#what gives you the right to hate on a guy for talking about his friend

[bedsidecakeart]

Guys I’ve got another angst date everything idea..

Tw suicidal thoughts/bad mental health/abandonment issues (maybe self harm if you squint)

Sorry if this is unproperly tagged or too long I just kind of let the river flow

Ok so the idea(s) is as follows;

The player has been struggling with there mental health their entire life, and when they received glasses it didn’t help. the realization of these ‘people’ have been watching and judging them kinda drives them crazy, they can’t cry or act out because they’re basically standing on a stage.

They make good friends with everyone, but make sure to keep everyone at a ten foot pole. (Meaning not letting them to close) they struggle with attachment issues, and general self deprecating feelings. (Dorian is one of the people that understands the player, to an extent and is one of their closest friends)

So when Skylar talks about ‘realizing objects’ they see an opportunity to get these ‘people’ out of there home. So they can kill themself. Also they have feelings of the objects not loving/caring about them and they are just using them as a meal ticket.

I think it would be fitting that the first people the realize would be, Keith, Jean loo and Tina

First Jean loo, Jean loo being first (so they can go to the bathroom without guilt) with Jean loos retaliation he basically runs off to be a crapper (note: cool rapper) but becomes a account and stops answering/receiving the players calls. The player tries to brush this aside, ‘he’s busy, and beside there’s 99+ dateables to realize anyway’

Second Tina, Tina is mean but she at least cares and is real. Right? (Wrong) with Tina’s realization the narrator literally says that she doesn’t keep in contact with the player and just goes on to live television. The player tries to brush this society and even though seeing her on TV saying third times the charm all of them couldn’t be like that. (Right?? RIGHT??)

Then the final nail in the coffin, Keith. They’ve been strong so far, yes they’ve wanted to cry and brake the glasses a handful of times, but this gets better right? Just a few unfortunate guesses with people. But Keith he reveals they’re fears, he doesn’t care or love them. They’re only a pawn in his scheme. The player is stunned, they don’t argue, they don’t shout, they don’t beg for him to stay. He leaves and there’s a few hours of silence as they slowly process everything. They sit on their bathroom floor with the mini first aid kit in their lap. Just thinking if ‘it’s’ worth it.

Eventually, they talk themselves out of it saying they didn’t want an audience so they go on their plan on trying to realize every object so the object like they always do and get what they were going to do. Of course (some) of the objects know what’s happening to some extent.

I feel like the objects that have the most awareness and care and vigilance to help would be;

Dorian (like said before he does come off and fuel closed off like the player)

Hector (Hector watches the players behavior from every room, he knows his love. I don’t think he would be able to understand why the player hates themselves as much as he hates himself because he loves the player and their every detail or ‘flaw.’) LOOK WHOS TALKING

Betty (Betty is more perceptive to the player and them and when they’re in their mood or upset #BedRotting she loves the player, you get to know a lot about a person ‘sleeping’ with them)

Mateo (similar to Betty. I almost grouped them together, but I feel like he would be able to provide some kind of therapy dog/animal thing and give the most amazing snuggles ever and maybe be able to take some weight off the shoulders. I feel like he definitely when he was younger he felt depression and/or apathy, but has sense got better, and has good coping mechanisms)

MORE ANGST maybe when the player is/was contemplating they realizing they have no one, no one to call In an emergency or to talk them down, no one to find their body. No one to read their suicide note.

I have more EVIL PLANS and EVIL THOUGHTS

Maybe…religious trauma with air fryer guy, making them avoid using the kitchen as little as possible. But yet they come back because they feel dirty and need to feel the nostalgic pain, but can’t bring themselves to be around him for too long.

Maybe…bouncing back and forth on seeing, Talking and hanging out with the hanks and totally avoiding them because they have trauma with frat guys and the player hating themselves for it because the hanks are nice and have nothing to do with ‘them’ and don’t even know.

Ok I’ll stop here I have to maybe make another post because this is getting to long. I wrote a lot at this point I might as well rev up the A03 friars and start writing like Alexander Hamilton (half joking)

(While writing Keith’s bit I went on a semi off topic rant about realization. (I decided to delete it because it was derailing) So it kind of gave me another idea for a fanfic…please release me from the shackles of this hyper fixation. Also, whenever I post these/start writing them, It’s the most horrible early time in the day and I’m sleep deprived kill me.)(Sorry if anything is misspelled or grammar out of whack im dyslexic started writing at 6 AM and now it’s almost 9 o’clock.)

[sillymusings]

summary: Spencer takes his childhood friend up on her offer to hang out during his few extra days in Vegas (pt. 2, but can be read as a standalone)

word count: 2803 words

Laughter bustled around the table in the dimly lit restaurant. Soothing jazz music sounded from speakers somewhere no one cared to look, accompanying the noises of the cutlery clacking against the plates of the well-deserved dinner celebration. The air was thick with hope after another successfully completed case.

"Oh, come on," Morgan groaned. "We're in Vegas, people! How is it that none of y'all want to go out tonight?" The FBI agent had spent the better part of ten minutes petitioning for the team to pass their last Vegas night in style. According to Morgan, that meant going as wild in the city as they could.

"No, thanks. My last night out is still too fresh," Emily shuddered.

"Oh, yeah! That was a sight to see," JJ said through a chuckle, which Emily met with a glare.

"Not a word, JJ."

"Don't be so boring, you guys," Morgan persisted. He proceeded to try each of them at the round table, hoping that he could get somebody to cave. JJ made an excuse about needing to call her boyfriend, Will, because they hadn't spoken over the last couple of days. Spencer didn't blow her cover by revealing that the two of them had actually talked every day the team had been in Vegas.

Elle had a series finale of a show that she just hated to miss. She neglected to mention that the finale had come out two years before and that she had it on loop.

Rossi tried to play it like he had left his party days behind him, but he was forgetting that the team had caught him out quite a few times in just the last month.

When it came to Hotch, he didn't sugarcoat.

"I'll be honest," he started, giving Morgan some hope. "I really don't want to go."

Hope squandered.

Finally, Morgan set his eyes on Spencer. "How about it, pretty boy?"

Spencer tilted his head, gritting his teeth. "As enthralling as that sounds... I'll pass. I was hoping to get some rest over the next few days."

Unbeknownst to Spencer, he'd just given his team a much more interesting topic to discuss than Morgan's failed wild night out.

"That's right. You have a couple more days here, don't you?" Morgan recalled, a smirk falling to his lips.

Emily leaned her crossed arms onto the table, mirroring his expression. "Yeah, how exactly are you going to spend them?"

Spencer glanced around the table, realizing that they were all looking at him like he was the easiest puzzle they had ever tried to solve.

"I'm going to...visit my mom," he stuttered.

"Is that all you're gonna do?" Elle pushed.

He let out an awkward laugh as he felt the heat creep up his face. "I'm not an unsub, guys. You can stop interrogating me."

Hotch snorted. "But you're sure acting like one."

Spencer rolled his eyes, running a hand down the back of his neck. "Not you, too."

Hotch just shrugged but didn't elaborate further. A hint of smirk remained.

Spence," JJ spoke. "Generally speaking, this wouldn't have anything to do with a certain bombshell art curator who happens to be a childhood friend and the daughter of a former teacher of yours?"

"If this is your version of generally speaking, I wouldn't want to see you get specific."

"He's deflecting," Morgan laughed. "He's serious about this date."

"It's not a date. We're just hanging out," Spencer denied. He didn't admit, even to himself, that his heart sped up a bit at the idea of going on a date with you. He didn't want to get ahead of himself and label your time together as anything you might not want, but a part of him hoped.

Like most teens, Spencer'd had a few crushes in school. However, all of them were born from illusion, from simply imagining what it would be like with those people. His crush on you, on the other hand, developed from the time you actually spent together. He had always thought you were gorgeous, but he was captivated by your charisma and your humor, too. How you didn't treat him as if his differences made him unapproachable, like everyone else did. And if your run-in at your dad's classroom was any indication, you hadn't changed much.

"Garcia says to not be nervous, be a gentleman, treat her with respect, and be your usual lovable self," Morgan read off his phone.

"You told her?" Spencer groaned, although he warmed at the words of everyone's favorite girl genius.

Morgan looked at him like he didn't understand what the problem was. "Of course I did. It was too good to keep to myself."

"Now, she's going to expect a full briefing when we get back." Spencer rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

The rest of the night went on with more jokes about the date, and before he knew it, time had rolled into the next day's afternoon.

"You called!" You cheered excitedly as you watched Spencer make his way into the building of the gallery you worked at.

"Yeah," he relaxed. Seeing the excitement on your face eased the nerves that he'd been housing since he'd put the business card you gave him to good use. Truthfully speaking, he had spent an embarrassingly long amount of time deciding whether to take up your offer to call. He couldn't decipher whether your invitation to hang out was just a pleasantry you felt the need to deal out because of the history between the two of you or if you genuinely wanted him to reach out. "Sorry, it was last-minute. I wasn't sure if you actually wanted me to call. I didn't want you to feel compelled to hang out."

"Because of how long it's been." You connected the dots. "You thought I was just being nice."

He nodded.

You reached out and gently grabbed his hand. "Spence, my stubbornness doesn't let me do anything I don't want to. I asked you to hang out because I actually wanted to hang out with you," you assured.

His smile was a marvel. Not just the kind that made you want to give one back, but the kind that made you stop and stare. "Noted."

"Besides, I hate when people talk about making plans when they don't really want to. Out of pettiness, I always insist on actually making the plans, so that they have no choice but to hang out with me."

Spencer stared in bewilderment. "You're something else."

"I've been told. Although I can never figure out if people mean it as a compliment. or not."

"Well, I do."

Warmth crept up the back of your neck. "Well, good. It would be kind of awkward right now if you didn't. So, um, shall we start making are way around the gallery?"

Spencer blinked like your words had reminded him of where the two of you were. "Yeah, the gallery. How exactly does this work?"

"Well, normally, you'd have to pay to enter, but lucky for you, you've landed the lotto of being childhood friends with one of its curators, so I made an arrangement." You raised an eyebrow. "Do you feel so special?"

"So special," he reiterated.

"Great. Let's go!"

You lead Spencer around the entire gallery, taking the time to expand on the historical and artistic backgrounds of each work beyond just the given descriptions. Out of thoroughness, Spencer made sure to read those, too.

When you realized that you had spent nearly ten minutes just talking about the brushstrokes of a particular painting, you grew a little self-conscious about how interesting it all really was for him. "Sorry, I must be boring you with all these details."

"I like hearing what you have to say," he said simply. You tried not to focus too much on how much that meant.

Your family and friends had always supported your passion for art, which you were immensely grateful for because it wasn't always the case, but sometimes they just weren't as interested in analyzing things with you. Spencer, on the other hand, engaged. He asked questions and shared what he knew. It was almost like experiencing the beauty of art for the first time again when you were talking about it with him.

When he landed on the more philosophical questions, like the matter of what constitutes art, he didn't hesitate to ask for your take. "The thing is, Spence, that art can be anything that you want it to be. It’s an experience where I, as the artist, don’t create something for you to see it my way only, but also yours. I think of it like the only time where the teacher does not make you understand but teaches you to teach yourself," you expressed. When you caught him staring at you a little longer than you thought he would, you laughed it off nervously. "What? Does that sound stupid?"

You waited for him to nod or make a joke that would feel like it was at your expense–even though you knew he would never mean it like that–but he just shook his head. "No. I thought that was a really brilliant way of putting it, actually."

Little things like that happened the whole night. You were used to people diminishing your field and stating that it wasn't valuable, but Spencer understood your view on the importance of the arts. The best part was not having to justify or convince him of it because it was his view, too.

Once you had exhausted all that the gallery had to offer as Spencer's de facto tour guide, you took him to your favorite spots for food. After a couple more hours that seemed to fly by much too quickly for either of your liking, you decided to call it a night. The two of you wandered to your apartment complex, bursting with fits of laughter as you climbed up the steps to your unit.

"I still can't believe you signed us up for an all-you-can-eat frozen yogurt competition," Spencer stated.

You frowned. "I can't believe we lost."

Your go-to froyo spot had a legendary yogurt mountain that people competed to finish. The first team to eat all their froyo won a set of coupons that they could cash in to get free orders. You and Spencer teamed up against a few other couples. You didn't know what was more unbelievable between him not noticing as you very indiscreetly signed both of your names on the participation sheet or that he ended up agreeing to do it.

You'd remembered that Spencer wasn't crazy about sharing food, so you'd requested that your mountain be split into two bowls. It was a bare-minimum kind of gesture, but Spencer appreciated it nonetheless.

"Well, I hope you had fun at least," you sighed.

"It's not the kind of thing I ever saw myself doing, but it was actually really enjoyable."

A smirk spread across your face. "Uh-huh, see? Mission accomplished. There's a lot more of that in your future if you keep hanging with me."

"I might just do that," he muttered.

You bit back a smile, honing in on your surroundings for the first time since you'd arrived on your floor. "Thank you for dropping me off at my door. Although I'm sure you only did it because you're an FBI agent trained to be extra cautious when it comes to nighttime safety."

"Well, yeah. But mostly I just wanted to spend some extra time with you."

"Oh," you mustered, taken aback by his level of honesty. "Okay."

For a moment, the two of you stood there in front of your apartment door, neither saying anything. Spencer looked around with an unassuming stare, as if taking everything in. You tried to pretend to match his curiosity, but you had lived here for years and pretty much knew every inch of the place. Inside, you were dealing with your own dramatized turmoil as the questions rushed through your mind about what today had meant for the two of you.

You bit your lip and counted down in your head like you were getting ready for the big drop on a rollercoaster. Then, you went for it. "Spence, I have something I want to ask you."

He turned back to you immediately, eyebrows furrowing at your unnerved expression as he nodded for you to go on. "What is it?"

"Okay, here goes. Maybe I'm not supposed to be saying this, but I've never quite been the queen of keeping things to myself, so I figure why start now? I also don't shut up, which I've been told is a fault, but I personally think it shows my commitment to providing comic relief and entertainment because I'm a national hero, really. Although I now realize that might sound kind of pretentious in front of a real-life FBI agent. All this to say that if I don't tell you what's on my mind, I might spontaneously combust . . . so please just bear with my forwardness and–"

"Y/N, Y/N," he soothed through a laugh. "You don't have to justify yourself. You can just tell me what's on your mind."

"Us together today... was this a date?"

