again: You don’t care.

“Oi.”

You flinched before you even turned around, that voice had a way of cutting through any noise, somehow always managing to sound like it belonged and didn’t at the same time.

Cook stood a few feet behind you, bottle of something cheap in hand, expression unreadable. His usual swagger was there, chin tilted, eyes heavy-lidded, like he didn’t care. But his jaw was clenched.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Eavesdropping now?”

“Didn’t have to.” He took a sip. “You were basically narrating it to the whole roof.”

Katie suddenly found the sky fascinating and backed away with a mutter, “Gonna go find Effy…”

Now it was just you and him. Again.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said coolly. “It wasn’t about you. It was just… inspired by you.”

He chuckled once, dark and low. “Right. Just casual slander.”

You rolled your eyes again. It seems it was a natural reaction to his presence. “If it was slander, it wouldn’t be true.”

He stepped closer, not close enough to touch, but close enough that you could smell the smoke and whiskey on him. “You’re still pissed.”

“Nope,” you lied, arms crossed. “I’ve evolved, remember? Leveled up. Transcended.”

“You called me a twat,” he reminded you, like that somehow proved he cared.

“You are a twat,” you said, voice calm. “One who thinks ghosting someone after sleeping with them is just part of the Cook Experience™.”

He winced, just a flicker, but you saw it. “I thought—” He paused. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

You scoffed. “Wow. Did you rehearse that apology or is it just naturally that pathetic?”

That one hit. You watched it land. 

He looked away for a second, back toward the group, then at you again — a little quieter now. “Look, I’m not good at the whole... aftermath bit. I mess shit up, alright? You’re not the only one I’ve ghosted.”

“Oh, cool,” you snapped. “So it wasn’t personal? Just part of your routine? Great. Really makes me feel special.” You turned to walk off, adrenaline buzzing, but his voice caught you.

“It was personal.”

You froze.

He didn’t move, didn’t step closer — just stood there with his stupid messy hair and his cracked voice and the look of someone who actually gave a shit but didn’t know how to say it.

And that made you even angrier.

You laughed under your breath. “Too little, too late, Cook. Go back to your little crowd. Be loud. Be funny. Be forgettable.”

And with that, you walked away.

You weren’t supposed to be there. You’d told Katie at least five times that you were “definitely staying in tonight”, which was code for lying in bed with cold tea and ignoring texts. But then she showed up at your door with eyeliner, cheap wine, and that look that meant you weren’t winning the argument.

So now you were here, in someone’s too-warm kitchen with music pulsing through the walls and the overwhelming smell of weed and deodorant wafting in from the hallway.

You stood with your back to the fridge, one hand wrapped around a drink you didn’t really want, the other tugging absently at your sleeve. You were zoning out, not at anyone in particular, just… out, when someone bumped your arm.

“Shit- sorry,” came the voice, not aggressive, just surprised. You blinked, pulled yourself back to earth, and turned your head. He wasn’t familiar. Which was rare at these things.

Tall. Dark hair curling just slightly at the ends. A hoodie thrown over what might have once been a school uniform shirt. There was something soft about him, even in the dim kitchen light. The kind of guy who didn’t lean too close, who kept his hands visible like he was careful about taking up space.

He glanced at your cup. “Didn’t spill it, did I?”

You looked down. “Still intact.”

He grinned. “Then I’ve officially done better than last time I tried to pour myself a drink here.”

You gave a quiet laugh, despite yourself. He stuck his hand out. “Matt.”

You hesitated just long enough for him to notice, then shook it. Your name left your lips before you had time to overthink it.

“Nice to meet you, mystery fridge girl,” he said.

You snorted. “Terrible nickname.”

“I know. I panicked. I’m working on it.” There was a pause, but not the awkward kind. More like an exhale. You realized, distantly, that it had been a while since someone new made you feel… not on edge.

He didn’t ask what school you went to. He didn’t scan the room for someone hotter mid-conversation. He didn’t ask to go to a more private room. He asked about your hobbies, your friends, what drink was of your liking, the name of your pet and he even asked for your phone number!

“Alright, you better expect a call from me soon” he told you after his friend came to take him away from you and ‘your fridge’ as he called it. You smiled and he waved goodbye to you until he couldn’t see any more.

The first time Matt kissed you, it was raining.

You didn’t realize how starved you were for simple kindness until it came in the shape of someone like him.

Not the dramatic, rom-com kind, just a fine mist, the kind that made your hair stick to your forehead and your clothes dampen in patches. You were walking home after a late-night convenience store run, a plastic bag swinging between you, filled with biscuits and some terrible energy drink he swore by.

He stopped under the awning of a closed-off bakery and looked at you like it was obvious.

You tilted your head. “What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just… you look like someone I don’t want to stop looking at.”

And then he kissed you. Soft, unsure at first, like he was giving you a chance to back out. You didn’t. It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t adrenaline. It was warm.

And warm was what you needed.

He was warm every time after that. He never grabbed. Always asked. He noticed things, when you were too quiet, when you picked at your nails, when you looked at your phone and sighed like the weight of everything was sitting in your chest.

“You overthink too much,” he said one night, tracing circles on your thigh as you lay in his bed, your head tucked under his chin. “You can just be… with me.”

And maybe it was cliché. Maybe he’d said that before to someone else.

But that night, you let yourself believe it.

It started small.

The first time was when you wore that sheer black top to a party.

 You’d barely made it past the front door before Matt appeared at your side, his hand gentle on your arm, his voice light but firm.

“You going out dressed like that?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, not sweetly, not cruelly. Just… tightly. “Just thought we talked about that one. It’s a bit much, yeah?”

You looked down at yourself. It was nothing you hadn’t worn before. Nothing you hadn’t felt confident in. But suddenly, your skin prickled. You tugged your jacket tighter.

He kissed your cheek. “Didn’t mean to upset you. Just saying. You're better than needing to show off like that.”

You nodded. Even smiled.

He loved you. He just didn’t want other people to look.

The second time, it was about Cook.

Of course it was.

It was after another party, one where Cook had barely even spoken to you. Just nodded across the room, that cocky half-smirk on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t.

You hadn’t even acknowledged him.

But Matt saw.

And the second you stepped outside, his hand found yours — too tight.

“Still into that dickhead?” he asked.

You yanked your hand back, shocked. “What?”

“Cook,” he said, like the name tasted bitter. “You looked at him.”

“I didn’t-” You paused. “Matt, seriously?”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. He just sighed. “I just don’t want to be a joke to you.”

You stared at him. “You’re not.”

He nodded. Kissed your forehead. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

And you didn’t say anything after that.

But you stopped going to parties if you knew Cook would be there.

Just in case.

You still remembered how he could be soft.

Like when he rubbed your back while you cried after failing that exam. Or when he biked twenty minutes to your house because you texted, I just don’t want to be alone right now, and he was there before you’d even closed your phone.

It made the cold moments harder to hold against him. Because he could be warm. He was good. Most of the time.

And when he wasn’t…well, maybe you just said the wrong thing. Or looked at the wrong person. Or wore the wrong shirt. Or stayed quiet when he needed you loud. He didn’t hurt you. He just… made you feel like you could hurt him, if you weren’t careful. And that made you careful. All the time.

The vibration of your phone cuts through the quiet. You glance at the screen. It’s a message from Katie.

Party tonight at Nate’s. You’re coming, yeah?

You hesitate. You’re curled on the couch, legs tucked under you, your phone clutched tight. From the kitchen, Matt is rummaging through drawers, swearing under his breath about something insignificant, again.

Dunno. Might be staying in.

Katie replies in under ten seconds.

Babe. Don’t do this again.You haven’t been out in weeks.

Before you can type a reply, your screen lights up: Incoming call from Katie.

You answer in a whisper. “Hey.”

Her voice is all brightness at the surface, but there’s an edge underneath.  “Please don’t tell me Matt’s got you locked down again.”

“It’s not like that,” you say automatically. Too fast.

“Mmm,” she says. “Sure.” There’s a beat of silence. You pick at a loose thread on your hoodie sleeve.

“He just… doesn’t love parties. Says they’re full of idiots. And I went to the last one without him and he-” You stop. You’ve said too much.

Katie doesn’t miss a thing. “And he what?”

“Nothing. It was stupid.”

“Is he watching you right now?”

“No,” you sigh. From the kitchen, a cabinet slams. You flinch. “I just don’t want to fight tonight,” you add, softer now.

Katie’s voice softens too but it still cuts.  “You wouldn’t need to fight if you were with someone who actually respected you.” Silence. The heavy, guilty kind. “Look,” she says, gentler now, “you don’t have to drink. Or dance. Or even talk to anyone. Just come. Be around people who love you. Remember who you are.”

