#this has probably already been done before

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐧’ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

18+ MINORS DNI

or: natasha and you go to a concert

part of the short n‘ sweet universe

a/n: another request (who would’ve thought); don’t judge me for the title, i thought it’d be fitting since that’s the name of the tour as well 😗

summary: going to sabrina‘s concert with natasha; based on this request <3 (it took almost three months for me to get to writing this wtf)

warnings: smut (penetration, brief fingering), exhibitionism (i swear i use this tag on almost all sns fics…whatever), alcohol, natasha not being able to recognize emotional intelligence if it shot her in the face

word count: 12k

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Hooking up in the university's library is one of the dumber ideas Natasha's come up with so far.

The encyclopedia isle is usually empty — most people use Wikipedia, or another online platform. Physical media has, unfortunately, experienced a decline in popularity.

Sex hasn't, though. Which is why your 'study session' lasted ten minutes instead of two hours. Not much had to happen: Natasha walked in, knowing you'd be sitting between piles of books. She was still in her basketball jersey. Only her shorts had been swapped for slightly warmer sweatpants.

You've been hooking up for months at this point. You can't say you're dating, because you're not. You never really talked about it But when you're around each other, the possibility of her ending up inside of you is big.

Natasha looks up, her body still on top of yours. Her hands are braced next to your head, and you can see the sweat glisten on her neck. You lift your hand and wipe it away.

The floor you're on is carpeted and worn. It smells like old socks and books. You glance to your right and see the half empty packet of beef jerky someone discarded under one of the bookshelves.

"Someone walked in", she says, not making a move to get up. "I think it's that weird dude. You know, with the hoodies."

"That's great", you mumble. You shift beneath her. "I feel like we have more pressing issues, though."

She frowns and looks at you. At first, she doesn't understand. She's warm and comfy, and changing her current situation doesn't seem like the best way to keep up her good mood. But then she realizes she's still inside of you, so she quickly pulls out.

Sweatpants tugged back up, she gets up from the floor. You take the hand she offers you and get up, then adjust your skirt. Wearing that was probably one of the better decisions you've made today — easy access, quick to pull down and cover yourself back up. Natasha resists the urge to pout when your thighs are out of view again.

She was right — someone did enter, and they're approaching the encyclopedia aisle. You grab her hand and tug her back to the tables, causing her to stumble. She curses under her breath.

"Hey!"

"Sit", you urge her. She plops into a chair and you turn around. Before you can sit down, she wraps her arm around your waist and easily pulls you into her lap. "Oh- seriously?"

"You wanted to study", she points out. Her chin comes to rest on your shoulder, her head turns just enough for her to be able to kiss your neck. "So study."

You sigh and get comfortable in her lap. You may as well, since you're probably not moving for a while. Her hand is under your skirt already.

"I'm done with studying", you reply. She hums, lips sucking on your skin until a hickey forms. "Quit that."

"What? This is motivation. Positive reinforcement or whatever they call it."

The guy from earlier reemerges from the encyclopedia aisle, this time carrying a stack of books. The second he sees you, though, he whips around and heads in the opposite direction. Natasha laughs against your neck, a breathy sound, and squeezes your hip.

"What are you doing this weekend?", she mumbles.

You don't reply right away. You've learned that leading her on just a bit makes things better, for some reason — she gets more attentive, puts more effort into the time you spend together. It's not like she doesn't treat you well, because she does. But she sometimes needs to be reminded that, if she doesn't at least try a little, you can easily replace her.

"Not sure", you say vaguely. "There's this concert I wanted to go to with a friend. I haven't gotten tickets yet, though."

"A concert?" Natasha tries to sneak her hand higher up under your skirt, but you quickly grab her arm. "Who's performing?"

"You don't know her", you say, pushing her hand away. She pouts against your shoulder. "I doubt you listen to her music."

Natasha shrugs and puts her hand on your waist instead. She's aware you probably have a point. She's listened to one of your playlists before, and honestly, the only reason she didn't complain was because you were walking around her room naked. That wasn't something she wanted to interrupt.

Does she like the idea of going to a concert with you, though? She does. More than the idea of someone else accompanying you, whether they're just a friend or not.

"I could give it a try. I listen to all kinds of stuff."

A lie. You hear the dishonesty drip from her voice. Natasha's picky with what she listens to. However, she isn't picky about the way she spends time with you. Besides, she'll get to see you all dolled up again — that makes up for it already.

You give her a skeptical look. All she does in response is crack a smile and kiss your jaw.

"It's Sabrina. I probably won't get tickets, anyway", you tell her. Natasha shrugs. "It's this Saturday. I think it's sold out."

"Come on. If there's a will, there's a way."

You roll your eyes, but the way the corners of your mouth twitch betrays you. You turn toward your study setup again and start looking for a folder on your laptop. She watches, leaning forward and breathing in the scent of perfume.

"Don't be too excited", you warn her, opening the folder. A kiss to the crook of your neck makes you squirm. "It's definitely sold out."

"I'll find a way" she insists, glancing at the screen. A bunch of French phrases that you're supposed to translate have popped up. "Not this again."

You ignore her and start typing. She was probably expecting you'd go back to your dorm, like last time. Unfortunately, homework can't wait. Natasha has proven she'll stick around, anyway. That's clear from the way her hands run under your shirt to roam your stomach.

. . .

You get the text message only minutes after your takeout arrives. You're in bed, wearing shorts and a hoodie, the Chinese food still warm and the Sunkist ice cold. Your phone buzzes, so you start digging through the pile of blankets and pillows to retrieve it.

You knew it'd be her name on the screen. You didn't expect that message, though.

Natasha: meet me downstairs in five — 6.02pm

Biting into your egg roll, you try to reply to the message. Before you manage to do that, another one pops up.

Natasha: forget it, im coming upstairs — 6.03pm

There's no use in trying to keep her from doing so. She's stubborn, always has been, and you know her well enough to be certain she's walking up the stairs already. She doesn't even knock; the door just swings open.

"Hey", you mumble, scrolling through your phone and eating fried rice with one hand. "If you want food, order some."

"Forget the food", she says. You look up and raise your eyebrows when you see the two tickets she's holding. Pink and slightly wrinkled. "Look what I found."

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it again. Concert tickets — more than impressive, considering the show was sold out when you last checked. You set the fried rice aside.

"Are those real?", you ask, frowning.

"Very real. I got them from this dude on Facebook marketplace, really sketchy area." She shrugs off her letter jacket and sits down on your desk chair, swiveling it around and scooting closer. You snatch them from her before she can show them to you properly.

They do seem real. Wrinkled, yes, but looking similar to other tickets you've had before. You glance up at her.

"What's your plan?"

Leaning back and crossing her arms, Natasha shrugs. She kicks her feet up on the mattress of your bed, boots and all, and you sigh before nudging them off. You grimace at the bits of dirt that are left behind.

"You said you wanted to go", she says. "So let's go."

Secretly, you're impressed. A little bit, at least. She went out of her way to track these tickets down, just so you could see the concert. To be fair, she had another reason to — she gets to join, after all. But that doesn't make much of a difference. You didn't have to ask for her to do it.

She's looking a little too smug, though. Head tilted, eyes studying you like she knows she's getting some kind of reward for this. You get up, tickets in hand, and start digging through your closet.

Natasha watches as you take off your hoodie. The impatience makes her skin tingle, and she shifts in her seat.

"That's a yes?", she asks, still staring. You're taking your head out of its bun.

"Yeah", you say vaguely. You let your shorts fall to the floor, where they pool around your ankles, and step out of them. "Like I said, my friend really wanted to go. He'll Venmo you the money."

Her face twists into a small, offended frown. Maybe she should've been more specific, but she bought the tickets so she could go to the concert with you — not some random person. A guy nonetheless.

Speaking is hard, since you're standing in front of her half naked. She blinks and shakes her head. "Your...what?"

"Friend", you repeat. You peek into your closet again and push the jackets aside to look for a specific dress. "His idea."

Natasha stares for another moment, then she runs her hand down your face. Just hooking up. Not dating, not committed. The only argument she has is that she bought the tickets.

You glance at her over your shoulder and smile to yourself. You can see the distress slowly bubbling up in her. You'd keep going, but you're already running late for the concert. You can also tell she meant well — this is not her trying to get you into bed again. Making her spiral would be nothing but mean.

"You're so gullible", you say. You reach for a shade of lipstick that matches your outfit. "Of course you're coming with me. You'll hate every second, I need to see that."

She rolls her eyes and slumps into the chair again. She's relieved, but she also knows she probably came off as desperate. That thought is quickly forgotten about when you step closer, though.

There's a bracelet around your wrist. Pink beads, dangling stars. Small and delicate, but enough to transport back in time. She remembers a house that smelled like alcohol and weed, sex in a friend's bedroom, waking up and feeling conflicted for the first time ever. She doesn't even realize she's staring at the bracelet instead of you.

Cupping her jaw, you tilt her face up. Soft lips press against hers and leave behind lipstick. Suddenly, she's too flustered to speak. She's surrounded by your perfume, her mouth still tingling. She doesn't even register when you pull her up from the chair.

"Come on", you say, ushering her out the door. "Freshen up. I need to put on some makeup, I look dead."

"Dead?", Natasha protests. A head or so taller than you, yet she's letting you order and push her around like a well behaved dog. "Nah, you look good. I like the dark circles under your eyes, you-"

With one firmer push, you guide her right out the door and into the hallway. The door slams shut, and Natasha just stands there for a moment to process everything.

If this were someone else, she'd go home and ghost that person. It wouldn't be worth it — she knows enough women who'd sleep with her when asked. But it's you, so she rubs her face before padding down the hall toward the shared bathroom.

. . .

The parking lot in front of the concert venue is packed. Natasha barely manages to find an empty spot, and the one she finds is right next to a bunch someone left behind. Fast food wrappers, empty beer bottles, some dark mystery liquid — you lift your eyebrows at the sight.

She reads your thoughts like an open book. Rolling her eyes, she reaches behind the seats and pulls out a full bottle of vodka. The clear liquid immediately distracts you.

"Seriously?", you ask, grabbing it. She smirks and fishes out a bottle of orange juice as well. "Really thought of everything."

"Pregame", she replies. She pours the juice into a red solo cup and hands it to you. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's tradition for me. Clint brings an entire keg full of beer."

Slightly distracted by the task of adding vodka to the cup, you hum. It smells like oranges and alcohol, paired with the air freshener Natasha keeps in her car. You picked it out, back when you stopped at a gas station while coming back from a party.

It'd been her idea. Now it dangles from the rear view mirror, pink and shaped like a Christmas tree. Natasha can't even drive home from practice without being reminded of you, but that bothers her less than she'd expected.

You shift in your seat and lift your legs. Getting them across the center console is tricky due to your dress, but once you manage to swing them over, they land in Natasha's lap. She glances at your legs, blinking and putting her hand on your calf.

The drink tastes like every other you've had so far. Alcoholic, sweet and a little tart. When you've had enough, Natasha grabs the cup and empties out the two sips you left. Your lipstick transfers from the cup to her top lip.

You watch her for a moment, then lean over and wipe it away. Thumb gently pressing down on her lips, you tilt your head. "Ready?"

She raises her eyebrows and leaves a quick kiss on your thumb, then she unbuckles. "Ready", she says, opening the car door. "Come on."

After waiting in line for a while, you enter the venue. Natasha isn't too sure what to do with her hands — but when people start running and bumping into each other, she gives up the facade she usually puts on and wraps an arm around your shoulder. It's not what she's used to, but you sink into her side with enough ease to make her believe that could change.

"Wow", you mumble as you walk into the massive space. "Crowded already."

"Yeah", she says, frowning. "You can barely see the stage from here."

You shrug, subtly eyeing the people around you. Mainly girls, of course. All glitter and pink and cowboy boots. You get a little closer to Natasha.

"It's fine", you say. "This is good, too."

She glances at you, then shakes her head. She's getting you closer to that stage, even if it means getting in a fight with a few other people. Tightening her arm around you, she starts pushing through the crowd.

For her, it's easy. She has the advantage of both height and years of working out. All she has to do is slowly work her way forward utilizing her elbows. There aren't many verbal complaints, but the quick glares are telling.

"You'll end up pushing someone."

"That's the point", she mutters, pulling you in tighter. "Need to get them out of my way somehow, no?"

You shoot her an unimpressed look, but she keeps her eyes on the crowd. Step by step, elbows occasionally nudging someone aside, Natasha weaves your way through the group of people for you. Somehow, you make it close to the barricade.

From that point on, you don't have much choice but to stay where you are. The barricade is jammed with people, and honestly, staying a couple feet further in the back makes more sense.

Natasha believes she's on a mission, though. You have to poke her chest a few times to keep her from wedging herself into a group of girls.

"Are you trying to storm the stage?", you ask, gripping the front of her shirt. She stops in her tracks.

"You don't want first row?"

"I'm just glad we're here at all", you say pointedly. Around you, more people try to get closer to the front. Natasha is forced to step closer, so her chest is almost pressed against yours.

A bit taken aback, she stares at you. The lights have dimmed, and your face is inches away from hers. Your lipstick is smudged already — not much, but enough to remind her of the nights she's spent getting it into an even worse state.

"Yeah", she says dumbly. Her hand is still firmly planted on your back, keeping you close. "Me too."

You tilt your chin up enough for her to be able to kiss you if she wanted. Her heart beats a bit faster, but she tries to ignore it. Catching feelings isn't something she allows herself to do. She leans in anyway.

Just before her mouth reaches yours, the lights go out entirely. Cheers erupt around you, and you pull away too fast for Natasha to see it coming. She turns around and stares at the giant screen on the stage.

"That's a cartoon", she mumbles, still staring.

"It's the intro", you explain. You rest your back against her chest and feel her arms cross over your chest. "Just wait."

Natasha hums, her thumb rubbing back and forth on your shoulder. The cartoon ends, and a woman sitting in a bathtub appears instead. You lower your head enough to kiss her forearm.

"What's her name again?"

"Sabrina", you say absently, watching the screen go dark. It slides up smoothly, revealing a stage with winding staircases and curtains. When she steps out, wrapped into a white towel, and the spotlight tracks her as she runs from one side to the other.

Finally, she steps onto the stage. The cheers are loud as she grabs the fabric of the towel to open it and reveal a glittering golden bodysuit.

"Wow", Natasha murmurs into your hair. "Would you ever, you know..."

You smile against her skin. "Yeah?"

She shrugs. She's picturing you in it already, wearing it just for her. You'd step in between her legs as she sits on the bed. The glitter on the fabric would leave a residue on her hands.

"Would look good." She kisses your earlobe right as the music starts playing. You shut Natasha up by patting her arm a few times, the words already tumbling out of you as you sing along.

Natasha has no clue what the lyrics are, but she's pretty sure she's heard you play this exact song a bunch of times. Luckily, the crowd is loud enough to conceal the fact that all she can do is hum along quietly.

It's worth it, though. She's heard you sing along a few times before, but never like this. Her arms tighten around you as the people around you move, just to make sure neither of you fall. Your heart thrums hard in your chest, and she feels every beat like the music rattling her ribcage.

In the middle of it, you turn your head. You can't quite look at her, but that's not important. She leans in anyway to kiss your cheek. At this point, it's hardly platonic. Hardly something she'd be doing with anyone else, but also hardly something she'd ever admit.

"Liked this one?"

"It wasn't bad", she says. "You seemed to enjoy it."

You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows. She raises hers right back at you. Around you, the crowd gets louder when the next song starts. You keep staring, determined to make this last, but at some point, you have no choice. You turn towards the stage again, and Natasha swallows to get rid of whatever's lodged in her throat.

Focusing on the concert itself seems impossible. You're still pressed against her front, all body warmth and perfume, and the show isn't the most exciting thing anymore. Her hands settle on your waist and her brain blanks when you accidentally grind into her.

The word 'don't' is on the tip of her tongue, but she chokes on it. You have no clue what you're doing — you're singing along off tune, unbothered by the people around you bumping into you. It's not the first time you're ignoring her, but it might be the first time you're doing it on purpose.

"Do you know the difference?"

Natasha quickly looks at you. Your eyes are on her instead of the stage, and you've almost turned around enough to be fully facing her. She didn't even register the song ending.

"What difference?", she asks, hugging you tighter when a girl stumbles into you. Without realizing, she shields you from everyone else.

You gesture at the short blonde on stage, who's already started the next song. "You know — 'there, their and they are.' Were you even listening?"

Natasha goes from infatuated to slightly offended. Rumors have been circulating since forever, pretty much. That she's dumb, an idiot who's somehow got into college thanks to being a top athlete. You questioning her grammar skills hits that sore spot a little too well.

"Of course I do", she snaps, still keeping you wrapped up in her arms. A black tee, with the short sleeves straining around her biceps. "'There' as in where, 'their' as in belongs to them, they-"

The 'are' doesn't make it out. You get on your tiptoes instead, kissing her and swallowing the word. People cheer, either at the show or at you. You choose to believe it's you.

Hands grip your waist, thumbs pressing into skin. You hook one finger into her necklace and ignore the song. You focus on not stumbling backwards with her instead. She tastes lipstick and vodka. Suddenly, the bathrooms are way too far away — and she can't put a pause on the concert, so her only option is to slow down.

You pull away, cupping her face with one hand. Your thoughts aren't any less lewd than hers, but you're just as aware of the fact you're in the middle of a concert. Nobody's staring, really — they're too focused on what's happening onstage.

Natasha clears her throat and nods at Sabrina, who's performing a slower song now. Without hesitating too much, you turn back around and lean against her front again. Arms wrapped around your middle, she goes quiet.

You get peace for about 10 minutes. Then she pulls out a round bed and Natasha's ears heat up. She's still imagining you in that cute little getup, but now, she's flashing back to a specific night. One leg thrown over her hip, keeping her as deep inside as possible. Tugging at her shoulders and moaning into her ear. Lifting your hips a bit, just enough to meet her every thrust.

It'd been quiet in your dorm, apart from the music coming from another building nearby. It smelled like the cocktail you spilled and the new perfume you insisted on testing out on her. Between pinning her down in order to spray some of the perfume on her, she'd grabbed you and rolled over. Every nerve ending lights up, and heat licks at her spine.

"Hey", she mumbles, starting to get antsy. She's trying hard to keep it in her pants, but she needs a moment to calm down. "I gotta go to the bathroom. You'll be okay?"

You're barely listening, but you hear her anyway. You turn around and frown, your cheeks glowing with a mixture of body glitter and sweat. "Really? Now?"

"Just a minute", she snaps. "I'll be back in no time, I swear. Just stay here."

You give her a doubting look, but the more she fidgets and glares, the less resistance you show. With a defeated sigh, you turn away from her.

"Told you not to drink too much. Fine, go. I'll stay here."

Natasha nods, already making her way through the crowd. Her jeans are getting tighter with every step, her heart racing and her nape sweaty. She's seconds away from public disgrace, and the only thing that's able to save her is the bathroom. To get there, she has to elbow and shove her way through crowds of people. The second the door falls shut, she's bent over the sink and splashing her face with water.

The coldness of it seeps into her skin numbs it a little. Biting her knuckles, she looks up at her own reflection and nearly curses under her breath. She's flushed and dripping water all over herself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck", she mutters, grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser. She starts drying her face. "Shit."

Behind her, the door to the bathroom opens. She ignores the girls walking in and turns around, sniffling and rubbing her hands dry. She can't even hear her footsteps as she makes her way back into the venue — the music is too loud, even here in the hallway.

Natasha trying to reach the barricade again nearly gets her into a fight. She's always been stubborn, though, and her determination gets her back to your side within a few minutes.

You don't seem to notice her. You're leaning toward another girl, giggling and talking, and Natasha feels her blood pressure rise in a way that feels similar to the drop on a rollercoaster. The girl's fingers are grazing your arm, her head tilted — suddenly, Natasha understands why you get testy whenever she flirts with someone.

Whether it's for fun or not suddenly doesn't matter anymore. She grabs you without warning and muffles your squeak by pulling you against her chest.

"Are you insane?", you hiss. "What was that for?"

"Focus on the show", she says, shushing you. Your nose is right against her shirt, smelling deodorant and feeling the slight dampness of the fabric. "Hey, black suits her."

"Huh?" You turn around and groan. During that short moment of Natasha distracting you, Sabrina managed to pull off a costume change. Feather starts playing, but you're pouting.

Natasha glances at you, her heart thudding still. You're refusing to look at her now, and it's killing her. She's not sure where she went wrong, but it must've happened right after her return from the bathroom.

This is not what she wanted. In her mind, you'd have fun and go home together afterwards. She'd crash in your dorm, naked and hungover, and you'd be happy to have her there. Now, you look like you're about to storm off.

"Are you on your period?", she says, joking in hopes to get you to laugh. It only seems to make matters worse, though, because the look she gets chills her to the bone. "Jesus, alright. Shouldn't have said that."

You roll your eyes and turn around again, keeping your eyes on the stage. The crowd screams over the lyrics, it smells like perfume and sweat and alcohol. Behind you, Natasha rubs her neck. She's used to you two fighting, but she didn't expect it to happen now.

She hesitates, then steps closer. You stiffen at the feeling of her arms around you. Her biceps press against your sides, solid and familiar, and her lips meet your neck. It's enough to make you stop humming.

"Don't be mad", she mumbles, her thumb brushing along the underside of your chest. "You don't want to be mad, and you know it."

"You're a fucking manipulator."

"Only for you." Natasha kisses your neck again. Her hand sneaks higher upwards, cupping your breast and squeezing it. "Enjoy the show. Ignore me."

You scoff, but she doesn't budge. Having a crowd never threw her off, and you're fully aware of that. The library was mild compared to some of the places she's initiated sex in before.

"I would", you say, trying to peel her hand off, "if you weren't such a pain."

"Me?" She nuzzles your jaw. "Funny. You let this 'pain' fuck you four times this week. And counting."

You let out a laugh that signals her death is imminent. It may have been a while since that night at the party — where you slept together for the first time, tipsy and desperate in the sweat-stenched air of Pietro's room — but being reminded of it still sets you off. You'd sworn yourself you wouldn't end up as one of her one-night stands, but you fell for the whole basketball player-shtick anyway.

The worst part is that, even if you get a little nauseous when you think about her abandoning you like all her other disposable hookups, you'll probably still drag her home and into your bed after the concert. You're almost certain you'll end the night with a new dent in the wall behind your bed.

"I'll kill you", you hiss, trying to peel her hand off. "You can't grope your way out of this."

"Hey", she whispers. "Your favorite song."

Unfortunately, her quick distraction works. You look up when you hear Fast Times playing, and suddenly, you give up and let your body do its thing. You melt into her arms and stop resisting the natural course of order.

From that moment on, you forget about the fight. You don't even think about it anymore. When the song comes to an end, you're already over it enough to turn around and tug her into a kiss.

It's always been like this. First you're fighting, then you're suddenly shoving stacks of books off the desk. You can't recall talking an issue out even once. You doubt she has enough emotional maturity to even attempt that.

The vodka and orange juice earlier left a taste on her tongue. At first, everything seems to be under your control — you cup her face, keep her close, try your best to have this remain appropriate. Calloused fingers tug at the fabric of your dress and adjust it. She feels the heat beneath, her self-control wavering. It's a slippery slope from passionate to desperate.

Natasha nods her head to deepen the kiss. Teeth bump, and her hands start bunching up your dress a little. Before she can expose your underwear to an audience of almost 20 thousand people, you grip her wrists and keep her from pushing the fabric up more.

"No", you mumble. She pulls away, breathing heavily, and frowns. "Not now."

"Later?", she asks, rubbing her lips and smudging the lipstick you got all over them. You roll your eyes and shove your hand against her chest. "You were thinking it too."

You shake your head and turn back around, ignoring her as she curses quietly. "That's just you."

She accepts defeat because she has no other choice. Part of her knows she'll end up in your bed — she always does, even if you're arguing. She's never thought of herself as irresistible, but you've gotten close to letting her believe just that.

Her body feels as sweaty as yours as it wraps around you again. You smell sweat and cologne, Read Your Mind is playing, and you both think too much.

You stop paying attention. Her mouth is on your neck, her arms around your waist. The crowd surges every time the lights change. Flashing lights and bass drops blur together just like the songs.

You sing half the lyrics, mumble the rest. Natasha takes a picture of you, then a video. She never lets go of you, though.

"How many songs is that now?", she mumbles against your ear. Her hand runs down your arm until her fingers nudge against your bracelet.

"I stopped counting", you admit. Coincidence just started playing, and judging by how everything has turned into a blur, you're assuming it must've been a quite a few. "My feet hurt."

Natasha tries to sneak a glance at your legs. You're in high heels, but you're still a head shorter than her. The heels are probably killing you by now. She wouldn't be surprised if you ended up with blisters, especially after being nudged around by a crowd all night.

She doesn't understand why you'd put up with the pain just in order to look taller, but it's not her right to judge. Instead, she nods at her boots.

"Take them off", she says. You give her an unimpressed look. "Just do it."

"The floor is gross", you complain, already angling one leg to slip off your high heel. Natasha taps your waist. "What?"

"Stand on my boots."

You pause and stare. She stares back, then rolls her eyes and grabs the heel you're holding. She's not about to argue, because she knows she'd lose. Besides, if she lets you talk too much, you might start saying things that'll scare her. It's better if you both shut up.

"You're kidding", you say, but she's already scooped you off the ground. "Let go!"

"Take off the other one", she insists. She can already feel the sweat accumulate at the back of her neck. "Jesus, hurry up a little."

"I thought I was a lightweight", you hiss. You take off your other high heel, anyway. The leather of her boots feels cold as you stand on them. Natasha loosens her grip on you and exhales quietly.

"Comfy?", she asks, fingers drumming against your stomach.

You let out a begrudging hum and keep staring at the stage. You're not about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she saved you from being unable to walk the next day. Knowing her, she'd use it as leverage. Or to piss you off.

Natasha doesn't really mind your attitude. Not in that moment. You're standing on the toes of her boots, body flush with hers. She has the emotional capacity of a spoon, but there aren't many things she likes more than feeling you this close.

Another song ends. Then Juno starts, and you forget that you're supposed to act like you're mad at her. It's the one song you keep replaying, whether you're in the car or in your dorm. You've requested it at parties (and made a friend connect your phone to the speakers so you could play it if they refused), you added it to Natasha's playlist when she wasn't looking and you obsessively watched the different positions whenever someone posted them.

Natasha's unaware. You tend to doomscroll after sex, a thin sheen of sweat still coating your body, and lift your phone enough to make her see as well. She's tuckered out usually, with her eyes half closed and her face resting against the crook of your neck. She has no clue, but you show her the positions anyway.

"What's that?", she asks, squeezing her arms around your middle. "Why's everyone cheering?"

You briefly glance at her, lips twitching. "Don't know?"

The look she gives you makes you laugh. You don't need her to say it out loud — she's about to see, anyway. You're not too worried, as you've probably done worse than whatever position Sabrina is about to get into on stage.

You watch Sabrina run down the stage and get on her knees so she's almost sitting on the floor. Her knees stay bent for a second as she bounces on nothing a few times. The corners of your mouth tug into a little frown — you're not sure about the logistics behind it. Natasha, however, feels her brain turn into a lump of mush as she realizes what's happening.

It's a sex position. She shouldn't be too shocked, especially since she isn't one to reject experimenting with those, but she's already managed to picture you doing the same thing.

"What do you think?", you ask. She cranes her neck to get a better look at the stage, ignoring you. Her hand squeezes your side like you're about to evaporate and ruin her fantasy of trying this. If she hadn't already been toying with the idea of going home with you, she definitely would've made that decision now.

Sabrina's jumped back up and returned to performing. Natasha finally snaps out of it, but the image of you doing that very thing is burned into her brain. "That- yeah, no, that one's happening. We're doing that. Tonight."

You scoff. "Perv."

"She's creative", she mumbles. "We could be creative. Why aren't we?"

"You're disgusting", you retort, rolling your eyes.

She doesn't argue. She just shrugs, knowing you'll probably end up trying anyway. On stage, Sabrina is back to singing. You're not aware of it yet, but the lyrics plant a little seed in you. One that'll end up growing until you can't resist that itch anymore.

You turn your head to look at her over your shoulder. Natasha almost leans in to kiss you, but there's a glimmer in your eyes that makes her stop. She knows better than to push, as her being nosy has lead to issues in the past, but you have no problem bringing it up anyway.

You lean in closer, so close she can smell the chewing gum you popped into your mouth half an hour ago. Your eyes are dazed from both the vodka and the concert, and she can feel her fingers twitch with the urge to drag you somewhere. She doesn't know where, but anywhere without an audience would work.

She's sweaty, she's tipsy, she's horny. She didn't think you could make it worse. You prove her wrong just like every time.

"Want to give me a baby, too?"

For a split second, all air is knocked out of her lungs. She freezes, eyes wide and hands glued to your sides. Brain gone, body still. Her voice? Nowhere to be found. The music drowns out every thought that's running circles in her mind like a panicked rabbit.

Finally, she lets out a laugh. When she doesn't know what to say, she uses humor to deflect and pivots into touch. Distracting herself is key, otherwise she'll look like an idiot. Little does she know this moment will haunt her all the way to an important basketball game a few weeks later.

"What, now?", she asks, already kissing your neck. "Because I'd rather give you something else right now."

You lift your shoulder a little when her tongue brushes against a ticklish spot on your neck. "Smooth."

"I'm not joking. The bathroom isn't too shabby."

