#I've been playing this on a loop for two hours

[probadbatch]

Ok I've been a skeptic this whole time but the similarities between the latter half of Battle of the Snipers and Plan 99 have me completely convinced now that CX-2 is Tech. This can't just be a coincidence. I swear it's almost the same music, just with a little techno spin on it.

[aeb-art]

note: the following is three (almost four) years post-game

okay fine i'll just draw comics for my au since writing is so dang hard smh

anyways welcome to two coins! where loop shows up again but siffrin only got the one hat ending

edit: part two

[bunnymadeofstardust]

s-siffdile... ouhh man the old couple style yuri... oughhh, it's getting to me... oh goodness...

[verdiesque]

Woke up terrified and it took me a moment to remember tf is going on and well. It's the visa appointment innit

[highdramas]

a guard dog with a death wish | jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!widow!reader warnings: EXTREME ANGST. like seriously. reader is very distraught. death of a partner, mention of suicidal ideation, language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), there will be an eventual happy ending <3 word count: 2.6k summary: at a grief support group that you never wanted to attend in the first place, jack abbot finds you, and pulls you up by your-- admittedly-- quite sad and pathetic boot straps. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with any of my work or this fic. yay i've finally posted a new fic!!! this is the first part of a new series! yay! not a ton of jack x reader in this part, but it lays the ground work for what is to come <3 i sincerely hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 parts that are to follow may be non-linear on reader's healing journey, but i haven't gotten that far yet so we'll just have to see hehe

the thing that no one thought to warn you about grief is that, a year may pass since the worst moment of your entire life, and you’ll still pat yourself on the back when you get yourself to swallow a bowl of fruity pebbles. the thing they didn’t think to tell you is that two hours of sleep will seem like a miracle– bonus points if the two hours are continuous. the thing that they should put in the pamphlet is that your world is going to end, but everyone else is going to, somehow, miraculously, be so much more put together than you.

you ascertained that you were not doing this whole grief thing right six months ago. when the looks that you received stopped being empathetic, and began to be outright concern. when the texts were more frantic. when it was easier to disconnect from all of it– friends, family, loved ones. how could you explain this feeling to them?

how could you explain that your heart was living somewhere else, outside of your body, so far out of your grasp? how could you explain that every night a future that was never yours, could never be yours, played on a loop in your brain until you were reduced to hot, angry tears? how could you explain any of this to someone and have them understand it, understand you?

it’s not like you thought you were the only person in the world who was grieving tucker. it felt like the whole world was grieving him– that was the type of person he was. but he was your person, first and foremost. he was the person who you sat on the couch with and watched survivor every wednesday night. he was the person who always put the groceries away. he was the person that you lived your mundane little life with– it wasn’t perfect. you didn’t need it to be perfect. that fact that you shared it with him was all that you needed.

it was tucker’s mom who sent you the information for the grief support group. there was a pang of emotion when you saw the text– you hadn’t even seen her since the funeral. you knew, deep down, that she understood. but it didn’t make your feelings of frustration with yourself dissipate.

she could get herself together, and she gave birth to tucker. you were falling apart while she held herself together. it was embarrassing.

the invitation, most likely created on canva, was sent to you in a well-meaning text alongside the words, he loved you more than anyone, or anything. he wouldn’t want you to live like this. if you won’t talk to anyone you know, talk to someone you don’t.

the words, as tough-loved as they were designed to be, didn’t bring you any comfort or resolve for making yourself better. that may be what tucker would’ve wanted– but he died, and you were left behind without the one person who made you feel like you were coming up for air.

tucker sunday was a good man. he was a good man who had loved you entirely and completely and with no reservations, from the moment the two of you met in the first grade. you were new to school, having been relocated to the pittsburgh suburbs from boston. everything felt different and scary– you sat alone on the playground with your hands in your lap, looking from left to right, right to left, hoping that someone might come up to you.

and then there was tucker. gap-toothed and freckled and with a pair of glasses perched on his tiny nose. he plopped beside you with a copy of the lord of the rings in his hand– advanced for a first grader, but that was just how tucker was.

he sat down beside you that sunny day on the playground and he never left.

that was the thing that you think people don’t understand. tucker had been your world, every day– and not in a codependent way. you each had your own, full lives. your own friends and your own families that knew just the right way to blend and merge. you were a librarian at a high school. he was a teacher at an elementary school. you couldn’t carry a tune or play an instrument to save your life. he was the best at the guitar. you loved to bake. he loved to cook.

you balanced one another. and now, the scales have tipped so fast, in such a fervent freefall… how do you climb such a steep mountain back to where you were? when you don’t have someone keeping you even?

you look at the looming building from your place where the bus dropped you off. your hands tremble as you make sure that you have the correct address– you do, of course, because despite your grief, you are still meticulously type a, somewhere inside of yourself.

“my little planner.”

his voice rattles in your head and you have to physically shake your shoulders before you walk through the doors and down the hall, turning left into a room with probably fifteen chairs in a circle. only six are occupied.

a woman turns her head to you and smiles brightly, too brightly for a room filled with such, presumably, weary souls. “hi there,” she gestures towards the empty chairs. “come on in. have a seat.”

your fingers grip your bag tighter, eyes popping from each individual to the next. there’s two people huddled together– sisters, you think. an older gentleman with kind eyes and a long beard who is wearing a veteran hat. a woman in her mid-fifties, if you had to guess, with legs crossed and peering at her phone down the bridge of her nose.

none of them glance up at you, but one.

he’s sitting in the chair facing directly to the door, alert. his eyes don’t leave you for even one singular second as you pad into the room, half wounded animal, half woman. his arms are crossed over his chest and his legs are slightly spread and there’s a camo backpack leaned against his leg. you have to question if you have something on your face or if he just has a staring problem. you decide it must be the latter.

you don’t glare at him in return, but you don’t not glare at him, either. you take tentative step after tentative step until you take a seat one away from him, fixing your hands into your lap and casting your eyes down to them. you look left to right, right to left. you fiddle shakily with the ring that weighs heavy on your left hand. you twirl it and twirl it and twirl it until your skin feels irritated.

introductions begin to happen, but you don’t quite hear them. you’re still staring down at that ring and everything surges at you suddenly, a tidal wave of anguish that takes you by the ankle and drags you under. you don’t realize you’re crying until it’s your turn to introduce yourself and you’re faced with the tell-tale signs of an emotion that you always seem to see, these days.

pity. pity from the sisters, who you presume is the facilitator of the group, and from the two older attendees. pity from all five of them.

your eyes dart over to the man who couldn’t quit looking at you when you entered. you’re momentarily jarred because he’s not looking at you with pity. he looks intense, yes, but not sad for you. you open and close your mouth and for a second, you think it must be because things are going blurry through your tears– but he gives you a small nod of his head.

your mouth falls open again, still hesitant, and he nods again.

heart tumbling over itself, you rub your hands on your pants and share your name. “i’m sorry, what else am i supposed to answer?” you ask, looking to the facilitator. natasha, her nametag reads to you.

“anything that feels right.”

you’re almost certain there were structured questions, but you feel a distant thankfulness for her flexibility. “um…” you wipe away stray tears. “i lost tucker.” you look back down at your lap. “and–” you’re cut off by a box of tissues being placed on the seat beside you. it’s the man with the staring problem, again. your silent encourager. you take one of the tissues and dab at your eyes. you’re not a delicate crier, but you’d like to pretend you are. “tucker was my husband. and–” your vision is gone again, swept away by salt and the smudging of the mascara you put on yesterday when you tried to fool yourself into thinking you were someone who wore mascara and wore cute outfits and took care of herself. “and i lost him almost a year ago. in a car accident. and– and i’m not doing well.” you laugh a little bit, but there’s nothing funny. not even a little bit. “if you couldn’t tell.”

you manage a crackling inhale before you continue on. “and his mom– god, i love her, she sent me the flyer for this. and i don’t want to be here,” you admit, laughing again. “i don’t want to be anywhere. i want to be where he is. still. and no one seems to understand that. i don’t mean it in a scary, i’m going to hurt myself way. i mean it… i mean it in a, i don’t know what’s left of me without him, way.” you blink and look around the circle. “does that make sense?”

every single person nods their head, and for a moment, you feel comforted. the man with the intense eyes nods with a fervor and you’re drawn to meet his gaze, as sad as you think you must look. the corner of his mouth turns up at you.

“anyway,” you sigh, exhausted from the onslaught of emotional upheaval you’ve just experienced. “that’s me.”

the only person left is him. he clears his throat and says, “man. how do i follow that up?”

it should offend you. but there’s a level of light in his eyes that you hope one day you could achieve again, and it makes you laugh and shake your head and look down at your hands while he speaks.

“my name is jack abbot. my wife, annie, died in 2016. i’ve been coming here every week since 2017.”

the rest of the meeting keeps you quiet. you take a handful of tissues and make your best attempt at cleaning up what you imagine is a true sight on your face. the rest of the meeting passes with very little fanfare– everyone shares, and you half-listen, and you can’t muster up the guilt to feel for being so disinterested in everyone else’s grief. you’d accepted, long ago, that your mourning had made you self centered. where once upon a time, you would be mortified at the thought of anyone thinking you to be selfish– you can’t find it within yourself to care, not anymore. you are selfish. you are self centered. grief had made you someone you didn’t recognize.

by the time natasha dismisses everyone, you all but run out to the street. you suck in a deep breath and you sink into a crouching position, covering your mouth with your hand. heavy boot-clad feet come into your line of sight. when you trail your eyes up, you’re met with that storm cloud gaze. jack.

he doesn’t say a word. but he scoops up your tote bag and he slings it over one shoulder, turns heel, and walks off.

your brows furrow, and you have to decide if it’s worth the effort– but ultimately, you stand, the wind stinging your tear-streaked cheeks. “hey,” you call. “that’s my bag.”

he doesn’t turn around. he keeps a steady, casual pace. not running, but not waiting for you to catch up with him, either. “hey!” you call, growing more frustrated. “what, do you just steal bags for a living?”

jack takes a look at you over his shoulder. “yeah, something like that.”

you pick up your speed so that you can fall into step with him. “what the hell are you doing?”

“i’m going to take you to go eat something. because, no offense, you don’t look great.” he looks you up and down while he continues to walk. “when’s the last time that you ate something with some substance? protein, have you ever heard of it?”

your silence is his answer and he grips the totebag a little tighter. “figured you’d say no if i asked. so…”

“so you stole my bag.”

“not stolen,” he says with a disarming smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “i’m gonna give it back. don’t worry.”

“but…” you try and rack your brain for some excuse.

there wasn’t all too much for you to cite. your work hours had been reduced way back in the weeks after tucker passed. you still worked enough to get by, but not so much that you were drowning in work on top of drowning in your own pain. your friends and family were constantly making attempts to make plans with you, but you were diligent in your efforts to firmly stick out an arm and keep them at that length. easier this way, you told yourself. easier for them to be far far away where they cannot see just how damaged you have become. their worry is the last thing that you want, or need.

coming up empty, jack’s smirk spreads on his face. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

–

jack’s eyes are like a blanket on you while you push around the eggs on your plate, take a tentative bite of your toast. your stomach is still in knots, as it always is, so ultimately, you set down your fork, your toast, and push your plate away. you turn your gaze to look out the window. your body is there, in that diner, but your mind is far away when jack’s voice brings you back.

“so. husband.”

your eyes snap over to his before they slide back to the window. “yeah.”

“i know a little something about that.”

your brows furrow and your eyes narrow and you lean in towards him. “you don’t know shit about me, or about what i’m going through.” you huff out a disbelieving laugh. “bold of you to think you do. seriously, wow.”

“no, i know. i know this song and dance. i lived it.” he gestures towards you, and then towards himself, and his look is still not pitying. if anything, he seems more annoyed. “it’s addicting, isn’t it? feeling like shit?”

your mouth drops open and you stare at him, trying to muster the words, but they don’t come. he continues talking. “i bet everyone is coddling you. keeping a safe distance from you, lest you snap. not wanting to push you too hard. right? they’re treating you like something breakable. well, you know what i think?”

“you don’t know a god damn–”

“i think that you need someone who’s going to hold you accountable.”

“accountable?” you reel backwards.

“yeah. accountable. accountable of taking care of yourself. accountable of eating. accountable of dragging yourself out of this hole that you’re in. and i don’t think that anyone is stepping up and doing it.”

you grow silent. it’s not that they’re not stepping up– you’re not letting them. maybe jack knows that, too, since he seems to be able to read you like a well-loved and memorized book.

he folds his hands, one on top of the other, staring at you. “and i’m gonna be that person.”

scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. everything about your body language screams defensive. “why?” you finally ask. you raise your eyebrows up at him.

he shrugs his shoulders. “what can i say,” he stabs his fork into the eggs on your plate, taking a big bite. “i like strays.”

