#Whoever put two assignments back to back...

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

the bodyguard | part 12

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Famous!reader AU

After joining Maverick's security team once he left the navy, Rooster had become the best bodyguard around. He never thought too hard about it, he'd go in, protect whoever he was assigned, and leave. The threat against his client never really went anywhere if he was on the job, and he always put it first. All until your assignment came along. Suddenly his biggest threat might not be the stalker watching your every move, but rather trying not to fall for the world's biggest pop star.

warnings: stalker, threats, toxic parent, anything else let me know

length: 2.7k

masterlist

The night before the party, the chaos had dimmed to a hum.  

The city lights shimmered through the hotel windows, casting gold and amber streaks across the suite you’d been staying in. You stood barefoot near the minibar in an oversized hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. You twisted the cap off a bottle of water, then took a small sip, watching Rooster over the rim. 

He sat on the arm of the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers loosely interlocked. Even relaxed, he looked like he was one second from springing into motion. Of course, you couldn’t blame him. The release party was only a night away now. It weighed heavily on both of you, even if neither of you would admit it. 

“Everything’s ready,” you said softly. “The stage, the lighting, the security... you.” 

“You’re not wrong,” he murmured. “Still doesn’t mean I like any of this.” 

“I know.” Your voice wavered slightly, like you weren’t quite sure how to hold it steady. 

He stood slowly, stretching, hands going to the back of his neck. “I should head out. Let you rest.” 

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

But neither of you moved. 

Rooster reached for his jacket on the chair. “Security’s got your floor locked down, princess. Maverick and I made sure. You’re safe.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, water bottle forgotten on the counter. “Bradley?” 

He looked up. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of you saying his name or the way you looked at him. Or you. He knew he'd never get tired of you.

You hesitated. “Do you... ever think about the cabin?” 

His hand paused on the jacket. “I do.” 

“Not the place. Just...” you searched his face. “The quiet. You and me. How it felt.” 

He didn’t answer at first. It made you nervous. Since coming back into your celebrity life, you had no idea what the two of you were. It didn't help that planning for the party had overshadowed everything.

He looked at you, something unreadable flickering in his expression.  “Every day,” he finally said. 

Something in you softened, relieved. “I miss it,” you admitted. 

His jaw tightened. “Me too.” 

You stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your chin slightly to keep his eyes. “You don’t have to go,” you whispered. 

Rooster stared at you, unmoving. Of course, he didn't want to go, didn't want to leave you for a second. But seeing you resume your pop star role so easily had scared him a little, sure the cabin was amazing, but it was isolated. In the real world, you were a star, he was nothing.

“I mean,” you continued, your voice quieter now, more fragile, “If you don’t want to.” 

His jacket slid from his hand forgotten, along with Maverick’s warning and any insecurity he might have. He closed the distance between you in two slow strides. You didn’t step back. 

He looked at your mouth, then into your eyes, and said lowly, “You sure, princess?” 

You nodded, breath caught somewhere between anticipation and need. “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

Rooster’s hand lifted to your cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye like you might vanish. He leaned in, and when he kissed you, it wasn’t tentative. It was deep and certain, like something he’d been holding back for far too long. 

You melted into him instantly, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss built – slow at first, then urgent, like you were trying to fold weeks of restraint into a single moment. 

You whispered his name against his lips. 

He guided you gently backward, lips never leaving yours, until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

Neither of you hesitated. 

Later, the city still glowed outside. The world still spun. 

But in that quiet suite, for a little while longer, it was just the two of you, breathing in the same air, hearts tangled in the hush between danger and something dangerously close to love. 

-- 

Rooster was pacing the hotel hallway outside your suite, radio in one hand, coffee in the other, his nerves on a short fuse despite everything being ahead of schedule. Tonight was the night. The press had already begun arriving at the venue, security teams were checking in every fifteen minutes, and your glam squad had set up a miniature salon in the suite. 

He should have felt calm. 

But the knot in his chest was back, right where it had been for weeks – ever since you’d told him you were going through with the release party anyway. Despite the huge threat you faced, despite Rooster’s insanely bad gut feeling about the whole thing. He knew you'd be the death of him one day, but he couldn't find the will to care.

He looked up when the elevator dinged. 

Out stepped Maverick with his signature smirk and faint air of trouble that always seemed to follow him. Except this time, he wasn’t alone. 

Rooster’s eyebrows shot up. 

Behind Maverick, walking in staggered formation that looked more like they were still on a flight deck than in a luxury hotel, were six familiar faces.  

Phoenix. Hangman. Fanboy. Coyote. Bob. And Payback. 

All of them dressed up, sharp and discreet, but unmistakably them. 

“No way,” Rooster said, lowering the coffee. 

Maverick shrugged, far too casually. “Thought you could use some backup for tonight.” 

“We’ve got security,” Rooster muttered, but he was already smiling. 

“Not like this you don’t,” Hangman drawled, stepping forward. “You’re looking a little tense, Rooster. Miss us?” 

“You know he did,” Coyote added with a grin. 

Phoenix gave him a nod. “You look good, Bradshaw. Solid. Serious. Weirdly upright.” 

“Don’t start,” Rooster warned, rubbing a hand down his face. “She doesn’t know you’re here, so please, none of you start fangirling-” 

Fanboy blinked. “You think we’re gonna fangirl over your popstar girlfriend?” 

“She’s not-” he stopped himself. “Just behave. This isn’t like old times. You’re here as professionals.” 

“Right,” Bob said quietly. “Totally professional. Got it.” 

“Relax,” Payback chimed in. “We’ll behave. Maybe. Probably.” 

Rooster sighed, “And if Hangman starts flirting, I swear I’ll have Mav throw you out himself.” 

Hangman placed a hand over his heart. “I would never. I’m here to serve.” 

Maverick clapped a hand on Rooster’s shoulder, grinning. “C’mon, let’s go say hi. Try not to panic.” 

Rooster sighed and turned toward the suite door, opening it. The suite was filled with warm lighting, the gentle hum of conversation, and the clink of makeup brushes against compacts. You sat at the vanity in a silk robe, your hair half curled, legs tucked beneath you, laughing softly with your stylist. 

You turned when the door opened and froze. First came Rooster, then Maverick, and then- 

A wave of strangers. 

Your expression faltered for a second before recovering into polite curiosity.

Maverick stepped forward. “Thought I’d bring a few friends along to keep an eye on things tonight.” 

Rooster gave you a sheepish look, “Surprise.” 

Hangman stepped forward, charm already dialed up. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” 

You tilted your head. “All good things, I hope.” 

“Mostly,” Phoenix said with a smirk. “Depends on the storyteller.” 

Maverick introduced them in order – Phoenix, strong and calm; Coyote, effortlessly charming; Fanboy, already fiddling with an earpiece; Bob, quiet but watchful; Payback, flashing a confident grin; and Hangman, who was already making himself comfortable by the mini bar. 

“They’re all ex-military,” Maverick explained. “Bodyguards now, part of my team. Some of the best. Just thought a little extra muscle couldn’t hurt.” 

You nodded, standing to shake their hands one by one. “Thank you for being here.” 

“It’s our honor,” Bob said, his voice soft but steady. 

“Genuinely,” Phoenix added. “You’ve been through hell. We’ve got your back tonight.” 

Payback gave you a wink. “We’ve heard a lot. All good. You’ve got a huge fan in my wife, by the way.” 

You laughed, relaxing just a little more. “Then I’ll try not to get any of you fired.” 

“You’d have to try pretty hard,” Coyote said, “We’re not scared of crowds. Or stalkers. Or... press.” 

Fanboy leaned over to whisper. “Definitely more scared of your stylist than any of those.” 

You gave him a raised brow and an amused smile, then looked over at Rooster. He was watching you – not with worry this time, but with something steadier. Something warmer. 

Hangman leaned into Fanboy and muttered, “Yep. He’s screwed.” 

Fanboy nodded. “So screwed.” 

Rooster turned back just in time to catch their expressions. “I heard that.” 

You laughed, the sound light and real, and for the first time all day, you looked and felt like yourself again. “Okay,” you said, hands on your hips. “Let’s get through tonight. A song, one speech, a terrifying crowd of people – and then we drink.” 

Hangman raised an eyebrow. “You are our kind of girl.”  

Rooster stepped closer to your side, instinctively brushing a hand against the small of your back. It was meant to be subtle. 

It wasnt. 

Phoenix clocked it with a smirk and so did Maverick, but no one said a word. 

Because beneath the glitter and the fame, behind all the planning and security detail, there was something grounded here, something simple. 

You cared about each other, and tonight, that would have to be enough. 

-- 

The flash of cameras was blinding, but you didn’t flinch. 

You stepped from the black SUV into the glow of spotlights and press bulbs, one glittering heel after the other, posture perfect. The midnight-blue gown hugged your frame, your hair swept into soft waves, lips painted a deep wine red. To the world, you were a popstar. 

But you weren’t alone. 

Rooster was at your side the moment your heel touched the carpet. Dressed in a sharp suit and tie, expression stone cold. If he noticed the roar of photographers calling your name or the swarm of fans behind the barricades, he didn’t show it. His eyes swept the crowd, the rooftops, the shadows between the lights. You'd never felt safer than when he was next to you.

He wasn’t here to be seen. He was here to watch, here to do the job he’d been asked to do in the first place. 

Except now there was a lot more on the line. 

Your hand found his arm as you walked toward the venue’s entrance. To anyone else, it looked like a polished red-carpet escort. But you felt the way his muscles flexed under your fingers. The tension. The storm just under his skin. 

“You good?” you murmured under your breath. 

“Talk to me once you’re back in the car. Safe.”  

-- 

Inside, the venue pulsed with low lights and high ceilings, chandeliers casting golden halos over designer gowns and polished tuxedos. Music drifted through the air, jazzy and elegant, as camera flashes flickered near the red carpet entrance you’d left only moments ago. 

Rooster stood near a side wall, one earbud in, eyes sweeping the room constantly. His posture was perfect, suit sharp, expression unreadable, but his heart hadn’t quite recovered from watching your grand entrance into the party. 

You had appeared at the top of the staircase, as planned, like something out of a dream. Dress hugging every curve, hair in soft waves, eyes catching on his like magnets. You hadn’t even looked at anyone else – just him. A barely-there smile, the kind that said you knew exactly what you were doing to him. 

Now you were doing press a few feet away, bright lights on your face as you gave interviws to everyone from music outlets to late-night show hosts. You answered gracefully, even laughed once, but Rooster saw the way you shifted your weight from heel to heel, the way your fingers rubbed against the seams of your dress. 

You were nervous. 

He hated that he couldn’t go to you. 

“You’re brooding,” Phoenix’s voice crackled through the comms. 

“I’m not brooding.” 

“He’s definitely brooding,” Fanboy’s voice chimed in. 

“He’s trying to laser-cut that reporter in half with his eyes,” Payback added. 

Rooster didn’t respond. He just refocused his attention on the rest of the room. Over by the bar, Hangman and Coyote were chatting up some Hollywood types – pure cover, but they were doing it with ease. Phoenix was positioned near the exit doors, already blending in with the event staff.  Bob was upstairs, overseeing the security feed with venue control. The entire team had snapped into formation like they’d never left the tarmac. 

It should have made him feel better. 

Instead, it only made him more aware of the single person in the room who wasn’t wearing a wire, comm or bulletproof vest. 

You. 

You finished the press line and turned toward him, eyes scanning until they found his. You didn’t smile this time. Just gave the tiniest tilt of your head – you okay? 

He nodded once – I've got you – and turned away before anyone noticed. 

Behind him a low voice said, “She’s doing well.” 

Rooster looked over his shoulder. Maverick was standing near a column, drink untouched in his hand. 

“She’s holding it together,” Rooster replied. 

“You too.” 

“Barely.” 

Maverick’s mouth twitched. “I was right to send them.” 

Rooster gave a short nod. “Yeah. You were.” 

In a way, it was comforting. The whole squad hadn't worked together since their Top Gun days, never as bodyguards. It felt like coming home.

They stood in silence for a moment, both watching you as you were swept toward the centre of the room by a PR rep. 

Maverick’s voice was casual when he said, “Saw the way Hangman was looking at her earlier.” 

Rooster glanced sideways. “I warned him,” 

“I know. Just saying. You looked like you were ready to bodycheck him into the minibar.” 

“I’m staying focused,” 

“Of course you are,” Maverick said, not quite smiling. 

In reality, Rooster was anything but focused. Not when you looked as beautiful as you did, not when someone was out to get you, when you were in danger. He had way too many thoughts swirling in his head.

All he could do was nod.

-- 

Later, as the party was in full swing and the crowd loosed with champagne, you finally slipped away from your handlers and drifted toward the far edge of the room. You found a quiet pocket of space near the windows, looking out over the city skyline. 

Rooster saw you the moment you disappeared from centre view, and was moving before anyone could stop him. 

“Everything okay, princess?” he asked when he reached your side. 

You didn’t jump, you didn’t even pretend to be surprised. “I just needed a breath,” you said softly. 

Rooster scanned the room behind you out of instinct. “Want me to clear this area?” 

“No,” you said, smiling faintly. “You being here helps.” 

He hesitated before stepping just a little closer. Your perfume was subtle – something warm and soft, like the cabin. Like the memories he still hadn’t shaken. 

“I wish I could talk to you,” you murmured. “For real. Without all of this around us.” 

“I know.” 

Your eyes met. You didn’t touch him, not here, but you didn’t need to. Everything in your expression said I see you. I know you’re still protecting me, even now. 

Then you tilted your head slightly and whispered, “You’re the only thing that feels real tonight.” 

Rooster’s jaw flexed, his hands itched to hold you, but instead, he just nodded. “You’ve got twenty minutes until your speech,” he told you. “And a tray of shrimp that looked slightly radioactive.” 

You laughed softly. “Thanks for the recon, lieutenant.” 

Rooster fought a smile, “Just doing my job, princess.” 

You stood like that for a moment longer. Close, but not close enough. 

From across the room, Hangman watched you, then leaned toward Coyote. “He’s doomed.” 

Coyote grinned. “In the best way.” 

Behind them, Maverick stood watching, arms still crossed. His gaze didn’t leave Rooster once, and when Iceman approached to say something, Maverick leaned in and murmured. “Keep your eye on him.” 

Iceman raised an eyebrow. “Rooster?” 

Maverick nodded, quiet approval beneath the warning. “He’s in deeper than he realises.” 

Iceman didn’t argue, he just looked across the room to you – and then back to Rooster. 