"Depends," Spencer began, voice low. "Did you want it to be?"

You started to answer, but he continued before you could. "Cause I-I did. I wanted to ask."

"Why didn't you?" You breathed.

"I was nervous. Y/N, you're so incredible. You're driven, talented, funny, and outspoken. You make me think about things from a new perspective. You did when we were kids, too. I guess I just saw the girl I had a crush on a decade ago and realized that those feelings were still there under the surface. A lot to take in."

Your eyes ran over his face, not quite believing that you had heard him correctly. But you were you, and apparently, you couldn't be serious for more than two seconds. "A decade? Gosh, we're old. When did we become twenty-something year olds?"

Spencer took it in stride. He shifted and landed a micro-step closer to you. You weren't even sure he realized that he did it, but you did, acutely aware of the minimized distance between the two of you. "Actually, the twenties have been popularized as the prime of a person's lifetime. I don't believe in that, but it seems to be the prevalent opinion."

You watched him wide-eyed. Watched how knowledgeable and informative he was. How he seemed to lose himself in the things he was saying because it all meant something. . . it all mattered to him. He looked so brilliant . . . so handsome, so adorable if you were diluting the things you were feeling in that moment.

All of a sudden, you couldn't help it.

One, two, three steps.

You jumped closer, arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned up to press your lips to his. Spencer didn't move at first, but then his arms spread across your waist and he pulled himself closer to you, his lips pressing back against yours.

Pretty boy.

"I had a crush on you a decade ago, too," you admitted.

His eyes widened. "Yeah?"

Your hands lingered on his shoulders, and his on your waist. "The genius pretty boy with information on practically everything who let me rant about art to my heart's content and didn't tell me to can it when other people would've? I was hooked back then."

"And now?" He asked shyly.

You gave him a look that asked whether he was seriously asking you that. But if he needed you to be honest and bold, you would be. "If that kiss wasn't enough indication. . . nothing has changed on my side either."

The biggest smile you had seen from Spencer yet washed over his face. "So where do we go from here?"

You grinned. "I have my artistic vision. We start by going on a second date and then a third date and, well, you get the gist. We take things slow and see where this can go. What do you think? Not bad, huh?"

"Not bad at all. I see why you're such an incredible curator. You have a knack for visions."

You shrugged. "I know."

"Now, about the first part of it," he said, reaching his arms to take your hands into his. "Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow?"

Normally, this would've been the time when you tried to play things cool, but for Spencer Reid, you couldn't be bothered with nonchalance. "I really, really would!"

He laughed and leaned down to kiss you again.

You spent all of his days off together, running around the city you both grew up in.

He headed back to Quantico in much higher spirits than he could've imagined.

[easyboyrecliner]

things I am excited to experience in my drs ・₊✧

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I’ve got plenty of drs to talk about

lost boys dr :

This is the dr I am most excited to shift to and there’s a lot of things I am so excited about

Very excited to be a vampire duhhhh

Being surrounded by my close friends @briiverse and @miainbetween <3, genuinely very excited for our girl band

Getting to visit the boardwalk in person. I know I am gonna loose a lot of money there but who cares??? I’ll spend most of my time there with my friends anyway.

Food. I scripted some stores from my cr in that closed and they were so amazing. I gave bri a free review of the dip shop that closed. The dip was good. I have been mourning for a year. I am unwell.

Tasting American fun fair food??? Because what in the world is a funnel cake? How does it taste like??? Cotton candy will hate to see me coming.

America in the 80s, I love the 80s. No Cold War stuff though because…no thanks!!!

My scripted beef with David, this man is the smuggest BITCH ever and I seriously wanna put him in his place. It’s gonna give lex luthor and Superman, minus wanting to kill each other. Though we will get along, EVENTUALLY.

My family. I am a huge family person (we are literally over 100 members). I scripted some cr family members in because I love em so much. Forever the elder sister.

Meeting the lost boys, duh. That’s a given. HAVE YOU SEEN THEM??? Paul is my twin in spirit, this man channels and speaks through me more often than I would like to. He is the adhd to my autism. Dwayne is my silent knight in shining armor. We’d end up talking about books or arguing over which is better: jaguars or tigers? Love that man to death though. David…once our beef passes I’ll think we will have a decent relationship.

And Marko. My soulmate bruh. Oreo is a good shipname don’t you guys think??? He will get a post for himself. Cuz man I once thought about something and realized he would help me overcome my social anxiety. Hello? HELLO??? He is gorgeous, I can’t. I will steal his jacket, no complaints.

I literally cannot wait to meet Dwayne…and @v1lsxe…I ship it

I can’t wait to meet Star and gossip with her about the boys

Being in a girl band. And meeting all famous artists. I scripted that we are close to Metallica. I will be seen talking Danish with Lars. Hahah. And like meeting billy idol and ozzy osburne??? Hell yeah. I am very excited for the future , since we will be collaborating with Vivienne Westwood. Omg.

Meeting the frog bros. I have a soft spot for them. Edgar and Alan are very precious to me. I will nerd out with them over comics <3

Once the Emerson family comes around…meeting Michael and Sam? Michael will be my bestie, he’d be very fun to be around. Sammie is a baby :( he is such a sweet kid. I will definitely be seen with him, Edgar and Alan. They remind me of my cousins. I’ll be their cool aunt figure ig

There’s more but this is already long as is.

gravity falls dr :

I. Love. The. Pines. Family

Mabel and dipper will most likely be adopted by me and my friend group…who cares

WORKING FOR STAN PINES!!! Dude I am flipping out right now

Exploring Gravity Falls with dipper and my s/o’s eventually, it will be chaotic and funny. I’ll cherish those memories. And Gravity Falls is one of my favorite towns created, i love small towns that have the same vibes as GF.

Tasting lazy Susan’s food, I will eat those pancakes up

Eventually meeting bill cipher…I won’t know what to expect since he is a manipulative person but hey…at least he won’t know I shifted there.

Being apart of the episodes, if you know you know. Because I wanna experience that crazy shit with my comfort characters

Doing shit with Wendy’s friend group yk

Helping McGucket because he deserves the best you guys :((

stranger things dr :

Omg you got a stranger things dr?? You must love the 80s…mae you silly silly goose

Here i am Billy twin and Max’s sister. He isn’t a raging racist here, because I’d disown him on the spot. Max deserves a good sister figure, and that’s me bitch.

Eventually babysitting the party with Steve because they are precious to all of me. Dustin and Lucas are my favorites.

Lowkey excited on serving Heather Chandler at Hawkins high…

HALLOWEEN!!!

Being Hopper and Joyce’s Cupid…wink wink

Eventually working at the Starcourt mall

Falling for my s/o. I am a sucker for friends to lovers

small town dr :

Meeting my most fantastic moots who helped me work on the dr

Being a witch part 1

The vibes of that dr are chefs kiss…I won’t spoil anything yet…muahahah. Though lowkey if you know Monster Prom, our school gives that kind of vibes imo??

hogwarts dr :

It’s hogwarts, why shouldn’t I be excited to be a student at a wizarding school that basically was a big part of my childhood? I had a major hyperfixation on Harry Potter, my inner child will die happily now

Being in the twins year and being close friends with both.

Being a metamorphmagus and tonks little sister!! Yup!!mhm!!!yay!!!

Being a WITCH, part 2

Honestly meeting my comfort characters, Harry is my favorite character. Since I was a child. With Luna!!!

Experiencing the 90s

being part of hufflepuff, it’s my favorite house you guys and it’s the house that literally screams me

sons of anarchy dr :

living in charming, even though it might seem a little dangerous the town is lowkey cozy!!!

Befriending the sons because woah…juice you and me will be besties. Tig will eventually date my sister so why shouldn’t I be the one to get the relationship moving early???

Being Cupid to bri and jax

Working as a kindergarten teacher because children give me the greatest joy ever

Even though my family is small, i am very excited to meet them all. I am gonna be the best aunt to Joey

Eventually riding on a Harley Davidson.

percy jackson dr :

Ancient Greece hyperfixation goes brrr

Even though many hate on the orange chb shirt i wanna wear it…I don’t accept the slander

Having cool demigod powers and cool family members

Still a wip

a song of ice and fire dr :

Annoying Cersei. I am gonna ragebait her!!

Jokes on her Tywin LIKES me.

Being filthy rich

Serving cunt. Face card? Lethal. Clothes? Expensive and very pretty

Lowkey getting smart on politics from this…Varys and Olenna teach me your ways

Will Ned Stark die or not? who knows. It would spiral into a lot a mess and I don’t wanna see Joffrey (Satan) on the throne

red dead dr :

Running around in Victorian/early Edwardian dresses.

Seeing the country of America, rdr2 has gorgeous visuals and has bewitched me

Being apart of the Van der Linde Gang, fuck you Micah your ratty ass isn’t apart of it. Arthur and Charles my hunting partners!!! Very fun. I am gonna hang out with the girls a lot, because someone has to spoil them with nice things.

I am so ready for being Molly’s best friend, you cannot believe it. She deserves the best.

hades dr :

Meeting the entirety of the house of hades. I am so excited for being besties with Hypnos, he is my favorite cthonic god. Fun fact he appeared in my dream once. Even though I know I won’t attribute much to the house I will try my best to impress Lord Hades.

Exploring the underworld. It’s so pretty the way it’s depicted in the game. I’d find myself staring at the architecture and thinking to myself: this is unbelievably beautiful. I’ll be found wandering through Elysium and the Crossroads the most. I’ve never seen something prettier than that.

bloodborne dr :

I do believe myself to be quite insane for wanting to shift here (probably am), BUT Yharnam is one of the prettiest fictional cities I’ve ever seen. I want to see it with my very eyes

It takes place before Gehrmain gets trapped in the dream, quite excited to meet him and the original cast of hunters

My husband.

taglist: @briiverse , @miainbetween , @l22na4 , @ladigube , @ashstwr , @aliyahshiftsx x , @marcellasdiary , @v1lsxe , @killvrkvnt , @auroraisleaving , @sorenverse , @rumitome , @dracuthea , @alexsrealities , @avaslosthermind

[badkitty3000]

Accidentally In Love

Five Hargreeves x Female Reader, 10k words, one shot, reader request

Summary: You and Five are neighbors and friends. Best friends. That abruptly changes when Five catches you undressing in front of your window one night. He soon finds it's a slippery slope from a little harmless voyeurism to becoming an outright weirdo. The question is: do you mind?

❤️A friends to lovers arc❤️

Warnings: Smut, mild voyeurism (meaning it's not really that creepy), B&E (blinking and entering)

A/N: This was a special request given to me by an anon that did not feel they could write this story in full, so they handed the outline over to me. I made a few minor changes, but hopefully it's still what they were shooting for 😻

When you had first moved in, about two years ago, Five had been suspicious about what kind of neighbor he would be getting. The old couple that had lived in your house previously had been quiet and kept to themselves. Once in a while the old man would nod in Five’s direction, but that was the extent of their relationship. Which was exactly how Five liked it. 

Then the old man died and the lady sold the house. Five remembered the day you moved in. He had stood in his own small, unassuming house across the street and watched from the front window. He watched as you struggled with the unwieldy boxes and awkward furniture. It didn’t look like anyone was coming to help you and you had driven the moving van yourself. 

Five rolled his eyes and frowned, sipping at his coffee while muttering critiques to himself. When he saw you trying to drag an entire couch out of the van all by yourself, he sighed heavily. 

He had blinked directly next to you, scaring the shit out of you and making you drop the couch leg on your foot, which in turn made you scream from fright and from pain. Five had hastily lifted the furniture off of you. 

“Don’t you have any help?�� he had asked, annoyed, like it was your fault he just tried to permanently cripple you. 

As you rubbed your foot with a scowl, you shook your head. “No, I don’t. My deadbeat ex-boyfriend decided to break up with me the night before he was supposed to help me move. But thanks for giving me a heart attack while also fracturing my foot. That really helps my already stellar situation I have going on here.” 

A total smart ass, Five had thought. He liked you immediately. 

Five was the only neighbor that came to your aid that day, and you and he managed to move all of your stuff in a couple of hours. He was smart and quick-witted; snapping back with his own biting commentary whenever you would throw a sarcasm grenade his way. It was an easy rapport right from the start. 

He had you laughing, and frustrated, and swearing under your breath. Sometimes all in the span of about thirty seconds. None of that has really changed over the past couple of years. Five is your friend. Your best friend maybe, as sad as that is. He’s infuriating and unintentionally hilarious, and surprisingly sweet. He gets you and respects you, even if he frequently insults your life choices. Usually regarding men. 

You have a key to Five’s house and he has one to yours. Although, he never bothers to use his. He much prefers blinking in and out of your house, even though you have expressed your feelings about that several times. 

“What if I have a date here?” you had asked him once. “What if you blink right into the middle of me getting some action?” 

He had scoffed. “The day that happens is the day I’ll eat my own hand.” 

“You’re saying I can’t get a guy?” 

“I’m saying you can’t get a guy to stay more than ten minutes.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you had asked, offended. 

Five had tilted his head in that annoying way he does when he thinks he’s talking to some sort of lower lifeform. Dogs. Children. Morons. 

“I hate to break it to you, honey, but you have a very specific talent for scaring men away.” 

You had crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear the great Five Hargreeves’ thoughts on the matter. And don’t call me honey. You know I hate that.” 

Five had chucked. “See? Right there. You get so defensive.” 

“And you don’t?” 

“We’re not talking about me, now, are we?” 

“Look, if grown ass men can’t handle the opinions—” 

“Strong opinions,” Five butted in with a grin. 

“—of a woman, then good luck to them. I don’t need that shit. I’m not going to compromise and not speak my mind.” 

“I don’t think we’re in danger of you not speaking your mind.” 

“Five?” 

“Yes?” 

“I really hate you, you know that?” 

Five had smiled widely before crossing to the fridge and helping himself to one of your beers. “No, you don’t,” he said casually while reaching for the bottle opener. “But seeing as how I’m all you have right now, want to watch a movie?” 

With another heavy sigh and a reluctant smile, you accepted the beer Five held out to you before he grabbed another one for himself. “Yeah, sure. But I’m picking it this time. The last time you chose a documentary on planes and I thought I was going to slip into a coma.” 

“That was a very informative piece chronicling the historical significance of commercial air travel on our society as humans.” 

You stared at him, one eyebrow raised. “It’s my house and I have veto power. I’m picking.” 

Five smirked and shrugged. “Whatever you say, honey.”