[bbydoll18xx]

I Try to Refrain (But You’re Stuck in my Brain)

You have a dream about Paige, and it leads to some shocking revelations.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Themes: loneliness, reader realizes she's in love with her best friend, paige is a flirt (what's new?)

A/N: hi guys. sorry it's been a hot min. This election has made me miserable and my grandpa just died today so I wrote this to distract myself lol. I wanted to write something that wasn't fluff before coming out with a new part to I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit, so hopefully this will suffice. Please don't let this flop

Also Is There Somewhere is one of most favorite songs of all time you all should check it out if you've never heard it !!

Please enjoy:)

~

There was simply no denying that being a college student was pretty fucking exhausting. Between your on-campus casual job, the extensive list of assignments you had racked up, and the overwhelming need to still have a social life, the circles under your eyes had become much more pronounced in the last few weeks. 

You needed your beauty sleep, or else you’d be well on your way to looking like Shrek by the end of the semester. And because you had been on the hunt to end your single streak, looking like Shrek would be the worst thing to happen. 

You giggle to yourself, the sleep deprivation clearly making you delirious. Checking your watch, you see that you had in fact been up for a whopping 28 hours. It was time for a seriously good nap. You throw your backpack onto the floor of your bedroom, tugging your sweatshirt off of you and flopping down onto your bed. The plushness engulfs you in warmth and comfort, lulling you into a deep, calming sleep, that you so desperately needed.

Or so you thought.

~

You wake up panting. The air around you is suffocatingly hot, and you can feel the sheets twisted uncomfortably around your legs, trapping you in the warmth. Your heart is pounding against your chest, and you slide your hand across your sternum in a futile effort to soothe yourself. 

The dream was quickly fading, and you squeeze your eyes in deep concentration, desperate to hold on to the remnants of it before they fled from your racing thoughts. 

It was hazy. But the pounding of your chest and the fluttering that accompanied made you feel like you were missing a key detail. It was right on the tip of your tongue, inching further and further away the more you search for the answers. 

You were in bed with another person. They were warm, and their laugh was enough to make you want to get down on one knee right then and there. You were cuddled up with them, the feeling of peace washing over you.

It has been a long time since you felt peace, and as you search for more clues to unearth your future love of your life, the wistfulness settles deep inside you. It mocks you, whispering into your ear that you’d never feel so lucky to be at peace with someone. 

The last of the dream fades, and you groan, throwing your arm over your face and vowing to prove your meanest, most vile inner voices wrong. 

Because, goddamn it, you did deserve to be loved. And maybe, just maybe, it would happen for you. 

~

You go to bed that night with a fierce determination to coax your brain into revealing more, and as you settle into bed, you pop two benadryl tablets. 

‘This’ll give me some good dreams,’ you think slyly, before shutting your eyes and waiting for the next clue, sleep quickly overcoming your thoughts.

You sleep soundly, waking the next morning with a crick in your neck and long, blonde hair on your brain. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper, your dream still playing again in your muddled brain. “It’s a girl," you say incredulously.

"Or maybe an Australian surfer dude," you say sarcastically out loud to yourself.

"God, I'm losing it," you mumble, rubbing a hand over your sleepy eyes.

Her face was blank, deluding you of figuring out who it really was, but the familiar, tinkling laughter was playing on a loop. It was making you crazy. 

Your thoughts drift back to being tangled up with lean limbs, the soft hair flowing over slim, strong shoulders and down the girl’s bare back. You recall how you had traced a line down the line of her spine, goosebumps erupting in the wake of your touch. 

She was strong and delicate, a dichotomy of perfection that had your thighs clenching in want and your heart clenching in need.

You sigh. It felt almost real, and now it was being ripped from you every time you woke up. It felt unnecessarily cruel, and tears prick your eyes as reality sets in. You were escaping to a fantasy world in your dreams to avoid the crushing forlornness that was settling deep into your bones. 

Loneliness was certainly the muse, it seemed. 

~

You meet up with your friends later that night, searching for a distraction from the blonde hair that was currently haunting every waking moment. As you cross campus to head to Aubrey’s apartment, you scold yourself as each blonde who passes you makes you glance hopefully in their direction. 

There had to be something to jog your memory, unclouding the face you wanted nothing more to recognize. But each face elicited a disappointed pang in your stomach that spread an uncomfortable coldness through the rest of your body. 

You shake your head as you approach Aubrey’s door, trying to rid yourself of the disheartened aura you were currently giving off. 

You and Aubrey had become friends two years ago, and by extension, the rest of her team and her girlfriend had accepted you with open arms. You were looking forward to Caroline and Azzi’s wisdom and kind smiles. And KK and Ice’s laughter would certainly be a great distraction. 

Your mind gently drifts towards Paige before the door swings open with a large bang, and a loud, joyous cry erupts from the group of girls in the apartment. 

You wave at them, cheeks turning pink from the attention. You scan the room, letting your brain secretly look for Paige, just to check to see if it would trigger the flashes of your dream. 

You move towards the kitchen, joining into a heated discussion KK and Jana were having about Legos, eyes still darting around curiously.

“I’m obviously the best and fastest builder,” KK boasts, sticking her tongue out childishly at her teammate, and you giggle, taking a sip of your drink as Jana voraciously defends herself and her Lego-building abilities.

It was almost subconscious. You step back, as if you were being pulled against your will, and you hit a wall of warmth and muscle. Your heart lurches as your mind registers what was happening. 

“Damn, ma. I gotchu, don’t worry,” Paige mumbles in your ear, chuckling as you turn into a bumbling mess in her firm grasp. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry, P,” you whisper, not trusting your full voice. You steady yourself, proud that you at least did not spill your drink. 

Her hand slides down your side to rest heavily on your waist, and her touch ignites a fire in your belly. Your breath hitches as you look up at her. Her hair is down for once, flowing across her shoulders, and your head spins as she laughs again. 

You knew that laugh.

“Never gonna complain about having to rescue a pretty girl,” she flirts, and you turn your head, not wanting her to see the way her words sent your face up in a blaze of heat. The realization hits you like a crashing wave.

Your dream was about Paige fucking Bueckers.

Your friend, Paige Bueckers. 

You were so goddamn fucked.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

~

What'd we think?? Please let me know. I might do another part if you guys are up for it.

Thanks so much for reading. I'm hoping I will be writing more frequently from now on

xoxo katy

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[biteyoubiteme]

gameboy

huening kai x fem!reader warnings: 🔞!!! sub!member kinda, hand job, teasing, oral (m!rec), prob forgot some sorry wc: 1.8k an: >< rain sent me an ask about this and I love love love this genre of txt and specifically kai <33 [m.list]

“The machine ate my quarter,” the sound of your voice made Kai jump from his spot behind the counter. The night had been slow, the music only just now dimmed down to let everyone know in the next hour the arcade would be closed. But he had hardly seen anyone all night, even the ticket exchange had been silent, his shift passing with him on his phone or trying and failing to cram the last bit of studying in. 

“O-oh, I can—could you show me the game?” The stutter in his words made you crack a smile, the kind Kai had seen you flash in casual conversation sitting only the row down from him in your shared lecture hall.  

He had watched you pull out your phone time and time again, flipping the camera to face you as you fixed your lip gloss. His eyes darted away from being noticed, but unbeknownst to him, you had caught him every single time. Boys had a tendency to look in your direction, follow the soft end of the applicator trace the line of your bottom lip but none of them had turned away with the same faint blush huening always had on his cheeks. 

The same pink tint that he wore now when you bent more than you should have in a skirt that short, showing him how the game didn't return your change. He fumbled for his keys, hooked to the belt loop of his jeans that suddenly felt too tight over nothing but the flash of your panties. “Sometimes the button gets…” 

He can't even find what he had been trying to say, mind blank with you blinking back at him, “Sticky?” the word only brought back all the times he has watched you with your lip gloss, his eyes falling to your mouth with its teasing smile. 

“I'll get you your coin back, and if you still want to play, it should work fine,” Kai says, bent to one knee, fiddling with the machine to fix it. 

“It's okay it was my last one. My friends left me and I don’t even know how you're supposed to aim on this thing. I swear I've never hit one of these little hearts,” you flicked the toy gun in its holster. It had been the same game you had started the night with, failing twice and giving up only to come back to try to redeem yourself with no luck. 

Kai pulled out a few quarters, holding them palm up for you to take. “Yeah this one always gives people trouble, there is one spot that if you stay aiming at you will at least get half of all the shots you make,” talking about the game felt better than stumbling through a regular conversation, even with him so close to your bare thigh. 

“Really?” you take the coins from him before he locks the machine back up. 

“Just don't tell anyone I told you that,” and when he stands you bend to slip one of the quarters in to try even if you did only make half or all the shots. 

“Could you show me?” the machine rings to life, the little bell like jingle twinkling as you pick up the toy gun. 

Kai didn't know how he had found himself in the position, his front pressed to your back with his hands over yours trying to guide you in the right direction. looking over your shoulder trying and failing to keep some kind of distance between the two of you when he felt like he would tumble over the edge of embarrassment if you inched even a step back. 

He lined up the shot, “Right…here,” his voice soft and whispered right next to your ear, his finger curled around yours on the trigger, pressing down and hitting the target with ease. Your surprised laugh shook your shoulders, your body curving into his like it was second nature. His pants still felt tight, half hard in his jeans like he was some perv and he knew you would notice if you pushed in closer so he tried to pull away but you wouldn't let him. 

You melted into his hold turning your cheek until your noses were close enough to brush, “thank you,” his shuddering breath in response washing over you when you pressed your ass right against him because of course you had caught him, wrapped him up on your webbing like it was your plan all along. “You know I could help you with that,” the ghosting of your lips brushing his only made him harder, the anticipation for something that may or may not happen driving him insane before the game in front of the two of you rings causing both of you to jump. 

His moment was lost as you looked back, his hands falling away from yours, his cheeks and ears burning. The game's screen was saying to call for an attendant, the ticket reel empty and needed to be refilled. 

“I'll be back,” because he couldn't stand around feeling as embarrassed as he did. He knew you had other boys waiting for even a second of your time in the way that he just had. He had not taken charge, had not kissed you instead of pulling away. No, he had gotten hard and stuttered and now he was running away to the supply closet hoping you wouldn't ever tell anyone what had happened. 

The second he was in the small confined storage room he leaned his head on the shelves, trying to catch his breath and cursing at himself. He didn’t even want to think about you waiting there probably texting the friends who had left you there, giggling over the boy who wanted you enough to forget himself. 

His sulking, although internal, felt loud to his own ears, enough so that he did not hear you come in and shut the door behind you until the lock was twisted. The sound of the heavy steel brought him to look at you. 

The low light of the single bulb washed both of you in partial shadow. "Do you need any help?” The redundant question only made him shiver. He needed all the help in the world because you were sliding your hands up his chest, and he couldn't look away from your lips. His nose was already trying to dip closer to yours, and the soft hum of a whimper caught in the back of his throat. 

“Can I kiss you?” the thread of need intertwined in every syllable, snapping when you finally pulled him in closer to you giving him what the both of you wanted. Kai’s body reacted instantly, curving into you, hands sliding down your back, hot and heavy as they pulled your hips in closer to him, enough so that you were utterly flush with him. 

Kai was receptive to every brush of your fingers, one hand threaded between the stands of his hair at the back of his neck, the other making its way down to the bulge in his jeans he was desperately grinding against you as you deepened the kiss he can't pull away from. You fumbled with his zipper, his soft groan ringing in your mouth when you finally tugged it down. “Y-you don't have to-” but he was pressing his clothed cock closer to your palm, begging for more.  

“If you want me to stop all you have to do is say so,” but you slipped a single finger into the waistband of his underwear, running along the elastic, taunting him. 

“Please, don’t stop,” his brow was crinkled just right, eyes pleading with you seconds before he let out a pretty moan, lashes fluttering as you pulled his already leaking cock free from the confines of fabric. 

Never would you have thought that you would have been here with Kai, with him making the sweetest noises you had ever heard over nothing but a few loose strokes. He couldn't keep his gasps quiet enough, the fear of getting caught by anyone was stuck in his mind even if he was one of two workers closing and the door was locked. So he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning out over your skin as you giggled, “You're so sensitive,” 

And it was true, his body was trembling. He had never been this hard, this needy. Even his whimpered apologies had never slipped past his lips at this rate but he couldn't help it, not when you knew exactly how to handle him. 

“Don't be sorry,” your soft coo only made his knees weak, “I love to see the way you react to me,” and the only thing that was flickering through your mind was being able to see this vision over and over again, witness it from every angle. You pull away, sinking to your knees in front of him. 