“Yeah.” he said quietly. “So is she.” 

---

A/N: The dagger squad have come to help! Prepare for some dramatic next couple chapters lol.. enjoy!

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[ablackonyxz]

They really advertised university as the best opportunity ever.

I haven't slept in three days.

[morninkim]

As a show of good faith toward the remaining Decepticons at the beginning of a new, united Cybertron, newly appointed Senators Bumblebee and Soundwave allowed Shatter and Dropkick to enlist into Autobot City's Defense Team.

These two turned out to be... not the best choices.

The city may have fallen to Insurgent Decepticon occupation had it not been for young recruits Hot Rod and Arcee's accidental interception of Shatter's communication with the fugitive Starscream.

To replace the errant Defense Team members, Springer and Blurr were reassigned from Iacon to Autobot City in their stead.

[rosenclaws]

XXX.Com || Pornstar Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: Logan needs money and work is hard to find when you're from another universe, luckily he lands himself a job as an adult film actor. Lets just say, he's a natural.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, porn (obvi lol), jerking off, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, scratching, oral f!receiving, rough sex, fake professor x college student (its the porno they're filming), he calls you teach in the porno, reader has a stage name (sunshine), flirting.

a/n: This was inspired by the delicious pornstar logan fics by @bpmiranda I wanted to try my own twist on the trope but plz go check out their fics they are amazing!!

Coming from another universe had its fair share of problems. For one his other self was a very well known hero so people were constantly staring. The other issue was working. He needed money if he ever wanted to move out of this god forsaken place. He’s sick of seeing wade walk around naked at 8 in the morning.

He needs his space and to get that he needs money but getting a job with none of the required paperwork was hard. He had to settle for doing odd jobs that paid cash under the table. Those were fine but he needed something more stable.

When Wade suggested he turn to adult films he rolled his eyes at another attempt at shitty humor from his roommate but the more he thought about it the less it seemed like a joke. The money was good and hopefully they didn't ask too many questions. So fuck it. How he found the right place was a long story but he ended up getting hired pretty quickly.

As the director put it. He's sexy and big in more ways than one. To Logan's surprise they didn't seem to care much that he was from another universe but they did have to make sure he wasn't a total creep which he understood.

The first video he was assigned to was pretty basic. Just fucking a girls brains out or something. Whatever the hell people were in to these days, he didn't really care. As long as he got paid. He had to get used to the prying eyes of the cameras.

Still he said his lines, albeit it took him a couple takes to say them naturally. His gruff voice and rippling muscles skyrocketed him to the top. Despite being a rookie he attracted a lot of attention and even garnered a reputation within the studio. No one could deny the raw animal magnetism this man seemed to have.

"Logan! Good news, your next video is going to be a with one of the most popular stars in our studio." The directors over the top enthusiasm makes Logan's eyes roll but he grunts out a response.

"Her name is Sunshine. Look her up. Anyways be here tomorrow by nine." Sunshine? Logan chuckles to himself as he leaves the studio.

Fake names are not uncommon but he's yet to find one that sounds so...perky. Still his curiosity gets the better of him as he steals Wades laptop in the dead of night. Searching in the name and scanning the results. Logan works with many attractive people in this job but the moment he lays eyes on you something shifts.

You aren't just attractive, you're drop dead gorgeous. He clicks on a video and his cock tightens in his pants. The faces you make don't look over the top or rehearsed. They almost look real. But Logan can tell you're faking it.

Your moans are sweet but he can tell whoever this boy is that's got his cock in you isn't doing his job very well. Still ever the professional you are you make it work. He falls down a rabbit hole of video after video. Shutting the laptop as the clock reads two in the morning. His cock is hard and painful as he puts Wades laptop back on the counter.

Fuck he needs a shower.

The ice cold water hits his back but it's not helping. He wraps his hand around his cock. Keeping his noises to a minimum as he jerks himself off to the thought of you. He bites his lip as he thinks of every way he can make you scream tomorrow. Show you what it's like to be fucked by a real man.

The sinful thoughts that fill his head drive him over the edge. He slams his hand against the shower wall as he comes. The water running down his back as he catches his breath. You've already got him interested, he just hopes he can put on a real show tomorrow.

-

When Logan gets to the studio the director tells him the "plot" of this video. Plot being a very loose term here. He's supposed to be the failing college senior while you play the hot young professor. They hand him a white button up a size too small and some fake glasses. He laughs as they place the glasses onto his face.

"No one's going to fucking buy this." The buttons threaten to bust open as they start to fix his hair.

"I don't know, you look pretty convincing to me." He looks up to see you smiling at him.

Already dressed in your shoot clothes with your makeup and hair all done. He shamelessly looks you up and down, licking his lips as his eyes settle on your cleavage.

"I'm a little old to be playing a college student don't you think?" You shrug and walk closer to him. You take your hands and run them through his hair, trying to flatten the parts that stick up but they don't want to listen.

"Don't think any one is watching these for the realism Logan." You wink as you then move to fix his glasses.

He clenches his jaw as he tries to contain the raging boner. He shouldn't be hard yet but here he is. You're driving him crazy.

"Promise to go easy on you, don't want to scare my new favorite coworker." You tease. Your nails scratch along his jaw, just for a moment but it's enough to drive him wild.

"I'm your favorite already Sunshine?" Logan says with a grin.

"For now, don't prove me wrong when the cameras are on us." You walk away and Logan enjoys every second of it. Oh this is going to be fun.

-

"Come on teach, your class is the only one I'm failing. I need to get a C to graduate." Logan's massive frame towers over your desk. His lines come out much more flirty than its supposed to but you roll with it.

"You need a lot of extra credit to make up the missing assignments Mr. Howlett." You stand up and walk over to where he was standing.

Pushing on his chest to get him to sit. You smirk when you see the buttons on his shirt fighting for their life. You sit on top of the desk and pretend to think.

"I'll do anything you want. Anything" Logan growls, his hand resting on your thigh now. Slowing inching up your leg, stopping right at the hem of your pencil skirt. You place your heel onto his shoulder. Spreading your legs so that Logan and the camera can see your lack of panties.

"Well, lets see how bad you want it." You taunt.

Your voice is smooth as butter and it drives him nuts. Logan gets on his knees. Ripping your skirt apart with ease making you gasp. That wasn't in the script but fuck it made you wet. His muscles are bulging in that damn shirt and you want to see what's underneath in person. Sadly that was going to have to wait as he trails kisses up your legs. Wet and sloppy as his grip on your hips is ironclad.

The camera moves to capture Logan's face. Seeing the primal hunger in his eyes as he grabs the hem of your panties with his teeth, dragging them down. He stands up with them still in his mouth. You grab onto his shirt and rip it open. Raking your nails down his very toned chest. You grab your underwear out of his mouth and toss it to the side.

"Good boy." You purr as you push on his shoulders.

He gets back onto his knees and wastes no time diving into your cunt. You fall back onto the desk as Logan takes you apart with his tongue. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips with ease. There is no need to fake your pleasure with him between your legs.

He's hungry, ravenous. Logan can't get enough. He holds your legs apart, keeping you from closing them as he zeros in on your clit. He's ruthless. Refusing to give you a moment to breathe as he loses himself in your pussy.

"You taste sweeter than I imagined." He growls off script. If he wasn't bringing you to orgasm you'd wonder what he meant by that. You wonder if he watched your videos just like you had.

"Logan!" You moan as your legs start to shake under the intense pleasure.

"That's it teach, let me taste you come on." His dirty mouth makes your head spin.

Your eyes squeezing tight as he pushes you over the edge. You barely even notice the camera as it positions itself over Logan's shoulder. Logan resist the urge to break the damn thing as it gets in his way. He feels a push on his shoulder and he growls. Reluctantly he gets out of the way and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

"I have an idea teach," Logan purrs. He pulls you off the desk. Wrapping an arm around you and grinding his clothed cock against your thigh.

"For every orgasm I can pull out of you, you raise my grade by a letter." He breathes into your neck, inhaling your scent. You sigh as his hands start to grope and squeeze your breasts.

"What do you say?" He grins as he feels you squirm under his touch. He unbuttons your blouse and tosses it to the side. Mouth watering as he buries his face in your breasts.

"You better get to work then Mr. Howlett. You're at a D right now." You turn around and bend over the desk. His hands run along your body before he unbuckles his pants.

"I'll show you a D." He grumbles. You have to stifle a laugh at his words.

The camera moves to show your face as Logan slides his cock inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure as he gets to feel your tight cunt. Now this is what he was waiting for.

"Come get a shot of this." He whispers to himself.

He drags his cock out slowly. He watches in awe as your cute pussy just sucks him up. Your hands are digging into the desk, clawing at the wood as Logan's massive cock pushes its way in. You knew he was big but to actually feel it in person. Fuck.

"That feel good? You like my big cock hm?" Logan's cocky tone makes you moan as he picks up his pace. He's pummeling your poor pussy with no mercy. Your moans are as real as they can get as you cry and whine with each thrust.

"Logan oh god!" Your eyes cross as his cock hits a sensitive spot.

No one's ever hit that before. You're falling apart. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath but your moans quiet down because of it. Logan doesn't like that one bit. You groan as you feel his hand grab your hair. He pulls you up so that your back is arched. His cock somehow pushing its way deeper.

"Come on baby, don't hide from me." He whispers in your ear. He wraps an arm around your chest to hold you up. Your nails dig into his arm to ground yourself.

"Feel so fucking good, jerked myself off last night to your videos." He mumbles so only you can hear. You don't understand how a man can have so much stamina. He doesn't even seem tired.

"So fucking close I can feel it baby. I can feel the way your cunt clenches around my fat cock. I can hear her pulsing for me." His eyes grow dark as he feels you start to lose it.

His rough fingers sliding down to play with your cunt. It's a filthy sight to watch. You've forgotten about the cameras and the crew. The only thing you can feel is Logan. He's taken over your mind, your senses.

"That's it pretty girl." He bites your shoulder and the pain mixes with pleasure.

"Fuck!" You wail as you come hard around his cock. Logan groans in pleasure and comes before he can really stop himself. Filling you up nice and full as you babble incoherently. You can barely get your lines out as you float between the real world and cloud nine.

"You got your C Mr. Howlett." You've never been this wrecked after a scene before but Logan has completely ruined you. You grin at the feeling of his cum seeping out of you.

"You know, I've always wanted an A." He's grinning like the devil as he thrusts his hips once more making you cry out.

He's still fucking hard. He really is every porn studios wet dream. Hot, sexy, can go for round after round. The director calls cut but Logan doesn't let go of you. You've got this dazed look in your eyes and he gently lays you down on the desk.

"You alright?" He grunts as he slips out of you. His cock still standing straight as someone brings him a robe. He grabs a towel from one of the PA's and gently wipes up your legs. You whine as the rough material brushes against your poor pussy.

"Sorry." You just smile in response. You haven't had a fuck this good in a long time. A crew member brings you a robe and you put it on.

"You really know how to use that thing. For a second I thought you were the seasoned professional." You joke as you try and get off the desk. You stumble and Logan is quick to catch you.

"What can I say Sunshine, you made it easy." He flirts. The director calls his name and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't keep him waiting Logan. I'll see you soon." Another crew member comes to help you as Logan lets you go.

Thankfully this was all you had for the week and you could go home and soak in a bath. Your poor legs are going to need it. After signing a few things and getting next weeks shoot list you can finally go home.

"Sunshine, hope I didn't fuck you too good." Logan says with a wink. He's waiting outside of the studio, a cigar in his mouth.

"I regret whatever I said before, your ego is going to get too big." You joke. He shrugs and puts out his cigar on the ground.

"You got any plans?" He asks. Your dressed in normal clothes now, nothing remotely revealing but Logan still thinks you look gorgeous.

"I could take you to lunch, if you're interested." He offers.

You haven't thought about dating since you started working in this industry. You didn't need a partner and it could be hard trying to find one who understood your job. But Logan flashes that handsome smile and for some reason you can't resist.

Maybe your working backwards here. He fucks you and then you go to lunch but hey, nothing about him is conventional anyways.

"Yeah, lunch sounds good."

Its just lunch, you tell yourself. It's only a meal with your hot coworker. If things were to go further though you wouldn't complain. Certainly not when he's as handsome as he is. You definitely wouldn't mind taking him back to your place and you're certainly okay when he promises he can go for more rounds away from the prying eyes of the camera. But for now it's just lunch. He pays and you give him your number.

Logan and you part ways and he prays he sees you again. Not just at work but outside of it too. You've got him hooked. The video gets uploaded and explodes in popularity. Praising how realistic it felt and how hot both of you were. He gets a call from the director, expecting another update on his next shoot.

"Great news man! Sunshine wants to do exclusive shoots with you. Oh this is going to make us so much money." He tunes out the rambling as his phone dings. A smirk appearing on his face when he sees a text with your name pop up.

Want to rehearse our next scene? my place 7pm <3

[holyblonded]

number 5 | paige bueckers

pairings: paige bueckers x reader, arsenal wfc x reader

summary: arsenal’s star girl and the new point guard for the dallas wings cross paths

notes: this was requested! i actually struggle writing romance so much also i did fabricate the scores a little…

You were born to be a star. Or at least that’s what everyone told you from the moment you could walk. You excelled at every sport you tried, basketball, tennis, track, but football stuck. Something about the ball at your feet, the way it seemed like an extension of your body, just made sense. Running up and down the field, the burn in your legs, the weight of a perfect pass, the sweet crack of a shot hitting the back of the net, it grounded you in a way nothing else ever did.

So when you were ten and got an invitation to try out for Arsenal’s Centre of Excellence, it was no surprise. Your mom scraped together every penny she had, bought two plane tickets, and told you to make it count. You balled out. There was no other way to put it. From that day on, you wore red and white like it was stitched into your skin. Arsenal was your home, your heartbeat.

You rose through the ranks quickly, and by fourteen, you were making your senior debut. With it came fame, the kind you never asked for and never wanted.

Kim Little used to tease that if you could physically dissolve into the shadows after a game, you would. But fame was a package deal. No matter how much you hated it, it stuck around. And with fame came obligations: appearances, interviews, photoshoots. Events you wouldn’t even watch in your free time, let alone attend.

Which is how you found yourself sitting stiffly in a chair, allowing a makeup artist to brush powder across your face, while your manager, Maggie, flipped through an email on her phone.

You kicked your legs back and forth, the chair squeaking slightly. “Maggieeee,” you groaned, tilting your head back dramatically. “I don’t want to gooo.”