You shake your head and look at the stage again. Still, she keeps all her attention on you. Your shoulder is littered with kisses, her hands roam up and down, quiet curses escape her. You barely hear them, but they add to the thrumming inside you anyway. Alcohol, music, an idea that could either ruin everything or get something entirely different started.

The song has ended, thankfully. Natasha's head hasn't stopped spinning though, and you're somewhere between exhaustion and an inexplicable rush of giddy stupidity. The latter is intensified by the alcohol coursing through your veins. You didn't have much of it, but its effect is stronger thanks to the oppressive heat inside the venue.

You turn your head enough to be able to kiss her. She sucks on your tongue and gropes your stomach, feeling the heat beneath. Please Please Please is playing, you grab her face and deepen the kiss, and Natasha feels blood rush into her lower half. As if the heat wasn't bad enough, it's now accompanied by the recurring pressure in her dick.

Her hand slips lower with each passing second until she reaches what she's looking for. Her thumb brushes the curve of your ass and Natasha sighs, trying to tug you even closer.

No matter what you do or where you are, you always seem to end up in the same situation — with a hard-on pressing against you like a quiet reminder that this is what your relationship is doomed to be like.

You tilt your head as you part from her. She's seconds from bringing up the bathroom idea again, you can see it written all over her face. If you as much as look at her the wrong way, you're ending up with your back against a bathroom wall with sharpie all over it.

"No."

Natasha clenches and unclenches her jaw. She should've expected that answer, but part of her was too hopeful. Rejection therapy isn't something she ever had to get acquainted with, which led to her believing 'yes' would be the standard answer for just about everything.

"The concert will be over soon", you add, pulling away from her grasp. You step off her boots and onto the cold floor, grabbing your high heels again. Somehow, you managed not to lose them.

"Right", she says, watching you put on your heels again. The girl next to you bumps into your side, and Natasha keeps herself from tugging you back into her chest. "Got any plans for later?"

"You're trying to come home with me", you state, not wasting a second on your reply. She bites the insides of her cheeks. "Is that why you wanted to come here? Because it'd lead to sex?"

"You seemed like you wanted it too", she tries to defend herself. She's not sure she means what she said, but it's too late. The words hang between you, Don't Smile is playing and time is running out. You had a fight not too long ago — she doesn't want this to result in another one. She doesn't want to end this night with you being mad at her.

All you do is stare for a moment, then turn back around. Natasha runs a hand through her hair as she tries to come up with a way to salvage this. You still have to survive the car ride home, and honestly, the idea of dropping you off and leaving afterwards kills her. She shouldn't want this as much as she does — if her teammates knew, it'd be over for her —, but she can't exactly change it.

You feel her fingertips trace your shoulder blade. Nails rake over skin, fingers slip under the strap of your dress. She tugs gently, with just enough strength for you to notice. The strap snaps back against your shoulder. You don't react, not visibly, but your resolve weakens.

"Don't be mad", she says, hooking her finger under the thin piece of fabric again. "I'll buy you something at the merch booth."

"I have money", you say, staring at the stage. Her fingers find the zipper on your dress and give it a light tug. "Keep going and I'll call an Uber."

Natasha hesitates. The song is coming to an end, which means that she only has minutes left. Words tend to be her favored way of getting out of uncomfortable situations. She's ended arguments being a touchy smooth talker, murmuring bullshit until the other caved. With you, it's never been different, but there's starting to be more behind it.

"Smile", she says, wrapping a strand of your hair around her finger. "Smile and I'll kiss you."

You ignore the way your skin tingles when she reaches for the strap of your dress again. She tugs at it like it's a lifeline, like touching your body will make you rewind to the night were things were easy and hot and mutual. It's a flirty game, and she's using it to try and charm her way back into your good graces.

"I need you to mean that", you say, still not looking. It's like you just froze time, and the concert, for her.

She's stunned for a moment. Because she does mean it, even if everything about her screams she doesn't. There's no other explanation as to why she'd be putting herself through this otherwise. She has her pick of girls who'd sleep with her. Ever since becoming the basketball's team captain, that number has only increased. And yet, she's standing in a venue full of glitter and makeup products she couldn't name for the life of it.

Somehow, she enjoys being here anyway.

"What if I do?"

"You don't", you insist, your back stubbornly turned toward her. "I don't think you're capable of that."

Natasha rolls her eyes and steps closer. Her hand cups your waist, her front is right up against your back. Her idea of apologizing includes undoing a bra, but you still have an audience.

You don't try to escape her touch. It's not like there's much space around you to do that, but she feels something light up inside her regardless. Her hand curves around your middle and, when you fail to pull away once more, her lips brush your ear.

"I mean it", she mutters, too reluctantly for you to believe she doesn't mean it. It's lies that come easy to her — the truth scares her. "Now kiss me. I don't want you to be mad at me."

You keep your eyes glued to a random spot on stage, but they close for a split second. Inside you, your heartbeat stutters and the petty urge to make her grovel fades. You don't forgive easily — not usually, not when it comes to Natasha. You're already calculating the perfect moment to turn around, though.

You give up on that last bit of resistance when Espresso starts playing. You glance at her and meet her gaze, and paired with the music and the screaming crowd, it almost feels ridiculous. The fight was unnecessary, just like all the other ones you've had so far were.

"I'm sorry", she finally mumbles, licking her lips and looking at your own. "I'm stupid. I know that. Don't take that Uber."

A switch flips and, suddenly, your resolve crumbles quicker than you want it to. Natasha knows she's out of the woods when you roll your eyes, so she taps your lower back and cracks a smile.

"You forgot the kiss", she reminds you.

"Did I smile?"

She shakes her head. Her fingers drag over clothed skin, tapping and curling, and you squirm. You resist the tickling sensation about five seconds, then you let that smile slip that she's been waiting for. Natasha doesn't get to enjoy the view for long, though, as you immediately put on a frown.

"Fuck you."

She laughs, already pulling you closer. You get on your tiptoes right as she leans in. Her lips press against yours, soft and firm at once. You grip the front of her shirt, the fabric spilling out between your fingers. If she didn't know any better, she'd think you're angry about not being kissed this whole time — you're up on your toes just to kiss her back, at least. Natasha convinces herself that counts for something.

People yell around you, confetti falls like thick snowflakes in all kinds of colors. Drinks spill when the crowd moves and makes everyone bump into each other. You hear someone start to list names as they tell the audience to make noise for everyone, but you're both at a point at which you're ignoring it.

By the time you part, you're both out of breath. Natasha's silently swearing that she'll never pretend she isn't way too deep into this, and you're just trying to remember which way the exit was.

"Shit", you mumble, letting people squeeze past you as they start trickling out of the venue.

Natasha swallows and nods, her arm curled around your waist. "I fucking hate when you ignore me."

"Don't give me a reason to, then", you say. You glance at your wrist and touch it, a frown on your face. "I think I lost my bracelet."

"What?" She looks up and blinks, then grabs your hand to confirm. "Oh. Fuck. What's it look like?"

You start searching the floor — looking for the pink beads, the little stars dangling from it — but it's difficult to stay focused over all the noise. The chattering coming from all sides is almost louder than the concert itself, and you're cut off by people who try to get past you but don't quite succeed.

Natasha frowns as she helps you. It’s your favorite bracelet — it's the one you wore when you first kissed. When you first slept together, too. And now, the only thing tying you to that night in Pietro's bedroom might be gone.

Right as she opens her mouth to say something, a girl next to you steps on something. Whatever object her heel landed on crunches loudly, and both of you freeze.

"My bracelet", you groan, immediately continuing to search the floor. It seems impossible with all the people walking by and blocking your vision. “I loved that thing! It was so expensive, too!"

"Well...why'd you wear it?", she asks, panicking as well. But the object on the floor is a cheap pair of reading glasses, with the shards scattered around it. She lets out a breath. "Alright, you can calm down."

"'Calm down'? It's still gone, you moron!"

Natasha shuts up. She knows better than to keep going. As you continue searching the floor, she pads after you and tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her fingertips brush against something cold and round.

She stops in her tracks and hesitates. Finally, she pulls out the bracelet. It takes you five seconds to notice she's not walking anymore. Like a switch flipped, you go from panicked to pissed.

"What, you're going to just stand there? Of course. It's gone, and you're just going to- oh, fuck you", you hiss. "It's gone!"

Natasha rolls one of the beads between her fingers. She hesitates again — you look like you're about to tear someone's head off, and it'd most likely be hers; but when you whip around again, she can't help it anymore.

"It's not gone", she blurts. "I have it."

You feel everything inside you be put on hold for a second. You don't believe her in that initial second, but then she's pulled out the exact bracelet you were looking for. With the same pink beads and history attached to it, now dangling from her fingers.

Finally, you let out a breath. You're by her side in a split second to grab the bracelet and give it a quick glance, then you put it on.

"This the one?", she mumbles, carefully watching your reaction. You nod and look up. Your hand cups the back of her head faster than she can register, and only when the bracelet gets tangled in her hair does she realize you're kissing her.

You pull away, staring at her. The air between you is charged with the afterbuzz of the concert and the mouthwarm of the kiss. You weren't happy about her suggesting that she come home with you after the show, but now, anything else wouldn't seem right.

"Yeah. That's the one. Let's just..." You nod at the exit. "Let's go."

Natasha nods and puts her hand on your lower back, even though there's no crowd she needs to guide you through. Outside, it's dark and still hot from the day. Cars speed down the highway nearby, and on the other side of the parking lot, two shadows are nestled against the side of a car.

"My dorm or yours?", you ask, trying not to be too obvious. Natasha smiles and lets her hand drop a bit lower.

"Yours."

. . .

Music is playing from your old portable speaker. The room smells like the chicken wings Natasha picked up on the way home. She's on your bed, heart-eyed and silent, as you're sitting at your desk with a vanity mirror in front of you.

"You're taking long", she mumbles, stretching. "Thought we had a deal."

"There was no deal", you reply, using a napkin soaked in makeup remover to clean your face. She sighs and rolls over onto her side. "You being gross doesn't equal a deal."

"It has before."

You give her a pointed look through the mirror. She raises her eyebrows, caught somewhere between flustered and horny. The concert wasn't long — and yet, it feels like she's been practicing involuntary celibacy for years.

"You want to try it, too", she adds. Your mind jumps back to the Juno position and you clench your jaw. Suddenly frustrated, you shift in your chair. Natasha notices, of course. "Don't lie."

"We've fought twice tonight", you point out, desperately trying to ignore the fact you're gripping the desk with one hand. You can't ignore it too well, though. Neither can she. "Don't let there be a third time."

Natasha rolls her eyes and props her upper body up on her forearm. Her hair is in a low bun that's slowly coming loose, and somehow, both her shirt and her cheek are speckled with glitter from your dress. You're still taking off your makeup, but she's got something else to take off in mind.

You should be distracted by the makeup remover dripping down your neck, but you're too caught up on the fact that there's someone lying on your bed. You're both still sweaty, still stuck in that weird, slightly disorienting haze caused by the bracelet. You move your foot, which was crossed at the ankle with your other one, and knock over one of your high heels.

"Are you still mad?", she suddenly asks. It's as unexpected as the cars outside, their tires screeching just a split second after she stops talking. You turn around and stare. "Is that a yes?"

"Guess, since you're so good at it."

Natasha rolls her eyes and slumps back into the pillow. You ball up the napkins on your desk and toss them into the trashcan, then you get up. The second she hears a zipper being pulled down, she lifts her head again.

Your back is turned to her. She watches the dress fall to the floor and, seeing more and more skin be revealed like something at a museum, feels blood rush south. Her boxers tent and she gives you a slightly desperate look when you reach for a pair of shorts.

"What?", you ask, eyebrows furrowed. She isn't sure whether you're irritated or genuinely confused, which throws her off more.

"You got glitter in your hair", she says innocently. Her fingers are twisting the hem of her shirt, her cheeks are dusted pink. She can pretend all she wants, but you know the tiny telltale signs by heart. That same girl who's thrown up on court and ghosted half the campus and flirted her way into your pants — she's nervous now.

You take out your earrings and pad to the windowsill to leave them there. She watches every move like she fully expects you to join her any minute. It's better to be prepared, which is why she feels for the thin square object in the pocket of her shorts.

"I got an idiot in my bed, too", you mumble. "Don't see me complaining about that."

Natasha, slumped into the mattress like she's a wounded soldier, perks up when you make your way to her side. She reaches out her hand and her fingertips graze your thigh, and when you sit down, she finally straightens up fully for the first time since entering your dorm.

"You brought this idiot here", she reminds you, her finger hooking into the strap of your bra. "You're so far away."

"You're kidding."

"I'm really not." She tugs at the bra strap and you sigh. Her fingers run down your arm until they reach your wrist — or rather, the bracelet dangling from it. "Do you hate me?"

"I'm thinking about it", you deadpan. She sees right through your lie, as usually, so your words don't have much of an effect. She keeps tugging, and you keep caving; once you've swung one leg over her lap, one knee on each side of her hips, it's over. You're still buzzing from the concert, and the bracelet, and there aren't many other things that'd be fitting for this situation.

You wrap her necklace around your index finger, pulling at it gently. She nods her head to press a kiss to your knuckle.

"Don't seem like you hate me", she mumbles. "You're still here."

"My standards have lowered significantly." Your lips twitch when she looks up, her eyebrows furrowed. "They weren't high to begin with."

Natasha huffs quietly, but her smile matches yours. She wraps one arm around your waist, biceps solid and familiar, and draws you closer. You don't mean to laugh, or brush your lips against hers, but it happens anyway. You pull away and she hums, staring at you.

You let out a breath. Your hands run into her hair to tilt her head back tugging just a little. Natasha feels the intention of keeping it casual fall apart, and to combat the feeling of anxiety creeping up, she kisses you again.

It's not much. Just soft presses of lips, sighs between them. Mouths open as the kisses grow sharper, a little more desperate. You feel the wet patch on her boxers before she does. You pull away enough to see the smudged lipstick on her mouth. You removed most of your makeup, but leaving that on was intentional.

One hand gripping her collar, you yank her closer. Hot lips press against yours, stiff due to her initial state of surprise, but then she kisses you back again.

Her hands settle on your waist after a moment. She brushes her tongue along your bottom lip, and when you feel her boner press against the inner part of your thigh, you roll your hips against hers. Your knees grind into the mattress and both of you are out of breath way too quickly.

"Hey", she mumbles, pulling away just enough to be able to speak. "You want this?"

"We're past asking, I think."

Natasha exhales and nods. Her hand curves around your back and up your spine, finding the clasp of your bra. It comes undone, the pressure around your chest loosens, and you let the straps slide off your arms. The piece of fabric ends up on the other side of the room, forgotten about before it even hits the floor.

Her hand is inside your shorts before you manage to kiss her again. You wiggle against her fingers, cursing quietly.

"Jesus, you're wet already?", she mumbles.

"You're the one dripping", you shoot back. Her hand moves slowly, too slowly for the both of you. You swear again, clutching her shirt so hard she feels the pressure around her chest.

Her fingers flex inside you. She keeps working you open until you have to clasp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from whining. Just seeing that happen is enough for Natasha to want to take it slow, but her boxers hurt from the pressure, so she pulls out again.

"Can you not?", you complain, her hand stuck in the waistband of your shorts for a moment. She raises her eyebrows.

"Still hate me?"

"You're on thin ice", you mutter. She puts her hands on your waist and guides you up, making your frown fade. "I'll kick you out."

Natasha glances at you, and somehow, she's able to make you feel bad. It's a guilt trip, heading straight for the spot that'll make you stop whining. Unfortunately, it works.

Once she realizes she's won, she looks much more content already. You're too impatient to put up much of a fight. There are always other ways to take revenge, after all.

"What's your plan?", you cave. She hums and lifts you up again, manhandling you as she pleases.

"Turn around", she says. "I want to try it."

Your back is already turned towards her when she says that. The moment you remember what she's talking about, you feel heat shoot up your spine and then back down between your legs. Natasha tugs at your shorts and waits for you to nod, then she helps you pull them off all the way.

It's hot in your dorm, summer heat clinging to both of you. With her only sitting there in a sports bra now, you can feel how sweaty and flushed she is. You straddle her facing away and lean back against her chest.

"Alright", she breathes, her hands on your waist. You lift your hips and feel her tip nudge into you. "There you go."

"Shut the fuck up", you moan, trying to sink down. The angle isn't making things easier for you — getting adjusted to her still hurts. "Don't move, don't move-"

"I'm not", she husks. Her fingers curl into your sides, leaving little crescents behind as she guides you. "Come on, just a little more."

She rocks up into you, bottoming out. Your hips are pinned in place. The bed creaks quietly and you moan.

The thrusts are long at first, calculated. You're still sitting up, still trying to take each roll of her hips. Her nose is against your neck as she breathes in, perfume and a hint of cherry gloss making it seem like a fever dream in the late of summer.

With her hands still guiding you, she starts going slower. The angle hits deep, the spots are sweet enough to make you gasp quietly. She's not thrusting, she's grinding. It's not rough, but relentless, and she feels her self control slip with each noise you make.

Then, you clench. Natasha curses as she barely stops herself from coming on the spot.

"Shit", she grunts, her voice low and lost between the slick, unhurried sounds that fill the room. Mentally, she's thanking Sabrina for introducing her to this. "Don't do that."

"Come on", you say. You're barely able to speak at this point. "This was your idea. You were so cocky earlier."

Natasha's forehead is glued to your shoulder. You lift one arm and move your hand behind you, cupping the back of her head. The bracelet around your wrist nudges her ear and gets tangled in a few flyaway hairs.

Her hands are grinding you down, her hips are rolling up into you. The room smells like sex and sweat, and when one of her hands suddenly starts roaming your body, you know it's over for you.

She presses down on your stomach, cups your breast, moves it all the way up to your throat. She barely wraps her hand around it before letting go again. It drifts to the aching spot between your thighs, where she's still buried inside of you, and she starts circling it without warning.

"Fuck", you stammer, one knee jerking. "Fuck, Nat-"

She ignores how your fingers tangle into her hair and tug. Her arm locks around your waist, keeping you pressed against her. She feels her own outline against her forearm and almost loses it.

At this point, it's almost too much. Natasha's been hanging on by a thread for hours, and you're not doing better. She tugs you fully into her lap as she keeps grinding up, sweat trickling down her bicep and her hair curling from the moisture.

"The bracelet", you moan, melting against her. "How did you find it?"

"I didn't." She makes a noise that sounds close to a sob. You'd laugh — it's you who did it, after all — but her hips jerk up and rid your mind of any thoughts. "I took it."

"Oh", is all you say. Her hand keeps working your clit, and each thrust goes deeper and deeper until she's all but grinding in spot. Her words linger, but you're too far gone to react.

The buildup is sudden and intense. She thrusts up one more time, her arm pulling you down as she rocks up, and that's it. Heat floods you, hitting each nerve ending. She spills, your back arches, and the bracelet almost rips a few of her hairs out when you adjust your arm.

"Shit", she pants, still nuzzling your neck. "That hurt."

"You're the one complaining?", you whine. You're twitching with aftershocks, nearly wheezed while talking — you could've sworn she'd rip a hole into you. Yet, she's talking about 'hurt' like she's the one who experienced it.

"Your bracelet, dumbass. It’s pulling my hair."

"Oh." You swallow and gently remove your hand. Her hand hasn't moved from between your legs. Her thumb keeps circling your clit like she's about to initiate something else. But you're sticky and trembling and in desperate need of a shower. "Get out of me before I cry."

You hear her swallow, feel the kiss on your shoulder. She hesitates before pulling out, slowly, and wipes your thighs with the back of her hand.

"I didn't mean to", she confesses, grabbing a tissue with her clean(-ish) hand. "I don't know why I did it. Guess it reminded me of...things."

"The party", you state. She shoots you a glare. "Don't look at me like that! You took it like some weird creep."

When she doesn’t say anything, all you can do is scoff and get up. Natasha, feeling like an idiot for confessing while too deep inside you and too pussy-drunk to form a single coherent sentence, jumps up and follows after you. She tries crossing her arms behind her head as you walk to the shower on wobbly legs, but even that  doesn't feel right anymore.

"You need help?", she finally asks. You grab your robe and head for the door.

"You need to leave", you say, hand on the doorknob. "You know that bracelet is important to me!"

"I know", she says slowly. She's seen it on you during the party, and then consistently after you started hooking up more. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad."

You roll your eyes and step out into the hallway. Natasha groans and puts on her shorts before walking after you, the floor cold beneath her feet. She makes sure not to step into some old chewing gum and then tries getting ahold of you.

The towel nearly slips. She retracts her hand like she touched the earth's core itself.

"What is wrong with you-"

"I wasn't thinking", she quickly says, fingertips grazing your wrist. "I swear."

"No", you shoot back. "You were thinking too much. See the issue?"

She doesn't understand at first, then she opens her mouth — and shuts it again. Because you're right, again. You're calling her out, which she both hates and loves. It's something that no one's ever done before, at least not like this. Not in a way that made her listen.

"And the concert", you add. "What was that about? Did you want to do something nice, or was it about fucking me again?"

"Okay", she stammers, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't want to go off topic, but we're in the middle of the hallway, and it's late at night, and-"

"You don't want everyone to find out?", you snap. Her eyes widen immediately. "Little late for that, since under the bleachers seemed just fine for you."

Heat creeps up her neck and all the way to her ears. She rubs her eyes — if she'd just given up on the ticket hunt, she wouldn't be standing here right now — as she tries to find the right words. Somehow, that's where she always ends up: in some weird headspace that removes her ability to communicate verbally.

The easiest way to deal with this would be to drag you back into bed. But you don't want that — you'd probably kill her, in fact — and neither does she. Her only option is to find the right words, even if it seems impossible.

"It wasn't about sex", she mumbles, each syllable feeling like it's clinging to her vocal cords and refusing to let go. "You know that."

You shake your head and adjust your towel. Someone down the hall opens their door, but it shuts again almost right away. "You know, believing you is one of the biggest mistakes someone could make. So why should I?"

"No", she admits. "You shouldn't. But I want you to, anyway."

"It's not about what you want", you reply, fixing your towel again. You almost let go, and she immediately grabs the edge to keep it in place. "It's about being an adult. There's a thing called 'emotional intelligence', but I guess you won't even look at that until you can stick your dick in it."

"You're emotionally intelligent", she says unhelpfully. "Does that count?"

Another stare. Then you're headed for the bathroom, and Natasha has to follow suit again. Why she's fighting, she pretends not to know. Even if everything she does is telling her why.

The water starts running, and she joins you without asking. You don't bother trying to kick her out. It wouldn't work anyway, so you let her lean against the wall of the shower cubicle.

She exhales as you reach for your loofah. It smells like almond and vanilla, but for the first time ever, even that doesn't turn her on. She shifts and then pushes away from the wall to grab the loofah.

"What-"

"I'll be more thorough", she mutters, moving to stand behind you. "Don't move too much."

You scoff, but don't bother arguing. The rough material of the loofah is running along your shoulders already anyway, so you stand there and let her coat your skin suds. It's just the loofah at first — scrubbing away sweat and dead skin cells, cleaning you of every dumb thing Natasha's said that night.

Her hand follows, but it's not the usual little game of trying to get you into bed. Suddenly, she's tracing shoulder blades and your spine and gently poking the spot where the nail of her index finger left a faint mark.

"That's me."

"I know", you say simply. "It's not like there's anyone else."

Natasha nods and lets out a breath. She returns to washing your back, your arms, your sides. Her hand cups your waist and she leans in to kiss the back of your neck. You freeze, then relax enough for her to repeat it.

"I'm sorry", she murmurs, her lips against your skin. Her hand trails down your arm, right to the bracelet. "There's a reason. I swear. But you said it, I don't do well with the sappy stuff."

"Natasha."

"I like what it stands for", she says, slipping her fingers between the bracelet and your wrist. "It reminds you of something. It reminds me, too. I should've just asked for it."

You breathe in and out. Your fingers curl, your eyes close. Her free hand touches your lower stomach before splaying out on it.

She's not making sense. She never did. But you move your hand away from her grasp and remove the bracelet from your wrist. This time, you give it to her on purpose. It looks small in her palm.

"That's yours", she says dumbly.

"You stole it", you say, turning around again to rinse off. "If you can do that, you can accept it from me."

"Yes, but..." She shakes her head and looks up. "Why?"

Not even you know. Not really. All you know is that you’re tired, and if she wants to have a piece of you, she can have it. And maybe, she’ll figure out how to take care of it first.

You don’t tell her. Instead, you shrug, the water running down your body and removing all the soap suds. She tries her best not to check you out, so she quickly looks at the bracelet again.

"I want you to have it", you say, twisting the shower knob and making the water stop running. "Do with it what you will."

She watches you as you leave, your footsteps quiet in the darkened room. She doesn't follow — not this time. She hears the door to the communal bathroom close, then she glances at the bracelet again. It had one memory attached to it before: sex, at a party, mainly resulting from a game of 'spin the bottle'. Now, that may have changed.

Do with it what you will.

Natasha doesn't wear it. Not now, that is. But she keeps it in her wallet, next to her toothbrush, on her dashboard.

When she does decide to give you her jersey, she wears it beneath the sweatband on her wrist. It's hard for anyone else to see the faint outline of it — yet she does, anyway.

[viorel-lette]

Is it controversial for me to think Pure Vanilla would be Bobby coded 😭 i think he fits the happy girldad manager role perfectly… (I know he’s probably Rumi in your au though?)

From what I've seen of Bobby aka best manager ever, I don't think its controversial at all! I think the manager role really suits him :]

Also woah I never even thought of making it into an AU :O I kinda just drew the beast x saja boys for some crossover fanart funsies but hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[PS! With how popular crossovers with this movie is, there's a chungus possibility this has already been done before, so simply consider this as my own little version among a bunch of others :] ]

With that aside, here's a little looksies on The Beasts outfits!

Since we've established that the beasts are the Saja boys, then that obviously leaves the ancients being Huntrix. And this could either go in two ways:

(1), huntrix are all the five ancients with PV being Rumi/the leader OR (2), they could consist of only the the three ancient girlies! (GCheese, HBerry, and WLily) with Lily being Rumi

And hear me out, I prefer the second option more and here's why:

Lily wears a braid just like Rumi :D

If we're basing this option lore wise, this can sorta click because of how Shmilk and Lily somewhat relate to each other more with the whole knowledge seeking, truth awareness, and fall to corruption— just like how Rumi and Jinu understood each other due to both of them being demons (half on Rumi's case)

Expanding this point ^, just as how Rumi is only half demon while Jinu is fully one, Lily and Shmilk could have a closer dynamic similar to these two with how Lily had corrupted but seperated and Shmilk having fully corrupted.

Also this paves the way for PV to be their Bobby/manager :D— AND! Dark Cacao will be the group's security personnel bodyguard or CPO (Close Protection Officer)! These guys are usually in charge of the idols safety, particularly when their in public or surrounded by fans

[Planned to include their designs here, but I think I'll instead make a separate post just for them, detailing their designs and other possible headcanons I can think of :D]

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Gwi-ma is Dark Enchantress! Tried adding bits of red on the beasts' "Your Idol" fits as a little hint to that.

The previous demon hunters (Or I guess beast hunters?), specifically Celine, in this crossover will be one of the Witches (kind of a little call back to how the witches forked the beasts)

"Wait so with Shmillk being Jinu and Lily, Rumi, doesn't this mean this AU contains ShadowLily?" It can but I suppose not necessarily?? Lily and Shmilks dynamic in this crossover can be taken in any way! Though I'm a pretty big fan of platonic relationships and these two are my favorite shaylas so in a way, their dynamic here to me can be summed up with this one scene:

Their frenimies with besty vibes your honor 😔

ALSO also—

Black Sapphire as Sussie (the sassy little magpie) and Candy Apple as Derpy (the tiger, the kibbie, the blue yellow-eyed floof)!!

And hhh that's about it :D thinking of calling this silly AU "K-pop Beast Hunters" or something akdkskwh idk 😭— and thanks for the ask Anon! A new crossover has been crossed🗿

[barcapix]

🌺 angst 12 & 14 with oscar

❀ Ultraviolence Radio - Oscar Piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

prompt/s: “i wish i could undo everything i said, but the damage is already done + the hardest part isn’t the goodbye. it’s knowing i’ll never hear your voice again.”

a/n: gotta start working on my angst gng its not my strong point at all wtaf. thank you for the request though🫶🏼 (this isn’t a mini fic like its supposed to be but oh well) + why do i think this would be so good as a chaptered fic idk.

warnings: purely fictional, no actual relation to life events + mentions of crashing. one use of y/n.