You swallow hard. Your eyes sting unexpectedly. “I don’t know if he’ll let me,” you whisper — and immediately hate yourself for the wording.  Let me.

Katie doesn’t say anything at first. But when she does, her voice is quiet, heavy. “That’s not love, babe. That’s a cage.” You can’t speak. You just sit there, staring at the floor. “I’ll send you the address,” she says. “I’ll be waiting outside. One hour.”

The call ends.

You stare at your screen. The text with the party info buzzes in seconds later. Your thumb hovers above it. The kitchen has gone silent. You hear Matt’s footsteps getting closer.

You lock the phone, shove it under a pillow, and paste on a smile. He walks in from the kitchen, two beers in hand. That familiar grin on his face, all charm, all ease,  but you can already feel it: the weight of his gaze scanning you like a spotlight.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks casually, settling beside you.

Your throat tightens. “Katie.”

He hums like the name itself is a warning.

“What’d she want?”

“Party invite,” you say, eyes flicking toward the muted TV.

He hands you a bottle, pops open his own with a hiss. “You told her no, right?” It’s not a question. Not really.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Of course.”

He leans in, kisses your temple, and murmurs, “Good girl.” The conversation’s over. But your heartbeat doesn’t calm. Not even close.

Later, he’s passed out next to you, one arm thrown across your ribs like a lock. His breath is heavy with beer. His weight anchors you to the bed. You lie there staring at the ceiling, chest tight, jaw locked. Then, carefully, you slide out from under his arm like you’re escaping something dangerous. Because you are.

He mumbles something. Your heart skips. But he rolls over and starts snoring.

You dress in silence. A loose t-shirt. Jeans. A flick of eyeliner, not too much. Just enough to feel a little more like yourself.

You check your phone.

Outside. I’ve got shots and zero judgment. —Katie

A small, shaky smile tugs at your mouth. You slip out the front door without a sound.

Nate’s place is alive when you arrive. Lights glowing behind the windows, music pulsing through the floor. The kind of night that swallows you whole.

Katie finds you in seconds. Arms wide. Grinning. “There you are,” she breathes, pulling you into a hug that squeezes the tension from your bones. “You look like shit. In a cute way.”

You laugh. And it feels strange  but good. Like remembering an old language.

The night unfolds around you like something you almost forgot existed. Drinks are pressed into your hand. Compliments. Faces you recognize. People who don’t ask you to apologize for existing.

You dance. You smile. You breathe. And for a little while,  maybe longer, you forget Matt even exists.

Until you see him.

He’s there, leaning against the hallway wall near the stairs. Arms crossed. Gaze fixed on you like you were never really out of his sight.

He doesn’t look angry. That’s worse. He looks calm.

“Hey,” he says, as if you just bumped into each other at the grocery store.

Your smile vanishes. “What are you doing here?”

He pushes off the wall, all smoothness. “Funny. Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Your pulse spikes. You turn to leave.

But he’s already at your side, fingers looping around your wrist — not bruising, not rough. Just… firm. Too firm.

“We need to talk.”

“Not here,” you whisper, eyes darting around. No one’s looking. No one sees or at least that’s what you think. 

There’s a pair of blue eyes on you. Always.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. The bathroom door creaks open. He pulls you in. Clicks the lock. The sound is deafening.

“What the hell, Matt?”

“You lied to me,” he says. Still calm. Still smiling. “You looked me in the face and said you weren’t going. And yet…”

“I just wanted to go out,” you say, breath shallow. “You were asleep.”

He laughs. But it’s empty. “I’m asleep for one hour and suddenly you’re off playing single. Dressed like that. Grinding on strangers.”

“I wasn’t- Matt, I didn’t do anything” You say as if you were defending yourself to the cops.

He steps closer. The air changes.

“You think I’m stupid?”

“No, I- please, I’m not-” your words choke you, his gaze is drowning you.

“You’re making me look like a fucking mug in front of everyone,” he hisses, heat rising in his voice now. “You want them thinking you’re available? You want someone else to take you home?”

“I never said that,” you plead, your voice cracking. “You’re twisting it-”

He takes another step. Your back hits the sink. Nowhere to go.

“You lied,” he growls. “You lied to me. And you let her poison your head. Katie’s been whispering shit for weeks.”

“Stop,” you whisper. You push at his chest but he doesn’t budge.

“You were mine,” he says. Voice trembling now, like he’s the one breaking. “And you threw it all away for one night.”

Then he lifts a hand, you flinch but the slap hits you anyway. You gasp as you touch your –now read and stinging— cheek. Your eyes burn. Your breath turns shallow. Panic coils in your chest.

He stares down at you, he is furious, jealous. You beg him but soon his hands are on you, he kisses you roughly as if he was apologising but for you he was just making it worse. You move your head away from his and he grabs it to kiss you again. He bites your lip so you open your mouth and he can get his tongue inside of it. 

“Stop it” he almost growls in your mouth. “Stop fucking crying!” he shouts and you sob, your hands clinging on his jumper. He looks at them and then at you and he sees a crying mess with her lip bleeding and her left cheek red and swollen. He sighs and steps back to give you some space. “Listen, I’m going to get a beer and then we’ll leave. You hear me?” You say nothing “I’ll take that as a yes. Fix your face before coming down, I don’t need any more attention to you” 

The door slams shut behind him, and the bathroom feels too small, too quiet. You slide to the cold tile floor, arms over your head, hands trembling.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper to yourself, the words heavy with salt and shame. Because how the fuck didn’t you see this coming? How many excuses had you made for him? How many times had you lied to your friends, to yourself,  pretending it wasn’t this bad?

Your cheek still stings. Your lip’s throbbing now, the metallic taste of blood sticking to your teeth. You breathe in too fast and it hitches, comes out as a sob.

A knock, no, more like a bang, hits the door a minute later. Then a twist of the handle. You freeze.

“Bathroom’s in use!” you shout from outside, annoyed. Another rattle. Then the sound of the lock being picked.

Your heart spikes — what if it’s Matt again?

But when the door swings open, it’s not him.

It’s Cook.

Half-drunk, eyes red, jacket hanging off one shoulder like it always is. A bottle in one hand. He stumbles slightly, then catches himself. His mouth opens with a cocky line already forming. 

Then he sees you. Everything changes. He goes still. Completely still.

His gaze drops to your face. The cheek. The blood on your lip. Your puffy eyes. The bottle in his hand lowers slowly. “What the fuck,” he mutters, voice suddenly raw.

You flinch. Try to wipe your face. Look away. “Get out,” you whisper. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

“You think I give a fuck what you want right now?” he snaps, not cruel, not angry, but furious in a different way. Furious for you. “What the hell happened?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

His eyes darken. “It was him, wasn’t it?” You don’t answer. But that’s answer enough. Cook’s jaw tightens. His fists ball. He looks like he might tear the walls down with his bare hands.

You close your eyes. “Please. Just… don’t. I can’t handle you being a dick on top of everything else.”

“I’m not gonna be a dick,” he says, and his voice has dropped again. This time softer. Wounded, almost. “Not to you. Not right now.” A long pause. Then, quieter: “I didn’t know he was like that.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, bitter. “Neither did I.”

Cook crouches slowly in front of you. Not touching. Not even reaching. Just… there.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

You laugh. Or maybe sob. It’s a broken sound either way. “Bit late for that, Cook.”

He looks at you then, really looks. And suddenly there’s nothing reckless in his eyes. No party-boy shine. Just something fierce. Protective.

“I didn’t mean to leave you like that,” he says. “That night. After the party. I should’ve called you. Texted. Anything.” You don’t say anything. You can’t trust yourself to. “Let me help now,” he says. “Please.”

That word hits harder than anything else: please. He’s still crouched in front of you, waiting. No rush. No pressure. Just there. Like he’s not moving unless you say so.

“Help me how?” you ask him, he is staring at you with dizzy eyes and a scowl on his face. “You’re not- you are too wasted to do something for me” 

He shakes his head, disagreeing with your words. “I can do what I’m best at” You look at him with a brow raised. “I can ruin his night” He has that devilish expression on his face as he moves his feet closer to yours, touching the front of your shoes with his dirty ones. You look there and then back at his face and somehow he does look like he means it. Like he wants to help you. “I’ll call Katie for you and then I’ll do my part of the plan” 

“What plan?” You watch him get up.

“I already told you” He rolls his eyes, steading himself on the wall. “I’m fucking ruining that motherfucker night” His words don’t really uh…form? or at least for you because he just mumbles them before getting out of the bathroom. 

Cook slams the bathroom door behind him, jaw tight, breath ragged. His fists are still shaking. He can feel your broken voice still echoing in his ears, feel the heat off your cheek like it’s burning into him instead.

That prick put his hands on you.