“You think I want to be here babysitting you?” Maggie deadpanned, not even looking up from her phone.

You gasped, clutching your chest theatrically. “Wow. After everything we’ve been through? The trauma we’ve survived together?”

“The trauma of you refusing to attend anything remotely social?” Maggie snorted. “Get over yourself.”

You pouted into the mirror. “I am over myself. I’m so over myself I’m begging not to go.”

The makeup artist, bless her, tried to stifle a laugh. Maggie just rolled her eyes. “You’re going. You’re sitting in your assigned seat. You’re smiling when the cameras swing by. You’re congratulating whoever walks by. And you’re not escaping to the bathroom for half the event this time, understand?”

You groaned louder, tossing your head back against the chair. “I cannot believe this is my life.”

“You’re literally getting glammed up to sit at the WNBA draft and interview the next upcoming basketball stars. Cry me a river,” Maggie said, arching an eyebrow at you through the mirror.

The makeup artist finished your base and started on your eyes. You blinked up at her. “Wait, are you doing eyeliner? The swoopy kind? The dramatic cat one?”

“It’s called a wing, sweetie,” the artist said kindly.

You looked at Maggie. “Why do I need wings? Am I supposed to fly out of the event halfway through?”

Maggie laughed. “I wish.”

You sulked. “This is a violation of my human rights.”

“Uh-huh. Tell that to the Nike execs paying your endorsement deal,” Maggie said, standing up to go check the rack of dresses hanging nearby.

You glanced over your shoulder at the clothes. “Wait, wait, wait. I thought I was wearing a suit. Didn’t we agree on a suit? I can’t walk in heels. I’m going to fall and go viral for the wrong reasons.”

Maggie hummed thoughtfully. “You’re wearing the suit. Relax. But there are options. Versace sent three.”

“Three?” You practically yelped. “Maggie! Choices make me anxious!”

“That’s literally the least of your problems,” Maggie said, yanking one of the hangers free.

The makeup artist finished and handed you a mirror. You stared at your reflection, a little stunned. You looked…grown. Too grown. The soft glam, the liner, the perfect glow, someone who looked like they knew what they were doing. Someone who belonged at fancy events. Not the awkward, slightly fidgety player who still preferred a Sunday league game over a black-tie gala.

“I look like I know things,” you said faintly.

Maggie snorted. “You do. You know how to kick a ball better than ninety-nine percent of the planet. Now come on. Pick a dress so I can get you dressed before you start hyperventilating.”

You stood up and padded over to the garment rack, eyeing the options with suspicion. One was navy, one was black, and one was a daring white. You pointed at the black one. “That one. Safe. Stealth mode.”

Maggie gave you a look. “You’re not a ninja.”

“Could be.”

“Pick shoes.”

You rifled through the shoe boxes. “Do they make cleats that look like dress shoes?”

“Pick real shoes, you menace.”

You grumbled under your breath but chose a pair of sleek black heels. A couple of stylists helped you into the dress, fixing your straps and adjusting the dress like a mom getting her kid ready for picture day.

As you smoothed your hands down your dress, you caught your reflection again. You looked…good. Still felt like a fraud, but looked good.

Maggie handed you your small clutch. “Smile at least once tonight. You can manage that much, can’t you?”

“I’ll smile once if you let me skip the afterparty.”

“We’ll negotiate.”

You side-eyed her. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re lucky I like you.”

You bumped your shoulder into hers lightly. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Maggie smirked. “Go on, superstar. Time to suffer.”

You sighed, exaggerating every step as you followed her toward the waiting car, already counting down the minutes until you could escape back into your quiet, normal world.

But hey, at least you looked good while suffering.

The draft was buzzing, flashing cameras, laughter, the occasional high-pitched squeal of celebration, and you were sitting center stage, right in the chaos of it all.

You shifted in your seat, adjusting the long, black custom Versace dress hugging your frame. The gold designs swirling around the fabric caught the light with every move, glinting like fire. Your black and gold heels clicked lightly against the floor as you crossed one leg over the other, holding the mic lightly in your hand, playing your role for the night, interviewing players for Nike’s coverage of the draft.

This wasn’t really your scene, you didn’t love the noise, the chaos, but tonight, you were good at faking it. You were charming, quick-witted, and, surprisingly, actually having fun.

Right now, you were interviewing A’ja Wilson, who had the entire place wrapped around her finger with her energy.

“So, A’ja,” you said into the mic, grinning. “Be honest. How many group chats do you think have exploded the night you were drafted with people pretending they’ve been your best friend since elementary school?”

A’ja cackled, throwing her head back. “Girl, my phone look like it got hacked, that’s how many messages I got!”

You fake gasped, putting a hand to your chest. “And here I thought I was special.”

She laughed again and bumped your shoulder with hers. “You’re special. You different.”

You played it up, winking at the camera. “You heard it here first. I’m different.”

The two of you bantered back and forth for a few more minutes, keeping the energy light and fast. A’ja was a dream to interview, lively, hilarious, easygoing. But eventually, her PR person tapped her on the shoulder and pulled her away for more press.

You were just adjusting your mic when someone from Nike leaned down and murmured, “Paige Bueckers is next. She’s on her way over.”

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

Paige Bueckers.

You weren’t exactly the type to get starstruck anymore. You were too used to being the star yourself. A trailblazer that’s what everyone said about you. You had carved your own path through Arsenal, through women’s football, smashing records before you were even out of your teens.

But still…Paige was different. And when you looked up and saw her walking toward you, blonde hair shining under the lights, that easygoing smile on her face, yeah, okay, maybe you were a little starstruck.

Paige’s eyes caught yours and she didn’t look away. There was a jolt of electricity between you, instant and undeniable.

“Hey,” she said, voice low, almost amused, as she sat down next to you, a little closer than strictly necessary.

“Hey,” you echoed, giving her a slow smile as you passed her a mic.

You introduced her to the camera with your usual polished energy, but under the surface, there was a heat building, a charged current in the air between you that you knew the cameras couldn’t quite capture.

“First of all, huge congrats,” you said, grinning. “Drafted number one to the Dallas Wings, casual, no big deal.”

Paige laughed softly, eyes crinkling. “‘preciate you.”

“And second of all,” you added, digging into the bag at your side with a mischievous glint in your eye, “since it’s a big night, I thought we should toast.”

You pulled out two juice boxes.

The entire area around you cracked up, staff, Nike reps, even a few players passing by.

Paige raised her eyebrows, grinning wide. “You’re unreal.”

“I get that a lot,” you deadpanned, offering her one.

She reached out to take it, and your fingers brushed. Lingering. Way longer than necessary. Heat exploded up your arm.

Paige didn’t break eye contact for a second as she gently tapped her juice box against yours. “To new beginnings,” she murmured.

“To causing chaos,” you said back, voice dropping just a fraction.

She smiled, slow, lazy, devastating and for a second you genuinely forgot what your next question was.

It didn’t help that every time you handed her the mic, or gestured toward her, her fingers would find yours, light, feather-soft touches that made your brain foggy. It was all flirting, lowkey, under the radar, enough to make you giddy while still keeping the professional face for the cameras.

Eventually, after what felt like the fastest and slowest ten minutes of your life, Paige’s team had to pull her for other media obligations. She stood, squeezing your shoulder lightly as she handed the mic back, the contact lingering just a second too long, and then she was gone.

You blinked after her, shaking your head a little as you straightened in your seat.

“Get it together,” you muttered under your breath, adjusting your dress.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. A few more interviews, lots of smiles, polite laughter but your mind kept replaying her.

Finally, hours later, you sat at a small lounge area off to the side, checking the time on your phone. Five more minutes, and you could officially leave. You sighed, letting your head rest back against the chair.

“Long night?”

You turned and there she was. Paige.

Standing there, still looking stupidly good, her hands tucked casually into her pants pockets.

You smirked. “You stalking me now?”

“Maybe,” she said, grinning, sliding into the seat next to you.

This close, you could smell her perfume, clean and a little sweet. She turned slightly toward you, her knee brushing yours lightly.

The air between you felt electric again like something important was about to happen.

“You were great earlier,” she said, voice a little softer, a little rougher. “Had me laughing the whole time.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “I aim to please.”

She leaned in just slightly, eyes locked onto yours. “You do a good job of it.”

You were fully engaged now, giving back every ounce of energy she was throwing at you. Your posture, your smirk, the teasing glint in your eyes, it was all deliberate. It was fun. Dangerous.

Just when you opened your mouth to throw a cheeky comment back, Maggie appeared behind you, tapping your shoulder.

“Car’s ready,” she said.

You groaned dramatically. “Five more minutes, Maggie.”

Maggie just rolled her eyes and walked off, clearly used to your antics.

You gathered your clutch and started standing up when Paige said quickly, “Wait—can I get your number?”

You paused, pretending to think it over, tapping your finger against your chin. “Hmm. I don’t know…do you deserve it?”

Paige raised an eyebrow, challenging. “I’d like to think so.”

You glanced around, spotted a Sharpie on the table, and grabbed it. Without another word, you gently took Paige’s arm, rolled up the sleeve of her jacket just enough, and scribbled your Instagram handle in bold, black ink across the inside of her forearm.

You capped the pen and handed it back, smirking. “You have to work for the number. Start there. I’m here until the 19th.”

Paige looked down at her arm, then back up at you, pure amusement and interest written all over her face.

“Challenge accepted,” she murmured.

You shot her a wink, then turned and walked off toward the exit, feeling her eyes burning into your back the whole way.

Behind you, Paige just sat there, arm resting on the back of the chair, staring at the Instagram handle scrawled on her skin, a smug, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips.

The past few days had felt like something out of a dream, one you didn’t quite want to wake up from.

Since the draft night, you and Paige had been nearly inseparable. Breakfasts that turned into lunches. Exploring Dallas, discovering hidden coffee shops, cozy bookstores, late-night drives with the windows down and music blasting.

There was something about Paige, something easy and magnetic, that made you drop your guard quicker than you ever thought you could. You weren’t usually the type to let people in so fast, but with her? It felt natural.

She made you laugh until your sides hurt, challenged you in every little way, and had this habit of looking at you like you were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

Now, it was your last night before you had to catch your flight back to London, back to Arsenal, back to the chaos of your life.

Neither of you had said it out loud, but the weight of it hung in the air.

You were sprawled out on her couch, the two of you a tangle of limbs, comfortable and lazy. The TV was playing something neither of you were watching, the golden glow of the setting sun pouring in through the windows.

Paige nudged you with her foot. “Twenty questions.”

You turned your head to look at her, grinning. “Childish.”

“Scared?” she teased, one eyebrow raised.

“Never.”

You shifted to face her fully, folding your legs underneath you. “Fine. You start.”

“Okay.” Paige bit her lip, thinking. “Favorite color?”

You snorted. “Weak start. Black. Obviously.”

“You’re so emo,” she teased.

“Yeah? What’s yours, Bueckers?”

“Purple,” she answered easily.

You nodded. “You look like you like purple.”

You volleyed back and forth, favorite foods, hidden talents, weirdest fears (hers: snakes; yours: accidentally locking yourself in a bathroom at a party).

The questions grew slower, deeper. What’s your happiest memory? What scares you most about getting older? How do you actually cope with the fame?

That one hit differently. You stared at the ceiling for a second before answering.

“I don’t know if I do,” you said finally. “I think I just… compartmentalize. Like, there’s me, the person, and then there’s the version of me people want. And I just…try not to let them touch too much.”

Paige watched you quietly, eyes impossibly soft.

“You’re good at pretending,” she said, almost like it wasn’t a question.

You chuckled under your breath. “Yeah. You too.”

There was a beat of silence. The kind that was heavy and thick but not uncomfortable. Just… charged.

You didn’t know who moved first, maybe it was both of you at once, but suddenly Paige was shifting closer, and you were mirroring her without even thinking.

“Your turn,” she said, voice low.

You wet your lips, heart hammering. “What are you thinking right now?”

Paige’s eyes darkened, a slow, smoldering look that made your whole body tighten with anticipation.

“I’m thinking about how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” she said, voice almost a whisper now.

Your breath caught, not from shock, but from pure, overwhelming want. You didn’t speak. You just leaned in, your hand finding her cheek, thumb brushing lightly across her skin. And then her lips were on yours. It started slow, gentle, almost cautious.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, feeling Paige’s fingers slide up to bury themselves in your hair. Her other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against her.

You kissed like you were starving for it, mouths parting, breathing each other in, that sweet sting of desperation hanging between you.

You shifted your body, swinging a leg over her lap without even thinking, straddling her. Her hands found your hips instantly, gripping tight, anchoring you to her.

She pulled back for half a second, just enough to look up at you—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Can I have your number now?” she asked, slightly breathless, but that same teasing glint still dancing in her eyes.

You grinned, slow and wicked, pretending to think about it.

And then, instead of answering, you leaned down and kissed her again, harder this time, teeth grazing her bottom lip in a way that made her groan low in her throat.

She pulled you closer, her hands roaming your sides, fingertips dragging against the thin fabric of your shorts, touch after touch setting your nerves on fire.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other.

“You’re a tease,” Paige murmured, her voice wrecked and fond all at once.

“You like it,” you whispered back.

She laughed, that gorgeous, laugh that made your chest ache, and tightened her hold on you like she wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

The locker room buzzed with the usual pregame energy, music blasting, boots being laced, jerseys being pulled over heads. You were tucked into your little corner, half-dressed in your kit, phone perched secretly in your hands as your thumbs moved fast over the screen.

p buckets 🩷

Good luck today superstar. Wish I could sneak down there and see you before the game starts.

You bit your lip to hide the stupid smile tugging at your mouth, your cheeks burning. You quickly fired back a reply.

you

behave, bueckers. you’ll distract me.

Almost immediately, another text pinged.

p buckets 🩷

No promises. You’re too fine in that jersey.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out, low, giddy, and you bowed your head, trying to be subtle about it.

Too late. Katie McCabe, the nosiest, loudest teammate you had, caught sight of you immediately.

She strutted over, towel thrown around her neck, and leaned down into your space.

“Alright, who’s got you smiling like a little idiot, huh?” she teased, smirking.

You jumped slightly, snapping your phone against your thigh and shoving it behind you.

“No one!” you blurted out way too fast.

Katie laughed, throwing her arm around your shoulders. “Yeah, sure, tell me another one.”

Before you could even come up with a terrible excuse, another figure appeared, Leah Williamson herself, captain, protector, honorary big sister. She had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, clearly sensing blood in the water.