Kai is confused for no more than a second before you're taking him into your mouth, hot and wet enough to make him roll his head back in a throaty moan. Neither of you cares about being loud anymore, not when you’re dragging his tip across your bottom lip, the memory of you and your lip gloss permanently altered in that moment, replaced with this visual. 

Whatever you can't fit into your mouth is taken care of with your hands, the sensation making Kai lean back against the shelves behind him, hair falling back from his forehead while his thighs tremble. He's doing everything he can to keep his hands away from pulling you further down on his cock but it's almost too much when you start to moan. The vibrations race up his spine, one hand curling around your skull as he bucks his hips up into your mouth. 

You don't stop him from pressing further down your throat, your eyes tearing up as you steady your hands on his thighs letting him fuck into you. Kai is brainless, following the feeling of pleasure without realizing that he's found a rhythm brutal enough to nearly choke you before he stutters, hips jerking as he squeezes his eyes shut, “Oh fuck- oh fuck-” the words so foreign to your ears from soft shy kai who was afraid to look at you. 

He twitches against your tongue, hot spurts of his cum salty and welcome as you swallow them down. When you pull away you wrap a loose fist around him, tugging to help him ride out his high, his soft pants mixed with your giggle. 

“I'm sorry I couldn't help myself-” he starts, face flushed and embarrassed before you cut him off. 

“No, don’t be sorry, I like that you can't control yourself around me,” you pull yourself up to stand, kissing along his jaw before whispering in his ear, “Next time you'll be just as good for me, won't you?”

taglist 🏷: want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @taegyutomorrow @izzyy-stuff @bambiihee @filmnings @jellymochii @felixleftchickennugget @yunverie @bts-txt-ateez @dawngyu @luvsicktyun @hyukascampfire @bamgyuuuri @xylatox @lickingan0rchid @no1likemybbgcharlie @demidelulu

[rika-mmendmethings]

Feline Hexes l Sylus

Summary: A prolonged game of kitty cards angers the kitty gods, who curse Sylus to become a cat, which leads to a series of misadventures and an un-fur-gettable day.

Warning(s): Tooth-rotting fluff, written with female reader in mind, might die from the cute aggression you get from Cat Sylus, short and sweet, slightly suggestive at the end, cheesy, kissing, pet names like sweetie and kitten used.

Word count: 2.6k

Now playing: Angel Baby by Troye Sivan

Notes: I've read a lot of fics where the reader turns into a cat so I couldn't help but want Cat Sylus and the rest is history ♥

It was another normal Sunday. As normal as playing kitty cards with the leader of Onychinus sitting across you could be considered. You two had been at it for approximately two hours and seventeen minutes and not once had you even stood up for a breather. You were dead-set on settling the score with the man in front of you because eating dirt was genuinely not your forte. It appeared it wasn’t his either because he had not shown an ounce of mercy to you despite your pleas and outbursts and now you were stuck in an endless loop of losing.

You internally rejoiced when you picked out an assist card, which happened to be the magic paw card. You kept your composure, scanning the cards in your hand once more: one Magic Paw card, one Paw Combo, one Purrcieve, and two number cards. Perfect. Victory would be within your grasp in the next round. Sylus had no number cards left, and judging by what you could see, only three assist cards in his hand. With the two cups left, you were confident that nothing—absolutely nothing—could take this sweet glory from you.

As it turned out, your win was not taken away; rather, it was deliberately snatched out of your awaiting, outstretched arms. Veiny hands that had you gushing over them with admiration every other day were now making you want to break them as they set down his cards. He gained another assist card, then one by one, placed all four of his cards down. His Freeze card had both you and your next assist card phase freezing. His combo attack, first from Cat-ching and then from Paw Combo, left you wounded. And just when you thought that at least the round would end in a tie because of your matching points, the bane of your existence shoved his last card and another easy win in your face. Magic paw. You could only watch, horror etched across your face, as Sylus reduced your highest point cup to a mere one point.

“Sylus.”

“Yes, kitten?”

“...I’m going to weep.”

“...Do you want my shoulder, a tissue, or both, sweetie?”

 You let out an exaggerated groan, dragging your hands down your face in exasperation. Sylus was at your side in an instant, his large arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. You knew you were being petulant, but the feeling of frustration didn’t dissipate, causing you to absentmindedly kick your feet beneath the table like a child amid a tantrum. His chest rumbled with laughter, a rich sound that made your heart flutter and your anger soften, until his next words pierced through your thoughts.

"Seems like a skill issue to me, sweetie."

You pulled away from him sharply, shooting him a glare that could have melted steel, though he only laughed harder. Typical Sylus, always rubbing his victories in everyone’s face. Without a word, you stood up, informing him that you were heading to the bathroom. The last thing you saw before you turned the corner was Sylus, now surrounded by all the upset Cats from the Meow’s Café, their tails puffed and ears flat in distress, clustering around his feet in a chaotic display. Serves him right. He had been ruthless to both you and the Cats, insisting on one round after another.

When you finally returned to your table, you only saw the Cats lazing around there. All that was left was a dotted line where Sylus had last been standing. You searched high and low but he was nowhere to be found. Just as you were about to ask a nearby employee, a pristine puff of alabaster white caught your eye from the corner of your vision beneath the table. Curiosity piqued, you bent down to investigate further. There, staring up at you with crimson eyes you had long grown fond of, was not your boyfriend, but rather a small white Cat with an unamused gaze and cautious stance. 

You blinked, processing the odd sight, and then shifted your gaze to the other Cats lounging around the table. It didn’t even surprise you when the other Cats seemed to regard the white puffball with a mix of indifference and quiet suspicion. Some even narrowed their eyes at it, which prompted the white fluff to hiss back in a clear display of annoyance. The situation slowly began to sink in, and you, now fully convinced, scooped the fluffy creature up and placed it on the table to meet your gaze.

"Sylus?" you asked tentatively.

A small, disoriented meow graced your ears as a response from the fur ball. It took barely a minute for the realization to sink in before you were on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you clutched your stomach, shaking from the intensity of your laughter. The sound echoed loudly as you cackled uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Cat Sylus made his way over to your scattered hair, pawing at it while hissing in irritation.

“Ouch, ouch! Okay, okay, I won’t laugh anymore. Stop pulling my hair!” you stammered, trying to Catch your breath between fits of laughter. You sat up, running a hand through your tangled hair, and risked one more glance at Cat Sylus. The sight of him only made you snort with laughter again. But you finally stopped when you saw your boyfriend-turned-cat sulking in a way that was so quintessentially him. Without hesitation, you gathered him into your arms, lifting him high into the air just like Rafiki did with Simba in The Lion King.

A smug grin tugged at your lips as you couldn't help but ask, “Who's the kitten now, Sylus?”

Cat Sylus huffed indignantly, ears flattened and tail swatting at your hands in a futile attempt to free himself. You gently set him back on the table and took a seat across from him. The two of you locked eyes, unblinking, until an overwhelming sense of affection surged through you. A wide, ecstatic grin spread across your face as cute aggression took over.

You squealed in delight, cupping Cat Sylus’s rounded cheeks in your hands before pulling him tightly to your chest. You couldn't resist nibbling at his ears and burying your face in his soft fur, cooing sweet praises all the while. You felt like that one Chinese influencer who was famous for her adorable Cat and the high-pitched, cute aggression she gets whenever she sees it. Surprisingly, Cat Sylus didn’t protest. He simply sat there, enduring your onslaught of affection. And if you observed closely, you might have even noticed the faintest trace of contentment in his eyes, as though he were almost basking in the warmth of your adoration.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his small forehead and scratched behind his ear comfortingly as you assured him, “Don’t you worry, baby. I’ll talk to the employees about how to get you back to your normal form at the earliest. Although I wouldn’t mind you like this for a few more hours.” Cat Sylus narrowed his eyes but didn’t stop purring like a broken record as you offered him more chin scratches. 

You held a reluctant Cat Sylus up by his scruff and walked over to the Meow Cafe’s counter, with him swaying in your hand. You placed him on top of the counter, pressing a finger to your lips and motioning for him to stay put as you rang the small yellow bell to summon an employee. You glanced up at the clock above the counter, which showed a quarter past seven in the evening, reminding you that the cafe closed when the clock struck eight.

A woman in her mid-thirties emerged from behind the counter, tipping her cap in greeting before asking if you needed assistance. You gestured to Cat Sylus, briefly explaining, “My boyfriend and I had been playing for quite some time. I stepped away to answer nature’s call, but when I returned, he had been transformed into a Cat. So, I’m hoping we can find a way to turn him back into a human.”

The woman clasped her hands together after listening to your story and reassured you, “This isn’t anything new for us. The cafe kitties have cursed people before, especially if they’re irritated. Just last week, a purple-haired, pettish man was cursed to turn into a cat as well. However, his girlfriend seemed far more concerned than you, as it turned out her boyfriend had a strong distaste for the very animal he had transformed into. You don’t need to worry too much though—the curse could wear off anywhere between a few hours and a day. If your boyfriend hasn’t reverted to his human form by tomorrow afternoon, you can bring him back here, and we’ll see what we can do.” 

She reached out to pet Cat Sylus, but he had other ideas. He ducked beneath her raised hand and hopped off the counter, quickly standing between your legs. The two of you shared mildly awkward smiles as you nudged him lightly with your foot, waving off his antics. “He’s even more complicated as a Cat, sorry.” You carefully gathered him up in your arms and placed him inside your backpack, leaving the zipper slightly open so he could breathe and poke his head out to take in his surroundings. After offering a polite farewell to the employee, you boarded Sylus’s motorcycle, securing your helmet in place. You glanced over your shoulder one last time to make sure he was comfortable before revving the engine and heading off toward the N109 zone.

You put Cat Sylus down on the black marble floors of his mansion, watching him stretch and meow softly. The sound immediately pulled Luke and Kieran out of their video game trance. They leaped off the sofa and rushed over to where Cat Sylus stood. Simultaneously, the twins pointed at the white ball of fur and asked, “What is this?”

“A cat,” you deadpanned, kicking off your shoes before scooping up Cat Sylus and strolling over to the sofa.

Your boyfriend’s most loyal henchmen—your children in all but legal names—followed you closely, sitting down beside you. You could practically feel their curiosity radiating off them in waves. Kieran was the first to speak, “Yeah, but where did you find it? Why is it here?” Luke chimed in between Kieran’s question, “Does boss-man know about this? What are you planning, missus?”

You pressed your hands over your ears in an exaggerated motion, pulling them away only when they got the hint and stopped their relentless barrage of questions. You gestured toward Cat Sylus, who had now settled comfortably on the armchair where he usually sat. With a matter-of-fact tone, you explained, “That is Sylus himself. We were playing kitty cards for far too long, and it ended up angering the Meow Cafe’s kitties, who cursed Sylus to turn into a Cat. The curse should wear off soon enough.”

The twins’ mouths formed an ‘o’ as they nodded in unison, their eyes fixed on their boss-turned-cat. They could have said so much more, even teased Sylus endlessly, but the scarlet-tinted glare directed at them was the only thing keeping them in check. It carried the unspoken threat of impending doom once he reverted back, should they dare utter a single word.

The twins settled for a half-hearted salute to Cat Sylus before scurrying away to their rooms after concluding that it was for the best if they left their boss in the best mood. You had an arm draped over your eyes and that was probably why you didn’t notice your Cat boyfriend straightening with gradual zeal when his beady crimson eyes fell upon a shiny earring that lay between the beak of his own creation, Mephisto. 

Your body had practically melted into the soft, plush leather after such a chaotic day when you suddenly felt it—silence. It was unusually quiet, and the absence of noise made your brow furrow in confusion. Slowly, you lifted your arm from your face and gasped in disbelief as your eyes took in the scene before you. Mephisto was frolicking around at Cat Sylus, who was curled up on the center table, a diamond earring resting under his left paw. Every so often, he swatted lazily at the mechanical crow as though it were nothing more than a bothersome fly.

Upon noticing that you were awake, Mephisto flew over and perched himself on your shoulder, cawing loudly as if to explain his dilemma—Cat Sylus had stolen from his precious collection. You gently patted the top of Mephisto’s head in understanding before prodding your Cat-boyfriend to coax him into opening his eyes. He peeked up at you with one ruby eye, a lazy smirk tugging at his muzzle, before closing both eyes again as if you were some lowly peasant unworthy of his attention. You huffed in mild offense, silently noting how, even in his feline form, Sylus still managed to maintain the same aloof mannerisms.

You poked him again, clicking your tongue. "Sylus, this won't do. Give Mephisto back the earring. Why are you even taking from his collection?"

At last, Cat Sylus opened his eyes, and you had to take a deep breath to stop yourself from melting—an almost impossible task, considering he was looking at you with those big, innocent eyes. He nudged the earring toward you with his muzzle and meowed sweetly. If you hadn’t melted before, you were certainly a puddle now. You nearly cooed, realizing that he was offering the earring to you, his beloved.