He charges down the stairs, pushing past a couple making out on the landing, past music and bodies and noise, all of it blurred, all of it background now.

He needs to find Katie.

It doesn’t take long. She’s near the kitchen, laughing at something some guy just said, drink in hand. But as soon as she sees Cook storming toward her, that laugh dies instantly.

“Where is he?” Cook growls.

“Where’s who?” Katie frowns, eyes scanning him.

“Matt.”

Her expression shifts. Sharp. Focused. “Why?”

Cook doesn’t answer right away, just runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to keep himself from exploding. Then he steps closer, so only she can hear.

“He hit her.”

Katie goes completely still. “What?” she says, voice quiet, deadly.

“In the bathroom,” Cook mutters, glancing back over his shoulder. “I found her on the fuckin’ floor, Katie. Cryin’. Cheek red, lip split. Said he slapped her. Tried- tried to force himself on her. She told him to stop and he didn’t listen.”

Katie’s jaw clenches so tight her teeth grind. The plastic cup in her hand cracks a little under the pressure of her grip. “Where is she now?” she says, already moving.

“Still in the bathroom. Locked it behind me. Didn’t want anyone to see her like that.”

Katie’s eyes flicker with something dangerous. Protective. Almost maternal. “I’ll go to her.” Cook nods once, and steps back.Then she grabs his arm. “And you?”

His voice is low, lethal. “Gonna find that cunt.”

Katie doesn’t try to stop him. She just looks at him, something fierce behind her eyes. “Don’t hold back.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, they part ways. Katie disappearing back up the stairs like a bullet, and Cook storming through the crowd, fists already clenching, gaze burning like a lit fuse, ready to find Matt. 

The door rattles gently. Your head jerks up.

“It’s me,” Katie’s voice says, soft through the wood. “It’s just me. Open up, babe.”

You hesitate. The idea of anyone seeing you like this, puffy eyes, trembling hands, lip bloodied, it feels unbearable.

But it’s Katie, your best friend. And you can’t hold this alone anymore.

You reach up, unlock the door. She pushes in carefully, slowly, like she’s afraid you’ll break if she moves too fast. Her eyes find your face, her breath catches. A hand flies to her mouth.

“Oh, my god…”

You look down. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Katie’s already on her knees beside you, wrapping her arms around you without hesitation. “No. Don’t. Don’t shrink like that. This isn’t on you.” You sob into her shoulder, and she holds tighter. “Cook told me,” she whispers. “He’s going after him.”

You lift your head, heart skipping. “No, no- he’ll- Matt’s gonna lose it, he-”

“Good,” Katie says, fierce. “Let him.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, hands framing your face so gently it makes your chest ache. “Listen to me. You’re not alone anymore. You hear me? You’re not.”

Cook’s heart is still thudding from the bathroom. He doesn’t care who sees him now. He barrels through the crowd, eyes locked on one thing: Matt.

Matt’s still by the kitchen, casually chatting like nothing happened. Drink in one hand, leaning back against the counter like he owns the place.

Cook wants to take a shot and then shoot that stupid cunt. But he won’t, he knows you wouldn’t want to see him in jail..again. He pushes past two people and grabs Matt’s shirt with both hands, slamming him hard against the cabinets. Bottles clatter. A girl nearby screams.

“The fuck did you just do?” Cook spits, nose inches from Matt’s.

Matt stumbles, confused, caught off guard. “What are you-?”

Cook doesn’t wait. He swings. The punch lands hard, right across Matt’s cheekbone. The same place he had slapped you. He crashes sideways into the counter, groaning. Beer spills, glass shatters. The music dips for a second, just long enough for people to realize something’s happening.

Matt tries to recover, shaking it off, but Cook’s already in his face again.

“You laid your fuckin’ hands on her?”

Matt coughs, tries to shove Cook off. “You don’t know what she-”

Cook shoves him again, harder this time. “She was crying on the floor! You think that makes you a man, yeah?”

Matt swings this time, a clumsy, panicked jab. It grazes Cook’s jaw, barely. But Cook sees red now. He lunges, grabs Matt’s hoodie, drives him back against the fridge.

“Touch her again and I’ll put you in the ground,” Cook hisses through gritted teeth Now people are really watching. Someone yells for Nate.

A pair of arms grab Cook from behind, pulling him off. “That’s enough, mate!”

Cook resists, trying to break free. “Let me go!” Matt slumps against the fridge, panting, face red and lip busted. He wipes his mouth, eyes darting nervously.

“She lied to me,” he mumbles. “She fucking… she fucking used me!”

Cook’s voice is deadly calm now. “Are you victimizing yourself right now?” Matt opens his mouth, but Cook just shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t. You’ve said enough.”

Cook yanks himself free from the arms holding him and turns toward the stairs, toward you  jaw tight, knuckles raw. Someone mutters, “Jesus, what the fuck happened?”

But Cook doesn’t look back.

“I’ll be right behind that door, oaky?” Katie smiles softly at you before she walks by Cook. “Behave yourself” Cook winks at her and closes the door softly .It’s quieter up here, away from the chaos of the party. Just the muffled thump of bass through the walls, far away now.

You sit down on the edge of the bed slowly. Not because you want to, but because your legs feel like they’re giving out. The ache in your cheek is sharp now. Your lip stings every time you move your mouth.

Cook stands near the door. Still. Like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to come any closer. You don’t look at him. You stare down at your hands, knotted together in your lap.

“I know you don’t like violence but he deserved it,” he says finally. His voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

You swallow, barely nodding. “I know.”

He runs a hand down his face, rough. “Listen, what he did….” That makes you look up. He catches it, shakes his head. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Silence.

“I thought you didn’t care about me anymore,” you say. It comes out smaller than you mean it to.

He huffs, almost a laugh but there's no humour in it. “Yeah, well. Thought ignoring you would make it easier.” He shrugs, still not moving. “Didn’t.”

You meet his eyes.

There’s something new there. Still wild. Still restless. But softer, somehow. Guilt around the edges.

He finally steps forward, slow like he’s walking up to a ledge. He crouches in front of you, hands on his knees, but doesn’t touch you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, low. “About before. That night. After.”

You nod, just a little, but it’s too much. You look away quickly. “I don’t know why I let it happen,” you whisper, voice tight. “Matt. All of it. I thought he loved me.”

Cook is quiet for a long moment.

“You’re not stupid, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says. “He’s just good at acting like a decent person until he’s not.”

Your throat clenches. “He told me no one else would want me. Not really.”

He exhales hard. “Then he’s a bigger fucking idiot than I thought.”

You manage a shaky breath.

“I would’ve wanted you,” he says, softer now. “I mean. I did. I do. Just didn’t know how to be… enough, I guess.”

You finally look at him. His face is all sharp edges and shadows. But his eyes, they’re open now. Unhidden.

He stands slowly, offering you a hand.

You hesitate.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he adds. “Just… let me get you out of here.”

You take his hand.

“Didn’t know you were this nice” you joked.

It’s warm. Solid. The first safe thing you’ve felt in weeks.

“It’s probably the vodka in me” He says back to you with his usual smirk.

He doesn’t let go.

I think this is the longest i've ever written lol.

Let me know what you think!!!

Bye bye queen

[nightsmarish]

Request: Barty x fem!animagus!reader who gets hurt but no one tells Barty so he has to ask the marauders where she is.

Barty crouch jr x fem!reader | 624 words

A/n: I was halfway through formatting this and the ASK DELTED ITSELF SO HERE WE ARE. I am SO sorry this took so long, this ask was in my inbox forever :[

Tw: reader is hurt, door slam, Peter, platypus

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

The door to the marauders dorm slams open so hard that Remus is convinced the door was about to fall off its hinges.

"Dear fucking merlin," Sirius gasps, practically throwing the magazine he was reading.

"Good afternoon," Barty stands in the doorway, hands on hips, clearly having ran the entire way here, “Any of you blokes know were my gal is? Seemed to have lost her."

"Perhaps she doesn't want to be found." Peter mumbles from his desk, Barty seems to ignore it.

"She has left, decided Durmstrang was better suited for her academic needs." Sirius crosses his arms, upset his night has been invaded by Barty of all people.

"Very funny, Black." Barty sneers at him, "If someone wants to tell me I'd be out of your hair and all of us would be happier."

As if on cue, James walks out of the bathroom, drying his curls from his shower.

"Have you checked if shes still in the infirmary?" Finally! Barty gets some information, thank you James!

Barty practically runs back out of the dorm. Slamming the door once again on his way out, Remus winces slightly.

With quick feet Barty makes it up an obnoxious flight of stairs and to the infirmary, heart beating a million miles a minute.

Just as he enters, he sees your book bag resting at the end of one of the beds.