Chloe Kelly, recently back from on loan from Man City and another big-sister figure in your life, wasn’t far behind. The two of them exchanged one look, a deadly one, before closing in on you like sharks smelling blood.

“Who is it?” Leah demanded, half-joking, half-serious.

“No one!” you insisted again, your voice climbing an octave.

“Why you lying for?” Chloe chimed in, laughing. “We’ve known you since you were running around the training ground in your big cleats.”

Leah nodded solemnly. “Exactly. We know your tells.”

“I don’t have tells!” you whined.

They both raised their eyebrows.

“Yeah? Then why are you blushing like a tomato, little one?” Katie added, winking.

You were about to come up with some desperate, terrible lie when Renee, your head coach, clapped her hands loudly from across the room.

“Alright, enough!” Renee barked, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Eyes up here, team meeting!”

You exhaled a huge breath of relief as everyone shuffled toward the center of the room.

Katie shot you a wink. Leah narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. Chloe mouthed we’re not done before turning away.

You shook your head, cheeks still hot, and tucked your phone away safely in your locker.

The game against Lyon was electric — exactly what you expected from a Champions League semi-final first leg.

It ended tied 2–2, a hard-fought, emotional battle with moments of brilliance from both sides. You had picked up an assist and drawn the foul that led to your team’s penalty. Not bad, but you were already replaying every moment in your head, thinking about how you could have done even more.

After the final whistle, you did your usual rounds, clapping the fans, signing shirts, tossing your training jacket into the crowd.

It was the best part of nights like this, connecting with the people who supported you through it all.

You made your way along the barricades, signing shirts, hats, even a football boot at one point. And then you saw her.

Paige.

Leaning casually against the barrier, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, wearing a simple black Nike hoodie and jeans, somehow still managing to look unfairly good.

The second your eyes locked, you felt yourself light up like a firework.

You tried—tried—to keep it cool, but your grin cracked through instantly.

“Hey, superstar,” Paige teased as you got closer.

“Hey yourself, rookie,” you fired back, feeling breathless for absolutely no reason.

You signed a few more things for kids near her, pretending not to be in a rush to get to her. Finally, you stopped right in front of her.

“You want something signed, Bueckers?” you teased, tapping the Sharpie against her hoodie.

She smirked, mischief in her eyes. “Depends. You gonna make it special for me?”

You chuckled lowly, took a dramatic, exaggerated breath and then, grinning wide, you grabbed the hem of her hoodie and scribbled your signature across it. A big, messy, ridiculous signature.

“Collectible now,” you said, handing the pen back and winking.

She laughed, brushing her fingers lightly against yours as she took it, a little lingering, a little too casual. You felt the shiver go down your spine.

You two kept flirting, kept leaning a little closer than necessary, exchanging little touches that burned hotter every second. Then you felt it. That disruptive energy.

You peeked over Paige’s shoulder and sure enough across the pitch, perched near the tunnel, Leah and Chloe were squinting hard in your direction. Hands on hips. Mouths slightly open like they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing.

You rolled your eyes and groaned dramatically.

“Problem?” Paige teased, noticing your sudden change in vibe.

“Just my bodyguards,” you said dryly.

She laughed, low and knowing.

“I’ll see you after I finish up,” you said, stepping back slightly but still reluctant to leave.

“You better,” she said, eyes twinkling.

You shot her one last grin, before jogging back toward the tunnel but not before blowing her a playful kiss that made her shake her head and laugh under her breath.

The whistle blew and the Emirates erupted.

5–1.

Five to one.

You could barely hear yourself think over the roar of the crowd, your teammates piling onto you, hugging, shouting, screaming their lungs out.

You had scored a banger, a left-footed rocket into the top corner, and you could still feel the buzz in your veins.

Arsenal Women were going to the Champions League final. The first time in eighteen years.

You stumbled around the pitch with the others, grinning so hard your face hurt, high-fiving everyone you could reach.

Confetti was already starting to drift down like snow. Flags waving, chants booming from the stands. It was a dream.

You turned, soaking it all in and then your eyes swept the crowd. And there she was.

Standing just beyond the barriers, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, a soft smile on her lips as she watched you.

The second your eyes locked, you lit up like the fourth of July.

You grinned wide, practically bouncing on the spot, and jerked your head toward her, mouthing wait for me.

You tore through your usual post-game routine, signing shirts, tossing your training top into the stands, posing for a few pictures, rushing but trying not to make it obvious.

The second you got close enough, you didn’t even think. You launched yourself over the barrier, right into Paige’s arms.

She caught you instantly, strong and sure, wrapping you up and lifting you slightly off the ground. You laughed into her neck as she swung you side to side, holding you tight like she wasn’t planning on letting go.

“I am so proud of you,” she murmured into your ear, voice warm and full of something that made your heart squeeze painfully.

You pulled back just enough to see her, your faces inches apart, still smiling, still dizzy with adrenaline and joy. And then, without a second thought, Paige leaned in and crashed her lips onto yours.

It was messy and breathless and perfect, the taste of victory and salt and something sweeter you didn’t have a name for yet. Her hands cupped your jaw, yours grabbed fistfuls of her shirt, both of you entirely forgetting the rest of the world existed.

Unfortunately, the rest of the world had not forgotten about you.

A chorus of screams shattered the moment. You cracked one eye open to see Leah and Chloe a few meters away, standing on the edge of the pitch, pointing at you dramatically.

“OI!! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” Leah shouted, voice high with betrayal.

“YOU’RE DEAD! DEAD DEAD DEAD!” Chloe screeched, looking two seconds away from vaulting the barrier herself.

You snorted into Paige’s shoulder, half laughing, half dying of second-hand embarrassment.

Thankfully, Lia Wälti appeared behind them like an angel. She threw an arm across both Leah’s and Chloe’s chests, physically restraining them like they were wild animals about to bolt.

She caught your eye over their heads, gave you a slow, exaggerated wink, and mouthed go!

You grinned wickedly, stuck your tongue out at Leah and Chloe, and watched as their shrieks of protest somehow got even louder.

You turned back to Paige, still tucked safely against her. “Let’s go,” you whispered urgently, laughing under your breath. “Before they break free and I have to explain to the board why Leah Williamson murdered me in public.”

Paige grinned, grabbed your hand tightly in hers, and tugged you away into the bowels of the stadium—running, laughing, hearts pounding, hand in hand, your futures cracking wide open right behind you.

[leviruthan]

accidentally confessing to them while you were drunk pt.2

characters: vice housewardens minus ortho. jamil + other overbloat guys are here

You had a rough day. Between classes and Grim's annoying behavior plus the amount of assignment that the professors keep piling up- you were stressed and exhausted. Nothing new, to be honest. When a few students suggested grabbing drinks at the "Mystery Shack" you agreed, figuring you deserved to chill a little. One drink turned into two and before you knew it, you were... drunk and extremely relaxed.

That's when you found yourself face-to-face with him. Whoever it is, the result is the same. A rush of feelings amplified by the alcohol, leading to a embarrassing and honest (accidental) confession.

TREY CLOVER

Trey wasn't the type to go to places like that on his own. But he was there because, as Heartslabyul's unofficial mom, he'd been roped into keeping an eye on his dormmates (and Cater begged him to come along) Someone had to make sure Ace didn't start a bar fight or something similar. He was nursing a glass of simple water, his usual calm smile in place. Then you stumbled over to his table with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

"Trey!" you exclaimed, a cheerful smile on your face before plopping down across from him with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. "I didn't...expect to see you here. You're so… so nice. Too nice. It's your fault that I am totally.... you're too good!"

He is somewhat surprised to see you so intoxicated, your words not even making sense. But kind of found it cute honestly. He raised an amused eyebrow. "Is that so? I think I'm just average."

"Nooo!" you protested, leaning forward so fast you nearly knocked over his drink. "You're like… a warm cookie! Fresh from the oven. All soft and perfect and....and...and I love you okay?! And you smell like cinnamon" you leaned forward towards him then sniffed him. "...And I wanna kiss you and all that!"

The table went silent. Trey’s smile froze, his glass halfway to his lips. The students nearby choked on their drinks, and Ace let out a low whistle. Your confession hung in the air like the elephant in the room, loud and gloriously mortifying. Before Trey could respond, you decided the best course of action was to drape yourself across the table, grab his hand, and press a sloppy kiss to his knuckle. "I think I really really really like youu..."

Trey brain short-circuited. He was used to handling chaotic situations, but this? This was uncharted territory. His ears turned pink and he let out a nervous chuckle. He gently sets his hand free. "Okay, let’s… slow down there. You’re probably gonna regret this tomorrow."

You didn’t hear him. You already passed out with your face smushed against the table, snoring softly. Trey sighed with a hand running through his hair. He couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in his chest at your words even if they were fueled by alcohol. 

Though he did not think he would ever admit it. He always thought you were cute. Your determination, the way you devour his desserts with that big grin... and well everything.

But he is practical, always putting duty first. So he never let himself dwell on it. Your confession whether drunken or not, hits him harder than he expects. He feels torn between dismissing it as alcohol-fueled nonsense and hoping there's some truth to it. Either way, he isn't going to let you stumble home alone.

He gently pries you off the stool, slinging your arm over his shoulder. "....Well, let’s just get you home before you confess to the bartender next," he mutters. He carries you back to Ramshackle.

He tucked you into bed, left a glass of water and some painkillers on your nightstand. And tried not to overthink the way his heart skipped when you mumbled his name in your sleep.

You woke up with a headache that felt like a stampeding wildebeest and vague memories of humiliating yourself. 

Trey isn't one to make a big deal out of things, so when you run into him he's casual as ever. And when you stammer, obviously mortified about last night, he simply chuckles. "You were pretty talkative," he teases a little leaning closer to you. Your face burns.

"Don't worry, I won't hold you to it. Unless you meant it." He leaves it at that. His tone was gentle, leaving the door open without pushing it. You nodded, face burning. Trey wasn’t going to let you drown in embarrassment. He was giving you a chance to figure out what you really felt, one batch of cookies at a time.

RUGGIE BUCCHI

The Mystery Shack was a goldmine for Ruggie Bucchi.

Ruggie is here for one reason: free food. Some Savanaclaw upperclassmen were bragging about sneaking snacks from the Shack's kitchen. And of course Ruggie wasn't one to miss a hustle. He tagged along to supervise. He's got a plate of pilfered chicken wings and a smug grin, dodging the bartender's suspicious glares while scoping out any unattended drinks.

You were meanwhile drowning your sorrows in a third glass of something sparkly and purple. Your head is spinning. Everything feels dreamy.

You’re leaning against the bar, laughing too loud at a bad joke. When he notices you Ruggie slides up with a half-eaten sandwich in hand. "Yeesh, Prefect, you’re a mess," he teases with a smirk. "How many of those fruity things you had? You look two seconds away from faceplanting onto the ground. That will be a sight to see."

Your brain is swimming, and Ruggie’s sly grin is doing weird things to your heart. You completely ignore what he's talking about. Before you can think (well you aren't very thinky right now) you grab his sleeve and blurt, "Ruggie, I like you. You're so cute."

Ruggie's eyes widen at the unprompted response that you just gave. He nearly chokes on his sandwich. "H-Huh?! What's that supposed to mean?!" He laughs, but it’s nervous, his tail flicking behind him. "You're drunk as a skunk, aren't ya? Dont go saying weird stuff."

"No, I mean it." you insist, swaying closer. "You're always helping me out even though you act like you aren't. And your laugh's all… hehe… I love it. You're a scrappy little hyena who steals my heart along with snacks!" you giggle like the fool you were currently. Leaning forward to clumsily hug him, you almost fall. He barely catches you because he's caught super off guard.

Ruggie's brain has been frozen, ears twitching as his brain processed your words. The nearby Savanaclaw students snickered. Leona who was lounging in a corner, raised an eyebrow with a smirk like he was watching a particularly entertaining soap opera. 

Ruggie is so flustered. Scratching his cheek to hide the blush. "Tch, you’re gonna make me lose my appetite," he grumbles, but he doesn't pull away when you lean on him. "C'mon, let’s get you somewhere you won’t embarrass yourself worse. And, uh… maybe we'll talk about this when you're not three sheets to the wind, yeah?"

You're already all over him. Throwing your arms around his shoulders and ruffling his hair, cooing about how soft his ears are. "So fluffy!" you squeal, trying to pet them while he squirms, half-laughing, half-protesting.

You passed out thanks to being too intoxicated, slumping against his shoulder with a contented sigh. 

Ruggie is a pragmatist. He doesn’t trust easily. And feelings are a luxury he rarely affords. But you've always been different, someone who matches his hustle without judgment. Your confession while sloppy, makes his chest feel weirdly tight. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol talking or if you actually mean it. But the thought of you picking him over everyone else? It's got him feeling really giddy. He’s not falling head over heels just yet. But he’s definitely very intrigued.

With a muttered curse, he slung your arm over his shoulder and hauled you back to Ramshackle, grumbling about extra work the whole way.

When you ran into him at the cafeteria next time, he was his usual cheeky self. He snagged an extra donut from your tray with a grin.

"Yo. You look like death warmed over." he said, his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual. When you mumbled an apology for last night, he waved it off.

"Eh, you were drunk. Happens. But, uh… you meant any of that? Cause I ain't opposed to a partner in crime, just so you know." His tone was casual, but you can see his ears are perked. Waiting for your answer.

You stammered, blushing because it was pretty embarrassing. His grin told you he wasn't going to let you off easy. Ruggie wasn’t one for mushy stuff, but he was giving you a chance to figure out if your drunken confession had any truth to it. And maybe, just maybe, he was hoping it did.

JADE LEECH

The Mystery Shack wasn’t Jade's usual scene, but he was there on business. Floyd had dragged him along to scope out the competition. Apparently, the Shack's signature drinks were cutting into Mostro Lounge's profits. 

Jade is observing the crowd AKA gathering intel for Azul. The bar's a for gossip. And he's sipping something non-alcoholic. All polite smiles and sharp eyes. He notices you're there and decides to "check in" for his own amusement.

You're wobbling near the dance floor, humming off-key. Then Jade appears like he materialized from thin air. "My, my, you seem to be enjoying yourself," he says with that smooth as ever voice. "Do take care not to overdo it, hmm?"

His teasing tone and that infuriatingly perfect smile hit you like a tidal wave. The alcohol loosens your tongue, and you blurt out of the blue "Jade?? You're....ugh, I... Your creepy charm has got me all messed up!"