You picked up the earring and handed it to Mephisto, allowing the crow to fly off to his secret collection hideout. Then, you turned your attention back to Cat Sylus. You stroked his forehead affectionately, watching as he slow-blinked up at you. With a fond tone, you spoke, “I appreciate it, Sylus. But maybe it’s best to let Mephisto have it since the earring isn’t in its pair. Come on, let’s go to bed—it’s late.”

You walked to your shared bedroom, Cat Sylus trailing behind you. After freshening up, you decided to clean him with a wet napkin and even brought him a large bowl of lukewarm milk, knowing he would prefer it to cat food. You chuckled when you noticed his silvery muzzle dripping with milk, the contrast stark, like white crayon on white paper.

When you finally settled onto your back, Cat Sylus wasted no time, curling up on top of you, his tiny form resting gently on your chest with his tail wrapped around himself. You smiled tiredly, pressing a gentle kiss to his nose and giving him a few belly rubs before drifting off into sleep.

You awoke to a heavier weight on your chest than the night before. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft morning light. A familiar brush of knuckles moved your hair away from your face, and as you looked up, your gaze met your lover's—human once again. The corners of his lips curled into a Cheshire grin as his ruby eyes roved over your face. You breathed in recognition and murmured, “Sylus.”

“Hello to you too, sweetie. Missed me, hm?” he drawled, and you shook your head in playful denial, teasing him.

He was lying shirtless, his chin resting on your sternum, dressed in grey sweatpants—likely after he’d shifted back while you were still asleep. You let your fingers weave through his bed-tousled strands, and in response, he nuzzled into your chest. You let out a huff of laughter and asked, “Sylus?”

He didn’t stop his ministrations, and with a playful tone, he supplied, “I hope I didn’t lose my cat privileges just because I’m not a cat anymore.”

You held back a shudder when he pressed a peck to your clothed cleavage and pulled him up to your eye level by his hair and replied, “Not at all.” He grinned devilishly before sealing your lips with his and what followed after could only be guessed.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[santaasi]

no final cut

pairing: film director!james potter x actress!reader

summary: in the quiet glow of a nearly finished film, two souls trade unspoken confessions like delicate frames in a timeless reel

warnings: slow burn, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 2.2k

a/n: wrote this in two hours and got completely obsessed with these two. I've already written their first meeting and a few more scenes. If you like it, I’d love to turn 'muse' into a series of blurbs in the future

ᯓ★ now playing…

new west - those eyes

THE FIRST TIME HE CALLED YOU HIS MUSE, YOU LAUGHED.

Not because it was funny — well, maybe a little — but because it sounded like a line. One of those too-smooth, too-easy things men like James Potter say when they want to make you feel like the center of the universe without actually putting you in orbit.

You’d rolled your eyes and muttered that he was full of shit.

And he’d just smiled. That infuriating, lopsided smile of his — the one that made it feel like he knew something you didn’t. Like the joke was never quite on him.

That’s the thing about James. He always looks at you like there’s a secret strung between you, just out of reach. Some lingering, silent beat you’re missing in the script. You tell yourself it’s annoying. You even almost believe it.

He’s been casting you in his films since college. Back then, he was all caffeine-fueled chaos and wild-eyed ambition — living off instant noodles and half-written screenplays, building worlds out of cigarette smoke and god complexes. His stories bled with feeling. Unapologetically raw. And he’d ask you to break open on camera like it was easy. Like he knew you could.

And you did. Every single time.

Maybe because it felt good to be needed. Or maybe because you liked the challenge. Maybe — if you’re honest — it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the way he watched you through the viewfinder, jaw tense, breath shallow, like you were the only real thing in the shot. Like the whole film might fall apart if you didn’t deliver.

But that was then.

Now it’s years later, and somehow you’re still here. Still the girl in his frame. Still showing up on set with a script he wrote with you in mind — always you, even when the character’s name is something else. Still in his too-small apartment at midnight, with rough cuts playing on loop and the sound of the city bleeding through the cracked window.

You’re standing barefoot on the hardwood, arms crossed, watching the scene flicker across the monitor.

It’s the one he promised to leave in — the rooftop scene. The one that meant something. The one where your character almost says it. Almost confesses what she’s been swallowing for the entire goddamn film.

But in the cut, it’s gone. Vanished like it was never there.

You move closer without a word, wine glass dangling from your fingertips. Then you perch on the edge of his cluttered desk, your legs crossing slow, deliberate — just enough to make his jaw twitch. You’re still in his shirt — threadbare and soft with time — and a denim skirt that rides dangerously high every time you shift. You know exactly what you’re doing. And so does he.

James is hunched over his laptop, elbows deep in tangled cables and crumpled scripts, squinting at the timeline like it personally betrayed him. The glow of the monitor flickers over his cheekbones, and for a moment, he looks more ghost than boy. His curls are a mess. His T-shirt is inside out. And he’s still the most magnetic thing in the room.

“You cut the rooftop scene,” you say at last, voice feather-light. Teasing. Like you’re only just now noticing. You sip the wine, slow and amused.

He doesn’t look at you. Just grunts. “It was too long.”

“It was sexy long. Simmering. Dripping with tension. Very French.”

“You hate French cinema,” he mutters, fingers flying across the trackpad, aggressively color grading like it might save him.

“Exactly,” you say, stretching your legs toward his chair so your toes nudge the wheel. “And I still liked that scene. That has to count for something.”

He finally glances up. His gaze skims over your legs — lingers a half-second too long — before meeting your eyes.

“Nothing ever happens in your scenes,” he says, dry, deflecting.

You tilt your head, slow smile unfurling. “Well, whose fault is that, director?”

James shifts in his seat, jaw tight, pretending to focus on a frame-by-frame splice like it’s the most urgent thing in the world. Like he can’t feel the heat pouring off your skin just inches away.

You lean in slightly, voice warm and close enough to brush his neck.

“I gave you gold, you know. I looked at him like I was about to ruin his life with a kiss.”

His breath catches — barely, but you hear it.

“And that,” he says, still not looking at you, “is exactly why I cut it.”

You laugh — sharp, delighted. “Oh, come on. What is your problem with unresolved sexual tension?”

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

“No?” you tease, swirling the wine lazily. “Then why do you always cut it out like it’s some kind of continuity error?”

That’s when he looks at you. Really looks.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

And there it is again — that maddening thing in the way his eyes trace yours. Not hungry. Not desperate. But intent. Like he’s holding something behind his teeth. Like he’s loved you longer than he’s had the language to explain it.

“You’re too distracting,” he says finally. His voice is low. Measured. Honest.

You blink. Something in your chest catches. Then you grin like it doesn’t shake you.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this critique session, James.”

He huffs a laugh, low and dry, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Behind him, the rooftop scene flickers again on the monitor — muted and golden, the shadows of two people under a too-wide sky. Close enough to fall into each other. Close enough to break something.

Almost.

Always almost.

James doesn’t turn, but you catch the tug at the corner of his mouth. The kind of smile he only lets slip when he’s tired or tipsy or forgetting to be careful around you. The kind you’ve memorized like a scene you’ll never get to shoot again.

You shift, just slightly, your voice soft but laced with a familiar edge. “Let me guess. Afraid the audience might catch on?”

He glances over his shoulder. “Catch on to what?”

“That you’ve been in love with your lead actress for three years.”

The words fall too easily from your mouth — like you’re joking. Like they don’t taste like truth.

James doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just says, quietly, “Longer.”

The silence stretches.

You raise an eyebrow, slow. “Shame she thinks you’re full of shit.”

“Shame she keeps showing up anyway.” He leans back in his chair, gaze skating lazily over your bare legs and wine-stained lips. “Even when she could be anywhere else. With anyone else.”

You take another sip, slow and deliberate. “Maybe she has a soft spot for hopeless directors with martyr complexes.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “I prefer ‘visionary with limited resources.’”

You hum. “You mean the editing kink?”

He chokes on a breath — actual laughter this time. “You’re relentless.”

“I’m observant.” You tilt your head. “I’ve seen how you touch your keyboard like it’s going to break if you press too hard.”

He groans and drags a hand down his face. “Jesus. I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

“Not a chance.”

And then, the quiet again. The kind that feels heavier than it should.

Because underneath all of it — beneath your teasing and the wine and the god-awful lighting in his apartment — you know why you’re here.

You could charge him. You should. You have an agent now. Offers. A calendar so full it barely leaves time for sleep.

But when James calls, you always say yes.

Because when he casts you, it isn’t out of convenience. He doesn’t shoot around your schedule or your press tours or the latest award buzz.

He shoots you.Like he needs your face in the frame to remember what he’s trying to say. Like you’re the story he keeps trying to tell — but never quite finishes.

And you still remember the first time the camera found you.

A gravel parking lot. Midsummer. The air thick and heat-struck, the kind that sticks to your skin and makes you mean. He’d forgotten extra battery packs, of course — too distracted with lighting setups and shot lists scribbled on crumpled napkins. You were sunburnt, sweating through thrifted lace, ankles screaming in platform boots you regretted the second you stepped out of his car.

And still, he wanted a crying scene.

You were mid-rant — halfway through telling him exactly what you thought of his pretentious Mystery short, about how you weren’t some manic pixie fever dream for his ego — when you caught him staring.

Not at your legs. Not at your cleavage.

At your face.

Like you’d just cracked open the sky.

“Don’t stop,” he said, voice quiet.

You blinked. “What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. The anger. That rawness. God, it’s perfect. That’s exactly what I needed.”

You’d wanted to throw your boot at his head. Instead, you turned back to the camera, swallowed your pride, and gave him the best goddamn scene of his undergrad life.

That was the day he started calling you his muse.

And that was the day you decided he was completely, irrevocably full of shit.

But then you saw the final cut.

And something shifted.

Because for once, someone had seen you — not just the attitude or the sharp tongue or the way you always ruined your own chances in auditions because you refused to soften your edges. He saw all of it and kept the camera rolling. He didn’t ask you to smile. He didn’t trim the fury from your expression.

He framed it. Held it. Let the world look.

Back then, your world was just one university campus and a handful of kids trying too hard to be brilliant. But when that film screened — when your face filled the room, eyes wet, voice shaking — they saw it too.

Even the professor who never remembered your name, who dismissed you every time you spoke in class, called it startling. Honest. Visceral.

For the first time, you weren’t just the difficult girl. You were the lead.

And after that… how could you walk away?

He opened a door you’d been kicking at for years.

Even now — with all the scripts, all the indie directors calling you visionary, with agents and deadlines and strangers saying your name like it matters — you still end up here. On this couch. In his too-big shirt. In the glow of his laptop screen.

Because no matter where you go, no one frames you like James does.

The wine bottle’s empty. The film’s nearly finished. You’re curled on the couch, tipsy and warm, scrolling aimlessly while he clicks through final scenes with that familiar furrow in his brow.

Your voice is lazy, loose: “Still not invoicing you, by the way.”

He glances back at you, distracted. “I told you. I’m paying you this time.”

“You said that last time.”

“I meant it then, too.”

You smile softly, eyes on him. “You really think I show up for the money?”

He doesn’t answer, but something shifts in his expression — quiet and unreadable.

You tilt your head, watching him. “Come here.”

He hesitates, gaze flicking toward you like he’s weighing the air between you, like it’s a line he’s not sure he’s allowed to cross.

But then he moves. Comes to sit on the edge of the couch, close enough that your bare knee brushes his jeans.

You hum, a pleased sound. Then, without asking, you swing your legs up and settle them across his lap, the denim of your skirt sliding higher. You’re warm, soft, loose-limbed. One hand still cradles your phone, the other rests gently on his forearm.

He goes still at first, but then you feel it — that quiet shift as he exhales and lets himself sink just slightly into the cushions.

You run your fingers along the inside of his wrist, featherlight. “See? Isn’t this nicer?”

His voice is quiet. “Dangerous, more like.”

You pretend not to hear it.

Instead, you brush your toes lightly against his ribs, teasing. “You always look like you’re bracing for a car crash when you sit near me.”

“That’s not why,” he murmurs.

You glance up at him. He’s already watching you.

So you shift closer. Let your hand leave his arm, drift up — fingers threading gently through the overgrown waves of his hair.

James shudders, almost imperceptibly. But he doesn’t pull away.

“You ever gonna write me a part where I get to kiss the lead?” you ask softly, eyes half-lidded.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t joke like he usually does.

Then: “You’d hate me if I wrote what I really want.”

You trace your nails gently through his hair. “Try me.”

His eyes fall closed. He leans ever so slightly into your touch.

And you both sit there for a while — just breathing in the quiet. Your legs draped over him. His fingers ghosting up your calf now, slow and thoughtless. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like touching you is as natural as blinking.