"Dragă?" Barty rounds the corner of your privacy curtain, seeing if you have been left here to die. Although that's probably a tad dramatic to think.

"Barty!" You smile, tired from pain potions Madam Pomfrey gave you, "Lovely to see you, darling."

Barty's eyes dart all around your body. You have small scratches all over you, a large bruise on your head and one large cast on your left leg. His heart melts.

"What happened? Take a fall off the astronomy tower?" He chuckles, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

"No." You look as if it's a feat you didn't fall off the tower, "I was trying to make friends with the giant squid and he threw me out of the water. Luckily damage was reduced due to having transformed beforehand."

Ah, yes. You, Barty’s wonderful and adventures girlfriend who became an animagus in your second year. A platypus, obviously. A land and water animal that you have used to get into far more trouble than you should.

"How dare he hurt my darling, I'll see to having him removed from the lake immediately." He grins, slinging an arm around your shoulders with care and pulling you into his side, "What did you tell Poppy?”

"Just a tumble down a hill, hit some rocks." You shrug, "the boys were there to back up my story so it worked well."

"Good, good. Can't have you sent to Azkaban before you befriend the merfolk." Barty nods thoughtfully.

There's a soft silence for a few minutes. Soft breathing shared between the two of you, Barty gently scratching up and down your arm, avoiding any injuries.

"Sorry I didn't get to tell you what happened sooner." You all but whisper.

"Don't apologize. Next time send that mutt you call a friend to fetch me though, yeah?" Barty cackles, "Nearly gave me a heart attack when I couldn't find you. Finally had to enter the Gryffindor dorms and interrogate those idiots."

"He's not a mutt!" You laugh, slapping his leg, "But I will, sorry you had to commit such a heinous act. I'm sure your life will never be the same."

"It won't, but I will recover." He sighs theatrically.

"Excuse me, Mr. Crouch." Madame Pomfrey clears her throat, "I'm afraid visiting time is up. Please vacate the infirmary."

Surprisingly enough, Barty gets up with almost no argument, giving you a salacious wink as he is escorted out by Hogwarts favorite matron.

You wink back.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Couldddd you please write something with hiromi?? I'd appreciate itttt so muchh :)

At Law

Tags: Hiromi Higuruma x fem!Reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, academic rivals, enemies to lovers, hate fucking, unhinged!hiromi, depictions of violence including murder

Synopsis: Being the state’s district attorney was your dream job. After years of law school and hard work, you were finally appointed the job and allowed to represent the state in court. You singlehandedly decided which cases to prosecute and who to bring to justice. When your old academic rival, Hiromi, shows up as a defense attorney in court one evening, you know he’s going to give you a hard trial… and a hard fuck.

An: Anything for you nepobaby :)) Hope you enjoy this. I swear I'm going to make these shorter every time, but then, I start writing and literally can't stop.

You two have been chasing each other for the longest time.

It started in law school. You don't exactly remember how it happened, but slowly over time, you and Hiromi began playing your little academic race.

Both of you were brilliant, quick, and determined. Honestly, you two were like a professor's dream to have.

You found yourself studying longer, committing to all-nighters just to read over several codes of law and past cases in the court. All of it just to score a little bit higher than him on a test.

But dammit, he was faster than you when answering questions the professor proposes. His photographic memory serves him well as he's able to distinctly remember what code a law comes from and where the code is at in the Code of Federal Regulations.

Don't even get me started on how mock trials went. The professor would actually have to stop pairing you two against each other because it would become so toxic and brutal between the two.

As law school progressed, the workload just got worse. The school expected you to complete assignments, study for the bar, and take on unpaid internships. You were a slave for your degree.

Hiromi wasn't immune to those types of pressures either, and as much as he hated to admit it, study partners help retain information better. It would help effectively consume the source material in half the time. Unfortunately, the rest of his peers were just so beneath him...

Well, besides you.

All-nighters weren't lonely anymore. You and Hiromi would drink enough caffeine to kill an elephant and go through weeks worth of content in a night.

"You know... the release of endorphins can help concentration and reduce stress, thus helping students study." Hiromi said one early morning.

It was around four a.m, and you two were covering the petty crimes section. To say it was incredibly boring was an understatement. Students like you and Hiromi would never represent or prosecute clients in petty crimes. You two were destined for so much more.

"What are you suggesting, Hiro?" You ask before a small yawn escapes your mouth. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

"I'm suggesting that we help each other by taking a quick break." He responds as he shoves the book away from your lap. Your surprised eyes look up at his tired ones, and he cups your cheeks before he leans down to kiss you.

You would walk into class sore the next day. As soon as the adrenaline from one round wore off, you two were gunning for the next.

Your study sessions continued on and so did your competitiveness.

When you scored one point higher than him on the bar, he hate fucked you until morning.

Then, he made it his mission to surpass you everywhere else too. Recruiters and attorneys personally from different law firms were ringing Hiromi's phone constantly.

You genuinely believed that he would take the calls on speakerphone just to fucking spite you. You could hear the lawyers on the phone praise him so highly, practically begging for him to come practice at their firm.

Of course, you were getting some recruitment opportunities too, but it was still somehow harder for women to find jobs in the criminal justice field than it was for men. You also hadn't been selling yourself to these firms as much as he was because you had your mind set on working for the state. You wanted to be a prosecutor for the district attorney.

The icing on the cake was when you two were having one of your "study breaks" (aka Hiromi had you bent over your bed, and he was delivering the deepest, most toe curling backshots known to man), and he took a phone call from the district attorney's office.

His hand covered your mouth as he continued to thrust roughly into you while the man on the phone offered Hiromi a job.

"Hm? Oh, thank you for the opportunity." He graciously spoke over the phone as he was absolutely bullying your insides. Your stomach coiled from anger and arousal. You fucking hated him so much. "I'm weighing out all of my options now, but I'll have an answer for you by the end of the week, sir."

After more pleasantries, he hung up the phone and bent over to where he could whisper in your hear. "Hear that, little dove? I'm getting job opportunities from the state while you're under me getting ruined."

"You know, I'll probably be too busy from here on out to play this childish games with you." Thrust. "That'll be too bad, won't it?" Thrust. "Can't say I'll miss you though." Thrust. "Maybe this pretty cunt, but that'll probably be it." Thrust. "Better make this last one count, shouldn't we?" Thrust.

Oh, and he made good on his word. Your entire body ached after he made you finish for the nth time that evening. "I'll see you around, little dove." He whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek and leaving your dorm.

He made good on his word about that too. He never returned to your dorm. Sure, you two were graduating in two days, but some small part of you thought he'd might come over for a celebration.

No, he left you behind. He left you behind. You lost.

The anger burned hot for a few months as you gathered barrings after law school, especially when you'd see his name in the papers.

Defense Attorney Higuruma gets a non-guilty verdict for alleged drug trafficker!

Higuruma sways jury in closing argument, providing the most gut-wrenching speech!

Higuruma, Higuruma, Higuruma.

He was a fucking sensation in the criminal justice field, and his name left a sour taste in your mouth.

The anger only started to subside once you landed your dream job after a long internship. You were finally a prosecutor in a major circuit court in the crimes division.

Hiromi's name finally fled from your brain as you started to flood the newspapers.

Prosecutor helps put away notorious serial killer for life.

Cartel drug lord behind bars after district attorney helps deliver a guilty verdict for over 32 charges.

You finally felt like you hadn't been left behind. You were living the life you wanted to live ever since you were little. Did you imagine you'd be married by now? Yeah, sure. You just... hadn't met the right one yet.

Dating was hard while maintaining a professional career. You had to be extremely choosey for one. It would be scandalous to see a prosecutor dating someone with a criminal record.

And the men were sweet, don't get me wrong. They'd take you on nice dates, write you pitiful love letters, and treat you like a princess... They were all so collectively boring, especially in bed.

You'd tell them! You'd give them incredibly detailed instruction to be rough and mean to you, but they'd always laugh and make some excuse for not wanting to hurt you. Ugh.

Maybe you were ruined by Hiromi... because the only thing that got you off nowadays was the thought of him whispering hateful words into your ear while pounding himself into you with little concern or remorse.

Slowly, the gifts would start appearing.

A bouquet of white roses sitting on your desk. Do you miss me, LD?

You thought it was a simple mistake or a sick prank from one of the criminals you help lock away. You would quietly dispose of the gifts until the slowly became more alarming.

Miss your sweet sounds, LD. An audio recording of you moaning on a tape recorder played.

Who are you trying to look nice for, LD? None of those men could treat you like I did. Pictures of you going out on a date.

I'll take care of them for you. Don't worry your pretty little head, LD. A dead dove.