Jade's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before his smile sharpens, delighted. He's thinking you're obviously speaking bullshit stuff without any thought. But it's entertaining so he pushes further. "Oh? What a fascinating development," he purrs, leaning closer. "I must say, I didn't expect such words from you. How terribly intriguing."

"I’m serious!" you hiccup, pointing at him. "You're all polite BUT scary and… it’s so damn hot. You're a low-key terrifying dude. But hot terrifying. I like you. I wanna go mushroom hunting with you and..hic..maybe kiss you in the woods or something." You laugh, spilling a bit of your drink. Oblivious to the way his eyes glint and his smile widens.

He chuckles, low and dangerous. He's clearly enjoying this far too much. "Dear me, such bold words. I wonder if you'll feel the same come morning." He gently steers you toward a quieter corner, his hand on your back. "Let's ensure you don’t make any more reckless declarations tonight. Though I must admit, I'm rather curious to see if this confession truly holds water."

You weren't listening. You leaned closer, nearly tipping over. You’re touchy like never, leaning against his arm and tracing the edge of his glove, looking fascinated by the texture. "So fancy..." you mumble. Then try to hug him only to almost fall miserably.

Jade catches you with ease. Chuckling as you babble about how and why you like him. He's enjoying it, somehow it's more entertaining than anything else even if he mostly thinks you're just saying such things cause you're drunk. He lets you cling while steering you away from spilling more drink on him.

Steadying you as you swayed, he said, "Such bold words. I'll have to hold you to them when you're sober."

But you were already out, slumping against his chest with a soft snore. Jade sighed, a mix of amusement and exasperation. He carefully lifted you, carrying you back to Ramshackle with Floyd trailing behind, still snickering. He left you tucked in with a glass of water and a single pristine mushroom on your nightstand. A strange Jade-like token so you know Jade was here.

"What a fascinating evening," he smiles cryptically after tucking you in with much care, looking at you one last time before leaving.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a mushroom staring at you accusingly. You remember you probably bothered Jade last night. And some memory that feel like a dream. Anyway you went to see him soon. When you ran into Jade at the Mostro Lounge, he was infuriatingly composed, polishing a glass with that same enigmatic smile. He tells you to take a seat first.

He brings it up because of course he isn't letting you get away with that. His smile is sharp. "You were quite the spectacle last night. Care to clarify your sentiments?"

You tilt your head. The night was a foggy mess that didn't feel real.But all you can think is that you probably humiliated yourself to an extent. You haven't confirmed them yet. "Sentiments?"

He leans onto the table, coming face to face with you, voice smooth as silk. "You expressed such great admiration, I am quite hurt you can't remember," but he is smiling like always.

The memories crash in or well, they're now confirmed. And you cringe. "I didn’t mean to- okay so" you sigh, deciding since you've come this far might as well... "I do.. like you, but I didn’t want to say it like that! Can we just forget it?"

Jade's smile widens, a hint of genuine warmth beneath the menace. "Forget? Oh, but I’m far too intrigued. Shall we discuss this further… privately?" You have this eel hooked, but he'll toy with you first, savoring every flustered reaction.

ROOK HUNT

The Mystery Shack was the perfect hunting ground for Rook Hunt, who was there observing beauty (people-watching with unsettling intensity). He had been invited by some Pomefiore students who wanted his poetic input on their new cocktail recipes, and Rook couldn't resist of course.

You were trying to forget your miserable life with a fourth glass of something glittery and alarmingly sweet. And it was too good that you kept drinking even though you started feeling dizzy.

You spotted Rook perched on a barstool saying poetic stuff about the whatever.

"Rook!" you called, stumbling over with a dopey grin. "You’re so weird! But good weird! Anddd! I love you! You're like a sparkly arrow that shoots right through my heart! Hehe!" You giggle like an excited child.

His reaction is super accepting. Rook's eyes light up and he claps like you've just performed a Shakespearean soliloquy. "Mon tresor, what passion!" he exclaims, absolutely enchanted.

His enthusiasm made drunk you even more enthusiastic. "I wanna...hic...write cheesy poems together." You grab his hand, looking up at him with starry eyes and a shy smile.

He so thrilled by your raw emotion, even if it was fueled by cheap vodka. The idea of you as his poetic muse is already spiraling into a dozen romantic fantasies in his head. 

"Such raw, unfiltered beauté!" You threw your arms around him, nuzzling his shoulder and mumbling about how he was too pretty for this world.

Rook is over the moon. He lives for grand gestures and heartfelt declarations, and your confession is like a gift wrapped in glitter. He always admired your authenticity, your ability to shine despite everything. This just seals it. You're his muse, his star, his raison d'être. He’s already planning a forest picnic to celebrate your "heart's truth". 

"Alas, my dear, you are far too radiant for your own good!" he said. But you weren't awake to hear it because you passed out in his arms with a blissful smile. Rook carried you back to Ramshackle like a knight bearing a sleeping princess. He left you tucked in with a handwritten poem on your nightstand. About how beautifully you have expressed your feelings. (too much credit lmao)

When you you next saw him you wanted to hide in a bush. "Rook, I was drunk. I am so sorry for the trouble-"

"Non, non!" he interrupted, leaning forward and pressing a finger to your lips. "There is no shame in truth. I am enchanted, and I await your next verse- sober or otherwise." He winked, leaving you flustered but oddly charmed. Rook wasn't going to let this go, but he will give you time to decide if your feelings were real. He sure hopes they are!

LILIA VANROUGE

Lilia was at the Mystery Shack for fun of course. He's flitting around, and trying all the dangerous and hardcore drinks. Being a fae and being as experienced as he was of course he wasn't getting drunk or anything. He's just chatting with students like he was one of them.

You you were on your first drink. A a student said it was light. Spoiler, it wasn’t. Your head was a carnival ride.

You're just lazing around on a couch, giggling at the ceiling for no particular reason. Lilia plops down beside you cause he noticed you were here! And what else to do than bother his favorite human? His grin is in full force. "Khee hee, you’re quite the sight tonight, little one" he teases. "Had a bit too much, have we?"

His playful energy is infectious, and in your drunken haze you grab his sleeve and blurt "Lilia, you're so cool. How can you be so old yet so cute? I like you."

Lilia cackles, nearly falling off the couch. "Oh, my! Such fervor!" he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're a bold one, confessing to an old bat like me. But I must warn you my heart is a tricky thing to catch." His tone is light and amused.

"I'm serious! Don't take it as a joke!!" you slur, poking his cheek. But who could really take you seriously in this state? "I really like you. I wanna be around you foreveeeer!"

"Khee hee, forever's a long time, Dearie," he says, patting your head. "Lets get you sobered up before you pledge your eternal soul, hmm?" He is mostly just finding it funny.

Lilia has lived centuries, so he's not easily swept off his feet. But your drunken confession is certainly adorable. He's always liked your nature. Your honest heartfelt words make him feel oddly fond. He’s not falling in love yet but he's definitely attached. He lived long enough to know genuine affection when he saw it. And yours was as real as it was hilarious.

As expected you passed out soon. Head on his shoulder as you drool slightly. Lilia chuckled and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. Lilia floats you home (literally) while humming a lullaby.

The next day he’s at Ramshackle, dangling upside-down. You almost became a Ramshackle ghost out of scare. He laughed when you screamed.

"Khee hee heee, Good morning, my dear!" he chirped. "You were quite the love drunk last night? I’m flattered, I must admit!"

You groaned, hiding your face. "Lilia, I’m so sorry. I was drunk-"

"Nonsense!" he interrupted, floating over to pat your head. "It was delightful. And not entirely unwelcome! Shall we explore this 'forever' you spoke of, hm?" His tone is teasing but the smile he gives you is warm, leaving you flustered but hopeful. Lilia wasn't going to push, though will tease you. But he is definitely intrigued and he will make sure you knew it.

[nitewingbabi]

↳ please respond…I showed you my cock            ⚤ ghostface x female!reader  【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 ✉ taking requests part 2 ▻ a pretty mouth

2023 was a different year for everyone. Covid was 2020's big killer, and now ghostface seemed to be claiming 2023 as his year. You were one of his taunting targets. Text messages, phone calls, notes in your locker or mail. He had even been in your room once to leave a message on your mirror.

‘I like the red ones’ which was referring to your panties that you were trying on the other day after doing some much needed retail therapy with some friends. 

Your group was getting smaller and smaller as more students were murdered, kidnapped or not heard from in weeks. Curfew was getting shorter that soon enough school was sure to be cancelled until the police solved whoever was running around killing everyone. 

It’s Tuesday night and you just finished showering, you had been blowdrying your hair for the last 20 minutes. The recent news far from your thoughts, the truck load of school work that was due was giving you a migraine. Finally your hair was dried and you were ready to slip into bed and start your assignment. You turned your TV on, immediately putting on your current Netflix show that you were binging. 

Eyes flicking back and forth from your laptop screen to your TV. You hadn’t checked your phone since you started to shower and noticed you had multiple messages from an unknown number. But it wasn’t unknown to you. You knew exactly who it was. 

Unknown Number +1**********

➤ quiet night? 

➤ parents aren’t home. 

➤ neighbours are out of town. 

You had only had one actual physical contact with ghostface which was two weeks ago. He chased you around your house until your neighbours came barging in and he ran away. Ever since you had your parents change the locks and debate whether or not to send you across the country to live with your aunt and uncle until it was all over. You pleaded that they didn’t and instead they paid for a self defence class for you. 

Your phone buzzed again, drawing your attention away from the TV. 

Unknown Number +***********

➤ i liked the little show you put on for me the other day. 

➤ wish i had been there to ruin those little red panties 

You weren’t sure what to write back, you sat there debating if you should even write anything back and entertain this creep. 

Just as you put your phone down, the screen lit up and the room echoed from your ringtone. 

Unknown Caller 

You weren’t sure if you should pick up, but something inside you made you do it. 

“Hello?” You hesitantly asked as you held the device up to your ear. Waiting to hear that deep voice that you couldn’t recognise. 

“Hello y/n. Enjoying your show?” Your eyes met your TV screen to see your show playing still on low volume. You turned the TV off, quickly standing to your feet to look out your window. It was barely lit outside from the streetlight and nothing seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. 

“Who is this? Why are you tormenting me?” You had asked the question too many times that it was just routine, you’d hope that one time he would budge and just tell you. 

“The question isn’t who I am. the question is where I am.” You heart began to race, eyes searching endlessly out your window, he had to be close by. You suddenly felt the booty shorts and crop top that you had slid into wasn’t the best attire to be wearing at home alone whilst being stalked by a psycho. 

“Look asshole, you wanna play games. I can play.” You weren’t sure what you exact plan was, but it was the first thing to pop into your head. Were you terrified of ghostface? Yes. But did it also arouse you how much he called you, texted you, the fact he had probably seen you naked countless times, even possibly pleasured himself to the sight of you. 

“Oh yeah? In the mood for monopoly?” He chuckled darkly on the other end, you could only hope he was still watching you from where he was. With your free hand you danced your fingers down your torso, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and panties and itching your way to your centre that was throbbing. You could hear a deep growl on the other end. 

You chuckled into the phone, knowing he was definitely watching you now. You breathed a soft moan as your fingertip circles your juicy clit, using your arousal as lube to slick your finger around the bundle of nerves. Your moans grew louder and your mouth fell agape as you began walking backwards onto your bed, allowing yourself to fall back into the plush mattress and send yourself into a bliss. 

You had forgotten about ghostface, your phone falling from your ear to beside your head. 

“Hey!” Your eyes popped open as you remembered he was still on the other end. You quickly grabbed it, slowing your circles to keep yourself on edge. 

“I want to hear your pretty cries when you cum, I want you to cum to me and only me. You got that princess?” His words were sharp and threatening, just like the blade he used to murder your friends. God you were getting turned on and touching yourself to a psycho killer. The unexpected happened next. A snapchat notification came through. 

Gfce23 added you on Snapchat! 

It was him. It had to be. You accepted, still working yourself and slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt to get more arousal on your clit. 

Immediately a video came through, along with a few photos. You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be on the other end. You had to take the chance though, you were too far down the rabbit hole. 

“Open them, I want you to see what you fucking do to me.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, you could tell he was jerking himself on the other end or something. You clicked on the purple square. Your eyes met a hard cock, veiny and thick. The tip an enraged red with a slight purple tinge. A single drop of precum oozing out the slit and his black leather glove wrapped around his cock. 

The video began playing and his hand jerked his cock slowly, throaty moans echoing as the video continued to play and that drop of precum dripped down his pinkish shaft. A small bush of pubic hair that led to a faint snail trail and a set of what you could only guess were abs. 

His hand got faster and his moans got faster as he pumped himself hard in his hand, but before you could view more you heard your parents car pulling into the driveway with their faint music blaring. 

Ghostface was in the back of your mind as you quickly closed your phone and got settled into bed. Ghostface didn’t call you back, didn’t text you and didn’t send anything else to you that night. But that does’t mean he let you off easy. 

It had only been a few days since you last heard from ghostface, but when you did you were surprised to see the message he had sent through was not his usual taunting, threatening approach. 

Unkown Number +**********

➤ i want to see that pretty pussy spread out tonight 

➤ leave your window unlocked

➤ i know your parents wont be home

➤ hope you like it rough princess

[jockbroski34]

AlterEgo

The last thing I expected on my 20th birthday was to receive a gift from Cody, my roommate.  We were never close, and there was no way in hell he actually knew much about me to know it was my birthday without me telling him.  Him and I were basically complete opposites.  While I was your typical nerd, smart, introverted, and so on, he was basically your typical jock in all the worst ways.  He was boisterous, arrogant, and a total meathead.  We mostly agreed to stay out of each others’ way, considering our irreconcilable differences, but that didn’t stop him from being a massive pain in the ass.  His room was constantly in a state of disarray, with sweaty clothes scattered all over the place.  As such, I often avoided being anywhere near his room if necessary since it smelled like a locker room.  He often invited over his “bros” who were just as bad.  Whether they were hogging the TV to watch whatever game was on, smuggling alcohol into our dorm to get wasted, or playing catch in the fucking living room, they were always a nuisance.  And whenever I brought any of that up to him, he would always end up saying something like “It’s not that serious, dude.  We were just having a good time.”  Yeah, a good time at my expense.  Whoever assigned the two of us to live together must’ve thought this was some twisted joke.

I woke up at 9 AM, still a little tired from last night.  I hung out at one of my friends’ dorms to celebrate my birthday.  I yawned, and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast.  I saw Cody was up as well, his legs spread across the couch, to the point that he was taking up two seats, watching something on the TV that was several volume levels too loud for me.

