#How can I keep my room cool without AC?

[voidimp]

thinking i may have seasonal depression (summer flavor)

[arixella]

You get hurt and don't tell them pt.3 ' ft. shanks, kid, killer

wc: 355 requested 😋 luffy, zoro, sanji law, ace, sabo crocodile, mihawk, buggy

Shanks

-Shanks notices something’s off almost immediately—he’s surprisingly sharp when it comes to you.

“Oi, what’s this? You’re hurt?” His tone is lighthearted, but there’s genuine concern in his eyes as he inspects you.

-He chuckles and ruffles your hair. “You thought you could hide this from me? Come on, don’t you trust me?”

-Shanks takes a laid-back approach, gently tending to your injury while cracking jokes to keep you smiling. “You know, you’re lucky I’ve got steady hands for this. Imagine if I was drinking.” (He definitely was drinking.)

-Afterward, he pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping you in his coat as if to shield you from the world. “Next time, just tell me, alright? I can’t have you getting hurt on my watch.”

-If the injury was caused by someone else, Shanks’ smile turns razor-sharp, and you know he’ll be having a “talk” with them.

-Later, he keeps you close, pouring you a drink (or some tea if you’re not feeling up to it) and teasing you to lighten the mood.

“You’ve got to look after yourself better. Who else is going to keep me entertained, huh?” His words are playful, but the way he lingers by your side shows how much he genuinely cares.

-You might catch him glancing at you more often than usual, as if making sure you’re really okay. But, in true Shanks fashion, he plays it cool—effortlessly balancing concern with his carefree charm.

Eustass Kid

-Kid finds out you’re hurt, and let’s just say he’s not happy about it. “The hell? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

-He’s rough around the edges, so his frustration comes out in angry words, but it’s clear he’s worried.

-He’s surprisingly gentle when he checks your injury, muttering things like, “Idiot… You could’ve made it worse.”

-If someone else caused your injury, Kid is ready to hunt them down immediately—he doesn’t let anyone mess with what’s his.

-After cooling off, he sits beside you with a gruff, “Don’t hide stuff like this again. I mean it.” His tone softens just enough to show he cares.

Killer

-Killer is the silent but observant type, so he notices your injury even if you try to hide it.

“You’re hurt,” he states plainly, no room for argument. He’s calm but firm as he insists on treating you.

-His movements are careful and precise, and though he doesn’t say much, his actions speak volumes about how much he cares.

-Killer’s worry is subtle, but you can hear it in his voice when he says, “You need to be more careful.”

-Later, he sits with you in comfortable silence, keeping you close and making sure you know he’s there if you need him.

♡♡♡

© 2024 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[yuukskillsworld]

I was wondering if u could do headcanons of what summer would be like with all the killer chat love interests with a reader that HATESSS summer bc of the heat and all the bugs and if you don't wanna do all the li just ronin is fine!

“Hot, Bothered, and Yours: Summer" - Killer Chat LIs X Reader Headcanons

Hey, sweetheart—thanks for the fun request!

If summer’s your sworn enemy (ugh, the heat? the bugs? the sweat??), just know these killer love interests have their own... steamy ways of dealing with it.

Let’s get into it, yeah?

written by yuukskillsworld<3

WARNINGS: Mild swearing, flirting and suggestive language, heat-induced irritation

(No serious triggers—just vibes and summer suffering.)

Ronin Beaufort

Ronin finds your summer misery hilarious.

♡ The second he sees you flopped on the couch in a tank top and an ice pack down your shirt, he smirks: “Aww, what’s wrong, darlin’? Can’t handle a little sunshine?”

♡ He refuses to turn on the AC unless you threaten violence. “Heat builds character. Or were you always this dramatic?” (He’s already turning the AC on behind your back. He just likes watching you flail.)

♡ When the bugs get bad, he pulls out an old-school fly swatter like it’s a weapon and declares war. He’s unnecessarily aggressive about it. “This one’s for you, baby,” he says, smacking the air dramatically.

♡ If you’re grumpy, he gets handsy. Not necessarily helpful, but distracting. “C’mon, sweat looks good on you. And I’ve got a few ways to make you forget the heat…”

Maria de la Rosa(Angel)

Angel actually loves summer—but she loves you more.

♡ She notices how miserable you are and immediately adapts her plans. No more long hikes. No open fields. Just shaded walks, indoor picnics, and cool drinks.

♡ She gets you one of those handheld fans—and decorates it with your favorite colors or stickers. “Gotta keep my baby cool and cute.”

♡ If bugs come near you? She’s ready with the spray. “Not today, Satan,” she mutters, shielding you like a bug-slaying guardian angel.

♡ She brings you popsicles. She wears flowy clothes. She sets up soft pillows in the coolest part of the house so you two can nap together. “See? Summer’s not so bad when you’re wrapped up in me.”

Misaki Katsuo

Misaki doesn’t love the heat either, but they’ll never admit it. Their whole vibe is “adapt and cause problems.”

♡ They turn summer into a game. Every bug you swat earns you a point. Every time you complain, they tickle you.

♡ “You hate summer?” they grin, already dragging you outside with a squirt gun. “Then it’s war, babe.”

♡ They set up a kiddie pool and force you to sit in it with them like a pair of gremlins. “We suffer together. It’s romantic.”

♡ And when you finally snap and say, “I’m going to melt,” they grin and pour an entire pitcher of cold water on your head. “Better?” (They’re soaked right after, don’t worry.)

Valentin Viljoen(V)

V hates inefficient suffering, so he becomes your personal anti-summer strategist.

♡ Blackout curtains. High-end AC unit. Bug-repelling plants and scents. He has it all set up like a military operation.

♡ You wake up one morning to find the thermostat pre-programmed, your clothes chilled in the fridge, and the patio sealed from insects.

♡ When you say, “Ugh, I hate this season,” he just hands you a glass of cucumber water and kisses your forehead. “Then we make it tolerable. Together.”

♡ He’s surprisingly clingy when you’re hot and annoyed. Always brushing damp hair off your face or sitting close without touching unless you let him.

♡ And if you’re hiding in a dark room mid-heatwave? He joins you silently and reads aloud until you calm down.

Thanks again for the request, sunshine (yes, I said it).

Whether you're melting, swatting bugs, or just trying to survive the season—these killers have your back. And if not... well, they’ll at least keep you distracted. Hope you had fun reading, sweetie! <3

Credits:

-> dividers: @dollywons

-> photo: Pinterest

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Idia Shroud - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

Idia: …Hrrm, I can't find the 15th Anniversary special Star Rogue diorama.

Idia: I told Sam-shi I'd look for it myself, so I wouldn't have to deal with him talking to me, but… There's way too much stuff here to look through!

Idia: And I came all this way 'cause I wasn't fast enough to get it online.

Idia: I can't go back empty-handed after telling Ortho that there's no way I wouldn't get my hands on one as a number one fanboy!

Idia: Oho? This shelf over here has a ton of specialty figures and other hobby stuff… EEHHHH!?

[products fall of shelf]

Idia: OUCH! OW OW OW!!

Jack: Woah!? That was close! Some of the falling goods almost scraped by my nose…

Idia: I-I-I didn't do anything! They just fell off on their own since they were thrown haphazardly onto the shelf!!

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Huh? No one said it was your fault or nothin'…

Jack: …What the, he's already gone! Idia-senpai… He looks slow and frail, but is he secretly actually pretty nimble?

Jack: Oh, man, and he just left everything on the ground. Ugh, I guess I'll have to…

Jack: …Hm? Isn't this box the one Ortho mentioned today…?

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: …Haah. And in the end, I just ran away… Without a Star Rogue diorama…

Idia: It's all because they sold it first-come-first-serve, instead of pre-order... Not my fault what happened earlier…

Idia: If I went back now, that terrifying beast of a man from Savanaclaw might still be there. I'll try again tomorrow…

Idia: K. Now that I've decide that, time to get all the annoying dorm work stuff done!

Idia: Uhhh, so, the notices I have to give the other dorm students are… Oh, right, the equipment replacement schedule, and the AC inspection time.

Idia: Just in case, I'll add "Important", "Good News", "Response Required", and "Read Immediately" to the subject… K, sent.

Idia: It sure is hard work bein' a Housewarden. Thought it's not that bad since I implemented a chat app once I became Housewarden.

Idia: Efficiency above all! No face-to-face meetings! Conserving my own energy is the best way to do things!

Idia: Finished all my Housewarden tasks, and even took a shower, as annoying as it is. I'm awesome. I'd give myself 100,000,000 points out of 100.

Idia: Nice, so… It's finally me time!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Ah, I got a message from Ortho… He's spending the night in the first year rooms, huh.

Idia: Then, I guess I can just game all night by myself! Fheeheehee!

 [beep, beep!]

Idia: Hm…? What's with this reminder…? Man, right when I was getting into things.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Idia: Ugh.. Right, that was a thing. You don't really see paper surveys anymore. Let me think, it should be around… Yep, here it is.

Idia: Uhhh, so what, they want to know what I'd like improved? I mean, kinda late to ask a third-year, isn't it? I can't really think of anything.

Idia: Sides, there were stuff I used to not like about the dorm, but I already made upgrades to all that stuff.

Idia: We soundproofed the walls and floors, installed commercial-grade AC, and the dorm-wide servers are of my own technical specs.

Idia: To live the perfect shut-in life, we can't not have walls that can't take loud shouting, or ACs that can't keep overclocked PCs cool, so～

Idia: …Ah, wait a mo'. I just thought of one issue I got. "There's not enough electrical outlets"!!

Idia: This kinda stuff needed specialized qualifications to do, so it's not like I coulda bought the parts and DIY it.

Idia: I'm using a power strip for now 'cause I have to, but I hate how the wiring just looks like spaghetti. Even a master wiring tech like myself can't stand a sight like that!

Idia: Oh, I just thought of one more thing. "I want to have the low-capacity breaker replaced"!

Idia: It's so weak that the breaker flips just 'cause I try to have 4 computers, the server, a 3D printer, microwave, and electric kettle all plugged in at once!

Idia: I mean, I'd set up a UPS (uninterruptible power supply) system in case of emergencies, so my computers and server was fine, but...

Idia: Because of that, my plan to add an AC unit and a refrigerator in my room went out the window. That was a nightmare. Oh, and…

Idia: …Dyehehe. I said I couldn't really think of any, but it's hilarious how the ideas keep flowin' out.

Idia: I'll attach some of the numbers we have on the cost of estimated damages by having Ignihyde students continue to use those useless breakers.

Idia: The Headmage is pretty much influenced by profits, so. If I explain how it's necessary to get better equipment, then he might listen to improvement suggestions.

Idia: Nice, mission clear. Time to watch some new anime episodes while grinding levels in my gams.

Idia: See, nothing beats watching anime while mindlessly leveling… Ooh, I pulled a rare one!

Idia: I thought I'd be bored of this anime 3 episodes in, too, but it's actually starting to get interesting!

Idia: Well, now that the mood's getting good, I just gotta let loose! TIME FOR A SNACK PARTY!!

Idia: …Huh? I'm out of my favorite snack. Ugh, I completely forgot to re-order some more when I ate all of it last time.

Idia: If only the Mystery Shop had 24-hour delivery service… Maybe I should add that to the survey?

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I should just focus on the anime. NOTHING'S GONNA BRING ME DOWN!

Idia: Woah, the animation's clean…! They're all movin' so smoothly… Maybe the production team changed this week?

Idia: I'm getting pretty into the main theme song, too! Heehee, fheeheehee…!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Urrghnn… Aaarghh…

[～♪]

Idia: Gah! Urgh, what's that noise…? What time is it right now…?

Idia: Urk! Everything's so bright, I can't see anything… How's it morning already…? Wait, before that, where'd that noise come from…!?

Idia: Huh…? Ortho…? Weren't you spending the night with the other first years…? Oh wait, is this just a message…?

Idia: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"…? Oh, right, today's my birthday! I completely forgot, since there wasn't anything to look forward to…

Idia: I'll just write back… Thanks, Ortho.

Idia: Urp…! But now I feel a bit sick…! And my whole body hurts…!

Idia: I fell asleep running my games, and I'm just stiff all over. Can't I just go move to my bed and go back to sleep?

Idia: Nah, if I end up crashing and forget to login and get all the birthday login voice lines, I'll never recover. Gotta wash my face or something…

Idia: Woah, I can see how crazy my bedhead is reflected in the monitor! I think this every time, but why does my hair end up this bad whenever I fall asleep at my desk?

Idia: Kinda looks punk, but that's totally a different vibe from my usual, lawl.

Idia: Meh, my hair can be whatever. Not like anyone looks at me, anyway.

Idia: It's a pain to go all the way to the washroom… I'll just use magic like I normally do. I'll chill the water, then.

[splash!]

Idia: WHEEEEW, THAT COLD WATER HITS JUST RIGHT!!

Idia: Normally, I'd just leave it here, but… My face feels so dry after pulling that all-nighter.

Idia: But I'm all good. I'm a functioning nerd, so I know how to fix it.

Idia: Ta-da～ I don't really get it, but here I go with the number one most popular all-in-one cream～

Idia: Putting on lotion and moisturizer one at a time is a waste of time. Just plap it on, and ta-da, done. Next is my clothes…

Idia: Nah, nevermind, I'm not gonna change. Now all I have to do is to jump into all my games and collect the birthday login voice lines. Fheeheehee.

Idia: Perf, I've gotten them all for now. …Huh? There's another message from Ortho…

Idia: …HUH!? HE GOT THE 15TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL STAR ROGUE DIORAMA!? SERIOUSLY!?

Idia: "I was planning on picking it up in the Mystery Shop after classes, but if you can't wait, you can go pick it up whenever"…?

Idia: Well, I gotta go right now, then! That means I have to finish getting ready.

Idia: I don't really wanna go outside, but… I can't keep my poor Star Rogue waiting! Hyah!

[Idia magics hair and clothes]

Idia: K, bedhead fixed. And now, onwards, to the Mystery Shop!!

[Main Street]

Idia: Fheeheehee…! Look at this craftsmanship…! It looks just like the scene I imagined as a kid!

Idia: Ortho… Did you look for this Star Rogue diorama because you knew I was sad I didn't get it?

Idia: Wheew～ The best thing in the world is a little brother who thinks the world of his older brother, and is really good at search functions～!

Jack: Hm? Is that… Idia-senpai? Good morning.

Idia: GYAAAAAA!? J-Jack-shi…? Why are we making contact two days in a row…?

Jack: I mean, it's not really anything, but… I heard from Ortho yesterday that today was your birthday, is all.

[Idia runs away]

Jack: Happy Birthday. So, uh, did you get what you were looking…

Jack: Huh, he's already gone! Ugh, I don't get him at all.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[honeydippedfiction]

There's no number but can I get with Joey B, 'you used to hate me, and now you can't take your eyes off me.' 'you have no idea how long i've thought about having you like this.' & "My little slut to ruin"🤭

Reposting bc tumblr decided to fuck with me again, so if you seen this earlier, no you didn’t.

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

'you used to hate me, and now you can't take your eyes off me.' 'you have no idea how long i've thought about having you like this.' & "My little slut to ruin"

Joe Burrow x black!femreader

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It started, as most disasters do, with a smirk.

Y/N would remember it for the rest of her life—not because anything particularly dramatic happened that day, but because of the way it made her feel. A slow-burning irritation, the kind that simmers behind your ribs long after the moment passes. The kind that warns you, deep in your gut, this one’s going to be trouble.

The first time she met Joe Burrow, he was sitting on her mama’s butter-soft leather couch, legs sprawled out like he’d paid rent and picked out the curtains. He had a Gatorade bottle tilted lazily in one hand, the condensation dripping onto a coaster he probably didn’t notice. He looked right at home—too at home—and that alone set her teeth on edge.

It was the summer after her sophomore year of college, a summer she had earned. She came back to Baton Rouge with a fresh silk press, a sun-kissed tan from a wild week in Miami, and exactly zero patience for anything that didn’t include her bed, her mama’s cooking, and uninterrupted sleep. Her duffel bag was still digging into her shoulder when she stepped through the front door, kicked it shut behind her, and caught sight of him. A stranger.

“And you are?” she asked coolly, letting the bag thud to the hardwood floor beside her. He looked up without urgency, as if he hadn’t just been caught trespassing. His eyes met hers, cool and amused, and then that smirk unfurled—slow, deliberate, dangerous. “Joe,” he said, standing just enough to offer a handshake she didn’t bother accepting. “You must be Chris’s sister.” She didn’t like the way he said it, like it was obvious, like he’d known all along that she’d walk through that door and try to put him in his place. She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Yeah. And you must be the reason my brother keeps canceling plans.”

“Guilty,” he replied with a one-shoulder shrug, lifting the Gatorade for another sip. “We’ve been working out. Grinding.”

“You say that like you deserve a medal.” He grinned wider. “You’re kind of intense, huh?” Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re kind of everywhere. Why are you even in my house?” He gestured vaguely toward the kitchen like it was his own. “Chris told me to come through. Said y’all had leftovers and AC.”

Of course he did. Typical Chris—inviting people over like he signed the mortgage. Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose and muttered something half-formed under her breath as she turned and walked away. She didn’t bother saying goodbye. Didn’t slam the door either. That would’ve been too much like admitting he got under her skin. That was day one.

Day two came with more noise. Joe was back again, this time in the backyard with Chris, both shirtless, sweating, and talking trash as they shot hoops on the cracked old driveway court. The ball thudded against the pavement, laughter echoing off the fence like they owned the whole damn block. Y/N sat at the kitchen window, sipping iced tea and watching him through narrowed eyes. He moved like he knew people were watching—too smooth, too casual. She tried to pretend it didn’t bother her, but every time he shot and scored, he’d glance toward the house like he knew she was there.

Later, as she passed through the den on her way to the laundry room, he was already inside again, toweling off his hair, sweat making his skin shine. He noticed her before she noticed him. “Hey,” he said, voice easy. “You always this quiet, or just when I’m around?” She didn’t break stride. “Just when I’m trying not to say something rude.” He chuckled. “Fair enough. But I’m growing on you. Admit it.” She shot him a withering look. “Like mold.” But the corner of her mouth betrayed her. A twitch. A flicker of something she’d later swear wasn’t a smile.

Over the next few weeks, Joe Burrow became a constant—an irritating, charming, unavoidable presence in her summer. He was always there. At the house, in the kitchen, on the porch, in her damn peripheral vision. He was loud and opinionated, always challenging her, poking fun at her playlists, calling her bougie when she refused to drink anything but bottled water. He teased her like he’d known her for years, and when she pushed back, he only seemed more entertained.

And slowly, so slowly, her annoyance stopped feeling sharp and started feeling... complicated. She hated the way he could disarm her. The way he noticed things—like when she was tired, or when her curls started to frizz in the heat. The way he asked questions like he meant to listen, not just to respond. She hated that she started answering him.

One night, near the end of July, they were alone on the porch. The air was thick with humidity, and the cicadas screamed like they were trying to drown out the silence. Joe leaned back on the porch swing, his knee brushing hers just enough to make her glance down. “You ever gonna let up on me?” he asked softly, almost without a smile. She didn’t answer right away. Took a sip of her lemonade. Watched the stars.

“Depends,” she said eventually. “On what?” She looked over, eyes catching his in the half-dark. “On whether you’re worth the effort.” That night, he didn’t smirk. Just looked at her like he didn’t mind waiting for her to figure that out.

It started, as most disasters do, with a smirk. But it was the way he looked at her after the smirk—the patience, the pull, the quiet confidence—that would be her real undoing. And she would spend the rest of that summer pretending she hadn’t already lost.

♥ﾟ･｡♥｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡｡･ﾟ♡♡ﾟ･｡｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡♥｡･ﾟ♥

It didn’t get better after that.

If anything, it got worse. Joe had a presence—a kind of quiet, natural magnetism that didn’t ask for attention, but somehow demanded it anyway. He didn’t chase the spotlight. The spotlight just had a way of following him around like a loyal dog. He walked with this relaxed confidence, shoulders loose, laugh easy, eyes sharp—like he’d read the room three moves ahead and was already halfway through winning the game. And the thing that drove Y/N insane was that everyone else fell for it.

Her mama, who didn’t like any of Chris’s friends on principle, made sure Joe had sweet tea in his hand and a second helping on his plate. Her aunties treated him like he’d married into the family already—pulling him into hugs and blessing him over plates of ribs like he was too skinny. Her little cousins followed him around like ducklings. The neighborhood barbers waved at him from their porches. And at every family barbecue, birthday party, and impromptu Sunday gathering, Joe Burrow made himself at home like he'd been carved into the family tree generations ago.

He showed up, laughed too loud, charmed everybody without trying, and somehow always ended up sitting next to her. And he had the nerve—the absolute gall—to be attractive. Y/N knew he knew it, too. The smirks. The slow blinks. The way he’d push his hand through his hair after a game like he knew people were watching. Like he had some ESPN highlight reel playing behind his eyes.

“Quarterback Barbie,” Y/N muttered one Saturday afternoon, narrowing her eyes at the window. She and her best friend, Londyn, were camped on the living room couch, half-watching reruns of Girlfriends while trying not to melt in the Southern heat. Outside, Joe was in the yard, shirtless again, tossing a football back and forth with Chris. His skin glistened under the sun, golden and infuriating. His shorts hung low, just enough to make Y/N look longer than she meant to. Londyn followed her gaze, squinting. “Barbie? Girl, he looks like he sells out every aisle in Target. That man is an action figure.”

Y/N scoffed and flopped back against the cushions. “He’s arrogant. He thinks being good at football makes him a philosopher.” Londyn raised an eyebrow. “What’d he say this time?” “He told Chris that pressure doesn’t make diamonds—it just reveals what was already there.” “…You sure he didn’t steal that off Pinterest?” “Doesn’t matter. He said it like he invented the thought.” Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes so hard it gave her a headache. “And then he had the nerve to wink at me.”

Londyn laughed. “You are kind of obsessed.”

“I’m observant,” Y/N corrected sharply. But she knew what the real problem was. It wasn’t just the charm or the looks or the casual way he seemed to own every room he walked into. It was the fact that Joe Burrow never let her win. Never gave her the satisfaction of the last word. He wasn’t intimidated by her sharp tongue or her raised eyebrow. He didn’t back down when she got snippy—he leaned in. Met her snark with smirks. Matched her sarcasm beat for beat.

He challenged her. And worse? Sometimes, he won. She remembered one night in particular, a few weeks into summer. They were standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, a lazy Friday night where Chris had gone upstairs and left them alone with the hum of the ceiling fan and the clink of ice in their drinks. “You’re not even that clever,” she’d said coolly, trying to shake him off like a gnat at a picnic. He didn’t flinch. Just leaned on the counter with both hands, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And yet,” he said, “I keep living in your head rent-free.” Her jaw clenched. Her heart stuttered. She blinked—once, twice—then turned and walked away without a word. Infuriating. Absolutely, irredeemably infuriating. And still, somehow… always back again the next day. Like clockwork. Like gravity.

♥ﾟ･｡♥｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡｡･ﾟ♡♡ﾟ･｡｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡♥｡･ﾟ♥

There were moments when she told herself she hated him. Like really, truly, viscerally hated him.

Like when he played Spades with her uncles and actually held his own. Or when he brought her mama flowers “just because,” and she giggled like she was seventeen. Or when he made a joke about her favorite movie, and she bit back a laugh so hard it hurt her stomach. But those were just surface-level wounds. The real blow came on a late Thursday night in July, after everyone had gone home and the backyard was quiet, littered with red Solo cups and citronella candles burning low.

She’d stepped out to get some air and found him sitting on the porch steps, alone, head tilted back to the sky. “You ever think,” he said, not looking at her, “about how some moments feel like the start of something before they actually are?” She paused, thrown by the softness in his voice. “What?” He turned then, looking up at her. His eyes were tired. Honest. That golden-boy shine dimmed by something real underneath. “I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “I was just thinking... Sometimes, you meet someone, and everything after that starts to shift. You don’t even realize it until you’re already deep in it.” Y/N sat beside him slowly, unsure of why her heart was beating like it had something to prove. “That’s either really deep,” she said carefully, “or really manipulative.”

Joe laughed under his breath. “You’ll figure it out.” She didn’t answer. Just looked out at the yard, her arms crossed against the chill creeping in from the night. She hated that he always had a way of saying things she’d be thinking about days later. And in that silence—between the candles, the sweat, the laughter that still lingered in the air like perfume—she realized something that made her chest ache: This wasn’t the start of a crush. It was the start of a problem. And Joe Burrow was going to be the kind of problem she couldn’t walk away from without limping.

♥ﾟ･｡♥｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡｡･ﾟ♡♡ﾟ･｡｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡♥｡･ﾟ♥

Over the years, the clashes got louder—and more public.

They were no longer just private spats whispered behind closed doors or snide remarks tossed in passing. Now, their arguments echoed through crowded rooms, crackling with a mix of frustration and something unspoken, something neither wanted to admit.

It was at a Fourth of July barbecue, the sun high and the scent of fireworks already thick in the air, when Y/N, fed up with Joe’s constant smirking and effortless charm, finally jabbed, loud enough for half the yard to hear, “Hey, Football Ken, ever thought of using that big brain for something other than charming your way out of a conversation?”

The words hung in the air like a spark before the fireworks started—a sharp, pointed challenge. Joe turned toward her, grin widening as if she’d just handed him a prize. “Football Ken?” he repeated, voice teasing. “I like that. Fits me better than ‘Quarterback Barbie,’ don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t back down. “At least Barbie’s not afraid to get a little dirt on her hands.”

Laughter bubbled around them from the crowd, but the heat between Y/N and Joe was something else—something sparking just beneath the surface, far from friendly.

Weeks later, at Chris’s graduation dinner, the tension flared again, this time over plates of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, the whole family gathered in a warm, crowded dining room lit by soft chandeliers.

Joe leaned back in his chair, elbow resting casually on the table, eyes locked on Y/N with that infuriating smirk. “You know,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “you’re way too pretty to be this annoying.”

Y/N’s fork paused mid-air. The words weren’t exactly a compliment, but they landed somewhere uncomfortable—half-flattery, half-insult, all of it charged.