This was enough to get a harassment and stalking charge, but you didn't want to concern the local police. For one, you knew how lousy the police were when it came to crimes like this from working alongside them. They were honestly an embarrassment. For two, you didn't want this getting out to the public because then copy cats would start up.

You tried investigating on your own, but you came up to a dead end every time. The way this person called you LD made your head spin. That's not even your initials, but the gifts were certainly intended for you.

The only refuge for you was when you were in a court room. You felt safe and protected. A stalker of this degree wouldn't be ballsy enough to confront you in a courtroom while you're surrounded by police and bailiffs constantly.

Your refuge was short-lived by catching a glimpse of a familiar face in court one evening.

He looked as handsome as he did in law school. Hiromi's tired eyes met yours, and he almost immediately cracked a smile as he approached you during recess.

"Well look at you, dove." He smiled as he looked down at you. Hiromi's dark hair laid messily on the top of his head, and he was wearing a full business suit that framed his body nicely. "I see the district attorney's office settled for the second best option after I turned them down. Good for them."

He was still as arrogant and competitive as ever, making your heart flutter like it did back in law school. "Very funny, Hiro." You roll your eyes as you stand to look up at him.

"It's all harmless jokes. I promise. I'm proud of you, really." He assures as his eyes wander your body for just a moment.

You're not use to his praise. Normally, you're not the type to enjoy it, but hearing those words made you clench around nothing as your stomach swirled with butterflies.

"Thanks... I've heard good things about you as well.." You murmur quietly, suddenly losing all your nerve. "So, are you representing someone?"

"I am. I didn't just come here to watch you for fun. Though, I would've had I known you were such a big shot." He nudges your arm gently, causing you to laugh softly. "I'm representing a young man charged with murder. I'm sure you heard about it. Big news all over the television."

"Who was the victim?" You ask as you flip through your case files. If this was a first setting, surely you wouldn't go to trial today, but the thought of going to trial against Hiromi made your heart pound with excitement. Not many lawyers gave you too much trouble during court, but Hiromi... he would be a good match.

"They can't identify the victim. Male, John Doe, early twenties. That's all the information the cops have." He explains, and you start skimming through the case file quickly. It's astonishing that the police made an arrest when there was hardly a body to work from.

"Huh." You muse quietly as you look through the crime scene photos and pictures of the defendant's hands covered in soot from a fire. The victim had been burned.

"I'll be making a motion to dismiss this case based on a lack of substantial evidence linking my defendant to the body. Just a heads up." He then winks at you and walks away from your bar as the judge comes back and sits on the bench.

It seems as though you and Hiromi will have one last back and forth like old times.

When his case gets called before the judge, Hiromi takes the pleasure in speaking first. His client is handcuffed, sitting down next to him. The defendant was young, maybe nineteen. The evidence supporting his conviction was weak, but it was still there. Convincing a jury to convict him will be tough, and that's if the judge doesn't dismiss the charges outright.

After a long, drawn out argument between you and Hiromi about the proponderance of evidence, the judge decides to not dismiss the case.

"In that case, your honor, we would like to request a hearing today." Hiromi speaks with such confidence as he stands before the judge.

"Your honor, the state hasn't had adequate time to prepare for a hearing, and this is first setting. We'd like to request a reset date to prepare our defense." You immediately follow up as you also stand up.

"Your honor, my client has been incarcerated for over twenty-five days for a charge that has flimsy evidence at best. He has a right to a speedy trial." Hiromi rebuttals.

"Enough. We'll have a trial today whether the state is ready to proceed or not." The judge decides. Wonderful.

The trial is as painful as you imagined it to be. The evidence is flimsy, and Hiromi is practically bullying the witnesses on the stand, and when it's your turn for redirect, he practically bullies you with objection after objection.

"And what did the police-"

"Objection hearsay." Hiromi stands from his chair and eyes you with that cold stare of his.

"Your honor, I haven't even finished my question without the defense counsel butting in." You argue to the judge.

"Overruled. Counsel, let her finish." The judge warns.

Your head is practically throbbing by the end of it. The jury deliberates for two hours before coming back with the sentence. You tried your hardest and made good work with what evidence you had.

"On the charge of first-degree murder, we the jury find the defendant... not guilty."

Dammit. Hiromi won once again.

"On the charge of abuse of a corpse, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of tampering with physical evidence, we the jury find the defendant... guilty. On the charge of arson, we the jury find the defendant... guilty."

He didn't win.

"On these charges, I will impose a sentence of twenty-five years in the Fuchu Prison with the possibility of parole after ten years." The judge sentences before whacking his gavel down.

You let out an exhausting sigh as you slowly gather your things after court adjourns. Today was likely the hardest day in your career, and you can't help but think about that young nineteen-year-old who won't see freedom until he's twenty-nine.

Hiromi approaches you after the courtroom is completely empty.

"You seem tired, dove." He muses as he loosens his tie from around his neck. He'd never admit it, but you absolutely gave him a run for his money.

"It's not everyday someone gives me that much trouble in court." You softly laugh as you look up at him. You feel your cheeks warm as you realize how close he is to you.

"Yeah? Did it bring back old memories?" He steps closer as his hand slowly reaches up to cup your cheek.

"Hm? Of me winning our mock trials?" You ask with a cheeky grin, and his grip tightens a bit.

"I distinctly remember our record being 15-13 with me having 15 wins." He replies as he leans down to you. He remembers the score you two kept from back in law school?

"You must be still sore about me outscoring you on the bar if you kept up with our scores from mock trials."

"Mmm, quite the contrary actually, you've always been my favorite opponent, even if you piss me off." He replies as he leans down towards you and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss was full of everything you could ever imagine: heat, lust, a hint of resentment towards each other. Before you know it, you're pressed against the table as Hiromi's hands roam your body like he's in a frenzy.

"Hiro.." You moan as he kisses down your neck roughly biting on your flesh. "My office.." You whine, trying to get him to ease up on you just long enough so you two could get out of the courtroom.

"And if I say no, little dove?" He whispers in your ear as his hand slips underneath your dress with such ease. "You'd let me take you right here, wouldn't you?"

"Hiro~" You whine in a breathy tone as his fingers trace around your clit like they did so long ago.

"That's not an answer, little dove." He demands as he applies more pressure. "I asked if you'd let me fuck you on this bar until you forgot your own name."

"Yes-!" You gasp as his fingers skillfully play with your most sensitive area.

"That's what i figured. You were always such a slut back then too. Somethings never change, hm?" He muses as he goes back to sucking and kissing on your neck. His fingers tease near your entrance, but they slowly trail back up to your clit.

"You're lucky I respect you enough." He growls lowly before he removes his hand. "Lead the way to your office."

As soon as you two are behind closed doors in your modest office, clothes are being thrown onto the floor, moans and small whispers of sweet nothings were exchanged. You could quite literally feel your heartbeat fluttering deep inside your cunt.

He gently nudges you to lay down on the leather couch you had in your office for the late nights you spent reviewing evidence. Your skin connects with the soft leather as he gets between your legs. "I wonder if you still taste the same, little dove."

His tongue gently laps at you, and he immediately hums with satisfaction. "Somehow sweeter, actually." He answers his own question as flattens his tongue and licks you from entrance to clit, savoring your fluids of arousal on his tongue.

Your hands find his hair, and you gently tug on it as he helps himself to your wetness. He takes his time, lapping at you slowly while gently suckling on the small bundle of nerves. Sometimes you swear he's spelling his name into your cunt with his tongue before he shoves his tongue directly inside you, drinking your nectar straight from the source.

"H-hiro~!" You whimper as you try to shuffle your hips away. The stimulation was too much to handle.

"Don't try to run from me, little dove." He grunts as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you right back down onto his mouth.

His nose bumps into your clit as you subconsciously ride his face, searching for release. "Yeeahh, there we gooo. There's my little dove.. bein' such a slut." He coos as he buries his face deeper into your core.

His entire face is damp from your delicious juices. He's such a messy eater, getting it all over his chin and nose. His tired eyes flutter up to look at you as you're on the crux of your orgasm.

"Cum on my face, little dove. Let me have you." He instructs before lapping at your cunt like a starved man.

Your voice goes high pitched and breathy as you grab onto his hair tightly, forcing him in even more before you finish all over his mouth. He gratefully continues to run his tongue along your folds until your legs are trembling on his shoulders.

You softly pant as you relax into the couch. You hadn't had an orgasm like that in so long. You had almost forgotten how they feel.

Hiromi looks up at you with a confident smirk and an intoxicated gaze. "Seems like you missed me, little dove."

"Please, I only missed when you're too preoccupied to run your mouth." You retort with a grin.

"Is that so?" He questions as he pulls down his boxers, and his length springs up from the constraints of the fabric. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you're reminded of how big he is.