OSCAR HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE PEACEFUL TYPE TO FEUD, no yelling, no wild animatic gestures nor endless hours of strings of curses being shot up into the already-tense air.

he kills you with silence instead.

the worst part about it? he weaponises it so well. that’s what stings.

as mclaren’s primary comms engineer, you were assigned to oscar’s side of the garage rather than lando’s. probably due to the assumption and suspicions when they’d caught you mid-makeout in the sim room with a door that had no lock and a hidden light switch.

between you both, this, whatever you call it, a fling maybe—was never made official to yourselves nor the public. young adults in love but too busy with their job, too afraid of what defining it might do.

and right now, it was definitely far from being official.

during the race at silverstone, you’d told him to, “back off, oscar. if you push now, you’re going to lose the line. don’t be stupid.”which you thought warned to protect him from leclerc, but oscar rather saw it as an order.

you should of thought before you spoke—when does he ever being liked told what to do?

reasonably but rather harshly, since then, he’s avoided you—completely. after the race ended, he didn’t take his helmet off before walking away, purely because you were stood on the sidelines with an apology on the tip of your tongue.

to add fuel to the fire, oscar denied all of your calls, voicemails that had your throat clasping with unshed tears, and at one point, you swore he ducked into the media pen just to avoid you in the corridor.

and every single-time? it stung worse than the previous.

then, suddenly your problems weren’t so small anymore. the crash at spa turned ugly. the crash, point be reinforced, caused by his inability to listen to your instructions, and his vehement desire to win; the radio turns cold, lifeless and inefficient.

the buzz of oscar’s radio is blank, and as you look at the broadcast display, lumps of metal scatter out on the track. the papaya colours are fragmented, tires lose and a brief stream of smoke curls into the air like a disaster signal.

you squeeze your eyes shut; your hands were folded like a prayer.

hours after the race, the one that began in the afternoon, but you found yourself lingering in the garage until dusk. you don’t even clock how your headset is still being worn. the once lively, papaya garage is half torn down; most of the team has retreated and unsurprisingly, the papaya enthusiasm has stilled.

better yet, your eyes haven’t left his telemetry once.

the first thing his teammate, lando, had done was rush to console you, even if his suit was still clinging to his torso and sweat sunken into his tanned skin.

“he’s alright you know,” lando whispers, his hand hovers on your back, eyes searching your features. “osc’s okay, he’s stable.”

“but still unconscious?”

lando slowly nods, his lips thinning into a line. unbeknownst to him, the brit isn’t aware of the feud oscar left you with. nobody knew.

you should of felt relieved. so why did you feel even more guilty? why wasn’t that enough?

days pass, and the calendar you’ve been marking with a ‘op81’ reaches seven days. now in hungary, a different garage but with the same lifeless quiet over the comms. you’re still here and still waiting. for what? something that started as hope but now feels like fading into something too hollow to name, just a stretch of quiet that feels like forever. the garage felt like something precious to you, like your own oyster, and although it wasn’t yours, it felt enough like it to call it home.

the guilt still thrums through your bones, still listening to the dead frequency like it might forgive you.

on a blank night where no stars would appear, you still find yourself toying with the tangerine headset. it’s only you in the space, being torn apart by your thoughts as you presume the rest of the staff are tucked away in their beds for tonight.

oscar used to call such night a bloodstar moon. on a particular stargazing date, he’d matter of factly pointed out that if you stare at the sky for too long, your brain would erase them.

the rubber around the ear sockets of the headphones feel rough, almost like gravel. your fingertips smooth over mclarens logo and your name engraved into the plastic like a significant placeholder of someone who mattered for a while, even if only to him.

taking a deep inhale, the kind that rattles your shoulders, you adjust it back onto your head.

the lights flicker as you do so, like they aren’t prepared for it either.

then abruptly, a saved file clicks. your brows scrunch together—someone must of queued it up in the system, you think and you stay tuned for it, incase it’s a part of media you missed on debrief day.

you don’t expect it to be oscar, least of all.

but fate has its journeys, right?

your heart skips its usual beat, your pulse stiffening under your skin. oscar’s voice. it crackles indistinctively at first, only shallow breathing escaping.

“i hope this gets to her—will it?” you hear him say, presumably to someone hovering in the background. “okay.. as long as it does.”

oscar takes a deep breath, and you picture him running his hand through his hair. “i don’t even know if this will get to you.. y/n, but i thought making the first move in person is a little too confrontational and terrifying for me.”

he chuckles, the sweet, innocent laugh you miss that always infected your own voice. “just don’t think of me as a wimp if you see me tomorrow after listening to this.”

you usher a laugh, if you can even call it that but it catches halfway, as your mouth runs sitient; your body recoils from the sound of something you’d been starving for.

“maybe it was best to do it here, maybe not, i don’t know,” he says, a little quiet. “but i—” he exhales again, the whistling palpable. “i wish i could undo everything i did.. the silence more than anything, but i feel like the damage is already done.”

“i hope it’s not, but if you don’t forgive me i understand.”

your breath catches, your hands trembling and sweat beads forming beneath your palms. you think, no osc, i’d forgive you a thousand times over if you’d just wake up. just come home.

“if you do decide to never speak to me again,” you make-out a faint sad chuckle, following a tired sigh. “the hardest part isn’t the goodbye. it’s knowing i’ll never get to hear your voice again.”

you don’t realise your crying until it hits your lap, even the shrill coolness of them doesn’t wake your senses after it spills down your cheeks.

and then, one last time, it almost breaks from static. “radio check.”

your fingers press rather rapidly at the button you’ve been hovering over, the pads of your thumb gnawing white at the force you’re excilerating. just above a whisper, muffled sobs leaving in syllables before the file ends:

“loud and clear.”

🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb @madamsoulette @mariejuli (lmk if you wanna be added or removed ◡̈)

[qtvi0let]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ：JEALOUS AIZAWA ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ： MDNI!

a/n; a jealous Aizawa a day, keeps the doctor away or smth like that… first time posting a smut fanfic pls be nice otherwise ill cry💔 this is inspired by a bot i saw last year.

— Public/Exhibitionism (semi-public), Domination/submission, Teasing/edge play, immobilization, Risk play. // F!Reader

Art made by me

/////// The Scent of Jealousy ////////

Affection and Shota Aizawa rarely show up in the same sentence—especially when it comes to you. Everyone at U.A. knows it. Between hero work, grading stacks of papers, and training the next generation, he keeps things strictly professional. And sometimes, that same stiff boundary sneaks into your nights at home, wrapping around him like a barrier you can’t always break through. You’re the only one brave enough to poke at it—teasing him about “love languages” like it’s a joke he’ll never quite get. He pretends he doesn’t hear it, but the truth is, it sticks in his head more than he’d like to admit.

He wonders, sometimes, if he’s been falling short. If maybe he should surprise you with dinner out, or just carve out a few hours where the world can’t touch you both. But patrols run late. Emergencies pop up. Papers pile higher than sleep ever does. He’s grown too used to the distance—the empty spaces in conversations, the nights spent shoulder to shoulder but feeling miles apart.

You’re both so used to people touching you that it shouldn’t faze him at all. Pinning, grabbing, blocking blows for a classroom full of wide-eyed students—it’s second nature. But the part he can’t shake is the way something tightens in his chest when he sees someone else’s hands on you. He tells himself it’s irrational. It’s part of the job—nothing more than muscle memory.

Still, some people don’t know when to stop. A hand that drifts too low, a shoulder pat that lingers, laughter too close to your ear. And today you had to wear that dress—the one he can’t ever quite get out of his head. The one that makes him want to lock the door and remind you exactly who you belong to. But instead, you’re standing in the bright hallway at U.A., catching everyone’s eyes in his favorite dress.

And then Present Mic—loud, shameless, with that grin that never shuts off—plants himself at your side. One arm thrown around your shoulders, voice booming right next to your ear like you’re his personal audience. Hizashi tosses you winks like candy, laughs too loud at jokes only he’s telling. And Shota knows it’s just Hizashi being Hizashi—he probably has no clue you’re already spoken for.

But when you’re standing there, smelling like Mic’s cologne, wearing that dress that should be just for him—something in Shota burns.

And for once, he’s done pretending it doesn’t bother him.

————————————————————

Aizawa wasn’t just looking for you—he was hunting you, stalking the halls like a predator with your name carved into his mind. His eyes flicked through classrooms and empty corridors, cold and sharp, until he finally spotted you slipping past the janitor’s closet.

A shiver ran down your spine—like your body sensed him before your eyes did. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see Shota closing the distance between you with that silent, lethal calm he wore like a second skin. You offered him a soft smile, lifted your hand to wave. He didn’t smile back. He didn’t slow down.

“Oh—Shota! I’ve been looking for yo—”

Your greeting died on your tongue when he grabbed your wrist, yanked you into the closet, and slammed the door behind you. The cramped space smelled faintly of disinfectant and old mops, but there was enough room for exactly what he had in mind.

Your back hit the wall with a dull thud, a startled gasp leaving your lips as he pressed close—so close you could feel the warmth rolling off him in waves. His hand tangled in your hair, turning your face toward the cold plaster.

“Shota—? What are you—”

You barely got the words out before his hips pinned yours to the wall. You felt him—hard, insistent, pressing through his pants against the curve of your backside. A tiny, helpless whimper escaped you, muffled against the wall.

“Shota… what if someone—what if we get—”

Your protest cut short when his voice growled low in your ear, rough with something feral and possessive.

“I can smell him on you,” he hissed, lips brushing your skin. “You know you’re mine, don’t you?” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear. “I won’t have you walking around reeking of another man’s cologne.”

He pressed harder against you, hips grinding just enough to make you squirm.

“I’m going to fuck his scent off you,” he murmured, each word dripping with dark promise. “Until all anyone smells on you is me.”

“What’s wrong?” you murmur, your tone teasing, wicked. You grind your hips up harder, feeling how solid he is behind you. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Shooo~…”

The nickname cuts through him like a spark to dry tinder. His fingers dig into your hips, enough to bruise. His breath ghosts hot over your neck as he snarls out, “Shut it.” His voice is rough, cracked open with that dark rasp that makes your stomach flutter.

You shiver when his stubbled jaw grazes your throat—sharp and scratchy, a stark contrast to the slow drag of his hands. He maps every inch of you, big palms sliding down your sides, gripping your thighs like he’s testing how far they’ll spread for him. Then he slides back up, dragging heat under your clothes until his fingers slip under your dress—tracing circles just beneath your belly, inching closer.

You can’t stop the tiny sound that slips out—half a gasp, half a plea. It earns you a low chuckle against your skin, his lips brushing your pulse. His hands creep higher, ghosting over your ribs before cupping your breasts through the fabric, thumbs flicking over your nipples until you’re squirming against him.

When he’s had enough of teasing, he bunches your dress up around your hips, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. He pauses, breathing heavy against your ear—waiting for you to say it’s okay. You nod, just once, your cheek scraping the wall. That’s all he needs.

He drags the flimsy fabric down your thighs, lets it drop around your ankles. You hear the metal click of his belt unbuckling behind you, the soft rustle of his zipper. Then his cock—hot, thick, already leaking—nudges between your soaked folds. The blunt head slides through your slit, smearing slick along your thighs until you whimper at the drag.

You start to moan, but his hand clamps over your mouth—rough, calloused, claiming. “Quiet,” he growls into your ear, that possessive rasp curling hot in your gut. His hips shift—one solid push, and he’s inside. All the way, thick and heavy, stretching you open with that slow, merciless pressure that has your knees going weak.

Your muffled moan vibrates against his palm as he bottoms out—he’s not long, but he’s so wide you swear you can feel every ridge, every throb. He holds still for just a heartbeat, savoring the way you pulse around him, then pulls back just enough before driving in again—slow, deliberate, each thrust hitting deep enough to knock a breath from your lungs.

The closet is too small, too dark, but right now it’s the only world you know—just the smell of him, the rough drag of his hero uniform brushing your thighs, the obscene wet sounds where your bodies meet. He fucks you slow but unyielding, each roll of his hips a reminder—this is his, you’re his, and no one else gets to leave their mark on you.

And when your soft whimpers slip out under his palm, you feel him smile against your neck—dark and dangerous—before he murmurs low, “Good. Keep those pretty sounds for me only.”

Your breath hitches under his palm as his cock drags out slow, then sinks back in deep—again and again, each thrust a steady push that makes your thighs tremble. The cramped closet feels even smaller now, every creak of the door a reminder that someone could walk by, swing it open, see exactly what he’s doing to you. Maybe that’s why your pulse pounds so hard—why your walls flutter around him, clenching greedily on every deep stroke.

He feels it—of course he does. He grunts low, teeth grazing your neck, his free hand roaming your body like he’s memorizing every inch all over again. His fingers slide down between your legs, finding your swollen clit. He rubs it in slow circles, matching the pace of his hips, forcing you to feel every inch of him and then some.

Your muffled moan is swallowed by his hand, your back arching into the rough wall as pleasure curls tight in your belly. You feel him smirk against your skin, hear the rumble of a dark laugh that has your knees nearly buckling.

“Look at you,” he rasps, voice shredded with heat and a hint of jealousy that hasn’t faded. “Letting me fuck you like this. Anyone could hear… could see… but they won’t. Because you’re mine, aren’t you?”

You nod frantically, eyes squeezed shut, a soft whimper vibrating against his palm as your hips rock back into him, desperate for more. His thumb circles harder, faster—your thighs quiver as you fight to hold in a cry.

“Be good,” he growls, pressing his forehead to the back of your head, breath ragged. “Be quiet for me. You wanna come, don’t you? Take it. Take all of it, sweetheart.”

He thrusts deeper, harder now—each roll of his hips making filthy wet sounds echo in the tiny closet. You’re so close your vision sparks, your body trembling under the way he fills you, the way his hand keeps you silent, keeps you his.

You feel it building—tight, sharp, unstoppable. He feels it too, the way you clench so sweet around him, your slick dripping down his cock. He bites down gently on your shoulder, muffling a groan as his hips snap forward one last time.

You come undone with a muffled cry, your walls squeezing him so tight he curses under his breath. He fucks you through it, rough and deep until his own hips stutter, his growl breaking into a low, wrecked moan as he spills inside you—filling you so full you swear you can feel him pulsing deep, marking you where no one else ever will.

When it’s over, he stays there—hips pressed flush to yours, chest heaving against your back. His hand slips from your mouth, only to tilt your head back so he can press a kiss to your jaw—possessive and soft, in a way that’s almost sweet if not for the mess he’s made of you.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your skin, voice raw, satisfied, still hungry. “Next time, don’t let him touch you. Or I’ll remind you again.”

His fingers slip down to gather his cum dripping from between your thighs—smearing it back inside you with a low, dangerous chuckle as he pulls your panties back up. His cum tucked in and deep inside your pretty cunt.

“Now go back out there,” he breathes, zipping himself up while his eyes drink you in—your hair messy, your dress bunched up, his scent clinging everywhere. “Let everyone see exactly who you belong to.”

meanwhile…

Down the hall, a few students paused, ears perked.

“Did anyone else just hear that?” one whispered.

“Hear what?” another shrugged.

“Like… weird noises? Like grunting and a ‘shh’ or something?”

“Maybe it was just the janitor dropping his mop again,” someone said, trying to sound logical.

“No idea,” the first shrugged. “But it sounded… intense.”

They all shrugged and kept walking, none of them any closer to understanding what just went down.

Good lord…

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - bonus part four

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader; past carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers, tbd

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons or events

series: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v, part vi, part vii. part viii, part ix, part x, part xi, part xii, part xiii, part xiv, part xv, part xvi, part xvii, xviii, tbd.

bonus: one, two, three, five, six

author's note: This is a bonus part, and not a regular update - i.e. no images, just text! Hoping to have the next chapter out before the race on Sunday.

July 20, 2025: Èze, France

Loud applause briefly startles Lando, reminding him of where and when he is – your sister’s wedding. He withdraws his hand from the back of your seat to join in on clapping as one of Victoria’s friends finishes up her speech.

He should probably feel like a fraud, sitting at the family table with the newly wedded couple just three seats down from him.

The troubling truth is that he doesn’t feel like one. Not even a little bit. Instead, he feels almost guilty over how normal it is - like he belongs right here, next to you as you immediately dig into the main course once it’s served.

“Oh my god, this is so good,” you gush in between bites, motioning for Lando to eat as well. “Can you believe that we’re already halfway through dinner and speeches? And that my sister’s actually married now?”

Lando wipes his hands for the hundredth time that day on his suit, before he picks up his cutlery and hums. They’re still a little clammy – the one telltale sign that he is, in fact, not alright. Because it’s not due to a sweltering summer night out here in Èze. Neither is it a result from exertion, from having driven his car around a track for ages wearing fireproof gloves.

No, his hands are sweaty, because he’s been desperately trying to keep himself in check all day and not get lost in the fantasy of it all. Of being here as your partner, of being more than just a convenient plus one.  

If he’s being honest, he’s failing. Has been failing probably since Montréal. Even more so since Silverstone. One kiss could’ve been an accident, a lapse of judgment – something in the heat of the moment. Not that it was like that for him in Canada, though. If anything, it had felt inevitable.

Which is why your reaction had hurt, despite having known you well enough to have somewhat seen it coming. So he’d gotten his armour back on, told himself that things were fine the way they were, he just needed some distance.

So what you’d dented your friendship, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be undone. It would be nothing but a small blip or blemish, and Lando would either be patient enough to see you change your mind, or to get over it himself.  Except then the Silverstone win had made him feel invincible and he’d blurred the line he’d drawn himself all over again.

There’s this tension now that lives between the two of you. Perhaps it had always been there, neatly situated in the blind spots of your friendship. Visible for everyone else, but you and him. But now he can’t unsee it. Can’t unfeel the erratic way in which his heart drums in his chest every time he’s close to you. Can’t undo the press of his lips against yours and the way in which the memory of it is seared into his brain. Can’t unhear the sweetest of giggles turned moans when he’d sucked on your skin. Can’t unread your texts asking him to come to you. And Lando knows himself well enough to know that it’s not just lust, or desire that’s making him slowly lose his mind, unravelling in real time.

It’s the fact that it’s you. Someone who's seen all of him. The person that’s seen him snort chocolate milk out his nose, who’s accidentally hit him in the balls with a golf club, who sings horribly off-key at karaoke. The person who cheers him on even when he loses, who gifted him a Valentino Rossi mug without knowing who he was but knowing Lando cared, who trains with such devotion and dedication – who is just so much cooler than he is in every single way, yet chooses to hang out with him and decorate cupcakes with together off-season.

And that’s what makes it so much worse. Because he’s already had the privilege of knowing you, and it’s still not enough. Never will be enough, he fears. He craves you all the time. Even when he’s seated right next to you, all he wants is to be closer. To walk his fingers up your spine and down your arm, put his hand on your thigh like it means something decidedly not casual or friendly. To kiss your shoulder, just because he can.

He’s acutely aware of how your knees knock together under the table every once in a while tonight. How you’d hung onto his arm yesterday, and had allowed his hand to linger on your lap in the car. How your great aunt had assumed you’d been dating, and you’d immediately tried to correct her. How you avoid talking about what it is you’re actually doing and what it means – but still end up seeking Lando out, pushing the boundaries each time.

He smiles when you send him a cheeky wink, and it’s perhaps a bit too easy for him to pretend it means something. Almost as easy as it is to pretend the flowers he continues to send you mean nothing at all. It is reckless and greedy, but part of him wants to just take whatever you’ll give. Even if it ends up permanently scarring your friendship and his heart. So, here he sits on the family table as your best friend, pretending that he doesn’t feel both butterflies and dread churn in his stomach whenever he looks at you.   

Lando refuses to acknowledge Carlos’ eyebrow wiggles from across the garden. You’ve disappeared back inside, something about a wardrobe change. Lando hadn’t been paying attention, had been focused instead on how you’d reached out to squeeze his hand. He’s saved from an eagerly and quickly approaching nosy Spaniard by your now official brother in law, who asks Lando for tips on how to properly pop the champagne.

The first bottle gets unceremoniously uncorked in the bushes, and Lando snaps a photo of the newlyweds laughing their heads off. There’s joy and happiness radiating off of them, and he snorts when Victoria squints her eyes in genuine laughter, just like you. He doesn’t get to share that observation until he finds you upstairs in the chateau, zipper of your evening dress still half undone and heels kicked into the corner like you forgot about them the moment you stepped into the room.

“I knew it was a fucking dumb idea to choose such a tight dress for the dance,” you complain as you flip your hair to one side. “Now I’m stuck in this and I missed Vic’s opening champagne shower.”

Lando swallows. He feels a little stupid at letting a part of him think you’d been lying about the new dress, that you’d just wanted to get him alone for a bit. “Do you like it?” The soft tone takes him by surprise, as if you’re genuinely not sure. The left corner of his lips curls up. “The other one gave me more access,” he teases, then steps forward as his hands ghost over the straps of the dress before following them down to the zipper. The low back had allowed him to inconspicuously ghost his fingers across your skin every time you'd leaned back a little in your chair.

You huff, and your eyes find his in the mirror. Mirth dances over your face, “maybe a bit too much access. If I’d do one champagne-induced pirouette, I’m pretty sure my left boob would be joining the party.”

His hands still on the small of your back, and he squeezes his eyes closed with a playful groan, dropping his chin on your shoulder. “Birdie, do you know how hard I’m trying to not look at your left boob right now?”

“Who said you’re not allowed to look? Or feel, or touch?”

The bold statement hangs in the air, filling the room with heated anticipation. For a brief moment, Lando is tempted to act on it as well. It feels like an I dare you, and he’s not one to back down from a challenge. Loves a good game and hates losing, after all. But before he can do as much, you blithely continue rambling as you motion towards the upper part of the dress you’re currently wearing. “This one’s got a corseted, structured body. It’s why I can’t properly zip it myself. Because apparently it’s the type of dress only people with partners wear. At least it'll keep my boobs firmly in place even when I tear up the dancefloor. So once you’ve zipped it close, you better have a good look and tell me if it looks nice.”

Right. A tiny spark of disappointment rushes down his spine. That’s why you’d asked him to come up here. Out of convenience.

It’s probably better like this anyways, Lando considers as he gently tugs on the zipper and ignores the drag of his fingers against soft skin. A new line to draw in the sand, the smallest of moats that he’s desperately dug around his own heart as a final attempt at self-preservation. No sex.

He looks over your shoulder in the mirror once he’s secured the zipper up top, then smiles appreciatively at the way the dress hugs you in all the right places. “Fuck,” he sighs. “You look hot. Beautiful.”

“Yeah?” You question, restless hands removing imaginary dust from the fabric before turning around to face him. “Danceable?”

You’re so close that he can faintly make out your freckles, and the way in which your lipstick has started to wear just a little. It’s distracting, and the question feels like a trap, but he willingly allows himself to fall for it anyways. One of his hands reaches out, caresses just underneath the curve of your breast. To test more than to tease. “Seems sturdy,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on newfound territory that Lando is apparently allowed to touch. “Might have to give it a good test run, though.”

You giggle, eyes glinting with mischief as you gently remove his hand from where it’d been caressing your body and step just out of reach. Lando pretends not to be disappointed. “Then lead the way, Mr. Norris.” The teasing lilt in your voice makes way for something lighter as you slip back into heels. “And you better be quick, because I’ve got a date with my sister on the dancefloor.”

Lando smirks. “Oh sweetheart, don’t tempt me. You know I’d leave you in the dust. Especially if you’re wearing those.”

He brings you a drink as peace offering when you’re still pretend sulking after having inevitably lost the race back to the party. Noone seems to have noticed that you’d briefly gone inside, but he supposes that it’s easy to slip away as the night goes on. Most people are either well on their way to being drunk, or distracted by the other guests dancing the night away.

Not Lando though, he's just distracted by you. The dress he’d helped you get into earlier looks absolutely stunning in the moonlight, as you dance with your friends and family. Strings of fairy lights are draped around the garden, and the disco balls make their reflections dance across your skin like the light just can't help but seek you out. He understands that tendency all too well.

You’re buzzed, he can tell by the way you get slightly more expressive and start to mime out the lyrics to songs you particularly like. Lando grins, more than content with observing quietly from the side as he converses with Carlos and other guests. But then your eyes meet his and your expression brightens immediately, crooking your finger at him.

He can’t resist. With heels, you tower over him a little when you're dancing this close, and Lando loves it more than he should. Like he does with everything and anyhing to do with you. It’s why he steadfastly ignores his head when his heart starts beating faster and faster, blood rushing south when you grind on him. There’s something equally exhilarating and unnerving about the fact that you don’t seem to care at all about your surroundings.

Except apparently there are some things you won’t do in the middle of the dancefloor, and that’s why he finds himself being led back into the chateau. “Wanted to do this so badly,” you pant as you nip at his neck, before slotting your lips against his.

He walks you back to the bed, then laughs into your hair as you pull him down with you onto the mattress. Lando swears his skin burns with every single touch of your hands, like liquid heat and sunshine coursing through his veins.

You unbutton his shirt as you place small kisses along his collarbone. “You smell so good,” you mutter, and Lando can’t think straight. He pulls at your chin, lifting it up a little so he can kiss you properly. Lick into your mouth while his other hand settles on your hipbone.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he responds when you eventually pull away for air, giving his bottom lip a little tug. He knows you can feel just how turned on he is from the way in which you try to roll your hips up, desperate for some friction.

A whine escapes your lips when Lando’s grip tightens, pinning you further down and effectively keeping you from moving. It’s a last-ditch effort in maintaining some semblance of control. Your chest rises and falls quickly, arousal clearly written across your face.

“Oh come on Lando, it’s just us.” It’s meant to egg him on, get him to do something – anything. Instead, it hits like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“Just us?” Lando lets out a frustrated noise, and all of a sudden he lifts himself off of your body. 

“Yeah, just us,” you repeat, and he can feel something sharp twist inside his chest. Oh, he thinks. So this is what it’s like when you break your own heart.

“This isn’t – I,” Lando pauses, one hand passing through his hair in frustration. “You make it sound so insignificant.”

You just frown, sitting up on your elbows so you can have a better look at him. Like you couldn’t possibly understand what he means. Lando can feel his heart sinking deeper into he moat he'd dug to protect himself.

“I can’t do this if it’s – if that’s what this is to you. Like it being ‘just us’ doesn’t make this a thousand times more monumental.”

“Monumental?” you repeat incredulously, and it hurts. Because he’d always just assumed that the fact your friendship was sacred didn’t need explanation to you. But maybe it does.  

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. I’m not going to risk that over something that means nothing to you.”

He starts buttoning up his shirt again, just to have something else to do. So he doesn’t have to witness how clueless you look, as if you still can’t quite wrap your head around what’s happening. “Are you serious right now?”

He doesn’t deign that with a response, just huffs as he pushes off the bed and starts putting on his shoes. How fucking stupid.

“So what, you’re not even going to talk to me and just leave?” You question again, and Lando feels a surge of annoyance rise to the surface.

“I don’t want to say something I’m going to regret,” he settles on in the end.

Because how is it that you get to be miffed about him leaving, when it’s him that you’ve just devastated?

He doesn't know if it's faith or delusion that lets him believe you didn't mean it like that. And the worst part is that he could've and should've seen this coming. He knew not to push you, not to rush you. He thought that he could handle it. Do it right. Plan a heart to heart. Let it all unfold.

Instead, everything's gone wrong, despite trying to do the right thing. And for the first time that day, Lando feels like a fraud.

a/n: just a little something to tide you over before the next chapter this weekend :) I think i'm going back to just having a 1x per week update schedule, I was hoping the summer would see my day job calm down - but it's felt like the opposite unfortunately. So, I need to be realistic in what I can deliver... Not that there are many chapters left, but I like to keep you guys in the loop and set the right expectations instead of letting you down by being late with uploading every time :(

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

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[pinkbowsxo]

Friends Don’t Do This

Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

Masterlist

warnings: swearing, alcohol, sexual content, loss of virginity theme, jealousy, possessiveness, slight drug mention

a/n: needed to do a friends to lovers one since it’s one of my favorite tropes!

Thanos has been your best friend ever since you were kids. Your moms used to be best friends too before his mom passed away. You went to primary school with him and then to high school as well. Now it’s your final year of school and today is your 18th birthday. You’ve planned a huge birthday party with lots of friends and classmates. You’re wearing a really pretty short dress with your hair and makeup all done too.

The party had just started and you were still busy greeting people. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Thanos in the living room already flirting with some girl. You felt jealousy stir in your chest. You always deny your feelings for him even though you know damn well they’re there. It’s just he has that bad boy vibe mixed with being a player and all the drugs he does for some reason it all does something to you.

You decided to grab a strong alcoholic drink when you noticed that guy from your class the one who’s obviously into you. “Nice dress. You look… different” he says leaning casually against the wall taking a sip from his drink. “So happy birthday. Got any plans after the party” His tone sounds casual but there’s definitely an underlying meaning hidden in his words.

“Probably gonna be so drunk I’ll need to sleep it off but nothing else though” you replied with a sarcastic tone. He chuckles clearly finding your sarcasm attractive. “You know what I think” he says stepping a little closer his voice dropping lower. “I think you should come over to my place after the party. We could… celebrate your birthday properly.” As he speaks his hand accidentally brushes against yours on the counter.

You look at his hand touching yours and then back at his face. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. You’ve been wanting to lose your virginity for what feels like forever and honestly you’ve been ashamed you still had it up until now. He notices you staring at his hand and takes it as a sign of interest. He briefly intertwines his fingers with yours before letting go to finish his drink. “So? My place or no” he asks with a charming smile looking way too confident that you’ll say yes. The noise of the party buzzes around you but right now it feels like it’s just the two of you. A slow smirk creeps onto your face as you tilt your head slightly. “Yes” you reply your voice soft but dripping with boldness.

His smile widens victorious. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 2 AM when the party’s over.” He leans in closer his breath warm against your ear sending a shiver down your spine. “And don’t even think about changing your mind alright. I’ve been looking forward to our… private celebration.” His lips brush against your cheek lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle before he casually disappears into the crowd leaving you standing there with your heart racing and a thousand thoughts running through your head.

As the night goes on you find yourself drinking more and more laughing with friends dancing letting the music buzz through your veins. But no matter how hard you try to stay present your mind keeps drifting to one thing what’s going to happen at 2 AM. The thought sends little sparks through your chest every time it creeps in. You’re lost in it when suddenly someone grabs your waist from behind making you nearly spill your drink as you jump. It’s Thanos. He’s laughing that low husky sound of his rolling against your ear. “Gotcha” he teases his breath warm against your skin. He leans casually against the wall beside you a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Having fun” His eyes lock onto yours sparkling with amusement but beneath that there’s something else lingering. Something dangerous. Something that feels a lot like anticipation.