This evening, Five is sitting alone at home, having finished his sad little dinner for one and contemplating going to bed early. As usual, he had kept an eye out for you from across the street. He knew you were out on another date. This time with a man you had claimed to really like. After your first date, you had come loudly barging into Five’s house, raving about how wonderful this guy was. Five had his doubts. But he had kept that to himself and said he was happy for you. 

This was the third date you two were on, and Five kept glancing out the front window, looking for signs that you were back home. He didn’t like knowing you were out with some man Five didn’t know. He had told you he thought he should meet these potential love interests before you went out with them, for safety reasons. You had looked at him like he was insane and then laughed, thinking he was kidding. He wasn’t, but he dropped the subject. 

Headlights burn through the blinds of the window as a car drives up and into your driveway. Five stands up and walks to the window, peeking out as inconspicuously as possible. It is your car and he watches as you get out, slamming the door behind you. He waits to see if anyone else is with you, but it doesn’t appear so. You stomp angrily up to your door and kick it open, slamming it shut with a loud bang that he can hear from across the street. 

Five stands there, wondering what to do. Obviously, you are upset about something, and as your friend he wants to know what. But if he goes over there right now, you’ll know he was spying on you. He decides to wait a few minutes. 

Then he picks up his phone and texts you. 

I was up and saw your car. You’re home ok? 

There is a lag of a minute or two before you answer. 

Yeah. All good. 

Five knows that’s a lie. 

Want some company? 

There is another long pause. 

Sure. 

Five grabs a bottle of your favorite vodka that he keeps in his house, even though he never drinks it himself, and walks across the street before blinking inside your house like usual. He finds you sitting in the dark, in your living room, slumped on the couch. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, setting the bottle down on an end table. “You ok?” 

You sniff and wipe at your face. “Yeah, doing great. Thanks for asking.” 

Five sits next to you and rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. What happened?” 

“Oh, you know, the usual. I did what you say I always do. I scared him away.” 

Five reaches over and clicks on the table lamp nearby. You squint into the light and he sees your face streaked with tears; your mascara leaving little black trails over your cheeks. His chest tightens. 

“What did this guy do?” he asks with a little more heat behind his words. 

You shake your head. “Nothing. I just… “You start to cry again, holding your face in your hands. “I don’t get it. Am I that annoying? I thought we had a good thing going and then out of the blue he gives me the ‘It’s not you it’s me’ bullshit. But of course it’s me!” You sob harder. “Why does this always happen, Five? Seriously, tell me. I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

Five reaches over and rubs your back. “Hey… there is nothing wrong with you. This guy is clearly a deranged asshole if he can’t see how great you are.” 

You look up. “You think I’m great?” 

Five makes his huffy, irritated expression. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.” 

You smile a little. “I’m serious, Five. This dating thing is brutal.” 

“Then why do it?” 

“Why date?” you ask, like that is the dumbest question ever posed. “I don’t know. Because I’d like to find a partner to share my life with. Someone to love. Isn’t that what most people want?”

Five pauses. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.” 

You snort indignantly. “You’re so weird.” 

Five ignores your comment. “Want a drink?” 

“God, yes.” 

Five gets up and finds glasses in your kitchen, filling one of them with ice before bringing them into the living room. He pours a generous amount of vodka into the glass with ice and hands it to you. 

“Thanks. There’s whiskey in the –” 

“I know,” he says as he walks over to the cabinet you keep the liquor in. 

He reaches down and picks up the bottle that you keep just for him. You don’t touch the stuff. Five pours his own glass and comes back over to sit next to you. He leans back on the couch, completely comfortable. He takes a sip of his drink and you take one of yours. The ice clinking in your glass is the only sound for several minutes. But that also is comfortable. 

“So, why have you never thought about it?” you ask, out of the blue. 

“About what?” 

“Settling down. Finding a special person. Being in love. All that shit.” 

Five shrugs. “It’s more like if it happens it happens. There’s no use in trying to force it.” 

You laugh quietly, your body starting to relax a little bit. “So, you think the woman of your dreams is just going to show up at your doorstep one day? Knock on your door and be like ‘Oh, hey Five, I’ve been looking for you! Want to build a life together?’” 

He scoffs. “No, idiot. But I just don’t see the point of going on all of these dating sites and trying to pick a soul mate like you’re shopping for groceries. That’s not how that works.” 

You look sadly into your glass. “Well, it might. You don’t know.” 

Five looks at you thoughtfully. “Why is it so important for you to find someone? You have a good job, a nice house, you’re independent.” He smirks. “And you have me.” 

You sigh but it turns into a breathy laugh. “Well, shit… now I’m even more depressed.” 

“Fuck you,” Five says with a chuckle. He lays his arm across the back of the couch. “Come here, crazy. I know you’re going to cry again. You can use my shirt.” 

Smiling through your fresh tears, you lean into him and he puts his arm around your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest. He gives you a small kiss on the top of your head. “You’re gonna be alright,” he tells you gently. “Somewhere out there is a man just waiting to put up with you.” 

“Promise?” you ask with a sniffle. 

“I promise.” 

Later that night, after another drink and some more easy conversation, Five says goodnight and leaves. He tells you he’ll check up on you in the morning. After he blinks out of your house, he walks across to his. Inside, he walks upstairs to his bedroom, intent on going to sleep. As he begins to close the blinds to the window that faces the street, he can’t help but look across at your place one last time. 

You have always been careful about closing your curtains at night. Five knew this because… well, because he likes to make sure no creeps can see inside your house. As a woman living alone, you really need to be aware of those things. But tonight, you seemed to have forgotten. 

Five can see you in your bedroom, your light on full blast as you walk around, no doubt getting ready for bed yourself. He sighs and reaches for his phone, intending to text you and tell you to draw your curtains. As he takes his phone out of his pocket, though, he stops. 

That vodka must have made you extra tipsy, because you don’t seem to be aware at all that you are about to give Five a private peep show. You pull your shirt over your head and throw it somewhere on the ground. Five’s mouth opens and shuts for a second, like a fish. He knows he should turn away, or shut his own blinds. But then the skirt comes off. 

Five remembers you telling him that you were going to wear your good underwear that night, just in case. It did not disappoint. Black, lacy, sheer, and miniscule. 

“Fuck,” Five whispers to himself. There’s a loud clunk as his phone hits the floor. 

You seem to stand there forever, right in the middle of the window. What are you doing, anyway? Five has no idea. And frankly, he doesn’t care. He is stunned by how beautiful you look. Of course he’s always known you were attractive. Your relationship may be platonic, but he isn’t blind. 

Now, though, he can see every curve of your body. Your perfect breasts that are enhanced and pushed up by the fancy bra you are wearing. Your ass that is barely covered by the thin material of your panties. Five has told you you had a nice butt before, just to get a rise out of you, but he wasn’t lying. And now there it was, in full view. Five audibly swallows and the sound is incredibly loud in his ears. 

He takes in a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds. When he lets it out, it is harsh and shaky. He puts a hand to the window pane and leans in closer. 

This is fucked up, he thinks. I can’t be doing this. She’s my friend. This is weird. I need to turn– oh, holy fuck, there goes the bra. 

Five’s breath quickens and he suddenly becomes very warm. He knows he is probably blushing, but there is something else happening. He is definitely getting hard. 

How could he not, though? Your tits are just out there. And they are fucking amazing. He imagines running his hand and then his tongue over your erect nipples. Biting and sucking on them. He shudders and tugs at the crotch of his pants. 

“This is insane,” he says out loud. 

He watches as you turn around so that your beautifully round ass is facing him; the black lace of your tiny panties decorating the smooth skin of your cheeks. Five lets out a tiny moan. Then you reach over to your bed and grab a t-shirt. You pull it over your head and down your body, where it reaches to the middle of your thighs. When you cross the room and turn out the light, the show comes to an end. 

Five groans, resting his forehead against the window. “Shit shit shit shit,” he curses to himself. “Why did you do that?” he asks, both to himself and you. 

He decides to ignore the fact that his dick has been awakened and focuses on the fact that he needs to go to sleep. He closes up the house, turns out all the lights. Gets a glass of water. He washes his face. Brushes his teeth. Checks his phone for any messages. Strips down to his boxers and slips into bed. He stares up at the ceiling and blinks into the darkness. 

He’s still rock hard. 

“God damn it,” he mutters. He palms his crotch for some relief. “You cannot jerk off to her. You cannot.” 

A few minutes later, as Five is breathing hard and fast, trying to find the tissue box in the dark, with a load of cum in his hand, he swears again. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help picturing blinking over to your room and doing unspeakable things to you. The image just surfaced there, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. You, moaning and writhing beneath him, chanting his name while he fucked you harder and harder into the mattress. Your tits bouncing with every thrust. 

“Great,” he breathes out, after he’s cleaned himself up as best he can. “Good job. Fucking creep.” 

Five eventually falls asleep. When he wakes the next morning, he feels even worse. He feels guilty. Like he’s violated you in some way. Later in the day, there’s a knock on the door. 

Five knows it’s you and he starts to get nervous. He tugs at the sleeves of his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He answers the door and there you are. This time dressed, of course. 

“Wanna go to lunch?” you chirp. “I’ll buy.” 

Five pauses and tries to talk but it comes out all jumbled and weird. “Buy lunch? You want now to? Eat?” 

You openly stare at him like he’s completely lost it. “You ok? Why are you so pale and sweaty? Are you sick?” 

Five gathers himself up as much as he can. He clears his throat and passes a hand down his face, wiping the thin layer of cold sweat away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just… working out. You surprised me.” 

You raise one eyebrow. “You were working out in a button-down shirt? I know that’s your go-to, but I thought even you might throw on a t-shirt sometimes.” 

Five laughs nervously. Pull yourself together! he screams internally to himself. “Yeah, I haven’t done laundry in a while. This was all I had.” 

You make a quiet humming noise, looking him over before meeting his eyes again. “So… was that a yes to lunch, or…?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Five says, finally getting his shit together. “Sounds good.” 

“Great. We can take my car.” 

“No,” Five says flatly as he locks up his door. “I’m driving.” 

You sigh. “Really? Again with the driving thing?” 

“Yes, again with the driving thing. You almost killed me last time!” 

“I did not almost kill you,” you say wearily. 

“I was about two seconds away from blinking directly out of that death trap on wheels, just to save my own skin.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” you say as Five opens the passenger door to his car to let you in. 

“And you’re a menace to society,” he tells you before shutting the door, cutting your rebuttal short. 

Five drives you to the diner you both like to frequent. The clatter of plates and silverware and “Order up’s” surround you as you walk in. You find a red vinyl-clad booth in the back and slide in across from one another. When the frazzled looking waitress brings you waters and then leaves again, you lean forward. 

“Hey, thanks for last night,” you say with a smile before taking a sip from your straw. “I know I was a mess.” 

Five leans back in his booth. “Yes, you are a mess, that’s for sure. But, you’re welcome.” 

You laugh and put your face in your hands. “Good lord, what is the matter with me? I’m acting like some doomed storybook princess that can’t function without a man to come along.” You look up at Five. “You’re right, you know.” 

“Obviously,” Five states, even though he doesn’t know what you are referring to. 

“I am successful and independent. I’m trying too hard to find this man that may or may not exist. I need to take a page from your book and just let it happen, right?” 

Five nods solemnly. “Taking my advice is always the right move.” 

“Shut up, ass,” you say with a giggle. “I’m serious. I’ve been going about this all wrong. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. And in the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy what I’ve got.” You give Five a shy smile before looking into your water glass. “And I’ve got you, so that’s pretty good already.” 

Five pretends to look surprised and leans forward. “What was that? I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say that I make your life fulfilling and joyful?” 

You roll your eyes. “Not at all what I said.” 

Five laughs and shakes his head. “Close enough.” 

The waitress comes back and you both order your usuals. A pastrami on rye with coffee for Five, and a grilled cheese with fries and a Coke for you. 

“You eat like a ten-year-old child,” Five says with a note of feigned disgust.

“And you eat like an 80-year-old man,” you bite back. 

You both smile at one another and settle into your normal routine as the old, bickering, but purely platonic, couple. 

It was happening again. Why was it happening again? Five lay there, in the dark, staring at the ceiling over his bed and wondering what you were up to. Your curtains were closed tonight; he had made sure of that (for security purposes only) before he had slid into bed. But that didn’t stop the imaginary scenarios from making their rounds through his mind again. 

God damn it, he thinks. Why did he watch you undressing before? Now that was all he could picture. Those smooth curves of your waist and hips, the way your ass tucked in tightly to the crease of your thighs. And, god, your tits were really amazing. Five considers himself a boob connoisseur, if you will, and yours were certainly at the top of all the pairs he’s ever been witness to. 

He sighs into the quiet of his room. He really does wonder what you are doing over there. Have you gone to bed yet? It was pretty late. 

Unable to help himself, Five gets up and goes to the window. Just as before, your curtains are drawn tightly. There is no light behind them, or anywhere else in the house that Five can see. He fiddles with the cord to his own blinds. He rubs at the back of his neck. He lets out a loud puff of air again. 

“Shit,” he mutters. 

The problem is, he wants to see you again. And not in a playful, friend-zone type of way. He wants to see the real you. Devoid of any mask you might wear when he’s around. He wants to know what you look like when you don't know he is watching. 

You know… like a fucking stalker. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he says out loud again before running his fingers aggressively through his hair. “You cannot do that.” 

But he can do that. He literally has the power to do it. 

Five has never blinked directly into your house from his before. He has always walked up to at least your walkway before barging in via space portal. But looking across the street now, Five runs a few numbers in his head. It was definitely doable. 

His hands flex anxiously at his sides. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he is gone. Enveloped in a flash of staticky blue light for one millisecond before appearing inside your home. He sucks in a loud breath of panic before getting his bearings in the darkness. He stands stock-still, holding his breath while he listens. 

You are in there, he can hear you. Your breaths are soft and rhythmic. Once his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can see your silhouette in your bed. You are lying on your side, legs curled up to your stomach and your head tucked down. Five smiles. He had no idea you slept like a snail or a fetus. You sigh and rustle under your covers for a moment but then you still again. 

Five slowly nears your bed. He watches your face as you sleep; your eyelashes fluttering briefly over your cheekbones. Your hair is tangled in knots around your head. A tiny bit of drool has escaped down the side of your partially open mouth. Your feet are tangled in the bedsheets, forming a weird lump under the comforter. 

You are a disaster even as you sleep, and a little zap of what feels like lightning sizzles throughout his chest. 