She didn’t say a word at the table, but later, in the quiet sanctuary of her room, she iced him out. No texts. No smiles. No acknowledgment.

For two weeks, she pretended he didn’t exist.

But Joe had a way of creeping back into her life, slipping through the cracks like sunlight on a cloudy day. And even when she tried to shut the door, it never stayed closed.

Because their fights weren’t really fights.

They were matches.

Each argument was less about winning and more about something neither wanted to name. Something electric, simmering just beneath the surface, pulsing between them with every jab and retort.

In those moments—when their voices raised and eyes flashed—there was a buzz that neither could deny. A heat that made their skin prickle and their words sharper, as if the tension was charging the air itself.

They both pretended it wasn’t there. They both pretended they didn’t want it.

Until this trip.

Until Turks & Caicos.

Because now? The rules were different.

Gone were the watchful eyes of big brothers and cousins, the familiar rhythms of family dinners and backyard basketball games. There were no protective glances, no snide comments from Auntie, no shared history to lean on or fight over.

Just saltwater, relentless sun, and the endless stretch of sand beneath their feet.

And the heat—both from the sun and from something far more dangerous—wrapped around them like a second skin.

They found themselves closer than ever before. Too close, maybe.

Nights bled into mornings, filled with the taste of cold drinks and the sharp tang of sea spray. They joked, they fought, they laughed, but in the quiet moments—when the music slowed and the stars came out—they felt the space between them shrink until it almost disappeared.

Y/N caught Joe’s gaze more times than she could count, the challenge and the invitation tangled in the depths of his eyes.

And Joe? He moved with a confidence that was new—less cocky, more deliberate—as if the game had changed and he was playing for keeps.

For the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to walk away.

Because maybe this time, the match wasn’t meant to end in fire.

Maybe it was meant to burn.

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The sun was beginning its slow descent into the Caribbean horizon, casting the sky in soft layers of burnt gold and rose-petal pink. Warm breezes whispered through the palms that framed the luxurious villa perched high along the cliffs of Turks & Caicos. Below, waves crashed rhythmically against jagged rocks, a steady, soothing soundtrack that blended with the distant thump of bass from Bluetooth speakers scattered throughout the property.

Y/N sank deeper into the plush lounger beside the infinity pool, a glass of rum punch untouched at her side, beads of condensation rolling slowly down the glass. Her skin glistened in the fading sunlight—cocoa-rich and kissed by salt and sun—while the vibrant orange bikini clung to her curves like it was made just for her. She looked radiant, glowing, but behind her dark sunglasses, her eyes betrayed something else: a simmering annoyance she was trying very hard to hide.

Across the pool, Joe Burrow stood shirtless, leaning against the marble ledge as he laughed with her brother Chris and a couple of the other guys. His toned torso was on full display, muscles flexing with casual ease, the backwards baseball cap holding his sun-bleached curls in place. He looked like the poster boy for Midwestern football—white boy swagger, golden retriever grin, and that unmistakable quarterback arrogance all wrapped into one.

God, he was exhausting.

Y/N’s lips twitched into a scowl as she muttered, “Why does he always have to be like this?”

Londyn, stretched out beside her in a sage-green bikini and clearly enjoying the show, took a slow sip of her own drink and smirked. “Like what?”

“Like that,” Y/N said, tilting her head toward Joe with the straw of her drink. “Cocky. Loud. Always trying so hard to prove he’s the most important person in the room.”

Londyn’s eyebrow rose in amused disbelief. “He’s just tossing a football and laughing.”

“Exactly,” Y/N snapped. “Loudly.”

“You’re obsessed,” Londyn teased, drawing the word out with a teasing smile. “You talk about him like he personally ruined your life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He’s annoying, not a villain.”

“Please.” Londyn leaned closer, lowering her voice playfully. “You hate how fine he is, and you hate that you can’t stop noticing it.”

Y/N shot her a side-eye glare. “I’ve seen better.”

Londyn didn’t miss a beat. “Have you, though?” She nodded toward Joe, who had just run a hand through his damp hair. His muscles flexed with a grace that was borderline criminal. “’Cause from where I’m sitting, he looks like an Olympic event.”

“Yeah, the Arrogance Games,” Y/N muttered, just as Joe happened to glance their way.

And then he started walking over.

“Oh God,” Y/N hissed under her breath. “Here comes the circus.”

Londyn sat up, grinning. “I’m gonna go check on the charcuterie in the kitchen.”

“You’re abandoning me?”

“I’m giving you two a moment,” she said over her shoulder, voice light and musical. “Try not to kill each other. Or do. Whatever gets results.”

Y/N barely had time to shoot her a death glare before Joe was standing right beside her lounger, his shadow falling over her and instantly cooling the air—and raising her irritation.

“You look comfortable,” he said, voice low, thick with that teasing, easygoing drawl he always used when he wanted to get under her skin. “Didn’t take you for the lounging type.”

She looked up at him slowly, tilting her head just enough to meet his gaze from beneath her sunglasses. “And I didn’t take you for the literate type. Guess we’re both learning new things.”

Joe chuckled, clearly amused. “You’ve got claws today. That’s cute.”

“I’m always like this. You just happen to bring out the worst of it.”

“Really?” He leaned in slightly, that playful spark igniting in his ocean-blue eyes. “Because I think I bring out your best.”

“In your dreams.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His grin deepened, slow and knowing. “You’re in those, too.”

She sat up straighter, voice low and sweet—honey over broken glass. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Joe crossed his arms, chest stretching like he knew exactly what effect he had on her. “What should I call you then? Trouble? Princess?”

“You should call me someone who’s way out of your league.”

“Funny.” He glanced down at her, his eyes lingering just a fraction too long before snapping back to hers. “I don’t remember joining a league I couldn’t dominate.”

His words landed somewhere between infuriating and intoxicating.

Y/N rose, brushing past him as she grabbed her drink from the table, her hip grazing his towel-covered thigh. She heard the quick catch in his breath—felt it—like a secret.

“What, no comeback?” Joe asked behind her, amused, curious.

“I’m pacing myself,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s a long trip.”

“Plenty of time for you to fall in love with me, then.”

Y/N turned back, blinking slowly. “If I start showing symptoms, I’ll seek immediate medical attention.”

Joe took a step closer. The space between them shrank until it was almost unbearable. His voice dropped an octave, almost serious this time. “Or maybe you don’t hate me as much as you pretend.”

She swallowed the tightness rising in her throat. “I don’t pretend anything. I say exactly what I mean.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked down to her lips for the briefest second before locking with hers again. “So when you call me insufferable, you mean it. And when I say you’re sexy when you’re mad… I mean that, too.”

Her breath caught. Just for a second. Just enough for him to know.

Then he stepped back with a wink, like he hadn’t just dismantled her whole afternoon with a smile and a few maddening words.

“See you at dinner, Trouble.”

And just like that, he was gone—back to the boys, laughing as if none of it had happened. As if he hadn’t just left her heart racing in his wake.

Y/N sank back onto the lounger, eyes drifting out toward the sea, trying to ignore the heat pooling low and the erratic rhythm pounding through her veins.

This vacation was supposed to be a break. A reset.

But Joe Burrow had a way of turning everything into a game of one-upmanship.

The problem now?

The rules were changing.

Less clothing. No expectations. Fewer people around to intervene.

And all that tension—years of it—was starting to feel like something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Something delicious.

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The villa was quiet—too quiet for a house full of young, restless people on vacation. The kind of quiet that felt less like peace and more like the calm before a storm. Y/N stepped lightly into the open-concept kitchen, still clad in her bright orange bikini top and loose, linen pants that fluttered gently with each step. Her skin still glistened with droplets of pool water, catching the soft overhead light. She was on a simple mission: find a snack, steal a moment of solitude, maybe reclaim a sliver of peace.

But what she found instead was Joe.

He stood at the fridge, shirtless, the faint sheen of sweat clinging to his broad shoulders from some recent workout or sprint. His posture was casual, as if the house—and the entire damn island—belonged to him. One leg propped up against the counter, a bottle of water dangling from his fingers. His sun-bleached curls were still damp, and that familiar, infuriating smirk played on his lips.

He turned just as Y/N stopped in the doorway, his eyes lighting up with that signature mixture of cocky amusement and something unreadable.

“Don’t worry,” Joe said without looking away from the fridge, voice smooth and teasing, “I didn’t finish the last mango slices. Thought you might come stomping in demanding ‘equal fruit rights.’”

Y/N blinked once, caught off guard. “Wow. You always talk this much when no one’s asking?”

He took a deliberate, slow sip of water, lips curling into a grin. “Only when I know it pisses you off.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped around him, reaching for the Tupperware on the counter. Her hand brushed his damp arm, and a quick jolt shot through her like she’d just touched a live wire. She jerked her hand back reflexively.

Joe caught the movement and raised a brow. “So jumpy.”

“Maybe I just don’t like being touched by sweaty quarterbacks with God complexes,” she shot back, voice sharp.

He leaned against the counter, smirking like he owned the moment. “Please. You’ve been looking at me like a snack all week.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’ve been looking at you like a hazard label Burrow.”

His grin widened, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Careful, Y/N. You keep saying my name like that, and someone might start thinking you’re catching feelings.”

She slammed open the Tupperware lid with a flourish. “You’re not even the best-looking one here.”

Joe’s brow shot up. “Oh? Who is?”

“Malik,” she said, popping a slice of mango into her mouth.

Joe laughed—a deep, throaty sound that twisted something inside her, something she wasn’t ready to admit. “Good to know I’ve got competition. I’ll be sure to flex harder next pool day.”

Y/N turned away, muttering under her breath, “Please don’t.”

He followed her steps over to the kitchen island, leaning across it like a predator who knew his prey wasn’t going anywhere.

“You always get this defensive when you’re into someone?” he asked, voice casual, teasing.

Y/N blinked, lips parting slightly between bites of mango, then narrowed her eyes. “You’re projecting.”

“I’m observant.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re glowing.”

The word caught her off guard. She froze for a fraction of a second.

Joe’s voice softened, losing that cocky edge, almost honest now. “You’ve been glowing since the moment we got here.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Don’t do that,” she said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Say shit like that and pretend it doesn’t mean anything.”

Joe tilted his head, curious. “What if I’m not pretending?”

Her breath hitched. She stepped back, heart pounding against her ribs like a warning drum. “Then you’re worse than I thought. Because you don’t get to push me one second and pull me in the next.”

For the first time that afternoon, Joe’s confident smile faltered, his eyes flickering with something like vulnerability.

“You think I’m pushing you?” he murmured, voice low, tight.

“You don’t see how you look at me? Like you’re daring me to cross the line.”

She met his gaze, jaw clenched tight.

“And maybe I am,” she admitted, voice barely more than a whisper. “Maybe I’m just waiting to see if you’re actually man enough to do it.”

They held each other’s eyes across the cool marble island, breaths shallow, chests rising and falling in sync with the charged silence between them.

Then, like a thunderclap shattering the moment, Chris walked in.

“Yo, y’all seen my speaker? I swear I left it out here—oh.” He froze, glancing back and forth between Y/N and Joe. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” they said simultaneously—too fast, too loud.

Chris blinked, confusion painting his face. Slowly, he backed toward the door. “Right… I’ll just… yeah.”

As the door clicked softly behind him, the silence thickened and grew electric once more.

Y/N turned sharply on her heel. “I need air.”

Joe’s voice followed her through the sliding glass doors onto the patio, rich and low. “Take all the time you want, princess. I’m not going anywhere.”

The breeze caught her hair as she stepped out into the fading light, heart pounding against her chest—not just from the heat, but from the way he made her feel. The villa might have been quiet, but inside, the storm was just beginning.

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It was past midnight, and the villa had finally settled into a rare stillness. The buzz of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the distant laughter that had filled the rooms all evening had dissolved into a hush. Ocean waves crashed rhythmically somewhere beyond the open balcony doors, their constant pounding a steady reminder of the wild world just outside the sanctuary. A ceiling fan hummed lazily in the living room, stirring the humid island air into a soft, comforting breeze. Most of the group had retreated to their bedrooms, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional creak of settling wood and the faint rustle of restless sleep.

Y/N padded barefoot into the kitchen, her steps light against the cool tile floor. She wore a cropped tank and soft cotton sleep shorts, her curls gathered loosely in a pineapple atop her head. She wasn’t even hungry; the kitchen was just the easiest place to be when your mind refused to shut off. Her thoughts buzzed, electric and relentless, still stinging from her earlier confrontation with Joe. Her skin felt charged, as if his words had left an imprint on her nerves.

She reached for a glass and filled it from the water dispenser, the cold liquid a brief anchor. Leaning against the counter, she let the cool tile press into the backs of her thighs, hoping to calm the heat rising inside her.

“Could’ve sworn I just saw a ghost.”

The voice cut through the quiet like a knife, smooth and smug, perfectly familiar.

Y/N didn’t bother turning around. “Should’ve just kept walking.”

Joe stepped fully into the room, bare-chested as always, the dim light tracing the lines of his sweat-damp muscles. His gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, and a half-drunk bottle of water dangled loosely from one hand. He looked effortlessly golden, like he’d been carved from sunlight and sass. Unbothered. And God, how much she hated that about him.

“I figured the kitchen was neutral territory,” he said casually.

“Only if you’re not breathing,” she muttered.

He smirked, the expression that both infuriated and intrigued her. “You always this hostile when you’re wearing pajama shorts?”

She turned slowly to face him, one brow arching. “You always this irritating when there’s no one else around to witness it?”

His grin deepened. “I think you like it.”

“I think you’re delusional.”

Joe took a deliberate step closer. Just one. Not enough to cross the line, but enough to tighten the space between them.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said low, voice teasing but laced with something else. “You gonna tell me what your real problem with me is?”

She crossed her arms, keeping her cool. “I already told you. You’re cocky. Arrogant. You walk into a room like it owes you something.”

Another step. Closer.

“And you walk in like everyone should drop to their knees just because you showed up.”

She snorted, a short laugh that was half-mockery, half-defiance. “Please. You wish.”

Now he was right in front of her, just the width of the counter separating their bodies. His voice dropped to a dangerous, smooth murmur.

“No, Y/N. You wish.”

Her heart skipped a beat—once, twice.

“And what exactly do I wish?” she challenged, folding her arms tighter.

Joe tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief and something raw beneath the surface. “That you'd give in.”

She scoffed, incredulous. “To you?”

He shrugged casually, like the idea was no big deal. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.”

“That’s not what your eyes said earlier.”

Y/N gripped the edge of the granite counter, nails pressing into the cool stone to keep herself grounded. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Joe’s voice softened to velvet, nearly a whisper now. “I have to be, because you’re full of something else—lies, maybe. Or denial.”

“You think you know me?” she asked, stepping forward, chest nearly brushing his. Heat radiated off him in waves.

“I know you like a challenge.”

“I know you like being a problem.”

His mouth twitched into a slow, knowing smile. Breath feathered just above her lips.

“Maybe I like being your problem.”

Her eyes flicked down—just a moment—to the curve of his mouth. A mistake.

His smirk deepened, cocky and confident. “You gonna hit me? Or kiss me?”

She gritted her teeth. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Too late.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and electric. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, a frantic rhythm she couldn’t control. His gaze traced the line of her jaw, dipped to her lips, and held.

Suddenly, Y/N stepped back, breaking the tension. “Goodnight, Joe.”

He didn’t stop her. Didn’t reach out. Just watched, an unreadable look in his eyes as she walked away.

But his voice followed her through the quiet villa, soft and sure.

“Eventually, princess,” he said just loud enough for her to hear, “you’re gonna stop running.”

Y/N didn’t look back.

But if his smirk could have spoken, it would’ve said everything.

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The villa was still wrapped in the quiet of early morning when Y/N finally woke. The world outside was just beginning to stir, the first gentle brush of light stretching across the horizon in slow, deliberate strokes. Coral pink melted into soft lavender, bleeding into a deep, golden orange that kissed the edges of drifting clouds like they’d caught fire overnight. The air was cool and fresh, still holding the crispness of night but carrying the unmistakable promise of heat to come.

She lay still for a moment, letting the hush settle around her like a soft shawl—an unspoken permission to linger in this peaceful pause before the day demanded attention. Her room was cool, the curtains pulled back just enough to frame the breathtaking sunrise like a painting hung especially for her.

Glancing over, she saw Londyn still asleep, curled beneath the soft sheets, the slow rise and fall of her chest steady in the early light. Y/N shifted carefully, unwilling to disturb her. She slipped quietly from the bed, bare feet brushing the cool tile floor with practiced ease.

The early morning hush wrapped around her like a protective layer—no noise from the others, no playful teasing, no smirks from Joe. Just silence. Just space. Just her.

In the small bathroom, she dressed wordlessly, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound. A black triangle bikini—simple and sleek—settled against her skin, the kind of black that gleamed with hints of blue when hit by the sun. She pulled a loose, cropped rash guard over it, slate gray, knotted at her waist, sleeves pushed up just past her elbows. The fabric was light, perfect for a morning by the sea.

She stepped back and gathered her curls into a high, effortless puff—half-tamed, half-wild. Reaching for the leave-in conditioner, she spritzed just enough to tame the frizz, fingers working slowly and deliberately through the thick coils. Her reflection caught the soft gold of the sunrise spilling through the window, framing her face with a quiet radiance. She looked like she belonged to this morning, to the gentle warmth, to the ocean itself.

Quietly, Y/N stepped out onto the patio where her surfboard leaned against the wall, the wax cool and textured beneath her fingertips. The fins were already prepped, the leash coiled neatly, the fresh wax lines promising traction and glide. She’d been waiting for this moment all night—this chance to escape into the waves, to lose herself in the rhythm of the ocean.

Her feet sank slightly into the soft white sand as she made her way toward the beach, the grains cool and inviting beneath her toes. The shoreline stretched out before her, deserted except for a few early gulls dipping low over the tide, their calls sharp and free. The breeze stirred the palms lining the coast, carrying the salt tang of the sea mixed with a subtle sweetness from the tropical blooms near the villa.

The waves rolled in slow and steady, soft peaks that held just enough curve to carve a perfect ride. The ocean was calm, welcoming.

She waded in slowly, water lapping gently at her legs, the coolness a sharp contrast to the warmth already building in the air. One arm cradled her board, steady as she moved past the breakers. When she paddled out beyond the white foam, the world quieted down to just the sound of her breath and the soft splash of water. Time slipped away, replaced by the endless pulse of the tide beneath her.

No Joe. No snarky comments, no heated looks, no unspoken challenges simmering beneath every word.

Just the ocean. Just the waves. Just Y/N.

Her heartbeat slowed, settling into the same steady rhythm as the rise and fall of the sea. The salty breeze teased at her skin, and the sun climbed higher, warming her shoulders and casting sparkles across the water’s surface.

Here, she was nobody’s sister, nobody’s sparring partner, nobody’s conquest or annoyance. Here, there was no tension, no game to play.

She was simply Y/N.

Strong.

Sure.

Whole.

When Y/N finally emerged from the water nearly two hours later, the beach had transformed subtly under the growing light of day. Her hair was damp and wild, streaks of salt clinging to sun-kissed curls that tumbled messily around her shoulders. The ocean breeze tangled them further, whipping strands across her glowing cheeks and collarbones. Her skin held the warm flush of the sun, cheeks tinged a soft rose, and her limbs hummed with that unmistakable satisfaction—deep and whole—the kind only earned through movement, solitude, and moments that belonged entirely to her.

She padded barefoot up the sand toward the villa, the grains cool beneath her feet as she moved slowly, savoring the final taste of salt and sea on her skin. The world around her was beginning to stir.

Voices carried softly on the breeze—the low murmur of sleepy conversations, the familiar sound of laughter threading through the morning air. Somewhere close, the faint scrape of a speaker being set down, the first notes of a playlist drifting out, promising the start of something lively and loud.

Y/N reached the villa steps and paused, pulling a towel from her bag. She wrapped it around her shoulders, then shrugged it off to rub at her damp hair. The linen shorts she’d tossed in her bag earlier were soft and cool as she tugged them on, the fabric falling loosely around her thighs.

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement—the others gathering, stretching, waking fully to the day ahead. Chris’s familiar teasing voice floated up from the living room. “Alright, who’s ready for round two of this vacation chaos?”

Londyn laughed, her tone light and bright. “I swear, this trip is just getting started.”

Y/N smiled faintly but didn’t move toward them. Instead, she ducked into her room just as the noise outside grew louder, the sounds of plans being made, jokes exchanged, and the inevitable excitement of a group ready to seize the day.

She closed the door behind her softly, letting the cool shade wrap around her. Let them go. Let them be loud. Let them fill the house with energy and noise and all the wild anticipation she didn’t want to be a part of right now.

Because she’d already done what she came for.

She’d found peace. That rare, precious silence that hummed beneath the chaos.

She sat by the window for a moment, watching sunlight spill across the tiled floor in gold slivers. The quiet was a balm to her restless thoughts, a breath held just for herself.

But deep down, beneath the calm, a flutter of unease stirred. She didn’t know then how fragile this peace was. How quickly it might shatter.

Because on this trip—this tangled, unpredictable escape—nothing would stay quiet for long.

Not with Joe Burrow still out there, grinning like he owned the island, and the magnetic pull between them growing heavier with every passing moment.

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The villa was quiet. For once.

Y/N stirred slowly from her nap, the haze of the post-surf glow still lingering in her limbs. Her body ached in that deep, satisfying way—muscle-deep and honest—that only came after catching waves at sunrise. The ocean had given her something she hadn’t even realized she needed: silence. Space. Peace.

She shifted under the soft weight of the linen curtains, the muted light filtering through like a gentle reminder that the world outside was waking up, but here—inside—time still moved slower. Y/N pushed the covers off, the cool tile of the floor meeting her bare feet, grounding her. She wrapped herself in a thick towel, the edges still damp from her swim, her black bikini underneath clinging slightly to her skin.

The distant sounds of the group were faint, drifting through open windows and doors—laughs, the shuffle of feet on tile, the clatter of a paddleball being set up on the beach. The others had left for the day, eager for beach games, paddleball, maybe a little day drinking. But Y/N hadn’t joined them. She’d chosen this—this stillness, this solitude.

She moved quietly through the villa, careful not to disturb the lingering calm, and stepped out onto the patio.

The sun was climbing now, soft rays stretching across the pool’s shimmering surface, turning the water into liquid glass. The tropical breeze carried hints of salt and flowering jasmine, the island’s invisible signature.

And then she saw him.

Joe.

He was already there, sprawled out in one of the lounge chairs by the infinity pool, shirtless as usual. His gray athletic shorts hung low on his hips, the waistband slouching just so. Sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose, hand pushed up into those signature messy curls. Between his fingers, a lit blunt dangled, smoke drifting lazily into the warm morning air.

He looked up as she stepped outside. His eyes swept down her body slowly, deliberately, like he was cataloging every inch, every detail.

Y/N froze for a moment, caught off guard, then narrowed her eyes.

“Are you serious?” she asked, voice low but sharp.

Joe exhaled a smooth cloud of smoke, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good morning to you too.”

“You couldn’t go with the rest of them?” she pressed, stepping closer.

He shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Y/N crossed her arms, staying rooted to the spot. “I stayed behind for some peace.”

He took another hit, blowing out the smoke slowly. “And I stayed behind for some quiet.” His voice dropped into a teasing drawl. “Funny how we both failed.”

She rolled her eyes and stormed past him, deliberately choosing the lounger farthest from his. “Don’t talk to me.”

Joe laughed softly, the sound teasing. “Didn’t plan to. But you’re doing enough talking for both of us.”

Y/N dropped her towel with a dramatic huff, the black bikini underneath glistening faintly with salt and moisture. She settled onto the lounger, then grabbed the bottle of sun cream and began rubbing it into her legs with more force than necessary, the movement sharp, almost defensive.

Joe watched her over the rim of his sunglasses, amusement lighting up his eyes. “You always this grumpy after surfing, or am I just lucky?”

“Just you,” she snapped without looking up.

He smirked. “Cute.”

“Don’t.”

He didn’t stop, obviously enjoying the game. “You know, you walk around like you’re untouchable.”

Y/N’s head tilted slightly, still not meeting his gaze. “Uh-huh.”

“But then you spend all morning chasing waves like you’re trying to drown.”

She paused, her fingers halting their work for a second. “You been watching me surf?”

“I don’t have to,” he said easily. “You always come back like you left something out there.”

A long silence stretched between them. The kind that makes the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

Joe’s voice softened, losing its edge but keeping that teasing undercurrent. “What are you trying to escape out there, anyway?”

Y/N finally lifted her sunglasses, the bright sunlight catching the hard line of her gaze. Her expression was unreadable, guarded. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

Joe smiled slowly. “Yeah. Actually, I would.”

Her defenses flickered, if only for a moment. Her lips parted, searching for a retort, but nothing came.

The air shifted, heavy and charged.

“You always gotta mess with me?” she asked, quieter now.

“Do I mess with you?” Joe shot back, meeting her eyes with an unflinching stare. “Or do I just get under your skin because you hate that I see through the act?”

Her body tensed, a flicker of something raw flashing in her eyes. “I don’t have an act.”

Joe tilted his head, amused. “Yeah, you do.”

Suddenly, Y/N stood, heat rushing to her cheeks and neck. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Joe chuckled, leaning back in his chair, looking utterly relaxed. “You keep saying that, but here you are. Talking to me. Again.”

She scoffed. “Only because you’re in my space.”

“You’ve never complained about me being too close before.”

Turning to face him, her anger flared. “You think everything’s a joke.”

“No,” Joe said, voice steady, unexpectedly serious. “I think you want everything to be a joke. Because it’s easier than admitting this whole hate-me thing might be bullshit.”

His words hit like a wave—slow, inevitable, and crushing.

Y/N stared at him, cheeks burning, throat tight.

Then, with a dry laugh, she turned back toward the sliding glass door.

“I’m going inside.”

Joe’s voice followed her, low and challenging. “You always run when it gets too real?”

She didn’t look back.

But before the door shut behind her, her voice came, low and dangerous.