“Idiot” you say punching his shoulder lightly. “But yeah I’m having fun.” He laughs again catching your hand mid-punch and holding it gently his fingers curling around yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Good. You should be. It’s your birthday after all.” He releases your hand and casually takes a sip of his drink eyes still on you. “You’re pretty drunk aren’t you” His voice softens lower now laced with curiosity. You chuckle leaning in a little. “Not yet” you whisper with a teasing smirk. “Oh hey I’m gonna lose my virginity tonight” The words tumble out of your mouth without warning bold and unfiltered. He nearly chokes on his drink eyes widening for a split second before he composes himself a slow grin spreading across his face as he leans in voice dropping conspiratorially. “Is that so? And who’s the lucky guy” He tries to sound casual but there’s no missing the sharp edge of interest flickering in his eyes now dark and intense.

“Just some guy from my class” you reply with a mysterious grin your eyes sparkling with mischief. He raises an eyebrow a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just some guy huh Must be feeling pretty confident if he managed to score the hot birthday girl” he teases taking another slow sip of his drink his gaze fixed on you studying every little expression on your face. “What’s his name” he asks trying to sound casual but the slight tension tightening his jaw gives him away. “You don’t know him” you shrug brushing it off effortlessly. “Right” he says slowly his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he lifts his drink to his lips again. For a split second something flashes in his eyes jealousy Possession You can’t quite tell. “Well I hope he treats you right” he adds his forced smile not quite reaching his eyes. “You deserve someone who…” His words trail off as he runs a hand through his dark hair his expression unreadable for a moment like he’s battling with something he can’t say out loud.

You gave him a genuine smile before watching him drift off to chat with some other girl. As the night wears on you lose yourself in the fun dancing with friends laughing at dumb jokes the music pulsing through your body. But every now and then your eyes find Thanos across the room. He’s talking to other girls flashing that same charming grin but his gaze keeps drifting back to you lingering just a little too long his eyes darker with something unreadable. Finally it’s almost 2 AM. Your nerves suddenly kick in your heart thudding a little faster as your mind starts racing. Was this even a good idea You barely know that guy from your class and your first time shouldn’t it be special Meaningful You chew your bottom lip uncertainty creeping in and decide to get some fresh air. Stepping out onto the balcony the cool breeze hits your skin as you lean against the railing eyes drifting up to the night sky glittering above you. The air helps clear your head just slightly. Behind you footsteps approach quiet but steady. You turn to see Thanos walking toward you his expression shifting the moment he catches sight of your serious face. He slows eyes scanning you with concern. “You okay” His voice is low softer than usual laced with warmth. His hair’s a little messy probably from running his hands through it too many times and there’s a faint flush to his cheeks from the drinks. “You look deep in thought” he adds stopping in front of you his eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to read your mind.

“Yeah… I was about to leave with that guy but I’m having second thoughts” you admit quietly your eyes drifting down for a second before meeting his again. Thanos steps closer his presence suddenly grounding his voice low and serious. “What are you thinking” he asks gently his tone softer than you expected layered with something protective something that catches you off guard. His eyes search your face scanning for any hint of distress doubt or hesitation. “If he’s not right for you then don’t go” he says simply but there’s weight behind his words like it’s more than just advice like it matters to him really matters.

“It’s just I don’t know him that well” you admit your voice softer now uncertainty lingering in your words. Thanos nods slowly his eyes never leaving yours understanding written all over his face. “You should know someone well before doing something like that” he says carefully his voice low. He pauses for a second then adds even softer “I mean it’s your first time. It should be special.” You can’t help but smile at him warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re right” you whisper. He smiles back one of those rare genuine smiles that actually reaches his eyes his arm brushing lightly against yours in the process sending a spark through your skin. “You’re too good for some random quick hookup with someone you don’t even know” he says quietly the protective edge in his voice impossible to miss. “You deserve better than that.” He starts to turn like he’s about to walk away but those words hit you harder than you expected stirring something deep in your chest. “Wait will you help me clean up” you ask your voice lighter now. His lips twitch into a smirk as he watches you head back inside. “Yeah sure” he replies his eyes drifting briefly to your backside before he catches himself shaking his head with a quiet laugh under his breath. Inside the music has finally stopped the house is quiet and together you both start picking up cups tossing away empty bottles the late night calm settling around you.

You told the guy you weren’t going to leave with him anymore. As you reject him you catch Thanos watching from across the room that familiar satisfied smirk tugging at his lips like he’d just won some silent battle. He finishes tidying up and strolls over grabbing a few empty cups from your hands with ease. “All good with him” he asks casually but the hint of relief in his voice is impossible to miss. “Yeah he didn’t mind probably already found someone else” you reply with a small chuckle. Thanos chuckles too his eyes glinting with amusement. “Yeah probably” he echoes turning and walking toward the kitchen with the cups clearly expecting you to follow him. You do and as he stands by the sink rinsing the cups he suddenly turns stepping in front of you his tall frame effortlessly blocking your only exit from the kitchen his eyes fixed on yours with quiet intensity.

He had one more gift for you. Turning off the faucet he grabs a dish towel drying his hands without breaking eye contact. Then slipping a hand into his pocket he pulls out a small neatly wrapped box. He holds it out to you his eyes dark and focused that usual teasing energy replaced with something more intense. “I got you something” he says his voice low serious the weight of it making your heart skip. “Open it.”

“You already got me a present” you protest lightly eyeing the small box with curiosity. He smirks that familiar cocky glint flashing in his eyes. “Yeah but this one’s different” he replies nudging the box toward you gently. “Just open it” he adds his voice softening in a way that makes your stomach flip. His eyes never leave you as you carefully unwrap the little box fingers trembling ever so slightly with anticipation. Inside nestled in velvet is a breathtaking necklace delicate gold with a small diamond pendant shaped like an infinity symbol that glimmers under the kitchen lights. You barely have time to react before he’s already reaching for it sliding the necklace out of the box with surprising care. He steps behind you and you feel the warmth of his body close as his fingers brush against your neck sending goosebumps down your skin as he clasps the necklace around your throat. He steps back around to face you his eyes roaming over you clearly admiring how it looks on you. His hand lifts fingers brushing over the infinity pendant resting against your collarbone his thumb tracing it softly. “I saw it and thought of you” he murmurs his voice quiet but full of something raw something real. “Infinity eternal perfect. Just like you.”

You turn around your fingers brushing over the pendant as you smile up at him. “It’s beautiful absolutely perfect. Thank you so much” you say softly your voice genuine full of warmth. His eyes soften at your words that usual playful edge replaced with something tender as he reaches out tucking a strand of hair gently behind your ear. His fingers linger against your cheek for a moment longer than necessary his touch feather light but enough to send your heart racing before he finally lets his hand fall. “You’re welcome” he whispers his voice low quiet but it hums with meaning. The air between you shifts instantly heavy with unspoken tension like something could happen any second. And maybe that’s exactly why before it could he steps away casually grabbing a few more cups and turning his attention back to cleaning leaving you standing there still buzzing from the moment.

As Thanos steps away to continue cleaning clearly trying to break the intense moment lingering between you an awkward silence hangs heavy in the air. The only sound is the water running from the sink as Thanos busies himself with washing dishes that probably didn’t even need cleaning. You stand there frozen for a moment fingers gently holding the necklace around your neck like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. Eventually Thanos finishes and flops down onto the couch rubbing his hands over his face clearly needing a break from the cleaning and maybe from whatever tension just passed between you. But while he’s trying to cool down a mischievous little plan starts forming in your head. With a playful grin tugging at your lips you walk over to him where he’s lounging on the couch. He looks up at you the corner of his mouth lifting as he says something his eyes narrowing curiously at your expression.

As you approach him Thanos looks up from the couch his expression a little distracted but his eyes sharp enough to catch the smirk playing on your lips and the way your fingers still toy with the necklace. “Something on your mind?” he asks his gaze flicking between your face and the delicate jewelry resting against your skin. He leans back into the cushions his arms crossing lazily over his chest like he’s settling in to enjoy whatever game you’re about to start. “Do you like my dress?” you grin your voice teasing as you stop just in front of him. His eyes drift down slowly unapologetically tracing every curve the dress clings to lingering for just a moment too long before meeting your gaze again. There’s amusement there but also something darker something hungry. “Very much” he admits his voice low and husky sending a shiver down your spine. You take another step closer and without hesitation he shifts widening his legs just enough for you to step between them his eyes locked onto yours as if daring you to make the next move.

As you step in closer Thanos shifts widening his legs to make space for you his eyes never leaving yours for even a second. The air between you grows heavy thick with tension that neither of you seems ready to break. His hand comes up large and warm as it settles on your hip his grip gentle but firm enough to steady you right where he wants you. “Did you like the girls you were talking to tonight?” you ask your tone playful but your eyes sharp watching every flicker of emotion on his face. His fingers tighten ever so slightly on your hip as he leans in his face hovering just inches from yours his breath ghosting over your skin. “Not as much as I like talking to you” he murmurs his voice low and barely above a whisper every word curling in the space between you like a secret. His thumb brushes along your hip bone the thin fabric of your dress doing little to dull the sensation. “Jealous” he adds the corner of his mouth lifting in a slow dangerous smirk that sends a pulse of heat through your chest.

“Maybe” you reply with a teasing grin as you move to sit on his lap. “What if I was?” Without hesitation Thanos pulls you fully onto his lap forcing you to straddle him as his arms wrap around your waist holding you firmly in place. His grip is possessive but gentle his eyes locked onto yours dark and unreadable. “If you were jealous that would mean you care” he says his voice low each word dripping with quiet confidence. “And if you care that might mean you like me.” You lean in closer your face only inches from his your lips hovering dangerously close to his own. Thanos’s breath catches slightly the heat between you crackling like static. His arms tighten around your waist his eyes searching yours waiting. He gives you the space to pull away but it’s obvious from the way his lips part and his gaze drops to your mouth that he’s hoping you won’t. “Hi” you whisper your voice soft but full of playful challenge. His eyes flick down to your lips again before they return to meet your gaze his lips curling into a small dangerous smile. “Hi” he whispers back his voice husky with desire. His hands slide slowly up your sides his touch lingering as they settle back on your waist holding you there like he has no intention of letting you go.

You close the distance as your lips finally meet his. The second your lips touch his a low groan of satisfaction escapes him his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other tightens around your waist pulling you closer. His kiss starts slow soft testing the waters but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The intensity builds fast your lips moving hungrily against his your need bleeding through every movement as you kiss him more aggressively your fingers tangling in his hair your body pressing closer. But just when you’re completely lost in him he suddenly pulls back. His hands slide to your shoulders holding you firmly at arm’s length. His chest rises and falls rapidly his lips flushed and swollen from the heat of the kiss his eyes dark but sharp with concern. “Wait” he says his voice rough low steadying himself. “What?” you whisper your breathing uneven the ache for him still burning through you as you blink up at him confused and desperate for him to come back. His eyes lock onto yours searching every inch of your face for signs of uncertainty or anything that makes him hesitate. “Are you drunk?” he asks bluntly his brow creasing with quiet worry and suspicion. His thumbs brush gently over your collarbones as he keeps you at a safe distance giving you space to breathe to answer honestly. “Because I need to know you’re in your right mind before this goes any further.”

“No I’m not drunk” you say quickly your voice firm but breathless your eyes locked onto his. “You told me I deserve better than doing this with someone I don’t know. You know me better than anyone.” His expression softens instantly the tension in his face melting away as your words sink in. “True” he mutters under his breath his voice quieter now rougher as his hands slide back down to your waist his grip possessive holding you close like he’s afraid to let go. His eyes sweep over your face lingering on your flushed cheeks your parted lips your clear steady gaze. There’s no sign of drunkenness no hesitation just you worked up and aching for him. The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them raw and honest. “Please take my virginity please Su bong.” The second the words leave your lips his pupils blow wide dark desire flooding his eyes as his grip tightens around your waist. “Fuck” he curses under his breath his jaw tightening as he fights for control. His eyes search your face again slower this time looking for even the faintest flicker of doubt of uncertainty but all he finds is desperate need shining back at him. “Are you sure?” he asks his voice low and serious the words almost a growl as his hands stay firmly on your body waiting for your answer.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” you breathe, your voice steady with determination as your hands move quickly to unbuckle his belt. His eyes drop to your hands, watching every shaky, eager movement, his jaw tightening as the reality of what’s happening settles over him. Your small hands fumble slightly, but you’re determined, and he realizes in that moment this is really going to happen. Your first time, with him. A low growl rumbles from his chest as your fingers slide down his zipper, exposing his boxers, already straining with his growing arousal. “You’ve always been such a good friend to me,” you tease with a grin, your voice playful as your hands work to push his jeans down. His eyes darken with hunger, his voice rough with a hint of guilt and something far more dangerous. “Which makes me the biggest bastard right now,” he mutters, helping you shove his jeans off along with his shoes. His hands find your hips again, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm, possessive, his eyes burning into yours. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this with you?” You bite your lip, your hand sliding lower as you tug his boxers down, your fingers wrapping around his cock, pumping him slowly, teasingly. “Oh yeah? Tell me about it,” you whisper, your voice dripping with challenge as you stroke him, watching the way his eyes darken and his self-control starts to unravel.

He hisses at the sudden contact, his hips jerking forward into your hand without thinking. “Fuck, like this. In the car on the way to school. In the library when you were reading. In the cafeteria while we were eating,” he pants out, his voice rough, his grip on your hips tightening like he’s struggling to keep control. “Why me?” you ask, your strokes picking up speed, your eyes locked onto his, watching every little reaction play out across his face. His eyes darken further, his jaw clenching as he fights to stay composed. “Because you’re fucking perfect,” he growls, his voice strained with pure need. His eyes drop to your hand, watching the way you work him over, the slow, steady strokes making him lose his mind. “Because I’ve always wanted it to be me for you.” A sweet smile curves your lips, playful and innocent despite what your hand is doing to him. “Am I doing this right?” you ask, tilting your head, your voice light as your hand moves faster, tightening your grip like you know exactly how much you’re teasing him. “Too fucking right,” he groans, his head falling back against the pillow as his hips lift into your hand, chasing every stroke. “A little faster. Squeeze a bit tighter.” You do exactly as he says, your pace quickening, your fingers tightening, and the raw sound that rips from his throat in response makes your heart stutter. “Fuck, just like that,” he groans deeply, his hips bucking into your hand, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps as he watches you with dark, hungry eyes. “You have no idea how good that feels.”

You move your face closer to his ear, your lips brushing the shell of it as you whisper softly, “Oh yeah?” Without waiting for a reply, you start to suck and bite at his earlobe, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin as your lips tease him. “Shit…” he hisses, his breath stalling in his throat as his hands move up to grip your hair, one of them tangling tightly in the strands as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. The combined sensation of your hand still pumping his cock and your mouth working at his ear nearly undoes him right then and there. His hips jerk under you, his head falling back, the tension in his body spiraling. “Keep doing that… fuck…” he groans, his voice low and strained, his grip tightening in your hair as his self-control slips further with every second.

“You wanna cum first and fuck me after or…?” you ask, your voice dripping with teasing confidence as your hand keeps moving steadily around him. “Both,” he growls, turning his face toward you so his lips hover dangerously close to yours, his eyes dark and filled with nothing but raw hunger. “Want to feel your hand make me cum, then I want to bury my cock so deep inside you you’ll be thinking about it for days.” His breathing is heavy now, his voice even lower, rough and strained with desire. His eyes narrow slightly, a cocky smirk flickering at the corner of his mouth. “You sure you can handle that? Handle me?” he asks, his hand still tangled in your hair, his other gripping your waist possessively. You smirk right back, leaning in just enough that your lips brush his as you reply, “Only if you can handle me.”

“Mhmm, smartass,” he chuckles, the sound low and rough as his eyes roam over you. “You do realize I could easily throw you down right now.” His gaze darkens, his mind clearly filling with every dirty possibility as he watches the confident smirk play on your lips. “You wouldn’t dare,” you tease, your voice playful as your finger glides slowly over the sensitive tip of his cock. That’s all it takes. His entire body tenses as a deep groan rips from his throat, his hips jerking forward as he comes hard into your hand. “Fuck…” he pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes glued to the sight of his cum dripping from your fingers, sliding slowly down his still hard shaft. The image alone is enough to make him lose his mind. You lift your hand to your lips, licking his cum off your fingers with deliberate, slow movements, never breaking eye contact. His cock twitches with interest again, already hardening at the sight. He swallows hard, his voice rough and low as his eyes darken with pure lust. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

“I searched up some tips before when I thought I was going with that guy,” you admit with a teasing smile, your voice light but knowing exactly what kind of reaction that would pull from him. His eyes darken instantly at the mention of the other guy, possessiveness flaring in his gaze as he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him. His mouth crashes onto yours, his lips demanding, hungry, his tongue immediately tasting you, tasting himself lingering on your tongue as he kisses you deeply, completely claiming the moment. When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his mouth still brushing yours as he growls low, “Good thing I stopped that from happening.”

“Slow at first…” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint as he reaches under your dress, his fingers sliding your panties aside. His hand moves between your legs, his fingers finding your pussy, pumping you slowly a few times, coaxing you to get wetter. He groans softly, the sound low and satisfied as he feels you responding to his touch, your arousal growing with every slow pump of his fingers. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he positions himself at your entrance. The head of his cock presses against your clit, rubbing gently, teasing you, making your breath hitch before he finally guides you down onto him. A deep, guttural moan rumbles from his chest as you slowly sink down, taking him in inch by inch. “Fuck, that’s tight,” he grunts, his fingers digging into your hips as his head falls back for a second, the pleasure overwhelming. His eyes flick back up to yours, dark and locked on your every reaction as you bounce gently, starting to move up and down on him at your own pace. “Just like that… take it slow,” he encourages, his voice strained but steady as you take a deep breath, your body adjusting to his size. He notices the slight tension in your face, the discomfort that comes with taking him in for the first time, and immediately slows down, his hands steady and gentle on your hips. “Easy,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, full of patience. His hands guide your movements, careful, unhurried. “Take your time… let your pussy adjust to my size.” He leans back slightly on the couch, giving you full control over the pace, his eyes never leaving yours, letting you set the rhythm as you get used to the stretch.

You grab onto both his arms, your fingers squeezing as your face tightens with discomfort. “This hurts more than I thought it would,” you admit, your voice strained but honest. Thanos immediately stills, all the teasing and hunger in his expression melting into pure concern. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, his voice sincere, no trace of playfulness left as he gently helps lift you off him, his now-softening cock slipping from your body. His hands stay steady on your hips, his eyes never leaving yours. “We don’t have to keep going if it’s too painful,” he offers quietly, his touch full of patience. But you shake your head, repositioning him at your entrance with steady determination. “No, I wanna continue,” you say firmly, your voice soft but sure. His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise mixed with admiration flashing across his face as he searches your eyes for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low, gentle, but the desire burning beneath it is impossible to miss. His hands cradle your face as he leans in, kissing you softly, tenderly, like he’s grounding you back into the moment. “If it gets too much, just tell me to stop, okay?” You nod, your heart racing but steady with resolve. He carefully guides you back down onto him, his movements painfully slow and extra gentle this time. His hands slide to your lower back and thighs, supporting you as you try to relax and take him deeper, his eyes never leaving yours. His lips find your neck, kissing and sucking softly at your skin, trying to ease the tension and distract you from the discomfort. “Breathe,” he whispers, his voice low and steady against your skin as his hands keep you anchored to him.

You had been talking all big before, full of teasing confidence, but now you were just a quiet mess, the pain making it hard to keep up that bold attitude. He notices your silence immediately, the small whimpers slipping past your lips giving away just how much you’re struggling. His eyes soften, the playful edge gone as he leans in and presses gentle kisses along your neck, his voice dropping even lower, softer than before. “You’re doing so well, taking me like this,” he whispers, his lips brushing your skin, his hands steadying your hips. “Just breathe through the pain, okay?” You nod faintly, your breathing shaky as you start to move slowly on his cock, testing the rhythm, adjusting to the stretch of him inside you. His eyes stay locked on yours, filled with a mix of lust and genuine concern, watching your every reaction carefully. “That’s it,” he encourages softly, his hands guiding your hips with slow, patient movements as he helps you find a rhythm that works. He can see the effort in your face, the tightness in your jaw, and he adjusts his position slightly beneath you, making it easier for your body to sink down onto him. You throw your head back a little, your breath hitching as the sharp edge of pain starts to dull, replaced by something warmer. “This feels better now,” you admit, your voice small but full of relief. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, satisfaction and relief washing over his features as he watches you start to relax. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice low, soothing, and full of quiet praise. His hips start to move in sync with yours, slow and steady, matching your rhythm but keeping everything gentle and careful. “Does that feel better?” he asks, his voice brushing your ear as you nod heavily, your head falling onto his shoulder as your body finally starts to adjust.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer as he keeps moving slowly inside you, his hips rolling with careful precision. His lips find your neck again, kissing and sucking softly along your skin, his mouth lingering as his hands roam over your body, exploring every curve under your dress. His voice drops to a whisper, warm and steady against your ear. “You’re doing so well… feel how good we fit together,” he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Fuck yes,” you moan into his shoulder, your hands gripping onto him as your hips start to move more desperately now, the ache of before replaced by a growing, delicious need. His grip tightens on your hips as he feels your body responding, your movements more eager, more confident. His eyes darken, his voice dropping even lower, rough and husky with desire. “Just like that… ride my cock,” he groans, his hips starting to meet your thrusts with more hunger, the slow rhythm quickening as the pleasure builds. “This feels so good,” you breathe out, your voice raw with need, the words sending a pulse of satisfaction through him. A deep groan rips from his throat as your words sink in, his cock throbbing inside you at the confirmation he’s been desperate to hear. His mouth crashes onto yours, kissing you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands slide under your dress, gripping your ass cheeks firmly, spreading them apart slightly as he fucks up into you with more intensity.

You brace your hands on his shoulders, using them for leverage as you start to move more desperately on him, your hips working harder, bouncing up and down on his cock with growing urgency. His eyes stay locked on you, dark and hungry, watching every desperate movement, every little reaction. The sight is pure sin. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, his hands gripping your ass, holding you up as you ride him, the lewd, wet sounds of your pussy sliding along his length filling the room. You lean in closer, your face inches from his as your lips brush his. “It always should’ve been you,” you whisper, your voice shaky but full of raw honesty. The confession hits him like a shot to the chest. His mouth crashes onto yours, his lips claiming you in a rough, passionate kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth in the same rhythm his cock drives up into you, deep and desperate. Your words send a shudder through him, his arms tightening around you as he holds you closer, fucking you deeper, his pace rough but still controlled. He breaks the kiss just long enough to growl against your lips, his voice rough with possessiveness and need. “Only me… always only me.”

“I’ve always been so jealous seeing you with other girls,” you admit breathlessly, your voice shaky but raw with truth. He groans deeply at your words, the sound low and rough, that confession stirring something primal inside him, something possessive that’s been bottled up for far too long. “You have no idea how many times I wanted it to be you instead,” he growls, his voice strained with pure need as his hands tighten on your hips. His thrusts grow harder, faster, the frustration of all those years, all the missed chances, pouring into every desperate movement as he drives into you. You crash your lips onto his, kissing him hard now, the intensity of it almost overwhelming as years of pent-up tension and desire finally explode between you. He kisses you back just as fiercely, his tongue tangling with yours, matching the pace of his cock pounding into you, rough and relentless. The room fills with the sharp, wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh, your desperate moans blending with his deep groans, both of you completely lost in the moment, lost in each other.

He shifts suddenly, his strong arms lifting you with ease as he moves you onto your back on the couch. His hands grip both of your legs, pushing them up and placing them over his shoulders, spreading you wide open for him. The position leaves you completely exposed, vulnerable, and the moment he pushes inside again, you cry out, the new angle letting him hit impossibly deep. His eyes stay locked on the filthy, intoxicating sight of his cock disappearing into your soaked pussy over and over, the wet sounds filling the room as his hips snap forward with rough precision. His pace turns relentless now, your legs thrown over his shoulders giving him full control as he fucks you hard and deep. The couch creaks under the force of his thrusts, but neither of you care, the only thing that matters is the way he feels buried inside you, finally, completely. He leans forward slightly, adjusting his angle just enough to find that sweet spot deep within you, his eyes dark and wild as he watches your face twist in pure pleasure.

“Fuck…” he groans, his eyes locked on the spot where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside you over and over. Your pussy squeezes him tighter every time he hits that perfect spot, making his grip on your thighs tighten as his control slips. He starts doing it on purpose now, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, the sharp sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room. Your moans get louder with every thrust, raw and desperate, the sound making his cock throb even harder inside you. Your legs shake on his shoulders, your body trembling as you fall apart beneath him. “Su-bong,” you cry his name, loud and breathless, your voice cracking with need. The sound of it makes his eyes darken and his thrusts turn rougher, completely lost in you.

Hearing his name fall from your lips like that nearly shatters his control. “Fuck… say it again… say my name,” he growls through gritted teeth, his pace turning rougher, his hips slamming into you with raw urgency. Every muscle in his body is tense as he watches his cock slide in and out of your soaked pussy, the sight pushing him closer to the edge. “Su-bong,” you whimper again, his name spilling from your lips like a desperate prayer, wrecked and breathless. It drives him insane. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a hard, searing kiss, his tongue claiming yours as your moans melt into his mouth. His hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit with ease, his fingers rubbing tight circles with just the right pressure, determined to pull you over the edge with him.

Your legs start to tremble as the pleasure builds, your body giving you away. “Look at you… so fucking pretty when you’re about to come on my dick,” he growls, his eyes glued to your face, watching every contorted expression of pleasure take over. His hand slides down between your legs, spreading your lips apart so he can watch his thick cock slide in and out of your pink, swollen pussy, the sight making his jaw clench. “Please,” you whimper, your voice broken and needy, that sound making his cock throb because he knows exactly what it means. You’re close. He snaps his hips forward harder now, hitting that deep spot with every thrust, his pace rough and relentless. “You need more?” he rasps, though he knows you can barely speak when you’re like this. Your eyes say it all. He takes it as a yes. His hips slam into yours with enough force to make the couch slide across the floor, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse race as he fucks you into oblivion. “Cum for me,” he growls, his thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing harsh circles as his cock drives into you over and over.

You reach your climax hard, your legs shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure rips through you. “Jesus…” he groans, his eyes fixed on the way your pussy spasms around his cock, clenching tight, milking him. Your legs are practically convulsing on his shoulders, your body shaking with every aftershock. He knows he hit that spot just right when that exact sound leaves your lips — a high-pitched moan tangled with a desperate cry. It doesn’t take him long after that. With a deep, broken groan, he loses control completely, pumping his hot cum deep inside you. His entire body trembles as he holds your legs up high, burying himself to the hilt, filling you up completely. “Fuck… fuck… fuck…” he curses under his breath, his face twisting with raw pleasure as he rides it out. For a moment, neither of you move, both of you panting hard, his chest rising and falling as he stays buried inside you. Slowly, he lowers your legs down, watching his softening cock slide out along with a trickle of his cum dripping from your swollen pussy. The sight makes his possessiveness flare, his eyes dark with satisfaction at the messy proof of himself inside you. You collapse back, needing a moment to breathe, your body still trembling slightly. He knows you need the pause, his hand sliding into your hair as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, your scent mixed with sweat and sex still clinging to the air.

At that moment the sound of the front door unlocking cuts through the heavy silence. You both freeze, your eyes snapping to his as panic flickers between you. It’s already an hour later, the exact time your mom promised she’d be home after your party. His eyes widen in pure panic as he quickly pulls out of you, grabbing his clothes off the floor in a frantic rush. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath, running his hands through his messy hair as he fumbles to zip up his pants. The two of you scramble to fix yourselves, sitting quickly on the couch, trying your best to look normal despite the obvious flush on your cheeks and the faint scent of sex still lingering in the air. Your heart races as your mom steps into the living room. “Hi mom,” you greet her innocently, your voice far too sweet for the situation, praying she doesn’t notice the disaster you both just narrowly escaped.

“Hi sweetie,” your mom replies with a warm smile, completely oblivious as she drops her purse onto the table. “You two watch a movie?” she asks casually, glancing around the living room. Your hair is still a little messy, and Thanos’ shirt is buttoned unevenly, but thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice. “No, we were just finishing up cleaning from the party,” you reply smoothly, forcing a casual smile as your heart continues to race. Thanos sits beside you, nodding quickly, his face the picture of innocence despite the lingering flush on his cheeks.

“Mhmm,” your mom hums, clearly buying your lie, though mostly because she looks too tired to care. “I’m going to shower,” she announces, already turning to head down the hall. You both exhale in silent relief until she suddenly stops mid-step. “Oh, by the way,” Her words hang in the air as Thanos quickly looks down, finally noticing his shirt is buttoned completely wrong. His eyes widen for half a second before he casually starts unbuttoning and fixing it, trying his best to look unfazed. “Ah, just a little messy from cleaning,” he chuckles, forcing a relaxed grin as he fumbles with the buttons. Your mom just waves her hand dismissively, disappearing down the hall toward the bathroom.