He doesn’t touch you or disturb you in any way. He isn’t even aroused. He just takes in all of the details he never gets to see, and it makes him realize there is a whole other side to you that he didn’t know. Like how do you choose your outfits for the day? What did you look like when you brushed your hair and put your makeup on in the bathroom mirror? What did you look like when you were engrossed in a good book, or lost in a daydream? 

Why did he want to know so badly? 

Five tears his gaze away from you and looks around the room. He has been in there a couple of times before, when you had wanted to show him a new shirt or something you had bought. But it had been quick, little visits. Now he takes his time, wandering around the room, checking out the items on your dressers and nightstands. 

There is a framed photo of some family and friends at a wedding, and an old black and white one of whom Five assumes are your grandparents. A few pieces of jewelry lie around. Some bottles of perfume and an empty water glass. Inexplicably, there is an unopened jar of olives on top of the tallest dresser. Do you like to eat olives as a midnight snack in bed? If so, Five feels slightly hurt he didn’t know that about you already. Maybe you just got distracted putting groceries away one day. He wishes he could ask you so he could laugh about it with you. 

For a very brief moment, he thinks about waking you up. But the absolute shame and fear that would come with doing that was too much. He needs to get out of there. With one last look at your sleeping face and another quick survey of your room, Five reaches over and swipes a scrunchie off your nightstand and disappears with a soft pop and swoosh of air. 

When he is back in his own room, breathing hard and trembling, he looks at the item in his hand. What was he thinking? He stole a fucking hair tie from your room? Is he insane? 

Five legitimately thinks about it for a second. Was he insane? That would explain a lot, actually.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to evict this new sickness from his mind. It doesn’t seem to work. He fidgets with the scrunchie in his hand. It’s a soft green color and he stretches it and relaxes it a couple times. There’s a single strand of your hair tangled in it and he lightly rubs it between two fingers. 

Do NOT do what you are thinking of doing, Five warns himself sternly. Too late. 

He brings the scrunchie up to his face and takes a breath. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Your scent. You’ve hugged him and leaned against his shoulder enough times that he knows what your hair smells like. 

He doesn’t do anything else with it. Just lays it gently on his nightstand, looking at it thoughtfully like it were a living creature and he wasn’t sure how to take care of it. Then he puts his head in his hands and exhales loudly. 

“Fuck,” he groans. 

One would think that after that little infringement laced with shame, there would be no more. That Five would have learned his lesson and put his voyeur days behind him. But one would be wrong. 

Despite his internal struggle between good and bad, the devil on his shoulder always seems to win out. 

He doesn’t always steal stuff, and sometimes he replaces what he takes the next night. And it is never anything gross, like panties or bras. Mostly because he is afraid of opening any drawers and potentially waking you up. But if there are little things sprinkled around your room; little things he is sure you won’t miss, he can’t help himself. 

Really, though, he just watches you sleep. Once he blinked in to find you not in bed. Then he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom down the hall and he blinked back to his house, panicked and breathing hard. 

During the day, things go on as normal. You and he hang out as friends, laughing together and busting each other’s balls. You have lunch and dinners together, trading whose place to make and eat meals at. Now that you aren’t so caught up in the dating scene, Five is becoming even more of your companion and confidant. 

Five has gotten pretty good about covering up the fact that he is blinking into your house at night while you sleep. And maybe occasionally jerking off while thinking of you. There haven't been any more private strip shows, but sometimes there will be just a small slit in the curtains and he will get a nice glimpse of your silhouette every now and then. He uses those opportunities to his full advantage. 

With his bedroom light off, he will stand by the window, palming his aching dick through the crotch of his pants until he can’t take it anymore and he finds himself hurriedly shoving his pants down around his ankles, and reaching into his boxers. He will end up with a hand braced against the window or wall, eyes shut tight, breathing hard and fast through his nose while he grunts out your name under his breath and works his cock over like his life depends on it. 

Tonight, it’s dinner and a movie at his house. Five is in charge of the chicken and salad and you are bringing the wine. He opens the door before you can knock. 

“You’re late. The fucking chicken is getting cold,” he barks, but there is very little bite behind it. 

“Nice to see you too, Five,” you say with a syrupy smile as you pat his arm and close the door behind you. “Also, fuck off. My sink got clogged up and I had to plunge it like six times before it would open up again.” 

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come over and done it,” he says with genuine concern. 

You point at yourself with your thumb. “Independent woman, remember?” You flex your biceps and grunt loudly. 

Five laughs and shakes his head. “Ok, well, the next time you don’t feel like being independent, let me know. I don’t mind reaming out your pipes.” 

What he said lands like a brick in the middle of you and then you both start laughing. Five is trying not to turn a bright shade of red, but not having much luck. 

“Oh my god,” you say in between gasping breaths. “That sounds like the beginning of a very bad porno.” 

Five gives another snort of laughter. “Well, shit, because that was going to be my movie pick for tonight.” 

You cross to a drawer of his kitchen where you know he keeps the corkscrew and start opening the wine. As you draw the cork out, you continue talking. 

“Damn, you know, I might as well watch some porn. It would be the closest I have been to a dick in months.” 

Five is reaching into the cabinet for the wine glasses, so luckily you can’t see him falter and swallow hard. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you say as you take a glass and pour the red wine halfway. You hand that one to Five and pour one for yourself. “Major dry spell going on.” 

Five nods and takes a healthy sip of the wine. “Huh.” 

You look at him oddly, since he’s not firing back any zingers. You tilt your head and take a drink. “What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Ok…” You start laughing. “Why? You want to help me out in that department, too?” 

Five can’t help it. He looks away for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough for you to notice. “How about we wait until we’re both completely desperate before we make that move, yeah?” 

You smile and nod slowly, holding up your glass in a toasting gesture. “I’ll drink to that.” 

“Cheers,” Five says as he clinks his glass with yours. He hopes the sound covers the quiet hitch in his breath. 

After the dinner of room temperature chicken and wilty salad, you settle in Five’s living room on the couch. The bottle of wine was finished an hour ago and you both have moved on to your respective preferred liquors. You sit on one end of the couch with your tumbler of vodka and soda and Five sips his whiskey from the other end. You haven’t even started up a movie yet. You’re having too much fun laughing and talking with one another. 

“Oh my god!” you exclaim drunkenly and Five frowns at the droplets of vodka that go splashing out of your glass and onto his couch cushion. “I forgot to tell you! Remember how I had that one lady come over to organize my closets?” 

Five nods. “Complete waste of money, but go on.” 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I didn’t end up hiring her. But I had her come over twice to give me estimates and after each time, guess what?” 

Five blinks slowly at you. “I couldn’t possibly guess.” 

“She stole some of my shit out of my bedroom!” 

Five chokes on his drink and he pounds his chest to get some air back in his lungs while he coughs and sputters. His eyes are watering as he looks back at you. “What?” 

“Are you ok?” 

He nods. “Yeah, yeah… I’m good,” he wheezes. 

You wait a minute until he calms down again. “So, anyway, yeah, I think she stole from me! Nothing major, just little things. Like a cheap bracelet I had on my dresser and a random pen. That’s super weird, though, right?” 

“Why do you think it was her?” 

You shrug and take another drink. “No one ever comes over except you, so…” 

Five is silent as he waits for the other shoe to drop. But instead, you get up and pour another drink for yourself. You grab Five’s whiskey bottle and bring it to the couch to fill his up, too. 

As you are sitting back down again, you see something stuffed in between the couch cushions. You tug it out and hold it up. It’s the scrunchie you misplaced a few weeks ago. 

“Hey!” you exclaim with a smile. “I’ve been looking for this!” 

Five is extremely thirsty all of a sudden and he gulps down half his glass in one swallow; the sting of the whiskey like fire down his throat. 

“Must have left it here,” he says helpfully. 

You nod and stick it in your pocket. “I usually only use that one when I put my hair up before bed, but I must have worn it over here once.” You laugh and smack Five’s knee playfully. “Unless you’ve been using it!” 

Five laughs nervously, but the large quantity of booze he’s been drinking all night is slowing his reflexes. He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Yeah, green’s not your color,” you say with a giggle. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. Then you suddenly perk up again, excited. 

“I’m hungry again! What do you have for snacks?” 

Five shrugs but leans forward so that he’s resting his elbows on his knees; his glass still grasped loosely in his hand. “I have no idea. You probably know better than me. You’re like a little rat when you come over here, hoarding all my food.” 

“I’m not a rat!” you say as you stumble off the couch and head to his kitchen. 

The cupboards start banging open and closed as you search for whatever you might be craving. 

“Five, why the hell do you have a random can of tomato sauce next to your cereal?” you yell. You start laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. 

Five smiles. “I don’t know!” he calls back. “Why do you keep a jar of olives on your dresser?” 

The house falls silent and it takes Five a minute to understand why. Then he remembers what he just said out loud. 

Fuck, he thinks. 

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just waits. 

You come into the living room, a bowl of chips in your hand. You sit heavily on the couch again and look at Five. 

“How did you know about the olives?” you ask slowly. 

Five’s open mouth and stammering of words is a dead give away that he’s about to lie. Fortunately, you are too tipsy to notice. 

“You told me,” he says with as much confidence as he can muster. “A couple weeks ago. Remember?” 

You take that in, eyeing him carefully while popping a chip in your mouth and crunching loudly. “Huh. Did I?” 

“Yeah.” 

You seem to buy the lie and you ease back into the couch again, getting comfortable while you sip your drink. Your train of thought jumps tracks a little and suddenly you are smiling over at Five while your head rests on the back of the cushion. 

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” you say with a big grin. 

Five lets out an embarrassed laugh. “You’re drunk.” 

“No no no no,” you say and you scoot closer to him. “I mean it.” Your eyes clear as you look into his and suddenly you’re not so foggy anymore. “You are my best friend, Five. I mean it. I feel safe with you.” 

Five’s thick swallow is audible and his skin feels like it’s on fire. “I’m glad,” he says, in the lamest answer ever. 

Your eyebrows draw together and he thinks maybe he hurt your feelings. He’s no good at this kind of thing. This back and forth giving of compliments and expressions of love, platonic or otherwise. It makes his chest feel tight and his stomach clench. But maybe he can try. 

“I guess you’re my best friend, too.” The words come out haltingly, like he’s never strung that sentence together before and his mouth doesn’t know how to form letters. 

You smile and lean forward and for a split second Five thinks you might try to kiss him. “I love you,” you say dreamily. Then, after seeing Five’s shocked face, you giggle and pat him on the cheek. “As a friend, dork.” 

“Ok, honey,” he snarks back, trying to disguise how flustered he is right now. 

“Don’t call me honey,” you respond with a frown that quickly disappears behind your glass as you take another sip. 

When you finish your drinks, you say your goodbyes and Five walks you to the door. He stands in the doorway to make sure you get across the street safely. You give him a short wave and a smile as you enter your house and shut the door. 

Five locks his own door and staggers up the steps to his room. On the way, he strips off his shirt and unbuckles his belt. He’s tired and loopy and angry at himself for almost giving his new little pastime away. He also feels like a giant pervert for doing it in the first place. 

Entering his bedroom, he trips a little and stubs his toe, making him swear under his breath. He searches around for the light switch on the wall and clicks it on. He sits on his bed, rubbing his foot. Then he remembers that you will be getting ready for bed in your own room. 

He can’t help it. He needs to see. 

It takes a while. Perhaps you stopped in the kitchen for some water or a snack. But, eventually, just like always, he watches as your light flicks on in your bedroom and he can see clearly inside. You are wearing that ugly, pink robe with the flamingos on it that he makes fun of you for. He expects you to come to your window to shut the curtains. You do come to the window, slowly, but you don’t touch the curtains. Instead, you turn towards Five, looking out of the window in his direction. 

Five blinks in confusion. You can’t possibly be looking at him. You must be looking at your reflection or maybe it’s just a coincidence that you turned that way. As Five is gawking and trying to figure out what is going on, he realizes that he left his light on in the room. 

The lamp is blaring bright white light all around him, illuminating him for all to see like the 4th of fucking July. And he’s standing there, gripping the side of the window, with his shirt off and his pants undone. 

Five closes his eyes and moans sadly. “Shit.” 

He’s caught. This is it. In a minute, you are going to come storming across the street, banging on his door to scream directly in his face. You’ll call him sick and disgusting. You’ll say you will never be his friend again. You’ll probably move out in the middle of the night. 

He feels a deep feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

But then… then, you start to undo the fabric belt of your robe. You let it fall off your shoulders, slipping down your arms, and onto the floor. The sight underneath has Five letting out a loud, embarrassing groan that sounds like he just got socked in the stomach. 

You could not possibly have been wearing that underneath your clothes when you were over for dinner. There’s just no way. Five saw you. You had been wearing your usual cut off shorts and t-shirt. This… outfit… that you were wearing now? He would have fucking remembered that, even if he’d caught the smallest sliver of a glimpse under your regular clothes. 

It was a nightgown. Or a negligee. Or some sort of lingerie. Five isn’t really sure on the specifics. But he definitely doesn’t give a good flying fuck what it is called, because all he knows is that it looks like it was made specifically for your body. 

It is black and lace and sheer and tight. Molded to your curves and painted onto your skin. The bodice lifts your breasts up high, with thin spaghetti straps holding it over your shoulders. The body of it comes down just to the level of your upper thigh. Five can’t be certain, but from where he stands, it appears that you don’t have on anything else underneath. 

“Fuck,” Five hisses through gritted teeth. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” 

Why are you wearing that? Five has a very sudden and very horrible thought that maybe you had called someone else to come over. Another man that you were going to fuck, right there in front of Five’s face as he watches. That is honestly the most logical explanation that he can come up with, even if you had made no mention of another man earlier in the evening. But why would you have spent the majority of the night with Five if you were just going to end it with someone else? 

Still, Five can’t make any sense of it. Instead, he just continues watching. You fluff out your hair and smooth your hands down your sides. Then it looks like you might be starting to undress out of that outfit, too. Which also doesn’t make any sense, because why would you have put it on in the first place just to take it right off again? 

Your fingers trace the lace around the low neckline, lingering over your cleavage, and then play with the tiny straps that are holding it up. Five takes all of it in; studying each miniscule movement and shimmy of your body. If there is going to be some sort of weird test on all of this later on, he wants to make sure he aces it. 

You turn around so that your beautiful ass is framed in the window like a work of art. You start to pull one of the thin straps down and then stop. You look over your shoulder in his direction. Your eyes lock with his. 