“I’m not running, Joe. I’m saving us both the trouble.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Leaving Joe alone with his blunt, the lingering curl of smoke, and the very real weight of something neither of them was ready to admit.

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The storm rolled in fast, like it had been waiting just beyond the horizon, biding its time. One moment, the sun was blazing—its harsh light beating down on the sand and palm fronds—then the sky cracked open with a deep, reverberating rumble. Clouds gathered swiftly, dark and swollen, like an ominous warning overhead. The wind picked up, whipping through the palms with a fierce urgency, tugging at stray beach towels, rattling the villa’s open doors and shaking loose bits of dried leaves.

Y/N had just started making her way back from the shoreline, the sand still cool beneath her bare feet, the salt air clinging to her damp skin. Her curls were heavy with salt and sun, tangled and wild in that perfect post-surf kind of way. The first fat drops of rain hit her bare shoulders, startling in their suddenness.

“Shit,” she muttered, arms instinctively wrapping around herself to guard against the chill and the surprise.

Behind her, the rest of the group had already packed up and scattered, their quick laughter and hurried footsteps echoing as they sprinted barefoot back toward the house. But Y/N wasn’t anywhere near the main stairs—she’d wandered farther down the property, toward the villa’s secluded lower side where the private cabana stood nestled just beyond the infinity pool. Built into the trees, it was cozy and half-open, draped with gauzy white curtains that fluttered wildly now in the rising wind. Thick cushions lay scattered on the daybed inside, perfect for lounging beneath the stars—but hardly designed to shelter anyone from an unexpected tropical storm.

Still, it was closer than the villa.

She broke into a quickened pace, sprinting up the stone path, feeling the raindrops multiply, cold and heavy against her skin. Just as the downpour exploded in earnest around her, she slipped inside the cabana, pulling the curtain closed behind her with a sharp snap to keep the worst of the rain at bay.

Safe. For now.

But the relief was fleeting.

Y/N spun around—and stopped cold.

Joe was already there.

He was lounging against the daybed, shirtless as usual, his skin gleaming damply from the ocean. His gray shorts clung to his hips, and a towel hung lazily over his shoulders. In one hand, he held his phone, scrolling idly, the other draped casually at his side. His gaze lifted when she entered, one eyebrow quirking in amused surprise as the storm swallowed the world outside.

“You’re kidding me,” Y/N breathed, still catching her breath.

Joe’s smirk was slow, lazy, unapologetic. “You always find a way back to me, don’t you?”

She shook out her curls, rainwater dripping down her neck and shoulders, and crossed her arms defensively. “Back to you? Please. If I’d known you were in here, I would’ve risked the lightning.”

He chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “You say that like I’m some kind of threat.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “Get over yourself.”

Joe stretched an arm, patting the open space next to him on the daybed, not even bothering to move. “We’re gonna be stuck here a while. Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

She bit back a retort, unwilling to give in. “I’d rather stand.”

He looked her over slowly, that same smug grin curling at his lips. “Suit yourself.”

The storm settled in around them, relentless now—rain hammering against the cabana’s roof, thunder rolling and echoing across the island like a primal drumbeat. The air grew thick with humidity, charged with an electricity that seemed to hum louder between them than in the storm itself.

Y/N’s skin prickled, nerves tingling in a way she hadn’t expected. A gust of wind swept through the cabana, yanking one of the curtains open with a sudden flap. Without thinking, she reached up and tied the curtain closed, her arm brushing lightly against Joe’s shoulder as she leaned forward.

He didn’t flinch.

“You always this tense around me?” Joe asked, voice lowered—soft but sharp.

She turned her head slowly, eyes flashing with something fierce. “You always this in love with your own voice?”

He laughed—a low, easy sound that slipped through the storm’s roar. “Nah. I just love how defensive you get every time I’m near you.”

“Defensive?” She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “You mistake boundaries for being defensive.”

Joe’s gaze locked on hers, unblinking. “And you mistake fear for dislike.”

That caught her off guard.

She turned fully to face him, the heat between them crackling and electric.

“Fear?” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

Joe stepped closer, voice dropping to a low murmur. “I think you’re afraid of what happens if you stop pretending you hate me.”

Her chest tightened and her heart did a reckless little flip.

He stood there, calm, deliberate—towering just inches from her. She didn’t back away.

“If I didn’t hate you,” she said, voice cool but steady, “I’d still find you annoying.”

“And if I didn’t think you were a spoiled, impossible brat,” Joe whispered, eyes locking with hers like a challenge, “I’d have fucked you by now.”

Her breath hitched, the storm fading into white noise behind the sudden sharp pulse between them.

Thunder rumbled again, deeper this time, shaking the cabana with a primal energy.

“Fucked me?” she breathed, fighting the way her pulse jumped. “Why haven’t you, then? Scared I’ll bite?”

Joe’s voice was a near-whisper now, thick with unspoken promise. “I want you to bite.”

Silence stretched—tense, fragile, heavy—until it felt like it might snap under the weight of everything left unsaid.

Y/N stared at him, every nerve alive, every muscle taut with anticipation. The rain made everything outside feel distant—like the world had shrunk down to just the two of them, caught in this charged, suspended moment.

Slowly, Joe leaned in, his mouth hovering just inches from hers.

But he didn’t close the distance. Didn’t kiss her—not yet.

Instead, his breath feathered over her lips as he murmured, “Tell me to back off. Say you don’t want this.”

Her lips parted slightly. Her body screamed to close the gap, to take the leap, to finally surrender.

But instead, she stepped back. Barely. Just enough to break the spell.

“I think the rain’s letting up,” she said, voice steady but her heart pounding like a drum.

Joe exhaled slowly, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickering across his features. “So that’s a no?”

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes flicking down to his mouth for a heartbeat longer than she meant to.

“It’s a not yet.”

And then, without another word, she slipped out of the cabana, barefoot and flushed, disappearing into the soft rain like a challenge—one Joe was damn well going to have to answer.

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By the time Y/N finally made her way back to the villa, the storm had softened to a gentle drizzle, the rain’s ferocity replaced by a steady, quiet tapping against the roof and the tiled patio. The sun, hesitant but persistent, was beginning to edge out from behind thick, smeared gray clouds, casting a soft, diffused light that made the wet world glisten with a fresh kind of promise. The air hung heavy and warm, saturated with the scent of wet earth, salty ocean spray, and the lingering heat of the day—thick and almost overwhelming, like her thoughts.

She paused for a moment on the stone step, taking it all in—the smell, the dampness clinging to her skin, the way the humidity made her curls coil tighter at the nape of her neck. Her muscles still hummed from the earlier surf, and her heart was beating a little faster than usual, tangled up in the memory of the storm and the sharp, electric tension in that cramped cabana.

Then, quietly, almost reverently, she slipped inside.

The villa was alive with its usual post-storm energy, but somehow it felt like nothing had changed. No one had even noticed she’d been gone—no questions, no teasing, no worried looks. The kitchen was buzzing with music, a soft reggae track with mellow beats that mingled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. The guys were setting up drinks on the outdoor bar, flipping bottles and mixing cocktails like the storm had been nothing more than a passing annoyance.

And then she saw him.

Joe.

He had followed minutes later, slipping in almost unnoticed. His shirt was back on now, the damp curls sticking to his forehead, his shorts still clinging a little wet. A water bottle was cradled loosely in one hand, but it was the way his eyes found her that made her pause—like a reflex he couldn’t control, like a silent admission she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear.

Their eyes met just for a fraction of a second—brief but charged—and Y/N caught it out of the corner of her eye as she passed down the hallway. There was something unsaid, heavy and electric, hanging between them like an invisible thread pulling taut.

Neither of them spoke.

Not then. Not now.

She kept walking, heart hammering, the air thick with everything that had almost happened—and everything they both knew was still waiting.

Joe didn’t follow her, but his gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing the curve of her neck, the line of her jaw, the way her damp hair caught the light.

And in that silent exchange, the world between them grew louder than any words could be.

Y/N moved through the living space with measured steps, damp curls brushing against her bare shoulders. The floor beneath her feet was cool and solid, grounding her. She let the door to her room close softly behind her and leaned for a moment against the frame, catching her breath.

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That night, the villa was alive again, humming with a different energy. The storm had passed hours ago, leaving behind a sky thick with stars and a breeze that carried the salty tang of the ocean. The balcony was bathed in a soft, golden glow from the lanterns strung overhead, their light casting warm pools onto the wooden floorboards. Music thumped low in the background—a steady, rhythmic pulse that seemed to breathe life into the night.

Laughter bounced off the walls, carefree and loud, as if the storm and everything it brought with it had been nothing more than a bad memory. Glasses clinked, voices rose in teasing challenges, and the clatter of ice in tumblers mixed with the occasional shout from the guys daring each other to feats of ridiculous bravery.

Y/N sat beside Londyn on one of the wide, cushioned benches pushed against the railing, the fabric soft and cool beneath her bare arms. In her hand, a brightly colored cocktail swirled with crushed ice and a tiny paper umbrella. She took slow, deliberate sips—more out of habit than thirst—as she nodded along to whatever story Chris was spinning, his hands slicing through the air with animated exaggeration.

But her focus wasn’t really on him. No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept drifting—again and again—to the other side of the balcony.

To him.

Joe stood a few feet away, casually leaning against the railing, a glass of amber liquid cradled in one hand. His posture was relaxed but deliberate, the kind of easy confidence that made it impossible to look away. He was deep in conversation with Malik and Cam, his voice low, the way he laughed soft but genuine. Yet every so often, just like Y/N, his eyes would break away from the group, scanning the balcony until they found her.

It wasn’t obvious. There was no smirk this time, no teasing glance or cocky grin lighting up his face. He didn’t throw her a line or flash that aggravating, knowing smile she was so used to. Instead, he just looked. Quietly. Intently.

Like he was waiting.

Still waiting.

And that subtle patience rattled her more than she wanted to admit.

Y/N pulled her legs up onto the cushion, curling into herself, tucking her knees close like a shield. She let the heat rise to her cheeks and tried to hide it behind her glass, pretending to study the tiny umbrella spinning lazily in the condensation. She could feel Londyn’s eyes on her—steady and curious—before a gentle nudge to her ribs brought her back.

“You good?” Londyn asked, her voice soft but direct.

Y/N blinked and forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she said too fast, too sharply, as if saying it louder would make it true.

“Mhm,” Londyn murmured knowingly, not buying it for a second. “You’ve looked like you’ve been in a trance since the rain stopped. Like you’re somewhere else entirely.”

Y/N didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was spinning in circles, replaying the moments she had just lived—and the ones she hadn’t.

She could still feel the heat of Joe’s breath near her mouth, the almost imperceptible shift in his tone when his voice had gone low, serious, like the teasing mask had slipped away and something real had peeked through.

It would’ve been so easy to give in.

To close the gap and let the night swallow every word of caution.

And God, she almost had.

Her fingers tightened around the glass, knuckles white beneath the soft glow of the lanterns.

Because what she wanted to admit—what she wanted more than anything—was that maybe the line between hate and something dangerously close to desire wasn’t as clear as she’d convinced herself.

But for now, she sat quiet, the pulse of the music and the hum of voices swirling around her like a secret she wasn’t quite ready to share.

Later that night, after most of the group had retreated to their rooms, the villa had settled into a softer kind of quiet. The laughter and chatter had faded, replaced by the occasional distant murmur of late-night conversations or the faint clink of bottles being set aside. Y/N slipped away from the fading warmth of the living room and stepped out onto the lower patio alone, the cool night wrapping around her like a secret.

She tugged the hoodie tighter over her tank top, the fabric a comforting barrier against the lingering dampness in the air. In her hand, her phone glowed dimly, its screen a small island of light in the darkness. The breeze was gentle now—soft and salty, carrying the scent of the sea and the earth after rain. The storm had washed the sky clean, leaving it stretched wide above her, a deep, velvety black sprinkled with stars that shimmered like scattered diamonds above the swaying palms.

Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp air, trying to breathe in peace and exhale the tangled mess of thoughts swirling inside her.

She needed space—distance—from him, from the weight of whatever they were becoming. The tension that had coiled between them all day, the pull she could no longer ignore.

Leaning back against the smooth wooden railing, she let herself relax for a moment. The quiet felt fragile, precious.

Then—

The sliding door behind her whispered open.

She didn’t have to look.

She knew.

“Figured I’d find you out here,” Joe said softly, stepping close enough for his presence to press against her skin like a silent question. His voice was different now—less cocky, less teasing. It held warmth, and something steadier, deeper.

Y/N didn’t turn around. She kept her gaze fixed on the darkened horizon where the ocean met the night. “Guess we’re still magnetically cursed,” she muttered, voice low, almost to herself.

He came to stand beside her, close but careful, not touching. Just enough so she could feel the space between them shrink, the air crackling.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath with them.

Finally, Joe broke the silence. “I meant what I said,” he said, voice calm but full of quiet intensity. “Back there. In the cabana.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “I figured.”

He shifted, his profile outlined by the faint glow of the villa’s outdoor lighting. “You gonna keep pretending none of this is real?”

She slowly turned to face him, the shadows playing over her face, her eyes sharp but hesitant. “It doesn’t have to be real, Joe. Maybe it was just the storm. The heat. A moment.”

His mouth twitched—a half-smile, a flicker of something unspoken. “Then why haven’t you stopped thinking about it?”

Her breath caught. She froze under the weight of that question because the answer was too true, too raw.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

He was right.

But the words stuck in her throat.

Instead of answering, she pushed off the railing, stepping back from the edge and turning away.

“Goodnight, Joe,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady.

He didn’t move to stop her.

Nor did he reply.

He just watched her walk away—her silhouette illuminated by the soft porch light—his hands clenched at his sides, heart pounding hard as if he’d run headfirst into a storm far fiercer than any weather could bring.

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Night had settled over the villa like a velvet curtain, the stars scattering across the sky in pinpricks of silver. The villa’s back patio was alive with soft laughter, flickering candlelight, and the low hum of music weaving through the salty air.

Everyone had migrated outside after dinner—wine glasses in hand, barefoot, sunk into plush patio cushions and oversized loungers around a large teakwood table. There were lanterns and string lights overhead, and the scent of grilled pineapple and lime lingered in the air.

It was Chris, unsurprisingly, who suggested the game. “Alright, alright. Let’s shake the night up a little,” he said, grinning like the chaos agent he was. “Truth or Dare. But let’s make it adult. If you don’t want to answer, you drink. If you don’t want to do the dare? Drink twice.”

Groans, laughs, and a few “oh nooo”s rippled through the group.

Y/N sat cross-legged on a floor cushion, her long legs glinting under the soft light, curls piled on top of her head, a glass of sangria in hand. She wasn’t buzzed yet, but the warmth in her chest told her it wouldn’t take much.

Of course, Joe was directly across from her. Reclined, smug, arms resting behind his head like he owned the villa and the Caribbean. His eyes caught hers and stayed there just long enough for her to feel it in her gut.

She looked away first.

Chris clapped his hands. “Let’s go in a circle. Londyn, you’re up. Pick your target.”

Londyn, already tipsy and devious, didn’t even pause. “Y/N.”

Y/N groaned dramatically. “Wow, I see how it is.”

“Truth or Dare?” Londyn grinned, eyes gleaming.

“Truth.”

Londyn leaned forward like a predator. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone in this group?”

Y/N blinked, then smirked. “Absolutely not.”

“Not even a little?” Londyn pressed.

“Nope. Not even a fantasy. I have standards.”

The group laughed, and Y/N’s eyes darted—just briefly—to Joe, who raised one eyebrow and sipped his beer slowly, watching her over the rim.

Your move.

“Alright,” Y/N said, recovering smoothly. “My turn.”

She scanned the group, ignoring Joe at first—intentionally—before landing on him like a heat-seeking missile. “Burrow.”

He grinned. “Truth.”

“Have you ever hooked up with a teammate’s sister?”

Chris groaned. “Hey!”

Everyone laughed, and Joe’s eyes flicked to Y/N with pure mischief. “Not yet.”

The group lost it. Groans, hoots, someone even dropped their drink.

Y/N blinked, eyebrows lifting in surprise before she scoffed, face heating as she rolled her eyes.

“Cocky much?”

“Just answering the question,” Joe said with a shrug. “You asked.”

“Ugh,” Y/N muttered, taking a sip of her drink to cool the flush rising up her neck.

The game rolled on—more dares, more truths, more drinks. Someone dared Londyn to do a body shot off her boyfriend. Chris admitted to crying during The Notebook. There was an arm-wrestling dare that ended in spilled tequila and a lot of yelling.

But the real game was being played in glances.

In the way Joe’s eyes lingered too long. The way Y/N’s legs shifted under his gaze. The way their banter had gone from jabs to something darker, deeper. More aware.

And then it circled back.

Joe looked across the table at Y/N, resting his elbow on the cushion, fingers lazily tracing the rim of his beer bottle. “Your turn, Trouble. Hit me.” he said. “Truth… or dare?”

Her eyes narrowed.

The group leaned in.

“Dare,” she said coolly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hesitation.

Joe’s smile was slow, dangerous—like the sun rising over open water, steady and unstoppable.

“I dare you,” he said, voice wrapping around her like silk and heat, “to give someone in this circle a lap dance.”

The reaction was instant. Screaming. Cackling. Gasps.

Chris groaned. “Bro, what? That’s my sister!”

Joe just raised a hand. “I didn’t say me. She can pick anyone.” But his eyes? His eyes never left her.

Y/N blinked. She wasn't drunk enough for this. But the adrenaline rushing through her veins said she wasn’t backing down, either.

“You’re a menace,” she muttered.

“I just follow the rules,” Joe said, the ghost of a grin on his face. “And I dare you.”

She took a long, slow sip from her drink. The sangria was sweet and cold, and it gave her just enough nerve to lift her chin and say, “Fine.”

The group whooped.

“Oh no, she said fine—this is happening!”

Y/N stood, slow and deliberate. She glanced around at the circle, locking eyes with a few friends who suddenly looked very nervous they’d be chosen.

But when her gaze fell back on Joe, lingering for a second longer than necessary, something in the air tightened.

She walked over—not to Joe, but to Chris’s teammate Malik, who immediately choked on his beer.

“Don’t make it weird,” she said with a grin, already moving to the music that had kicked up just enough to make the moment feel real. A sultry beat thrummed from the speaker nearby—something low, smooth, and filled with just enough bass.

The lap dance itself was playful. Just enough hips, just enough tease to send the group into hysterics. Malik kept his hands in the air like he was being held at gunpoint. “I’m respecting boundaries, I swear!” he shouted through laughter.

But Joe?

Joe didn’t laugh.

He watched. Jaw tight. Thumb slowly running along the condensation of his beer bottle. His eyes didn’t flicker from her—not even once. Not when her hips rolled, not when her shirt slipped off one shoulder, not when she threw a glance over her shoulder just to see if he was watching.

He was.

When she was finished, she dropped into a mock curtsy. Malik fanned himself dramatically.

“I feel like I need to Venmo you for that,” he joked.

Y/N just laughed and made her way back to her seat.

But she didn’t sit.

She walked right back to Joe. Stopped in front of him. Leaned down—close enough that he could smell her perfume and salt skin—and whispered so only he could hear:

“Jealous looks good on you, Burrow.”

Joe’s jaw flexed. “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure you’re not.”

She turned to walk away, but his hand brushed against hers as she passed—just for a moment.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

The game moved on, but the fire didn’t die down. Not between them.

Something had changed again. Something sharp and tempting.

The next time their eyes met, there was no pretense of hate. Just heat.

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The sun had melted into the horizon nearly an hour ago, leaving behind a purplish haze streaked with deep indigo and the faintest flickers of gold—a last breath of day surrendering to the approaching night. The villa glowed softly in the dusky light, its warm yellow lamps flickering like fireflies against the encroaching darkness. The Caribbean twilight breathed a slow, sensual rhythm over the landscape, and the gentle rustle of palm fronds whispered secrets in the breeze.

Y/N floated on her back in the still, glassy pool, the cool water soothing against the warmth her skin had gathered from hours beneath the sun. The submerged pool lights cast a gentle turquoise glow, wrapping her in an otherworldly shimmer. Her curls fanned out around her head like a dark halo, drifting weightlessly with the rhythm of the water.

Nearby, Londyn lounged on a bright pink inflatable, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, a drink cradled in one hand. Her oversized sunglasses were pushed back into her voluminous curls, despite the fact that the sun had long since dipped below the horizon.

The night felt easy. Breezy. Calm. At least, on the surface.

“I swear,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely rising above the water’s soft lap, “I don’t know if I wanna go out tonight. I’m still tired from last night’s truth or ego death game.”

Londyn laughed, tilting her glass with a sly grin. “You mean the one where Joe practically undressed you with a dare?”

Y/N groaned, splashing lightly at the water. “God, don’t remind me. I should’ve picked truth. I forgot that man has no boundaries.”

“Oh, he has boundaries,” Londyn said, raising a brow playfully. “He just likes breaking yours.”

Y/N sighed, letting her head sink a little beneath the water before resurfacing. “He’s… exhausting.”

Londyn smirked knowingly. “Uh-huh. And yet your eyes have found him every five minutes since we got here.”

Y/N flicked her gaze sideways, voice dry, “I have peripheral vision. And trauma.”

“Mm-hmm,” Londyn said with mock seriousness, “It’s giving sexual tension with enemies-to-lovers potential. But hey, I’m just the observer here.”

Before Y/N could respond, a burst of deeper voices drifted down from the upper balcony—the unmistakable sounds of the guys. Chris, Malik, Zane, and, of course, Joe. They were gathered there, the faint scent of a joint weaving through the warm air.

Chris’s booming laughter echoed across the courtyard, Malik telling some outrageous story that had them all howling, and Joe’s unmistakable low voice cut through, dry and teasing, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like mischief.

Y/N glanced up, just for a second.

Joe was leaned casually against the railing, one arm propped behind him, a lit joint dangling from his fingers. His head tilted back slightly, as if he were staring up at the stars, lost in some careless reverie. The villa’s golden lights warmed his skin, highlighting the planes of his chest and the loose curl of damp hair falling across his forehead.

And somehow, despite all that, he was watching her.

Their eyes met.

Not with the usual smirk or a roll of the eyes.

Just... a look.

A long, easy moment where neither of them looked away first.

Londyn nudged Y/N sharply with an elbow.

“Girl.”

“What?” Y/N snapped, cheeks tightening.

“I saw that.”

Y/N turned quickly, scowling. “You saw nothing.”

“I saw a mutual eye undressing. That man’s soul just took its shirt off,” Londyn teased, laughing quietly.

Y/N dunked her head under the water, then surfaced with a splash, shaking out her curls and wiping them back with her hands.

“I’m ignoring it,” she said, voice firm but playful. “Whatever it is. He’s just... antagonistic.”

“Mmm,” Londyn mused, eyes twinkling. “Antagonizing your lower half, maybe.”

Y/N didn’t reply.

Because honestly? She wasn’t entirely sure how to name what Joe was doing lately.

It wasn’t just teasing. It wasn’t just annoying. It wasn’t even the casual flirting guys did when they were bored.

No.

It was sharper, hotter—like he meant it, but didn’t want her to know he did.

It was dangerous.

Trying to shake the thoughts loose, Y/N changed the subject.

“So what’s the actual plan for tonight?”

“Club in town,” Londyn answered, stretching her arms lazily above her head. “Chris says it’s right on the beach. DJ, fire pits, open air under the palm trees—the whole vibe. You’re coming.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” Y/N countered, smirking a little.

“Good,” Londyn said with a sly grin. “Because you need to wear that little black dress you packed. The one that shows off your legs—and your attitude.”

“I packed that to not wear around Joe.”

“Exactly. Which is why you need to.”

Y/N sighed, but it was the kind of sigh that held a secret smile. “You’re a bad influence.”

“I’m your best influence,” Londyn shot back.

Above them, the guys’ laughter and teasing continued, a playful soundtrack to the darkening sky.

The pool lights beneath Y/N glimmered against her skin, casting soft, shimmering patterns that made her feel both exposed and safe.

Tonight would be loud. Sweaty. Full of music and too many drinks.

And something deep inside her told her the tension between her and Joe—the electric undercurrent neither of them wanted to fully name—was about to break the surface.

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The villa was alive with energy.

Music pulsed through the halls, ricocheting off polished marble floors, slipping beneath doors, and threading between conversations like a heartbeat. Doors slammed in rapid succession—some with purpose, others in frustration—while the sharp staccato of heels clicked down corridors like applause. Drawers were yanked open and slammed shut, zippers hissed, perfume bottles clinked on countertops. The air, thick and heavy with the scent of coconut oil, jasmine perfume, warm cologne, and anticipation, clung to the skin like silk.

It was the kind of night that buzzed in your bones.

Y/N stood barefoot on the cool tile of the guest room, facing the full-length mirror mounted to the closet door. The little black dress—the one she’d promised herself she wouldn’t wear—now hugged her body like a confession. It was the kind of dress that didn’t just fit; it knew her. Smooth, satiny, slipping over her curves with thin spaghetti straps that barely held on, and a draped cowl neckline that whispered scandal without shouting it. The hem kissed mid-thigh, short enough to make her question everything, tight enough to make her forget why.

Behind her, a soft gasp.

“Damn,” came Londyn’s voice from the doorway, smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous. She leaned against the frame with casual elegance, one hip cocked, the other wrapped in a sangria-colored jumpsuit that showed off more than it covered. Strategic cutouts revealed toned skin and just a hint of tattoo ink. Her curls were piled high, gold bangles sliding down her forearm as she folded her arms. “Joe’s going to combust when he sees you.”

Y/N met her gaze in the mirror, arching one brow. “That is not the goal.”

Londyn scoffed, stepping into the room as though she owned it. “Lying doesn’t suit you. Especially not when your lip gloss is literally called Heat Wave.”

Y/N turned back to the mirror with a sigh, brushing her fingers over the curve of her waist before adjusting her gold hoops. They caught the overhead light and glinted like secrets. “It’s not about him.”

“Right,” Londyn drawled, picking up a clutch from the dresser. “It’s about you looking like a walking thirst trap for self-care purposes. Got it.”