The second you hear the door click shut, you both lock eyes, barely holding in your laughter. The adrenaline, the relief, the absolute chaos of the whole night sinks in, and you lean back against the couch, breathless and smiling. “We got away with that… barely,” you whisper. Thanos chuckles, still buttoning his shirt properly, his eyes soft but mischievous. “Worth it,” he mutters, flashing you a grin that promises this night was only the beginning.

[katseyeronic]

Gameboy

Gn!reader x Sorority!Daniela

summary: “One will always hurt more than the other person does.” Daniela rises to the top while you’re stuck at the bottom of the college chain. There was once a time where you two were the best of friends. Unsaid words, Unsaid feelings.

tags: angst (sorry..), Reader pining over Daniela, Curse words being thrown. Daniela lowkey being so mean. Complex!reader and Daniela. Flashbacks are in italics and bold!

a/n: first ever angst fic. scary i hope it lives up to the summary. Sorority Katseye truther over here :)

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“We can do this… right?” Daniela muttered hesitantly leaning against your locker looking around. Second day of college and she’s already overthinking.

“For the sixth time today Dani, Yes! We have each other.” You laughed shaking your head. Did anyone tell her how endearing she looked with her nervous gaze around the school? It amazed her how you were so sure that they would always have each other.

Daniela’s top priority was popularity. What’s the fastest way to get to the top? Easy. Join a sorority, have sorority sisters and be at the top of the college chain. She would be set for her whole college experience. Her second priority was to enjoy college and all it has to offer. Grades came third.

If anyone were to ask you what your first priority would be, it would Daniela. The girl you’ve crushed on since you were young. The girl you would do anything for. Your second would probably be getting through college life without falling under anyone’s radar. Just the thought of it makes you feel sick. Thirdly, studies.

“I’m going to be one of those girls soon.” Dani promised to herself seeing Sophia Laforteza and her group of sorority girls walk by. You raised a brow.

“As long as you don’t change yourself Dani.” You shook your head pushing her slight to get to your locker. Dani scoffed as if the thought was absurd.

“I would never.”

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

If you had known how big of a liar she was that day, you would have called her out on her bullshit. God, how could you ever be so gullible to believe Daniela.

“We aren’t friends” Daniela said that day and the disgust on her face and in her tone almost made you throw up right then and there. How dare she erase years of your love and friendship.

Those words rang in your ears every time you two make eye contact. Right now was no different as your eyes briefly met Daniela’s during a class. You turned back to the class. Those weren’t your Dani’s eyes anymore.

“Y/n, you’re partnered up with Daniela.” Your body froze. No. The universe has to be playing some cruel joke on both of you. There was once a time both of you would have been happy to be partners. Not anymore.

Once class had ended, you rushed to your teacher’s desk. “Mr. Thompson, there has to be a mistake, I can’t work with Daniela and-“ He placed his hand up.

“There’s nothing I can do.” He muttered and you could almost laugh in his face. He did this on purpose. You grumbled walking out and seeing Daniela waiting outside for you.

“It’s almost flattering how much you’re despising working with me.” Daniela said with a cocky smirk. Is she mocking you? That’s insane. “I’ll come over tonight and we can set up the small stuff.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even want to talk to her. You just simply nodded and walked off knowing she knew where you lived.

Walking with Lara, one of Daniela’s sorority sisters, you complained about everything considering she knew of the situation before she fully joined the house.

In all honesty, you never expected to get close with Lara yet somehow she slithered in picking up the pieces Daniela broke. Lara saw you for you and she never once judged it. She let you rant on how you never got to say the words you wanted to say to Daniela, what you would’ve done if you were to turn back time and she listened with open ears and arms.

You obviously never went to her house knowing Daniela would be there. She too never understood why Daniela denied being friends with you, It would have never jeopardised her spot in the sorority house.

“Yeah no, I think the universe is just out to get you.” Lara shrugged stifling a laugh as you told her how Daniela was coming over tonight and you haven’t necessarily told your mom that you two stopped being friends.

“Anyone told you how much of an ass you are?” You deadpanned as Lara gave you a small kiss on the cheek as an apology which quirked up a small smile. You felt eyes behind you but you shrugged it off. Probably one of the guys or girls ogling Lara again.

How wrong you were. Daniela was glaring at the small kiss Lara gave you on your cheek. That used to be her. Her glare softened when she realised that she had no one to blame but herself.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

When she first stepped foot into your house, she was shocked to be met with a hug from your mom. She thought your mom would have hated her but no. Here she was being hugged by your mom before dismissed to your room.

“I thought your mom would have hated me.” Daniela spoke up coming into your room and her eyes immediately landing on the frame on your bedside table. It was you and her, she was kissing your cheek, the same spot Lara did and you were closing your eyes with a small blush. You kept it.

“Didn’t tell her, didn’t want her to hate you.” And those words did it for her. She’d been an absolutely mean girl to you and you’re still thinking about her? She nodded briefly and you two got started on your work.

“You and Lara seem close.”

“She doesn’t hide her friendship with me.”

And all those shots were repetitive. One of you bringing something up while working and the other shooting back with their own snarky remark.

Everyday you two would work on it, slowly the tension fell and you had actually started to let your guard down slowly but surely. It didn’t have to mean anything but everyday the light in you dwindles down seeing Daniela ignore you again and again.

“I met this guy and-“ Yeah that did it for you. She met a guy and she’s telling you all about it like you two were actual friends? How pathetic can she be? It’s as if she got over the fact that she completely stopped being your friends just to rise to the top.

You didn’t want to say anything, you saw how happy she was rambling about it while you two worked on the finishing touches of the project but this bitter feeling in your chest was slowly rising.

“Good for you, Daniela.” You muttered half heartedly, eyes not looking at her but to your project instead. Leave it up to you to realise you still have feelings for Daniela Avanzini. She paused, looking at you, trying to decipher your thoughts. You used to be an open book to her and only her.

“You used to call me Dani.” Daniela said waiting for a reaction. Anything to show that you cared enough. “You used to care.”

“You used to want to be my best friend, Daniela. Things change. People change.” Your eyes met her and for the first time since you two stopped being friends, she saw how drained you looked. A stark contrast from how she looked.

She was genuinely happy. Her smile was brighter, her laughter brought people joy and yet it only brought you pain to hear how happy she was without you. “The sorority is having a party this weekend.” She invited subtly. “You should come.”

To you, it was a glimpse of hope. Your heart fluttered slightly. Was she not ashamed anymore? Did she want to be friends? To her however, it was nothing but pity, hoping that you can get out there and meet new friends. She wanted you to move on like she has.

“I’ll come.”

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

Coming to the party was your biggest regret, immediately you felt out of place. This was what she wanted? A whole area of people drinking, sweat. Disgusting.

“You came! Oh my god it took me months to convince you and Dani only had to spend a day with you?” Lara grinned hugging you and passing you a drink immediately. You forced a small smile ignoring how people call Daniela, Dani. That used to only be you calling her that.

While Lara rambled on about some girl, you looked at the dance floor seeing Daniela dance. Making eye contact with her, she didnt move her gaze away while you stared at her. The dance was sultry. Does she know what she’s doing to you?

And then you see it, that one thing that made you realise, she knew about your feelings all along. That smirk. She smirked like she was proud of always stringing you along.

Holy shit. This was always a game to her. Since the start, she had managed to give you just enough to still have feelings but never enough to think she wants anything more.

Those eye contacts she did, those small smiles, the bumping into each other. You had thought they were all mockery, bullying. Anything. You never once thought it would be a subtle claim. A reminder of the hold she has on your heart and oh she is squeezing that heart enough that it hurts but never till it breaks. A reminder that she exists.

“Hey are you listening?” Lara asked concerned etched on her face, you broke eye contact and looked at her. “I need air.” You mutter running outside for air. What the actual fuck? It was a game and she was the game master. You were the puppet.

“Hey? You left so abruptly and Lara didn’t know when I asked, are you okay?” Daniela appeared touching your shoulder and for the first time ever, you flinched from her touch.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You spat looking at her with tear filled eyes. “This was all a game to you. You knew about my feelings! You knew and Oh my God! Why was I so stupid?” You paced and Daniela’s eyes turned sharp. Oh fuck.

“Everyone knew.” Daniela confirmed softly watching as your gaze turned to her in disbelief. “You were pathetic with it.”

“Go to hell, Daniela.” You chuckled bitterly. This was never your Dani. Since the day you stepped into college, Dani was gone and replaced her was Daniela. “I loved you.”

“You still do.” Daniela said like it was a known fact and you almost wanted to smack that smirk off her face. How was this not hurting her too? Maybe it was. No one really knew except Daniela. She hesitated, not knowing if she should say something. “I loved you too.”

For once, you didn’t know if she was lying to pull you back in or not. You looked at her and all you saw was a stone cold expression. She was probably lying right? “You’re so fucking manipulative.” You shook your head walking off.

“You were easy to manipulate!” Daniela yelled out as she saw you walk off. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to get you to fight with her. To stay for once but you took it as her being far too gone to be saved so you continued walking. This time never looking back. This might have been a game to her but oh it was everything to you.

You didn’t turn back, you wanted to but you couldn’t. You needed this ounce of self respect to walk off and never talk to her again but if you had just turned, you would see a glimpse of Dani. a glimpse of a tear falling before she wiped it off quick. You would see her shoulders slumping like she was drained too.

But why would you? The two of you only cared about your own feeling. Too hurt to see past each other’s pain. She levelled up and you? you had quit the game. A game you never signed up for and a game she was unaware she had subconsciously made.

Congratulations, Both of you lost.

Would you like to restart from the beginning or continue on?

[bullseyelover]

random dex character analysis lol.

i’ve been thinking a lot about dex wearing the balaclava again in season 2 of born again and how strange that choice feels, especially considering everything he’s been through since season 3. in season 1, it makes sense. he was fresh out of the psych ward, still under vanessa’s control, and he believed the job was a one time thing. kill foggy and benjamin, and vanish. it was supposed to be clean, precise. so of course he wore the mask to protect his identity. he even threw a smoke bomb before entering josie’s not just to cause chaos, but probably to avoid being seen. it was meant to be surgical. like a professional hit.

but that’s not what happened. he doesn’t act like a methodical hitman in that scene, we know he is capable of being one but in this scene he’s not controlled. he’s unraveling. phil silvera (the stunt director for daredevil) said it himself that dex isn’t killing for the thrill, he’s killing anything he sees as a threat. at first, it’s just people with weapons. but he’s so on edge, so paranoid, that it spirals. soon, he’s killing people who haven’t even seen him. he’s trapped in this kill or be killed mindset, and the second someone flinches, he reacts. and when he finally snaps out of it just for a second he whispers, “what have you done?” like he blacked out. like he doesn’t even remember doing it. like he’s scared of what just happened because what was supposed to be a clean job had spiraled out of his control. but it doesn’t stop there. he keeps going because his body’s in survival mode. he doesn’t know what else to do.

then in season 2 he’s still wearing the balaclava. and yeah, visually i get it. the suit is striking. but narratively it doesn’t hold up. dex isn’t hiding anymore. everyone knows who he is. fisk knows, matt knows, the public knows. after the trial, his face and name are already tied to everything that happened at josie’s. his escape from prison was probably posted in the papers. there’s no anonymity left to protect. and honestly dex would want fisk to know it’s him. he want fisk to see his face while he tears his empire down. wearing the mask just feels off unless they’re gonna give us an in universe reason why. it can make sense considering the whole storyline with fisk hating vigilantes and people in masks and blah blah but he’d have to recreate that whole suit from scratch too. the old one would’ve been ripped up and in evidence custody.

it would actually be way scarier if dex didn’t wear a mask until he finally puts on the iconic bullseye mask from the comics. because when someone wears a mask to commit a crime, the implication is that they plan on people surviving. they’re hiding their identity for a reason. but someone like dex walking into a room with a knife and no mask, that’s terrifying. that means he doesn’t plan on leaving any witnesses. that means he doesn’t care if he’s recognized. that’s way more unhinged than anything else.

with dex wearing the balaclava you have to factor in his sensory issues. dex never wore a tie in season 3. his collars were always open, even in formal settings. to me, that’s a clear sign of sensory discomfort. and it tracks with him being neurodivergent, which we already know he is. the only time he ever wore tight clothing was the daredevil suit, and even that looked like it was pushing his limits. so wearing something like a balaclava which would be tight, hot, suffocating, that has to be overstimulating as hell. but maybe that’s the point. maybe it’s a way for him to punish himself. or maybe it helps him focus. it could be a kind of sensory grounding or even a trigger that helps him disassociate. like flipping a switch. putting on the mask could help him shut everything else out. turn into the version of himself that can kill then have a milkshake afterwards and not care about potential goodness, just revenge.

it makes sense when you realize he was going through withdrawal at josie’s. we saw the meds. that man was on at least eight pills, probably multiple times a day. a combo of SSRIs, benzos, antipsychotics, and mood stabilizers. not for healing, but for sedation. the system didn’t want to help him, they wanted to contain him. dull everything that made him him, but also what made him dangerous. and it worked. dex in episode 9 was barely responsive. sweaty, unfocused, dissociating out the window. couldn’t even hold a pen. he was being erased. and if vanessa hadn’t pulled him out, he would’ve stayed like that forever. but she didn’t save him, she just reactivated his pain.

dex going off all those meds cold turkey after nearly a decade would’ve been catastrophic both physically and mentally. we’re talking full system collapse. the benzos and antipsychotics alone would cause tremors, nausea, cold sweats, muscle cramps, disorientation, rebound paranoia, and emotional whiplash. his sleep would be wrecked, his coordination off. he’d probably be shaking, dizzy, hyper sensitive to noise and light. on top of that, he’s got to have chronic spinal pain from season 3, which the meds were likely numbing too so now it’s back in full force. and emotionally everything he’d been suppressing for eight years, the grief, the guilt, the rage, is coming back raw and unchecked. no regulation. no buffers. just pure nervous system overload. so when he walks into josie’s, he’s not walking in as a hired assassin. he’s walking in as someone with no brakes left. no filter between thought and action. it’s not all premeditated. it’s survival instinct. he’s scared. overstimulated. furious. and the second things go sideways, his brain goes straight to destroy the threat. and that’s what makes it so terrifying. he’s not in control. he’s reacting to a body and mind that’s been chemically shattered.

that’s what makes josie’s hit so messy. if he were in control, he could’ve just sniped foggy and vanished. clean and efficient. but that’s not what he does. he throws the smoke bomb, walks into the chaos, and kills two people immediately. he clearly dressed for a fight with his suit, knives, gloves but that doesn’t mean it was planned. he probably had less than two days between getting released and carrying out the hit. he had no time to recover. he was still in withdrawal. his brain chemistry was shot. physically, mentally, emotionally he’s fried. he’s walking into that scene running purely on instinct. just go, go, go. self preservation mode. there’s no grand plan.

but he has resentment, he says “hello, karen” like someone who hasn’t forgotten what she did. but that doesn’t mean he came there to go on a rampage. that part wasn’t intentional. it was triggered. and once it started, it couldn’t stop. and all of it. the withdrawal, the sensory overload, the fear, the rage gets projected into that suit. into that mask. into the version of himself who can’t feel anything but violence.

but he’s not bullseye yet. but he’s getting there. and maybe the scariest part is even he doesn’t know if he wants to stop. in season 2, dex wearing the same suit again but this time with a bullseye on the mask feels different. it’s not about hiding anymore. it’s not about the fisk’s orders. it’s about ownership. he’s not wearing the mask because he’s being used, he’s choosing it. and adding the bullseye symbol to the suit is his way of reclaiming everything that broke him. he wore the suit for vanessa at josie’s, but now he’s turning it into his own. whether that’s empowering or self destructive, it’s both. because for dex, violence and identity have always been intertwined. so putting a bullseye on his forehead is like saying fine this is what he is now. the fisks made him into this, so he’s gonna own it. even if it destroys him into becoming fully bullseye because maybe part of him thinks it’s the only identity that ever really fit even though deep down, he still doesn’t know who he is without someone else pulling the strings.

it’s important to remember that none of dex’s trauma, withdrawal, sensory issues, overmedication, or manipulation excuses what he’s done. not in season three, not at josie’s, not ever. he was always dangerous. even before fisk, dex was not an innocent man destroyed by a villain. he was already suffering and already volatile. he was already doing things that crossed lines. but he was trying. he had structure, he had control. he was holding himself together the only way he knew how. at the start of season three he could be considered an antihero. not someone good, but someone trying to be, in his own way. and that’s what makes his downfall so brutal. because fisk didn’t create the monster, he used what was already there. he took dex’s mental illness, his loneliness, his desperation for meaning and connection, and he weaponized it. he groomed him. exploited his pain. and then when dex outlived his usefulness, he threw him away.

but dex was always in control of his actions. he made the choices, even though he was manipulated into them and now he’s living with the consequences of them. understanding his story isn’t about excusing what he did it’s about seeing the full truth of who he is. after the events of season three, the court didn’t send him to prison. they sent him to a psychiatric facility. that tells you everything. they saw someone beyond punishment, someone they didn’t even think could be rehabilitated. not a man who needed help, but one who needed to be contained. to be silenced. sedated. erased.

and that’s what makes his return in born again so compelling and so tragic. because he’s not quiet anymore. season two could show us a man who’s clawing his way back to himself. not fully bullseye yet, not fully lost either. he wants revenge and autonomy. and if there’s a “good” way to get it, maybe he’ll take it. but if there’s not, he’ll burn every bridge without hesitation. dex should become a supervillain, that is what the character of bullseye needs to be. wilson bethel said dex’s arc is about redemption but not in the way you expect. and maybe that’s because real redemption for dex isn’t about being a hero, it’s about being honest. it’s about accepting who he is which is someone the system failed, someone who tried to be good, someone who was broken and used and manipulated but who still gets up. who still fights. but not to be a hero, but to be truly and unashamed in who he is.

[softer-ua]

Honestly I think Hori did the best job of showing a fantasy bigotry because IT DOESNT MAKE FUCKING SENSE

Which is why it works because real life bigotry is fundamentally nonsense cruelty, like yeah you can trace it back to origins that’ll explain how we got to this fucked up point(usually by starting from an even more mind boggling fucked up point)

like it doesn't make sense for Deku to be considered plain and unlikeable for not having a quirk when nonvisible and kinda useless quirks exist

it doesn't make sense for Shoji or Toga or Shinso's quirks to be considered so dangerous and villain coded but not Bakugo’s, no ones ever concerned he might accidentally hurt someone and no one checks him when he does so intentionally

or Endevors, he runs towards crumbling buildings with open flames on his face, and no one ever checks for a broken gas line???!

But Bakugo and Endevor are rich

I've brought it up before but the Bakugo's are like rich rich, not just upper middle class, just look at their house and Katsuki just had the money to pay Kiri back already on hand and he gets to go hiking frequently and have a private music tutor. His parents work in the fashion industry in a world we're millions probably need specialized clothing and then they get Mitsuki to be the face of it who's quirk is basely having a good skin care routine so she's not quirkless but she isn't visibly altered from a quirk mutation either

And Endeavor literally bought his wife so he could do eugenics and no laws or public backlash ever occurred

theres no real rhyme or reason for the quirk bias's beyond keeping the class status quo, in the end even literal super powers doesn't change that the trifecta of money, power, and looks being what gets you ahead and what keeps you there.

just having quirks didn't make the world more equal at all, it didn't even really change anything, the powerful just got another tool in the bigotry tool box.

it takes drastic social changes to break up systemic issues, and even then it takes hard well enforced policy changes, you can’t have one without the other

which will make it interesting to see what Hawks can do, will the status quo jut right itself again?

They're still living in a capitalist police state with hero's on top, even if the opportunity to be a hero has widened an inch, so can Hawks actually work towards changing that or is it another example of the change being politness based again?

bigotry isn't pc but there's almost never been strong enough material changes towards equality and equity, and what little has been done is currently under attack globally

for a bit there a lot of slurs were on there way out of casual use in the USA but the social backlash against material changes of ending segregation and insisting that all children with disabilities are guaranteed a public education has lead to a rise in charter schools eating up public funds and funds being cut in general

And because that’s been allowed to happen we got trump

will whatever policies Hawks puts in place actually stick, or will their society see a rise in mini UA's we're kids like Bakugo with "real promise" get to go to private schools, kids like Toga will go to charter schools to get more specialized schooling sicne she's having a hard time with her peers, and kids like Uaraka can maybe get in to either one on a lottery system

and kids like Deku are left in drafty underfunded overcrowded schools where only kids like him, with the drive(and the time to do so) to work 100 times harder than everyone(else ruining their young minds and bodies), so he can, not even succeed really, but simply stay afloat

[lynxgriffin]

Hi! I'm going to say something that I was thinking of while eating (very precise). I was wondering why hasn't Toriel talked/called out Asgore about his behaviour? You know, the whole "giving you flowers+showing you awkward affection that you didn't ask for+hiding in the bush near the church like a creep". And before you say it, yes I know that he has to understand when to stop being a stalking weirdo, but people like that don't stop unless, and I quote Susie herself, "you scream NO to their faces", so why hasn't she done that already? And no I don't believe the only times he did this was in game, I think it lasts longer than this (for her sake I hope not, but for this theory let's admit that it does) The reason, is not only because Toriel is trying to be the bigger person, or that she doesn't want to make a scene in front of people (or Kris and Susie in Chapter 4's case), even if that's a high possibilty. I think she mostly doesn't want to confront him, and the past in some extension. In Chapter 2, when Susie comes to her house with Kris, she says that she's happy Kris made a friend. "MADE a friend", except that her of all people should know that Kris and Noelle are supposed to be friends since they are kids. And Toriel isn't aware of all of Kris' activities, even at School, so she wouldn't know that the two don't really talk as much as before. In Chapter 2 and 4, when Asgore arrives, she just leaves (and even thanks him in Chapter 4 for the flowers, which, by the way, made me sick. Because unfortunately for her, in Asgore's head, it's just an invitation to try again). Then you have the scene at the end, when she's dancing with Sans while drunk. In this scene, I agree with most that it's probably the happiest she's ever been so far in the game (and in a long time too), and I'm thinking the reason why is because she doesn't have to think of the past. She doesn't have to think about Asgore, she doesn't have to think about Dess going missing and the families being broken, she doesn't have to think about the dispute(s) she had with Asgore on the subject and their hard divorce, she doesn't have to think about any of that. The past is actively eating her inside, and it's hurting her so much that she would rather take Asgore's harassment and ignoring it, rather than talk to him and having to deal with it. And Kris' reaction would reflect this, since unlike her, they don't have a choice. They can't ignore the past, they can't ignore what happened (since they probably have been confronting for a while now). By the way, I'm finishing by saying that this isn't a jab at Toriel, at all. I'm simply theorising based on her reactions to Asgore's behavior, and came to the conclusion that the dance scene of Chapter 4 is litteraly her coping. And in conclusion: I hope she/we gets to beat up Asgore later. Have a good day!

Here's the thing: I think it's quite possible that she HAS given him some hard, strong NOs in the past, and we just haven't seen them personally. "The family's fighting again" from Tenna seems to imply that there have, perhaps, been some pretty bad shouting matches between the Dreemurrs in the past, and that could easily have carried over after they divorced, too. Asgore's problem is that he is still thinking of this as a misunderstanding, that if he just proves "what really happened" then Toriel won't tell him "no, leave me alone" anymore.

And if that happens often enough...if giving Asgore that firm "leave me alone" doesn't work, well, is it surprising that she'd stop trying? Especially if he does it in public, in front of other people. "I can't lose my temper in front of this funny skeleton I want to get to know better, so I'll be cordial." "I have to be polite with Kris here, and especially with their friend I invited to church." When you're in that kind of situation, you have to pick your battles. And if she knows Asgore is not going to get the hint no matter what she does, and people are going to just kind of brush it off...well, is it worthwhile to escalate the situation? Or is it better to just leave as quick as she can?

That said, I do definitely think that Toriel is desperate to move on to something better while Asgore is still stuck firmly in the past. And yes, Kris is in the worst position of all, with the past basically hanging like a millstone on their neck...they can't ignore it even if they wanted to. Toriel's desperation to move forward and ignore the past is a stumbling block for her in terms of helping Kris with this nightmare they're dealing with, but it's not shocking that that's her method of dealing with things when juxtaposed against how Asgore is treating her.

[congratufuckyoulations]

We jumpin’ Big Mom rn Pt.10

!!!WHOLE CAKE ISLAND SPOILERS!!!

Word count- 9.4k

Masterlist Pt.9

A/N- I just wanna say IN THE ANIME THE COUCH IS WHITE. So when I describe it as white, just go along with it. I enjoyed writing this chapter mainly because the little mafia outfits are so hard likeeee stop playin.

Straw Hat reader. Strawhats x reader, slight and i mean slight Luffy x reader, Sanji x reader

Warning- SLOWPACED, fluff, sum smoking

!!!Sorry for any grammar errors!!!

“HEY! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? WARTY-HEAD! HEY!” Your captain throws insults at the man sitting in front of our cell. The book is now open as we sit behind bars.

You watch Luffy stretch his arms as he drags himself to the bars of the cell. Slamming against it, trying to get the man's attention

“WOULD YOU SHUT UP? I'M TRYING TO READ!” The man shouts, looking up from his book

“Screw you! I’m gonna destroy this dumb thing!” Luffy barks back, biting on the railing. 

 You raise an eyebrow at your captain. The guard shouts at Luffy, telling him to stop.

“Quit it.” You grunt to Luffy, who was already missing a tooth from earlier.

 A knock on the door catches your attention. Someone was coming in, and with your luck, it was probably a Charlotte sibling back to taunt you all. 

 The guard turns to the door upon hearing it open. The footsteps echo throughout the room.

“What the occasion, Pudding!” The guard looks away from us, turning over to the girl entering the room

You tense up seeing the girl. None of you knew if she was still trustworthy. Luffy gasped at the sight of the girl.

“Pudding?” Nami questions from beside you

“Good, it’s you! Let us out of here! This guy is making me mad!” Luffy instructs Pudding, his arms still stretching across the cell

“Luffy, shush!” You yelp.

The chances of Pudding helping you were slim, but you still wouldn’t want Pudding to be punished because of you guys knowing her.

“We can’t talk to the enemy right here!” Nami adds as the girl stays silent

“You are being very quiet, Pudding. Can I help you?” The guard suggests still looking at the girl

“Could you open the book? I just need to say something to them before the wedding.” Pudding asks

 An uneasy feeling set in the bottom of your stomach.

Watching a Chess guard open up the bars for her with a bookmark. Pudding steps through, peering up at her from your place on the floor. 

“This has gone all wrong.” She says in her soft tone.

“Hey! What gives! We went to the coast like you said!” Luffy expresses his annoyance toward the girl. His teeth were clenched together.

“Cut it out! You're gonna get her in trouble!” Nami whispers across you to the boy

“Pudding.” You mutter, looking at the girl back at you all.

“My brothers and sisters have done terrible things to you. You’re all beaten up. I’m so sorry!” Pudding apologizes, lowering to her knees in front of us

“No, it’s-” Nami starts, but pauses, seeing the girl's saddened face.

 Your brain is playing tricks, not knowing whether to trust the girl or not. Frowning, you listen to what else she has to say.

 Pudding continues to apologize for not being able to meet at the coast. While Nami consoles her 

“I came here because there’s something important, I think I should tell you.” Pudding trails off. 

 Studying her body movement. Her hands were in her lap as her head bowed.

“What’s wrong! Just say it!” Luffy says

“The truth is, I met with Sanji and he proposed to me. He made me so happy, but still, I know he only said that to be nice to me. The truth is I'm only causing everyone trouble.” Pudding starts shaking her head as she finishes

The thought of Sanji proposing to her made you sick if you're being honest. But you knew what to expect when coming here.

“But don't worry, I decided I won't marry him.” She says, sending you a smile. A wave of relief washed over you. 

 It felt like pounds had been lifted from your shoulders.

Not physically, though, as the aching feeling in your arms reminds you of your current position.

 Your hands numb from hanging above your head for so long. You don't know how to reply as she smiles, leaning closer. 

 Cupping her hands around her mouth for only you, Nami, and Luffy to hear.

Your captain leans close as you and Nami stay still, listening from where you sat.

“The reason we’re not getting married is because that lovelorn fool played right into my hands.” Pudding continues as her voice darkens at the end of her sentence

Snapping your head toward the girl. Eyes widening, seeing a third eye in the middle of her forehead looking at you and Nami.

 Sitting in shock understanding the real truth behind the marriage

“And during the wedding ceremony. I plan to shoot him full of holes. And as for you guys. Not one of you is leaving this place alive either!” Pudding whispers, turning to face you

Tensing up as her hand cuffs around your face. Her grip firm, making you look up at her 

“Don’t look so upset. I would never actually look toward a guy like him if it wasn’t for Mama. Besides, pirate-scum like you two belong together.” She grins, her face only a few inches away from yours

 Turning your head to the side as she finishes. Forcing her to let go, she stands heading for the bars of the cell.

“Hey! Pudding, wait! Is this a joke?” Luffy calls out

“Well, goodbye! You miserable little rats!” Pudding turns with fake tears streaming down her face. 

 Exiting through the bars, not turning back once as the door of the room shut behind her. 

“We should've known it was a trap,” You grunt, pulling at your arms once more. Frustrated being nailed to the wall

“You're right. Now we are stuck.” Nami mumbles, head hanging low

“We've got to get out of here!” Luffy says, running his body over and over into the cell. The book shook from his force.

“Cut it out, Luffy!” Nami tells our captain, lifting her head

“No way! I gotta go!” Luffy replies, trying other ways to get through the bars.

Turning to face the navigator, making eye contact, you sigh.