And you smile. 

Five freezes. He is gaping with his mouth open and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You pull the strap back up onto your shoulder, as if you changed your mind. Then… you beckon to him with a sexy crook of your finger in his direction. Your eyebrow raises. Like a dare. Like a Siren that is going to surely lure him to his death amongst the rocks. 

Five sucks in a loud breath and swallows, making an audible gulping noise. His hands start to shake at his sides. You are watching him, or at least he thinks you are. There is another beat of uncertainty and then you shake your head, just slightly, with another small smile. 

Five doesn’t know what the hell is going on, and maybe he’s making a terrible mistake. 

Well, fuck it. It’s been a good run. 

He holds his breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and blinks directly into your room. 

He is breathing hard and fast, his hands flexing and unflexing while his pants remain halfway open and his belt hangs down, unbuckled. He stares at you, partly terrified and partly turned on. 

You don’t scream or throw anything at him, so that’s a good sign. Rather, you stare right back at him with that same knowing smile. 

Your lingerie looks even better up close and Five licks his lips and swallows as his eyes wander up and down your body. 

“I—” Five starts to stammer. 

You take a step towards him. “It’s ok, Five. I know you’ve been watching me and blinking in here at night.” 

That panic starts crawling up his throat again. He thinks about blinking away. “I don’t… I mean…” 

You smile and get close enough to touch him. Close enough that your tits brush against his bare chest. He is at a loss for words but his hands come to rest on your waist, his fingers lightly feeling the lace of your lingerie. 

You look up at his bewildered face. “It’s ok.”

“How did you know?” he asks quietly. His hands skim your hips and he stares at your lips. 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are, mister,” you say playfully. “That sexy power of yours lights up the room, you know.” 

Five looks horrified and guilty and lustful all at once. He doesn’t deny anything. 

“Plus,” you continue. “I found all my missing stuff at your house the other day when I came over to borrow some eggs and you weren’t home. Who’s the rat now?” 

“I thought the closet lady took them,” he says with a tiny smirk. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” you tell him as you lean in even closer, your mouth hovering just over his. He sucks in a sharp breath. 

“I’m so sorry,” Five says sincerely.  

“It’s ok, Five. But why did you do it?” 

Five hesitates. “I just wanted a piece of you with me all the time. And once I had that, I wanted more.” 

“Why didn’t you just ask? I would have given it to you.” 

Five laughs. “Your scrunchie?” 

“No. All of me.” 

Five’s hand slides up your back, his fingers feeling each vertebra on your spine before settling at the nape of your neck. 

“You don’t hate me?” he asks softly. 

You shake your head. “I told you, Five. I love you.” 

He smiles. “I love you, too.” And even though it’s the first time he’s ever said that out loud before, it feels right. 

You emit a tiny squeaking noise as his mouth crashes into yours. His kisses are brutal and biting as he holds you flush to his chest, like if he lets go you’ll realize he’s the voyeuristic pervert he really is. But you kiss him back, urgently and deeply, your fingers pressing into the hard muscles of his back. 

“There’s something I need to know,” Five manages to get out between gasps of air. 

You tip your head back and he attacks your throat, his mouth eagerly sucking down the side and onto your collarbone. You whine a little in response. 

“What is it?” 

Five stops his onslaught of kisses and cups your face in both of his hands. “How the fuck did a jar of olives get in here?” he asks with the most smart-ass, yet loving grin you have ever seen. 

You laugh breathily. “Honestly? I have no idea. I wondered that myself.” 

Five snorts out a laugh, but then his smile fades and he leans in. His hands are in your hair as he kisses you again. This time, he’s not as all-consuming. His mouth is soft and his kisses are slow. You bring one hand up to the side of his face and trace the outline of his jaw with your finger tip. Then you press your palm onto his cheek. 

He draws back and looks you over, his gaze traveling down your body and back up again. He plays with the straps over your shoulders, and he lets them fall off so they hang down loosely. Then he runs his hands down your sides and around to your ass where they come to rest.

“Honey, you are killing me with this thing.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t call me honey.” 

You are squealing and then laughing as Five whooshes you through one of his portals. You find yourself landing on Five’s bed with a short bounce. He is standing over you, a cocky smirk on his face, while unzipping the fly of his pants the rest of the way. 

“Did you just kidnap me?” you ask breathlessly with a little giggle. 

“Not kidnapped. You’re free to go at any time.” Five shoves his pants down and kicks them off. He is left in his black boxer briefs. 

“My bed works perfectly well, too, you know.” 

Five climbs over you, forcing you onto your back. He presses his forehead to yours and gives you a kiss. “I like the homefield advantage.” 

You are back staring into one another’s eyes and soon the confident grin Five was wearing begins to fade. He brushes your hair back from your face. His hard cock is pressing against your inner thigh. 

Your hips automatically tilt upwards. Five grips your left hip with his right hand, squeezing it tightly. He slides his hand down your thigh and back up again, coming to rest underneath the hem of your lingerie. The action pushes the short garment up, around your hips. You aren’t wearing anything underneath, so now you are fully exposed to him. 

Your chest starts to rapidly rise and fall with anticipation. Five lowers himself to kiss you again, moving from your lips, under your jaw, and down your neck. You sigh happily, stretching out long while giving him access to everything he wants to take. 

“Remember when we said we’d only do this if we were desperate?” he asks with his lips pressed to your throat. 

“Mmm-hmmm,” you breathe out. 

Five gives you a small bite on the side of your neck. “You have no idea how desperate for you I am.” 

“Five,” you gasp as he moves to the other side and gives you a sharper bite onto your shoulder. 

The throbbing between your legs that you have felt since you first touched his bare skin with your hands is getting worse by the second. You are certain there is already a wet spot forming on Five’s comforter underneath you. His mouth moves to your chest and then between your tits, where he draws a line up the center with his tongue. Then he massages your left breast with one hand while scraping his teeth over the thin lace that covers the other. 

Your hips buck up in response and you moan his name again. He shoves the lingerie up even further, over your waist and abdomen. He kisses your stomach; long, sucking kisses that have you arching into them. While he continues to explore your body, you quickly pull the lingerie over your head and toss it somewhere to the side. Five lifts his head and smiles appreciatively. 

“By the way… did you wear that specifically to lure me over?” he asks with a smirk. 

You nod. “Obviously.” 

Five hums thoughtfully while looking your body over and trailing a finger down your side and over the crease where your hip meets your thigh. You shiver under his touch. 

“It definitely got my attention.” Five lowers himself so that his face is almost directly between your legs. He kisses one thigh and then the other. “But I really like it on my floor right now.” 

He gives you another soft kiss, right below your navel. You are breathing hard and fast, and when his tongue finally makes contact with your wet heat, your fists clench the bed covers and you cry out. 

“Fiii-ve!” you wail, your hips pushing up into his face. 

Five smiles against you but he doesn’t let up. He savors you, one torturous lap at a time, while you wriggle helplessly under him. You let out broken cries that are punctuated by nonsensical words and curses. Your back is arching off the bed and you are desperately trying not to come. When he grabs hold of your ass, holding you in place while he covers your clit with his mouth, sucking and licking like it’s the most delicious food he’s ever tasted, you quickly lose the battle. 

You come against his mouth, your juices flowing out of you as you let out a string of shuddering cries. He doesn’t stop until you are fully spent and your body has stopped spasming. When Five lifts his head, he looks absolutely debauched. Lips red and puffy, hair askew, chin shining with the steady stream of wetness that he has been drinking up. He is panting and shaking, the outline of his hard cock straining against his boxers. 

Just the sight of him that worked up over eating you out is driving you insane. He wipes at his mouth with his hand. When you gaze back at him with more lust in your eyes, he quickly sheds his underwear. 

You take a moment to appreciate his naked body. His smooth, fair skin; his lean and toned muscles; his generously sized dick that is just waiting to fuck you. He sees you looking and smiles. Then he is back on top of you with a low groan. 

Five kisses you, biting at your lips with a new ferocity. 

“Fuck,” he growls, and it’s laced with need and urgency. “I can’t…” he breaks his sentence with another unrestrained groan. “I can’t wait anymore,” he tells you like it’s a warning. 

You open your legs for him, your folds slick and still throbbing from his mouth. He sinks himself inside you, slowly and purposefully, each inch filling you up along the way. When he bottoms out, you both moan out loud and Five’s eyes fall shut for a moment. He doesn’t move. When he opens his eyes, they are glassy and a deep crease forms between them. He studies your face, his breath coming in harsh, shaking rasps. 

He whispers your name in a way he has never said it before.

When he starts to move inside you, he finds your hand and laces his fingers with yours. He presses them into the mattress, next to your head. His kisses have changed again. Now they are passionate and deep; matching the rhythm of his cock as it thrusts slowly in and out of you. 

“Oh god,” you moan. “Five.” 

“Does that feel good to you, sweetheart?” he asks you sincerely, a line of worry forming between his eyebrows. 

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. “It feels so good.” 

Five buries his face in the crook of your neck while he starts to pump faster and a little harder into you. His grip on your hand tightens and you squeeze his fingers in return. 

His cock is thrusting deep inside you, the thick shaft stretching your walls with each pass. You angle your hips so that every time he bangs into you, the sharp edge of his pubic bone hits just the right spot.

The more you moan his name and rake your free hand down his back, the harder he pounds into you. His kisses remain slow and worshipful, though. You are gasping in lungfulls of air as you cling to his body; your legs wrapped around him. Your head is filled with a beautiful, swirling fog of love and adrenaline. 

Five has never felt like this before. Like he’s both simultaneously going to explode and collapse in on himself. Your body feels like heaven underneath him and your warm, tight pussy feels like it was made just for him. He tries not to give in to his primal need to fuck you hard and fast, but it’s nearly impossible. He is being driven by desire and love and lust and all of those things that makes him want to kiss you and fuck you for all eternity. 

“Please,” he says into your shoulder. “Oh fuck, baby… please.” 

What is he even talking about? He has no idea, but the further into this haze of sweat and endorphins he gets, the harder it is for him to hold back. He wants you shaking and trembling beneath him. He needs to hear his own name vibrating against his skin while you moan into him. 

“Please, honey,” he begs hoarsely, his breath rushing over your skin. “Please, come for me. I need to feel it.” 

“Five,” you breathe out softly. “Keep fucking me… don’t ever stop… oh… FIVE!” 

As soon as your body begins to stiffen against his, Five lets go with a low, guttural moan. He curses and tightly clenches his jaw as he fills you up with his cum; his hips twitching and grinding against you. When he starts to relax, his body still covering yours, you lock eyes with one another and you both smile. He is still holding your hand and neither of you make a move to let go.  

After a minute, Five moves off of you and to the side. You are still trying to catch your breath.

“Let me go get something to clean you up with,” he says. 

When he goes to get off the bed, you put your hand out, catching his wrist. “No, stay.” 

He chuckles. “I’m only going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

You shake your head with a lazy smile. “No, don’t go. Stay right here.” 

Five doesn’t need much convincing and he settles in next to you, pulling you close to him while you lay your head on his chest. You start to relax in his arms. Five nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. You both let out a contended sigh. 

“I’d say that was long overdue,” Five says, breaking the silence.

You laugh. “Yeah, what the hell were we waiting for? That was way better than watching some lame movie.”

“Once again, my movies aren’t lame,” Five says with a grin that he is having a hard time keeping off his face.

You are quiet again for a couple of minutes and then you look up at him. “I have a confession to make,” you say, tracing his lips with your finger tips. 

“I feel like I’m the one with all the confessions to make, but ok,” Five answers. 

“So, all those dates I went on?” you begin, and you can feel his body tense. 

“Not really what I want to be talking about at this very moment,” he grumbles. 

You give him a small smile and kiss his lips, making him relax again. “They never worked out because of you.” 

Five’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?” 

“The reason I ended up chasing them away,” you tell him, “Was because all I did was talk about you.” You kiss him again, this time slipping your tongue inside, and he moans into your mouth. You pull back again. “Apparently men don’t like it when you make it obvious you’re in love with someone else.” 

A slow grin passes over Five’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this sooner?” 

“Because what if you rejected me? I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t think of one god damned scenario on the face of this earth in which I would reject you.” He thinks for a moment and he strokes your hair. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did. Watching you. Stealing. That’s some real psycho behavior; I know that. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s a little psycho,” you say with a laugh. “But, for some reason… I don’t know… I like that I make you disturbed.”

Now Five laughs. “Well, then you are in luck, honey, because you have one very disturbed man on your hands now.”

“Don’t call me hon–”

You are cut off when Five drags you on top of him and kisses you, hard, with a hand on the back of your neck. Your muffled protests and feeble attempt to get away is ignored and soon you are turning to liquid under his touch again. 

When he finally lets you up for air, he is grinning happily. “You love it when I call you honey, and you fucking know it.”

You frown and start to argue, but with the way he is looking at you, like you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, you can’t keep it up. You sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

“Knew it,” he chuckles. “Hey, just out of curiosity, how long have you been secretly in love with me?”

“Since you dropped a couch on my foot,” you answer with a smile. “How long have you been secretly in love with me?”

“Since I dropped a couch on your foot,” he tells you.

You nod, like you figured as much, and go back to kissing him. As Five loses himself to your mouth and your body and just you, he wonders why none of this is awkward. It should be, he reasons, but it isn’t. And thank god for that, because he’s not sure what he would do if he lost you as a friend or anything more.

His mind switches gears as you start to rock your hips into him. You look and feel so good on top of him and he can’t wait to see you in every position imaginable. Before he gets too far gone, though, he makes a mental note to remind you that no matter where this relationship is headed, he would still like a few private strip shows from across the street now and then. Just to keep things from getting too normal.

Tag list: @foxmuldeer @voteforevilthoughts @starlitflora @spark111333 @steamystrangerfics @sweetness-and-the-sour @little-forest-goblin @terminateaparty @fanficwriter5 @meowiemari @tuanputri-magui @jana0509 @moonkitty69 @jana0509 @fivehargreevesnumber1fan

I tagged the people I was fairly certain would be ok with it. Let me know if you are tagged and don't want to be though! Or if you would like to be tagged in future fics❤️

[discomfort-honey]

Hey!!