As if on muscle memory, you turn to get in doggy position because that was his and your position of choice back in college, but he grabs your thighs and prevents you from moving.

"Nuh uh. You're gonna look at me when I take you this time." He grins as he positions himself between your thighs. He fists his length a few times before slowly dragging his fat tip up and down your sopping wet folds, savoring the feeling with a small groan. "I wanna see the tears in your pretty eyes, little dove."

You're about to argue and protest about the tears part, but he's quick to shut you up by forcing his length into you all at once. Hiromi's not only long, but he's very girthy, stretching you so deliciously. White hot pain courses through you as your nails dig into the couch.

"Ah-! F-fuck!" You curse as you try to get use to his size.

"Mmm~ you're tight, dove. How long has it been for you, hm? Surely you've fucked someone since college, unless you've been hopelessly waiting for me." He grins as his hips are slow. He allows you the space to almost get use to him before he shoves into you aggressively, making you see stars.

"Ngh... p-probably like.. uh.. oh god, six months?" You answer as you stutter over your words. Your last hookup had ghosted you after you slept with him. Though, it didn't really bother you. He wasn't good in bed at all, and he called you crazy for asking him to be mean to you during the deed.

Hiromi simply smirks down at you, proud of himself for how fast he can make you a mess underneath him.

"Oh, you poor thing... hah.. No one can take care of this pussy like I can, hm?" He taunts as his hands grab ahold of your hips. His eyes are fixated on where you two are connects. He loves watching his length sink inside you.

Your warm wet entrance only serves to suck him in further, causing him to groan and continue his deep, ruthless pacing.

"N-no..." You're not even able to deny it to him and play hard to get. No one comes close to making you feel as good as he does.

His hips snap forward harshly, fucking you deeper into the black leather of the couch beneath you. Your entire body jolts with each rough thrust.

"Only I'm good for you, isn't that right little dove? You're mine, aren't you?" He asks as his hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, gently applying pressure. His eyes are now staring deeply into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Fuck, Hiro.." You whine, unable to commit to saying you're his. He applies a bit more pressure with his thumb and fingertips.

"I asked you a question." He grits as he slams back into you at a dizzying rate. "Are you mine?"

"Oh~ fuck.. I-" You can barely get a word out as he's ruthlessly abusing your little cunt. This was the roughness you had begged all those other guys for. "Yes-! God, fuck, yes." You cry as you feel your stomach clenching with the burning passion of another orgasm.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret because you're mine now, dove." He mumbles lowly as he leans closer towards you. His hips keep up with his rhythm as his face is close to your ear. "That guy you sent to prison today was innocent of all counts."

Your hands reach up and hold onto his back muscles as he's rutting deep inside of you, reaching new places with his new position.

"What-? Hiro... I don't.."

"You sent an innocent man to prison, little dove. Doesn't that bother you? You're sick just like me." He continues on, making you feel all confused.

"How... ah~ how do you know he's innocent?" You ask as your eyebrows furrow. Your hands search his back, and your legs wrap around him as if you're hugging him.

"Because I did it." He growls into your ear. "That pathetic excuse for a man wasn't good enough for you, LD."

Chills immediately shoot through your body from him calling you by those damn initials. LD. You cling to him for a moment, unsure of what to even feel or say. His hips continue to rut inside of you.

"What's the matter, little dove?"

LD. Little dove. You squeeze your eyes shut as you finally piece everything together. Your last hookup didn't disappear. Your stalker, Hiromi, took care of him just like he promised he would.

For some sick reason, your stomach continues to clench as he's rocking back and forth. Your eyes meet his.

"Hiro... that's so.." You can't get the words out before you're finishing all over his cock with a high-pitched squeal.

Hiromi grins wildly as he watches you come undone from your orgasm. "My little dove is just as sick as I am, isn't she?" He coos before he leans back up.

His hips starts to drill into you mercilessly, not giving you a chance to catch your breath or even think. "Oh, fuck!" He curses as he's chasing his high deep inside you. “Mmnph~ gonna cum inside you and really make you mine.” He coos as his hips start moving sloppily.

You know it’s so wrong and taboo, but you couldn’t help but feel your arousal start building again. He just confessed to you about a serious crime, yet your pussy was still soaked, making the most delicious plap! plap! plap! noises as he pounded into you.

“Fuuuuck~” He groans as you feel his thick length twitching inside of you as he spills deep into your womb.

For a moment, you’re completely speechless. Hiromi softly pants as he presses small kisses into your collarbones. “‘m sorry. I had to do it, dove. I couldn’t let him get close to you.” He murmurs quietly. “Only I get to hear your sweet sounds. No one knows you better than me.”

Taking a deep breath, you realize that if this ever gets brought to light, you and Hiromi are going down for life. You gently nuzzle your face into his neck. “Hiro, you’re insane.”

“I know that, I do.” His voice is so sweet, cooing to you. “But we can get away with it, even if we’re miraculously caught.” He presses a sweet kiss to your temple.

Well, a year later, and the two renowned lawyers are married. At least you didn’t marry someone with a criminal record ;)

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 round two

synopsis: things get a little heated during a sparring session between you and the moss-haired swordsman. and the results are... inconclusive.

cw: part 2/3 (possibly more), fluffy fluff, comfort, awkward zoro, awkward reader, i hate writing fight scenes

a/n: this took me ridiculously long for no reason

"Are you wearin' down on me, swordsman?" you asked, cockily, letting out a small grunt as your broad sword clashed with his katana, sending sparks flying through the air. "I thought your parries were faster than that."

He scoffed at your obvious taunt, biting back a smirk as you both pushed off, landing on opposite sides of the crow's nest for a quick breather.

"I could ask you the same thing," he panted, rolling his shoulders. "Footwork's gettin' sloppy."

You snorted, the adorable sound resonating deeply within the swordsman's chest.

"You wish my footwork was sloppy."

Just like that, you both were back at it, attacking and counter-attacking each other at speeds many could never hope of achieving.

And you both were only sparring.

"I think that's bounty's starting to go to your head," you weaved around one of his swings. "A billion berries can't buy you a new neck to support it."

He chuckled, forgoing the direct approach and opting to attack your sides, shifting his stance in order to compensate.

"Spoken like fifth place," he grinned, teasingly. "If I knew any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You gasped at the outlandish statement, nearly losing focus as he swung for your hip, your sword just barely making it in time to divert before you attempted to sweep his feet.

Sadly, he manged to jump out the way.

"I am not jealous!" you scoffed, throwing away your sword—the signal to begin the hand-to-hand section of your session, "I don't know if you've forgotten, but I entered this little race a little later than everyone else. And I still managed to make it to 950 million."

It was true.

The day after the banquet, your mother had all but kicked you out of the castle, going on and on about how as heir to the throne, it was your duty to explore the world before assuming the position, and that joining Luffy's crew was the opportunity of a lifetime.

And, of course, you understood her point, seeing as she had personal experience—she began traveling the seas around the same age with some infamous pirate crew led by a man named Rocks.

Though, a small part of you was a little worried.

You had never even stepped foot off Nabis before, so how the hell were you going to sail across the sea?

But, to your surprise, you managed to get along swimmingly with the Strawhats.

Making jokes... telling stories... sharing scars.

In fact, it went so well that by the time the banquet was over, Luffy was practically begging you to join—he reasoned that he had never met a real knight before, and wanted one on his crew.

Which brought you here, several hundred miles away from home and on month six of your journey across the sea.

Sprinting forward, you both quickly began exchanging hands, weaving, dodging, and striking in almost perfect sync.

Zoro grinned, pleasantly surprised to see that you'd taken the offensive this time, your movements speeding up in an obvious ploy to distract him while you dealt a final blow to his feet.

'Gonna have to do better than that.'

To say you both were "just crewmates" would be a criminal understatement.

You both were infinitely more than that.

Your relationship was completely different from what he had with the rest of the crew, from what he'd ever had with anybody before.

Sure, he and Sanji were relative in strength, but the cook didn't care about training, and the swordsman couldn't stand him, anyway.

He and Luffy were close, but the captain would much rather goof off and eat than work out, much less converse about sword techniques.

You were the first person to actively share the same interests as him, and actually have the strength to match.

If he finished a thousand push-ups, you finished a thousand push-ups.

If he was holding weighted handstands, you were holding weighted handstands.

If he was doing four-hundred pound squats across the deck, you were doing four-hundred pound squats across the deck, all the while chatting about a new thing you learned or a new weapon you'd been meaning to buy.

And it wasn't just training.

You and the swordsman did practically everything in equal measure.

Drinking... napping... laughing, everything.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy it, and he'd be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy you.

Suddenly feeling something attack his ankles, Zoro's eyes went wide, the man grunting as you swept his feet and knocked him on his ass.

But before he could even think to counter, you pounced, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists above his head with a triumphant grin.