“There’s no way out.” You mutter to the girl

“Yup. This idiot is gonna drive us mad.” She whispers as her eyes dart to Luffy, who is behind you, colliding with the stone once more.

“And why aren’t you saying anything to him?” Nami questions you, slightly annoyed that you weren’t helping her calm the captain

“It's Luffy.” You reply, turning to see Luffy now wrapping his arms around himself

"Yeah. I guess that says a lot." Nami utters

Your eyebrows furrowed together as he continued to wrap himself up in his arms.

“Luffy, don’t!” You gasp, making Nami turn to the captain as well

His arms stretch, hands still stuck to the wall. You could hear his skin beginning to rip as small tears formed.

“LUFFY! STOP! YOU’RE GONNA RIP THEM OFF!” Nami screams from beside you, squirming, watching him continue to twist

“DON'T DO IT! YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO FIGHT!” You explain, trying to stop your captain from traumatizing both you and Nami

“YES, I WILL! I'LL STILL HAVE MY LEGS! WE GOT TO GET OUT!” Luffy yells, slipping as his arm unwind from around him. 

 Spinning around, he is flung back beside you. Slouching against the wall, dizzy.

Luffy quickly shoots up, getting right back to wrapping his arms around himself as you and Nami beg for him to stop.

“NO MORE, LUFFY!” You pleaded, turning away from the sight

 Luffy runs around in place, stretching his arms as far as possible. Still attempting to rip off his arms.

 You and Nami shout at him to stop as blood begins to appear. This had been going on for a while already. It almost felt like an eternity. 

“All right, let’s talk!” The guard appears on the other side of the bars. Now out of his chair, standing right outside the cell.

“What do you want? Can’t you see we’re busy?” Nami shouts at the man as you turn to glare at him.

“Mama's instructions were for me to obtain Lola’s whereabouts by whatever means necessary.” He explains

“I won’t tell! I’d never betray my friends!” Nami replies

“Very well. Guess you want to be tortured.” The man replies, turning away to grab a crossbow.

“I’m going to shoot you every five seconds.” He says, loading the arrow into the bow. 

“Hold on! Give us a moment!” You yelp, head snapping between your crewmate and Big Mom's son

“No need. I’ll be shooting you every ten seconds.” The man explains, making you and Nami both gasp

“You’ll kill us! She didn’t even really know Lola!” Nami pleads 

“I’ll stop when you choose to talk.” The guard continues

“SCREW YOU, WART-HEAD! YOU’LL HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME!” Luffy joins in stretching his arms to place his body in front of you and Nami.

”IT’S OKAY I’LL FINISH TAKING OFF MY ARMS IN JUST A SEC! HOLD ON!” Luffy tries to reassure you. 

“No, that either!” You and Nami plead with the two

“QUIT BEING BABIES!” Luffy and the guard shout at you two. 

 Nami continues to beg for them to stop, as you hear the door creaking open up again. The guard turns to the door, looking taken aback as a voice calls out.

“Hey! Is anybody in here?” A husky voice gets louder as they enter the room

“Whoa, whoa, I thought you were forbidden from entering the castle?” The guard asks voice filled with fear. Raising his hands in defense as the footsteps get closer

“This island is descending into chaos. Now it has reached you as well. I hope you can forgive me for this.” The man out of sight replies. The next words that follow make everything click

“Now, Five-Thousand Brick Fist!” His voice calls out as a blue fist meets the guard's stomach. The stance of a man you knew well, as he sends the guard flying from his place

“JIMBEI!” You smile along with the rest of the crew

Your call catches the man’s attention as he turns to the cell.

“Great timing! Why are you here?” Luffy questions as Jimbei nears the bars separating you all

“I heard you were taken captive. I’m relieved to see that you're well. We have catching up to do, but right now you must escape.” Jimbei explains 

“THANK YOU!” You and Nami cry as Luffy laughs, happy to see the familiar face

 You listened to Jimbei explain the room that we were in. The books filling the room held pages of real living things. Ranging from whatever Big Mom desired, Nami, beside you, appears in a blue outfit she took from one of the prisoners.

Her old outfit was burned from the fire Jimbei had to use to burn the book down. To free us. Luckily, you and Luffy's outfits were mostly intact.

“So what are you doing here?” You ask, peering up at the Fishman

“As the captain of the Sun Pirates, I have an affiliation with Big Mom and her crew,” Jimbei answers.

“So what do you call this?” Nami asks, motioning to the events leading up to freeing us, a known enemy of Big Mom

“I suppose you’d call it a rebellion. No turning back now.” Jimbei laughs

“So, did you resolve all your responsibilities?” You question referring back to Fishman Island when Luffy had asked him to join the crew

“I threw them aside!” He replies smiling

Footsteps grow louder, and shouting is heard outside the door of the room.

“Great, they already know,” Nami grunts, facing the door. 

“Not surprising. Here, follow me.” Jimbei instructs us to follow him when we hear a thud against the floor

Turning, you see Luffy on the floor.

“So weak. Can’t move too hungry.” Luffy says lazily as he rests on the floor

“At a time like this? Truly?” Jimbei states not able to believe your captains actions. The guard’s shouts are only getting louder.

“I forgot he said he wouldn’t eat anything else unless it’s from Sanji.” You inform Jimbei that Luffy’s stomach is growling

“Ignore it. I’m fine. I need to warn him!” Your captain declares, standing up from his place on the floor

“Look after Y/N and Nami, Jimbei!” Luffy orders turning as he runs up a staircase that leads somewhere random. 

“Think carefully, Luffy!” You call out, watching him get further away

“Just a word of caution, there are many guards outside!” Jimbei informs the boy

“I’LL BE FINE, I PROMISE!” Luffy shouts back, inflating his fist, getting ready to fight as he climbs the stairs

“He’s not even listening.” Nami grunts, shaking her head beside you, before turning to Jimbei and you.

“We must hurry! I know a way!” Jimbei announces guiding me and Nami to the door

“Get ready!” He says, hands finding the handles of the door, ready to open them up to the rushing guards.

 Some time had passed. You and Nami have been reunited with the rest of the crew. 

 Chopper and Carrot had successfully taken over the mirror dimension Brulee created. Taking her and Diesel, another one of Big Mom's crewmates as prisoners.

 While in this mirror dimension, the crew worked at getting Brook back as well. Who had been taken by Big Mom herself. 

 You were thankfully able to sit that one out. Beyond terrified knowing you would for sure make a noise waking her up

 After the crew saved Brook. The older man informed us of the copy of the Red Poneglyph that he obtained. Hidden inside his skull, away, sneaking it right under Big Mom’s nose.

 You sit on your knees on the purple floor of the mirror world. Carrot and Nami do the same as we observe the piece of mirror in Chopper's hand

“Do you think he’ll be able to hear us through this tiny shard?” The reindeer questions

“I think so. When I talked to you before, the mirror broke apart. But the pieces should be on that tree. Let's try,” Nami replies

“Hey! Are you there? Hey! By the tree! Hello! Answer me if you can hear this!” Chopper shouts into the mirror

“Over here, Chopper!” Luffy's voice rings through the mirror

 You gasp with the crew hearing the boy's voice. Smiling, hearing his cheerful response.

“It’s Luffy! Hey!” Chopper calls out as we stare at the mirror, seeing Luffy's smiling face appear in the mirror

“You were right!” Chopper grins at Nami as everybody cheers, hearing his voice

“Why is Chopper's voice coming from a mirror?” Sanji's voice speaks up as well. 

 Your heart almost skipped a beat hearing him talk like everything was normal. Like this was another adventure 

“Luffy was that Sanji?” Nami questions

“Uh-huh, he’s here with me,” Luffy confirms that the cook was with him

“Nice, so it all worked out! You were able to find him! Good job!” Chopper congratulates the captain. A cute smile on his face as he laughs

“So how are ya?” Luffy asks the crew

“Happy to report everybody is safe in the mirror, for now!” Carrot answers as you wait for your captain to finish

“Yeah, we’re fine! Y/N can’t stop smiling now.” Nami teases, leaning close to the mirror. 

 You catch her side-eyeing you, waiting for your reaction

“Be quiet!” You hiss at the woman, softly pushing her head away from the mirror.

 Frowning slightly, realizing your smile had grown at the mention of the cook. Chopper holds the mirror up for you to talk into.

“We are glad you’re safe, Sanji.” You speak up quickly, trying to change the subject

“I’m glad you’re safe, too.” His voice replies, making your face grow warm. 

 Heart picking up its pace, doing circles hearing him sound so calm.

“You missed it. Brook was able to get a copy of the poneglyph after all.” You grin as the group begins to gush and cheer on the man's big accomplishment. It was no simple task 

 Letting out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding in. Grateful for Brooks' accomplishments, allowing you to distract your crew from your flustered state. 

 What were they going to do now that Sanji was gonna be back. Would things just fall into place like usual. Grunting at the thought, you shake the thought, listening in on the conversation.

“While it's great you found Sanji. I hope things are settled?” Pedro asks as the cheering for our accomplishments quiets down

Silence passes over the group as Luffy doesn’t reply right away. His silence answers the question

“Being honest. Not exactly.” Luffy answers, earning shocked replies from the crew.

 Your arms crossed over your chest. So things were still tense

“So here's the deal. We’re crashing Big Mom’s Tea party and busting up Sanji’s wedding. Plus, we’re gonna save his family too. After that, he's coming home for good!” Luffy announces, smiling through the mirror

 Another moment of silence surrounds the group. You grunt at your captain's words.

Crashing one of Big Mom’s Tea Parties after the number of times you’ve been warned seemed scary. It was a risk, a huge one at that. But Sanji would be leaving with the crew this way

“Let’s do it!” You and the crew agree, smiling. Chopper and Carrot cry, just happy to have the cook back

“By the way Sanji, don’t think I’ll let you off easy for freaking us out like that. I’ll never forgive you.” Nami says sternly into the mirror

“It’s not time for that. Let’s focus on getting out of here with Sanji.” You interrupt the conversation

“My sweet Y/N! How I missed your kindness.” Sanji’s charming voice pours from the mirror.

“It's good you’re feeling normal, but for now, Jimbei has a pretty good plan. He ran me through it as well. I think Luffy should hear him out.” You explain as Chopper takes the mirror over to Jimbei

 The Fishman explains his plan of teaming up with Capone Bege. Jimbei explained the man’s past.

 He was ruthless and cold-blooded. The man was smart and even teamed up with Big Mom to make it in the New World.

 Jimbei knew that Bege was granted to be the security of this wedding. But what Big Mom didn’t know was that Bege had planned to take her head that day as well. 

“Luffy. I have yet to make my main. After you learned about the scheme Big Mom planned, we knew you would want to help Sanji. So can we really afford to make an enemy of Bege?” Jimbei explains

“The tea party starts at ten in the morning, which gives us very little time for the eleven of us to come up with a plan. You must consider this. Therefore, to succeed, I propose we team up with him.” Jimbei announces 

“WHAT!” Luffy gasped into the mirror.

The boy takes a moment to think some more before looking back at the mirror

“I think you’re right on.” Luffy agrees

“See!” You grin at Nami beside, who refused Jimbei’s idea earlier

“Right once again,” Nami mutters from beside you

“I need to start making bets on these things.” You smile, bumping your shoulder into the navigator as she smiles warmly

“Don’t. You’ll make me broke.” She jokes back, but you knew she was serious. Money was more her thing anyway. 

Nami was always nice enough to spare you when it came to money. For the most part. 

“You heard his back story. Bege is a no-good crook.” Brook tells Luffy

“I dunno! Can’t hurt, it’ll be worth a try!” Luffy brushes off the crew's refusals

“I already made the arrangement. When would you like to speak to him?” Jimbei asks the boy.

 You smile at the older man. It was sure interesting how the two became friends. Glad Luffy had somebody so wise and quick to back him up. 

“Now. Let’s go!” Luffy responds, earning a  gasp from the crew

“Don’t worry, Luffy, you can always refuse if something seems off.” You point out, smiling toward the crew who are trying to cope with actually going through with attempting to crash this party

“Great! Meet you there!” Luffy replies

Ik the picture is blurry. But an outfit change 🤩 yes, white to match Sanji lowkey. 

 You and the crew arrive at Capone Bege’s palace. The man living alongside his wife, Charlotte Chiffon. 

 The older woman greets you all. Guiding you girls to the showers. Describing her upbringing while you, Carrot, and Nami use the shower to freshen up. 

 The woman explains Big Mom’s hatred toward Lola. Since Lola had run away from a marriage to a giant, Big Mom blames her daughter for not making that connection happen between the Big Mom Pirates and the giants of Elbaf.

 Big Mom had also taken her anger out on Chiffon due to her being Lola’s twin

“That’s so unfair.” You say to Chiffon as she leads you and the girls into her closet. 

“It is. But that’s why I’m okay with Bege’s plan. You ladies can go ahead and wear whatever.” Chiffon smiles, opening the door. Her baby was cradled in her arms

“Oh my gosh!” Nami whispers in awe, taking in the large room. 

Carrot and her make their way in, getting their hands on the first thing they can reach.

“You serious?” You question, looking over at the woman

“Please.” Chiffon smiles, nodding her head. Closing the door as she leaves so you can all get dressed

 Your eyes search the room, spotting a white dress hanging beside the others. Perfect. 

 Smiling as you reach the rack, hands grabbing the hanger. Finding a mirror in the room, you hold the dress up to your body

 Standing up straight, looking at your reflection. Feeling giddy, you waste no time pulling your clothes off. 

 Stepping into the dress, you pull it up. As it slides against your torso, you pull the thin straps over your shoulders. 

 Letting out a sigh finally in the dress. Looking back up at yourself in the mirror, you smooth out the dress. 

 The fabric snugly wraps around your waist, flaring out midway allowing movement for your legs.

 Slightly turning your body, watching as the skirt twirls softly. Smiling at the flowing material

“So beautiful,” Nami’s smooth voice meets your ears 

 Seeing the girl appear from behind you in the mirror.

Eyes meeting through the glass as she approaches from behind you. Her hands find your shoulders, giving you a slight squeeze

“You’re not some hidden royalty, too, now?” She teases with a warm smile as you turn to face her. She takes in the fit of the dress

“Definitely not.” You smile shyly back at the girl. Her hands drop from your shoulders

“You look wonderful, Nami.” You compliment the girl, returning the smile. 

 Her hair was tied up. A short, dark red dress fitted around her body. Wrapping around her neck.

“Thanks, Carrot and I are gonna head on over. They said Luffy should be here by now.” Nami replies, waving a hand

“Okay. I’ll be there soon!” You reply as the two girls head out the door

 As the door shuts, you look around the closet. Finding a pair of white heels, grabbing them from the shelf. You place them on the floor, stepping into them.

 Looking back in the mirror doing one last look over before turning toward the door. Stepping out into the hall, closing it behind you softly.

 Turning away from the door, you halt, seeing Sanji staring back at you already.

A cigarette was between his lips, unlit.

“Y/N!” Sanji calls surprised.

A wide grin finds his face. Cigarette falling from his lips forgetting it’s there. 

“Sanji.” You reply with a small smile, seeing the stick hit the floor. 

His eyes soften as he lowers his gaze.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Sanji apologizes suddenly

 The feeling in your stomach seeing him so different here made you feel sick.

 You sigh, walking over to the cook. Stopping in front of him as your hands find his shoulders

 The touch makes Sanji look up, facing you. He looks like a hurt puppy, you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with him.

“I understand. You don’t have to talk about it, but we are all here for you. I’m here for you.” You say pausing before continuing

“I also heard about Pudding. Sorry, that didn’t work out.” You finish, sending him a warm smile. 

 His eyebrow lifted, realizing you weren’t upset with him. A wide smile on his face as his hands find your waist, pulling you close.

Letting out a yelp as his arms glide around your lower back. 

Feeling his breath on your neck, your body grew hot. Not knowing where to put your hands, you gently rest them around his neck. 

“Thank you. It’s my fault, I fell right into her trap” Sanji mutters as you worry he could feel your heart about to leap from your chest

“We did too.” You let out a laugh as you too fell right into Pudding’s plan.

His shoulder rises as he laughs lightly as well. You had never been so close to him while he laughed, it felt funny feeling him against you.

Your mind rushing to other places noticing how close you were. You release your hold around his neck

“Alright, no time to be sappy, we have to meet with the crew.” You comment as he loosens his hold on you

“Follow me, I was just with them,” Sanji says, holding his arm out for you.

 Accepting, you wrap your arm around his. Following his lead as he walks you down the hall

“Might I add you look absolutely breathtaking, my sweet.” The cook adds, turning to face you as you walk

A smile finds your face as you turn to face the blonde. The familiar pet name brings a pep to your step

“I missed that.” You grin at Sanji.

 Turning to face down the hall, your laughter mixes with Sanji's, filling the hall.

 Happy with the familiar presence of the cook. You both turn down the hall, seeing the rest of the group.

 Everybody cleaned up well. Retiring their old outfits for much cleaner and fancier ones. Except Jimbei, who still looked as handsome as ever.

“Hey, you found her!” Luffy grins, waving his hand

“Wasn’t hard, she was already on her way,” Sanji tells Luffy, dropping his arm, letting you go

“Yup!” You smile, walking up to the crew

“Look at you!” You smirk, looking Luffy up and down. 

 The boy in a red suit, with black accents. His shorts are now red, still in his sandals. Nonetheless, he looked put together with a black hat atop his straw hat

“I know! I look so serious!” Luffy laughs, hands on his hips, as he poses in his outfit.

 Sanji's laugh echoes with the crew, and for a second, everything almost feels normal. 

“Let’s go!” Luffy chimes, heading down the hall, ready to meet with Bege.

 Following behind, you walk beside Sanji down the hall. The crew was quiet as we headed to the room where we would be meeting.

 Luffy finds the door and pushes it open. Your eyes scan over the room, seeing a bunch of faces looking back at you as you all enter. 

 A large white rectangular couch sat in the middle of the room. The couch is connected in one big loop. A long table in the middle was filled with food and drinks laid out.

 Three men sit on the opposite end of the couch, furthest from the door. 

 One familiar, Caesar Clown, with his hair spiked up, matching the mafia vibe this crew had. Chiffon is standing behind the couch with the men. 

 As Sanji steps over the couch, he turns back, holding out a hand for you. 

 Dropping your hand into his, he helps you climb over the couch. Holding your hand as you find your seat. Letting go once you hit the cushion. 

 Sanji settles down to your left. Legs spread wide, with his elbows resting on his knees.

 Crossing your leg over the other, your arms do the same. Chopper plops down on the couch to your right, arms crossed as well. 

 Both our crews moved quietly, trying to intimidate the other.

“Are you Bege?” Luffy blurts, looking at Chiffon behind the couch. You stiffen, sending a glare to your captain

“What? No!” Chiffon denys

“You then?” He darts his eyes to the baby

“Luffy!” You whisper-shout at his guess

“That’s a baby!” Nami and Chopper shout into his ears, making his mistake very clear.

“Okay, so one of you guys?” Luffy calls out to the two men on the opposite end of the couch.

“Hold your horses. He’s on his way.” A man with glasses and a very long tongue hanging out replies. A door creaking makes everybody go silent, turning toward the door

 As the door swings open, you look over Sanji’s shoulder, seeing a shorter man walking in.

 Capone Bege, it was a first seeing him in person. He was exactly what you thought he would be. Dressed nicely and cleanly, practically radiating as he stepped into the room

“Great. That should be everybody. Your keisters are so clean, you could eat off of ‘em, right? They say clothes make the man. I would talk to folks who don’t care for their appearance.” His accent is heavy as he steps in. (I found out keisters can mean buttocks lol or just a bag. Idk buttocks is more funny.)

 Taking a seat on the couch right across from Luffy. A cigar in his mouth as he continues. His head hung low as his hat covered his eyes.

“Okay. There are three and a half hours to go. Let’s decide. Deal or no deal?” He asks, tilting his head up to look Luffy in the eye. 

 Your eyes go back to your captain. Watching his still frame as he stares across the table right at Bege. 

 After a second, Luffy’s hand reaches for some small cookies on the table. 

 Hearing guns cock from Bege’s crew, drawing them, ready to fire. Chopper leans over, grabbing a cookie as well.

You shuffle in place, seeing your crew’s actions.

 To your left, Sanji leans back, lighting his cigarette and stuffing the lighter back into his pocket. Taking a drag, his eyes stay trained on Bege. 

 Sanji’s right hand falls from his mouth onto his knee, cigarette pointing at you. The smell hits your nose as he blows out the smoke.

 Reaching a handout, you take the cigarette. Placing it between your lips, taking a drag. 

 Blowing out the smoke you return the stick to its place between his fingers. 

 Like nothing, his hand lifts. Head still turned away, you grin, seeing his ears turn red as he brings the cigarette to his face.

“You guys are nothin’ but a liability for me. Convince me why we should work together. Otherwise, we’ll murder you on the spot.” Bege’s voice challenges as your crew focuses back on him

“Think about it. If I die, your chance to kill Big Mom will be gone.” Sanji speaks up

“Point taken. I can figure a way around that, though. How about I off your pals and your pretty little lady, instead?” Bege grins toward Sanji. Meeting your eyes as he looks at you next

“I won’t let you harm them either,” Sanji replies

“It’s not like you could either way.” You mutter, glaring at the man

“It would be a mistake to take us lightly.” Nami follows sternly 

“We don’t have time for intimidation games.” Jimbei interrupts, getting everybody’s attention as he looks at Luffy eating grapes

“Luffy. What’s your intuition telling you? Trustworthy?” He asks your captain

 You wait patiently, watching Luffy stare across the table. Arms crossed again as silence fell over the room

“WHY IS CAESAR HERE? HUH?” Luffy shouts abruptly, standing up from the couch.

Teeth gritted shut. The scientist shrieks, hearing his name called out

“Huh? It’s Caesar? Where? Where?” Chopper shouts, looking around, waving his arms

 Gently grabbing hold of the doctor’s hat, you guide him toward the man sitting not too far on the other side of Sanji.

“Right there.” You point out as the boy gasps, realization setting in. 

“I’m, uh, Bege’s older half brother. The name’s Gangster Gastino, ya little punk!” Caesar Clown announces, pointing to himself. His familiar laugh echoes in the room

 You, Chopper, and Sanji lean back slightly. A slight gasp comes from you three as you frown at the man.

“He’s not even trying to hide it,” Sanji utters to you

“Does he think we’re stupid?” You grunt at the balls of this man

“That name sounds so fake!” Choppers mumbles in shock

The crew shakes their head in disappointment at the man.

“My mistake, different guy. Sorry bout that.” Luffy says

“That is him.” You hiss, glancing at the captain as Nami is beside him, also confirming his suspicions

“You liar! What are you doing here?!” Luffy shouts, realizing he was right, getting up close to Caesar's face. 

 The two guys argue back and forth. Tuning in here and there you pick up on Caesar getting stuck working for Bege in the end after he was taken by him from Big Mom.

“All right, enough! Can it, you two.” Bege cuts in, squeezing a frozen heart in his hand. Hearing Caesar’s scream fills the room as he rolls around 

“Lay it on me. We gonna play nice? Or are we done?” Bege asks. Elbows on his knees as he crosses his hands.

Luffy’s hand lifts as he begins to speak

“Lemme punch you once for shooting Pekoms, then we can talk!” He demands 

 An abrupt laugh leaves your throat as Sanji's head snaps to you at your reaction. 

 Your hand shoots over your mouth, tilting your head down. You couldn’t help it. It was such a random and stupid request.

 Hearing a slam on the table, your head shoots up, eyes wide as you watch Luffy ready to jump across the table

“ARE YOU READY!” Luffy shouts, no hesitation behind his eyes.

It all happens fast as Luffy’s arm stretches across the table. Colliding with Jimbei’s palm halfway before reaching Bege

“There’s no time for this!” Jimbei stops Luffy as Bege’s men raise their guns once more.

 Letting out a sigh, you slouch back against the couch. Listening as your captain argues with Bege, Jimbei, and Caesar once more, somehow. 

 Sanji's hand lifts, offering you the cigarette at the perfect time. Gratefully taking it, you take your time by the time you hand it back, Jimbei is settling everybody down.

“We may not share ideals or lifestyles, but we all have a common enemy here. Settle your differences later. We need to cooperate if we want the upper hand.” Jimbei explains. Wise as always

“One problem. I doubt Big Mom is the type to be defeated by guns and cannons.” Sanji comments, his elbows resting on his knees as he talks to Bege

 His comment sparks a topic of conversation. Bege informs us all about a time he saw Big Mom take damage. Bleed actual blood, and that was when a picture frame was to be knocked over 

 Bege recalls Big Mom releasing a deafening scream and even using her conquer's haki. To combat that, the man explains how we will have earplugs to block it out. And the person to knock her frame over this time was gonna be Luffy. 

“Yeah. Sounds fun!” Luffy smiles widely, hands on his knees. You could see the gears turning in his brain already. 

“Hold on! Can we vote at least?” Nami interrupts the guys

“As much as we want to help, we are talking about Big Mom. From what we know, that photo is an essential part of the plan.” You warn Luffy

“Nah, I’ve got an idea! When I show up, it’s gonna blow everyone away! You’ll see!” Luffy chuckles, cupping his hands together as he rests his head back on them.

“I hope you don’t mean literally.” You wince at the boy, not wanting to even imagine what he had planned

“Can’t tell it will ruin the surprise!” He laughs as the rest of your crew groan, hearing his answer

“It’s a deal, then. You betting pull this off, boyo.” Bege asserts

“Uh-huh!” Luffy nods grinning

“Now that’s settled, you know when to break the frame?” Bege continues

“Yeah. Of course. It’s when Sanji kisses Pudding,” Luffy replies, arms crossed. Having no time to react as Sanji’s voice follows quickly.

“I’m not kissing her. Won’t happen.” He tells Luffy

“What! You’re against kissing girls when we need it the most!” Chopper shrieks in shock, making you grin

“He can’t kiss Pudding. She plans to kill him, remember?” You remind the reindeer of what Brook had said earlier. 

“Exactly. I’ll dodge the bullet. No kiss. So the gunshot can be your cue.” Sanji turns from you to Luffy.

 Our two crews continue discussing the escape route through the mirror using Brulee’s abilities.

After defeating Big Mom and saving Sanji’s family, we would escape back onto the Sunny with a mirror.

“It seems everything is settled,” Jimbei calls out after we discuss the plan

“The tea party doesn’t kick off till ten o’clock, right? We’ve got two and a half hours. I’d better head back to my room, for now.” Sanji informs the crew, glancing toward the clock hanging in the room

“We’ve gotta move too. Somebody gotta pretend to be security, ya know?” Bege nods as Luffy exits the couch, going over to talk to Capone up close.

 Sanji leans forward, putting out his cigarette on an ashtray left on the table. Standing up and the cushion rose where he sat.

“Be safe.” He offers his words kindly, scared to cross any boundaries.

It was still pretty recent after the whole fight. Not everything was resolved

 Taking his leave, he heads for the door. Your eyes follow his figure until the door closes behind him. 

“I missed him, too. But now Sanji is back!” Chopper grins, hoofs on the back of the sofa. Watching as Sanji left, too. You grin at your younger crewmate.

 Both of you subconsciously watching the cook exit, making sure he was safe while he was in their sights.

 You and the crew now sit inside Bege’s body. His Devil Fruit makes more sense now. Back when Nami explained the castle-castle Fruit back in Zou, you had a hard time imagining it. 

 But now sitting inside, it was exactly like a real castle. The rooms were spotless. You couldn’t even tell you were inside someone unless you looked out the window and saw how large everything looked outside. 

 Bege had informed you all the wedding had already begun as guest made their way into the venue at the very top of the Whole Cake Chateau. While you sat at a table in a large room. Directly in the center, as we sit around it preparing for Big Mom’s assassination

Luffy snores on the floor. He had run off earlier, mentioning some preparations for his plan.

“Here you go-lelo” Vito, one of Bege’s men, says, placing a blue can on the table in front of you.

“What’s this?” You question picking up the blue can. Twisting the can, seeing a white two. 

 Vito’s hand appears from behind you, taking the blue can from your grasp.

“It’s Germa 66 raid suits. It’s a cool getup, all you have to do is hand it to them. You can guess which belongs to whom.” His voice comes from behind you. As he walks around the table, holding the can on display

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Vito reassures with a grin, tossing the can toward you. Landing right into your hands, you stare at the can

“That’s so cool!” Chopper gushes, stuffing the cans into his bag

“Sounds simple enough.” You turn to Nami

“Yup! Jimbei, you almost done waking up Luffy?” She turns toward the fish man as some of Bege’s crew walk in carrying a platter with meat stacked high.

 In no time, Luffy was up on the mound of food. Stuffing his face with what he could get his hands on. 

“I can’t wait any longer! Pudding’s gunshot is about to go off any minute now!” Jimbei huffs at Luffy

 Scooping the boy up in his arms, Luffy reaches for whatever piece of meat he can get for the ride. The two hop through the mirror taking the lead

 You waste no time hoping through the mirror, turning back, watching Chopper follow in with everyone else. Finding Diesel by the cart, Chopper quickly instructs the man to get ready as we all pile into the cart

 Luffy heads for the mirror inside the cake. As Diesel peddles fast, we pick up speed as Brulee shouts in protest. We near the mirror, and your eyes catch a big net bag set by it.

“What’s that?” Nami shrieks, seeing that the bag moved slightly. Hoping down from the cart, you stare back at Luffy behind the netted material.