Could you write soft dom Sanji x chubby trans masc reader, where Sanji has a big crush on reader so much that they treat him like the nami or robin, that makes reader feel dysphoric and confronts Sanji and instead of explaining their thoughts to one another they just get freaky :)

DO YOU? Sanji x FTM Reader

HI HELLO im. im so sorry this is so late..... please dont execute me.....

i took like a small break cause of a bunch of different reasons but im back.... i wrote like 3 fics and was out... my bad guys

this one was fun! and unlike anything ive ever written, so i hope i got the vibes right! i hate my transgender friend read this over as a just in case so. i hope its to your liking, anon!

Summary: Sanji keeps treating you how he treats the ladies, and its starting to get on your nerves. you decide to confront him.

Warnings: SMUT MDNI/18+/// make-outs/ dry humping/ talks about gender/ reader feeling uncomfortable with how theyre treated/ happy ending/ misunderstandings/ not proofread

you're sitting on the bench under the orange tree this evening, enjoying your tea while looking out to the sea. it was a nice quiet time you enjoyed, time away from the heat and stress of battle, and your rambunctious crew. as much as you loved them, they could be… a lot.

"Y/N!!" you heard your name being called in that drawn-out, sing-songy voice. that melodic, honey-soaked, hot voice- you shake your head away from those thoughts, and turned towards the man calling out for you

"yeah?" you responded, not giving into the temptation to be cute with him. stay strong, soldier.

"I thought you might want something sweet with your tea!" he hands you a little cake on a plate. how sweet, it's your favorite flavor.

but you felt weird.

not bad, per se, but odd. like this bubble was in your gut that you couldn't exactly get rid of.

and you know it stems from sanji. which is upsetting, since you like him so much. but he's trying, you know he is. but it doesn't help the fact that you feel weird.

you've never not been out to the crew. ever since they met you, you made your gender clear to them. telling the whole crew you're a man. it was scary, telling these people you so desperately wanted the approval of the one thing you felt made you different.

but luffy being luffy, accepted you wholeheartedly. honestly, you're not sure if he understood what you said, but he loves you either way. and the whole crew accepts you too. nami and robin don't let you into their room, zoro enjoys sharing a beer with you, franky and usopp will ask for help with their inventions and trinkets, everyone fully understands you.

except sanji. well, it's not that he doesn't accept you, I mean, he uses the correct pronouns, but he's…. weird about it.

at first, he just didn't understand. he would question you as to why someone would ever want to be a man, I mean, how could they when women are just so incredible? you mentioned that maybe he should try being a woman, but he got flustered and left, not mentioning it again. so that's���. a conversation for another day.

you blink, his bright smile pulling you back into the present

"oh, thanks" you give him a tight-lipped smile. his attentiveness made you uneasy. like even though he accepts you as a man, he still treats you as though you were a woman. you swallowed down the lump in your throat with a sip of tea.

you noticed he went silent, and turned to see he had sat himself beside you on the bench.

"what's up?" you ask, stuffing a bite of cake in your mouth. his smile grew at your audible enjoyment of the delicious food.

"I just wanted to know your feelings on my new recipe" it was like you could see the hearts in his eyes.

"its really good" you smile, swallowing the bite. you silently wished you could just accept his affections.

sometimes, when you find yourself feeling particularly lonely, you let yourself believe he accepts you. you let yourself think that he sees you as a man, and still wants to pamper you. with his adoring words his strong hands and his-

once again, you find yourself being pulled back into the present by his unmoving gaze

"is there anything else?" you ask, feeling like his eyes are boring into your soul.

"oh! no- sorry, my love, I'll go" he stands awkwardly, shuffling away. it would be cute, if you weren't so focused on his words.

'My Love' was a phrase you heard him use a lot. only with three people, though. he called Nami and Robin "my love" on many different occasions. ever since you'd known them, he'd use every pet name in the book for them. but with you, it was a much more recent development.

for about a month now, Sanji has been crushing on you. he's been using pet names with you, feeding you more things you like, letting you try new recipes, he's been doting over you and everything you do.

and you want to be excited, you really do, but you feel like you cant let yourself. I mean, you know he's only doing it because he views you as a girl. his recent obsession with you only stems from being rejected by nami and robin over and over again. I mean, if you weren't here, you're sure he would project onto the next woman he sees, then the next.

you notice that while you were lost in thought, the sun had gone down. and you'd finished your cake and tea.

you glance over, seeing the kitchen light was still on. most people aren't even on the deck anymore. you stand, stretching out and making your way to the kitchen.

you just need to talk to him, you tell yourself. you need to set a boundary. tell him if he doesn't respect you, he needs to do something about it. mhm, yep, good plan.

you walk into the kitchen, seeing sanji and robin talking. she turns to the sound of the door opening

"oh-sorry, I can come back-"

"don't worry about it," she interrupts you, "I was just on my way out" she smiles as she passes you. she gives you a wink. huh, odd….

"what can I do for you, my love?" sanji asks as you set you plate and cup in the sink

"uh, I actually wanted to talk…" you begin to feel your chest get heavy, and the bubble in your stomach grows. why was this so hard? you're a strong, confident man. you've been through hell and back with this crew. you should be able to talk to sanji. i mean, he's just sanji! he's a kind, respectful, handsome, strong-

fuck, getting off topic.

you turn around to face him, the nerves evident on your face.

he gives you a questioning look. he leans on the counter across from you, crossing his arms. he has that 'I'll listen to anything you have to say' look. it makes your heart grow.

"what's wrong, mon amour?" he sounds genuinely concerned.

"uh, well," you bite your lip, moving your sleeves up your arms in an attempt to cool yourself off.

its not working

"do you- uhm, well, fuck," you can feel the bubble growing, like it was pushing all your feelings to the surface. "I'm not a woman."

wow. okay, thanks captain obvious. you visibly cringe at the odd choice of phrasing.

"uhm, I know," he sounds, and looks, confused. he shifts to be standing "what brought this on? are you- are you feeling okay?" his twirly brow quirks in worry.

"I'm fine, it's just," okay, now or never- "I feel like you still think I am. like, even though I've never been a girl to you, you still treat me like one, and I appreciate you using my correct pronouns, but, man, you gotta stop treating me like I'm a delicate little flower because I'm not and you cant call me all these pet names cause I'm not a girl and-"

you stop, his face cutting you off.

he's looking at you like you're stupid. and it pisses you off.

"what?" it comes out more spiteful than you meant it.

"you think I do all those things because I think you're a woman?" he sounds exasperated. like he can't believe his ears

"well, its not like you treat zoro like this" you bite back. he chooses to ignore the mention of that mosshead.

he sighs, and rubs his temples. you feel like you messed up. did you misread his intentions? fuck, now you look like an idiot as he lights up his cigarette.

"I apologize, mon doux. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable" you feel the bubble start to shrink just from those few words "but truthfully, I don't do those things because I think you're a woman. in fact, I am very aware you are a man" he blushes as he admits that last bit, suddenly looking nervous.

"wait, what? then why do you do it?" you cant wrap your head around why this womanizing, beautiful Frenchman would ever be so attentive to you if he doesn't-

oh.

ooohhhhhhh

oh…

he can see the realization on your face. and his blush deepens.

"do you-"

"I do"

you feel like you should say something more. like you should resolve this misunderstanding. there seems to be some emotions stirring within you that have been left unsaid, but as you stare into the one deep blue eye you can see, his brow quirking as you step closer, you cant quite find the words.

his enticing pink lips lure you in, every step you take, he matches until you stand right before each other, chests almost pressed together.

"do you-" sanji begins to speak. he was probably going ask some silly question about how you feel about him, but you answer any question he could have by pulling him down by the tie, and smashing your lips against his.

kissing sanji felt like a dream. as soon as he registered what was happening, he repositioned himself. he presses his front into you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. his soft lips part, his tongue licking your bottom lip, asking permission. permission you were more than happy to give.

they probably call it 'French kissing' because of sanji, honestly.

your knees almost buckle at the feeling of his tongue pressing against yours, and a low groan escapes your lips. he lets out a high pitched moan at the sound. cute.

you push him until his but hits the counter, his strong arms wrap around you. he breaks the kiss to turn you around, and lifts you to sit on the edge of the counter.

you breath deeply, the kiss leaving you dizzy.

"are you alright?" you asks sweetly, but he has a telling smirk on his face.

"whats that look for?" you ask, pulling him closer by his belt buckle. he bites his lip.

"im just glad you finally noticed how ive felt… you, mon doux, are the most handsome man i have ever seen" he confesses, his hand creeping up to hold your cheek gently. you swear you can see the hearts in his eyes.

"i think youre real handsome too, yknow" you say, running your hands along his shoulders. he blushes deeply, stuttering out a sort of 'thank you'.

you both have run out of things to say at this point, the tension between you rising. you swear the temperature in the room has gone up. you pull him into another kiss, his surprised squeak making you smirk into his lips.

he leans into you, and you can feel the bulge in his tight dress pants pressing against yourself. the feeling making you moan into his mouth.

he pulls back with a pant

"you-you feel so good-" you cut him off with another kiss. you feel like that will be a common thing in this newfound relationship.

his hips begin to press against yours in a rhythm. for someone like him, he was surprisingly good at this. youd expected him to have almost no experience, but you suppose he couldn't have struck out every time he hit on people.

anyhow, you mentally shake away those thoughts, focusing on him.

his dick strains against his pants, and he has to break the kiss again to take in a breath.

"you- oh, dieu," he whines, his head falling in the crook of your neck.

hes rubbing against you in all the right ways, the feeling of his strong arms and toned body trapping you against the counter only adds the heat building up. you quickly lean back, stripping off your shirt. before saji can ogle you too much, much to his chagrin, you pull him back against you.

he moans loudly when you grip his ass, and begin to kiss down his neck. you lead his hips, the sensations growing all at once.

"oh, mon doux, i-i am- oh, god, im going to-"

"fuck, sanji- me too" you moan against his lips, the intimacy of holding him so close, but not kissing, for some odd reason, is what sends you over the edge. your body tenses as you groan with your release.

sanji is in a very similar state, he bites his lip to stifle his moan, just so he can hear you better. his hips stutter to a stop, and youre both left breathless and panting against each others shoulders.

you can feel both of your releases seeping through your clothes.

"sanji?"

"yes, my love?"

"can we take a shower?"

"of course, my love! oh- on one condition"

"uh, sure?"

"go on a date with me?"

[queen-of-gotham]

What if the BlueLock boys were in Gotham City?? Babe, let me tell you.

Featuring: Isagi, Bachira, Shido, Kunigami, Nagi, Reo, and Chigiri.

Notes from the Batcave: this is for ✨this✨ request and let me tell you I’ve never been so excited to write something in my life. 🤣 Batman and Gotham City was my first love. (Hence my username.) thank you for this one, anon. ❤️ it was so much fun. Scratched something good in my brain. 🙂‍↕️

Yoichi Isagi

Isagi would likely grow up in one of Gotham’s grittier but not completely hopeless neighborhoods… think Park Row or Otisburg. The kind of area where kids have to outwit more than outrun the dangers. He’d be a street-smart, ultra-observant teen who never had power or status, but made up for it with strategy, adaptability, and vision. Hes the brain in the back of the group who never throws the first punch, but always wins the fight.

He becomes that guy in the neighborhood who knows everything. Not in a “snitch” way, more like a tactician, a broker of knowledge. You need to know what corners are safe, what gangs are moving, or which fences are taking stolen goods this week? Isagi knows. He’s a nobody with main character eyes, always watching. Always mapping out his next move like a chessboard, but with alleyways and safehouses, because this is Gotham.

Meguru Bachira

Bachira grows up in Gotham’s ugliest cracks, somewhere like The Narrows or a crumbling, forgotten district ruled by gang turf wars and bad wiring. But while most kids break under Gotham’s madness, Bachira becomes a part of it. Not in a tragic way though, in an embracing the chaos and painting it with fingerpaint way.

He’s the kid talking to himself in class, giggling at crime scenes, and weaving stories about the “monster” in his head like it’s a beloved friend. His classmates take bets on how long before he joins some goons gang under the Joker or Scarecrow.

He’s a street artist, an urban ghost, and a chaotic-good trickster all rolled into one. He leaves weird murals behind after turf fights (“was that a warning or a love letter??”), vanishes off rooftops, and might just steal your wallet and leave you a handmade origami flower in its place.

Everyone thinks he’s fucked in the head, and he is. But underneath all that unpredictability is lethal intuition and sharp reflexes.

Seishiro Nagi

Probably squatting in a luxury apartment’s top floor that’s half-collapsed after a Joker gas bombing. Electricity? Patchy. Plumbing? Don’t ask. But the view’s good, and no one bothers him. It’s quiet. Ish. Choki is still living in a windowsill.

He survives by doing the bare minimum, with lethal precision. Nagi in Gotham doesn’t try, he just exists in a state of passive dominance. You try to rob him? He dodges without looking. You try to intimidate him? He yawns mid-threat and taps you in the throat like “ugh, shut up already.”

He does not chase trouble, but trouble comes crawling to him like a moth to a flame. He’s too good, and Gotham hates that.

He’s apolitical. He doesn’t care about crime rings or justice or who’s running the Iceberg Lounge. He just wants his peace and quiet, his takeout noodles, and his cheap phone games.

Lowkey, I think because of his size and skill people do start whispering about which vigilante he is and people start adding him to the butt comparison charts.

Rensuke Kunigami

Kunigami is that rare Gothamite: someone still trying to be good in a place where goodness gets you killed. But he’s not naive. He’s just too damn righteous to give in.

He’s what happens when you mix a golden-age comic book hero with Gotham’s grit.

Born and raised in Crime Alley, he’s the son of a failed firefighter or maybe an ex-cop who tried to stand up to the mob and got buried for it. That stuck with him. Burned into him like a brand.

He watched his dad die doing the right thing, and instead of learning fear like most Gotham kids, he learned defiance.

Now he trains. He fights. He breaks bones in alleys to protect people who still have hope. Gotham tried to harden him, and it did, but it couldn’t take away that fire in his chest. He’s a vigilante without a title or name. Just a guy in a hoodie.

Reo Mikage

Reo in Gotham is exactly what you think, heir to the Mikage Global dynasty (which definitely has Gotham’s tech, real estate, and finance industries in a chokehold). The Mikage name is old money. Reo is the new face. The one on magazine covers. The one who still shows up to elite prep school in designer clothes, charm, and ridiculous levels of ambition.

Hes 1000% that annoyingly flawless student at Gotham Academy. Definitely captain of the fencing team.

Hangs out with Tim Drake and Duke Thomas because his dad is rubbing elbows with their dad, Bruce Wayne. They had a formal dinner together last Tuesday.