"How's that... for fifth place?" you panted, taking a moment to bask in your victory.

You had never beaten him in hand-to-hand before.

Embarrassment burned up Zoro's neck at how easily he was taken down, his cheeks taking on a faint tinge of pink.

Not only because of that, but because of your compromising position.

With the way you were sitting, and the way you were leaning, your core was parked right on top of his crotch, and your tits were hanging right in his face.

'Goddamn it...'

And if that wasn't enough, you were wearing one of Nami's tiny tube tops and a pair of booty shorts—the navigator said your ancient wardrobe was in dire need of revitalizing.

Before you could react, Zoro used his strength to overpower you, flipping you both over and pinning your wrists above your head.

"I've seen better," he taunted, playing off his surprise.

Pissed you let your guard down, you let out a frustrated huff, leveling the swordsman with a miffed expression.

"You know, the gentlemanly thing would've been to let me have my win," you pouted, struggling in his grasp to no avail.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that," he chuckled, his grip ironclad. "Besides, I thought you liked a challenge?"

"Don't act like I didn't have you on the ropes, swordsman," you smirked, defiantly.

"Oh, now I'm swordsman?" he cocked a brow, amused, as he leaned in closer.

"You'll be Zoro if you let me go."

"How about I be Zoro and keep you here?"

"Real caveman of you to refer to yourself like that."

"You mad me beat you again. You sore loser."

"You asshole."

At your antics, you both laughed, the sound of his genuine one sending a thrum of warmth through your stomach.

You had been surrounded by men all your life—warriors, soldiers, leaders—and not one of them ever made you feel the way you felt around him.

In his presence, you felt light as air, yet at the same time, heavy as rock.

It was indescribable, and also unprecedented.

Since birth, you'd been trained to keep your emotions in check, both as a princess and a warrior of the royal army.

Yet, somehow, whenever you joined the swordsman's company, all that training seemed to go right out the window.

As your laughter died down, your eyes met in intense stare, the air between you two quickly thickening with tension.

And suddenly, in a sharp pang of instinct, you surged forward, crashing into his lips with a little more force than intended.

Instantly, Zoro's eye blew wide, completely taken aback—though he made no move to pull away.

He wanted to do everything but that, actually.

Yet you, judging by his facial expression, quickly realized that you'd made the wrong call.

"Oh, Great Hera," you muttered, utterly mortified as you pulled away.

The man was completely frozen, his expression unreadable as he stared down at you.

"Zoro... words cannot express how—"

Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned in, one of his hands leaving your wrist and cupping your cheek, pulling you into a passionate kiss which you more than happily reciprocated.

Newly free, your hand found its way to the nape of his neck, teasing his hair as he moved to hook his arm under your waist.

At your eagerness to reciprocate, Zoro smiled into the kiss, slightly relieved that you didn't punch him in the gut or put him in a Nabisian choke hold.

This was a long time coming, and now that he had you in his clutches, he could agree it was well worth the wait.

The two of you pulled back for air, awkwardly meeting each other's gaze.

"So...?"

"Yeah," he blurted, flushed from ear to ear.

"..."

"..."

"Wanna go for Round Two?"

"Yes."

[sugardollcurse]

I LOVE your hcs with the boys so much（´ 3｀) ok so picture this.... there's a rumour in the papers that he's having an affair, can you do how he'd show you that it's actually false and how he'd prove that he really loves you ? ˆ𐃷ˆ

𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔

𐙚 note ; thank you for always being so kind!! i hope you’re feeling adored today!! ✿

𓆩🕊️ john 𓆪

"You really think I'd be stupid enough to cheat on you?"

It’s some daft article in the Mirror.

Claims John was seen laughing “intimately” with an actress at a party. There’s even a fuzzy photo. You barely mention it, but he knows.

He catches you going quiet when you think he’s not looking. Biting the inside of your cheek. Folding laundry without speaking. That’s how he knows it’s gotten to you.

At first, he tries to laugh it off,

“You think I’d go for her? Christ, she’s not even funny.” But then he sees your face fall just slightly, and he gets serious real fast.

“Look, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not bloody stupid. I wouldn’t toss this” he gestures between you two “just for a daft party flirt. You know me better’n that.”

He proves it. Reads you lines from his songs in that dramatic fake-Shakespeare voice

(“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s giggle, luv”)

Follows you around the flat strumming nonsense love songs until you smile.

“You want proof?” he finally says, softer. “I talk about you to everyone. Paul’s sick of hearin’ your name, swear it.”

𓆩🕊️ paul 𓆪

"C'mon, love. That's not even my shoulder!"

Paul is devastated that the media would even suggest something like that.

The article has a grainy photo of someone who vaguely looks like him walking into a hotel with a girl, but it’s not him.

The hair’s wrong. The coat’s not his. The smile isn’t even close to being yours.

You don’t even bring it up, but Paul notices you’ve stopped humming his songs around the house. That’s enough to panic him.

He comes straight home with every receipt ever.

Swears he’ll call the bloody photographer if he has to.

He takes your face in his hands and says, voice thick, “Don’t let this rot get in your head, sweetheart. I love you. Only you. Always have, always will.”

Keeps proving it in little ways: he writes your initials in the margins of his notebook, takes you to the studio just to kiss you between takes.

He goes all out. Flowers, your favorite kind, hand-picked. A note tucked into each one, little scribbled things.

𓆩🕊️ george 𓆪

"Can’t stop ‘em printing lies. But I can show you what’s true."

The paper’s cruel.

Says George’s been “getting cozy” with some socialite at a club.

You weren’t even in town that night. You don’t ask, but George sees the shift, less eye contact, slightly less affection.

He doesn’t know how to say it at first. But it eats him up that you might think for even a second he’d choose someone else.

Comes into the kitchen one morning and just wraps his arms round your waist from behind, murmurs, “Y’don’t believe it, do you?”

When you hesitate, his arms tighten. “No. No, don’t do that. That’s what they want. It’s all rubbish, love. Every word.”

He proves it with his quiet devotion: he skips after-parties to be home with you.

He gives you his guitar when he’s writing.

He tucks your scarf into his coat pocket and calls it his good luck charm.

One night, you find a folded bit of paper in your coat, lyrics he wrote but never showed anyone. Scrawled at the bottom:

“You’re the only voice I hear through all the noise.”

He doesn’t say much. But when he kisses you that night, his hands trembling a little where they hold your face, you know.

𓆩🕊️ ringo 𓆪

“I don’t care what the papers say. You’re the only one I want comin’ home to.”

Ringo gets hit with a nasty one.

Claims he’s been “secretly meeting” a woman he dated years ago before fame. Total lie, but it rattles you.

He finds you reading it at the kitchen table. Frowns immediately.

“Don’t believe that rot, do you?”

You don’t answer right away. He gets real quiet, then pulls out a chair and sits beside you, knees touching yours.

“You know me,” he says softly. “I’m not slick. I’m not some silver-tongued fella sneakin’ round in the night. I’d never do that to you.”

You still look unsure, so he pulls out the box. The one he’s been hiding in the closet. Inside: a little ring he’s had made for you, engraved with your initials.

“Was savin’ this for later. But I think you need to see it now.”

“Y’know how I prove it’s false?” he adds, “’Cause I’ve been plannin’ forever with you, not anyone else. That’s real.”

He makes you your favorite tea. Writes you a silly poem that rhymes “cupboard” with “loved bird.”

He even calls up Brian and has him verify where he was the night the photo was supposedly taken.

He makes sure you know how loved you are, cuddling into your side when he watches telly, dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz records, introducing you proudly as “my better half.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee

[sdmnpact]

Special Moments.