Neither of you moves when your phone slips from your hand onto the cushions. Neither speaks when you shift, curl slightly toward him, resting your head against his shoulder like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

Eventually, you feel him shift too. An arm snakes around your waist. His fingers settle at your hip, light but steady. You hear him sigh into your hair.

And just like that — without resolution, without answers — you both start to drift.

The laptop screen still glows, casting pale flickers across the room. The scene he was editing loops quietly behind you — your face frozen mid-smile, mid-line, mid-almost.

You, in his arms now. Tucked into the crook of his body, legs tangled in his lap.

Two people caught in a moment neither one of them ever quite finishes.

Still unwritten. Still unreleased. Still his favourite scene.

thankx for reading <3

I hadn’t planned on writing for james this weekend, but here we are. I’ve been battling a bad flu and had a fever, but this plot came to me in a dream, and now I’m completely in love with them. I really hope you want to see more of them in the future! I’d appreciate any feedback, whether in the comments or my inbox. :3

                                    – your santi 🪐

masterlist

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

Two Ghosts music video - plot & analysis

the video's plot seems to be so eerie.. and the beautiful HQ screenshots I have seen posted sadly seem to not have been in the order of the music video, so with the help of videos of Harry's giant live screen circle from his tour in 2018, where a lot of parts of the Two Ghosts music video were playing, and also the leaked video part from a few days ago, i've decided to make a little plot & analysis post.

(and if someone wants to add on more analysis, please feel free to do so!)

so, in the live version it begins with an overview of this magical looking place. there's mountains, clouds, foggy valleys, trees. in the forefront, some type of red flowers are sprouting and blossoming, a yellow/orange orange butterfly wafts through the picture and a few tiny blue squared shapes/boxes float around (perhaps in some kind of formation). the land seems to be divided into a green-ish and blue-ish part; in the forefront is the rich, living, sunny grasslands with roots and lots of living things and then in the background you see the vast, barren, cold/snowy mountains in the shadowed distance. (it could also be seen as a divide between summertime and wintertime) :

-

however, the posted screenshots of the music video begin with the following stills, which never showed up on the live screen during Harry's 2018 tour. [that makes sense, though, because not just would there suddenly be 2 different Harrys on that screen, but artistically you'd want the videography design of the live back screen more atmospheric and supporting/complementing/underlining the mood and message of the song. (i've worked on a couple of these with bands before; but on a smaller scale). from my experience, just slapping the music video in there would honestly be seen as quite lazy and unimaginative.] i don't think we know which shot is the real beginning of the music video; but I tend to learn towards the landscape overview shot, just cinematography-wise.

so, now enter lovely Harry - he's wandering around the sunny, summertime landscapes, dressed in just a long, billowing white shirt/night gown. his legs are naked and he's barefoot. he's wearing his cross necklace and another longer silvery chain. there's no rings on his hands. he's just by himself as he sings and walks. the colour palette is a starkly blue and green. it looks to be bright where he is, perhaps midday. the fact that he's wearing something that can be considered sleepwear could mean his real body is asleep and he's dreaming everything that will be happening now:

-

Harry sits down. we don't know why; maybe to watch the mountains in the distance or to rest. a the tiny blue square shape seemingly floats up to him, or perhaps it's popped up from somewhere. Harry looks at it, while the sun is slowly setting in the background:

-

in the next posted shots, Harry's walking again. perhaps he's following the blue square shape that is leading him somewhere? the colours have changed to something akin to golden hour/sunset:

- in the live screen version during Harry's 2018 tour, we instead only see close-ups of the landscapes and they slowly loop themselves twice (from 0:34 until 2:03). there we see lightly tinted sunset-skies, the powerful, snowy, barren mountains cast in shadows in the distance, but also a glimpse of a butterfly fluttering along in the forefront in the bottom left corner (cut off in the screen, because of the format) and then a close-up of the summertime and butterflies (🎶); the butterflies are are pink and orange...

...in the middle there's an intermission of a close-up of a huge blue square shape at 1:05:

- then suddenly - enter the triangle/pyramid shape. we have not met that one before, not even in the overview shot at the beginning. (2:02):

..and as the shot zooms out, we realize the triangle/pyramid shape and the square shapes are floating next to each other and they're both super big and prominent now:

-

we're met with a close-up of that giant version of the blue square shape - it's layered and seems multi-faceted; boxes within boxes and they're all see-through and connected..

...and as the camera zooms down, we realize Harry is reaching up to the (his?) blue square shape (which is still floating next to the giant blue triangle). this scene is also included in the live screen version from his tour:

-

suddenly, something happens! we can't really tell unfortunately, because the source of the dark blue/violet petals(?) is unseen in all of the shots. my guess is that either one of the shapes dissolves (maybe it's on purpose that we don't know which one) or that that "storm" or swarm of petals (to me, it moves like a swarm of bees or petals blowing in a gust of wind) shoots out from somewhere in front of him, because he looked to be standing in front of some kind of cliff or slope. the vibe becomes chaotic:

-

Harry looks deeply irritated by the petals; like he didn't expect this to happen at all. he seems to be still looking towards the sky:

-

then, in the music video and also in the live screen version from his 2018 tour, the (now leaked) part of the music video starts:

a rainbow river starts flooding every nook and cranny of the land:

-

these next scenes with him in the shots are not in the live screen version. night has now fallen - or perhaps the petal storm and possible-dissolving of the shape(s) are connected to the creation of the rainbow river in the dark. Harry's not moving; he's looking around himself and taking in what's happening while everything around him floods with rainbow-coloured thicker-than-water liquid. he distinctly keeps his hands out of the rainbow, not touching it:

-

Harry's standing there like he's been rooted to the ground while the river is rising around his legs and seems to already be up to his knees. he looks like he's trying to keep his balance. his hands are still not touching the rainbow:

-

in the next shot, we see him lift something in his hand to inspect it; it looks to be some type of moss or leaves. it looks organic..

..and while he looks at it, it turns into rainbow liquid in his hand:

that scene is included in the live screen version again:

-

the next parts are again not in the live screen version. we then see Harry in a total shot, standing in the middle of the/his rainbow river and he slowly and deliberately lifts his head to look directly into the camera for the first time again since the beginning of the video. he looks very serious; he's almost staring now; challenging maybe. i feel this total shot is inviting the viewer to not just see the shot as a whole, but him as a whole; to see him wholly for who he is: someone knee deep in rainbows. one could also argue that he's in a quite vulnerable state - half-naked in just a night gown, but we know Harry has openly never connected him being naked with shame or fear - quite the opposite - so it could also mean something positive; could symbolize being at home in his body - or pride:

-

we don't know what swept him off his feet, but in the next shot, Harry is floating down rainbow river. first he lifts his head and looks a bit around, as if to ask 'What's happening?'..

[alexanderwales]

"Okay, and ... how many loops has it been?"

"Uh, I have no idea, I haven't really been counting, let me think for a second ... eight hundred years or so? So maybe in the region of ten thousand loops? That sounds about right."

"Holy shit. Holy shit. So you must have done everything. You must have seen everything. How many times have we had this conversation?"

"Just this once, actually."

"You must have read every book, you must speak every language, you must have seen the entire world."

"Look, I've gotta be honest with you, I actually got really comfortable in Pittsburgh. I go to the zoo on Mondays, Tuesday is rock climbing at the gym, and then I play a bunch of Civ 6."

"That ... you must be really good at it?"

"Oh, no, I have like a hundred thousand hours in the game and I'm still trash. It's fun though, which is the main thing."

"... it is?"

"I mean yeah, you have to enjoy life. I guess I could have learned a language or two, or picked up a skill, but ... eh."

"You've been in this loop for eight hundred years and you didn't pick up any skills?"

"Not really, no. I mean, let me think ... I went to piano practice a few times and wasn't really into it. I had a guitar for a bit, only got good enough to play Wonderwall."

"That is such a waste."

"See, I kind of understand that, and I know you well enough to know you'd say, like 'oh, I should go eat at every restaurant in the world, I should order every dish on every menu'. That's not me though. I like eating my Subway sandwiches. I like having a coffee with cream and sugar. Why change it up?"

"Variety? A sense of adventure?"

"Nah."

"Well then why are you talking to me now, revealing things after eight hundred years?"

"Oh, well, the Subway that I go to, the one next to my apartment, they always put a little too much mayo on my subs, and I can order without mayo, but I like a little mayo, so yeah, the sandwiches haven't really been quite exactly what I want. And you're good with people, so I figured maybe you could help me out? Like tell me what the right thing to say is?"

"..."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"You've been eating Subway sandwiches for eight hundred years and they've been putting too much mayo on."

"Yeah."

"..."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize, I'll help you out. Let's go."

[blooky8]

its 3:30am..... i did some.......... Gaming

no but why did you have to motivate me to play isat now of all times. its 11 pm my sleep schedule is ruined i NEED to go to bed (you didnt actually do anything but i did get motivated because of your blog so i think you should know about that😔)

you wanna play isat you wanna play isat sooooo bad you want to sacrifice your sleep schedule to play my silly little timeloop game

[thischarmingmandalorian]

A Certain Species of Turtle

Eddie Munson×Reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you're stuck at your sorority house. Your boyfriend Eddie calls and keeps you company.

Look, people. I don't know. I saw Black Christmas yesterday and that first Billy phone call really stirred something in me and I couldn't get this out of my head fast enough. I wrote this in not a lot of time, barely proofread it, take it away from me I beg you.

Warnings: Copious amounts of dirty talk, phone sex, cool turtle facts.

Rating: Very much E!

Word Count: 1.3k

Christmas Eve should have been a happy time for you - you had just finished your fall semester, your presents were bought and wrapped, and you were all packed for a trip home to Hawkins for the long break. 

Except you're still in the living room of your sorority house because the flight your parents had booked wasn't for another four days. Much cheaper to fly after Christmas, you see.

You sat in front of the fire that morning and watched your sorority sisters flit in and out of their rooms, packing their things and waiting on rides home. You were the only person in the house who didn't live less than an hour away from campus, having opted to attend an ivy-covered New England college. Throughout the day the house got quieter and quieter, until it was dinner time and you and two other girls were the only ones left.

Katie and Molly were cool, and there were worse people you could think of to spend this time with, but the reality of not being home with your friends and Eddie, the boyfriend you left back in Indiana, left you feeling pouty and not super fun to be around. They had a conversation that they had tried to loop you into, but once they realized your mind was elsewhere, they shut you out. 

After dinner the phone rang, making the three of you jump. The sorority house had far too many phones all connected to the same line - the main house phone in the living room, one in the hallway upstairs, and 4 in bedrooms. Some girls had their own phone number, but yours was connected to the main line. Katie was closest to the living room phone and picked it up, grumbling when she shouted your name into the dining room.

"It's The Moaner!"

You blush. The call is from Eddie.

Eddie was given the unfortunate nickname "The Moaner" from a phone call he made during your freshman year. He hadn't realized you didn't have your own phone line, and when one of your sorority sisters picked up, Eddie was… well, he was moaning. He was apparently really putting on a show, you were told later, the squelch of his spit-soaked palm against his cock reverberating into the receiver, his soft moans and near begs to "see you, touch you, fuck you." 

The poor girl who had picked up the phone asked just what the fuck he thought he was playing at, which sobered Eddie up real quick. His tone turned on a dime: "I'm so sorry, ma'am, I must have the wrong number. I'm looking for my girlfriend, you see, and…"

There was a calendar pinned above the phone where girls could request to reserve the line. You'd penciled your name in for that date and time, writing "Eddie Munson" and a little heart next to it. Your sorority sister rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and hollered through the house, "I've gotta an Eddie "The Moaner" Munson on the phone!" 

The nickname stuck and he'd never lived it down. 

You were expecting a call from him tonight, but it still filled you with joy to hear that he was on the line. You'd shouted to Katie that you'd take the call in your room and rushed up the stairs, nearly slamming your door shut. You slid across your silk sheets on your stomach and reached for the receiver on your side table. 

"Hey, Munson." You hope your smile is evident through the phone.

"Sweet thing…" Eddie moans. 

You chuckle, "really living up to that nickname, huh?"

Eddie laughs, "what are you wearing?"

You roll your eyes. "Nothing special. Sweatpants, band tee, the usual," you shrug.

"What band? Who you wearing?" You hear Eddie's rings clink against each other, which has you trying to picture his fingers lightly dancing down his chest, gently fisting his cock.

You roll onto your back and pull your shirt taut so you can see the graphic. The band's name is emblazoned on your chest, having been screen printed in an extremely limited merch run. You and maybe ten other people had a shirt just like it.

"Not sure you've ever heard of them, they haven't quite made it big yet, but they're really somethin'. Called Corroded Coffin."

Eddie groans loudly and you hear his head knock the air out of his pillow as it lolled back. 

You giggle. "I miss you, Eddie," you coo, pushing the hem of the t-shirt up and over the swell of your breasts, nipples pebbling as the cold air hits them.