Y/N tried to suppress the laugh threatening her lips, but it bubbled up anyway—light and warm like the first sip of champagne.

She smoothed the front of her dress again, more for something to do than anything else. Her reflection stared back, eyes wide, lips glossed, cheeks just a little flushed. There was something different in the air tonight. Not just the sticky sweetness of the island heat, or the low hum of reggaeton from the speakers downstairs, but something beneath it. A pressure building, coiling. Like the quiet just before a storm cracks open the sky.

Maybe it was the tension she’d been pretending not to notice. Maybe it was Joe—his sideways glances, his fingers brushing hers when they passed the bottle of rum, the way his jaw tightened when she laughed too loud with someone else. Maybe it was the fact that she’d started to want those reactions.

Or maybe… maybe she just wanted to feel wanted again.

Y/N grabbed her lip gloss from the vanity and dabbed a bit more onto her bottom lip, tapping it in with her finger. “Let’s just get through the night without me throwing a drink in his face. That’s the goal.”

Londyn gave her a look that bordered on affectionate exasperation. “Or sitting in his lap again.”

A groan escaped Y/N’s throat before she could stop it. She turned from the mirror and flopped back onto the bed, the dress riding up even higher. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” Londyn said brightly, walking over to steal one of Y/N’s earrings from the tray. “Not when it’s my favorite memory of the trip so far.”

“That wasn’t even on purpose,” Y/N mumbled into a pillow.

“Oh, sure. You accidentally ended up straddling him in the middle of a truth-or-dare circle while everyone else mysteriously disappeared into the kitchen. Sounds totally accidental.”

Y/N sat up, cheeks burning. “I was drunk.”

Londyn waved that off like it was irrelevant. “So was he. But he didn’t exactly push you off, now did he?”

The silence that followed was short but loud.

Y/N looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “It’s complicated.”

Londyn’s voice softened. “Is it, though?”

Before Y/N could answer, a knock sounded at the door—three short taps, tentative. Then Joe’s voice, muffled but unmistakable. “You guys almost ready?”

Y/N froze.

Londyn raised an eyebrow and mouthed, combust, before sauntering toward the door with the grace of someone who had seen this play out before—and couldn’t wait for the encore.

“Coming!” she called back brightly, then turned and winked. “And so are you, probably.”

Y/N grabbed the nearest throw pillow and chucked it at her. “Get out!”

But she was laughing now, breathless and flustered and full of something dangerously close to hope.

Whatever tonight held, it was already burning at the edges.

And she was ready to walk straight into the fire.

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Down the hall, the bathroom was still wrapped in the humidity of a recent shower, steam curling along the edges of the mirror like ghosted breath. Joe stood shirtless in front of the sink, towel slung around his shoulders, water droplets trailing from the ends of his damp curls. He dragged the towel across the back of his neck one last time before tossing it aside and running a hand through his hair—half styling, half frustration.

His eyes flicked to his reflection. Jaw freshly shaved, curls soft and wild, a chain glinting faintly at his collarbone beneath the open top buttons of a fitted black shirt. The sleeves were rolled just enough to show forearm, the slim-fit pants hugging narrow hips and long legs. It was a clean, calculated kind of effortless.

He didn’t hear Chris until the bedroom door creaked open behind him.

“You wearing that?” Chris asked, already dressed in tailored navy slacks and a crisp white tee under a beige linen jacket. He was fiddling with the clasp on his watch, not looking up.

Joe turned slightly. “Why? Too much?”

Chris glanced at him through the mirror, then shrugged with a knowing smirk. “Nah. You just look like you’re trying to impress someone.”

Joe tilted his head, letting the corners of his mouth tug into a smile. “Maybe I am.”

Chris groaned, pointing a warning finger at him. “Don’t even say it. I already know who you mean. I don’t need the visuals, man. That’s my sister.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” Chris moved past him, grabbed his cologne from the dresser, and gave himself two quick sprays. “Just... keep it cool, alright? You two are already like a slow-motion car crash. Painful to watch, impossible to stop.”

Joe leaned against the doorway, his grin deepening. “And yet, she hates me so much she can’t stop looking at me.”

Chris rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing. They both knew it was true.

The air shifted then—something small, intangible. Joe felt it settle across his chest like weight and static. That same pressure he’d felt building all day, low and slow. Something was coming. Or maybe, someone.

He caught himself glancing down the hallway again, toward the direction of her room.

The thing about Y/N was she never just entered a space. She claimed it. Without trying, without speaking, without even knowing. She had that rare kind of gravity—pulling people in, spinning them around, leaving them dizzy and pretending they weren’t.

A few minutes later, they stepped out into the shared living space of the villa, where the rest of the group had already congregated. The bass-heavy playlist thumped from a speaker perched on the kitchen counter, setting a rhythm that reverberated through the tiled floors. Glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and the faint scent of lime and tequila hung in the air like a prelude to trouble.

Malik was pouring drinks, Londyn was touching up her lip liner in the reflection of a wine glass, and a few others danced lazily in the center of the room—more warm-up than performance.

Joe scanned the room casually, but his attention was half elsewhere. That feeling was back—the anticipation, the hum under his skin.

And then—

She walked in.

Time didn't stop, but it sure as hell slowed down.

Y/N rounded the corner like she owned it, hips swaying with an ease that had nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with self-assurance. Her black dress clung like a secret meant for a whisper, stopping just above the thigh, spaghetti straps framing bare shoulders, gold hoops catching every flicker of light. Her curls bounced with each step, her glossed lips curled in a faint, unreadable smile.

She didn’t look around for approval. She didn’t have to.

Joe’s chest went tight. His jaw flexed, subtle but not unnoticed.

Beside him, Malik took a sip of his rum and coke and nudged his shoulder. “You alright, bro?”

Joe didn’t answer. His gaze hadn’t shifted. His eyes were locked on her like gravity didn’t give him a choice.

She saw him—of course she did. Her eyes caught his across the room, holding for a second too long before she turned away with a casual indifference that was far too deliberate. Like he wasn’t worth the breath it would take to acknowledge him.

But Joe knew her better than that now.

He was fluent in Y/N’s brand of disdain-disguised-desire.

She drifted toward the bar cart without a word, her perfume—coconut, jasmine, and something that smelled dangerously close to nostalgia—wrapping around him like a memory. Joe followed, just a step behind, like a shadow she hadn’t shaken.

“Dressed up for the club,” he murmured, leaning in close, voice low and rough like gravel over silk. “Or just trying to get under my skin again?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even glance his way as she picked up the tequila, poured a generous shot, and tossed it back like it owed her something.

“You’re not that hard to get under,” she said coolly, licking the salt from the rim and then her bottom lip. “Just push your buttons and watch you twitch.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and laced with challenge. “You say that like you don’t love it.”

She set the glass down, finally meeting his gaze, her eyes dark and steady. “I love a lot of things.”

Pause. A beat thick with implication.

“You’re not on the list.”

He stepped in, close enough to feel her exhale, to see the way her pupils flared for just a fraction of a second.

“Not yet,” he said softly.

Her lips parted—maybe with a comeback, maybe with something else—but before the moment could tip over into something messier, louder voices cut through the tension.

“Alright, party people!” Chris clapped from across the room, drawing everyone's attention. “Vans are waiting outside. Let’s hit the club before Y/N changes her mind and starts judging our playlist again.”

“I will judge your playlist,” Y/N called back, smoothly shifting away from Joe, though not before brushing past him deliberately. “With my whole chest.”

People began gathering bags, sliding on heels, adjusting outfits in mirrors. The energy swelled again, chaotic and electric, the pre-club buzz at full tilt.

Y/N grabbed her phone from the counter, slid it into her clutch, and walked past Joe one final time, pausing just long enough to glance over her shoulder.

“You coming?” she asked, her voice light, almost teasing. “Or are you just gonna stand there and fantasize?”

Joe blinked once, jaw twitching as a smirk curved his lips.

He was already following.

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The club was alive—a throbbing, feverish organism made of sweat, smoke, music, and movement. It pulsed underfoot, around shoulders, between breaths. Heat pressed in from every direction, wrapping itself around the crowd like a second skin. Despite being open-air and perched along the edge of the beach, the ocean breeze barely made a dent in the haze of bodies swaying to the beat.

Palm trees lined the perimeter, their fronds backlit by a canopy of string lights that crisscrossed the ceiling in golden zigzags. Above the dance floor, spotlights cut through faint mist from the fog machine, strobes and colored filters turning the night into something dreamlike and cinematic.

The DJ towered above the crowd like a preacher on a pulpit, hands lifted in command as Afrobeat and Caribbean mashups bled seamlessly into each other, making hips roll and drinks spill with every bass drop. The rhythm wasn’t just heard—it was felt, deep in the chest, through the bones, in the curl of toes inside open-toed heels.

Y/N was on her second tequila sunrise, the glass slick with condensation, ice clinking softly between sips. Her hoops caught the light with every turn of her head as she danced in the center of their group beside Londyn, both of them glowing with sweat and joy and just a hint of chaos. Y/N’s black dress—already dangerous when she first slipped it on—now clung to her like it had been molded to every curve, every breath. She moved like the music lived in her, fluid and effortless.

Londyn spun, laughing, her sangria jumpsuit glittering under the club lights. “You better dance, girl!” she shouted, twirling toward Y/N and catching her by the wrist.

Y/N grinned, moving with her, hips circling to the rhythm, curls bouncing against her shoulders. The alcohol had warmed her veins, and the music had made her limbs loose, but even as she laughed and spun and let herself sink into the night…

She felt him.

He hadn't touched her. Hadn’t said a word.

But she felt him.

She didn’t have to look to know where Joe was. The gravity of his presence pulled at her nerves like magnets under skin. Her body knew before her mind did—spine going tight, breath catching in the base of her throat, a subtle shiver that had nothing to do with the breeze.

He was watching her.

Again.

Joe stood just outside their circle with Chris, Malik, and a couple of the others, casually sipping from a shared bottle of rum. One arm draped over the back of a lounge chair, the other curled loosely around the bottle, condensation dripping down onto his knuckles. His shirt, once crisp and fitted, now clung to his torso—damp with sweat, open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His curls had dried in loose, wild waves, falling over his brow in a way that made him look both relaxed and reckless.

But it was his eyes that made the air feel heavier.

They hadn’t left her all night.

He hadn't flirted. Hadn’t smirked. Hadn’t spoken.

And that—that was worse than anything else. Because it was deliberate. It was restraint. It was him letting her feel the full weight of his attention without doing a single thing.

And God help her, it was working.

Londyn leaned in, voice pitched low as the DJ faded into a transition. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, throat dry. “I know.”

Londyn raised an eyebrow. “You gonna dance with him? Or just keep pretending he doesn’t exist?”

“I haven’t decided,” Y/N replied, her voice more honest than she meant it to be. But her body had already made the call.

Her heart pounded in her ears, louder than the music. Louder than anything else.

Then the beat shifted.

The DJ let the tempo dip, trading speed for something slow and sultry. The first notes of “Essence” slid into the air like honey, and the entire club shifted with it. Movements slowed. Eyes found eyes. Hands found waists. The rhythm didn’t just call people to dance—it dared them to be bold.

Y/N swayed instinctively, letting the song take her. It was the kind of track that slipped under skin, that invited heat and tension and something like closeness but not quite touch.

And then—

He moved.

Joe handed his drink off to Chris without a word and stepped onto the edge of the dance floor. He didn’t rush. He didn’t strut. He just moved, like he had all the time in the world and none of it to waste.

Y/N felt him before she saw him. Her breath caught.

He stopped in front of her, just far enough for plausible deniability. Just close enough to undo her.

She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “You lost?”

Joe’s mouth curved, slow and smug. “You tell me.”

The chorus floated between them, blurring the crowd into nothing.

He didn’t touch her. Didn’t even reach.

He just moved with her. Subtle. Steady. A gentle rock of shoulders, his feet in time with the beat, his eyes locked on hers like she was the only one in the room. It was an invitation wrapped in silence. And he wasn’t begging her to take it.

He was daring her to.

The tension was unbearable.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, stepping closer, her body already aligning with his like they’d done this a hundred times.

It started as a tease. A slow sway. Her hips rolled in time with his, circling but never quite touching. Her hands hovered at her sides, deliberate in their distance. She wasn’t giving in—not yet.

Joe’s eyes dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes.

He still didn’t reach for her. But the energy between them crackled like live wire.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured, leaning in just enough to be heard, his voice gravel and honey against her skin.

Her smile was dangerous. “You think I’m scared of getting burned?”

His expression didn’t shift, but his eyes darkened. “No,” he said, finally stepping forward—just enough to let their bodies touch, chest to chest, hip to hip. “I think you want to see how hot it gets.”

Her breath hitched, sharp and involuntary.

Their movements slowed, hips in sync now, every sway a promise not yet kept. Joe’s hand hovered at her waist—still not touching, but close enough to make her ache. She could feel the warmth of him like sunlight through fabric.

Around them, the club blurred. Music, sweat, bodies, lights—it all faded. All she felt was the press of his chest against hers. All she saw were his eyes, heavy-lidded and burning.

“Still think I’m arrogant?” he asked, dipping his head until his mouth brushed the shell of her ear.

Y/N exhaled hard. “Still think I’m a spoiled brat?”

He laughed, low and wicked. “I think you’re dangerous.”

“Good.”

She turned before he could say more, walking away without looking back, her hips swaying like a challenge.

Joe stood there for a long second—jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. He watched her disappear into the crowd, the beat still thrumming through his ribs.

He hadn’t won.

Not yet.

But the game? The game was on.

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Y/N had just started to cool off.

Not physically—her skin was still warm with sweat, tingling from the press of bodies on the dance floor and the ghost of Joe’s breath against her collarbone. But mentally? She’d pulled back. Just enough to find the surface again. To breathe. To reclaim a little control before the heat between them dragged her under for good.

The crowd had shifted naturally, like tides around her, and now she stood near the bar tucked beneath a lazy, whirring ceiling fan. The breeze barely touched her damp skin, but it was enough to slow her heartbeat. A tall glass of ice water dripped condensation onto the back of her hand, and she held her phone up with the other, using the dark reflection of the screen to reapply her lip gloss. Routine. Familiar. A small ritual to ground herself.

Her heart still hadn’t settled. It was beating too fast, too loud, like her body hadn’t caught up to the lie she was trying to tell it.

Whatever had happened out there—on that dance floor with Joe—it had felt like a pivot point. Like something inside her had shifted without warning, dangerously close to something real.

Then—

“Excuse me.”

The voice was low. Smooth.

Y/N turned, blinking once before letting her expression settle into mild curiosity.

The guy was tall, easy on the eyes. Brown skin, a smile with just enough charm to disarm, and arms that suggested dedication in the gym. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing a glimpse of chest and a gold chain that caught the bar lights every time he moved.

“I saw you dancing earlier,” he said. “You had the whole floor pressed.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Is that your line?”

“Not usually.” He laughed, easy and warm. “But it’s the truth.”

He leaned a little closer, keeping a respectful distance that told her he knew how to read the room. “Can I get you a drink? Or is that guy you were dancing with gonna swing if I try?”

Y/N felt heat prickle up the back of her neck. Not from nerves—but from the quiet, hot awareness that Joe was watching her. She didn’t have to look to know. She felt it in her skin, the same way she’d felt it all night.

“He’s not my guy,” she said, voice steady.

The stranger grinned, eyes lighting up. “Even better. Then you’re not taken.”

She should’ve walked away. Should’ve taken the compliment, finished her water, found Londyn, and called it a night. But her pride was louder than her common sense.

Maybe it was petty.

Maybe it was toxic.

Or maybe it was just that Joe had made her feel too much too fast, and she needed to remind herself that she still had the upper hand.

So she smiled. Just a little. “I’ll take a rum punch.”

“Coming right up.”

As the man turned to flag the bartender, Y/N leaned against the bar and let herself be seen. She laughed a little too loudly. Let her fingers graze his forearm when he handed her the drink. Sipped slowly and maintained eye contact just long enough to suggest interest. She even let him guide her gently back toward the dance floor as the DJ shifted into a remix that vibrated through the soles of her feet.

She wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t careless.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

And so did Joe.

Across the club, he stood with Chris and Malik, his eyes glued to the scene in front of him. The bottle in his hand hung slack at his side, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack.

Malik caught the tension first, lifting an eyebrow. “She good?”

“She’s fine,” Joe said. The words came out clipped.

Chris followed his gaze—and groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings now.”

“I’m not.”

“Your face says otherwise, dawg.”

Joe didn’t answer.

Because watching her? Watching her laugh like that, all soft and easy, her hand on another man’s shoulder, swaying to the beat like she hadn’t just been pressed against him minutes ago?

It did something to him.

It burned.

And worse than that—he could see it in her eyes, the way she flicked them up to meet his through the crowd, just once. A tiny, smug, dagger-sharp glance. Daring him.

Let me go. Or do something.

Joe’s chest rose once, slow and deep. Then he handed the bottle off to Malik without a word and stepped forward.

He cut through the crowd with surgical precision. Didn’t rush. Didn’t scowl. Just moved like a man on a mission.

Y/N didn’t see him coming until he was there, slipping between her and the man in the gold chain like he belonged in that space—and had every intention of reclaiming it.

He didn’t touch her.

He didn’t need to.

He just looked at the guy, voice low and even. “You done?”

The man blinked, thrown. “I—uh…”

“She’s with me.”

Y/N’s brow rose slowly, sharp as a blade. “Excuse me?”

Joe still didn’t look at her. “Appreciate the drink. You can go now.”

The guy looked between them, confused but not interested in a scene. “Alright, man. Whatever you say.”

He turned and disappeared into the crowd, shaking his head.

Y/N stepped directly in front of Joe, arms crossed over her chest, fire in her eyes. “What the hell was that?”

Joe’s jaw flexed. “What are you doing? Dancing with him like that?”

“I didn’t realize I needed clearance,” she snapped. “Did you wanna pencil me into your schedule?”

He took a step closer, frustration radiating off him. His eyes dropped to her lips for half a second before locking back on hers. “You know what you were doing.”

“And so do you,” she shot back, voice rising. “You don’t get to flirt with me like it’s a game, then act like I’m supposed to sit in a corner and wait for you to figure out if you mean it.”

The music throbbed around them. The lights pulsed. The air buzzed like the space between lightning and thunder.

Joe stepped in—closer than before. His voice was low, almost rough. “I do mean it.”

The words hit her like a wave. Her breath caught, mouth parting on instinct.

Joe leaned in, mouth brushing just behind her ear. “You gonna keep pretending you don’t feel this too?”

Her stomach flipped.

She could lie to herself all day. Could convince everyone else that she was just playing the game.

But this?

This wasn’t a game anymore.

Y/N looked up at him slowly, eyes shining in the dim light. “You sure you’re ready for what happens if I stop pretending?”

Joe’s hand hovered near her hip. Still not touching.

But God—so close.

“I’ve been ready.”

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The bathroom was too small, too warm, too full of them.

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gotten there.

One moment, she’d been standing on the edge of the dance floor, staring up at Joe with her chest tight and her fingers clenched, the weight of everything unsaid pressing against her ribs. The next? His hand was in hers—firm, calloused, insistent—pulling her through the haze of music and lights like there was no turning back.

They’d slipped past the crowd, past the bar, through a shadowed hallway drenched in pulsing neon. The thud of bass had followed them like a heartbeat, fading with every step until—

Click.

The door shut behind them.

And suddenly, the world narrowed to four walls and him.

The music was muffled now, a low, thrumming pulse barely bleeding through the painted concrete. Fluorescent lights buzzed above them, harsh and unflattering, illuminating a room covered in graffiti, chipped tile, and fingerprints of strangers. One long mirror stretched across the sink wall, cracked slightly in the corner. The air smelled of citrus soap, cheap cleaner, and something else—something warm and familiar lingering in the space between them.

Joe leaned against the door, his chest rising slowly, his curls still damp from sweat, his lips parted just slightly. He said nothing. Just looked at her.

His gaze dragged down her body like he’d finally allowed himself to see her out loud. And Y/N felt it—all of it—like a match struck too close to skin.

She crossed her arms, if only to keep them from trembling. “You seriously dragged me into a bathroom?”

Joe’s mouth tugged into a slow, infuriating smirk. “You’re the one who couldn’t stop looking at me all night.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes, ignoring the burn in her cheeks. “You were orbiting me like some desperate planet with no gravity of its own.”

He pushed off the door, each step deliberate, measured. “You used to hate me.”

She tilted her chin, voice sharp. “I still kind of do.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth, then back up. “You sure about that?”

Y/N opened her mouth—probably to throw something smart and cutting—but the words never made it out.

Because he was right there now. Inches away. The air crackled between them, thick with something unsaid and impossible to ignore. Every nerve in her body lit up at once, screaming warnings she had no intention of obeying.

Joe reached up, fingers brushing the bare skin of her arm. Light. Questioning. He didn’t grab her—just hovered. Waiting for her to move. To lean away.

She didn’t.

She wasn’t sure she could.

Their lips collided.

There was nothing soft about it. Nothing tentative.

It was heat and hunger and years of unresolved tension crashing into one kiss.

He kissed her like he was claiming territory. Like her mouth was a dare he’d finally accepted. His hands found her waist, drawing her closer, pressing their bodies together in one messy, breathless line. She responded just as fiercely, fingers curling in his shirt, yanking him down like she was done pretending this didn’t matter.

Her back hit the bathroom counter with a muted thud. The edge bit into her hips, but she didn’t care. Joe’s hand flattened against her lower back, his hips anchoring her in place. They were all tongue and teeth and stifled gasps, the kind of kissing that erased everything except want.

Every insult, every near-miss, every petty fight over nothing at all—it was here, in this kiss. It was the chaos they’d danced around for years finally setting fire to itself.

And she wasn’t running from it.

Not anymore.

When she pulled back, her chest was rising too fast. Her lips felt swollen, her gloss long gone. Her hands were still twisted in his shirt, like her body hadn’t caught up with the fact that they'd stopped kissing.

Joe looked wrecked—in the best way. His curls wild. His lips red. His breath uneven. And his eyes?

His eyes were on fire.

He touched her face like he was trying to memorize it, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip with maddening slowness.

Then he grinned.

Not cocky.

Not cruel.

Just Joe—unapologetically smug.

“Funny,” he murmured, his voice a dark purr, “you used to hate me… and now you can’t take your eyes off me.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, breath still shallow, her fingers slipping from his collar to his chest. “No,” she said dryly, “I’m just watching your ego inflate in real-time. It’s like a science experiment.”

Joe laughed then—low, unguarded, a real sound that filled the room like it belonged there. And God, she hated that it made her smile.

“Keep talking,” he said, stepping closer again, eyes locked on hers, “and I’ll have to shut you up all over again.”

Her smirk was slow and deliberate. She tugged him down by the collar of his shirt until their mouths hovered a breath apart. “Try me, Quarterback Ken.”

And he did.

His hands were everywhere at once.

A firm grip on her hipbone.

A thumb pressed to the small of her back.

Fingers tangled in her hair.

She let her eyes fall shut, let her head tip back, let him kiss down the line of her throat like a man starved. He bit her pulse, soft and deliberate. Her fingers curled against his shoulders, holding him close. He traced her jaw with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. Every touch felt like a promise.

His hands skimmed up her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He lifted her, like she weighed nothing. Like she was an extension of him.

He set her down on the bathroom vanity, fingers steady against her hips.

And then he stepped closer.

So close that her legs were bracketed around him, her back arched toward him, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“Fuck, Y/N…” His mouth found the skin below her ear. She could feel the vibration of his groan against her throat. His lips traced her jaw. Her neck. Her collarbone. He kissed the hollow at the base of her throat, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. “You have no idea how long I've thought about having you like this."

She leaned back, bracing her hands on the counter behind her. “And how is that?” Her voice was low, a little uneven.

He didn’t answer at all.

He just kissed her again.

And again.

And again.

She was gasping into his mouth. Her fingers were in his hair, on his shoulders, gripping his shirt. She felt desperate and hungry and alive. Like he was unraveling her with his hands, his mouth, his words. Like everything she was—everything she wanted to be—was caught in the friction between them.

She kissed him harder, deeper. She nipped at his lip. He groaned, the sound caught between her teeth. Her hands slid down his chest, feeling every hard line, every shift of muscle. She didn’t want to just touch him.

She wanted to wreck him.

To ruin him for anyone else.

She felt his smile against her mouth. “You think I can’t take it, Y/N?” His voice was dark and familiar. His mouth hovered over hers. “You think you’re gonna win?”

She bit his lip harder, her fingers curling into his shoulders. “I already have.”

His mouth found her neck again, tracing a line down her throat, across her collarbone. His hands gripped her waist like he owned it. He licked the spot where her shoulder met her chest, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to taste her. Like he wanted to own that, too.

His tongue traced the edge of her dress.

His teeth dragged over her skin.

His breath was warm on her chest.

And suddenly, his hands were moving faster. Less careful. She felt the straps on her dress sliding down, one by one.

He pulled her dress down, fingers tracing the lace edges of her bra. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough, “look at you.”

She wanted to kiss him again, to taste him again. She wanted to feel him everywhere.

She tugged at the bottom of his shirt, and he reached back, peeling it off in one easy motion. His chest was broad and toned, his arms sculpted.

Y/N’s fingers trailed over his shoulders, over his chest, down his stomach. Every inch of him was firm, defined. She felt his muscles flex beneath her touch, his breath hitch at the brush of her nails.

He reached for her waist, lifting her easily. She wrapped her legs around him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength of his body. She kissed him again, her hands in his hair, her nails scraping down his back. He groaned into her mouth, the sound low and hungry. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her closer. She felt him hard and wanting against her, and her whole body tightened with need.

She ground against him, slow and deliberate, and his fingers flexed against her skin.

“Y/N…” He was breathing her name, his voice rough and uneven. His fingers were slipping under the edge of her bra, teasing the lace, testing her skin. She arched into him, her mouth on his, her tongue in his mouth.

“Off,” she breathed, tugging at her bra. “Help me get this off.”