“I got that lady to make clones of me! It’s gonna be so funny! Nobody will expect it!” Luffy laughs, slightly hopping up and down, excited about his plan

“Sounds good,” You reply as the gunshot rings from the mirror

“That’s our cue!” Nami shouts as the crew helps tilt the bag filled with the Luffy clones. 

 Opening the net, you watch as the animals disguised as Luffy run through the mirror. Watching Brook and Luffy enter the mirror as well. You couldn’t see much but the cake. None of the party was visible from the mirror

“This Luffy is the last one!” Pedro announces as the clone enters the mirror. Jimbei and Pedro head out as well to back Luffy up

“Let’s get ready to go!” You say, making sure you had everything.

“We just gotta help Sanji’s family and go! Try not to screw this up, loser!” Nami nods, dismissing Caesar as we leave Brulee with him

 Stepping through the mirror, you could smell the cake in the air, running alongside your group. You hide among the frosting on the first tier. Watching the chaos unfold below.

 Luffy’s clones run tearing through everything. You smile, watching the different versions of your captain ruin the venue. Nothing going untouched 

“We will wait here until he breaks the frame.” Nami instructs turning toward you, Carrot, and Chopper. The two beside you eat the frosting surrounding us

“This is serious, are you listening!” Nami nags the two with a frown

“Mm-Hmm!” The two hum, grinning with their faces are stuffed

“Luffy’s about to break the frame!” You gasp, making the three turn toward the scene

 As Luffy stretches his arm, his fist halfway there when a white substance catches Luffy. Watching your captain struggle, you begin to form your sword

“Don’t! We have our plan!” Nami rushes over, grabbing hold of your hand. Causing you to stop before you finish

 Turning away from the girl, you see Jimbei helping Luffy. You watch as Jimbei himself walks up to Big Mom. For a second, your heart drops as Big Mom does the weird thing Lola’s dad explained.

 Until nothing happened and Jimbei didn’t drop dead. 

“So it doesn’t work if you’re not afraid of death?” You question, facing Nami, as Jimbei gives back Big Mom’s sake cup. A sign of respect for the time and gratefulness for serving under her. 

“I guess so.” Nami smiles, turning to face you

“Jimbei is a Straw Hat!” Nami grins, grabbing your shoulder, shaking you slightly 

“It was about time.” You beam toward your crew as you silently celebrate his joining. 

 When a large flame erupts, making you all freeze, watching the flame burst high into the air. The heat from the fire brushed against your skin. Way too hot for comfort as Big Mom uses Prometheus, the sun, against Jimbei.

  As the flames settle in the distance, you hear glass shatter. Searching through the flames, you see a tall figure. Hammer in hand and a cracked frame on the table

“BROOK DID IT!” You yelp, turning to the group

“WHAT?!” Nami, Chopper, and Carrot gasped, running over to the edge of the frosting where we were hiding.

“HE ACTUALLY DID!” Nami shrieks a smile on her face as we all throw our hands in the air. Cheering for Brook once 

 And as Brook rips off his fake disguise, Big Mom topples back and forth. Not looking well

“She’s in shock!” You grunt, frowning. Of course, this wouldn’t be easy when you all decided to attack

“That’s the holdup? Are you kidding me!” Nami worries hands are  digging into the frosting

“Somebody needs to snap her out of it!” Carrot reassures as we wait for the woman to let out a scream.

 In the distance, you hear Bege’s instruction to put in your earplugs. Your group follows as Chopper hands them out. 

 Watching closely as your captain fights alongside Jimbei, Pedro, and Bege to get the frame to Big Mom.

Luffy gets knocked over by one of her sons. But you see Luffy’s arm stretch connecting the frame in front of Big Mom.

 Seeing her mouth fall open, you cuff your ears with your hands despite wearing earplugs. Worried they might not be enough. Though you heard nothing, as Big Mom’s crew and guests fell to the ground from her scream

 Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you see Nami pointing toward Sanji’s family trapped in pink candy.

 Nodding to the girl, you all rush down the cake, wasting no time.

Your breath echoes in your ears, and the only other thing you can hear is your heart pounding as your feet thud against the floor. Silence surrounds you as you near the table

 Looking down at the blue can in hand, you spot Sanji’s brother with blue hair.

Running over to him as he squirms in his chair hearing Big Mom’s scream. 

 Slowing down as you approach him from behind, pulling up the headphones around his neck.

Placing them over his ears, as his movement stills. No longer hearing the piercing scream. 

 Sanji lands in the center of the table, smashing the candy holding his family.

  Stepping to the side of the blue-haired sibling, you wave the blue can in front of him. His gloved hand reaches up, wrapping around the can.

 Turning to walk away. Seeing the group had also delivered their parts as well, you began to form your sword in your hand.

Proceeding toward the mirror, we had all planned to meet at.

 Retreating with Luffy’s group as we follow Bege out. Big Mom continues to cry, as the explosive didn’t work.

 Caesar the clown appears in the distance. Mirror in hand with Brulee on his back. Our escape was right ahead. Picking up the pace, you watch Bege near the mirror

 Watching the mirror crack, shattering into pieces suddenly. The group halts, realizing how much trouble we are in.

 Turning around, Big Mom still seemed to be shouting, but her crew had gained some sense, blocking out their ears as well.

To make things better, they were marching right toward the group

 We are so screwed! Was the only thing repeating in your head. Her crew outnumbered you all and was far too strong.

Looking back toward the Luffys group up ahead, you see a stone Bege growing. Everybody catches the idea as you head for the stone structure.

Luffy and Brook wave from the entrance when small orbs fly, exploding on the ground in front of you. Halting, a large man stands in front of you.

 The man is shot down by Bege’s crew, clearing a path. Smoke surrounds us as we run faster, hearing Nami scream. 

You turn, stopping when you see a hand rise from the smoke. A long-legged woman had Nami in her grip.

 Wasting no time, Chopper throws punches at her arm as she blocks.

You send a slice toward her thigh as she lets out a scream. Sending Chopper flying to another one of her siblings.

 Focusing her attention on you, she swats, trying to catch you with her free hand.

Dodging, you lift your finger as a vine erupts, wrapping around her leg, tripping her.

 As you lift your sword, ready to free Nami, your hand feels wet.

Looking down, you see a white substance wrapped around them.

 Seeing your vines disappear as your hands get covered in the substance.

Feeling something run up your legs, you glance down and see the white goo making its way up them.

Wrapping itself around your torso. Forcing your arms to your side.

 A tall figure appears next to you. The man was huge as he approached you. Having to lift your head practically to the sky as he nears.

A dark vest, his hair a dark shade of pink. His lower face was covered by a scarf-like clothing. 

Grunting to yourself, your legs shuffle, trying to get away. 

 Your heart is pounding as the man is only a couple of inches away from you. Shifting your head, avoiding his piercing gaze. His large hand wraps around your stomach. 

  Lifting you off the ground easily, you attempt to kick your legs.

Bringing you up to his face, you get a good look at him. Before seeing a red flash hit his arm, loosening his grip.

You see what you assume to be Sanji older brother fighting against the tall man

 The wind rushed past you as you fall. Bracing yourself for the impact.

Feeling a pair of arms catch you. Facing the guy, seeing a proud smirk spread across Yonji's face.

 His mouth opens, and even with the earplugs, you can hear him faintly shouting, “Finally!”.

 You groan, thrashing around, still stuck in that tall man's devil fruit power. Yonji places you down closer to the entrance.

 Taking off to help his brother with the tall man. You shuffle closer toward the castle. Embarrassment rushed over you, stuck and slow in the goo.

 Dragging your feet closer, you feel a pair of arms cuff behind your knees, and back.

Lifting you, your head snaps to the culprit. This time, meeting Sanji's warm smile.

 Your glare softens seeing the cook. White suit tailored perfectly for his body.

He guides you to a large teacup, wasting no time helping you in. Remembering what Jimbei had done earlier to free Luffy.

 As you lower yourself into the tea, the white substance disappears.

You crawl out of the cup with the help of Sanji. Holding his hand as he leads you toward Bege’s castle. 

 Your dress is slightly tinted brown from the tea. Trailing drops behind you as Sanji chuckles at your dripping form.

His face flushed slightly, seeing the way the liquid made the dress cling to you more.

 Sanji turns back toward the castle, guiding you up the ramp as Bege men follow behind, closing the door shut behind you.

“Thanks.” You let out a breath, reaching up to take out the earplugs. Sanji mirrors your actions, tilting his head toward you. Smiling gently as he removes them

“No problem,” He grins, tossing the earplugs to the side.

 Not caring where they land, he grabs hold of your hand again. Since he’s been back, Sanji has been overly touchy, but still kind as well. It was tugging at your brain. You still had no idea what was going on with his family

 As Sanji opens the door, letting you step through.

You see the familiar table with your crew around it. Relieved as everybody was still in one piece (😏). Sanji’s family also stood in the room further from the group.

 Greeting the crew, Bege’s voice echoes from an intercom in the room

“The assassination has failed. We are trapped in candy. And even worse, we’re surrounded.” Bege explains what is happening outside

 The man appears in his human form as Luffy runs up to him, giggling about his cool Devil Fruit power.  The group gathers trying to come up with a solution

 With a new plan in mind, you watch through the window as Sanji’s family speeds past the window. Now back inside Bege’s body with the crew, he moves through the air carried by Caesar Clown.

“They’re so cool.” You mutter, leaning toward the window. Chopper holds onto the window seal, eyes sparkling as they fight off the Charlotte siblings.

“Yeah, just look at them!” The doctor beams 

“Keep talking about them and you’ll break my heart.” Sanji’s joking voice cuts in, making you chopper look over your shoulder at the cook

“Jealous?” You grin at the blonde

“You caught me,” Sanji smirks, holding his hands up in defense

“They are so super cool though!” Chopper smiles up at Sanji. The cook returned the smile cigarette between his lips

“I agree. But I think we got the best one.” You tease as Sanji’s body tenses like he was struck by lightning. A visible chill runs down his body                   

“You’re funny, Sanji!” The doctor giggles beside you at the cook's reaction. His cute laugh affected you as you followed along

“Y/N! My dear, your laugh is refreshing” Sanji’s voice gets high as he nears his heart in his eyes. His hands reached out to grab you, stopping before he reached you. Getting yanked backward.

“No time! We got to go fight!” Luffy shouts, his arm stretched, grabbing onto Sanji. Dragging him out.

“NO! WAIT! LUFFY!” Sanji’s voice echoes through the room as your captain carries the blonde away.

 Shaking your head and laughing at your crewmates, you watch as Sanji and Luffy’s figures disappear in and out of fights. They two back up the cook’s family.

 It all goes well and Big Mom seems to have gained consciousness. Fighting with her family against Germa 66. Audible gasp fill the room watching Sanji’s family get captured one after the other suddenly. 

 Luffy and Sanji are getting caught as well. Turning to the crew crowding around the window, you face Jimbei

“What are we supposed to do now?” You question 

“They won’t rest until we’re all dead. The road ahead is a harsh one.” Jimbei states look out the window

 The next decision is settled as you draw your sword. Looking through the glass with Yonji and the blue-haired brother in her hands.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could feel your hands sweat at the thought of fighting an emperor 

 Watching as Big Mom suddenly tilts wobbling losing her footing. You lean close, face almost touching the window as she releases the two siblings in her hand.

Dropping to the floor you the woman looks around frantic 

“The whole thing is falling!” You gasp in shock and watch the venue tilt. Thanks to Bege and Caesar clown you all had front-row seats. 

 The tables and chairs tumble sliding over the edge of the cake. Guest rolled trying to catch hold of something. 

“No way!” Nami says, but you could hear the smile on her face. 

“Here comes Sanji!” Brook points out that we see a figure in white sky walking. 

 The crew rushes out the door, berating Bege’s men to open the door faster. As it drops, Sanji appears in front of the entrance. Large before entering the castle, he shrinks down to our size.

“Sanji!” Chopper and Carrot shout, hugging the cook as the door closes.

“We’ll be heading to the northwestern part of the island. There we’ll split off.” Bege’s form appears, informing us of our exit route. 

 In no time, you and the crew were thrown out onto the grass. You yelp, stumbling slightly as you find your footing.

“Thanks for everything Bege!” Nami turns to the man

“Don’t get sappy. Like I’d ever do a good deed! Disgusting!” Bege replies cigar lit between his lips

“Denial.” You mumble to Nami as she stifles a laugh. Earning a father-like glare from the man. 

The two of you turn away, grinning at the face he made.

“If you're gonna thank someone, thank me!” Caesar interrupts, causing an argument to form between him and the navigator. 

As Bege returns the man's heart that had been taken a while back. Bege turns to us

“Now that the assassination had failed, we go our separate ways.” He remarks, pulling out a sign and hammering it into the ground. Driving off with no other explanation

“Straw hat’s gone that way?” You read the sign out loud to the group. Arms crossed, staring at the piece of wood

“How petty can this guy be!” Sanji shouts 

“We must get moving. Chopper and I will go retrieve the shark submarine and meet you at the Sunny!” Brook announces as Chopper nods 

“‘Kay, just be careful!” Luffy grins, waving as the two split from our group

“Let’s get going!” Luffy instructs jumping with every step.

How it felt writing the end of the chapter. Like, why does it feel impossible to add interactions? Im fuckin tweakin because like it's all fighting rn where i'm at in one peice.

Update- bout to post this after I edited it. Why was I lowkey kinda cooking like okayyyy. But I skimmed through the middle section lowkey. lol sorry I pray for y’all having to read through my mistakes 💔💔

[miss0atae]

I think it's quite obvious how Tony has always favored and "liked" Babe more than any of his other kids.

The only other son he was more or less respectful to was Pete. The series maybe didn't get the time to show the abuse he faced or maybe he escaped before anything was done to him (when he learned the truth about the Chen foundation), but he certainly didn't escape unscathed.

Way and Chris are apparently twins and his only biological sons. This bond didn't mean that he cared about them more. We don't know yet if he knows about Chris, but in season 1 he didn't seem to be kind to Way. He did give him more time than others to bring back Babe, but in the end he still saw him as nothing more than a tool to use. He didn't hesitate to abuse him too.

Charlie was kicked out of the Chen foundation because they couldn't find his ability and we know the kids with no ability were poorly cared for. Charlie compares their life as being in a solitary room. I don't even remember if Tony had a single interaction with Charlie. It shows how uninterested he was with Charlie until he discovered he had Babe's ability. Still, it doesn't mean he cares for Charlie. The fact he wants to have him is just because he has his special ability he could use and he has a "part" of Babe (he has his ability).

Jeff should have been someone he could have deeply "cared" about because of his special ability, but it seems like he escaped before it was known (with the help of Kenta if I remember properly). When Tony learned about it, Jeff was already old enough to understand his foster father's actions. In addition, Tony wanted to sell him fast in season 1. It proves he only cared about how much money Jeff could bring him.

As for Kenta he was abused and treated worse than any of the other kids because he has no ability and Tony only saw him as a henchman (nevers as a son). Despite that, Kenta was the one who truly wanted to be Tony's son (at one point). He also confessed to Kim that Tony was one of the most important person in his life. Even knowing the extent of his actions towards him, Kenta can't really forget the bond that he wanted to share with Tony.

But Babe… Babe is Tony's favourite "son". I could say he is his obsession. He doesn't have the best power among all his kids, but he was the one Tony really wanted to keep. He also wanted him to give him other special kids too. Tony had two enigmas (at one point) and he only wanted his enigmas to "breed" Babe, because he was his "dearly son".

Tony was ready to give him anything as long as Babe played on his own rules. He was praising him and wanted to keep him around him so he pretended to be this loving father. Unfortunately, Tony's greed is probably what made this relationship fail. He didn't play it well enough and Babe decided to leave.

Tony let him leave and I think he did it because it was Babe. Apparently, he was still working behind to ensure Babe could get what he wanted (or so he said). You could say he truly considered him as his son... But not in the right way. After all that's Tony we're talking about. In his eyes, Babe is his best "creation". He is the one he invested most of his time and so he feels like Babe belongs to him. He will never stop trying until he can bring Babe back to him because in his own deranged way he thinks he is doing his job as a "father".

Tony doesn't know what love is and he isn't a good father figure anyway. He is controlled by his greed and obsession. His fixation is on Babe.

[chaifootsteps]

Looking at Viv's history online just makes me sad more then it does mad at this point, because all I can think is, "Wow, here's a teenager who had unrestricted internet access in the early 2000s, was bullied through middle school and high school for being "cringe", (and maybe College, but considering how she is about deadnaming people in two other examples/claims aside from that one allegation made by someone who said they went to SVA with her and the whole Dollcreep thing, I'm not just gonna listen to her when she says "source: trust me bro") was so sheltered and unhumbled in any emotional way through life (like I and most people had to be when they're a young adult or even before then,) that now she honest to god thinks that she has stalkers and the same people critiquing her work from an entirely separate series from over 14 years ago. She's more successful then she's ever been, but can't be happy if she isn't popular and well liked by EVERYONE and would rather act like a victim because it's easier then acknowledge that maybe there's a reason behind the critique that isn't as "constructive" as others. It really clicked when I remembered a comic she made comparing "good" and "bad" critics, and the "bad" critics are literally just Vivziepop antis opinions nowadays, because she made it an active point to change as little as a person or artist as possible, even when it wasn't HER writing that people liked, it was Ken and Dave and Brandon's. Not to mention the whole, "Remember the personal beef she had with someone 3 years ago? What a bitch, amiright?" because now it's, "Remember the personal beef she had with Jane Gumball, Zeurel, Squidder, Erin, Dave, Ken, Ashley, The entire HH Pilot crew, Sam and Sky maybe because she was really awkward to them during that livestream she suspiciously took down, Morgana in the future probably, Ed probably, a majority of the actual animation industry in LA when she outsourced for two shows instead of paying her animators more when she can," like, that's probably the worst part. Knowing how many people she's hurt in just 10 years and how she'll probably hurt even more before the entire Hellaverse is concluded. I only feel bad thinking she'll never change, or that most of the damage will already be done if she ever does, y'know?

Nailed it. She has no interest in changing, has only gotten worse with time, and everywhere she goes, she leaves a trail of lives in various degrees of worse (from burned to ruined). This is who she is and this is who she wants to be.

[five-bi-five-mind]

Hiii can I request a Kate Callahan x reader smut pleaseee??

Bruises

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Kate Callahan x f!reader

Genre: Smut & Hurt/Comfort

Words: 5.1k+

Summary: Kate hasn't been with the BAU long, but each time she leaves for a case it makes you more and more anxious about her safety. Now, she's come home covered in bruises, but she insists it's worse than it looks. All she wants is to forget the case and enjoy having you back in her arms, so she has a few ideas on how to ease your worry and take both your minds off the bruises on her body...

Warnings: top!Kate, bottom!r, praise kink, pet names, biting, marking kink, clit play (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), nipple play, topping while on bottom basically, riding Kate like your life depends on it lol

A/N: I... I don't know where this came from. Suddenly my FYP had so many Kate Callahan edits and I just kinda had to...

(gif not mine, credit to psdsbyliz)

It was a long case this time. One that took Kate all the way across the country for over a week. She was newer to the BAU and she had done some jobs that took this long when she worked for the other branch of the FBI, but there was something about this new job with Kate that just had you more worried. Any time she described it, it somehow sounded so much worse than her previous job. And you really didn’t think there could be anything that sounded worse than the Sex Crimes Unit. If you thought your gut twisted any time she would go undercover for those jobs, it was worse any time the BAU took her for longer than a couple days. Especially when those cases had her so busy she barely picked up the phone.

So when this case was finally all said and done, you anxiously waited by the door, knowing she would be home at any minute. Kate promised you that she would rush straight home to you the minute she landed and finished up with everything she needed to do at the office. And Kate always made good on her word. It wasn’t very long after she had finally arrived back at the BAU that she was already out the door and on her way to you. Even then, when you got the “just landed” text message, it still felt like it took ages before you finally heard her key in the door.

You sprang up as soon as the knob turned. It could’ve been anybody opening the door, you didn’t wait to see, before pulling that person into your arms. Of course, you knew it was the person you were expecting.

Except, what you weren’t expecting when you squeezed Kate–not even that hard–was the hiss of pain she let out before she even began to hug you back.

“Hey, ouch!” Kate yelped. “Sorry, baby, I’m just a little bit bruised.” 

You finally pulled away, your hands still holding onto Kate, as you took in the sight of her. The second you took in the woman before you, your whole body froze. Kate was kicking herself at her reaction the minute she saw your expression twist into one of horror.

She had some cuts on her face, a nasty gash on the side of her cheek, a bruise on her jaw and one that you could also see part of on her collarbone, where her shirt couldn’t quite hide it. Kate knew, if you looked further, or made her take off a few layers, you’d see a whole lot more where that came from. Something told her, you also probably had a strong suspicion there were much more underneath her clothes. 

“What happened to you?” Your voice wasn’t panicked, but Kate could hear the worry underneath all the same. 

“An unsub got the jump on me,” Kate shrugged as she stepped out of your arms and walked further into your shared home. “Bastard was pretty big.” 

You just followed silently as Kate put her things down. When Kate glanced back at you, she knew the sight she would see–your face filled with worry, your lip between your teeth as you anxiously fidgeted where you stood. It made her stomach twist with guilt, knowing she was causing you to worry so much. She worried about you in much the same way when she was away with the BAU for longer than a couple days. This job was quickly teaching her of even worse horrors in this world than her previous one. All of that made her both treasure her relationship and love for you more, but it also made her more protective, more anxious that anything could happen. 

So when you looked at her with so much concern in your eyes, she knew exactly how you felt. Now, seeing her battered and bruised, she knew this was confirming some of those worries about her new position at the BAU being more dangerous than her previous one. 

“When did this happen?” Your voice held a slight tremble, but you were trying your hardest to shake it off.

“Oh, this morning actually,” Kate said as she made her way to the couch. She practically slumped down onto it, feeling immediately more comfortable not having to be up on bruised, exhausted muscles. “We packed up pretty quickly. I didn’t have the most time to clean up.”

You could tell. She was definitely in a change of clothes, because you imagined that if she weren’t, there would be more evidence of the fight she was in. The cuts on her face weren’t properly cared for, but at least they were somewhat cleaned. Either way, you decided you needed to make sure they were properly disinfected and treated. “Wait right there,” you mumbled as you left Kate to lay on the couch.

With shaking hands, you went through your shared medicine cabinet in search of the first aid kit. It took you only a moment to find it, having already used it a few times before when she came back from different cases. Only those injuries were far fewer. One or two cuts at a time, barely any bruises. This time it was clear that whatever fight she got into with the unsub was a big struggle. 

You returned to see Kate sitting on the couch, watching your every move as you entered the room. You didn’t need to say anything for Kate to know exactly what your intentions were. As you crawled onto the couch with the first aid kit in your hands, Kate didn’t protest when you gently cupped her chin and pulled her face towards yours so you could get a better look.

You scanned all of her visible wounds and began to gently clean the smaller cuts placed here and there on her face. There weren’t too many, and really it was the larger gash on her cheek that really worried you.

There was a heavy silence that filled the air as you turned from the small cuts and searched for a couple butterfly bandages that you suspected you’d need for the wound on her cheek. The silence stretched on as you began to clean it, watching intensely as Kate’s face twitched in pain the second you touched the wound with hydrogen peroxide wipes.  “I know that this is your job and all,” you finally broke the silence, as you placed a bandage on Kate’s now cleaned gash. “But every time you come back from a case like this, it worries me.” 

“Hey,” Kate winced as you kept working, “you should see the other guy.” 

You just rolled your eyes and packed up the first aid kit. Satisfied with the state the wounds you could see were now in. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You asked as you scanned Kate’s body. 

“Probably just bruised,” Kate leaned her head back onto the couch. “Ribs kind of hurt.”

“You want me to check?” 

“You just want a free peek, huh?” Kate had a playful smile on her face, despite her eyes slipping shut. You could tell she was probably pretty exhausted. 

“No— I mean yes, but not for that reason.” You swatted her shoulder gently. She just chuckled again before moving her hands to her own shirt and pushing it up above her abdomen. 

You couldn’t stop the gasp that fell from your lips upon seeing the angry bruises. “He was a really big guy,” Kate grunted as she sat up a little. “Got a few kicks in too. But still, no match for me.” She was trying to be playful to ease some of the worry she knew was right back on your face. 

When you didn’t say anything she peaked one eye open and confirmed the frown you were wearing. You were not happy to see her like this, and she hated that it worried you. 

She closed her eyes again, but not before reaching out to grab your hand. “Hey, I’ll heal,” she said with as much reassurance in her tone as she could manage in order to convince you. “Plus it doesn’t hurt that bad.” 

She placed your own hand right onto her abdomen as if that would prove to you that she wasn’t in pain. And she really wasn’t–Or at least it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. It was really was just inconvenient to her, nothing more, but she knew you saw it differently. “See,” she said with a grunt as she sat up a bit more on the couch. “It’s not so bad.”

You were still just frozen in shock. It definitely didn’t look “not so bad.” In fact, it looked like she might have had a broken rib or too. Except, if that were the case maybe she’d show a bit more pain as she sat up properly on the couch. 

“Everytime you come home like this,” you said again, “I just get scared you’ll keep coming back in worse and worse shape.” 

“At least I’m coming back,” Kate retorted. It was the wrong thing to say, she knew it immediately when the pained look flashed in your eyes. She was trying to be funny, it was stupid to even say that and she immediately kicked herself.

You were silent and she knew you enough to know that panicked scenarios were running through your mind. She had always known that taking this job with the BAU was going to be more risk than her last. And you had also known that too, even if she was trying to shield you from that reality. So, anytime she was gone for so long, she understood that you needed extra reassurance and comfort. Even if she knew you felt ashamed that she was the injured one and you were the one in need of some care at this moment. But Kate really didn’t mind. And as she looked at you and the way you watched her with silent concern, she had a small idea of how to best get you out of your mind right now. And it would also involve some great stress relief that she definitely needed after this case. 

“Come here,” Kate said suddenly as she patted her lap. You looked at her lap and back at her face with surprise, but didn’t move a muscle. 

She patted her lap again, shifting so she sat up a bit more and looked at you with a stern expression. “Come here,” Kate repeated. “You won’t hurt me.”

You let out a rather dramatic sigh but nodded eventually. With the utmost care you slowly crawled into Kate’s lap and straddled her. She gave an approved hum and let her head lean back again as her hands moved to the tops of your thigh. In an act of gentle encouragement, she pressed down on them and you complied, slowly sinking onto her lap. 

All the while, you watched her face closely for any sign of pain. If she felt any, she was good at hiding it, because the whole time she kept her eyes closed and face relaxed. Her hands began to gently brush up and down the tops of your thighs and a small, yet triumphant smile played on her lips. “See,” she mumbled as your hands came to rest on her shoulders. “I’m all good.” 

Her eyes opened again as she looked up at you from where you sat on top of her. You nodded at her, but still she could tell the small smile you gave her in return was hiding some anxiety. She frowned and leaned forward suddenly, moving her hands from your legs to cradle your face. “What can I do to convince you?” Her eyes held more concern than you meant to cause and you shook your head slightly before turning so that you could place a kiss to her palm.

“Nothing,” you murmured. “I just have to grow thicker skin about these things.” You pressed your hands ever so slightly to where you knew her bruises were as you spoke for emphasis. She understood what you meant, but in that moment Kate was determined to ease any of your worries. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure how willing you’d be to let her. She had a sinking feeling that you would be fixated on Kate’s safety when it came to the BAU until she was totally healed. While the bruises weren’t as bad as they looked, she knew it would be awhile before they fully faded. She also knew she ran the risk of gaining another difficult case and earning even more battle scars before the ones she currently had fully faded. She refused to share that thought with you however. Instead, she focused on how she was going to go about trying to prove to you that she was okay and ease some of the tension you were feeling from all your worry over her. 

As you sat on top of her, she watched the small fidgeting of your body and knew she had to act soon before you pulled away. So, with her hands still cradling your face, she pulled you forward. Your hands clutched at her shirt suddenly when she abruptly pressed her lips fully to yours. 

After a moment you couldn’t help but to kiss her back. It wasn’t hard and fast, but it definitely wasn’t chaste either. Kate knew she had to ease you into her idea, but she was hoping it wouldn’t be too hard either. So, in order to do that, she kissed you long and slow. The kind of way she knew would make you melt after a moment if she kept doing it. 

Your hands held tight to her shirt as she enjoyed the way you began to relax on top of her with each moment that she kissed you. When she felt the way you were giving in to kissing her she finally released your face and wrapped her arms around your waist to pull your body flush with her own. 

It did hurt a little when she did that, but she didn’t let that show. Instead, she focused more on the way your lips moved against hers and how the slight peak of your tongue onto her bottom lip was making her shiver. 

However, after a moment, she pulled back, needing a check in before going any further with you. “I told you, pretty girl,” Kate cooed, “I’m just fine. And I’d like to show you just how okay I am.” Her voice was as sweet as sugar and you were a little flustered from her kisses, so Kate knew she had you right in the palm of her hand. “Will you let me?”

It took you a minute to respond, blinking at her with dazed confusion until it dawned on you that she was waiting for some sort of answer. “Show me how?” Your confusion was cute to Kate. But it was even cuter, when her hands ran up your sides and then over to your chest, to watch it finally click. 

“O-oh! Kate, I don’t know… shouldn’t you be resting?” Her hands didn’t really stop, instead she slowly dragged her nails down your clothed abdomen and then back up.

“This is a form of resting,” Kate smirked and her lips brushed across your jaw.