"Miss you so much, sweet thing. Can't wait to see you. Can't wait to parade you around town and brag to everyone about my smart college girl," Eddie says, the clinking of his rings speeding up slightly, making you chuckle.

"That the only thing you can't wait to do, baby?" you chuckle.

"Not even close," he chuckles. "Can't wait to kiss you, can't wait to hold you, have your perfume stuck onto my clothes."

"Eddie…" you sigh, your free hand trailing under the waistband of your sweats, pulling your panties to the side and dragging a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal and swirling it gently around your clit.

"Not done, baby. Can't wait to get you alone. Get my hands on you, get my mouth on you."

You moan loudly into the receiver, not caring that your roommates downstairs probably heard. "Miss your mouth, Eddie."

"Yeah? Gonna let me lick it when I get you under me, baby? Gonna let me lick that pretty pink cunt?" 

Your fingers speed up on your clit and you nod feverishly despite knowing Eddie can't see you. "Gonna let you do anything you want, gotta make up for fifteen weeks away from you."

"Not gonna let you go while you're home, sweet thing. Your friends, your parents, they'll be lucky if they get ten minutes with you before you're sinking that perfect pussy down on me. Gonna waste no time fillin' you up, baby." 

You know he's close when he rambles like this, his horny stream of consciousness broken periodically by breathy moans and whimpers. "Gonna cum, Eddie?" 

"Not alone, sweet girl, gotta cum together, you close?"

You groan, cradling the phone between your ear and your shoulder to reach between your thighs and hastily shove two fingers inside your weeping pussy. You're met with no resistance, matching pace with the fingers strumming along your clit. "Close, Eddie, keep talking."

"Sweet thing," Eddie sighs, breath heaving, "did you know that there's a certain species of turtle that can fuck for three straight days?"

"Eddie, what the fuck -" you begin, confused by his sudden pivot in conversation but too far gone to slow your hands.

"Gonna break that turtle's fucking record, baby. Gonna fuck you for three straight weeks. You're gonna forget how it feels to not be full of me. Shit, sweet girl, gonna cum, please…" he rambles.

"Me too, baby, wanna hear you," you coo, vision whiting out when you hear his strangled moan of release catch in his throat. The clatter of his rings loses all rhythm and you know he's gone, shirt pulled up under his chin and cock spurting up his chest.

The image you conjure in tandem with Eddie's harsh breathing sends you over the edge, cunt clenching around your fingers as you all but scream your release, not caring at all that there are still two people downstairs. 

You both lay in bed, panting into the phone. It feels like minutes before Eddie breaks the relative silence. "Fucking love you, sweet thing."

"Love you too, Eddie. Four more days and I'm all yours."

Eddie starts to say something when Molly picks up the phone in the hallway.

"You two lovebirds almost done? I've gotta call my mom."

Ahhh! That's it! No one look at me!

@strangergraphics made that cute lil phone divider and @ali-r3n wanted to be tagged, so hi!!!

[vivian-pascal]

Like a Prayer

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: Since you last saw Joel, he's been on your mind nonstop. You just can't get him out of your head. You miss him, and sure enough he misses you. So, you both plan something and decide to play a little game. (part two to Summer Love)

warnings: age gap, teasing, f!masturbating, dancing, fluff, piv (wrap it up) hand job, lil bit of sub!joel, joel cums fast, fingering, breast play, joel's dirty mouth, bit of feelings, breeding thoughts, lap grinding, description of what reader wears, reader is on birth control, aftercare

"Ugh!" You slam your head against your bedroom door for the five thousandth time today. You just can't take it anymore. He's everywhere. The last time you saw him, you barely got to say good bye to him and you haven't seen him since.

Yes, he texts you, but that only makes it worse. He sends you the most teasing and crude messages that just make you yearn for him harder. It's been horrible, let alone for Joel.

He dreams about you almost every night. The sweet moans you let out for him, the touch of your soft fingertips on his rough body, the way you moved and whispered sighs into his ear.

He is so uncontrollably in love with you. Love? Love is something he'd never be in again. Especially with his best buds daughter, who, not to mention, is at least a good twenty years younger than him.

Your blasting 'As long as you love me' by the backstreet boys on loop and your dad keeps coming upstairs to check on you and see if you're mentally okay.

He cracks open the door and sees you with your forehead resting on the wall and your arms hanging down. "You alright honey?"

You turn your head and nod. You look back down at the ground and sigh loudly. "That doesn't sound like you're okay, sweetie." He walks over to you and turns the volume down on your radio.

You stand up and lift your head from the wall. "What are you doing?" He looks at you with confusion and a sarcastic look on his face. "Turning the volume..down?"

"No, dad, turn it back up." You cross your arms and give him a death stare. He only looks back at you and crosses his arms too. If you want to play, he'll play too. "No."

"And why not?" You quirk your eyebrow waiting for his 'good' reason on why he should turn your music down.

"Because, honey, i've been hearing that song on blast and loop, for the past, let me see." He lifts his arm up and checks his watch. "Two hours, and I can probably sing every single verse to that song. So, I think you should take a break from the music, or play a different tune."

You look at him with shock. How dare he? If he doesn't like The Backstreet Boys or that song, then he can go away. You were doing just fine with that song on blast and loop for the past two hours and he just ruined it.

"Or, I keep the song on, and keep it on blast for another two hours." You give him a sweet smile as you turn the volume back up, grab his arm and lead him to the door, pushing him out and shutting the door in his face.

You smile at your good work and go back to the spot on your wall. Listening to the lyrics and singing them in your head. Dreaming of Joel and only wishing he were here with you right now.

Just as your about to bang your head on the wall for another couple hours, your phone pings and you instantly go over and grab it. It's Joel.

Hey sugar

hi joel

Whatcha up too?

oh, you know, the usual

You set your phone down and plump onto your bed. You haven't seen Joel in so long its making you go insane. When you hear the ping from your phone, you read the message and your face goes red.

Hm, let me think, the usual, as in your knuckles deep in that sweet, creamy pussy thinking about me huh? Oh darlin'. Can't wait to just devour you whole once again, you taste so sweet f'me sugar, man you make me hard.

You slowly put your phone down, grab a pillow, and scream as loud as you possibly can. He can't make this anymore worse for you can he.

You stare at your phone as you rest your head on the pillow. You look at the message and read it over and over again. Your hand slowly tracing circles around your torso and then into the waistband of your underwear.

You circle your clit softly and sigh at the feeling. You imagine Joel as you soak in the feeling of pleasure.

You think back to when he had you pinned against the bathroom door while he shoved his face into your pussy. The feeling of his nose, his mouth, the way his tongue moved so perfectly. The scratch of his beard on your thighs. His hair, tugging it and hearing him groan into your core.

You arch your back as you begin to rub your clit faster. Sticking a finger into your pussy as you whimper at the feeling.

You just wish it were him doing this. His big, calloused hands would run along your beautiful frame, his fingers would go deep into your core and fill you up just right. He'd praise you like no other. Filling your ears with pure filth.

Your mouth goes agape as you come. Imagining Joel on top of you, resting his sweet little head on your shoulder as he pounded you to death.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You remove your hand from your panties and grab your phone.

"Sweetie?" Your dad calls from downstairs. "Yeah dad?" You open the texts from Joel and begin to type one up. "I'm going out with Todd and Jim, I'll be gone for about four hours, we're goin to a bar alright?" You smile cheekishly as you send your message. "Yeah, bye dad have fun! Love you!" You hear the door shut and you smile as fireworks go off in your head.

dads going out, come over now please

Desperate I see, I'm on my way babygirl.

You roll your eyes as you read his message. You get up and look out your window to make sure your dad is really gone. You then go out into your closet and pick your outfit.

You go with a skimpy, white dress that cuts off at the knees and a cute white bow in your hair. You smile as you twirl in the mirror.

You hear a knock on the door and immediately rush downstairs. You quickly make sure your dress looks good and fix your hair as you open the door. And there he is, in all his glory, Joel miller.

You gasp when you see him. It's been so long, too long. He smirks down at you. He's wearing his same old pair of jeans and a flannel.

"Well hello darlin'. Been quite some time." He grins as he sees your flustered state. You look him in the eyes with desperation and grab him by the collar. Pulling him into your face and smashing your lips together.

He stumbles as he walks inside with you and shuts the door. You let go of his lips and release his collar as you start to unbutton it. "Woah, woah, I didn't know you were this desperate hon, I would've come over a whole lot earlier."

You death stare him as you get on your knees and run a hand over his bulge. He groans and closes his eyes at the feeling. You throw off his flannel and unzip his jeans. He takes off his shoes and turns around to put them in the corner, when he looks back, his mouth drops.

Your there, in nothing but the sweet, little bow in your hair and your panties. His jaw tightens as he walks towards you and grabs your hips.

"Well don't you just look so yummy." You giggle as you smirks down at you. You walk over to the couch and grab his hand. He sits down with his legs wide as you sit on top of him.

You run your hands through his hair and mold your lips together. He groans into the kiss as his hands flow down to your waist. You begin to grind against his covered crotch. His hands help you with the motion and he whimpers in your mouth.

You can feel him getting harder and harder by the minute. Your grinding motions quicken as his hands pull you into him faster. "Oh yeah darlin'. Just like that." He rests his head against the back of the pillow as you run your nails along his chest.

He shivers as you get to the waistband of his boxers. Skimming your nails along the soft curls. You carry your hand downward and over his bulge.

He flinches as he watches your movements. You run your nails along his covered length. Feeling his cock through his boxers, running your nails along the veins and tip.

He lifts his hips as a plea to remove his boxers. You only giggle as you keep teasing him. "D-Darlin'" He throws his head back as you grab his shaft through his pants. He whimpers at the feeling and lifts his hips once more.

You give him mercy as you release his cock from his boxers. He groans loudly as he feels your soft hand on his dick. He throws his arms over his eyes as he feels you run your nails along his soft skin.

Precum dribbles from the tip as you circle it with your nail. You admire the way it twitches and leaks for you. You admire how Joel is so desperately trying not to grab you and rail you too death, and how he's just barely holding on because of you.

He moans loudly as you lean down and lick a stripe up his cock. "I can't-" You giggle softly. "Can't what Joel?" You position your covered pussy over his cock and begin to rub against him. His mouth opens as he sees your soaked cunt over his dick.

His thighs begin to tremble as you quicken your pace. His cock twitches and cries under your core. He throws his head back once more and groans. "I'm cumming." He speaks threw gritted teeth. "What Joel?" When you look down at your panties, you soon get your answer. "Oh."

You sit back on his thighs as you watch his cock soften. His face is a flush red as his arms cover his eyes. "Joel did you just die or something."

He lifts his arms from his face and looks down at you. His eyes soften when he sees how absolutely stunning you look right now. He sits up and brings his hand to your face and rubs circles on your cheek with his thumb.

"Probably darlin'." You roll your eyes as he smirks and grabs your hand. He stands up from the couch and picks you up. You wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you upstairs and into your room. "Wait Joel, no-" But before you can say anything else, he's in your room.

"Yes sweetheart?" You grumble as you pick stuff off your floor and throw them into your closet. "Are you seriously cleaning up before we fuck?" He stands there, in your doorway, butt as naked with his arms crossed and a look on his face that says 'you better get your ass on the bed before I make you'

You roll your eyes and throw the stuff on the floor once more. He grins as you crawl onto your bed and lie on your back. He removes your panties as he crawls up your body and kisses your nose. "Baby girl, I don't care if your room is messy."

You giggle as he kisses your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and through his hair. He deepens the kiss and groans into your mouth. He runs his hand down your body and between your legs.

He slowly circles your clit and you arch you back from the pleasure. You moan into his mouth as he runs a finger through your slit. You kiss his lips harder as he rubs your clit faster.

"Joel." You moan when he inserts a finger into your weeping hole. "I'm here baby, right here." He kisses your neck as his fingers work their magic.

You arch your back as you moan loudly. He feels your juices as you come and groans. "There ya go honey." He brings his hand up from your core and licks it clean. You stare at him with lust and tug his hair as you kiss him once more.

"Ready f'me?" You nod as he lines himself up. That's another thing you love about Joel. He's sweet and will always make sure your okay with something.

You gasp as you feel his cock seethe into you. He rocks his hips forward and you close your eyes.

He kisses along your neck and up to your lips. He groans against your mouth as he thrusts his hips faster. You arch your back as his pelvis knocks into your clit with each thrust.

He runs his hands along your body and rubs your breasts. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and latches his mouth onto your neck as you squeeze his cock.

He kisses and sucks that spot as you arch your back further off the bed. He grunts as he thrusts up and into you faster.

He can tell your close as your moans get louder and your breathing quickens. "Cmon baby, come with me."