He smiled against her mouth. Then he reached behind her, his fingers working deftly at the clasp. The straps fell away, and Joe drew back, his eyes dragging down her chest, her stomach, her legs.

He licked his lips. “Shit, Y/N.”

She smirked. “Like what you see, Quarterback?”

He didn’t answer. Just stepped closer, his fingers tracing along her body until they reached the bottom of her breasts.

He stopped there, his eyes catching on the metal bars that pierced each nipple.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His mouth closed over one breast, sucking softly, teasing her nipple with his tongue. Y/N gasped, her head falling back, her fingers tangled in his hair. She felt the edge of his teeth against the metal piercing, the soft suction of his mouth.

His hand slid up her other breast, fingers teasing her nipple, pinching lightly, sending jolts of heat through her body.

She arched into him, wanting more. Needing more.

“Joe…” Her voice was breathless, begging. Her hips rocked against his, searching for friction. “Please…”

He switched sides, sucking her other nipple, teasing it with his tongue, his teeth. His hand slid down her stomach, slipping beneath her skirt, tracing the edge of her panties.

She was already wet for him, already aching. He stroked her through the lace, his touch light, teasing. She rocked into his hand, her breath hitching.

“Joe…”

He looked up at her, his eyes dark, his mouth red. “What do you want, Y/N?"

Before she could answer, his hand was tracing up her thighs again, teasing along the line of her panties. She parted her legs, letting him explore, letting him take what he wanted.

His fingers slipped beneath the edge of her skirt again, only this time, he realized she wasn't wearing any panties at all.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his finger tracing her slit, feeling her wetness. “You weren’t wearing any panties this whole time?”

She kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth. “Maybe I was hoping someone would notice.”

He groaned again, his finger slipping inside her, his palm pressed to her clit. He pumped in and out, his movements slow and deliberate. His thumb circled her clit, teasing her, driving her crazy.

"My little slut to ruin." He crooked his finger inside of her, hitting that spot that made her see stars. She gripped the edge of the vanity, her body shaking, her orgasm building. He added another finger, pumping faster now, his thumb pressing harder, circling relentlessly.

His eyes never left hers. He watched her fall apart, her head thrown back against the mirror, her mouth open in a silent scream.

He could feel her tightening around him, could feel her essence dripping down his wrists.

He was taking and taking and taking.

Then he slid his other hand up to her throat.

Squeezing. “Look at me.”

Y/N’s eyes blinked open, glazed over in the neon glow.

“Talk so much shit…” He leaned in, his lips brushing hers, his fingers still moving inside her, still driving her crazy. “Now look at you.” His voice was rough, ragged. His eyes were wild, his mouth wet, his body pressed to hers. “Legs wide open for me. So close to cumming on my fingers.” His thumb pressed hard on her clit, and she cried out. “Hate me so much, don’t you, baby?” He pumped his fingers faster, his grip tightening around her throat. “Yeah, you do.”

And then she was cumming, her body shaking, her moans filling the air.

Joe didn’t let up, not even when she begged him to stop, begged him for mercy. He kept fucking her with his fingers, drawing out every last drop of her pleasure.

When he finally pulled away, he was breathing hard, his eyes wild.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice rough. “Hands on the counter.”

She obeyed, hopping off the counter on wobbly legs, turning to face the cracked glass. Her hands shook as she pressed her palms against the cool surface.

She saw him in the reflection then—his eyes dark, his chest heaving, his hand moving over the bulge in his pants. His eyes locked on hers in the mirror.

“Spread your legs,” he growled.

She did, widening her stance, arching her back, offering herself to him.

His fingers gripped her hips, hard enough to bruise. She could hear the rasp of his zipper.

And then he was pushing inside her, his cock thick and hard. He filled her completely, stretching her, taking her breath away.

She whimpered, her fingers sliding down the mirror. “Joe…”

“Shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, his fingers digging into her skin. He pulled back slowly, then thrust in again, hard and deep.

She cried out, her eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck…”

He started to move, his thrusts slow at first, then faster, harder. He gripped her hips tightly, using her for his own pleasure, taking what he wanted from her body.

His breath was hot on her neck, his groans filling the air. She could see him behind her in the mirror, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched, his curls wild.

“You feel so good…” He leaned forward, his chest pressing to her back, his lips brushing her ear. “So fucking good, Y/N. Just like I knew you would.”

She moaned, her eyes opening to meet his in the mirror. “Joe… please…”

He grinned, his eyes wicked, his thrusts relentless. “Please, what? You want me to stop?” He kissed her neck, his tongue tracing her skin. “You want me to keep going?” He sucked on her pulse, hard enough to leave a mark. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want… I want you to fuck me harder,” she gasped, her body rocking with his thrusts.

He laughed, the sound dark and cruel. “Beg for it.”

“Fuck me harder, Joe.” Her voice was a breathless whine.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming brutal, his grip on her hips punishing.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his mouth on her shoulder, his teeth scraping her skin. His pace was brutal, unforgiving. Y/N swore she could see her life flash before her eyes.

She swore she could feel him in her fucking guts. Ruining her. Making her his. Making it so she’d never want another man after him.

“You like that?” He nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“God, yes…” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the sound of skin on skin.

He reached around, his fingers finding her clit again. He rubbed her in tight, fast circles, his cock still pounding into her, his mouth still on her skin.

“Fuck, yes…” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the sound of skin on skin.

 “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop…”

And then he stopped.

She whined, pushing her hips back against his, trying to get him to keep moving.

“What was that?” he asked, grinding against her, his lips on her neck. “You want more?” He licked up to her ear, biting the lobe lightly. “You want to cum on my cock?”

She moaned, her head falling forward, her arm bracing her against the mirror. “Joe…” Her voice was small, broken.

He gripped her hips tightly, keeping her still. Then he reached up, tangling his fingers in her curls, pulling her back up. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low, his breath warm on her ear. “Say my name, baby.” He thrust into her once, hard. “God, look at you. So fucked out. You wanna cum, don’t you? Beg me for it.” He grunted, his hips snapping forward. “Look at yourself and beg me to let you cum.”

God, he was so fucking mean.

And she loved it.

He knew she did, too, when her pussy fluttered around him.

“Please…” she whispered, her eyes finding his in the mirror again. “Please let me cum. Please fuck me harder. Need it Joey, need you to make me cum.”

He grinned, his eyes flashing. “That’s my girl.”

And then he started to move again.

Hard.

Deep.

Unrelenting.

His thrusts pushed her forward, her breasts brushing the mirror with every movement. She could see herself in the reflection—her eyes wild, her hair a mess, her lips swollen and red.

She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly fucked.

And she was.

She was close, so close. She could feel it building inside her, a wave of pleasure about to crash over her. Joe’s thrusts were fast, brutal. His grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror.

She was a mess, a fucking mess.

And she’d never felt more alive.

Her eyes rolled back, her moans growing louder. She was close, so close.

“Please…”

“Please, what?” His voice was rough, his breath hot on her skin.

“I’m gonna cum…” She could barely speak, barely think. Her body was trembling, her legs shaking. “Oh, God… I’m gonna…”

He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard and fast.“Do it,” he growled, his fingers pressing harder, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you fucking hate me.”

And she did, her body shaking, her screams echoing off the walls.

Joe kept thrusting, drawing out her pleasure, taking everything she had to give.

When she finally collapsed against the mirror, he wasn’t done with her yet.

He spun her around, lifting her up and slamming her back against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

He fucked her hard and fast, his eyes locked on hers, his mouth claiming hers in a brutal kiss.

He broke away, his lips moving to her neck. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he growled against her skin. “All fucking mine.” He sucked on her throat, biting down hard enough to break skin. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Say it,” he demanded.

“I’m yours,” she whimpered. “Oh, God, I’m yours…”

She was close again, her body tightening around him. He felt it, too, his thrusts becoming erratic, his breath ragged.

“Fuck,” he hissed, burying his face in her neck. “I’m gonna cum…”

“Inside me…” Her voice was a desperate plea. “Cum inside me, Joe…”

He groaned, his fingers digging into her thighs. “Fuck…”

And then he was cumming, his cock pulsing inside her, his body shaking. She clung to him, her lips on his shoulder, her nails leaving marks on his skin.

When it was over, they stayed like that for a long moment, their bodies pressed together, their breathing ragged.

Finally, Joe lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers.

There was something soft in his gaze, something almost vulnerable. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual smirk.

He leaned in, kissing her softly, gently. His lips lingered on hers for a long moment before he pulled away.

“Still hate me?” he teased.

She grinned, her fingers tracing his jaw. “More than ever.”

His eyes flashed, his smirk widening. “Good.” He kissed her again, hard and quick. “Me too.”

He pulled out of her, grabbing a paper towel, wetting it and wiped up her thighs and and pussy silently.

They cleaned up in silence, avoiding each other's gaze. Y/N straightened her dress, adjusting the straps. Joe pulled on his shirt, his movements quick and efficient.

When they were both presentable again, Joe cleared his throat. “I should get back out there.”

She nodded, her voice quiet. “Yeah. Me too.”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to hers. For a moment, she thought he might say something. Might try to…

But then he just nodded, turning for the door. He paused at the threshold, his hand on the handle. He didn’t look back.

“Next time, baby, wear panties. Might make things more interesting.”

And then he was gone.

The club was still throbbing with life when Y/N emerged from the narrow hallway that led to the bathrooms. Lights flashed in dizzying patterns, strobes cutting through fog and darkness like lightning in a storm. The music shook the walls—bass-heavy, hypnotic, the kind that could make a heartbeat fall into step. It should’ve felt the same as before. Familiar. Fun.

But everything felt different now.

She moved slowly through the crowd, weaving between bodies slick with sweat and glitter. The air was thick—alcohol, perfume, electricity—and yet she couldn’t shake the sense that she was floating outside herself. Like her body was still in that bathroom, pressed between cool tile and the heat of his mouth.

Joe fucking Burrow.

The name echoed in her mind like a drumbeat. Her enemy. The guy who had spent the last four years being a thorn in her side, a smug bastard with a talent for pushing her buttons and a face infuriatingly too handsome for his own good. He’d made a sport out of mocking her, teasing her, always toeing the line of cruelty.

And yet tonight—tonight—she fucked him. She’d let him tear down every wall she’d built between them and touch her like he’d been waiting for it. Like he’d known exactly what she needed and had decided, in that small moment behind a locked door, to give it to her.

She wasn’t sure if she hated herself more for letting it happen—or for how badly she already wanted it to happen again.

Her heart was still pounding. Her skin still thrummed with the memory of his hands. Her thighs still ached in a way that made her feel unsteady on her heels.

She spotted her friends near the bar, laughing and dancing, entirely unaware that their night had just split in two—before and after.

Londyn saw her first, waving her over with a cocktail in one hand and the other raised above her head, dancing to the beat.

“Y/N!” she called out over the music, grabbing her wrist as she arrived. “Where the hell have you been?”

Y/N tried to play it cool, smoothing down her hair and forcing a casual smile. “Bathroom.”

“That long?” Londyn narrowed her eyes. “You were gone for, like, twenty minutes.”

“Line was insane,” Y/N said, shrugging as she reached for someone’s abandoned drink on the bar. “Girls doing their makeup, taking selfies, talking about exes—you know how it is.”

Mia gave her a skeptical look, but let it slide. “You missed it. Jade spilled a whole tray of shots and then tried to flirt her way out of paying.”

Y/N laughed, grateful for the distraction. But even as her friend leaned in to continue the story, her mind drifted. Back to the stall. Back to Joe.

His hands gripping her hips. His mouth trailing down her neck. The smug whisper in her ear: Still hate me, sweetheart?

God, yes. She hated him more than ever.

And yet, she could still feel the ghost of his touch. Could still hear the quiet growl of her name from his lips as she came undone in his arms.

Her phone buzzed in her purse. A jolt of anticipation ran through her as she reached for it, pulling it free and lighting up the screen.

A message.

Joe: bathroom door locks. for next time.

Her breath caught.

There it was. The confirmation she hadn’t dared admit she wanted.

Next time.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, trembling just slightly. Then she typed, the words spilling out faster than she expected.

Y/N: next time? that confident you can get it again, QB?

She bit her lip, hesitating for only a second before hitting send.

Almost immediately, the three dots appeared.

Typing.

Then they vanished.

Then came back.

Joe: baby. you're gonna be begging for it. and when you do, I’ll be ready. ;)

Heat bloomed in her chest. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under her skin—and now, under her clothes.

Londyn glanced over, catching the flush in her cheeks. “Who are you texting?” she asked, sipping her drink with narrowed eyes.

“No one,” Y/N said too quickly, slipping the phone back into her purse.

“Uh-huh,” Londyn said with a smirk. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The I-just-did-something-I-shouldn’t-have-but-it-was-so-good look.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” Londyn said, clearly not convinced, but dancing again before she could press further.

Y/N turned back toward the dance floor, needing something to anchor her. Needing air, or space, or just a second to think.

And that’s when she saw him.

Joe.

He was leaning against a wall across the room, half-shadowed by a speaker tower, arms crossed over his chest like he owned the whole damn place. His shirt was wrinkled, hair just barely tousled—evidence of what had just happened between them. But what struck her most was the way he was looking at her.

Not smirking. Not mocking.

Watching.

Like she was a puzzle he hadn’t finished solving. Like he was already planning what he’d do the next time they were alone.

Their eyes met, and the world shrank.

The lights dimmed. The music faded. The crowd blurred into shapes and shadows.

There was only him. Only that look. That promise.

She hated how it made her feel.

She hated how much she didn’t care.

[ughdontbeboring]

Tulum

Heyyyyy buzz cut daddy!

Austin Butler x WoC Reader (but no discerption)

you both are reunited in Tulum and it’s your first time seeing Austin’s buzz cut….

warnings: AUSTINS BUZZ CUT 😮‍💨 and obviously smut

note: im not well so yea I wrote this after seeing Austin buzz cut at 1am on tumblr and everyone freaking out. Some loved it some hated it and I am here for it! I don’t know any man who can pull off long and short AND bald I just don’t. So this is my very horny response to the buzz. I didn’t edit this so oh well. this is not the work I should be working on but i could not control myself after what i seen last night.

Do not give permission for my work to be used anywhere.

if you like it love it fucks with it like, reblog, comment all that good shit! keeps a girl motivated

Also credit to whoever photo this is. I found it without it being credit.

x

Maybe if you were a different kind of women you would feel bad or maybe if you weren’t so absolutely in love and crazy about the man currently rearranging your guts you’d feel something other then what your currently feeling but you couldn’t force yourself to feel bad or ashamed of the completely pornographic sounds spilling from you both. Anyone outside this bed may not even understand how it could be possible for such sounds to be made outside of a porn shoot let alone be real.

Yet here you both were rivaling the best porn scene audio with your shared sounds of pleasure and desire joining the liveliness of the peaceful Mexican jungle at twilight. All it did was turn you on more knowing that people could hear and knowing some guest knew exactly who was staying in this room.

You had only arrived to Mexico a few hours ago. Austin had offered to meet you at the airport so you wouldn’t have to take the hour and half drive alone down to Tulum to meet him but you suggested that he didn’t. You didn’t know how’d you react seeing him at the airport and knowing you’d have to wait over a hour and that’s if traffic was kind to touch him if he was in the car with you. Austin had reluctantly agreed but had used the time wisely to set up the room, give the jungle villa an even more romantic feel with flowers and candles burning. 

Once you entered the villa Austin was on you before you had a moment to register it. His mouth dominating yours and his tongue demanding entrance as his hands frantically felt your body, pulling you up and onto him as you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, rutting against his growing need.

He wasn’t alone in his neediness. It had been a little over a month since you both seen eachother due to his filming Caught Stealing in NY and you needing to help a family member in another state. The moment Austin found out you were done with what you had to handle he extended his stay at the villa and had you come down not being able to wait another week to see you and knowing Tulum was one of your favorite places. Hence the current reunion even more special. 

Before you two could get far you asked him to take you to the bathroom, you needed a shower after such a long flight and his protest didn’t get far when you started to underdress him to join you.

That was some time ago before you both found yourselves stumbling to the bed after an unnecessary long shower and multiple orgasms in the open space concept, dampening the sheets with bodies that neither had the patience to dry.

The coolness of the shower didn’t last long either, not with the way you were at eachother in the Villa he was in for his stay. The AC could only do so much with the open concept, the quintessential humidity of Tulum seeping in the Villa somehow only escalated the intensity of fucking that was happening on the plush king size bed. The humidity causing both of your bodies to become damp with sweat, another shower before dinner with the crew was going to be necessary especially with how well fucked you know you both looked. Austin’s skin hot and flushed under your touch. 

You just hoped his outfit for the night wouldn’t show the marks you left on his chest. The thought making you smirk, his fans would have a field day. Some loved you and some hated you but none of the hate mattered to you, especially when this was your life and it was with him. 

Austin’s forehead laid on yours after a passionate kiss, his nose nuzzling yours as you both breathed heavily. Your lips still touching.

“Please please miss you so much” you cried out against his swollen full lips. You dont understand how your both not passed out on the floor because you haven’t stopped kissing eachother since you walked in the door. 

“Fuck baby I missed you too” he grunts as he drives his large cock into you harder while kissing all over your face softly. The difference in the tenderness and harshness sending you spiraling. 

“Yea daddy? Fuck you missed me?” You manage to get out. Your brain starting to go empty with anything other then the sound of Austins voice and the feel of him deep inside you. 

“Yea” he says with a little breathless chuckle. “Missed your pretty smile, your cute laugh and miss holding you” he says as he watches your face closely. 

“Fuuuuuckkk” you moan out completely overwhelmed by him and his words in this moment when you’re getting fucked within an inch of your life. How he can think straight is beyond you. 

“Miss how you cry when I’m fucking this tight little pussy just right” he says as his voice deepens along with the deep push of his thick cock that has somehow started to hit a new angle. 

“Oh shit….please please missed your big cock so much!” You cry out loudly as your eyes start to water, you know your only moments away from them falling. 

When he pushes your legs further back you can’t help the scream that rips through you. You’re so gone to the drag of his large thick veiny cock digging you out you hadn’t even notice him put a pillow under you to help him hit deeper at a different angle that has you going blank.

“Yea baby? Missed my big cock huh?” He teases his bright blue eyes watching you as he bumps his nose with yours to try and get you to focus on him.

When your eyes finally open again you feel your breath hitch. You don’t know why just now but it’s like you’re finally noticing his buzz cut and your cunt clenches him in an even tighter vice grip that has his hips off rhythm for a moment.

“Shit” he curses under his breath at your wet grip. He’s always thrown by how it’s even possible for you to be any tighter around him even after all the times he’s fucked you completely open on his cock.

You can’t stop yourself when your hands let go of the pillows that were your poor choice of an anchor before your freshly done nails are running over and down the back of his freshly buzzed hair. 

When he played Feyd you guys had a go in his trailer and it was risky and quick which made you both cum even harder. Once you both realized the effect of the bald cap after he filmed his opening scene you had managed to make it to Budapest for just in time to watch. You both were in his trailer when he noticed that look in your eyes. You were bent over the make up vanity within moments. The door wasn’t even locked when he gripped your hair to steady you as his cock plunged into your warmth. You barely escaped his assistant catching you both. 

But this was real and you didn’t have to worry about running the bald cap. 

“Soooo fu-fucking handsome” you said as your nails continue their exploration of the new very real cut. 

The sensation of your nails over his sensitive scalp, along with your wet grip and that completely fucked, loved up look in your eyes sends him hurdling over the edge. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He groans loudly as his forehead drops closer to yours.

His buff body suffocating you in the best way with his warm weight pressing you further into the bed. You can’t take it and you want to cum with him so you tighten your legs around his waist. 

“I need it, please I need it so bad daddy, wanna be full of you” you beg as you watch his face overcome with pleasure. “Wanna be so full I’m dripping your cum down my thighs all night in front of everyone” 

Austin can’t hold back any longer especially when you say such nasty shit like that to him while he’s deep inside of you. You both have dinner plans with the crew in about an hour if he’s even guessing right and the thought of you being so full of him around everyone, just dripping his cum because your his completely sends him under a tidal wave of pleasure. He wants you to cum with him again even if he can’t remember at the moment how many he’s giving you since you walked in so he angles his hips just right so he’s pushing into you and rubbing against that pretty pearl of yours. 

He can feel himself let go inside of you and he can’t pull his eyes from your face. Your staring right back at him, he can tell when you feel him emptying inside of you. You get this look he knows well and then the look and shake of your body as you start to cum right in time to join him to ride it out. Your cunt fluttering around his length.

When he nears the end of his, his sweaty face drops into your shoulder as his hips continue short hard thrust into you to ride out the end of both of yours pleasure. He groans as he bites your neck, his large hands slipping under you and gripping the globes of your ass to get a better handle on just how deep he’s fucking into your warmth. The squeals and gasp coming from you after every punch into your cervix causes his own release to prolong until he’s completely spent and empty. 

It’s moments of just harsh breathing and the sound of the Tulum jungle coming more alive with the setting sun that can only be heard. 

With your hands still absentmindedly rubbing his head softly you feel his soft full lips trail up from your shoulder to your ear nipping softly before his face pulls back a bit to look at you look and smile lazily. 

You felt your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know anyone luckier than you. Here you were in the magical Mexican jungle of Tulum on the receiving end of such a beautiful and loved up smile paired with the most beautiful and soft blue eyes being warmed under the weight of such a perfect buff body with a cunt full of cock and leaking cum. Feeling completely satisfied and loved. 

your thumbs rub softly over the roundness of his flushed cheeks.

“Another shower?” he rasps deeply with a soft smile.

“Yea” you say breathlessly, “but just shower, I’m so sore and we’re gonna be late to meet the crew for the finale dinner” you say. You’re trying to be strong but when his cock is still inside of you even if it’s soften and he’s giving you that look you’re not sure if you have the strength to deny him. 

He smiles before pecking your lips and removing himself slowly from inside of you. You can’t stop the grabby hands that make him chuckle as he pulls away from you.

“Don’t worry baby let daddy do all the work this round” he says smugly before he winks at you. 

The prefect moment with the most perfect person.

X

X

I am completely unwell yall I need this man so bad

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

My dumbest TWST headcanons

Yuu: everyone has forgotten their name and preferred pronouns. No one is willing to ask after so long, hence everyone calling them 'prefect' all the time

Grim: he is the reason why no dorm has tried to get Yuu to transfer in. They simply do not want him and unfortunately they are a package deal

Riddle: cannot handle spice. He ate a bell pepper once and started sobbing incoherently. Bell peppers are notoriously non-spicy

Trey: has mom hands in that he can handle hot plates without even flinching because he has permanently ruined the nerve endings in his hands from all of the times he's handled hot baking trays without mitts

Cater: has only like 7 Magicam followers because, as fun as his tags are, they aren't great for the algorithm

Deuce: has been told "that's unfortunate" multiple times after introducing himself. Does not understand why. No one tell him.

Ace: the type to never wait for his food to finish cooling. He burns his tongue at least once a day. He will never learn. Nor will he ever actually taste anything he puts in his mouth. Uses this for bets ("bet you that I can eat *insert the most disgusting concoction ever*" "don't...")

Leona: the entire school has a group chat devoted to the most insane places they've found Leona sleeping. Nothing has managed to top the time someone spotted him curled up in a cauldron that the first years were about to use for Alchemy. (Ruggie has tried to bribe his way into this group chat multiple times but everyone is too scared of Leona to give it to him)

Ruggie: the type to dump trauma on you without realizing it's messed up. Jack asked him once "Where'd you get that" and pointed to a scar and Ruggie was like "oh yeah that's from the time a guy stabbed me" and Jack has never asked him anything since

Jack: complains constantly about how big his tail is because it keeps wagging and giving away his tsundere-ness. Wants a little tail he can stuff into his pant legs to hide it

Azul: his glasses are fake. He thinks they make him look intimidating

Jade: will make fun of people for yawning in front of him. ("Scandalous" "????") He refuses to explain

Floyd: bites people he likes. Moray eel bites can cause paralysis and even beyond that his teeth are wicked sharp. This has caused several misunderstandings in his life

Kalim: everyone know's he's coming because all of his jewelry clink against each other. Like a cat with a bell on its collar. There is a betting ring about whether Jamil planned for this or if it's just how Kalim is that has spread schoolwide

Jamil: has absolutely responded to Kalim saying "Treat spiders the way you want to be treated" with "Killed without hesitation". Unironically

Vil: has accidentally cursed his own food several times. Never anything serious, but you would think it was with the expression of utter horror on his face every time

Rook: is the one in class to deal with bugs. He will pull a hairband out of his pocket (saved for this very occasion, or in the horrible case that Vil's hair tie might snap) and snipe the bug out of midair

Epel: constantly tries to get away with breaking rules right under Vil's nose. Out of spite. He has yet to succeed, but insists he WILL. One day. He will not

Idia: has lamented sending his tablet to class several times because he can't play some of his favorite games when it's away. Does not seem to realize that he would not be able to play those games while in class anyways

Ortho: has programmed idle animations

Malleus: his horns constantly hit the top of doorways. The entire room will go very quiet when this happens because they're scared if they breathe they will laugh and they Can Not Laugh At Malleus Draconia

Lilia: upon finding out his true age, the first question he is always asked is how his cooking is seriously "like that"

Silver: will wake up, find a miscellaneous animal sleeping on him, and go back to sleep because he would rather die than wake up the poor thing

Sebek: banned from the school library. There is no librarian so it literally doesn't change anything there's no one to enforce it but he still won't go in on principle

Crowley: has submitted a tax form with simply the word "No" on it. Is not sure why it didn't work

Crewel: messed up a potion once in front of a class. Swore everyone to secrecy about it. It is the only secret that has not spread through the school

Trein: has been called by his cat's name more than once

Vargas: students are often late to things because "Coach Vargas is hunting students for sport again :( ughhhh"

Sam: will trip students he doesn't like over 'loose floorboards'

[phoenixcatch7]

Deep in my ff7 rereads so here are my favourite fandom fics, hands down.