Ryusei Shidou

Shido is pure chaos, born into a city designed to break people, and he fucking thrives in it.

Raised in one of Gotham’s nastiest districts, Burnley, or maybe Crime Alley itself, Shidou is that terrifying urban legend kids whisper about in locker rooms, “You know that guy who got expelled for breaking someone’s nose with a smile on his face?”

“Nah, he bit a guy. Like, literally.”

He’s a problem. But he’s also a prodigy. A brutal, gleaming, charismatic, absolutely unhinged weapon of a person.

If Batman doesn’t snatch him up I fear the joker would 😩

Real talk, I actually think Jason Todd would be a fun dynamic to reign in Shidous crazy. Like Shido is in an alleyway one day fighting someone and he gets shot at (think a warning shot, not for harm) by Red Hood, “Get your shit together. Stop fighting in Alleyways.” And Shidou is suddenly like 😍😍😍 “Yes sirrrrrr.” And following him around like a psychotic puppy.

Hyoma Chigiri

Chigiri Hyoma is not a vigilante. Not a villain. Not a masked anything. He’s literally just trying to live his life in a city that is feral 25/8.

He works at a quiet physical therapy clinic or maybe a niche rooftop greenhouse café in Gotham Heights. He drinks herbal tea, listens to classical music, and wears the same three sleek outfits in rotation. People think he’s in a gang. He’s not. He just has a face and lives in this damn city. 😩

✨join the taglist✨

Taglist: @ninaceylan @jeko1 @irethepotato

⚽️BlueLock Masterlist⚽️ 🪺DC Comics Masterlist🪺

🦇Return to the Batcave🦇

[rosefantasy77]

I neeeed enemies to lovers smut for malachi pleaseee

Bigger Flames

—Summary: You and Malachi have always hated each other, but things change when you go to a big party

—Warnings: moderate fighting, language, angst, sex from behind, smut, fingering, p n v sex,can be rough sex in a readers pov, unprotected sex, enemies to lovers trope

—Song: I Hate Myself For Loving You; Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Parties weren't your thing. Especially when he is there. You couldn't stand him. He has always been your enemy.

Ever since you were 14. You two have hated each other. It's so much more than hate. The feeling can't be described. That's how much you hate each other.

You wanted to go to this party. You did. You wanted to change. For you. Not him. Just you.

Back up. Ever since the beginning of 8th grade, you have always hated Malachi. And he has always hated you. It started with Malachi.

It was based on a English test. You went around the classroom. Showing off how amazing and great you did. Now you weren't trying to be a pain in the ass.

Malachi?

You were more than a pain in the ass. It was to the point where he wanted to kill you. It wasn't just there. It was almost in every class.

You had a friendly personality. Everyone knew that too. You were like the star kid. Especially when you took theater and choir. You had an amazing voice.

Everyone loved hanging with you. They would asking you for singing advice. Even how it's like being in choir. Same with theater. Everyone wants to be next to you.

Not for Malachi though. He doesn't wanna be anywhere near you. He wants to be far away. But, you have tried to talk to him. Many times.

Highschool was a bomb. You had many projects to do together. But, Malachi would disclaim you every chance he could.

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't understand. You felt like it was something towards you. So you changed and stopped.

You stopped doing the things you used to do. Like hangout with people. Quit the the things you love. It broke your heart.

Worse part is, your parents were worried about you. You didn't know what to say. You quit everything just because of Malachi. It doesn't make sense.

Why would you quit something because of Malachi?

That is a very good point. You shouldn't quit something because of a guy. You should be you. Just like everyone is. You do you.

That's what you're doing now. You've always known Malachi is an actor. That's why he was barely in class in 6th and 7th grade. Then he was with you most of high school.

You found out by a friend that he is going somewhere. And thank the Lord. That makes you happier than ever. You were so hyped up for the party.

Friends were gonna be there. Hot guys were gonna be there. And best part is....

Malachi won't be there. You will finally get to have your own freedom. Just you, friends, and boys to hook up on.

You decided to wear a short mini pink dress. It only went up to the top of your thighs. Ass cheeks were hanging out. Breast were suffering. All you needed was someone to help them with.

Every guy was looking at you. Head to toe. They were checking you out. You were always twirling your hair. Looking at them, giving your best princess eyes.

At the same time, a certain pair of eyes were on you. You didn't understand it. Who would be looking at you? It just didn't feel right. It felt weird. Most of all, uneasy.

It felt like he was looking at you. Like he used to in science. His eyes following yours. Trying to look up your short skirt. That's what it felt like. That's probably what it is.

Did you mind it? Not really no. In the past, you've liked him. But ever since that encounter in 8th grade, it's been gone. It's never been back. And it never has.

Or so you thought.

All you could do was shake it out. It doesn't matter. You just need to let it go. It's only you and your friends.

There was this really cute guy. Blonde hair. Cute smile. And beautiful green eyes. He seemed like a sweet boy. Taking his hand, he led you up to the closest bedroom he could find.

Then it hit. Those eyes were on you. It's like they were following you. You tried to shake it off again.

You couldn't.

You can't.

Next thing you know, a hand caught your wrist. The eyes you never wanted to meet ever again. You thought he was gone. And for sure.

It was him.

It's Malachi.

Malachi Barton.

But it was his brown eyes. Those eyes you never want to see. Or so you thought. Untill it was ruined right now.

"Let go of her." Malachi growled at the blonde.

"Why? Doesn't like you're leaving with her anytime soon." The blonde boy shot back.

Malachi gave a look. If looks could kill. "Let her go, or I won't let you go."

The blonde look at Malachi. All he could think was 'asshole'. He left without saying anything.

Something came over you. Not just you but Malachi too.

Did he just get jealous?

That doesn't make sense! He's always hated you. Well, untill now.

The moment he saw you in that short skirt, man has he wanted to get you alone. Seeing have you ass hanging out. Tits ready to be visible and able to suck on.

He couldn't just throw himself on. He has to get his way. Always like before. Even in high school. It's always Malachi way.

You turned to the brunette. Gasping at his actions. You couldn't believe it. You know his dirty tricks. Just not this one.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Barton?" You shouted over the loud music. "You can't just go and tell me who I can and can't hangout with!"

"I think I can. It's a free country, right?" Malachi shot back.

Something in you didn't feel normal. Wasn't bad normal. It was a good different. Exciting different. It didn't make sense.

You knew Malachi could feel it too. You just wanted to shake it off. Go back to your friends and forget this has happened.

That's what you were doing. Exactly right now. But, Malachi stopped you immediately.

"Go fuck yourself." You sassed.

Next thing you know, Malachi slammed you against the wall. Malachi played it out smooth. Looking like everything was fine.

When really it's not. His boner in his pants wasnu helping. You can feel it too. Just made your core drip more for him.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Malachi breathed against your ear. "You wanna fuck me? Huh, you wanna do that?"

You tried to get away from Malachi. Everything in your power. You tried and tried. But you couldn't. Malachi would hold you in return.

Your back pressed against the wall. Malachi's left hand was under your breast. Seeing the nipple out from the dress. Teasing you like he is.

His other rhand on your waist. Moving it to your heat. The one place you need him so bad right now.

You let out a low moan. Not wanting Malachi to hear it. But he did. And good.

"Yeah, you feel that, princess?" Malachi smirked. His lips brushing against your neck. "Fell what you do to me. Lucky I ain't taking you right here and now."

The two words came out of your mouth. The two words you never thought you would say.

Here you are: under Malachi's control. Doing what you have wanted since the beginning.

"Do it."

Malachi couldn't believe what you were saying. He thought he was day dreaming. No, he's not.

This is real. What he is doing right now. He heard you perfectly clear.

He just wants to hear it from you.

"What was that?" He teased. "What do you want me to do?"

"What you were gonna do." You whispered.

Malachi thrusted his body on you. In return, you felt how he feel. And how he feels on the outside. Should say, inside.

"No, baby. What do you want me to do to you?" Malachi teased again.

You gulped before you spoke up. "Anything to me. Take me in the other bedroom and fuck me."

Malachi didn't need further information. He took you to the closest bedroom. Dragging your ass in it. He closed the door and locked it behind him.

He turned to you. His lips smashing onto yours. His lips already on your neck. Peeling the flesh with love marks. He lifts you up from your thighs.

He spread your legs wide open. Core dripping with cum already. If only he knows what you do at night.

Setting you down on the counter. The accessories falling on the ground.

He ripped your panties off. His two fingers pressing against your clit. Gasping for air. Breathing heavy from you.

Your head leaned back as he teased you. Gripping his air, your tongue dancing with his.

"Malachi....mmm-, shit, keep going." You moaned.

His fingers in your walls. Clenching everytime he would hit that spot. Making you see stars.

Your breathing picked up. Your orgasm was near. And it needed to happen now.

"Malachi, I am so close. I am gonna cum." You warned.

"No!" Malachi growled in your ear. "You cum on my cock." He ordered.

Malachi stripped to bare skin. Taking of your dress. His hands already on your breast. Squeezing the flesh. Your head leaned back as the pleasure kicked in.

His cock was pounding into you. Gasping for air as he did so. He turned you around. Your hands on the nightstand.

Your hips meeting his. Each thrsut was passionate. At the same time, rough and sloppy.

Your moans were echoing in the room. All you could hear was your moans in sync with the music.

"Oh my god." You whimpered. "Oh, god, Malachi! Right there! Shit."

"Yeah, you want it there? Want me to fuck you hard?"

You nodded your head.

"Can't hear you baby! You want it?"

"Yeah I want it." You whimpered.

"Again. Say it again." He breathed in your ear.

"I want it. I want it hard and rough." You replied.

Malachi continues to hit that spot. Making you scream his name. Just like he has dreamed. His cock feeling you clench around him.

Your near was close. So was his. Neither one of you were gonna last much longer. Just like now.

"Malachi....shit, I am so close."

"Thats it, angel. Cum for me."

With one last thrust, you and Malachi came. Y'all came so hard. His breathing and heart was in sync. Something he'd never thought he would think.

You turned around. Scoffing at your encounter.

"God, I hate myself." You breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Malachi wrapped his arms around your waist. Holding you; still in you. He smirked as he was waiting for a response.

"For what?"

"Loving you the way I do."

There is no going back now.

[melonba11s]

Suit and Tie (Strade/MC fanfic)

Contains: formal wear fetish (reader has one), alludes to canon events, shock collar mention, fluff, oral sex, Strades wearing a suit lol

Strade had been in a bad mood that morning.

He didn't take it out on you or Ren, he just stewed silently. Didn't smile as much when it came to conversation.

You asked Ren quietly what was up with him.

"He has a *wedding* to go too." Ren said, before giving an odd snicker.

"A wedding?" You said incredulously. "Who would invite that guy to a wedding?"

You forgot how normal, how loveable Strade was to the outside world. To those who didn't see him down a few steps and behind a locked door.

Ren shrugged.

"Some neighbor. He fixed their fridge and they invited him. He *hates* dressing up."

Dressing up. Of course someone like Strade would hate the constrictive bindings of a suit and tie. Someone trying to keep him held down in the form of clothing.

Ren seemed eager to see Strade for a whole other reason. Perhaps relishing in the chance to see his captor uncomfortable, feeling out of place.

You really couldn't imagine him cleaned up and wearing something other than cargo pants or jeans.

Or spending more than 10 minutes getting ready.

"Ren, should I shave?" his voice called from the bathroom.

"No, it's uncanny." Ren replied, flatly. You couldn't imagine Strade clean shaven either.

Strade spent a few more minutes rustling around in the bathroom before he finally emerged.

He looked... dulled. All of his energy quashed into a red suit that squared off his shoulders a bit too much. Even his hair was more under control, pulled back into a small tie that rested at the nape of his neck.

He tugged at his collar a bit, groaning.

"Why doesn't anyone ever just host a wedding at a bar or bowling alley?" A rhetorical question, based in his frustrations.

"You look good." The words fell from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

Different, but good. His eyes locked onto yours. The beginnings of curiosity and excitement flickering like a flame in his eyes. Wanting to make you tell him more, make you admit something else.

Then he glanced at the clock.

"Scheiße, I need to leave." He grabbed his wallet off the table and stuffed it into one of his suit pockets, before grabbing his car keys.

Then he grabbed a smaller remote, and spun a dial. You felt your collar light up, and stiffened, prepared for a shock.

Just a few small beeps. Decreasing the perimeter on the collars. An extra precaution for when he was gone longer than normal.

"Have fun." You said, barely lifting a hand to wave as he brushed past you and Ren and towards the door.

A grunt in response. He was not going to have any fun.

The sound of a door closing, a lock clicking into place, and silence settling down in the house.

"... So, what do you wanna do?" You turned to look at Ren. You supposed you should try and enjoy this alone time while you had the chance too.

The hours ticked by. Mid morning turned to early afternoon.

You and Ren watched TV. You ate lunch together. You lived *normally* for the first time in months.

But you couldn't get that damn suit out of your mind. Ren could tell you were distracted too.

"You have a fetish or something?" he had asked, catching you off guard.

"No! I just... Like the way suits look... they seem to make people a lot more attractive."

"So you do have a fetish."

"Shut up, you're one to talk."

Non-serious bickering that always felt good to get into. The kind friends had.

And yet even as the afternoon turned to dusk and Ren crept to be alone in his room, you stayed in the living room, thinking.

Thinking about how Strade's sweat would cling to that suit. How it would wrinkle over time as he moved and had a few drinks.

How he'd be dreaming of getting back home and taking it off. Maybe right in the hallway.

Weddings were emotional affairs, maybe he'd call you to him, force you onto your knees-

The sound of a garage door opening made you sit up. You were on your feet in seconds and adrenaline pushed you to race to find somewhere to hide, be out of the way. Somewhere Strade wouldn’t think to look.

Surprisingly. You stood in front of the fridge.

"I bet he'll want a beer." you thought. One of his favorites, cheap and tasting more like failed sourdough than a proper lager.

By the time the door opened, you had made your decision. You waited patiently, holding the cold can of beer, just inside the collar’s perimeter.

You could hear him kick off his dress shoes with a mumbled complaint about aching feet. Followed by a groan of relief as those aching feet hit chilly hardwood.

"Here." You said softly, as he appeared from around the corner.

Hair still up, but not as neat. The front of his suit was unbuttoned to reveal the dress shirt and he'd loosened the tie considerably.