You grab his face and collide your lips together as you come. Moaning into his mouth as you feel his thrusts get sloppier as he comes. Filling your pussy with his dripping seed.

His hips come to a stop as he rests his head against your forehead. You open your eyes and see that he's already looking at you.

You stare at his face for a bit. Looking at how beautiful he is. He looks into your eyes with love. He wants to hold you, wants to stay with you forever, he wants to love you. But he can't.

He kisses you once more before getting up and heading to the bathroom, leaving you all alone, for now.

He returns back with his shirt and a soft cloth, this feels all too familiar. Like he'll just clean you up and leave you once more.

You smile as he sits in front of you. You sit up and he taps your knee to spread your legs. Your raise as eyebrow as you do what your told.

His eyes droop as he sees the sight in front of him. Your gorgeous pussy leaking his cum. God, he wonders what you'd look like pregnant. With his baby, that he put into you. No, he shouldn't think like that, you're his best friends daughter after all.

He shakes the thoughts from his head and puts the soft rag against your core. Wiping away his hard work. He throws the rag down and into your hamper as he lifts your arm and puts his shirt on you.

You lift the fabric to your nose and sniff in. You open your eyes and look at him. Oops, you forgot he was here.

He smiles softly down at you and gets up. You follow him as he heads downstairs. He picks up his clothes and puts on his boxers. You don't want him to leave you just yet because you know that right after his shoes are on, he's out the door. So, you come up with an idea.

He pulls his jeans up and then he hears music. He turns around and sees you smiling at him with your finger in your mouth. You walk over to him.

You wrap your arms around his naked shoulders. He chuckles as you begin to sway your hips. "And what's all this darlin'?" You giggle as he steps side to side with you. "Just a little dancing." He smiles sweetly at you.

Like a Prayer by Madonna plays in the background as you both giggle and dance together. He grabs your arm and twirls you around. His hands on your hips as you sway your hips to the beat and he pulls a John Travolta move and you laugh and giggle at him.

You stare up at him as the beat begins to come to an end. You just stare into each others eyes and you want to say it so badly. Want to claw at his chest and make a hole in his heart for you. You want to scream to the whole world that you are so deeply in love with him. Joel Miller.

He stares into your soft eyes. He looks into each one. He would love to just take you back to his house and stay with you forever. He wants to hold you and kiss you and love you till the day you die. But you both know you can't and never will.

The music comes to an end and he stands with you in your empty living room, with no shirt on and his hands on your waist. He leans down and slowly kisses your lips with deep passion and love.

He's never kissed you with such tenderness. When his lips release from yours, you look up at him with tears in your eyes. He smiles down at you and brings his hands to your face. Just say it, just say it, please just say it.

He boops your nose with his finger and goes to grab his shirt but realizes you have it on.

You clear your throat and walk over to he door. He's soon behind you and tugs at the flannel your wearing. "It's alright sugar, you keep it, it's hot out anyways." He smirks at you as you shyly smile up at him.

He walks out the door and waves goodbye. "Bye Joel." You say with sadness as you close the door. You walk back up to your bedroom and shut the door, plunging your face into your pillow and crying your eyes out. You are so so so deeply in love with him and you don't know what to do anymore.

part i part ii part iii part~iiii

tags!!

@guelyury @livingonthehems @ursagittariusgirlfriend @iamsherloocked @heartpascalispunk

@pinkcrystal44 @amyispxnk @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen

@kotourasan123 @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @littlevenicebitch69 @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

@morallyinept @magpiepills @javierpenaispunk @rav3n-pascal22 @yorksgirl

@itsokbbygrl @mountainsandmayhem

[amywritesthings]

hiii! for the hallosleepover, can I get jean x reader + enemies to lovers who unintentionally wear a couple’s costume to a Halloween party? 🥺

hallo-sleepover '24!

hello, anon! thank you for sending this in. i've never written jean as a main character before, so let's see how this goes, yeah?

saving horses, matching costumes.

pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader word count: 1.1k+ warnings: halloween party mishaps, miscommunication, enemies to kinda lovers, fluffy, banter, jean is a cowboy bc of the s4 mullet i dont make the rules credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

read on ao3.

“Oh, you have to be joking.”

The complaint comes out of your mouth faster than you can stop it.

As much as you hate that your eyes lock onto Jean Kirstein every time he walks into a room (a sixth sense, if you will, after putting up with him throughout college and beyond) you’re glad it’s you who spotted him first.

You’d never hear the end of it if it’d been Sasha, who’s busy shoveling yet another candy apple in her mouth like she’s discovered the wonders of life — while dressed in a cozy yet outrageous inflatable cow costume.

Be friends! she says. 

(As fucking if.)

He likes you, but he thinks you hate him! she claims.

(False. He hated you first, so you hated him second.)

This year’s costume had been a panicked choice when Sasha reminded you of Mikasa’s costume party a mere twelve hours ago.

Scrambling through your closet before work, the outfit basically built itself: a pink hat, some old cowboy boots, jeans and a denim vest and ta-da—

A cowgirl!

To be fair, you thought Sasha changed her outfit to a silly cow to match you when you texted her the outfit a few hours before the party.

The foreboding dots, however, are connecting in real time:

Jean walks into the house with a bandana tied around his neck, a deep brown hat, a half-buttoned white shirt, and fringed chaps. 

He holds the door open, waiting for someone else.

Behind him waddles in Connie, dressed identically to Sasha as an inflatable cow. He sandwiches the puffy middle through the door before jumping out like a bursting star to greet the people mingling at the front of the house.

This?

This was an ambush.

“Whassajo?” Sasha slurs, cheeks puffed with food. She turns on a heel towards you, not in the least aware of her bulky surroundings.

But before you can answer, she recognizes the two walking through the front door, lights up and flings a hand to the sky. 

“Connie!”

Sharing the same brain cell, the man in question pauses, posing in his cow costume, before pointing at his wonder twin. He lets out a battle cry and rushes over the best an inflatable costumed-person can.

Of course that gets Jean’s attention, his eyes searching the crowd until they land on you, and the drop of his smile confronts the uncomfortable truth:

You’re the only cowgirl at the party, and as far as you can see, he’s the only cowboy.

God.

Damn.

It.

“Yoooo, you matched us!” Connie yelps, slinging a puffy arm around Sasha.

“For the record I didn’t try to, but I also didn’t know you both had matching cow costumes,” you state, trying to make it abundantly clear that this? Not your idea.

“Oh, these ol’ things were a last minute thing,” Sasha states once she’s swallowed her food, grinning ear to ear. “And they were on sale at Spirit, so—”

Jean cautiously makes his way over to your little corner of the party with his hands shoved into his jean pockets.

Either the lighting is making his face red as a tomato or he’s genuinely as embarrassed to be wearing a matching costume with you.

He mumbles a greeting, keeping his chin down.

The Monster Mash plays for the fourth time from the speakers — no doubt a takeover from Yeager, wherever he’s hiding at this party.

Connie pipes up after a minute, letting go of his partner in crime. “Where’d you get one of those, anyway? I want apples.”

“Kitchen,” Sasha states, looping her inflatable arm around his. “C’mon, to the promise land we go.”

Like clockwork, they leave.

They fucking leave you — and Jean, for that matter, because he still stands across from you with his head down and hands in his pockets. His mullet is neatly combed under the hat, stubble grown out for the occasion.

(He looks good, but you don’t have to admit it.)

“...so.” Jean speaks, though it’s barely audible. “This is a thing.”

“Yep.”

“Designed for us to get along?”

“Probably.”

“Sasha told me to go as a cowboy.”

“Probably after I told her I was going as a cowgirl.”

“At least we’re not wearing the same colored hat and stuff, right?” he tries to joke, shuffling his boot to poke at one of the plastic pumpkins lining the room. “Because that would’ve been really damn freaky.”

After acknowledging his statement with a grunt, silence meets you.

For a moment, you wonder if maybe that’s the end of the conversation.

This presumed couple’s costume will be a mere coincidence and no one will think otherwise and the night will go on its merry drunken little—

“Sorry.”

The word surprises you to the point of looking his way, but before you can, he’s already sliding closer to talk directly to you.

“Okay. Hear me out, alright?”

Your brows slide up your forehead. “Hear you… out?”

“It…”

Trailing off, Jean scrunches his nose and takes the hat off his head to smooth back his hair.

“Ah, fuck, just let me get this out one time and one time only and if it’s a shitty idea? We’ll pretend it never happened.”

“Uh—”

“What if tonight’s a truce?” he interrupts, gesturing between your denim-and-pleather-clad bodies. “Whatever beef we have with each other could be fixed or something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Jean keeps going.

“Because I don’t hate you. Connie says you think I hate you, or something, and I don’t really know why you would ever think I—”

“I thought it because you hated me… first,” you try to remind him, tilting your head in confusion. “You literally declared it freshman year in front of—”

“I didn’t actually hate you!” he whisper-shouts over the mouth, conveying his emotion without the outburst. “I didn’t. Seriously. I said some stupid shit to get Yeager off my damn back about you and I regretted it as soon as I said it—”

“What?”

“I just want a chance, okay?”

Finally, with his hands flexed before you, Jean seems to get to the point of his ramble.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second, he exhales and softens in defeat.

“One chance — to show you I’m not some sort of douchebag because I got tongue-tied years ago. I’m not that moron anymore. Just… let me get you a drink or water or something, and I’ll fix it. And if I still suck to you, then at least I’ll have said my peace.”

For what feels like ages, you simply stare at him.

He stares back as the party lights twinkle like a halo over his cowboy hat, eyes rounded and pleading.

As much as you hate to say it, you’re intrigued.

Jean’s right: it’s been years.

Why hold an arbitrary grudge if it was genuinely an accident?

“...fine,” you relent. “But just one.”

Relief floods his expression, and he sheepishly tips his hat to you. “Yes, ma’am, just one.”

[moonydustx]

To belong to you

requests | mastelist Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x F! Reader Summary: sequel of A not so funny story. In this one, we see Law dealing with a somewhat stubborn reader, while he can barely deal with his feelings. Warnings: fluffy, a little hotter at the end, violence, Law exposing his feelings (this will always be a warning for me). W/C: 3.5K a/c: tried not to take so long to produce, but I ended up getting carried away by the text. Regarding the smutty, I'm thinking about bringing it to a third part, I believe this one was too big. Hope you like.

requested by anon: ok ok now m waiting for a sequel with an overprotective-clingy-lover emo boy Law who keeps reader at his sight❣️ ~ maybe a smutty? idk just give me some more Law

Part 1 | Part 3 (NSFW)

A week, two days and a few hours.

For a week, two days and a few hours Law's sleep became scarcer - which seemed impossible - at the same time, he seemed to have found a new hobby. You.

Since the fateful day he discovered what he had done, even if unconsciously, Law had made it his duty to be your support point. At the same time, even though he dedicated himself to repairing this mistake, nightmares continued to haunt the little sleep he still had. Some days, it was as if he only revisited the afternoon he saw you hurt. In others, it was as if he was fully aware of what he had done.

You didn't complain about all that attention. Of course, the guilt was clear in his eyes and you wished you could lift such a burden from him, but Law's temperament was already known as irreducible, it was almost impossible for you to become the person who would change that.

Sleep had also left you aside that night. Maybe because you were anxious, the next morning you would be emerging on the next island and you would finally see the sunlight again. Maybe your mind kept playing tricks and unlike the nightmares that Law had, you kept having dreams that were closer and closer to him.

What you had left that night was to catch up on your studies. The small stack of books piled up next to your small green notebook while you had been sitting on one of the cafeteria benches for half an hour facing the same calculation.

"I didn't expect to find company at this hour." Law appeared at the cafeteria entrance. The same tired eyes, but the gentle tone in his voice pleased you. "Sleepless?"

"I've been in bed for a long time this week, Captain. What about you, sleepless?"

"I ended up distracted by reading. I just came to get something to eat." he walked past you, heading over to one of the counters. "Did you remember to drink your tea?"

"Perhaps." you just responded and you could hear him grumble in response. It only took a few minutes for the cup to appear in front of him. "Do I really need to take this? It's horrible!"

"It's a medicine, its function is to be horrible, but to end up curing you." surprising you, he sat next to you. Next to it, a plate with some onigiris. You just looked at Law and your horrible cup of tea. "What?"

"How can such a pretty drink, full of flowers, be so horrible?"

"Drink it." in a way, you knew that his impatient tone at that moment wasn't serious at all. "I promise to reward you."

"Saying it like that, I feel like a child." you grumbled, taking a sip of your drink and trying to avoid the disgusted look on your face. Law, unlike you, seemed to enjoy his late dinner. "Next time, please give me poison. I will die happy."

"Good girl, congratulations." he said, in a cynical tone. Even so, the words pointed to another place in your mind. "I bet it wasn't that horrible."