End as you mean to begin <- 130k+ of time travelling cloud parenting the remnants, seeking asylum in a war torn wutai to keep all four of them out of shinras hands while sephiroth is absolutely Going Through It in midgar. Great Genesis characterisation and cloud mothering his way to an international incident. Bonus gender hijinks, hilarious misunderstandings and zack. Unfinished.

The fear of falling stars <- 500k+ and soon to be completed. Cloud and insane!Sephiroth time travel back to their shinra days and I cannot emphasise enough how much cloud is Not Doing Well. Gorgeous wordplay and top tier banter. Utterly unhinged blood enemies to ??? to ?????? to lovers sefikura. It's E rated and probably the tensest I've ever been reading fic lol, it is not lighthearted! But it's incredibly well written and the characters are phenomenal (zack my beloved) so if you've got strong nerves (and like a quarantine pairing) I'd definitely recommend it.

Voice of the gods <- 170k+ of almost idyllic gods and avatars au. Slow, soft and full of world building, it's a lovely relaxing read of cloud getting anointed the envoy of sephiroth, god of war, and slowly growing into his role and joining the ranks of envoy. Lots of side characters take larger roles here, and sephiroth himself is a darling without losing his sharpest edges. Unfinished.

I CAN FIX HIM (series) <- possibly my favourite sephiroth characterisations ever. 130k and growing of pure shaking this man like a doll in a perfect mix of almost delirious crack and gutting angst (often both at once!). Very good writing, every single funny moment hits like a truck and keeps building until you're choking with laughter. Bonus points to ROADTRIP! for being utterly, utterly insane. I cannot emphasise enough just how GOOD every single character and their dynamics are written.

Just anything ff7 written by AimeeLouWrites, if you've been in this fandom for any length of time you'll have heard of her. Great concepts, great executions and aus for DAYS.

Five hearts to make him whole <- 130k+ of time/dimension travelling cloud getting sent to a world of soulmates - and his alternate self bagged all four soldier firsts. Alternate cloud also died violently a few years ago and boy did those soulmates (not) take it well. Our cloud, of course, was not read in on any of this. Shout out to the emotional support chocobo! Unfinished?

Shall I find rest <- another soulmate agszc (?) dimension cross but this one is 100k+ of post AC cloud and Tifa waking up and deciding to make it everyone else's problem. They're so done with all the drama. Bamf nibel duo to the end and Tifa is the mvp. Unfinished.

Advanced release <- 250k+ and it's sephiroth receiving the original game in a strange packet that appeared in his room. It spirals into a messy and painful exposure of conspiracy, lies and inevitable tragedy. Video game logic is a running gag and zack remains the only actually stable person in the whole sorry mess but he's also Having a Terrible Experience. Really well written!!! Unfinished.

On broken wings <- 160k+ of pure post AC sephiroth redemption from his pov. Him struggling to find his place in a new world and experience real human connection evolves into MOOGLE EMBASSY need I say more?? Unfinished.

With Great Power Comes Meddling Fucking Gods <- 470k+! Poly WEAPON cloud gets yoinked back to the past (feat agzs), dies for a few days and misses his family SO bad but he is determined to change the future for the better. Probably the most healthy and mature cloud ever lol. Unfortunately for him, insane!sephiroth is pulling a inner hollow and gaia herself isn't talking. If you like symbolism, whoo boy!! The dream sequences are a DOOZY (and drowning in eroticism). Wonderfully written, the divide between sane!sephiroth and his counterpart is really cool to see. E rated at times but it's absolutely DELIGHTFUL and WEAPON cloud is such a treat. And I cannot emphasise enough the symbolism. Zackkura (kinda) and slow burn! Unfinished.

A brand need not be seen <- 180k+ in a world of soulmates where the four firsts have clouds name on their wrists. Trooper cloud is tentatively, desperately hopeful. Then a smoking hot op af adult cloud appears, with no names on his wrists at all. It's a really cute flirty fic despite covering shinra politics, identity crises, huge self worth issues, lots of trauma, and finding your own place in the world. Unfinished.

Memory's struggle <- 250k+ of cascading time travel. Basically everyone goes back, which goes great XD. Everyone... Except cloud. I read this a while ago but I do remember poor cloud just getting loved and spoiled by literally everyone and freaking out about it lmao. He was so confused! Unfinished.

Additional edit:

A solitude of space <- a wonderfully soothing 90k complete of sephiroth getting resurrected and moving to stardew valley to become the farmer. It's sooooo peaceful and following him as he grows into his own person and experiences real normality and community is lovely, if a touch angsty. Eventual sefikura with cloud moving to the farm when he's not doing deliveries. It's just. Really nice. I think I cried at the end. Finished!

One-Winged Angel's Self-Saving System <- 55k+ sephiroth enters the Chinese fantasy Scum Villain world in place of the scum villain himself! (He's the third person to take on that role, but who's counting?) Reborn into a plant body he's set loose on an unsuspecting world with a completely different magic system (sentient swords! Immortality!), with only the guide of a mysterious hallucinated ai. Freedom to make his own choices! Aroallo seph rep! He messes up the plot so bad, recruiting accidental love interests with kill counts and resurrecting long lost immortals. It can get a bit heavy but it's really fun and sephiroth has no intention of ever going back. Unfinished.

The SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun <- 73k+ of the opposite of the last fic: the scum villain (the 2nd) gets isekai'd into sephiroth! Shen qingqiu, aka the modern world native shen yuan, fails to resurrect into his prepared plant body and wakes up in a new fictional world, once again as the villain. With his limited memory of the games and his immense knowledge of cultivation (scum villains magic system) he tries to get a grasp on his new life while evading hojo, the president, his new subordinates and the war front while cultivating to immortality - something shinra is VERY interested in. When I tell you these two fics have a GRIP on me. I've written so many fic ideas around them. It's actually insane. The first thing he does is completely redecorate his rooms and buy a whole new wardrobe, which is totally not suspicious XD. Unfinished.

The fifth act <- 160k, it's a good ol' time travel fic - with a twist. The truest exploration of ripples in a pond, or how kindness, when true, can be returned in most unexpected ways. Or maybe how a single act of good can change the world.... Or maybe it's about how you must never turn your back on an enemy. Cloud has people to save and people to kill, and only time will tell which is which. Complete.

Of Things That May Be Only 'Verse <- another series! At 250k, it's about sephiroth resurrecting, only to, uh, slip and crack his head lol. This sends him spiralling through a vision of a cosy life he'd never dreamed, and when he wakes up? He wants it so bad. But that means behaving. Slow burn sefikura redemption, side Cid/Vincent (vincid?) which ngl did convince me of the ship, domestic fluffiness and found family galore! And the whole series is complete!!

Little seph <- a 160k series about the AC sephiroth revival going wrong. Stuck in the body of a kid, post AC sephiroth is a feral kitten carefully domesticated with the power of pancakes, wing preening, and deeply uncomfortable sleepovers. He's a brat, a pest, a murder machine, but he just wants to be part of a family even if he pretends he doesn't. Eventual sefikura, and overall just a very good read. Fully complete!

We are no heroes <- 70k series, about a secretly time travelled sephiroth desperately trying to save his friends and finally, maybe, rest. When I tell you this had me SOBBING. I was BAWLING. Extremely good, zack is best boy. This man is just so tired. Beautiful descriptions. And, again, complete! Yay!

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 10

18+ MDNI on Ao3

All the other chapters

One small invention has big consequences...

Ace’s knock sounded on the door - two short raps followed by a longer tap. From your spot on the floor, you lifted your head to peer at the door with puffy eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Your eyelids felt like sandpaper as you blinked away your tears before using your palms to swipe away the ones trickling down your cheeks. You could feel the heat of the red splotches that always took over your face when you cried and you wondered how long you had even been here.. The headache blooming across your temples and the stiffness in your neck told you that it had been a while since you’d started bawling when Sabo had left. You felt hollow without your devil fruit power and the seastone left you feeling as weak as you did on the Revolutionary Army’s ship. Your body had been robbed of all strength and you had been left a powerless husk on the floor. Your arms tightened around your legs as you did your best to ignore Ace’s knock in the vain hope that he would leave. The door was still locked anyway, it wasn’t like you could let him in even if you wanted to.

“Hey, you in there? Wanted to come see you,” Ace asked softly through the thick wood. You remained silent, sniffling again as your nose continued running. Where else would you be? You heard the turning of the lock and looked up as Ace’s familiar freckled face appeared in the doorway.

“How ya doing Sunflower?” Ace said, using his even stupider nickname than the one Sabo had given you. You silently raised your arm to show him the cuff on your wrist. Your forearm and hand were scratched red and bleeding from where you’d tried to take off the bangle. At first, you’d thought it was made of silver but the metal was much stronger than you anticipated as you banged it against the wall and floor trying to get it to open. 

“Ah. Not good then,” Ace said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to patch it up for you?” You shook your head, your current predicament put the scratches at the bottom of your list of worries. The idea of being touched in this state made your skin crawl and his offer only soured your mood further.  Ace frowned at your lack of concern.

“Yeah, I mean, I did warn you that Sabo liked you. And he warned you not to run, so…” Ace trailed off as he sat next to you on the cool wooden floor, so close that your shoulders touched.  You didn’t have the energy to resist when he picked up your wrist and you let him move your arm freely while he inspected it. His frown deepened when he saw the blood dripping from the shallow cuts after he turned your arm over.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. You scratched yourself kind of bad in a few places,” Ace said, getting back up and heading to the door. You didn’t bother trying to get out of the room - where would you go? Sabo was still around, you were still stuck on the island, and you didn’t have your devil fruit powers. Ace returned a few moments later and settled in next to you again. Opening the box, he took your arm and placed it on his lap before he began applying astringent to your cuts while he talked.

“You can’t - you’re just… not strong. I mean physically. You can’t protect yourself, you need someone like me or Sabo. I’m not saying it to be mean, it’s true. Not everyone can fight, and that’s ok. You’ve gotta stay with someone who can keep you safe, especially now that you’ve awakened your fruit. Who knows what would happen if the World Government got a hold of you? But don’t worry, Sabo’s gonna help you, get you in with the Army. You’re not doing that great on your -” You rallied your remaining scraps of energy at his words and snatched your arm away from him, intent on wrapping your wounds yourself. You weren’t going to sit there and get lectured about how weak you were by someone who had likely never felt that way themselves.

“Sabo’s not helping me, Ace. I was doing fine on my own until Sabo kidnapped me. Do you remember that part? I don’t want to join the Revolutionary Army,” you hissed at Ace. You knew your anger was misplaced but Ace was the only one you felt comfortable enough to bare your feelings to. You began rolling the bandage around your own wrist as Ace scoffed at you.

“Ok, yeah, Sabo took you from your base. But you know it was for your own good -”

“No, it wasn’t! Sabo took me on a whim! I get it, you both think I’m some stupid idiot who can’t do anything and needs others to take care of me!” you yelled back at Ace. It was infantilizing to hear repeatedly how you couldn’t take care of yourself, how inept and fragile you were in their eyes. You put your head back on your knees, tired of listening to Ace’s cosigning of Sabo’s behavior. 

“Go away, Ace. Unless you’re going to take this cuff off of me….just… leave me alone,” you said quietly. Ace lingered a moment but you soon felt the warmth of his body leaving from near your own. His footsteps led back towards the door but you didn’t hear the door shut again. Picking your head up, you saw him passing Sabo in the doorway, who was holding something wrapped in a blanket. You gave Sabo your best blank look, unwilling to show him any of the emotions you were feeling. In your mind, you remembered your Marine training and how to hide your emotions in the face of the enemy. Sabo wasn’t going to get anything from you anymore.

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Or an idiot,” Sabo said calmly, crossing into the room closer to you. He set his wrapped item on the bed and sat near you on the floor. Your back stiffened as you sat up straighter against the bed frame hard enough to feel the edges digging into your back.

“You told me that I was,” you said, trying for nonchalance but failing when your voice cracked halfway through your statement. 

“No, what I said was that you weren’t thinking and I stand by my statement. You let Ace convince you to undertake some hare-brained scheme he cooked up to get what you wanted. That doesn’t make you stupid, just desperate. And I can understand why you might feel that way,” Sabo said as he switched to sitting on the bed, his knees by your head as he looked down at you from his new vantage point. His hands were gripping the wooden bedframe near where your shoulder was. You stared straight ahead while Sabo continued undeterred as he always did.

“You’re worried about your family, isn’t that right?” Sabo’s voice was quiet as he put his hand on your shoulder. Your heart started pounding at his question - you couldn’t remember talking to Sabo about your family apart from the instance with his shoulder. And that was just that you had a sister, right? How much did he know about them? Still, you weren’t going to waste this opportunity to curry favor with Sabo. Maybe if he thought you were worried about your family he’d be more inclined to take off the cuff. It would be better than saying you were trying to get away from him.

“Um, yeah. I mean, I was sending most of my paychecks back home -” you started before being interrupted.

“Yes, to Hen and Chick Island. To your ailing sister, two young brothers, and working single mother. Deceased father. The Marines won’t grant pensions if you aren’t confirmed to be dead. That was your worry, was it not?” You glanced up at Sabo, who had you locked into his unnatural stare. You began biting your lower lip in place of your nails as he continued, your stomach turning at his words. You turned to face him, still sitting on the floor.

“I know about all of them. But you don’t have to worry, I had you listed as a working member of the Revolutionary Army and increased your salary. Your family has been getting more money than before though they don’t know the exact source,” Sabo continued with a smile that was as comforting as the shackle on your wrist. You thought your heart was going to explode from how fast it was racing. Did they know you were alive?

“How did - how do you know all that? About my family?” you asked, unable to hear much over the pounding of your blood in your ears.

“I know much more than that,” Sabo said, patting the bed next to him. You obeyed the implicit command and sat next to him on the bed. “I know every project you’ve ever worked on, every article you’ve ever published, every base you were assigned to, everything. Even your real name,” Sabo carried on, putting his hand over yours while staring into your eyes. “But now you can relax a little more, right? Now that you know your family is being provided for? I wish you would have let me explain everything before you did all that with Ace,” Sabo finished, patting your hand. 

“I’m always thinking about you and looking out for your best interests. Look, I even brought you your pressed flowers,” Sabo said, lifting the blanket off the parcel on the bed. Peering over, you saw the worn brown leather cover of your pressed flower album.

“How did you -” you said, reaching for the album as Sabo handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the familiar embossed cover as the memory of why you got it swept over you. It had been a matching gift with your sister when you joined the Marines. You wanted some piece of her with you and bought two identical albums with your signing bonus. You told her that the two of you could continue the hobby together from afar, as long as you each kept at it. Your hands started shaking again while holding it, something you sincerely hoped Sabo didn’t notice.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you said in a small voice, looking down at the album lying on your lap. Your worrying about their financial state had been weighing on you heavily and knowing they were taken care of brought a small measure of relief. Your income being sent home meant your mother wouldn’t have to juggle three jobs to try and scrape together enough money for your sister’s medical care and the boy’s schooling. However, you couldn’t quell the unease that continued to twist in your gut at the staggering amount of information Sabo had on you. You thought you’d played your cards close to your chest but Sabo was two steps ahead of you the entire time. Plus if you were receiving money as a revolutionary, didn’t that make you one? You would need to do whatever you had to for them if you wanted to continue sending money to your family.

“You should thank me,” Sabo said, tilting his head with his eyes still boring into you.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you replied while fiddling with the fraying edge of the binder. “Thank you for bringing me my flowers and um, taking care of my family,” you said meekly while you did your best to avoid his stare.

“A proper thank you should include a kiss on the cheek, don’t you think?” Sabo said, his smile growing impossibly wider.

Sabo POV

Sabo wasn’t stupid, he knew that you had been trying to escape from him. But he needed you to see that there was nowhere to go, that there was nothing out there in the world for you without him. He wanted the best for you and your best choice was obviously him. How could you handle the Grand Line alone when your hands would start shaking at the slightest bit of adversity?  The thought was truly laughable; you needed him, even if you were slow to realize it.

He hadn’t wanted to put the cuff on you, especially not by tricking you into it. But what was he supposed to do? You’d disobeyed the few rules that Sabo had set in place, and Sabo loved you enough to hold you to his promises. You needed to see that if you disobeyed him there would be consequences, for the sake of keeping you safe. He knew it had set him back romantically, but keeping his word was more important. You were lucky he loved you so much he’d put aside his own needs and desires to care for you properly. He wasn’t going to keep the cuff on forever anyway. You’d be free eventually, once you came around to his point of view. He decided that when you’d been intrigued enough by the scientific experiments at the RA to want to work for them, he’d give you back your power for that too. 

He’d requested one chaste kiss simply to see what you would do. Sabo had thought you were a rule follower, someone who liked to stay within their limits, but your misadventures with his brother during his absence had shown that maybe you were a little more mischievous than he’d anticipated. You kept fiddling with the album he’d brought back for you while you mulled over his request. He had gone out of his way to retrieve it before burning your old base to the ground, killing anyone who had slighted you. Sabo didn’t think you would appreciate his act of chivalry, so he kept that news to himself. 

“It’s just a kiss on the cheek, it’s not like I asked to marry you,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. You looked like a wild animal caught in a trap with no way out - he could practically hear your heart beating from where he sat. Sabo almost felt bad but he deserved a little sweetness after what you’d done with Ace. Sabo tapped his gloved finger against his cheek in a silent invitation. Leaning over slowly, you brought your face close to his and quickly pecked his cheek as if it was burning hot.

“See? Not so bad, hm?” Sabo laughed lightly while running his knuckles over your cheekbones in return.

“Oh, and I have one more present for you,” he said, watching your eyes widen. Such a suspicious little thing, he thought, keeping his smile from showing on his face. The more time you spent together the less you’d have to worry about him, it would take time. Similar to how you’d grown accustomed to Ace, you’d enjoy Sabo’s company just as much - if not more. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a curled up leather belt. Extending his arm, he handed you the belt buckle first.

“It has an ‘S’ for Sunny. You know, since Ace took his belt back,” he explained as you turned it over in your hand. 

“Thank you, Sabo,” you said meekly before laying it gently on the bed. You leaned forward to give him another kiss on the cheek. This time Sabo turned his face at the last moment so your lips landed on his. He did it quick enough that it could be justified as a mistake, though it most certainly was not. He pushed back the urge to hold you in place and kiss you as deeply as he wanted, just so he could get a taste of the sounds you would make against him. Instead he let you back away quickly, a rosy red already spreading from your ears to your chest.

“You’re welcome, Dove,” Sabo said, outwardly ignoring the flush on your face while his chest was near bursting with the evidence of the effect he had on you. He was a little concerned about the blood supply in your body since it all seemed to be pooling in your face. He hummed a little tune as he promptly left the room, reminding you to gather your things on his way out. 

Your POV

As Sabo left you alone in the room with your face flaming hot, you heard Ace’s knock again. You looked at him, hoping that he wouldn’t tease you for your current state of disarray.

“Hey, can I come in?” Ace asked from the doorway, not entering without your permission.

“Yeah,” you said weakly, looking down at the belt buckle on the bed. It looked exactly like Ace’s except it was blue and had an “S” emblazoned on it.

“Sabo got that for you?” Ace grunted, nodding his head at the belt.

“Yeah, he said the S is for -”

“It’s for Sabo. He probably got jealous when he saw you wearing my belt and had to make his own for you to wear,” Ace said with a grin like Sabo’s possessiveness was all one big joke to him.

“Ace, it’s not funny. Sabo’s kind of…scaring me. I don’t know if -”

“Aw, relax. Sabo’s not gonna hurt you, he loves you. He just gets a little jealous sometimes. I mean, I understand. Everyone would, with a brother as attractive and famous as me,” he said with a grin and a wink. Despite your serious feelings about Sabo’s escalation, a soft laugh came from you. Ace could always make you laugh, no matter the situation, something you appreciated about him. You had a feeling Ace was not going to be receptive to your criticisms of Sabo anyway. Standing up, you walked over to Ace before stopping right in front of him. You were shorter, so you looked up and tried your best to apologize.

“ ‘M sorry I yelled at you,” you said to Ace while shuffling your feet like a child. Ace didn’t respond immediately and pulled you into a bear hug, your face close to his smelly armpit. Even so, you didn’t pull away. You were going to miss Ace a lot, he’d become a close friend. Well, one of your only friends.

“S’ok, I realized I said the wrong thing. I usually do. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ace replied, still holding you in a hug.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you,” you said forlornly before breaking away from his hug. You weren’t looking forward to the sea voyage and especially not without Ace there as a buffer between you and Sabo. 

“It’s not gonna be right away, we’re sailing in the same direction for a few weeks, and we’ll see each other on the RA ship. Sabo told me Luf is on his way to Wano and there’s trouble brewing. I’m gonna go help out, see if I can’t find some of my old crew. I owe a….friend a visit there anyway,” Ace said with a slight flush coating his cheeks. 

“Friends hmm? Like we’re friends?” you asked teasingly. Ace blushed harder, giving you the answer you were looking for. 

“Uh, no. Not like our friendship. He’s uh..special friend. Really more like a boyfriend,” Ace muttered, moving the strings of his hat around nervously.

“I hope to meet him one day, I’m sure he’s wonderful,” you said brightly.

“He is. He’s Kaido’s son but he’s incredible!” Ace said with a smile so wide it closed his eyes. Somehow you weren’t surprised Ace would know someone like that, much less date them.

“I can’t believe Sabo gave you the key to my room,” you said, changing the subject.

“Oh, he didn’t. I stole it from him. ‘S easy, I’m a better pickpocket than he is,” Ace said proudly. 

“Are not. I let you take it,” Sabo balked, leaning on the doorframe with a crate in his arms. “C’mon, the ship’s nearly here. We need to pack up your things, whatever you want to take. I’m not sure if or when we’ll be back here. Kinda sad, I’m gonna miss Ace’s depression island,” Sabo teased, placing the crate on the floor.

“Hey, it was our depression island,” he said, gesturing to you. Sabo rolled his good eye at Ace’s dumb joke but watched your expression.

“Sunny, please get moving. I can’t imagine you have all that much here but please go through my things and bring what you want,” Sabo encouraged you. You nodded and started going through the closet, folding up the clothes you’d been wearing over the past few weeks. Going to the chest with the warmer clothes, you opened the trunk to grab some of the thicker sweaters. Sabo’s expression soured but he didn’t say anything as you packed sweaters and long sleeved shirts, familiar with the changing seasons on the Grand Line. It didn’t take you long to pack up the meager belongings you’d been using. You placed the album gently in the middle of your clothes, making sure it was protected by the soft fabrics. Sabo’s eyes flashed as you pushed the belt through the loops of his pants that you were wearing, tightening the buckle so it sat snugly on your abdomen. It was a perfect fit. 

Sabo looked over the room to ensure you hadn’t left anything you would want in the future as Ace grabbed his pillow and the quilt off the bed. 

“I thought you don’t get cold?” you asked, confused. Since Ace had been sharing a bed with you, the thin quilt had been more than enough to keep you warm since being near Ace was like laying on a hot rock in the middle of summer.

“I don’t, but Bepo made this for me. It has sentimental value,” Ace said, stuffing the blanket in the box. You took it out and folded it nicely, placing it on top of your album.

“I guess I forgot you’d know Bepo too. He made this? He’s such a multi-talented mink, I’d love to pick his brain one day. Did you also get to meet Penguin and Shachi?” you asked excitedly. 

“Yeah, they were super helpful during my recovery. Nice guys, if they weren’t Law’s crew I would invite them to Whi - I mean, my own,” Ace said, running his fingers over the quilt.

“How do you know Law and his crew? Did you meet them at Warlord meetings?” Sabo asked a bit too quickly, holding his metal pipe in both hands.

“No, I’ve never met him. Law often dedicates his scientific articles to his brothers. And everyone knows about Bepo. He’s the cutest pirate on the seas,” you mused aloud.

“Not me?!” Ace said with a pout. You booped his nose and smiled at him.

“No, not you. Bepo,” you said to tease him a little further. You heard the ruffle of Sabo’s coat whipping around as he left the room in a rush, his unusually loud footsteps echoing down the stairs as a whiff of acrid smoke hit your nose. Ace gave you a knowing look and took off after his brother, laughing as he bounded down the stairs.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo was gripping the wood railing of the porch so tight it was cracking under his palms. Sabo was annoyed with himself; he needed to get his emotions under control. He knew your interactions with Ace were purely platonic and they didn’t mean anything. But he’d realized now you and Ace had been sharing a bed and had grown closer than he’d previously thought. The man in question came sauntering out onto the porch before sitting on the already abused railing. 

“Don’t say it,” Sabo said preemptively, cutting off Ace from whatever bullshit he was about to spout.

“You’re pouting,” Ace said cheerfully. 

“Am not,” Sabo said, defending himself immediately.

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna scare her away if you don’t control your jealousy,” Ace said in a singsong voice, dangling his feet from his perch. Sabo knew Ace was right but he didn’t want to hear it right now. 

“I’m not taking advice from you, you never even told Yamato how you feel about him,” Sabo snapped at Ace. Ace pouted and looked away, making Sabo feel guilty. Being mean to Ace was like kicking a puppy, a dumb puppy. 

“You’ve got a second chance at life, you can tell him now. Go to Wano, meet up with Lu, Marco, Izo, whoever you want to. Help Luffy, he’s already an Emperor -” 

“I know, I know. I just wish…I wish Pops was here. He’d know what to do, he’d -” Ace said wistfully. Sabo moved closer to his brother and put his hand on Ace’s shoulder. 

“Ace, you know what to do. Don’t let his death be in vain. Go and -,” Sabo started softly, patting Ace’s back. The tender moment was interrupted by a timid knock on the open door. 

“Don’t blow it this time. Just be calm,” Ace leaned over to whisper into Sabo’s good ear. Sabo pushed Ace away. By the face. 

“I, um, finished packing. I put all the amoebas into a bottle if that’s OK,” you said in a meek voice while holding a glass bottle filled with water. Ace gasped aloud at your proclamation.

“All of them? In one bottle? Is that safe? What if something happens to them? Will they fight each other? Eat each other?” Ace said with complete sincerity. You raised your hand and shook your wrist, the bangle moving up and down.

“I can’t really tell right now,” you replied forlornly before handing the bottle to Ace for his inspection.