“Hey bro, today’s your birthday right?”  Cody asked, as he tilted his head to face me.

“Uhh, yeah.  How did you know?”  I responded.

“Oh don’t worry about it, bro.  Happy birthday!”  I saw him get up and run to his disorganized room, likely to grab something for me.  I could see a pair of worn gym shorts on the floor through the crack in the door.  He pulled out an old Nike shoe box, since he likely had nothing better to put a gift in.  “I’ve been saving this for you.  I hope you like it!”  Is this his way of trying to get on my good side?

I rolled my eyes since I doubt he got me anything I would enjoy.  He probably just got me something that he’d enjoy, like some tight-fitting tank top or protein powder or something.  Not that I work out or anything.  The only gift I’d want from him is for him to stop being a douche.  I opened the box and I was surprised about what I saw.  It was a video game.  Not any that I’d ever heard of.  I looked at the box art and the words AlterEgo were written in a wacky, colorful font.

“Yeah, I knew you like video games, so I found this for you.  I heard on the internet that it’s pretty nitch…nichy…what’s the word…”

“Niche?”  I responded.  I had to admit, him struggling to pronounce the word right was a little amusing.  As amusing as being with a simpleton like him could be.

“That’s the word!  I got it for myself, but I realized like half an hour in that it wasn’t my thing.  I’m happy with what I have right now.  I figured you’d probably get more out of it than me.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, dude.  Anyways, I gotta hit the gym.  I’m gonna be out all day so you have the PS5 all to yourself.  Hope you enjoy it bro!”

I watch him leave, thankful to have some peace and quiet.  As I ate breakfast, I read the back of the cover in order to figure out what this game was about.

“Become a new you!  In this life simulation adventure, you can become any kind of person you want and live any way you choose.  Control your fictional avatar, your AlterEgo, and level up your stats to become closer to your true self.”

The game seemed something like The Sims or Animal Crossing, but with some stat progression system.  It was a game that I had never heard of, but it could be some hidden gem.  The rest of the back was filled with screenshots from the game with the cartoony characters doing activities such as cooking, jogging, and riding a motorcycle.  I figured I might as well try the game since I did get it for free.  Even if it was from Cody, I wasn’t one to refuse someone’s generosity.

I put the game in the disk slot and booted it up.  The title screen had that same logo and some bubbly background music.  I pressed the start button and I was presented with a save selection screen.  I noticed that Cody’s save was on there, which was odd because I was playing on my account.  I knew I should’ve put a password on it.  I wanted to make my own character, but part of me was curious about the character that he made.  Knowing him, I can only guess.  His game time was less than an hour, as he was only on Day 1, and he likely spent most of that time on the character creation screen.

I started his save and my character was sitting in his room.  At this point, it was very bare, with only a bed and a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered around the room.  I guess the character starts by moving into their new home?  I went into the menu to find more information about the character.  The character was named Cody obviously and his AlterEgo somewhat matched him too.  I went into the stats screen and I was greeted by a tutorial.

“Here you can check your AlterEgo’s stats.  You have already set your initial growth modifiers and assigned your base stats.  If you need a refresher, whatever stats you chose your AlterEgo to excel at are highlighted in red and the ones you chose to trade off are highlighted in blue.  This means that your AlterEgo will grow in the stats in red much faster and prioritize activities that increase those stats and avoid activities associated with increasing your stats in blue.  As you play, your AlterEgo will naturally develop into one of hundreds of potential archetypes based on the activities that they excel at.  Experiment and see who you become!”

I looked at the stat screen and saw a list of stats with a bar indicating percentage level.  The stats included Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Courage, Charisma, and Luck.  Not too far off from DnD I guess.  It seemed like he chose to have Strength and Constitution as his highest stats as their font was colored red and Intelligence and Wisdom as his weakest stats as they were colored in blue.  Gee, why am I not surprised…  Cody was anything but a genius.  It seemed like he had 20 initial points to allocate wherever he chose with a default limit of 5.  And I was equally not surprised to find that my meathead roommate chose to put 5 in Strength and Constitution again like a barbarian.  It’s like all he cared about was his looks and perceived masculinity, even in game.

Strength (physical strength): 5

Constitution (physical build and stamina): 5

Dexterity (agility and flexibility): 2

Intelligence (knowledge): 0

Wisdom (intuition and discipline): 0

Courage (risk-taking and bravery): 3

Charisma (social skills): 3

Luck (good or bad fortune): 2

After looking through his stats, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t really want to go around pretending I was Cody the whole game.  I quit out of his save and went back to the title screen.  I was back on the save select screen when I became confused.  There was still one save, except the name of the character wasn’t Cody…it was mine?  The play time was set to 0 minutes.  I don’t know how that happened, but if it saves me the trouble of building a character and reading more tutorials, I’m happy.

To my relief, the avatar representing Cody wasn’t there.  Instead, a very generic, average character stood in its place in the same room.  I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some placeholder account with everything set to the default.  Whatever, I can probably change stuff about him later.  I decided to move my AlterEgo outside and I was greeted by a map of a large city.  I chose an area of the map to explore at random and controlled my new avatar.  On the busy city street, there was a cafe, restaurant, and a gym.  It was too early for the cafe and restaurant to open, so I guess my only option here is the gym.  I’ve never stepped foot in a gym before, but this character doesn’t have to represent me as a whole.  Plus, I’d like my character to be well-rounded unlike Cody’s who would probably spend the whole time grinding here.

I went into the gym and had to perform a set of quick-time events.  First, I had to do some bench presses.  Then some squats.  Then finally, run on a treadmill.  At the end of it, my AlterEgo did a cartoony celebration and flexed his arms.  A pop-up showing that my Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity went up by 1, followed up by another one saying that my Strength and Constitution will double every time I do activities like go to the gym.  So it looks like Cody’s modifiers carried over after all despite everything seeming to be the default.  That should’ve been the first thing I checked.  I didn’t want my character to be specced to be some lumbering brute.  I suppose that if I wanted to get my character’s Intelligence and Wisdom, it’d probably be like playing on Hard mode.  Honestly, I was open to the challenge.

I was disappointed to find out that it’d be harder than it seemed.  When my character got home in the evening, I went into one of his boxes and I was presented with an option to read.  I was presented with several options, ranging from comics to full-on novels.  I chose the novel since I figured it would raise my Intelligence the best.  I watched my AlterEgo try to read the book, but I saw a look of confusion on his face.  Eventually, he grew frustrated and threw the book back into the empty box as if he were shooting through a basketball hoop.  I expected my Intelligence to stay the same, but no, it actually dropped!

“Sometimes when your AlterEgo fails to complete an activity, their stats can decrease!  These stats can even go into the negative.  Make sure to keep your stats high because it can become very difficult to increase your stats if they fall below a certain point.”

I couldn’t believe that my character struggled to even read.  This guy was nothing like me at all!  I hoped that it would be easier to raise my AlterEgo’s Intelligence because I didn’t want him to be a moron.  I watched my character fall asleep and I could see into his dream.  Another tutorial popped up.

“Sometimes your character will have dreams!  These dreams are mostly random, but will also depend on your character’s stats.  Just like other activities, you have a chance to increase your stats.”

I watched my character fight in a zombie apocalypse, but the zombies didn’t even look remotely threatening.  I succeeded in the activity and my Courage went up by 2 and my Luck and Strength went up by 1.  My character wiped his head of sweat as the zombies turned to dust.

The next day, I learned that my AlterEgo can go to school.  That was expected, considering my character’s age, only I didn’t realize how hard it would be for him.  He was sitting in a desk trying to write down notes.  Eventually, like an idiot, he slammed his thick head on his desk and started snoring.  This was honestly getting embarrassing.  My Intelligence and Wisdom dropped yet again, not by 1, but by 2.  If I didn’t do something different, my AlterEgo would basically be a clone of Cody instead of myself.  After class, instead of being given an option to go and do something, my AlterEgo is approached by a group of buff men.

Quarterback: Hey new guy, you’re looking pretty strong.  Judging from your Strength and Constitution, I think you’d make a good fit for the football team.  Your Dexterity and Courage also seem pretty good.  Wanna join, bro?

You know who else played football?  Cody.  I had to keep being reminded of him even when he wasn’t even around.  This was my character and I didn’t care about sports, so I clicked the no option.  To my surprise, my AlterEgo nodded instead.  It's like this game is going out of its way to spite me at this point.  Two tutorials popped up.

“If your Wisdom is too low, your AlterEgo might act on their own desires rather than your command.  This means that they can sometimes act on their own or select activities that they are more interested in rather than those they are not.  Raise your Wisdom or else you will have less freedom when developing your AlterEgo.”

“You have decided to join a club or organization.  This will grant you a passive growth to certain stats every week.”

I watched as my AlterEgo walked away with the group of jocks.  A football uniform magically appeared over his normal clothes.  For joining the football team, I was granted a point in Strength, Constitution, Courage, and Charisma every week, with the usual double for Strength and Constitution.

I kept playing the game, getting frustrated at my AlterEgo’s reluctance to even try to act smart or reasonable.  He frequently avoided or skipped intellectual pursuits to focus on those that made him look or feel good.  It honestly just felt random whether he wanted to obey me or not.  By the end of Day 7, the first week my stats were looking like this.

Strength: 30

Constitution: 28

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: -20

Wisdom: -15

Courage: 21

Charisma: 17

Luck: 16

My Intelligence and Wisdom seemed unfixable.  My AlterEgo wouldn’t even bother to try to read or pay attention at school and he consistently started to make random choices that satisfied his needs as the week progressed.  I grew incredibly frustrated at this, but out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was an end to this so I could go back and make my own character.  Either way, this game was plagued with questionable design choices.  It’s like the AlterEgo was already locked into a specific path.  I hoped that I had accidentally skipped a tutorial or something and that I hadn’t softlocked myself out of raising certain stats.  Unfortunately, my AlterEgo’s stats continued to grow and drop as I hit Day 30.

Strength: 75

Constitution: 69

Dexterity: 44

Intelligence: -66

Wisdom: -49

Courage: 54

Charisma: 37

Luck: 41

I received another tutorial message on Day 31.

“You look like you are on track to evolve into your archetype very soon!  By this point, your AlterEgo’s stats will be locked in place.  That will be the end of the main story, but there is still so much to enjoy afterwards!”

I figured I might as well see this through to the end.  You know, see how much of an idiot my character can become.  Despite my efforts, all my AlterEgo does now is work out, practice and go to games, and go to parties, outside of necessities.  His Intelligence is so low that he rarely even goes to school anymore and that has caused his intelligence to plummet to the bottom.  I played for even longer, eventually hitting Day 60.  Turns out that this is the day I would discover my AlterEgo’s archetype.

“Congratulations on making it this far.  I hope you are excited to find out your archetype, because I know I am!  Remember that these changes are permanent, so there will no longer be ways to increase or decrease your stats.”

I watched my AlterEgo marched onto the stage and I was able to view my final stats and a rating of each of them.  The descriptions seemed to be heavily based on my other stats, and trust me, they were very satirical, and in my case, very scathing.

Strength: 100

I’d give this an A+.  I’m not even sure if you are human anymore.  I’ve seen you lift things that no normal man could, not because you have to, but because you want to.  You spend more time at the gym than you do at your own house and you might give The Hulk a run for his money.

Constitution: 100

You also get an A+.  Your months of training at the gym have given you a perfect, chiseled body that looks like it could be made out of iron.  You have a seemingly endless supply of testosterone and your stamina (in more ways than one, it seems) cannot be beaten.

Dexterity: 75

This gets a B.  You are very athletic and quick on your feet despite your appearance.  However, your large size means that you can be pretty clumsy and you’ve probably broken more things than you’d like to admit.

Intelligence: -100

I’ll just go along with your teachers and give you a big fat F.  Are you even trying?  I worry that there’s not a single thought going around in your thick skull.  You care very little for anything intellectual or sophisticated, not that you even know what those words mean.

Wisdom: -90

Likewise, you also get another big fat F.  Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby or did you take too many tackles to your cranium?  You have incredibly poor judgment and you only make decisions that satisfy your brutish desires.  In short, you often act before you think.  Your lack of discipline is only matched by your lack of brain cells.  As long as you’re having fun, should I really care what you do with your life?

Courage: 90

I’d give this an A, but not an A+.  Because your brain moves too slow to process any risk, you often think before you act.  You often find yourself in the most dangerous of situations and you often perform incredibly stupid stunts.  When you’re on the field, you’re a risk taker, and at least it usually pays off.  On the bright side, you always come out unscathed, so I can commend that.

Charisma: 70

I’d give this a B-.  Being on the football team and being very attractive is going to place a lot of eyes on you, but they are all focused on your body because everything else you have to offer is very superficial.  I wonder if you surround yourself with people who think and act the same as you do or if people keep you around to laugh at every stupid word that comes out of your mouth.

Luck: 80

Lastly, you get a B.  Your luck genuinely amazes me sometimes.  Despite everything, despite your lack of any intellectual thought or reasoning, you have survived long enough to make it this far in life.  This alone proves that life favors some over others.  If there is room for the concept of a higher power in your shrunken headspace, then they probably feel a sense of amusement at the state of you bumbling around through life with only your good looks and muscles salvaging you.

“What do you think?  Are you happy with your results?  Anyhow, it’s time to reveal your archetype.  It’s who you are and who you will be from now on!  Drumroll please…  (As if it wasn’t obvious enough…)  You, my friend, are…THE JOCK!”

The Jock

You are likely an athlete or bodybuilder and you likely care little for intellectual thought.  You enjoy playing and watching sports and working out above anything else.  You are hyper-masculine, aggressive, arrogant, and egotistical.  However, you are also very muscular, tall, athletic, popular, and handsome.  You feel a deep sense of camaraderie with anyone you consider your bro, which mostly includes other jocks like yourself.  Your wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops, jerseys, varsity jackets, shorts, sweatpants, jockstraps, baseball caps, sneakers, and everything in between.  Because of your high testosterone and your above average genitals, you are viewed as a desirable partner and often partake in sexual activities with members of the opposite sex, and sometimes even other men depending on the person and situation.  Your most likely career path is as an athlete or coach, but as long as it doesn’t require too much deep thinking, you could probably find a job anywhere with your connections and attractiveness.  Enjoy your new self!