Chris MD x Reader

[] A collection of special moments between you and your boyfriend Chris.

~~~

You and Chris have been dating for a year now. Every interaction feels like a special moment but if you had to choose a few, these would be the top four.

---

"You owe me a kiss."

"Whoo!! Another round! George shouted. You and a couple of friends were doing a pub crawl, filming a video for Chris' channel. The group consisted of you, Becky, Arthur², Bach, George, and Chris. You loved drinking and hanging out with your friends so you were ecstatic when you got invited to join.

You were at the fourth pub finally feeling some type of effect from the alcohol. You were letting loose and that meant becoming quite clingy. Your hands were making their way all over your friends more specifically a short blonde boy.

"Jesus Y/n, buy me dinner first." He said jokingly. He secretly loved the attention you were giving him. "People would pay good money for me to touch them, wait no." You said taking back your words causing Chris to laugh. "I think that means you need another shot!" He said passing you another. You scrunched your face at the liquid as he did the same.

"Stop being so cute." You said pinching his cheek. "I know I'm fun sized but that doesn't mean I'm cute." He replied. "I could just kiss you right now." You said wiping your finger down his lips. "I'll hold you to it." He pointed. "Do it!" You said teasingly throwing back another shot.

Needless to say, the next day was eventful.

You were around the flat of George, Chris, and Arthur because you were gonna help Arthur film some videos for his channel. You weren't too hung over from yesterday but you weren't your best either.

It was a blur and you can vaguely remember some things you did but not much you said. That's when Chris came home from grocery shopping.

"Y/n! What a surprise!" He said jokingly since you usually hung around here. You waved at him from the couch. He placed the bags on the counter and suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"You owe me a kiss." He said making your heart drop. "What!?" You exclaimed. "Well last night you said you would kiss me and well I'm cashing in." He said coming closer folding his arms like you owed him money.

You got nervous because you didn't remember saying that but knowing how you kept drinking, you knew you'd be dumb enough to expose your feelings for him.

Yes, you had feelings for this short man but you were never going to act on them. You loved hanging out with the whole lot so you didn't wanna ruin a good thing. You didn't know if you had spilled the whole crush or just said you wanted to snog.

"What exactly did I say?" You asked prying for details. "'I could just kiss you right now.'" He repeated your words from last night. "Im just joking you don't have to kiss me. I know you were messing around but your face just now." He said laughing. You faked laughter but what if you just told him how you felt? What if you took that leap?

"What if I did want to kiss you." You stopped laughing. He stopped too, his head cocking to the side like a confused dog. "Well then I'd say go ahead." He said walking in front of you on the couch. You stood up and planted your lips on his. He was shocked at first that you actually went through with it but after a couple seconds he leaned into the kiss.

Your stomach was doing front flips and you couldn't believe you actually took a gamble on this. His arms made their way to your waist as you cupped his cheeks.

"Woah- Chris you dog." You heard George's voice say causing you two to pull away. You looked over to see George standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face.

"Um that was, uh." Chris stumbled all over his words making you chuckle. "Eh, I don't know what that was." He said fiddling with his fingers.

"It can be whatever you want." You teased plopping back onto the couch. He sat beside you, grabbing your hand. "I think it could this." He kissed the top of your hand and shot you a cheeky grin, a blush rising to your cheeks. With that, a new relationship was formed.

---

"I love you."

At this point, you and Chris had been dating for four months. You haven't said those special three words to each other yet. It seemed like there was never a good time so neither of you said it. That was until one sunny spring day when you two decided to go on a hike to the nearest trail.

"Babe, your shoes untied!" Chris shrieked as you were about to tripped over the lace. He bent down and tied it for you. "See, what would I do without you." You said jokingly.

"I'm a charmer." He chuckled. You two had been hiking for an hour already and were a bit knackered at this point so you decided to take a short break near some giant rocks. You sat down, drinking water and taking in the sights.

It was a beautiful scene, the mountains were covers in bright green grass and there was a clearing down below that just sparkled in the sunlight. There were plenty of flowers in bloom scattered throughout the trail releasing an intoxicating scent.

You had asked Chris to take pictures of you with them and he happily obliged getting a few good ones and a lot of wonky ones. Either way, you were happy and going to share them all.

You were laying on top of a large flat rock you found, basking in the sunlight when Chris sat next to you. You sat up and grabbed his arm, holding him tightly. "Here." He said handing you a small bouquet of flowers he picked.

"What's this for!" You gasped excitedly taking them in your hands and smelling the bunch. "Just to say I love you." He replied giving you a goofy look. Your jaw was basically on the floor. Did you hear him right?

"Chris! You can't just drop that out of nowhere!" You exclaimed lightly slapping his arm. "What! I can't tell the girl I love that I love her!?" He replied with a smug grin on his face. "You're such a knobhead." You replied plucking at the flowers. "A knobhead you love?" He questioned pouting his lips and giving you puppy eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Of course I love you!" You said throwing yourself on top of him and pushing his backwards so you two were laying down. You gave him a small kiss on the lips.

"Just didn't know you were gonna blurt it out like that." You mumbled as you placed your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you.

"Next time I'll warn you." He joked. You smiled widely like an idiot, an idiot in love.

---

"I don't believe it."

After a while of dating, the topic of Chris' ex comes back into the conversation every now and then. His friends still bring it up and the turmoil he went through after it. You didn't mind it at first but deep down you felt that he may have still had feelings for her.

You tried to ignore it but it was brought up so much, you just couldn't. This night was the last straw.

You and Chris had been out drinking with a couple of friends. One of them made a joke about Chris' ex and you went stiff. Chris was already quite drunk at this point and just began talking nonsense.

"Yeah maybe I still love her, I don't know." He replied finishing the last bit of his drink and laughing. You didn't say a word and quietly slipped outside. The second you walked out, you began shivering at the cold air. You didn't bring a jacket because you assumed you'd be inside the warm pub all night.

You leaned against the wall, just glad you were away from that conversation. Tears were streaming down you face but you didn't realize it until a drop hit your arm. You just wanted to go home at this point.

You heard the door open and you looked over to see Chris standing there. "What happened? I was looking for you and you weren't there." He said coming closer reaching for your arm. You pulled away, crossing them and facing away from him trying to hide the fact that you'd been crying.

"Nothing, I just wanna go home." You tried to say clearly, your voice breaking at the end.

"Cmon baby, it's cold outside. Let's just go inside and talk." He said trying to get a look at your face. You turned away, tears continuing to fall.

"No, I just want to go home. You go back and enjoy your night." You mumbled wiping at your nose. He seemed to have softened at this because his expression turned from confused to worried.

"Seriously, are you okay?" He asked finally seeing your face and the dried tears all over it. "Baby, have you been crying?-"

"Yes, I've been crying! Chris, you said you still loved your ex! I was sitting right next to you! How do you think I feel hearing that?" You exclaimed, tired of this.

"That was only a joke." He tried explaining.

"I don't believe it."

"Baby, I love you. I only love you. I haven't even thought of her since I've met you. Yeah I'll joke around with the boys every now and then but how can I love someone else when I have you. You're literally the reason I wake up in the morning. You're my entire life right now. I love you and only you." You looked at him cautiously. He had just spilled his heart out. You've never heard him like this and you felt that he was telling the truth.

"Really?" You said, sniffling.

"Yes. Come here." He wrapped his arms around you, your head buried in his chest. "I love you so much. You're my everything. Never forget it." He said softly. "I love you too." You replied quietly. You two stood in each others arms for a few minutes despite the freezing temperature. The only warmth you need was each other.

---

"I bought this because I thought you'd like it."

Chris had just gotten back from shooting the 'Seven Wonders of the World' video with the Sidemen, more specifically Ethan and George. You were so excited to see your boyfriend after a couple days away. You two don't see each other every single day but every other day in fact. Two loves birds that just can't get enough of each other, even after a year of dating.

You went to pick Chris up from the airport because you knew the flight would get in late and he would be incredibly tired. You pulled up to the pick up zone and saw Chris with all his luggage. He was alone, probably because the other boys were just as exhausted and already left. Chris had asked you to pick him up so you were the first thing he came home to after that long trip.

The airport was pretty desolate beside the few stragglers still waiting for their ride. It was quite easy to spot your short blonde boyfriend even from a mile away. You put the car in park and hopped out, excited to hug and kiss your boyfriend after only days apart.

The second you were close enough, he tackled you in a big bear hug. You finally felt safe again. You stood like that for quite some time, taking in that familiar scent you love so much. He was smelling you too, the feelings of missing you disappearing now that he has you in his arms again. It seems a bit cliché but what can you say? You were in love.

"I missed you." You said as if he had gone to the war and just gotten back. Although it was about five days, it felt like a lifetime. You're so used to seeing him whenever you want or him coming over to your flat unexpectedly with food. This was such a long time away from eachother.

"I missed you so much!" He replied back plastering kisses all over your face causing you to chuckle. "Oh, I got a surprise!" He said excitedly. You smiled warmly at how happy he was. He quickly put his things in the boot of the car and opened the passenger door for you. He wasn't gonna let you drive now that he's back.

He pulled out a small fabric bag made up of vibrant colors. "I bought this because I thought you'd like it." He said, a huge grin on his face.

In his hands was a small figurine of two alpacas kissing with a small heart over their heads. "It's made of alpaca wool!" He said excitedly adding to the gesture. He knows how much you love little knick knacks like this and the moment he saw it in the small little shop near Machu Picchu, he knew he had to get it for you.

"Chris! This is the sweetest thing ever!" You gushed grabbing the figurine admiring the details and feeling the texture. "Thank you so much!" You continued, placing a kiss on his lips.

You road home talking about his trip the entire time. He raved about all the activities he did and you couldn't stop looking at your man. Both of you incredibly enamored with each other.