“I’m sure they’re going to be OK. Ace is going to go grab the crate and we’ll head out,” Sabo stated, pushing Ace back towards the house. Hopefully, he got the hint that Sabo wanted to talk to you, but with Ace it was hard to tell. 

“I have something to ask you,” Sabo began. You shifted on your feet and started rubbing your fingers against each other in an effort to self soothe. Sabo had noticed your hands had started shaking again during your earlier conversation though he hadn’t said anything.

“Would you like to take medicine to make you sleep through the first three days of the journey? This trip is longer than the last and we’re going to be sailing through notoriously rough waters. We’re equipped this time with more medical supplies for you, but I thought I would offer you the choice. The medicine will make you sleep but not unrousable in case of an emergency,” Sabo explained while you chewed your lip. You hadn’t agreed yet and were eyeing him suspiciously, but this was truly for your benefit. 

“You can think about it, but we’re sailing within the hour. I’d like to give it to you before we leave, that way you can just sleep through the worst of the sailing. I’ll have to keep giving it to you every 12 hours and you can decide to use it or not at each juncture,” Sabo said, reaching for your hands and holding them within his own. He had been correct, they were shaking. Running his fingers over the tops of your hands, he continued to try to assuage your fears.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Ace will be with us for meals, of course, I’ll be there, and we’ll check on you. I don’t want you to have to go through sea sickness like you did before, on Striker and the first time we sailed together,” Sabo said before bringing your hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Your POV

Studying Sabo’s face gave you none of the answers you were looking for. His idea had appeal, you really didn’t want to be seasick again especially since you had just recovered from being on Striker. Being conscious or not didn’t change your situation since you were just as vulnerable awake as you were asleep. You’d been unconscious around Sabo many times and he’d never done anything untoward to you - that you could remember. Even with Sabo pushing your boundaries, all he’d asked for was a kiss on the cheek. Taking a gamble, you made up your mind to just sleep through the first few days on the ship.

“Alright, I’ll take the medicine,” you said, not pulling away when Sabo continued stroking your hands.

“Excellent,” Sabo replied, his genuine smile showing on his face once more. Of course he was happy, you thought, you were agreeable to one of his plans. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Sabo pulled out a capped syringe as Ace passed through the door, carrying the crate down the path to the waiting ship. The syringe was clearly from a Marine base, the familiar symbol emblazoned on the side. You idly wondered how Sabo came into possession of Marine narcotics but decided it wasn’t a question worth asking. You weren’t sure you wanted to know anyway.

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch inside? It takes a few minutes to work but not that long,” Sabo suggested, not waiting for your answer while herding you inside. Perching on the couch, Sabo flicked off the cap of the syringe with a practiced movement. “Ready? Small pinch,” Sabo said, grabbing your right arm. You felt a prick as the needle went into the muscle of your tricep and a small rush of cold liquid entered your arm. Sitting there for a moment, you didn’t feel any different than before as Sabo went to throw away the syringe.

“ ‘M not sure it’s working….” you said, already closing your eyes. Sabo chuckled as you lay down and curled up on the couch, ready for the journey to be over already.

~

You came to consciousness in bursts, confusion overtaking your mind as you tried to sort through the haze of the past three days. You found yourself back in Sabo’s bed, wrapped up in his blankets as the ship sliced through the waters. Bile was rising in your throat, though not as quickly as you’d experienced before, you probably had about ten minutes before you’d be throwing up. Thinking back, you tried to remember anything from the previous few days and could come up with only hazy memories. 

You remembered being woken to drink water and juice, throwing up a few times as Sabo held back your hair, Ace coming into the bed with you for a nap. You remembered violent dreams of being rocked back and forth, probably as the ship teetered through the rough seas. You remembered Sabo asking you if you wanted more medicine, already feeling the prick of the needle in your arm before you could fully verbalize that you did. You remembered dozing off while sitting on Sabo’s lap, your face nestled in his neck, his arms around you as he wrote letters. You recalled Sabo curled around your body in the bed, warming you as you fell deeper into sleep beside him. You remembered Sabo kissing your cheek and forehead, running his hands up and down your back to soothe you. 

Carding through your memories, you sat up for what felt like the first time in ages, stretching your sore muscles. Sabo’s idea really had been a good one. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice rough after not using it for so long.

“Hi yourself. Feeling better?” Sabo replied, coming to sit next to you on the bed. You nodded while peering out the window at the night sky. You didn’t know what time it was or even what day it was.

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s just being served. I can get you some and bring it here. I’m not going to give you any more injections but the last one isn’t completely worn off yet. You’ll probably fall back asleep soon.” Sabo offered while fluffing your pillows. 

“Can I get something to drink -” you started asking as Sabo handed you a cup off the nightstand. You drank greedily, gulping down the water until there was none left. Nothing had ever tasted as good as the clear cool water you were enjoying now. 

“Where’s Ace? I thought he joined the ship for meals?”

“He took a detour, he’ll catch up with us in a few days. There’s a small island nearby that he wanted to stop at for supplies. Probably for more food, too,” Sabo replied, rolling his eyes. 

Sabo POV

All good things come to an end, he supposed. Sabo had loved having you as a docile little pet for a few days. All of your hesitation, fear, and worry was gone under the medication, leaving you relaxed and calm. He loved taking care of you and helping you in your time of need as you fought through your seasickness. Sabo had been able to move you about as he pleased like a doll, your chest rising and falling evenly as you slept through the turbulent waters. He did miss your conversation and personality but having you so close was delightful in its own way. He didn’t do anything too devious, he’d kept his word to you. Only a few forehead and cheek kisses. And one kiss on your neck, but that was basically an accident as he’d been spooning with you and you’d turned in your sleep. He’d spent so long daydreaming about you when he was away, it was only fair to hold you close now that you were reunited. The trip was about a week longer - he had plenty of time to break down your walls before introducing you to the rest of the RA.

Sakazuki POV

Admiral Sakazuki was on his fifth cigar of the morning. He couldn’t stop himself, it was the only thing keeping him from burying his desk in a field of lava. His rage was so potent, so strong, that he feared he would irreparably harm his beloved bonsai plant if he stopped smoking. Sitting at his desk, he held the fourth copy of the photo he’d received from Shadow Island. The first three he’d burned, much like the man they depicted. Fire Fist Ace had been spotted buying meat kebabs from a street vendor, the scar Sakazuki had given him prominently displayed on his chest like a shield. His source had also revealed Ace had his Logia powers since he was able to fire up that damnable little boat and sail away from the island.

First your kidnapping, then Bayonette being burned to the ground, then Fire Fist Ace being alive and well. Sakazuki knew they were all connected, everything tying back to the ASL Brothers. If he could have killed all three of them at Marineford, he would have. He certainly tried and thought he succeeded with at least one. But just like his father, luck always seemed to be on the side of Portgas D. Ace. Burning quickly through the cigar, Sakazuki flicked the ash onto the smiling man in the photo, decimating the image once again. 

He wasn’t sure how Flame Emperor Sabo and Fire Fist Ace both had the Flame Flame fruit, but his intuition told him it had something to do with you. Your disappearance was no mistake, the RA must have found out about your research and seized you at the right opportunity. He needed you back, especially if you were able to replicate Logia fruit, something not even Vegapunk had been able to do thus far. Maybe he could have a Seraph of his own, another lava fruit able to be commanded at his word. Either way, you needed to be brought back to the Marines and away from the Revolutionary Army. 

Rising from his chair, Sakazuki picked up his snail and barked an order.

“Prepare my ship for immediate departure.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuffm @epochal-oracle

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

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It wasn’t long after the kids had rushed upstairs that Leslie arrived, and Bruce escorted her up to Danny’s room with Jason following them. It would be easier for Leslie to have them all together in the same room, and Bruce knew that his two oldest sons would be the best at handling keeping Jazz calm. She had only just met Bruce that morning, and only briefly, without speaking to each other. He didn't think she would be that comfortable with him yet. So while Leslie started stitching up his sons, having taken some time to get Danny hooked back up to heart and blood pressure monitors, Bruce turned to Damian.

“I’m going to get the collection device. Can you ask Danielle to meet me here? It shouldn’t take long,” Bruce requested, knowing that Danielle was probably roped into trying on clothes with Stephanie, but still wanting to make some progress on one of his self assigned tasks.

“Yes, Father,” Damian agreed easily, heading off to Stephanie’s room with Titus following closely behind.

Bruce left the hallway to Leslie commenting to the others that she had been expecting a lot worse, and made the trip to the Batcave a quick one. The canister had been left on the work table after he’d changed, so it was easy to scoop up and hurry back upstairs. And when he returned Danielle was there, enthusiastically rubbing Titus’ cheeks.

“Who’s a big boy? You’re a big boy,” Danielle cooed, gushing over the dog that was almost the same height as her.

“That’s Titus. And this is Ace,” Damian introduced officially, pleased with Danielle’s treatment of the dogs.

“They’re both your’s?” Danielle asked, reaching over to pet Ace as well when he got close.

“Titus is. Ace belongs to Father,” Damian responded, starting to pet them as well.

“Cool! I have a dog too. Well, he’s actually Danny’s, but he likes me too,” Danielle chimed before noticing Bruce was next to them now. “Oh. What’s up? He said you wanted me.”

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed, gesturing for Danielle to enter the bedroom with the others so that Jazz would be aware of what he was asking Danielle to do. “I had Cass take this on patrol with her, and wanted to see if it was collecting the correct substance. I thought you would be the best to confirm if it is,” he explained, briefly showing Danielle the canister Cass had given him at the parking garage before twisting the device in the middle. Pulling the top away, he revealed the ping pong ball sized glass orb inside, holding still when Danielle looked closer.

Inside the glass was a gently swirling, green liquid that was softly glowing very faintly. It was a lot more pale in color, and thinner in consistency than Danielle was used to. But without the metal barrier she could definitely pick up on the faint, familiar signature. “Oh my gosh, you found some!” she gasped, snatching the bauble from Bruce and holding it up to look at it. “Jazz, they got ecto!” she exclaimed, glancing at Jazz before looking back at the liquid. “Or at least it seems like it. Normally it’s a little… more,” she hummed, swirling the contents a little and scrunching her face slightly.

Jazz seemed stunned, not sure how these people were able to find something that she and her family had spent two months looking for. And what they had found had only been a corrupted version of it. Was this the same?

Without asking Bruce for permission, Danielle placed a finger on the opening of the bottle and tipped it over to get some of the substance on her hand. Rubbing her thumb against it, she noted that it definitely seemed to be ectoplasm, just not as concentrated as she was used to. And when she confirmed that she abruptly took a small swig from the bottle, smacking her tongue at the taste and ignoring the mildly startled expressions from the others. “Yeah, that’s definitely ectoplasm,” Danielle confirmed despite looking at the bottle again in mixed disappointment. “But it’s like… the skim milk version or something. It’s very diluted.”

The analogy made Dick snort softly, but Bruce breathed a small sigh of content. It wasn’t perfect, but it was still progress. “Much better than the Lazarus water though?” Bruce asked, holding his hand out for the bottle to be returned, glad she didn’t drink it all just yet.

“Oh, way better,” Danielle agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “That was more like rotten milk from months ago. With all the chunks and mold.”

This time the analogy made Dick gag a little, and even Bruce grimaced. “I’ll take your word for it considering I’ve never personally tried milk that was that spoiled,” he chuckled, replacing the bottle into the canister to seal it again. “It gives me a better idea on what to work towards. I’ll see if I can modify the next collection device to be able to draw a less diluted strain from the environment. How much do you think we’ll need?”

“Cool,” Danielle grinned, only somewhat excited considering it didn’t seem to be completely ready or useful yet. “Honestly, that was like… half a blueberry all together,” she gestured to the bottle. “I could get that from sitting in a graveyard around here for an hour. So it’s not a lot, but if you can manage to get more, faster, then it’ll probably be good.”

That was a significantly smaller amount than Bruce had been hoping for, but he would accept it. Like Danielle implied, it was still better than nothing. “Thank you. That was all,” he bid, letting Danielle choose to stay or not as he headed further into the bedroom, standing next to Leslie as she was finishing securing the bandage on Dick’s forearm. “How is everyone?”

“Your boys will be fine. Nineteen sutures for Dick, and twenty two for Jason. Just keep the sites clean and dry, like you’re used to,” Leslie reported, turning to face Bruce on the stool that had been provided.

“No signs of a concussion in either of them?” Bruce asked, just to make sure considering the blow Jason had taken to the head.

“Not that I can see,” Laslie confirmed, wordlessly shifting her body towards Danny and following through with the intent when Bruce nodded to allow her to continue her work. “I was hoping to see more improvement in this one compared to last night, but as far as initial vitals tell the variations in readings are within the same parameters. I’ll need to take a full blood sample to run some more comprehensive tests. Did you have something you wanted to try on him?”

It wasn’t a reassuring report, but it also wasn’t one that was unexpected to Bruce for someone who was in a self induced stasis. But something about the phrasing, and the way Leslie had turned Danny’s arm to face palm up and started to feel for a vein while asking if Bruce had anything to test on him made Jazz jump to her feet. “Absolutely not!” she shouted, roughly shoving Leslie away from Danny and standing protectively in front of him.

Bruce was quick to catch Leslie and lift her to her feet before she fell to the ground, quickly taking in Jazz’s reaction as well as what had led to it.

“Jazz?”

“What was that for?”

Dick and Jason’s questions were confused, but Jason was also wary. Neither of them liked the treatment of their doctor, but neither of them were dumb enough to not notice Jazz was reacting out of fear.

“What’s going on?” Danielle’s voice came from the hallway as left petting the dogs in favor of running into the room, placing herself between Jazz and the others and raising her fists slightly just in case. That was until Jazz grabbed her and pulled Danielle behind her as well, raising her arms to block both her siblings from the others.

“I said no,” Jazz emphasized. She was trying to glare at them, but her shaking form was far from intimidating. “If you think, for one second, that I’m going to let you experiment on my brother and sister then you have another thing coming-... W’what…?”

Bruce reacted quickly after his eyes scanned the surroundings, gently pushing Leslie behind him and holding his hand out for Dick and Jason to stay back as well. And as Jazz revealed her concerns that they were trying to experiment on Danny, Bruce took one step back before she finished, causing her to falter.

“...I would never experiment on your family, Jazz,” Bruce assured, keeping his voice more on the gentle side and avoiding trying to deny her assumption. She didn’t need to be told that wasn’t what their intention was. She needed to be assured that it would never happen, regardless of any circumstances surrounding them. “Nor would I allow anyone else to try. It doesn’t matter if he’s not a typical human, he still deserves to be treated like one.”

While Bruce’s words cleared up any confusion Dick and Jason had about the reaction from Jazz, they only served to incite confusion in the girl. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. In her mind he would either deny that the blood draw was for experiments, or would openly admit what they intended. Not tell her what she and her siblings and parents had been trying to prove to other people for months now. That ghosts were still human, and deserved to be treated as such.

“...W’what?” Jazz repeated, her defenses faltering.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Bruce reinforced, slowly lowering to kneel on the floor, allowing Jazz to look down on him instead of him towering over her, keeping his hands visible. Dick and Jason supported the action by backing away more while also keeping their hands visible, giving them plenty of space. When Jazz didn’t vocally respond, Bruce continued. “We won’t take anything from Danny, or Danielle, without clearly stating what it’s intended for, and getting permission first. With Danny being unable to answer, we’ll defer to you for that permission.”

Jazz looked like she wanted to believe Bruce, but was afraid to. Her arms lowered in favor of wrapping around Danielle and carefully holding her close. She found it hard to respond, the words in her mind a jumbled mess. “I’i… I don’t understand. Everyone who knows tries to hurt him. Even our parents did… until they found out it was him.”

That was concerning to hear, but not shocking. “Those people aren’t here,” Bruce assured, shifting his hands to be offered to Jazz instead, palms up. “And you didn’t hurt him. Neither did the others,” he reminded, noting how her breath shuddered as it left while she made the connection in her mind. There were people who wouldn’t hurt ghosts just because they were ghosts. It was going to be okay. “Let’s take a minute to focus on you, okay? Maybe just sit, and take some deep breaths?”

It was only an offer, but Jazz couldn’t keep herself from collapsing to her knees, tears budding in her eyes as she brokenly stared at Bruce. Ever since they had taken her and her family in she had been afraid they were just playing at being nice. Just waiting for a time when they could start researching her siblings. But even though she’d accused them of trying it, they didn’t behave at all like she’d thought they would. It wasn’t fair. How dare he give her the chance to not be in charge for once. Why did he have to tell her it was okay to prioritize herself for the time being? How long had it been since she started telling herself it would be just a little longer and everything would be okay?

As Bruce started to visibly breathe slowly, coaxing her to do the same, Jazz broke into sobs while trying to mimic him. That little bit of familiarity that she knew from studying about how to help calm someone who was panicking was giving her something to latch onto that for once didn't just bring more self doubt and stress.

At this point Dick couldn’t keep himself back any longer, especially if Bruce was only going to sit there. So he quietly, but still audibly, approached the others to kneel near Jazz while Danielle tried to comfort her sister by rubbing her back. “Would you like a hug?” Dick offered, holding his hands out to the over stressed teenager.

“Uh huh,” Jazz accepted with a sob, nodding as she shuffled forward to accept the hug and hiccup into Dick’s shirt, a muffled apology half voiced.

“It’s okay, we understand,” Dick assured, taking over for Danielle and rubbing Jazz’s back while holding her firmly. “There’s been a lot for you to handle. And you did great. You can let us help take care of you now. We’ll keep you all safe.”

“And if you still have doubts, just remember forty one stitches and a piggy back,” Danielle consoled, trying to reinforce Dick’s statement even if it did earn a confused look from both Dick and Jazz.

“...What?” Jazz hiccuped, the confusion stilling her crying just enough to respond.

Danielle just grinned. “Nineteen,” she said, pointing to Dick, “and twenty two,” now to Jason, “makes forty one stitches. And they carried me home, even after getting cut up,” she explained, gaining a rare, warm but huge smile. “That’s more than the Guys in White ever did for either of us.”

Jazz stared at Danielle for a long stretch, finding it hard to comprehend how something so simple was so hard for her to have used as proof before that this family not only wasn’t going to hurt her family, but was going to go out of their way to help them. She felt a little embarrassed now, cheeks burning hot as she turned to smother her face in Dick’s shirt again. “...I’m so sorry,” she apologized again, her tears abating significantly.

Dick could only chuckle lightly, giving her a soft pat on the back, and another rub. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he assured again. “Like I said. We understand.”

And they did. Though Jason had to somewhat marvel at being able to see what it was like to not be on the receiving end of Bruce or Dick’s calming methods.

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Theeeere's like 5 different topics I've been struggling to get organized in my brain which led me to completely rewriting this section maybe 4 times, and actually only half of this part stayed as part of this section while another thing as added and the other half is getting shoved to the next part X'D This was after spending like 6 hours researching dialysis, what systemic meant versus sepsis, blood poisoning, learning that was completely different than poison throughout the bloodstream, also looking up plant toxin chemicals, looking a lot into alkaloids, getting so confused I asked my mom about all this stuff and learned about ricin and umbrella assassinations. @ v @ my brain started to hurt, and I info dumped with my beta reader to try and figure things out and still ended up rewriting everything. X'DD

why all that is relevant will be part of the next parts X'D

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics,

[bloodlines-if]

Wait so, MCs sister and the ROs get to be cool creatures with powers but the player character is a boring old humie? 😭 I'm worried about another Wayhaven "useless damsel" MC.. (This isn't meant as a critique, just me whining bcs other characters get to be cooler than the main character lol)

Haha, I totally get where you’re coming from. It is hard watching everyone around the MC sparkle with powers while you’re over here like, “Cool cool cool… I can make toast.” Like in real life, genetics are a bi***, lol. (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) (no worries I got you with the emoji)

This got a little long sorry but I’m feeling poetic today!

Since this is my first story (of maybe more?), I really want to explore the delicate/complex dynamics of human vs. Bloodlines relationships — especially from the perspective of someone who’s seen as “weaker.” That’s part of MCs story I want to tell, the unfairness of it all. And yes MC will need support from other characters but why not use it to their advantage? Even without powers, MC and other humie‘s aren’t helpless. There are gears and tranquilizers designed specifically to deal with bloodborns (officially restricted to agents and law enforcement, but let’s be real, nearly every humie household has them thanks to the black market. There are enough humie‘s who kill and hunt bloodborns for a living).

And the MC? MC is a well known face in Sordia and that’s a kind of power on it‘s own too. They're not just some fragile bystander, they’re exposing truths, making enemies, getting threatened, beaten up… they have to know how to defend themselves. Power in this world comes in different forms and survival? That’s one of the hardest to master. Also think of Ace! They’re plain ol’human, no powers, still taking down criminal bloodborns and living to tell the tale. It may not be as cool as being a full bloodborn but that isn’t the MCs story. MC isn’t called ‘Leech‘ for nothing 🙂‍↕️

Honestly what I can say the whole theme of this story is captured in my blog symbol: a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The sheep’s smiling, just a little too wide. The wolf’s baring its teeth. But who’s who? That’s the heart of it. Power doesn’t always look the way you think it does.

And like I mentioned this is a really dark story so how far would you go for power little sheep/wolf?

P.S: honestly, one of the things I really like about Wayhaven is about MC being human (kind of? I mean they have special blood!). The MC might not have flashy abilities (yet?), but they still play a central role through their choices and the way they keep up with literal supernatural agents and shady conspiracies. I think that’s pretty badass in its own way. Plus, Mishka has so many books planned for the series. There’s definitely room for the MC’s role to grow ^.^ Super hyped for the next book tbh — I feel like we’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what Mishka has planned!

[ryuichirou]

how would the TWST boys react if they were chosen by the cat distribution system and a stray cat choose them to be its cat dad?

Today I decided that it’s time to write about something delightful lol I keep smiling every time I remember that we have this ask in our askbox… Thank you for waiting, Anon! I’m sorry it took this long.

Maaaybe I’ll write more hc posts next week… I try to write at least two per week, but there are so many good prompts that I should probably try to do more.

Anyways! Once again my bias is clear because I am a poor soul that loves cats but doesn’t own one, so spoiler alert: all the boys end up loving cats as well lol But I think it’s fair… How does one not like cats? Don’t ask Ciel.

Riddle – his first instinct is to refuse poor cat’s attempts to hang out because his mother never let him own a cat: they claw furniture, they bite, and Riddle has allergies! Or… he thought he did. He didn’t get any reaction from the cat, so maybe that was a lie?? Anyways, he would melt almost immediately because a fluffy creature wanting to be his friend is something that Riddle always wished for. He loves animals and taking care of them, so there is no way he is letting go of that cat! Of course he has to get used to it because a cat would never follow any rules, and sometimes it would get frustrating for Riddle, but… whenever a cat wants to play with him or cuddle with him, Riddle giggles like the happiest kid in the world. No one is allowed to pet his cat without his permission.

Ace – he will brag about it a lot. He’ll take the cat everywhere and always have it either on his lap or on his shoulders. He’ll always talk about just how much the cat purrs for him and him only, and how cool of a person he is because the cat clearly chose him specifically to be his owner. The cat really does like him a lot, but it doesn’t mean that Ace doesn’t get scratched or bitten all the time lol Also, at some point it will become the freshmen’s cat that everyone takes care of a little, and Ace would start to constantly remind everyone that this is in fact HIS cat!

Deuce – aw, he would probably be a little awkward at first. He strikes me as someone who is more of a dog person and doesn’t have much experience with cats… He would be very careful around it, as if he isn’t just afraid to hurt the cat, he doesn’t even want to offend it somehow. Of course he would swear that he’ll take care of the cat and be very responsible about it! But it will take a while for him to take it inside the dorm; he’ll just feed it and hang out with it outside at first… until the weather gets too cold.

Trey – he would have this “why me though?” vibe to his reaction, but he would still be kind of happy. Maybe he shouldn’t have fed it, now it follows him around everywhere… Trey says that this isn’t really his cat, but keeps taking care of it anyway. He never expected to be this delighted to have a cat. He would get much more into it than he expected, to be honest. He’ll probably feed it with home-made treats and give it toys that he made himself…

Cater – OF COURSE he’ll start taking selfies with this cat. OF COURSE. After some time he might even make a separate account for the cat, to see if it would surpass his follower count. Other than that, he would cuddle the cat a lot, talk to it, play with it, dress it up all cutely and meme-y. I think it would be very good for Cater to own a cat… He needs to learn how to take care of it properly though, so some assistance might be necessary lol

Leona – would he even care? Maybe a little bit, but he would act like he doesn’t care at all. He doesn’t even know who the fuck this cat is, it just appeared suddenly and now lives in his room. It can stay or leave, doesn’t make any difference to Leona. In actuality though, on some level he does appreciate the companionship of another cat sleeping next to him or on top of him and grooming his ears. But only when no one sees it or comments on it. He could chat with the cat btw, but he just doesn’t – for the most time they hang out in silence.

Ruggie – another cat to take care of?? And also, another mouth to feed?? Well that can’t be helped, it’s not like he is going to throw the poor thing away. I think he will manage to train it to do all kinds of tricks, like stealing stuff from others’ pockets or sneaking things away for Ruggie… the cat will be his partner in crime lol He would also probably have conversations with it, since it’s easier for him to talk to animals.

Jack – not only a dog-person, but also literally a dog, so he might have a hard time at first understanding that cat’s behavior. He is probably going to act like he isn’t interested at first, but jokes on him, because this only makes the cat more into him. He will literally sit all alone, radiating “don’t talk to me” aura, and the cat would think that this is exactly where it wants to sit – on Jack’s lap. Even though Jack is a tsundere, he is going to warm up eventually… and even while he is in his denial phase, he will take care of the cat by keeping it fed and letting it inside when it’s cold. Speaking of cold, Jack is very warm, so the cat loves him a lot…

Azul – “I don’t have time for this” at first, with all the reasons why having a cat is a bad idea popping up in his head at once. Similarly to Riddle’s mom’s mantra: it ruins furniture, it causes allergies, it sheds, it doesn’t behave… but he would also break very quickly, probably the moment the cat starts rubbing against his leg or purring at him. Azul would probably make quite a drastic 180 degree turn and enter his “a cartoon villain with a cat on his lap that he pets menacingly” phase by the end of his first day with the said cat. It feels good. It feels correct to pet a fluffy purring creature while you’re humiliating someone who is indebted to you. Also, of course he is going to treat the cat like royalty and get it all the best things… and also train it like a dog at the same time.