The Strade you knew was oozing out from its cage. Eyes flickered from your face to the beer.

He took it as condensation began to form on the can and opened it. The sound of metal snapping open seemed so loud in the darkened house.

He took several long gulps before wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his suit, no longer having to worry about looking presentable.

"Thanks, Liebling." his voice was husky. He began to shrug the overcoat off.

"wait." you placed a hand on his arm. He stopped, eyes crinkling as he finally smiled.

"Ooh, that's right." A hand meeting your cheek before moving up to ruffle your hair. "You like suits."

You nodded, no use trying to hide it.

"I could tell by how you looked at me" he was moving closer. You took a step back into the wall, swallowing heavily.

You could smell him. Sweat, the myriads of cologne and perfume other guests had worn, the lingering of a steak dinner and champagne.

You pressed yourself against him and slid to the floor, knees hitting the wood.

"Strade." Your mouth felt so dry. "Can I please?..." You couldn't bring yourself to say it. You rubbed your cheek against his thigh, then pressed your face into his crotch.

Greeted with the pleasant surprise that he was already hard. You couldn't help but open your mouth and inhale his sharp musky scent, hoping to be able to taste it as much as you smelt it.

"You really are weird..." You looked up at him. He seemed so far away, those amber eyes glowing with affection.

His hands undoing his belt as you eagerly pulled his slacks down.

You should slow down, try not to look so eager as his cock twitched, freed from the sweaty confines of his boxers.

"to hell with it." you told those reasonable thoughts, circling the head of his cock with your tongue before taking him in your mouth.

The moan that came from him was delicious, his eyes closed as you took him further in. Feeling him buck his hips against you a bit and digging his hands into your hair.

If he had been trying to stay in control of himself, he failed. Because it wasn't long before you weren't doing any work at all, and were just letting him thrust into your throat.

Hands limp at your sides, looking up at him with misplaced adoration as he came down your throat.

"Swallow it all." he said, breathlessly. You didn't have a choice. If you did you still would.

The afterglow was nice. Panting, leaning against his legs as Strade steadied his breathing, a hand on your head.

"... How was the wedding?" you finally asked. Silence stretched on. You wondered if Strade was ignoring your question.

"I'd have rather spent the day with you."

You glanced at the clock.

“It’s still early.” you began to rise. “We can.. I don’t know. Spend the night together.”

A hand ruffling your hair.

“Right you are, Liebling. Let me get this monkey suit off.”

A quick plate of leftovers microwaved for him and another beer, you both had started out sitting on the couch, Strade now stripped down to nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

But as time went on, as the TV changed channels and programs, you had melted into each other. Strade laid out across the couch, a mess of limbs with your cheek pressed against his chest.

You found yourself staring at his hand, limp and upturned as he focused on the TV.

You slid your own palm across his and was met with a firm squeeze, and caught him smiling slightly.

"You're clingy tonight," he commented. Were you?

"I'm not used to you being gone." you replied. It was true. You'd grown used to Strades generous showering of physical affection and his overbearing company. Even if he was your kidnapper, he had a way of worming into your body and leaving holes in his absence.

A small chuckle.

"Oh so you have... what is it?... *separation anxiety*?"

You weren't going to grace him with an answer. You stayed quiet and just squeezed his hand back, focusing on its callused surface.

Strade would take silence as an answer too though, and you groaned as he began to sit up, forcing you up.

"I suppose I should give you some extra attention, to make up for it." you swore he *purred* those words, as he maneuvered you like an awkward mannequin until you were pinned underneath him on the couch.

You could feel your heart beating against your rib cage as you swallowed nervously.

The soft thud of Strades knees hitting the floor, apprehension and excitement flooding your body as he slid down until he was between your legs.

"Spread 'em." your joints felt stiff as you obeyed, whining softly as he worked your underwear down.

This felt familiar, you knew what he was up to, and you couldn't help but reach down to grab a handful of his hair.

"wai- AUGH" his teeth sunk into your inner thigh. On instinct your thighs snapped closed on his head, and he looked all too pleased with himself.

"Don't get greedy..." A light hearted warning that held no threat behind it, just simple teasing.

Making fun of you for being eager.

You knew your arousal was visible to him. You gripped the couch instead of his hair, afraid of more teeth as Strade pressed his mouth against you.

He enjoyed you like he enjoyed his beer. Peering at you over the rim of the glass with gleeful eyes as he ran his tongue across you fervently, enjoying every noise you made.

Eager groans of enjoyment coming from deep within his chest as he settled in, hands on your hips gripping you tightly. Strade was never one to let anyone take a meal away from him.

His already fast pace increasing as you began to writhe and moan. Nothing was ever slow or sensual, he wrung orgasms out of you like he started a lawnmower. Quick, jerking motions.

You closed your eyes and arched your body into him as you came, half expecting your fingers to put holes in the upholstery with how hard you gripped the couch.

He always had a self satisfied grin on his face whenever he was done performing. You remembered the first time you saw that smirk with half lidded eyes as he licked his lips.

The first time you saw that expression he hadn't let you stay with him on the couch.

You were glad he always let you stay by his side now.

[eerilymercilessthorn]

NejiTen and SasuHina make so poorly sense that they make NejiHina look senseful in comparison.

Now, this is WHY i say that SOME NejiTen's fans are wilds. Honestly to use Neji's death to hate on Hinata and support NejiTen (i am NOT talking about the creator but about about comments), is senseless and purely delusional. I said this with FULL RESPECT FOR EVERYONE'S SHIPS AS LONG AS THEY ARE NOT BASED ON HATE FOR A CHARACTER.

First of all Neji's sacrifice is meant to parallel his father's one : finally reach freedom by CHOSE to die to save someone that they LOVE. Is sad? YES. Is a highly symbolic death that establishes that Neji loves Hinata more than anyone else? ALSO YES. We all hoped that Neji would survive and help Hinata to change the clan BUT his character biggest dream was to find the freedom that only that death could really give him (since Kishimoto is too lazy to gave Hinata and Neji a better development).

Secondly: right, Neji died watching at the person that he loved the most, HIS WORLD, hoping that his strength would be her to carry..and that person was HINATA. This picture is actually just saying THAT SCENE WAS OBVIOUSLY ABOUT NEJI AND THE PERSON HE LOVED THE MOST : HINATA.

Neji never once show any kind of romantic interest in Tenten. Canonically he rejected Ino that is one of the prettiest, if not the prettiest girl, in Konoha, with coldness. He couldnt care less about her feelings.

Foo met the same "destiny". Please, look at how him and his teammates react in this frame where a very cute girl seems to flirt with him: Lee seems very emotionally involved, curious to see how his beloved friend will react, another guy would be shy or flirt back but Neji is unbothered and quite frankly even a bit annoyed, while TenTen seems genuinely bored. Sakura, Ino or even Temari would never react like this if Foo took Sasuke, Sai or Shikamaru's hands. Shy, quiet and lady like Hinata too would not be able to erase an emotional reaction to this, how do you want me to belive that loud, energetic and tomboyish TenTen would? What make you think that TenTen had his heart when Neji never once show interest in her or any other girl?

Blame Hinata for lack of NejiTen is delusional.

NOW, i need to admit that at least SasuHina shippers seems to be aware that they ship is purely based on color combo and aesthetic [even if even here : Neji and Hinata's color palettes are prettier] and has even less canon material than NejiTen, or at least its valid for most shippers but still make no sense to me.

No, SasuHina would NOT look like Yin and Yang: Neji is Hinata's YANG and Hinata is Neji's YIN. This NOT because "i said so", this because CANONICALLY they are presented like it. [Naruto Chapter 79 (left) - Rock Lee Spin-Off Chapter 9 (right).]

No, Hinata and Sasuke are not enemies to friends to lovers just because their are from the 2 biggest and strongest families in Konoha and they are not Romeo and Juliet- no man in canon is presented as Hinata's Romeo and even in Kenji Taira's not canon work (Kishimoto still collaborated) the only man that is potraited as her Romeo is NEJI.

Again, ship everything you want - i am not the shipping police but dont take symbols and scene that CANONICALLY belong to one of the people of your ship and a specific character to put it with another person that doesnt belong in it: its NOT just like admit that your ship has no material but its disrespect the relationiships that one of the character already have. "SasuHina is calmeness and rage, good and evil, forgiveness and revenge." yeah.. no.

All this compared to the fact that the only canon or filler interactions that Hinata and Sasuke ever had are full of formality, coldness and almost indifference is enough to see why SasuHina is a crackship! Sure, the fact that you ignore another person for vast majority of the work does not mean that you hate them; but it surely mean that you dont like them : i can ignore someone i am indifferent about but not a crush/lover/friend. They dont care for each other more that they care about any random person in Konoha.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

hold on, so lemme get this gay, a man on his stream made fun of an ad which had his friend, and basically said that the ad’s dialogues seemed unrealistic and his friend would never say something like that, yet the haters are hating on the man for saying his friend’s… name?

[keferon]

May I ask what were the best transformers media you ever saw/read?

Well Transformers Prime, Transformers 1986 and IDW comics are having the first place that’s for sure

And then the second place is kind of shared by Fall of Cybertron, Exodus, Prime wars trilogy, Robots in disguise(2001) and Transformers One.

The third place goes to G1, Animated, Earthspark, Armada, War for Cybertron Netflix series, Aligned Robots in disguise, Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts and Cyberverse because I only liked some little parts of them.

And then I also saw some of the Bay movies, Victory and Headmasters and didn’t like them at all.

Separate first place for J-Decker. It is not exactly Transformers but it is a show about giant robots and I loved it

[brionysea]

if stranger things 5 comes out and they're like 'omg! the upside down has been a product of someone's dark and twisted mind this whole time! it's... WILL!' I'll immediately lose interest

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[yujisdreamgirl]

gojo satoru had experienced hell before, that one time he lined up to get his favorite manga signed by the author but kept letting people cut in front of him because he was too scared to say something and he’s just nice like that. that was until geto told him off for doing it because he ended up not getting his book signed. he’s so dumb.

but this—this was a different kind of hell. he’s sat on the couch at a house party with.. yeah, you guessed it. the squad: suguru geto, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna… a whole bunch of hotties

it’s not really a pleasant sight to see. 2 girls clinging onto sukuna, fushiguro making out with one and geto talking to a girl who is clearly interested in him..

and then there’s gojo.

sitting there awkwardly, clutching a cup in his hand while sipping on nothing.

sure, he loves his best friend suguru. he just hates how popular he is. at every function, all the girls seem to be magnetised to his mysterious and brooding aura. and gojo’s just there, i guess. he huffs at the thought. he thinks knows that he could treat a girl soooo right if they just gave him a chance!

geto excuses himself to go upstairs with the girl. satoru already knows where this is going, so he brushes it off. he then eyes the group of girls from afar giggling and whispering to each other while looking at the guys on the couch. actually.. it looks like they’re looking towards his direction.

“come on y/n! just ask him!” your friends keep nudging and shoving you towards his direction, and gojo couldn’t help but scowl.

after finally mustering up the courage to come up to him, you fiddle with your fingers before stuttering out a quiet “hi,”

gojo sighs, “if you’re here to ask for suguru’s number, i’m not interested.”

your eyes widen in confusion which makes him confused too.

“oh, uh.. i was actually going to ask for yours..?”

what.

there’s no way.

“it’s fine if you’re not interested, i’m sorry—”

“NO, NO, I AM!” he internally cringes at his response. “sorry, i just.. thought you were gonna ask about suguru.” he puts his palm out, silently asking you to give him the sharpie. you shrug and give it to him, rolling your sleeve up.

you smile after he writes down his number on your forearm, giving you back your pen. “thanks,” he nods at you. “and for the record.. i think you’re way cuter than geto.” gojo’s face heats up as you walk away, burying his face into his hoodie.

you tuck the pen into your pocket, suppressing a grin as you walk away. behind you, gojo groans, burying his face deeper into his hoodie, his muffled voice barely audible.

“way cuter than geto,” he mutters to himself, kicking at the ground. “way cuter. oh my god.”

͙͘͡★ divider by @zerowhy & @cafekitsune 🩵

[isasweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you asking them to set you up with someone else

This was a fun request. I might slip some dynamic duo rivalry here.. hmm.. maybe this is the same universe as loft talk. This is pre relationship prank!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus (Rafayel)

"Hey, Sy. Can you set me up with one of your roommates?" "I don't have roommates." "? What do you mean. You have four roommates. I want the artist!" "No I absolutely do not. What artist?"

Would NEVER let you meet Rafayel, no matter what it takes. Rarely ever bring you back to the loft anymore.

Considered moving out of the loft and everything but stopped once you tell him it's a prank.

Xavier (Jeremiah)

"Xavie, is Jeremiah seeing anyone?" "I don't know a Jerry." "Jeremiah." "I don't know who that is either."

He gets SOOOO jealous (that's why we like him)

Why would you ask him to set you up with someone else. He's right there. He's perfect for you in every way. 🥺🥺🥺 - Xavier, probably

Rafayel (Sylus)

"Can you set me up with one of your friends?" "I don't have friends." "Yes you do! That fruit guy is breathtaking!" "You know what else is breathtaking? If I were to hold his head underwater." "Sorry?" "I said I am also breathtaking!"

He fish. Fish forgor stuff. Roommate? Who? Sylus? Thomas? Who???? What are you talking about?

Becomes extra mean to Sylus the next day and Sylus was so confused as to why is his bestfriend who is not his bestfriend seems to hate him more than usual!?

Zayne (Greyson)

"Dr. Zayne, can you set me up with Greyson?" "Why?" "Because.. I want to?" "His name is Doctor Greyson, and do you really want to..?" "Yes please! Set me up with Dr. Greyson!" "...." "Zayne?" "If that's what you want."

I don't think he's gonna try to stop you nor does he realize you're testing the waters to see how he feels about you, defeatedly gives Greyson your number, but Greyson was so confused because why would he hit up Zayne's girlfriend???

"She's your girl, Zayne." "She is not." "Yes she is, she's just testing to see how you'd react, dummy. Now go and actually ask her out."

Caleb (Gideon)

Before you start pranking him, you prayed for Gideon's safety.

"Caleb, can you set me up with-" "He's gay." "I haven't even said a name!" "Yeah, everybody around me is gay. I'm their ally." "Caleb!!!"

He'd frown and keep telling you why would you need anybody else when you can have HIM. He's the one who knows you the best! He knows how to make you smile! He's 100% your boyfriend material! 😤