I watched my AlterEgo vanish within a cloud of smoke and come out a cartoonish representation of your average stereotypical jock with blonde hair and a very lunkish, yet admittedly impressive build.  He looked around, clearly disoriented, with a dull, confused look on his face before flexing with a cheesy, confident smirk on his face.  The audience cheered and clapped at this ridiculous personification of a walking stereotype as if they were watching a magic show.  Honestly, it was almost amusing how the description it gave for “me” couldn’t possibly be more wrong.  It sounded like everything Cody was, not me.  Although I guess I was playing with his settings, not by choice I will add, but I had little control over how my AlterEgo decided to live its life.  I just wish I could get him off my mind for just one day.  Either way, I found myself incredibly dissatisfied with my new AlterEgo, but I accidentally found out a way to make things even worse for me.  I just wanted to scroll through the remaining text to get to the credits, since I have been playing for 8 hours by now, when I saw a selection that would seal my fate.

“Are you satisfied with your result?  Now that you’ve discovered who you truly are, are you ready to be The Jock in the real world?  WARNING: If you select Yes, your save will be deleted as a result.  These changes are permanent.  If you click No, you can continue playing after the credits.”

I accidentally clicked Yes as I was mashing through the text.  What the hell was I thinking?!  I had no idea that this would change the entire trajectory of my life.  At first I felt nothing, as the screen faded to black.  Then, I saw the credits start to roll, playing a remix of the joyful title screen music, and that’s when I started to feel all warm inside and I felt a painful shock come from my controller.

I felt a sudden wave of pain rush through my body as my bones started to crack and shift in my body and my muscles began to inflate like balloons.  I looked at the credits and noticed that the new jock AlterEgo was doing the things he normally enjoyed doing in the background.  But I couldn’t really concentrate on it as I found myself focusing down below.  My legs stretched and stretched until I was around 6’4.  My feet grew to a size 15 and my thick glutes and ass made me sink deeper into the couch from their weight.  The fat in my stomach felt like it was melting as it left behind nothing more than a layer of sweat and a firm six pack of abs.  My upper chest formed into a round set of bouncy pecs.  Likewise, my biceps and triceps were almost the size of my head now and my soft hands became rough and covered in calluses from intense lifting.  I felt my clothes cling tightly to my body as if they were two sizes too small, and they’d easily rip if my body grew any more.  My shirt fit more like a crop top on me and my clothes were damp from pit and ass sweat.

I felt my long hair recede into my head until it formed into a shorter cut that was much easier to maintain.  As it did that, my chestnut-colored locks lightened into a golden blonde.  My soft, round eyes became more sharp and masculine and I could feel them turn from a chocolate brown into an icy shade of blue.  My youthful face lost most of its baby fat and buried beneath it was nothing more than the chiseled edges of my jawline.  The lower half of my face, which used to be soft and hairless, was now covered in a prickly lawn of stubble.  Even my pasty skin turned a shade tanner from the years I spent in the sun throwing balls around.  I noticed that my entire body started to sweat profusely to the point that I could smell my own musk and I became absorbed by my new-found masculine scent.  I could smell the testosterone that was pumping through my veins like a drug.  I felt powerful, dominant, virile, and dare I say it, good…  Lastly, I found my lips contort into an obnoxious, conceited smirk.  Was I…enjoying this?  Judging from the growing feeling in my groin, I was led to believe that I was.  And it kept growing and growing and growing…

All the while, the credits continued to play and the happy-go-lucky music felt like it was mocking my painful situation.  Despite the strange pleasure I felt, it was only a distraction as my body still writhed in pain through the whole process while I changed entirely into a real life manifestation of my AlterEgo.  What the hell is this game?  I noticed that the jock avatar stared directly towards the screen, as if he was breaking the fourth wall, and started to walk closer and closer before vanishing from his virtual prison for good.  The lively credits started to simmer down, giving the screen a more empty and disquieting feeling.  That was the last thing I noticed before I felt a sharp headache ring through my head.  I am usually fine playing games for a long period of time so why…Why did my roommate buy me this game anyways, bro?  If he was gonna buy me any game, he should’ve gotten me the new CoD or Madden game, not this weird shit.  I had to admit, it was kinda addicting.  I liked being able to work out or play sports even when I’m at home.  Wait, what was that?  I felt like I just heard another voice in my head, both sounding similar yet different to my own.  Eventually he called out directly to me.

“Hey bro, it’s me.  Your AlterEgo.  You know, the real you.  It’s been fun, dude.  Now I get to enter the real world, isn’t that sick?  So here’s what’s gonna happen, dude.  I am currently inside your mind and I’m making the final changes to turn you into the person you were always meant to be.  That’s right dude, we are becoming one singular person in both body and mind.  Don’t try to struggle or fight back.  You know I’m stronger than you.  There’s no going back.  So, are you ready to become one with your true self?

No…I thought to myself.  I wasn’t a jock.  I was never a jock.  I’m nothing like my AlterEgo.  This is a mistake.  This was Cody’s AlterEgo, not mine!

“Chill out, bro.  I know you read the warning and you clicked Yes, so you obviously knew the risk.  Why did you keep playing if you knew you’d become a jock regardless of the decisions you made?  Because you are one deep down.  Or maybe you secretly wanted to be one.  Maybe you wanted to see what life was like on the other side.  Maybe this Cody guy wanted you to try out this save, you know, to see what would happen...  Whatever reasoning, it really doesn’t matter dude.  I know you can feel me taking over your mind.  You’re finding it harder to think.  Soon you’ll be The Jock, me.  I just wish you realized a little sooner who you really were…”

I felt my brain starting to shut off and my vision starting to become blurry as my AlterEgo took it over.  I don’t even know how any of this is possible, even by today’s standards.  An AI buried deep within the game was taking over my body and mind entirely, reshaping me in his image.  But I continued to resist, to cling onto whatever parts of my personality I could.  However, as I felt my mind sink deeper and deeper into this mental void, I felt myself slowly becoming more and more like The Jock.  The archetype that was decided on, not by me, but for me.  Until that’s all I was.

Everything turned black for a few seconds.  I slowly regained consciousness as my brain rebooted itself.  Wait…what’s a reboot?  I sat and watched the credits with a dim look on my face as it finally ended.  I was booted back to the title screen and saw that my save was indeed deleted.  This was proof that my AlterEgo was now a part of me and that he was finally whole.  I pulled out my phone wanting to learn more about this game, because, dude, it was kinda fucking weird. By scrolling, I couldn’t find much, but I did discover a post from not too long ago on some ancient forum site that was probably made in the early 2000s.

“Is The Game AlterEgo Real?”

“I’ve heard rumors about this game called AlterEgo, but I have very little information on it.  It’s said to be incredibly dangerous and could lead to permanent bodily and mental changes.  Throughout all of my research, I could not find any copy of the game for sale, nor any definitive proof that it’s real or any information on the company that developed it.  If you have any information on this game, please let me know.”

I skimmed through the forum page, not that interested in reading what everyone had to say.  Who has time for that anyways?  But I did find one reply that caught my eye.

“I can confirm with certainty that AlterEgo does exist.  My friend received it as a gift for Christmas and he wouldn’t stop talking about it to me.  It’s like he was addicted.  A week later, when I saw him next, I could barely even recognize him.  His body had grown and changed greatly and he didn’t act like his usual self.  I even feel like his memories might be a little distorted.  I tried checking his house to find the game in order to figure out what it was all about, but I don’t think he has it anymore.  He probably sold it or gave it away since he said he finished it.  No matter what, he won’t tell me.  If there are any other copies of the game left, please let me know.”

Woah, so this game is fucking weird, dude.  Wasn’t just me.  I just played it right?  But I don’t feel any different.  You know, I bet these nerds would pay a lot for a chance to find out about this game.  Maybe they might come out as different people.  I’ll put it up on eBay for a high price.  One of those dweebs just has to take the bait.  I wouldn’t mind a little cash though.  I’d feel bad for selling Cody’s gift, but just imagine what I could get with that much money.

“Hey bro, you still in here dude?”  I heard a familiar voice shout as they opened the door.

“Yo Cody, there you are.  What’s up dude?”  I was happy to see him.  Cody was my roommate and my best friend.  We were practically inseparable.  When he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened.  I couldn’t really blame him for being impressed with my awesome body.

“You beat that game I gave you already?”  He seemed surprised, yet almost impressed.

“Yeah, it’s not usually my type, but I enjoyed it dude.”

“Do you…feel any different, bro?”  Cody sounded kinda hesitant there.  Had he read about the rumors too?  I don’t see why he’d have to worry.  None of those rumors are true anyways.

“Nah, same as I’ve always been.”

“Alright, good.  I was just making sure you were down to get some food.  You should be out partying and celebrating your birthday, not playing some nerdy video game.  And trust me, I know all the good spots.”

“You’re right bro.  I haven’t gotten enough exercise in today.  Let’s go.”

“Wait, before you go, your clothes are so sweaty dude.  You should change.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

“Y-you can just wear one of my clothes.  They’d probably fit you better.”  He was right.  As I soon realized, someone shrunk all my clothes as part of a prank.

Me and Cody went to a sports bar to watch the game.  If I remember correctly, this was our favorite spot to get food, except you know, anywhere that lets me hit my macros.  Since it was my birthday, he even paid for the whole meal.  I don’t remember how long I’ve known him, but couldn’t ask for a better bro.  On the way home, Cody grabbed a six pack of beer from the frat house and brought it to our dorm to drink the night away.  I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it’s not like I never had alcohol before.  And besides, today was basically my cheat day.

We got wasted while we watched TV, and we did some things that I probably wouldn’t admit to anyone but him.  I couldn’t help it though.  I hadn’t gotten laid all weekend and it was my birthday.  Quite frankly, I deserved it.  Thankfully Cody took one for the team.  He said it wasn’t weird because we’ve definitely done it before and that it was our secret.  I had to give him credit.  His tight hole is better than most girls’.  I didn’t know he was a bottom until tonight.  I also didn’t remember having a dick this big, but you don’t see me complaining.  After all was said and done, I passed out drunk next to him in his bed, our bodies drenched in sweat and each other’s fluids, as I enjoyed the bromance I have with my best bro.  This was the best birthday ever.

The next day, I got up extra early to go for a run despite my hangover.  Afterwards I went to school, but like usual, I struggled to pay attention.  It was like my mind was in a constant fog.  My grades are slipping and this football scholarship is the only thing keeping me from dropping out entirely.  After classes, I joined Cody and the others at practice.  Throughout the day, I kept getting this feeling of uh…dayjah voo?  That word that means that you feel like you’ve done something before.  I wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from.  I shrugged it off.  I was just a jock and I didn’t need to worry about stuff like that.

When I got home, I got an offer for the game Cody gave me.  You know, AlterEgo.  Some nerd seriously offered $1000 for it.  I didn’t actually know it was that rare.  I hope he enjoys it more than I did.  I’ll sure enjoy the 1000 dollars.  I bet he’ll love passing it around to all his other geeky friends.  I wonder what their AlterEgos might look like…

[kotoku]

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - sunday x injured! reader / aventurine x injured! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ angst but with comfort/ fluff in the end

warnings - a bit of angst (?), maybe like two sprinkles..

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

Sunday had been filing through his paperwork, eyes skimming over the contents before tucking it into its rightful folder. The ticking of a clock was the only sound that filled the room, besides the noise of papers being shuffled. It was then his mind had begun to wonder, filtering out the ambiance and recalling the last conversation the two of you had shared before leaving for work. 

“It seems that something urgent has come up at work. I’ll be leaving now, Sunday.” You quickly put on your footwear that you normally use for work, making sure that it isn't loose. Sunday stood near the front door and offered you your bag that held your belongings when you got up.

“Alright, stay safe, my dear.” 

And with a quick peck on the lips, you had set off to work, leaving Sunday in the doorway feeling a little lonely. 

With a shake of his head and the shutting of the door, Sunday had made his way to the bedroom to start his own routine.

There was no need for him to feel lonely. As you would be back in his arms later that day. 

He wouldn’t have had to wait that long, as he was notified of your disappearance by your boss. 

Sunday had dropped whatever paperwork he was doing, the papers that were once neatly organized scattered across his desk. When he had got the call from your superior, knots of dread had weaved itself in his stomach and it made him want to puke. 

He left his office in a hurry, not bothering to close the door fully as he sprinted to the place your superior had sent you to. Your superior had said that you had an assignment within the real dreamscape, something about the memetic entities within it that were disrupting the environment. The group that was sent to the area had lost you somewhere deep within it before they were attacked by those monsters. 

The thought of you being by yourself while facing those things made a shiver run up his spine. He knew how capable you were but he didn’t want to risk losing another person again. 

Not after what happened to his sister.

When Sunday got to the real dreamscape, he had met with the group you were sent with before leaving on his own to find you. He tore the entire place apart, searching for any traces of where you could have gone before stumbling upon a trail of freshly spilled blood. Your blood. 

Sunday cursed under his breath, following the trail that led him through door after door. It was then the trail stopped, your beaten up form sitting up against the wall, a pool of blood beneath you from the blood that you were losing. You were on the verge of unconsciousness.

For a moment he felt his heart stop, hands clenching in anger and fear at what had done this to you. But despite the urge to eliminate whoever was responsible, he needed to focus and bring you somewhere safe. 

You hadn’t registered the footsteps that were quickly approaching you, the gentleness of the person who was carrying you and the soft fluttering of wings against your face, nor the warm grip on your hand while you got transported to the infirmary. It was then when you could barely make out a couple of people above you that you were swept away to darkness.

-----

There was a faint noise coming from beside you. It was the sound of the monitors that were hooked up to you, the IV pole sitting nearby with its saline bag half empty. The bright lights that flooded your vision as soon as you woke caused you to wince, slowly shuffling in the medical bed you were set on. 

The pain you felt was almost unbearable. The myriad of bandages on your body and the cast around your leg were proof of where the pain originated. You could barely move around that much with how everything was restricting you, yet you attempted to find a comfortable position. 

However, you felt a lightweight resting on your thigh and a loose grip holding your hand. 

“Sunday..?” You croaked out, peering over at the man who slept peacefully with some of his loose feathers around you. You figured that he must’ve been so stressed that some had popped right off, poor thing. 

Reaching out a hand and carefully swiping away some of his disheveled hair, you saw the bags that had formed under his eyes. How many days has it been? It was clear that he had spent a while there with you, waiting for the moment that you’d awaken, but his tiredness eventually caught up to him. You couldn’t help but shake your head, feeling a little guilty you had caused your lover this much stress. 