Floyd – people would think that he isn’t responsible enough to own a pet, but actually a cat would probably be the best pick for him. At first he would get all excited because this little buddy just suddenly decided to hang out with him. Floyd would just suddenly start appearing everywhere with a cat on his shoulder like he is a pirate or something. But then both the cat and Floyd would lose interest in each other, until they meet again and decide that they want to hang out again lol But while Floyd and cat are together, he takes it everywhere, plays with it a lot, races with it, cuddles it, smooches it, throws it in the air and catches it. Some of Floyd’s games aren’t the best for the cat, so Floyd ends up getting scratched and hissed at quite often, but for some reason the cat still adores him enough to let him do anything with it, even hold it upside-down.

Jade – it’s easy to picture him being a cat-lover because of the Sebastian parallels lol I think he would really enjoy owning a cat, and he would make it everyone else’s problem. Just like Floyd, he would walk around with a cat on his shoulders, but he would always mention it: please don’t mind my cat, he just loves me very much. I hope you are not bothered by my cat’s presence, he won’t bother us, I swear. Also, I think because Jade would actually try to properly take care of the cat, he would encounter some unpredictable issues, like a cat refusing to eat certain cat food or eating something it’s not supposed to eat. Jade would have a couple of moments that would make him fuss over it and even though he wouldn’t enjoy it… he likes the unpredictability. Keep chewing on random things, cat! But not too much, please.

Kalim – he would be so happy and excited!! It’s like making a friend, but a new kind of friend, a very fluffy one! Kalim is probably way too cuddly for the cat’s liking, so sometimes he would get confused by it running away from him. He just wants the cat to be happy… he would buy 5 cat towers, 30 toys and a bunch of cool accessories for the cat during the very first day of owning it (then he’ll buy more)! And 10 beds, so the cat could pick whichever it likes most (it sleeps in Kalim’s bed of course)!! And of course he will ask Jamil to learn how to cook delicious meals for the cat. He would try to feed the cat his own food first, but of course would stop once he learns that the cat shouldn’t eat spicy food…

Jamil – another one who would think that he doesn’t have time or energy to take care of another thing at first, but would warm up very quickly. He would tsundere up a bit when Kalim says that he is happy that Jamil has a little fluffy friend now, but after a while he will realise that Kalim is kind of right… a cat is even better than a friend. Hanging out with it doesn’t take as much energy, in fact, Jamil feels very energised after petting it and playing with it. Wow… a cat would do wonders to Jamil’s psyche…! He would both cuddle with it and let it sleep in his bed at night, and play a lot of active games with it whenever he has time for it.

Vil – despite how busy he always is, I think he would accept the cat immediately. The cat clearly chose him – it’s only fair that it’s Vil’s responsibility to take care of it now… I don’t think Vil has a lot of experience with cats, but he would read a lot of books and articles to make sure that the cat lives a good life in his dorm. He wouldn’t be as excessive as Kalim, but… he might have gotten carried away with the stuff that he got for the cat. But all of it is very necessary! The best cat food (he’ll ditch it after a while and start cooking for the cat himself), the best sleeping place, the best toys to make sure that the cat is active and healthy. He will also bathe it, brush its fur every day, trim its nails… Vil’s cat is going to be such a wonderfully groomed cat that knows all kinds of tricks and is very smart and well-behaved… but also Vil’s capricious baby that hates everyone other than him lol

Rook – oh, he wouldn’t consider himself an owner, he would always say that he is a companion to his cat lol He wouldn’t get surprised when the cat suddenly starts to follow him around, but he would act so flattered and honoured! Such a beautiful creature decided to illuminate his life with its presence. Rook is pretty good at talking to animals, so he would have conversations with his cat… While sitting in a tree together lol He would feed it of course, but he would also hunt with it and would prefer for it to catch its own prey. He also doesn’t want to trim its nails or groom it more than necessary, but alas, if it wants to live in Pomefiore with him, it has to follow Vil’s rules~ Rook wouldn’t want to anger the queen with an ill-behaved and dirty cat, right? Maybe he would prefer to keep the cat outside though, to keep it as undomesticated as possible. A weirdo…

Epel – he would be so happy! It’s been a while since he owned a pet, and this is the first time he has a cat. He would pet and cuddle it a lot, even if it’s still dirty… Of course, his first instinct would be to feed it and to bring it to his room. But he would also probably be anxious to bring it to the dorm: what if Vil sees it and takes it away… and even if Vil doesn’t see it, Rook is definitely going to notice the cat smell or something, and he will snitch on him! Anyways, he won’t be able to keep it a secret for a long time, but the cat will do some damage lol Surprisingly, Epel will only get scolded for not being a proper owner, so as long as he does better, the cat can stay. But it probably means that his senpai will start taking care of the cat as well. Epel will be a bit jealous, it’s his cat after all…

Idia – he’d die. He’d be so happy. A cat that doesn’t hate him? A cat that wants to hang out? A cat that FOLLOWS HIM TO HIS ROOM AND STAYS THERE? HIS CAT? Idia would feel like he spent all of his luck points that he had saved up for these 18 years. Or was it good karma? Anyways, Idia now spends all his time building cat towers and automatic feeders and toys and all kinds of gadgets for his cool new cat. At first he wouldn’t be as good at talking to a cat, and it would be very obvious that he is a bit worried when he pets it and doesn’t want to scare it away, but he’ll start cuddling with it pretty quickly. He’s so happy… It doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t feel real at all. Even when he gets used to the cat and stops being so awkward around it, he will still feel such huge wave of happiness every time he sees it, as if every time he sees it is the first time…

Ortho – this is the first time he has a fluffy friend, well, other than Grim of course! And Lucius isn’t very friendly with him either, so this is a pretty new experience! Of course, partially he would be excited because if he owns a cat, it’s Idia’s cat as well, and he knows how much Idia loves cats. But also, this is such a good opportunity to make a proper cat-to-human translator!.. It’s weird with Ortho. He has all the info he needs, and he is very good at some things, but somehow… petting and interacting with a cat is a bit difficult. Why doesn’t kitty want to eat this food? Why did it pee in the wrong place? What’s going on? I think he’ll end up asking Trein for advice a lot, and this will be a good experience for everyone involved. Also, his cat loves him more when his processor gets hot lol he is a walking heater.

Lilia – he would be happy at first and show off and brag because now he isn’t just cute, he’s double cute! With a cute cat on his head/shoulders! But at the same time, I don’t know if he is the best person to have a cat. I feel like he is one of those who try to feed it with milk, but also knowing Lilia, he literally makes those he cares for drink milk from a mug. Maybe he’d act differently with a cat, but it surely will be an adventure for this poor animal lol He plays with it similarly to how Floyd plays with his cat, and just like with Floyd, somehow it makes the cat very attached to him. Sometimes Lilia cuddles it and kisses it a lot, but a lot of times it’s the cat that gets clingy with Lilia and wants to sleep with its head on his shoulder. Acting like a baby, smh…

Silver – aw, he would be so good. Similarly to Rook, he would consider a cat to be a companion, but he would also try to be very responsible with his he takes care of it. He would take it to Diasomnia and let it sleep in his bed, wouldn’t do much grooming or brushing, but he would do his best in terms of playing with it and feeding it well, I think. Especially the latter lol But the majority of time the cat would just cuddle up and sleep with him whenever he’s dozing off.

Sebek – he has better things to do than to indulge in these games!! He says as he brings the cat home with a bunch of books with all the necessary information on how to take care of a cat!! Did he also fall victim of cute paws and purring? Maybe! But it won’t affect his performance as Malleus’ guard in a slightest! I think he will try to train the cat, and he might even succeed to some degree, but his cat won’t be as well-trained as Vil’s or Azul’s. Maybe the cat just doesn’t take him seriously and just wants to make biscuits on his stomach while sleeping on his lap… Sebek would seethe, but won’t move until the cat leaves :(

Malleus – the cat isn’t afraid of him? Oh he would be so delighted. He was very happy about the goat in the Glorious Masquerade event, and I think his reaction would be similar here: first amusement, a little surprise, but then he would get so tickled and excited for this new companionship. The cat would be allowed to seemingly disrespect Malleus by positioning itself on his horns, leaving fur on his garment, playing with his hair, and Malleus would laugh… until the cat scratches him. Then Malleus would start sulking. But he’ll get over it, he’s not a baby.

[jihyoruri]

firecracker!yn facts I miss my hot head

FIRECRACKER!YN FACTS

firecracker!yn, was added to lesserafim in the summer of 2022 making her a late added member

firecracker!yn, before she was a trainee she did taekwondo and was so big that she could’ve been the youngest to go to the olympics

firecracker!yn, loves ghibli so much it’s an obsession she has everything ghibli

firecracker!yn, has major anger issues and it gets really bad sometimes like her issues are not a joking matter to the members and they’ll immediately go after the person who tries to trigger her purposefully.

firecracker!yn, has really bad vision and is always in her glasses the, only time you won’t see her in them is when she’s on stage.

firecracker!yn, is the second youngest of the group only being a year older than eunchae.

firecracker!yn, likes be alone, she’s always in her room and in behind the scene videos she’s always in her own corner on the couch mostly staring off into space.

firecracker!yn, loves wired headphones like for some reason she can’t stand bluetooth.

firecracker!yn, she’s really close friends with rei from ive.

firecracker!yn, has the biggest beef with yunjin it’s the funniest things ever.

firecracker!yn, loves sakura so much like that’s her mom.

firecracker!yn, is forced to have chaewon sit beside her during interviews so the leader can monitor her when she gets the mic (chaewon is genuinely scared of what yn will say because she’s so unpredictable.)

firecracker!yn, she’s a chrome hearts ambassador

firecracker!yn, has the biggest beef with minji

firecracker!yn, is known for how bored she looks during award shows (but she’s actually amazed she just doesn’t know how to express facial expressions if it isn’t anger)

firecracker!yn, is blackpink’s biggest fan fan ( it was confirmed that rosé follows yn’s insta on her private account, in one of her fim-vlogs there’s a blackpink light stick in the background in her room, she wore a born pink tour shirt at the airport, she had a jisoo photo card in the back of her case for a while, when the girls filmed karaoke for a vid the only song yn participated in was playing with fire, a leaked photo of younger yn at a blackpink concert and there’s clips of every time an interviewer asks the girls about other groups yn finds a way to bring up blackpink)

firecracker!yn, along with blackpink being her favourite 3rd gen group, aespa is her fav 4th gen group.

firecracker!yn, is called the ace of her group because of how she excels in rap dance and singing and writing and producing.

firecracker!yn, likes to keep her hair short but always has crazy highlights in it.

firecracker!yn, has a soft voice for someone who’s so grungy and is always mad.

firecracker!yn, wrote and produced, impurities and celestial and for other groups she’s produced and written, cool with you, get up newjeans, sacrifice(eat me up), chaconne enhypen, my night routine formis_9 (SHE IS HYBES ELITE EMPLOYEE)

firecracker!yn, has compilations of her laughing at something eunchae said but then immediately making her face straight again.

firecracker!yn, is the biggest instigator when it comes to her members arguing with each other because most of time its the other way around and it’s her arguing with them.

firecracker!yn, has two locks on her door.

firecracker!yn, grew up with her dad, her two older brothers and her little brother .

firecracker!yn, has a loose mouth and is constantly getting caught swearing on camera.

firecracker!yn, biggest scandal is her telling yunjin that she’s gonna push her off the stage in the background of one of their videos.

firecracker!yn, either has a blackpink photocard in the back of her phone or a iz*one sakura photo card.

firecracker!yn, has a belly and tongue piercing that she got without any her member knowing (she literally have chaewon a heart attack when she saw it)

[derangedanomaly]

...So, Chaos is like my comfort character rn, and him getting mad at us... again... genuinely makes me want to cry, I can't handle getting yelled at... Like at all, and right now I'm literally shaking, if like anyone yells at me in anyway, my brain immediately says that it's my fault and I mad them mad, and to get away from them... Ha ha ha..... I think I have a problem.... But, when I get like this, I hide from the person that yelled at me, for like hours, sometimes I disassociate from the person to the point I stop responding... Completely... And then I avoid them, fearing I'll get yelled at again, and make them mad again. I won't even ask for help, I'll stay quiet and do as I'm told, without a single thought running through my head, like completely empty.

I was wondering if you could write um, some headcanons on Mare, Chaos, and the trio getting angry and yelling at us and then we just start disassociating and then when they stop yelling, we just disappear for hours only to reappear and not say a single word, but avoid them because we feel like we upset them and fear that if we get close to them they'll get angry again. And we won't even ask for things, we just hide and won't come out until our mind feels it's safe. And if they try to talk to us, at all, our mind immediately feels its no longer safe, and then we disassociate again.

You're so real for this.. I literally can't handle arguments- I don't like conflicts at all.

MASTERLIST

THE BOYS X THE READER DISAPPEARING AFTER AN ARGUMENT

NIGHTMARE:

Of course he snapped. How could he not? You keep on making excuses upon excuses, just so you can get out of doing certain chores. Nightmare just can't keep it together anymore... he's seriously too tired for this.

He was surprised when you ran up to your room, and didn't show up the whole day.

He honestly started to get a lil concerned. But his pride didn't let him check up on you

It was a shock to him when you finally came out of your room.

But even through all this... he's still the king of negativity. Of course he's gonna enjoy your negative feelings.

Honestly- won't end well. He doesn't know how to comfort someone, and he'd probably make it worse than it is actually- so.... Not the best choice 😭

CHAOS:

He didn't want to yell... He didn't mean to yell and let his emotions out... But you just suddenly started mentioning his mom...again. He truly doesn't want to think about it- he doesn't want to hear about it. Then something in him just- snapped.

You wouldn't even make it up to your room, before he grabs your hand, and looks at you with tears in his eye.

The only thing that he didn't want to happen- happened. He yelled at you.

You two immediately resolved it!

Everything went back to normal- and now you know not to mention that topic again..

Honestly, one of the best choices here lmao.

ACE:

He tries to stay away from creating conflicts...he can't stand them. He doesn't search for them- and he sure as hell doesn't want them. But hearing you spitting "facts" about his favorite tv show just made him angry..

He feels horrible after he sees you run up the stairs, a total mess.

He also- much like Chaos- won't let it sit. He'll try to immediately solve your argument!

He'd apologize really passionately! Just snuggling up to you, telling you how much he appreciates you..

BLADE:

Blade couldn't keep his cool when you fiddled with his collection of knives. He just COULDN'T. And being the idiot he is, he raised his voice....which he quickly realized was a mistake.

He was confused when you started avoiding him-

This dumbass is such a dum dum that he lets this go on for a whole week 💀

He just doesn't know what to say/do😭🙏🏻

He'd crack though, after he starts missing you.

Yeah...you got yourself a begging mess of Blade lmao

TED:

He doesn't yell at you

[ragnarockz]

*rolls window down* Hi, hello! Can I have? Wait a minute, I have written it on my notes app, the menu was so extended, hehe

Okey, so it'll be an order of:

9. Don't hold back

23."Don't be gentle with me—I like it when you're rough."

25."Fuck—uh! I love it when you touch me like that."

With Butch!Agatha, agent Vidal and a medium-sized strap, please? I can make it large for only $1? Yeah, sure, I think I can take it :D

Thank you very much, have a lovely day ✨️

*Rolls window up and drives away without paying*

Motherfucker didn't even pay! 😡🤬

ENJOY YOUR PROMPT, ASSHOLE!

I'm sure these two are at least 👀⬇ Callback to this post and, this song being the inspo for the room number!

Agnes pulled into the parking spot outside of their motel room, number 21, and parked the car. She reached over to the passenger seat, grabbing the 'have a nice day!' plastic bag with all her and Vidal's 'necessities' she had run out to grab at the nearest gas station. Most, if not all of it was junk food, a bar of soap and, a lighter since she had misplaced hers somewhere between this motel and the last. She grabbed her bag, got out of the car and locked it before pulling up to number 21.

She tried the knob, open, as Vidal said she would leave it just in case she was going to jump into the shower. Agnes didn't hear the water running. A quick turn to her right and she was face to face with Agent Vidal lounging on their bed in a emerald green satin teddy. Her hair was down; tousled as if she had just shaken it free from her claw clip. It looked soft around her, how it fell on her shoulders. She didn't look bothered by the head at all, not how Agnes looked and felt in her frizzy, messy ponytail. Vidal smiled wide when she saw Agnes back with their belongings, looking hot and sweaty from the late afternoon sun.

Agnes strode over to the bed, placing the bag down. Vidal didn't even glance at it, didn't even sneak a peek. She was too focused on Agnes; too focused on the bulge between her legs.

"What did they say?"

"Who?"

"Whoever. At the gas station. They say anything to you? Did they even notice?"

Agnes shrugged, tried to play it off cool but she was already turned on. She had left turned on. Drove to the gas station turned on. She had walked up and down the few aisles grabbing the stuff they needed and caught sight of herself in the glass of the fridge doors. Vidal had asked her to wear her toy out, to be ready for when she got back to the motel. It felt like a promise, a dirty secret. Sneaking around in a motel, just the two of them in between state lines. Time bleeding into itself as they spent another hot night together; the AC blown out in the room and the mini fridge not stocked.

"Don't hold back, Vidal...help yourself,"

Agnes whispered as she stood as close to the edge of the bed as she could so that Vidal didn't have to reach too far. Vidal reached her hand out, looped her pointer and middle fingers through the belt loop on Agnes' shorts and pulled them down with a hard tug. The deep purple silicone cock bounced free, stood erect for Vidal as if it was a true indication of Agnes' feelings. How many times did she wish she could get hard herself just so Vidal could 'see' her arousal for her? Too many times to keep track of.

Vidal's fingers wrapped around the base of the toy, grasping gently, running her nails over it. Agnes hissed, trying to soak in the possible feeling of it; what it would feel like if it was her own. She glared down at Vidal, clenching her teeth as she pulled her hips back in protest,

"Don't be gentle with me...I like it when you're rough."

It was Vidal's turn to clench her teeth, holding back a moan as she nodded her head. She got to the edge, sat over it with her legs hanging over and Agnes closed the gap. Vidal's face was basically touching Agnes' stomach; the toy almost touching her. She took the silicone back into her hand again, clutching harder this time. Her left hand found its way underneath the toy, trying to rub at Agnes' clit from behind the harness.

'Did you...ever think you'd...be getting a hand job from me? FBI Agent Vidal in a motel?"

Agnes moaned loudly, pushing her hips forward. Vidal kept the tension in her hand, deep and long strokes. She was pumping at the toy, applying pressure. She glanced down only once to see Agnes' legs shaking, trying not to buckle as she both felt the tug from the harness and the rubbing of Vidal's fingers in between her legs.

"God, Baby, you're so wet for me already...."

Vidal moaned under her breath as her fingers dared to push up inside of Agnes. She was soaked; completely turned on by everything Vidal was doing to her, for her. She prodded the two fingers that had grabbed the belt loop earlier into Agnes' pussy; embracing the warmth and wet, the arousal. Agnes moaned; trying to move even closer to Vidal, to the edge of the bed. Her right leg moved, thigh coming in towards Vidal. She was close enough to ride it but not at the right height; the mattress too high for her. Agnes moaned in frustration, her words coming out rushed, irritated,

"Fuck, Vidal...uh! I love it when you fucking touch me like that."

Vidal smirked, moving both her hands in a rhythm that only worked for her. She was staring up into Agnes' face, seeing how she wrinkled her nose, the way her top teeth bit down on her lip and created that dent into the skin. It would be rough there when they kissed but Vidal didn't mind, knew it was that way because of her.

"When I touch you like what, Daddy? When I rub your cock or when I finger your cunt?"

Agnes pulled away completely, felt the spring of the toy between her legs, Vidal's fingers leaving her. Vidal giggled, crab walking backwards onto the bed so Agnes could get on, coming in between her. She loved when she could drive right home to Agnes' arousal, her libido. It was easy to make her ruthless, to get her to hone in on her desires. She thew away any formality, any manners. She was crawling now towards Vidal, cornering her between the pillows and headboard.

They smiled at one another, teeth and all. Agnes noticed how hot the room had become, sweltering with barely any air coming in from the open window. Vidal noticed how Agnes' hand had gone in between her legs, guiding the toy towards Vidal.

The smiley face printed bag laid abandoned on the bed; the contents no longer needed for the time being. Their necessity becoming more than an indulgence in the face of their desire; their utmost need for one another instead.

[pawnshopbleus]

Miller's Girl

Chapter Three - The Meeting

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

Authors Note - after i dont know how long and several fights and bomb and shooting threats at my school, i'm back. I wrote this at 12 am so I hope you can understand it.

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

The Miller residence was a cozy two story home in the suburbs of Austin. The exposed brick fireplace climbed up the side of the black and white home. The green grass was a little too long for the pristine way Professor Miller held himself. 

You walked along the concrete walkway to the front door. You wiped your sweaty hands on your black pants and knocked on the door. You hoped that Professor Miller wouldn’t notice the circles under your eyes or the fact that you wore these exact pants to class two days ago. 

When the door opened you didn’t see Professor Miller towering over you. You didn’t see anything until you looked down a little bit. Standing there in all her might was a little girl no older than thirteen. 

“Sarah! What did I tell you about opening the door without asking who it is?” you heard Professor Millers stern voice yell from somewhere in the distance. 

“Sorry Dad but I think the babysitter is here!” Sarah yelled back. 

Sarah looked at you and shrugged her shoulders before skipping away. You stood still, not wanting to enter the home uninvited. The door was left wide open and you could feel the cold air wafting out of the home. The pay as a professor must be stacked to keep the AC running in the middle of October. 

“What are you just standing there for? Come in,” Sarah says with a hand on her hip. 

“Did your dad say it was okay?” you ask, not wanting to make your professor and future boss angry. 

“Yes, I did.” Professor Miller says from the stairs. 

He’s wearing something much more casual than what you are used to seeing him in. The blue jeans and white shirt that are sticking to his body make him look like he does something physical for work. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought that he was some sort of contractor. 

“Professor I-” “When you’re here it's Joel. Just Joel.”

You nod your head and look at your shoes. Your beat-up Converse aren't exactly appropriate for a meeting with your future employer, but it was these or the flip flops that squeak every time you walk. 

“Go ahead and sit on the couch. Sarah, go to your room.” 

Sarah stomps up the stairs and into her bedroom. Joel walks over to the accent chair across from the couch and sits down. He huffs as his body hits the soft velvet of the furniture. He leans back and spreads his legs, almost as if he were making room for someone to sit on his lap. 

Your eyes roam from his lap to his grey eyes that are staring back at you. You’ve just been caught eyeing your professor like a slut. Whether he minded or not didn’t come up as he gets straight to the point. 

“Look, you are the most qualified person for this job. Your resume and experience are great and you seem like a nice girl, but I don’t know if I can trust you with my daughter.” 

“Look, Joel, I know that my being late to your class could have affected your perception of me, but I think I would be great with your daughter. She was wearing a Madden Boys shirt when I walked in, right? Well, I saw the Madden Boys in concert just last year! I think having a cool babysitter would do her some good.” 

“Did you just call yourself ‘cool’?” Joel asks. 

You open your mouth to say something and then close it as nothing comes out. 

“How about I give you a trial week? You’ll get paid a flat rate and if Sarah likes you then you can stay.” 

“That would be wonderful! Thank you, Joel.” 

Your peppy attitude threw Joel off. When you first arrived at his home, you were cautious and timid but now you were smiley. He has never seen someone with such a bright smile. All thirty-two teeth were on display as you shook his hand and thanked him once again for this opportunity. 

Your hands were also unbelievably soft compared to his calloused hands. The same hands that cramp when they hold a pen for longer than fifteen minutes. 

You leave his home after that, your mysterious scent lingers in the spot where you once sat. Joel jogs up the stairs and almost trips on his daughter who is sitting on the top step. 

“I like her,” Sarah mumbles, her voice barely audible as her face rests on her knee. 

“Well, we’ll see about that kid,” Joel says as he walks to his office and closes the door behind him. 

As much as Joel wants to not like you. As much as Joel wants to blame you for being late to his class, he can’t. He could tell how sincere you were when you apologized to him. Your soft eyes begged for his forgiveness while he tried his best to not look into them. It was like a siren's call, slowly luring him into a trap that he didn’t want to be in again. He loved one woman and she left him alone with a baby and no money. 

The optional homework he assigned burned a hole in his desk. The key word was ‘optional’ and still almost all of his students did it. As much as he loved it when his students took advantage of every opportunity they got, he hated that he had to grade the work. 

After almost a hundred essays on why Victorian architecture is important, Sarah knocked on his door. She opened the door and placed a basket of cookies on his desk. The basket looked like Easter came very late. There was plastic wrap covering every inch and crevice of the pink and white basket. Pink and blue bows stuck to the top and bottom of the basket. Inside the basket held what looked like two dozen cookies. 

“The babysitter came by and dropped these off. She said that there's a note in there but only you can read it.” 

Joel peered around the basket for a sign of the note but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Can you hurry up and open it? I really want a cookie.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her weight on one hip. 

“Sarah Miller, are you rushing me?” Sarah nodded her head. Joel shook his with a smile on his face. He loved that his daughter felt like she could be sassy with him. This type of banter made him feel like he was a good father. 

Unwrapping the basket was Joel's idea of hell. The texture of the wrap felt weird under Joel's hands and the bows and glitter fell to the floor, making a mess. A pink bow fell into his black coffee which made him groan. He would have to make another. 

Sarah snatched two cookies and skipped her way to her room. Coincidentally, those two cookies were hiding the note that he was looking for. The small white square of construction paper housed five words. In loopy writing, it said ‘I hope you like cookies.’ It was so simple yet it made Joel close his eyes and rest his head on the back of his chair.