“I don’t think that it actually is.” You tried to sound sarcastic but it failed when you let out a small gasp immediately after from the feeling of Kate nipping at your neck. 

“So will you let me?” She mumbled into your skin before placing a kiss there. Her hands were already toying with the bottom of your shirt, her fingertips brushing your bare skin, before you even gave her an answer. But after a moment of her lips pressing kisses up and down your neck, all you could do was whisper a breathy “yes” in agreement, close your eyes, and tilt your head more so she could have better access.

Kate couldn’t help but smirk against your skin as you gave in to her so easily. She knew just how to win you over. Talk sweet enough and you were putty in her hands. But also it worked out best for her this way, because it meant she could calm your nerves and take your mind off the worrying bruises that littered her body. It also helped that it would take her own mind off the disturbing details of the case as well. It was a win-win all around. 

As soon as you gave her permission, Kate’s hands moved straight up your shirt and under your bra, cupping both your breasts and giving them a playful squeeze. In that same moment, she moved back from your neck up to your lips again, this time kissing you with a bit more heat and intention. 

Your arms tightened around her neck, encouraging her to kiss you with even more hunger. The way her tongue was slipping into your mouth while her fingers were now teasing your nipples already had your judgement almost completely clouded. Still, in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to be careful not to lean too much on Kate or press on any parts that might hurt, so you stuck with keeping your arms locked around her neck and your hands tangled in her hair. 

After a few moments of being lost in heated kisses between the two of you, Kate finally parted only to pull your shirt up and over your body. Your bra swiftly flew somewhere in the room with it. With her hands back to holding onto your waist, she moved you in just the right way to lean you back slightly so she could get the full view. Kate’s eyes ran up and down your body, the tiredness in them being completely replaced with love, admiration, and undeniable hunger for the sight before her. 

“You’re incredible,” Kate breathed before leaning down and taking a nipple into her mouth. You didn’t have time to respond, your hands tightening in her hair as you felt her tongue play with the sensitive peak before moving on to the next one. 

“I don’t– don’t know about t-that…” you were stammering out your words, trying to keep yourself under control, but so badly wanting to buck your hips into her as she kept flicking her tongue against your nipples and nipping at them in just the right way. 

Her mouth began to move to the corner of one of your breasts and you felt her sink her teeth down. It was a small pain, but it also felt utterly incredible when she began to run her tongue over where she bit before sucking slightly on your skin. You knew there would be a mark later, but neither of you cared. It was easy enough to hide. Plus, Kate really enjoyed seeing her marks all over your body linger after moments like these. It was like her own little reward after returning home from a case. “Well, I do,” Kate mumbled against your breast before moving on to the other one and placing a matching mark there too. “You’re fucking incredible.” 

She did this a few more times, littering your chest with hickeys and bite marks until there were numerous. Eventually, she pulled back and looked back up at you. Your face was flushed, your eyes were closed, and she could tell you were channeling all your willpower into sitting still on top of her. “We match now,” She smirked from where her face was buried in your chest. 

“That’s not the same,” you replied with a breathy chuckle. Your hold on her hair gave you good leverage to tug her face gently back up to meet yours in another kiss. As she kissed you, her hands finally moved down to your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with skill. When you finally felt one of her hands slip straight into pants and underwear you couldn’t stop from gasping against her lips at the feeling of her fingertips brushing against you.

She didn’t do anything for a moment, just continued to kiss you with her fingers running up and down your slit to enjoy the feeling of how wet you already were. Your control was still holding on strong, but she could tell you were trying your best to keep your body still on top of her and she needed to get you to relax just a little bit more if she was going to have you the way she wanted you right now.

“Already this wet,” Kate cooed, breaking the kiss, as her fingers brushed feather-light against your clit. “And all I did was give you a few hickeys.”

You didn’t respond, instead all you could do was let out a small whimper as you felt them press a little more firmly exactly where you wanted them. Your head fell forward and pressed onto her shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut as you did. The feeling of her fingers pressing on your clit was incredible and just what you needed and missed in the few days Kate had been away. Except… she wasn’t moving them at all. And she stayed that way for far too long for your liking. You were fighting an internal battle to sit still, less you risk hurting her anymore than she already was or giving into your nagging need to feel some friction. “Come on baby,” Kate encouraged, “you can move your hips.” You still didn’t and Kate knew you needed a little more encouragement than that.

“But…” You whined, trying your hardest not to give in. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

One of her hands moved to grab your hip and slowly, she tried her best to move you on top of her, encouraging you to grind into her fingers. “You won’t, pretty girl,” she purred as she pressed her fingers to your clit a little more firmly. 

To her satisfaction that was all it took for her to win and you began to grind your hips slowly into her fingers. In your relief, she rewarded you by moving with you, creating that delicious friction against your clit that you were craving. “That’s my girl,” She praised as she watched your body begin to move against her. 

You still moved slowly, worried about hurting Kate as you began to grind against her hand. However, Kate didn’t feel anything but pure happiness at the sight of you pushing your hips into her hand from on top of her. Kate’s other arm went to move around your waist so she could steady you better and allow you to increase your pace.

With your head still buried into her neck, she could tell that what she was doing felt good. The way your breathing grew more ragged also let her know that you could cum just like this any minute now, but she wanted to prove to you even more just how okay she was. She wanted one specific thing from you, and it wasn’t going to be you coming just yet. Not when she wanted to see you fall apart riding her fingers.

So in the very last moment, right before you were to fall apart on top of her, she pulled her fingers away. Her hold on you also made you still your hips. You whined at that, but then your eyes flew open, wondering if it meant you hurt her.

She knew the look right away. “I’m fine, baby,” she reassured. “But I don’t want you to cum yet. Take the rest of your clothes off. Can you do that, sweet girl?”

You looked at her for one moment longer, but eventually you complied. Carefully getting up from her lap to shimmy out of your pants and underwear before her hands were back on you, encouraging you to once again straddle her on the couch. “That’s my girl,” she praised as her fingers went right back to your clit. Your moan echoed through the quiet room as you regained that delicious friction she had denied you just moments ago. However, she still wasn’t planning to let you fall apart this way, and quickly slid her fingers down to your entrance.

Her fingertips stayed there for a moment and her other hand moved up to tangle in your hair, guiding you with that hold so that you’d look at her face. “Now, pretty girl,” She began, “I want you to ride my fingers.”

“Kate that might not be such a good–”

“I’ll be fine.” Her hand tightened in your hair, a slight, but intoxicating, sting resonated through your body at the gesture. That was her way of telling you she wanted–more like needed–you to be good for her. This wasn’t up for debate, she wanted you this way and she was going to have you this way. 

Finally, you nodded. “Okay, but if it hurts…”

“It won’t, but I’ll tell you if it does. I just want to make you feel good,” she purred before slipping her fingers into you finally. You immediately let out a low moan as you felt her two fingers curve and press into the exact place she knew would drive you wild. “Now, be a good girl and ride me, baby.” 

The way she was talking already had you melting around her, but you wanted to be even better for her. With some hesitation you began to move your hips, grinding down into the fingers that filled you. She could tell you were still trying to be cautious, and she would let you for a little while, if only to slowly build up your orgasm again before you fall apart. 

“Look at me baby,” she whispered and you immediately obeyed. “Do I look like I’m in pain?” You kept moving against her at a slow pace, your lips slightly parted with small sighs and moans falling from them as you felt the slow, intoxicating way you were making her fingers move inside you. Yet you still searched her face for any sign of pain as you moved.

“No,” you practically groaned as you kept moving.

“Then you can move faster.”

You did exactly that, your eyes locked with hers as you picked up the pace. This time, she began to help you by moving her fingers in and out in time with your hips. The fact that your eyes were locked with hers, her look growing more and more hungry for you with each moan that slipped from your lips, made everything feel more intense. 

After a while you couldn’t keep watching her face for pain anymore. Her hand left your hair and moved back to your hips, encouraging you to bounce even faster on top of her. With your head pressed to her shoulder and your eyes squeezed shut, you got lost in the way she felt and the words of praise she was giving you as you kept riding her.

Did it hurt a bit? Yes, Kate definitely felt the burn of her battered muscles as she helped you fuck yourself on her fingers on top of her. The thing is, she didn’t give a damn that they hurt. This was what she craved every time she came home to you. And, with how fast she was encouraging you to move on top of her, maybe it would prove that she can handle a few nasty bruises and ease your mind after all of this too. It really was an excellent plan. And it also rewarded Kate with the image of you riding her fingers at her command in the process. So, yeah her ribs might hurt, but she thought it was worth the price to get this sight before her eyes.

You were moaning against her shoulder at this point and Kate knew it was only a matter of time before you fell over the edge you were chasing so hard on top of her lap. She expertly reached her thumb up to press against your clit and, as you fucked yourself on Kate, your clit rubbed against it just right. All of this made you cry out her name and grab at her harder. You were trying your best not to squeeze her body so close to yours as you moved on top of her, but it was really hard when her fingers were filling you just right and your body was being pushed closer and closer to an orgasm. Control really was long out of your grasp at this point.

With a few more pumps of Kate’s fingers and a few more thrusts of your own hips down onto her, you came with a loud cry. Kate, all the while, continued to give you praises as you slowed to a stop on top of her. Her free hand moved to run gently against your back as your body eventually stilled, apart from the shaking of your thighs.

There was a comfortable silence that filled the room for a few minutes. Kate gently removed her fingers from you and held you close, encouraging you to press your weight onto her as she leaned back on the couch with you cradled in her arms. 

“You did so good,” Kate praised as she ran a hand through your hair. “Take a few minutes and then we’ll both clean up.” 

You hummed an agreement in response as you closed your eyes and rested against Kate. After a while you both finally got up, she led you into the shower and you continued your gentle, but still heated touches of each other for a while. You made sure to kiss each bruise you found and she enjoyed the delicate love and attention you were giving her. 

When the water finally ran cold and you both stepped out, that’s when you finally looked at yourself in the mirror. Covering your chest was all of Kate’s marks from earlier. “Holy shit, Kate!” You were flabbergasted at the sheer number of them covering your chest. Lower cut shirts were definitely out of the question for a while. 

“What?” she questioned innocently as she walked up, still naked, and wrapped her arms around you from behind. 

“Look at all these!” You gestured to them as if she didn’t know exactly how they got there and just how many there were. 

“Now we match,” Kate just winked, planting a kiss on your cheek. “But I think I want to give you more…” Her eyes ran down your body in the mirror until they paused at your thighs. There was a devilish glint to them before her eyes met yours again. 

Your eyes practically bugged out of your head. “You’re ridiculous!” The two of you stayed like that for a minute, laughing and holding each other, sharing small kisses, before Kate eventually pulled you to the bedroom and did exactly what she said she wanted to do. It was a long night, but despite the subtle ache in Kate’s body the next morning, it was entirely worth it. 

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[bbina]

chenle's eyes flicker towards the digital clock hanging by his door again for the nth time tonight

he doesn't know how long he's been waiting for your text that you're all set and ready to go to call it a night. he rereads your conversation again that ended about an hour or two ago where you clearly said "this will only take 5 minutes"

it's been longer than 5 minutes

with an irritated sigh, chenle gets up from his desk and heads towards the elevator. ready and determined to drag you out of there if that's what it would take to stop you from working

"she's going to burn out at this rate.." he spits, shaking his head as he presses the button to your floor

. . . ᝰ.ᐟ

you don't know how long you've been typing your lifespan away on your laptop in your cubicle. the rest of the team probably all went home hours ago since chenle called it a day but you couldn't care less

not that you were quoting your own boss but in times like these, time really is money

you try to not dwell in the fact that everything that has been set up carefully by your team had just been thrown out the window because of the sudden reschedule conflict caused by Just Do It Co.

in their defense, the studio was giving everyone a hard time and maybe they just came to a conclusion? or more like a compromise if you were being honest

your eyes have been stinging now. probably from staring at your screen for god knows how long now. your fingers are starting to feel numb and you could probably type away with your eyes closed since it has become muscle memory

timeline, schedule, props, timetable, products, shoot, models, timeframe, deliverables, etc.

all these words becoming worms for brains. it almost feels like ear worms corroding your train of thoughts because its like thats all the words you know right now

"y/n."

you jolt in surprise at chenle's voice

"do you even know what time it is?" he asks, voice tired but still in authority

you pause your typing and begrudgingly look at the clock that reads 1:27 AM before turning around your chair to look at him

"... it's 1:27 AM?" you say it more of a question than a statement, your voice going an octave higher

chenle sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose

"exactly. it's one in the morning and you're still working" he scolds lightly. more like a tired rasp since he should've been— no. scratch that. both of you should've been sleeping by now

you look down, unable to look at him in the eyes

"i thought it's only been 5 minutes..." you murmur

"your 5 minutes has been going on for too damn long" chenle scoffs, "you're done" he says firmly. reaching over to close your laptop for you

"but–"

"no buts" chenle objects, "get up. we're leaving"

chenle walks away first, leaving your cubicle. before he would step foot into the elevator, he turns around again

"and i'm not asking twice. i'll be starting the car. if you're not down there in 5 minutes, i'll force you out of here if i have to" chenle's voice is suddenly clear as day, sharp as a knife sending shivers down your spine

he's using that ceo voice again.., you thought to yourself as you gulp and nod your head yes and gathered your things. leaving your laptop behind since you'll be back here later in the morning anyway

you quickly rush to the elevator as you scurry off downstairs to meet him in his car but when you get down to the lobby, he was already waiting at the driveway in front of the grand doors of the office

. . . ᝰ.ᐟ

"wow you're actually on time for once. thought i'd had to drag you out of there myself" chenle says sarcastically the moment you get inside the passenger seat

you buckle your self in as you huff, crossing your arms

"well, you did threaten me back there" you retort

"and rightfully so. you wouldn't stop. you'll burn out at this rate and that will be more damage for us for what it's worth" chenle rants, eyes straight on the road. he pauses for a moment before glancing towards your direction

"you're the heart and soul of this partnership. the engine even. so if you keep going at it without any rest in between, you'll eventually break. then what happens? postponing and prolonging this entire thing, to more unnecessary things that would probably cost us more than it should. so when i say rest, take it" chenle lectures

you weakly nod your head. too tired to answer him verbally. you lean against the window as you try to relax after a long day

you could say you were used to it when chenle ran his test to test your endurance or whatever the fuck was going on in his head when you first got hired but it's different this time

you weren't just handling him. you were handling two companies all at the same time. juggling everyone's needs and approvals to keep the fire going. this partnership isn't just going to partner with itself. you all had to work for it to work

chenle glances at your direction again before he takes a sharp turn that definitely isn't the way to your neighborhood

"where are we going?" you raise your head from the window to take a look around

"places" chenle answers shortly

"at this hour?" you frown

chenle scoffs. "you made me wait for you past dinner and i'm starving"

and as if on cue, your stomach grumbles. oh right, dinner. you've been so engrossed with your work that you may or may not have forgotten to eat after the little snack JDI had graciously sent over before the storm but then again, chenle had also gotten you malatang out of the kindness of his heart (well more like pity)

"see? even you are hungry" chenle comments, biting back his laughter after hearing your stomach grumble

"just drive, boss" you mutter, too tired to argue, too tired to defend yourself and definitely too hungry to function

. . . ᝰ.ᐟ

you find yourselves at the nearest convenience store

much to your delight. cheap but good food at this hour

you and chenle were now in line at the cashier, chenle stands beside you, scrolling on his phone idly while you hold the basket filled with arrays of ready to eat meals and some junk food just because you two needed it

you subtly try to steal looks at him. he was still in his usual office clothes. designer dress shirt with the first 3 buttons now unbuttoned after a long day. his hair slightly tousled with some pieces sticking out

wait, where's his suit jacket? you could've sworn he was wearing a suit jacket

oh right. you had it earlier. he draped it over you when you fell asleep at your cubicle and you didn't even notice it on your shoulders when you bolted to the conference room where everyone was at til hyuck pointed it out. you ended up giving it back to him but he's not wearing it so who knows where it's at right now

the line had moved quickly and you were now in line at the cashier. you quickly placed everything that was on the basket onto the counter top and the clerk checked everything out

the clerk told you your total and before you could hand the company card (that you really kept in your wallet now) chenle beats you to it

he hands his cashier his black card. his personal card and pays for everything. you open your mouth to protest but chenle simply shushes you and grabs the array of food that's now on a tray courtesy to the clerk and he guides you to where the seatings are inside the convenience store

and the next thing you know, you two are at a table near the hot water dispensers for ramens and mixing up your own different ramen meals with other additions

yours had an egg and mozzarella cheese with cut sausage with tteokbokki on the side while chenle had his own concoction

the only thing you could hear was slurps. goddamn, everyone's starving

you paused stuffing down everything as you finally take a good look at chenle, who was seated beside you, slurping on his ramen. this was the first time you've seen him like this

in your type of world

chenle feels you staring and stares back while he held his ramen bowl up to his face

"what?" he asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin, "something on my face?"

"no" you reply, ".. it's just that you don't look like the type to be here" you blurt out without thinking

chenle looks at you puzzled, raising a brow at what you just said

"what? you're gonna police me for eating at a convenience store?"

"i just thought you'd rather be caught dead than being caught here at a convenience store with us.. normies"

"normies" chenle repeats, "you're saying i would rather be dead than to be seen eating here at a convenience store with you "normies".. did i hear that right?"

you roll your eyes, stabbing a piece of sausage with your lone chopstick

"you know what i mean. you're in a way different tax bracket than us so how should i know" you huff, turning away as you bite onto the sausage

a beat passes by and chenle bursts out laughing

"i can't believe you just said that" he wheezes, a hand over his chest as he calms himself down. "holy shit do you really think of me like that?"

you make a face, suddenly regretting that you even said that. in your defense, you never really saw chenle out of the office. now that you think about it, you barely know him at all. the only non-work related piece of information that you know about him is that he has a dog that he calls his princess and that's it

"i mean, i don't know you like that so don't blame me for thinking otherwise. besides, you look and probably are old money rich. you radiate vibes of that" you pout, poorly explaining your train of thought, "and this is the first time i've seen you like let... loose? i don't even know anymore"

yep. you're out of it

"this is why we need to rest no matter what" chenle comments, taking note of your tired demeanor. you were kind of slurring your words and you aren't exactly as sharp as you usually were when bantering with him

to chenle this whole moment feels vulnerable and so real

he isn't talking to his assistant right now. he's talking to you, jung y/n

"i could be resting if it weren't for jaemin and jeno making changes every 25 seconds" you grumble, your eyebrows starting to furrow at the mere thought of the spreadsheet

"dropping honorifics now?" chenle teases, "what happened to calling them sir?"

"liaison officer y/n has clocked out. this is y/n right now" you correct him, making him laugh again

"you sound drunk right now. did you get drunk off your ramen?" chenle looks at your half empty ramen bowl. you scowl at him, pulling the bowl away from him

"watch it, zhong. we're out the clock so i can say and do whatever i want" you narrow your eyes at chenle, who's honestly finding the entire conversation entertaining. it was like he was getting to know the real you right now and not his assistant

who he knows that likes iced vanilla lattes just like him. the one that gets any job done you give with no complaints (maybe after its done, then you'll start complaining like right now). the one who lives 30 minutes away from the office but still manages to make it time

his assistant that he had started driving to and from work

"do i need to remind you that i'm still your boss even when we're out the clock?" chenle pokes your bowl with his chopstick

"and i don't care anymore" you retort, "i'm so tired. my brain's fried. i think i'm out of it. i'm like in this weird headspace where i think i'm dreaming when i'm not. or i am cause you're eating ramen with me at a CU at like what? 2 in the morning? when you could be eating at a 5 star restaurant or you probably have a private chef at your house—"

"okay i think it's time to get you to bed" chenle cuts your rambling off. he's so amused right now

you hold your hand out, making him pause

"are you going to eat that?" you suddenly point your chopsticks toward his uneaten radish next to his ramen. chenle follows the direction you're pointing at

"this? you can have it if you want" chenle moves the radish near you

you smile and picked up some with your chopsticks and ate it with your ramen

chenle watches silently as you finish the rest of your bowl. this is the very first time he has seen you like this. to see you openly complain about your work and how it's clearly taking a toll on you

he suddenly remembers the time he used to make you work overtime for no reason as a test. he doesn't regret it. it's what solidified his decision to keep you but not that it was his choice. you chose to stay despite the vigorous regime

and because of your decision, he could finally get his mind and hands off of things. he doesn't have to work thrice as hard anymore. he already has a hard time managing and keeping things together with the entire company behind his back and you suddenly came into his life

a person who willingly accepted his challenge to keep up with him and actually succeeded

or maybe that's just who you are as a person

you were eating the remains of your tteokbeokki when chenle breaks the comfortable silence

"why did you stay?" he asks quietly, leaning his forearm on the table as he rests his head on it, just watching you eat

you pause, blinking at him. you were mid bite of the last piece of tteokbeokki when he asked a question

"here?" you look around, making sure he meant the place

chenle shakes his head, chuckling

"no, idiot" he chuckles, "i mean your job. the company. me. i overworked you, pushed you to your limits, made you do things that aren't exactly in your scope but you did it anyway. even dragged you to my personal trip when you were still vaguely new. you could've quit in between but you didn't and i want to know why" he explains, listing off everything you two have done together on the top of his head

you put down the half eaten piece of tteokbeokki back to your ramen bowl as you try to think of an answer

why did you stay

if you were being honest with yourself, you don't even know. maybe you do but it's not exact reasons. there aren't really much to it but somehow you stayed. maybe it's because you feel indebted to your uncle who got you the job in the first place? but even then, you still got in zhong inc. due to pure diligence and it was just a coincidence that chenle needed a personal assistant at the same time you just got hired and your uncle, being the previous partner of zhong inc. had known the right person for the job (you)

"to be honest.. i don't know" you answer truthfully

chenle's ears perk up at your answer

"i mean, my uncle did technically got me the job for me so at first i just did it because of him? but then your stupid test happened" you share, recalling everything you did

chenle waits for you to finish before he speaks

"i had a gut feeling you didn't have a test on all your employees. it just so happened i accidentally spilled coffee all over you and you were out to get me" you narrow your eyes at chenle, pointing a finger at him menacingly

to which the latter could only respond by putting his hands up in mock surrender. he then urges you to continue with what you were saying and you do

"and then somehow at every hurdle you've attempted to throw my way, i overcame them and that's when i wanted to prove you wrong. you were giving me shit that i barely understand since it wasn't in my scope! i told you about it and you just kept saying i can do it so i was like. fine. maybe i can do it and i did. then somehow miraculously i "passed" your test and the rest is history"

"don't forget to tell me the bit in history where you tweeted that you found me so fucking handsome you had to tweet a picture of me—"

"we don't talk about that" you shush him, "that was an accident and i was tired.. just like right now"

"so you don't think when you're tired? thats good to know" chenle cackles. when he calms down, he clears his throat again. "so that's why you stayed? to prove me wrong?"

"maybe" you hum, "to prove you wrong and maybe take on a challenge" you shrug, tearing your tteokbeokki apart

"besides, this will do numbers on my resume and linkedin. imagine being the executive assistant to a ceo with a big name like you? numbers" you joke, chuckling to yourself

chenle raises a brow, "you planning on working else where after?"

you shrug again. "depends but so far i actually like it here despite the chaos. so who knows? treat me well and we'll find out" you say sweetly, throwing him a smile

to chenle, it just sounded like you gave him a challenge

you suddenly hold out a piece of tteokbeokki in front of him

"you want to have this?" you ask, voice small, looking at him

chenle leans close. you can subtly feel his breath fan your face

"sure"

BUSINESS PROPOSAL ᝰ.ᐟ . . . REST

✎ . . . things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.

[ PREV / NEXT ]

✎ AUTHORS NOTE . . . might be my favorite chapter to date....... we eating good bp fans! also if ur observant then..

✎ TAGLIST . . . @mrkleelvr @jenodigital @https-dandelion @rik0shii @spacejip @yyangj3lly @multifandomania @taroddori @222brainrot @amouriu @defzcl @va1entinaa @carelessshootanonymous @onlywonb @flaminghotyourmom @do-you-remember-summer-127 @grimlinshere @yayayaiheardyouthefirsttime @hoeingthefuckup @meltinghershey @alwayswook @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie @dudekiss3r @sibwol @mey-archive @morklee02 @httpsxnox @firydst @yuyita-rosier @ayukas @cottonjaems @monomya @neocults26 @greenyweirdo @cinneorolls @morkleesgirl @jising-jisang-jisung @hsified @kpopwh0r3 @kswluvrr @bbykaixx

[mythals-whore]

OC as a Companion: Cyrilla Mercar

Thank you for the tags @antivan-sprig @biowaredisasterbisexual @thatgaymerguyb @seaglassmelody and i don't think anyone else tagged me in this, but if you did I'm just so sorry it's been a minute since this was left unfinished in the drafts

I have wanted to do this, but it has felt so daunting that I couldn't but look at me overcoming my fear. (Maybe I'll also complete the Why my OC Sucks tag also. At some point.)

Also I don't know who has done this and who hasn't, so I'm passing a few tags to @glitteringdust @gingervitus @flowersforthemachines @sugar-peanut-cat and @jouskaroo and if you've already done this let me know and I'll just give you my home address and you can smother me in my sleep 2nite <3

everything under the cut (:

(thank you @/flowersforthemachines for the divider)

Recruitment quest:

Rook meets the Viper. He informs Rook & Co about a recent uptick in Venatori activity. He has an agent that might be able to help but mentions that her methods might be a little...(he doesn't finish this sentence) Rook and company show up to the Warehouse where they enter a battle with a load of Venatori. Cyri asks Rook who they are, and once they've said they were sent by Ashur she cuts them off with the information that there's a red lyrium relic that's already been smuggled onto a ship. You help her find the relic, explain about the Gods and before Rook even finishes she agrees to join the team.

Cold/Nuetral

Greetings:

Ah, you again.

What am I in for this time?

Dismissal:

Later, then. (if you don't have something exciting for her to do, she literally does not have the time. Probably said with a roll of her eyes.)

I'll be here.

Personal Quest (1):

Her personal questline would start with her saying she's meeting with an old contact and will be back after. Rook has to offer to accompany her to which she reluctantly agrees. What she said was a meeting with a contact is actually breaking into a Magister's house to interrogate him, but he isn't there. Before leaving, they free the magister's slaves, one of whom gives them information on the whereabouts of the Magister's office.

Warm

Greetings:

Come to check in on little old me? (still a little saccharine but with a genuine smile)

Rook, fancy seeing you here.

Dismissal:

Looking forward to next time (a little suggestive but only in good fun)

Don't kill too many Venatori without me.

Personal Quest (2):

Depending on the Treviso/Minrathous choice, Cyri either is caught sneaking out of the Lighthouse, or she asks Rook to accompany her. They sneak into the Archon's palace. (If Treviso was chosen there are a great deal more venatori to fight) In Magister Barbatus's office, Cyri discovers some old files with her name, but they're locked with some kind of magic (Neve helps her with this later). They also find an invitation to fundraising gala for the Vol Dorma Circle of Magi. Cyri explains this is almost certainly a front for an underground Venatori auction.

Friendly

Greetings:

What mischief are we stirring today? (said very fondly and with a wide, devious grin)

Oh good, I was just getting bored.

Missed me, did you?

Dismissal:

I'll be here, waiting. (with a fond, slightly exaggerated roll of the eyes.)

Just promise not to get into too much trouble without me.

Hero of the Veilguard Quest:

You finally catch up with Magister Barbatus at the fundraising gala (which you've all had to dress up for because I want to live my fancy spy dreams). In a backroom, Rook & co discovers an auction for a red lyrium relic that they want to keep out of the Magister's hands (this relic would somehow tie in to Elgar'nan but I'm too lazy to decide how) Only when you corner the magister do you find out that he's responsible for selling Cyri and her Contubernium to the Antaam during the war. Rook can decide to have her kill him* (embracing that Minrathous will always be corrupt and she must fight it by any means necessary) or turning the information she has on him over to the new Archon (use him as an example that the system can still work properly and restore the people's faith in the system) (This choice would heavily influence her take on the Mae/Dorian choice)

*this is the automatic 'hardened' choice if Rook chose to save Treviso.

Romanced

Greetings:

Hey, you. (soft and warm, a little cheeky)

Looking for trouble, are we?

Dismissal:

Whatever you need, Rook, I'll be here.

Just...be careful. (slightly resigned/exasperated. She cannot believe she's saying this)

Bonus!

Cyri’s romance would be a little different. You’d have plenty of flirt options, and pretty early on, there would be an option to kiss her. Shortly after, she propositions Rook to take things further at which point Rook can say no but still take the romance route.

Romance Lock-In (a):

Cyri and Rook begin a casual sexual relationship, but in other companion banters, Cyri makes it clear that its nothing more than that. The Lock-in scene is Cyri pulling clothes back on in the meditation room while Rook watches. She smirks and asks, “what are you looking at?”

Lock-in: You could stay, you know.

(She gives a weird look and says, maybe next time. There isn’t a next time. But after the Hero of the Veilguard scene, she admits to Rook that she has a hard time trusting people but she’s ready to try again. (They kiss)

Lock-out: That was fun. Maybe we could do it again, sometime. (Cyri laughs playfully and says, ‘don’t get ahead of yourself’ and the relationship fizzles)

Romance Lock-in (b):

Rook can continue to flirt with Cyri on this route, but she will no longer reciprocate. If Rook doesn’t lock in a romance with any of the other companions, Cyri comes to the meditation room post-regret prison and confesses her feelings, at which point there would be an intimacy sequence.