"Said the one who's gorging himself on onigiri." With your complaint, Law just stretched out the piece he had already taken a bite of.

Maybe your intrusive thoughts, maybe it was just the desire to get the horrible taste out of your mouth, but you accepted what he offered.

She's just taking a piece. Law's mind looped through the seconds you bit the food. The lack of sleep must be playing tricks on him, making him imagine things he shouldn't. Are your lips as soft as they seem?

"So. What are you studying?" Law's brain went blank, searching for the first random topic that crossed his mind.

"Blood. In fact, I took a calculation to do and ended up getting lost. In the book it seems so much simpler."

"Let me see." He set the plate aside and approached your notebook.

Gray eyes looked attentively at each written number and you were busy analyzing it. The smell that came from him was the same as the t-shirt you had worn that day, his eyes had clear dark circles beneath them and even though it wasn't perfectly done, the little beard he had seemed to outline his face and seemed to match the dark tone. of the small piece of his tattoo that showed.

"So…" he began, pointing to the notebook. "Here, you're taking the wrong route. To calculate this type of transfusion, first you have to base it on the patient's weight and then use this formula. See."

You were too distracted by him and he was too distracted by the silly calculation you were so lost in. When he turned to ask if you understood, the only thing he found were your eyes watching him. Just a few centimeters away, his eyes danced between yours and your lips, wondering if the action would be hasty. Maybe it wasn't ideal to take the risk.

"Nerd." You muttered, letting out a small laugh.

"Just smarter than you." he replied, pulling away a little. "Take one more."

"Thank you captain!"

The night passed faster than you expected. Accompanied by Law, you spent most of the night redoing some exercises while he helped you, or at least watched you. And even though sleep hit your body, it was hard to close your eyes and sleep after spending so much time with him.

The morning came quickly and as usual on the days you emerged, you and Bepo were standing just staring at the sun on your skin. Some other companions were already beginning to disembark.

"I found you." Law's voice brought them both out of their little sunbath. "You take care of buying food."

"Ay captain!" Bepo reached out his hand, picking up the berries.

"You." He turned around, looking at you seriously. "No running, no heavy lifting, no long walks."

"All right, boss." you saluted, just to annoy him and watched him leave, without giving much more explanation.

The afternoon passed quickly in the small village. At least in the commercial part of the village, everything seemed very busy and colorful, as well as having huge taverns that you would definitely go to.

In addition to you and Bepo, the two also dragged Clione along for the task, which wasn't enough. Despite the captain's clear warning, you managed to convince Bepo that it was just an idle worry, which ended with you carrying some bags under your back.

"Need help?" the bear climbed Polar Tang first, reaching out to you.

As soon as you appeared in the Heart Pirates captain's field of vision, you knew you were in trouble. The blue dome enveloped you and soon the weight lifted from your back. Instead, two small flowers appeared on the ground.

"It seems the two of them decided to ignore my warning." Law grumbled as you picked up the two colorful branches that were at your feet.

"My fault, there's no need to fight him." you took the lead, going to where Law was standing. Around him, in addition to the bags he had taken from you, were a few small bouquets of plants and flowers, all as colorful as the city they had just visited. "What are these?"

"Just a few missing ingredients can become medicine, tea, ointments." he bent down, plucking a small yellow flower and handing it to you. "Something tells me your favorite is this one."

"Oh, God no." the image of last night's horrible tea came to mind. you held the flower up to your nose. The sweet smell was delicious, but just remembering the taste made your stomach turn. "It's so beautiful, but so bad." you made to return it, seeing him raise his hand and deny it.

"It is not necessary."

"Thanks." you laughed, pinning the small flower to the zipper of your jumpsuit.

"Captain." two humming voices came towards you. "What do you think about going to a bar today?"

"You can go." he responded to Shachi and Penguim, who were not convinced and joined in a chorus of please. "I'm not in the mood."

"Please, Captain. The town seems nice, I bet the bars are too." you joined the other two, interceding.

You knew that Law wasn't the most sociable person in the world, but if there was something you could boast about, it was your power of persuasion - which you hadn't yet realized only worked on him.

"Okay, okay." he gave up, seeing the three of you cheer up and Bepo shouting happily in the background. "However, no alcohol for you."

"Yet?" you grumbled, but his expression already made the answer clear. Your power of persuasion wouldn't work this time.

You weren't the type to take alcohol seriously enough for it to bother you, just going to a new place would be good enough for you. As soon as night fell, you started getting ready. As much as you wanted to wear something lighter, you didn't know how comfortable you would feel showing the scar on your leg, even though it was already partially healed, it wasn't such a pretty sight. You put on pants and a simple, comfortable blouse and headed towards the bar with Ikkaku.

Law watched you from afar. Unlike most of the women there, you weren't balancing on thin heels or with a face so adorned with colors that made your real expression disappear. You were you.

He saw you sit at one of the tables with the other companions. Everyone with drinks in front of them, except you. He could use some alcohol on him to give him the courage he lacked, but he knew it would be unfair. Ignoring the judgmental looks, he ordered two glasses of juice and took them to the table, looking for a place to sit.

"No vodka?" Ikkaku looked at the cup in front of you and the cup in front of the captain. "This is new."

"I'm banned until further notice." you replied, raising your glass to toast your captain. "At least someone had compassion on me."

"So cute." Ikkaku cheered and you surreptitiously tried to elbow her. "So, I saw people playing in the background. She can play, right captain?"

"As long as she doesn't bet Polar Tang." he replied, a shy smile on his lips. As much as he didn't admit it out loud, something woke up in him when the two of you were in some way related. "I think betting a mink could make some good money." he turned to Bepo, who immediately complained.

"Never!" you stood up, placing yourself next to Ikkaku and picking up your glass. "I'll be right back, I'll take the money from some idiots." you smiled, turning your face towards your captain. A soundless thank you left your lips, as you pointed to the glass in your hands.

Law tried to disguise it, tried to ignore your presence. It was as if your body had some kind of magnet, which made it find you in the midst of so many people who crowded into that bar.

The first time he looked at you, you and Ikkaku were side by side singing something that he couldn't hear from where he was, around you some other people were singing and others were playing cards. He could see some looks that bothered him. Why did they look at you like that? Law could feel the repulsion of those men, even from a distance.

The second time, the two of you seemed to be dealing the cards. A man next to you, one of the same ones who was looking at you, seemed to whisper something in your ear that seemed to have offended you. The expression soon disappeared from your face, returning to a calm expression. At that moment, Law could feel his body tingle and had to suppress the urge to make the man's head roll off his body, even though he had no idea what he had said to you.

The third time, the only thing Law saw was your head being pushed against the table, after that he only saw red and pure hatred in front of him. The other crew members with whom he shared the table only noticed a small playing card slowly fall towards the upholstery.

This time you hadn't stolen in the game but apparently some bastard decided you were hiding some cards. You felt your head against the table and you could hear Ikkaku swear. You could easily get out of there and reach for your dagger hidden in your boot, you could also trip and see the guy hit his own head against the table. You knew you wouldn't need to do anything when you saw a blue dome appear in front of you.

Unlike the many times you had seen him fight, Law didn't use his sword or his devil fruit. His hands reached for the man, twisting his arm and slamming his head against the table, ten times harder than what had been done to yours. The other man, who was restraining Ikkaku, immediately released her.

"What happened?" he asked and you knew the question was directed at you, even though he kept pinning the man against the table.

"They thought we were stealing in the game."

"He said we would pay for what we stole from him with money or anything else we could offer." Ikkaku added, as you stood up and untied your clothes.

"The bastard likes to threaten others." Law muttered and within seconds, the man's head rolled on the table, as he screamed desperately, not understanding what had happened. Looking around, Law reached for a small knife and immediately stuck it to the side of the man's head. "Next time I see you, I won't need to use any power to rip your head off."

Law walked away, his eyes immediately searched for you. You had your back to him, checking to see if your friend had gotten hurt.

"Are you two okay?" he walked closer, searching for any signs of injury on the two of you. At that point in the fight, the entire crew was already gathered alongside.

"It's okay captain, it was just that asshole. The others tried to help us." Ikkaku explained.

"Understood." He tried to calm things down, still thinking about what that stupid guy could have done if, for some moment, you had left his sight.

"For today, that's enough." you sighed, trying to give your best smile, which with all the stress caused, seemed impossible. "I'm going back to Polar Tang. I think today's activities tired me out."

You lied, blatantly. You weren't tired, on the contrary. The whole fight, Law showing up to defend you, that had lit you up. The only question that was going through your head was where Law's anger had come from. It wasn't the first time you ended up fighting with someone in a bar and every time Law would just laugh a little or if things got out of hand, He gave a little fright to anyone who even touched his crew. Today the gray eyes that accompanied you so much appreciate you full of fury.

"I'll join you. You guys, enjoy." Law took out some berries and placed them in Ikkaku's hand. "The next rounds are on me."

Bepo made to accompany you two, but was stopped by his friends. They seemed to see the entire situation clearer than the two of you ever would.

The walk to the submarine was quiet, much quieter than you were used to. Despite the beat, your head didn't hurt besides the fact that you saw Law analyze every inch of you after the argument.

Even after entering Polar Tang, silence prevailed between the two of you, it bothered you a lot more than you tried to show. Taking much smaller steps than Law's, you tried to catch up to him before he locked himself in his room and then you'm will only see him the next morning.

"Hang on!" You tried to follow him and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he had heard you. "Captain!"

"I don't want to talk about it right now." he replied, stopping in front of his room.

"I am sorry but no." you replied and understanding that perhaps you had a discussion too serious to have there in the middle of the corridor, you just indicated the door behind him. "Let's just talk, just five minutes of your attention, okay?"

He could feel the blood boil in his veins, the words burned in Law's throat. Damn that damn bar, damn all the things that still haunted his mind. He had fallen, and fallen hard.

"I understand." you leaned the door behind you, keeping your arms crossed. "I understand all your concern, I mean, you have been carrying a burden that is not yours."

"No?" he laughed, almost cynically. "I won't apologize for that."

"What about all that at the bar?" you asked, approaching him. "About almost killing a guy over a card game."

"He was hurting you." the words came out of his mouth, bluntly.

You stopped a few centimeters away from him, watching him. You wanted to sound intimidating, you wanted to impose yourself on him, but it was him. It was the serious eyes looking down on you, the posture, the smell that emanated from him. As much as your brain tried to deny it, something in you liked - almost needed - Law to protect you.

"You know I'm not that fragile, right?" You held his arms, looking for even the slightest reaction. "I don't break so easily, if that's what makes you worry about me so much."

Law wished he had more time to plan, he wished he hadn't been as close to you as he was last week. That cat and mouse hunt between the two of you worked for a long time. It worked when he watched someone talk for too long over you and he chose to leave his jealousy aside, it worked when he watched you fight so many times and chose not to intrude, it worked when he saw your curves marked by any other clothes you wore ,except the crew's overalls, and he had to try his best not to look. It worked, sentence passed, something left aside.

"I like you." he began, the words coming out like relief from his lips. "I like you and to be honest, I don't know how to deal with it."

"Why not?"

"We are pirates, I have enemies, people who can use this to target me." he pointed to the space between the two of you. "I don't know if I can handle this, damn, I could barely hold my own against a drunk at the bar. I like you too much to risk you."

Just like the day he had seen you injured, his hands found your face, holding it as if it were the most precious thing Law had ever laid his hands on.

"I have a proposal." your hands found his, caressing them. "Here, in this room, just here it will be Law and me. Without all the worries of a captain, without all the responsibilities of a crew member, without fears. Just you and me, one belonging to the other. No one needs to know."

You wanted to say that maybe it wouldn't work and that maybe the two of you would just come out of this story more broken. You could also say that you would understand if he hated the idea. Before any words found the sound of the room, your lips were stolen by his.

None of Law's thoughts matched what he was feeling. Your lips giving way so he could taste a little of you. Your hands left his and spread out over the small gap in the open shirt he wore. Every inch of your body still seemed small for him to explore, his hands went down to your waist, almost merging his body with yours. He could stay there, in that room trapped with you for days. Damn the life of a captain, damn all the rationality he valued so much, you were more than enough.

"So…" you moved a few millimeters away from him, looking for just enough space to catch your breath.

One of his hands went up to your chin, one of his fingers running over your swollen and red lips in an almost sinful caress. How long did he wait to be like that?

One of his hands tangled in your hair, gently squeezing it so you could give him space. Law's lips - now warmer than when they first touched you - ran down your neck. You wouldn't take Law for an avid lover, but the way he held your body to his said completely the opposite.

"I accept your proposal." His low voice whispered next to your ear. His mind took him to dark places, but a little rationality still kept him lucid. "But maybe, maybe we should stop for now."

"No, we shouldn't." Serene eyes looked at him, but the malice in your words was clear.

"Yeah, we shouldn't."