Sunday stirring awake snapped you out of your thoughts. He slowly blinked his eyes open and lifted himself away from where he lay as he noticed that you were awake.

“_____..? You’re awake..! Thank Xipe..I almost thought you weren’t going to wake up anytime soon.” Sunday breathed a sigh of relief, the feelings of stress and anxiety that ate away at him disappearing. He carefully cupped your face and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get there in time, My Love…”

“Sunday… You don’t need to apologize for that. I should be apologizing for my recklessness…” You murmured, feeling the warmth radiating from him. You sunk further into his touch, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your cheek. 

“Nonsense, you were only doing your duty.” Sunday firmly stated, nudging you to look him in the eyes. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, not just from the pain but the reassurance that Sunday gave you. You would not have known what to do if either one of you lost the other, so you were eternally grateful that both of you were alive at this moment. 

A brief silence fell between the both of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable but rather comforting, enjoying the presence of each other for a little longer before the nurses would check in on you. 

“If you think about it… You’re kind of like my guardian angel, Sunday.” Sunday chuckled. 

“I guess I am."

-----

You and Aventurine had an..interesting start to your developing friendship that brought you to where you are now. The both of you had first started working at the IPC in the same department so the frequent appearances of the other never really surprised either one of you. There would be times when you’d guys share small talk, but that never really lasted long as you got swept away to another assignment. 

When you had started rising through the ranks, there was an unspoken rivalry that began to form between you and Aventurine. You never really cared or bothered to feed into this ‘rivalry’, but you had to admit that it was pretty funny seeing Aventurine so fired up if something fortunate happened to you. This led to constant teasing and bickering whenever the two of you encountered each other. It got even worse when you got paired to the same assignment as him. Yet he did know when to take things seriously so you both could get the job done. 

It had been a rather uninteresting day of work for Aventurine, bound to his desk and reviewing important documents that had been submitted to him from his subordinates. Eventually, he had concluded everything and placed them into a cabinet for further inspection later. He just wanted to take a quick walk to stretch out his body after being strapped to his chair for the entire day. 

The scenery outside the spaceship was what you’d expect, yet he never grew bored of it. Sometimes he’d stare out into the vast sea of stars and planets, distracted by the idea of just how small he and his problems were. In a way, it distracted him from the stresses of life.

Aventurine had begun to near the area where people would come in, a group of workers that had recently finished an assignment passing him. He noticed some familiar faces amidst the group and started to wonder when you’d be back to see him. 

It had been 2 weeks since you left for your assignment, giving him a long kiss that left him dazed before departing. Aventurine didn’t lie when he said that he’d miss you as he whined about you leaving for 2 weeks, clinging to you when it was the morning of your departure. Yet he whined a little less when you promised to text him whenever you had a moment of free time.

Speaking of which… The last message you sent to him was a while ago, around 2 days in fact. He never heard anything from you since you bid goodnight to him which made him a little worried. But he knew more than anyone that you were a capable and dependable person, so his worries grew a little less. 

…Yet he could feel a small twinge of dread in his stomach whenever he thought about the time span. 

The opening of the doors leading to the docking area brought him out of his thoughts, glancing over to check what ship had come back. To his surprise, it was you..but in crutches and countless bandages as you awkwardly made your way past the door with someone assisting you. 

Aventurine stared for a couple of seconds, registering your beat-up form before rushing over. “_____!”

You had strained your neck to look towards where the voice came from, seeing a distressed Aventurine catch up with you and your coworker.

“Ah.. Aventurine–,” you started, giving him an awkward smile. “--didn’t think I’d see you so soon. How has work been–”

“What happened to you??” Before you could finish your sentence, Aventurine had taken your coworker’s place, assisting you towards the infirmary. You were trying to explain what happened during your mission and brushed off the injuries, as it was never uncommon to come out with a few scratches and bruises… Aventurine disagreed in a heartbeat.  

“Missions can be dangerous so you must take care of yourself.” Aventurine huffed, getting you checked into the infirmary. 

After you were settled into your room with everything taken care of, Aventurine came back in to stay by your side. You could tell he was upset and concerned for your well-being, sighing as he continued to whine and lecture you about safety. 

“You should’ve given me a call, you know I’d be there in a heartbeat–” 

“Aventurine…”

“Who knows what could’ve happened to you if the circumstances were different–” 

“Aventurine.”  

“Whatever happened… Whoever did this to you I’ll–”

“Aventurine!” 

He stopped pacing around the room, head snapping towards you when your voice finally got his attention. You sighed softly, looking down at your hands that had medical equipment attached to them. “I’m okay. Everything is fine–” “How can you say that?” 

Aventurine gave you a frown, crossing his arms as he stood at the foot of your bed. “You came out with multiple injuries, hell you could barely walk. How could you say that everything is fine?” His eyes had narrowed, staring down at the tiled floor that reflected back at him.

You stared at him for a bit, thinking of what you could say to him. After all, he was right, you came out bearing a multitude of injuries that would leave a couple of scars. But..you didn’t want him to be so worried for your sake, you couldn’t bear burdening him. The grip you had on the sheets loosened, your head leaning back onto the pillow. 

“I…” A pause. “..I’m sorry, Aventurine. I didn’t want to cause more stress for you but.. I’ll be fine. I promise.” You firmly spoke, watching him look back at you before coming over to sit beside you.

“No I… You don’t need to apologize.” Aventurine sighed, moving to hold your hand. “I was just..scared. I’m sorry for lashing out on you, _____.” His gloved fingers felt warm against your bare skin, thumb gliding over your knuckles. 

You hummed in response, your hand interlocking with Aventurine’s. “I know, Aven.” He gave your intertwined hands a kiss, pressing his forehead against them.

“Geez… You really don’t know how worried I was when I didn’t hear anything from you for two days.” Aventurine whined, head moving to rest on your stomach. You stroked his hair, fingers gliding through his golden strands as he sighed in bliss. 

“...I missed you.” He mumbled, peering up at you like a kid through his lovely eyes. You smiled softly at him. 

“I missed you too, Aven.”

“You won’t believe how work has been without you, though…” “Really? I’m all ears.”

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - sorry for the sudden disappearance everyone! 😀 i hope that you guys haven't missed me too much but i'll promise to post stuff soon! thank you guys for your patience and i hope you guys have a safe and wonderful break/week!

[futfemfantasies]

Red cards to red hearts ~ Steph Catley x Dutch!reader

There was a request for this but I can't find it so I hope whoever requested this loves it!!

---------------------------------------

When the January window opened, it took less than 72 hours for the news to explode across every football headline in Europe.

“Arsenal Breaks Transfer Record for Dutch Star Y/N Y/LN”

You were used to making noise — your style of play, sharp tongue, and relentless work ethic had always put you under the spotlight. But nothing quite matched the storm you walked into when you stepped into Arsenal’s training ground for the first time.

It wasn't just the cameras or the price tag.

It was her.

Steph Catley stood near the touchline, arms crossed, lips pressed into a tight line.

She didn’t smile.

Didn’t nod.

Just watched you with the kind of scrutiny that peeled layers off your confidence.

You gave her a cold smirk. “Miss me?”

“Hardly,” she replied, her Aussie accent as crisp as the January air.

The tension was immediate. In the locker room, your locker was two down from hers. In training, you found yourselves side by side more often than not. And when Reneé paired you up for drills, the eye rolls were theatrical.

“Again?” you muttered one morning, ball under your foot.

She shrugged. “If we can’t get chemistry, maybe we can get combustion.”

The team had started betting on who would snap first. You argued over passes. You shouted during 5v5s. One time, you almost came to blows over a mistimed overlap. Lia had to step between you. Caitlin started bringing popcorn to watch.

But something strange started happening.

You noticed how Steph stayed after training, perfecting crosses when everyone else had gone home. How she’d quietly pull the younger players aside to give them pointers.

And maybe she noticed you too — how you drove yourself until your legs gave out, how you studied film late into the night, how you covered her when she overcommitted in a match without saying a word.

--------------------------------

One rainy Thursday, you finally clicked.

You were paired in a full-pitch scrimmage. She overlapped, and without thinking, you curved the ball perfectly into her stride. She didn’t look — she just knew it would be there. A low cross. Goal. Clean. Clinical. Magic.

Everyone paused.

“About bloody time,” Leah mumbled.

You glanced at Steph. She was breathing hard, rain streaking her face, but there was a flicker of something different in her eyes.

Respect. Maybe even… curiosity.

Later that day, in the physio room, she sat on the table beside yours, sipping from her bottle.

“You played well today,” she said, almost casually.

You arched a brow. “You saying that to be nice, or because it’s true?”

She smirked. “Both.”

You held her gaze a beat longer than necessary. “You’re not so bad yourself, Catley.”

That was the start.

The bickering didn’t stop. But it changed. Teammates stopped groaning when you got paired together. You started syncing.

And somewhere between stolen glances in the locker room, a shared laugh after a win, and a quiet moment in the tunnel before a big match — the line between rivalry and something else began to blur.

It started with a harmless mistake.

--------------------------------

The team had a community outreach event — a local coaching clinic for girls aged 10–14. A chance to give back, sign shirts, run a few drills, and pose for photos. Light work after a heavy week of matches.

You were supposed to be paired with Lotte.

Steph was supposed to be with Viv.

But a last-minute reshuffle — someone missed a flight, someone else had the flu — and somehow, you and Steph ended up assigned to the same group.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, clutching the clipboard when the coordinator told you.

Steph laughed under her breath. “What, afraid I’ll show you up in front of a bunch of kids?”

You shot her a look. “Please. I’ve got better jokes.”

“Doubt it.”

The drills started fine. You were both professionals, after all. But the dynamic quickly turned chaotic — you’d set up a passing relay, Steph had already started a mini scrimmage. You were explaining shooting form, she was off letting the girls take penalty kicks. It was messy.

Until one of the girls tugged at your sleeve.

“Why do you two hate each other?”

You blinked.

“We don’t—” you started.

“We don’t hate each other,” Steph cut in, quickly. “We just… argue a lot.”

“Like a married couple,” another girl giggled.

You and Steph spoke at the same time.

“No—” “Definitely not.”

But the damage was done. The kids whispered and giggled for the rest of the session, clearly entertained. You tried to shake it off, but that lingering question stuck with you.

Why did you bicker so much?

When the clinic ended, the team started packing up, heading back to the vans.

You went to retrieve a bag of cones from the far end of the pitch, and Steph came too, silently walking beside you. The clouds had darkened, and rain started to spit from the sky.

“Look,” she said suddenly, “about earlier—what the girl said.”

You raised a brow, half-amused. “Which part? The hating each other, or the being married part?”

Steph huffed a soft laugh. “Both.”

You paused near the edge of the small equipment shed, wiping rain from your face. “It’s not hate,” you said quietly. “Not really. You just… get under my skin.”

Her eyes met yours. There was no smirk this time. “Yeah. Same.”

Then the sky opened up, full-on rain now, and you both bolted into the nearby shed for cover. You pulled the door shut behind you, the tiny space barely enough for one of you to stand comfortably, let alone two.

The sound of the storm roared outside. You were close, her arm brushing yours, breath warm in the chilly air.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, glaring at the rain.

“You’re the one who forgot a jacket.”

“You could’ve reminded me.”

Steph turned her head to look at you, her expression softening. “You always act like you don’t need help.”

You swallowed. “And you always act like you’ve got everything figured out.”

Silence. Then Steph’s voice, quieter now.

“You ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d started on the same team? From the beginning?”

You turned your head toward her. “I think… we would’ve still fought.”

She smiled. “Probably.”

“But maybe,” you added, “we wouldn’t have waited this long to figure each other out.”

She didn’t say anything. Just looked at you like she was seeing you — not the rival, not the challenge. You.

And you realized you weren’t trying to win anymore.

You just wanted more time.

-------------------------------------

The rain had cleared by morning, leaving the pitch slick and glistening under a watery sun. Training resumed as usual — rondos, pressing drills, short-sided games. But something was… different.

Not in the drills.

Not in the tactics.

In you.

And in Steph.

You passed to her more — not just out of necessity, but intentionally. Smooth, easy touches. She called for the ball with confidence, and you gave it without the snide comments, without hesitation.

You even smiled at each other.

It didn’t take long for the team to pick up on it.

Caitlin nudged Lia mid-drill. “Did Y/N just laugh at something Steph said?”

Lia squinted across the pitch. “I think so. And Steph didn’t even roll her eyes.”

Katie slid over during water break, smirking. “Alright, what’s going on here? You two fall into a love spell or just finally sick of fighting?”

Steph scoffed, uncapping her bottle. “Nothing’s going on.”

You arched a brow. “Can’t two professionals just… grow?”

“Grow?” Beth echoed, strolling over with arms crossed. “Babe, last week you nearly murdered her over a missed backpass.”

“Yeah,” Caitlin added. “And now you're practically finishing each other's sentences.”

Lotte chimed in, sipping from her bottle. “They didn’t even argue during the whole mini match. That’s either progress or witchcraft.”

Kim, ever the captain, wandered over with a knowing grin. “Let me guess. Got locked in a shed during a rainstorm, had a heart-to-heart, now you’re bonded for life?”

You froze.

Steph’s bottle paused halfway to her lips.

“How do you—” you began.

The entire group erupted.

“NO WAY.” “You did?” “Actual rom-com behaviour.” “I knew it!”

Steph turned pink. You stared at the grass, trying not to laugh.

Reneé blew her whistle to call everyone back in, and as the players jogged off, Katie leaned closer and muttered with a grin:

“Just so you know — we’ve already started a betting pool on when one of you finally cracks and kisses the other.”

You rolled your eyes. “You lot need better hobbies.”

Steph didn’t say anything. But as you jogged side by side back to the starting cones, your arms brushed — just slightly — and neither of you pulled away.

That electricity wasn’t sharp anymore.

It was warm. Dangerous.

Comfortable.

And every single person on that pitch felt it.

--------------------------------

It was late.

Most of the team had filtered out of the training ground hours ago, but you stayed behind. Again.

Your boots were off, socks bunched under your ankles, and you sat on the cold grass just outside the pitch, legs stretched in front of you, head tilted toward the sky. The floodlights were still on but it made the place feel like it existed outside of time.

You heard footsteps behind you.

Didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

Steph.

“Thought I’d find you here,” she said, padding softly across the grass.

You smiled without turning. “You’re getting predictable.”

She sat beside you without asking, knees bent, arms resting on top of them. The silence settled between you, but it wasn’t awkward. It hadn’t been for a while now.

You glanced sideways at her. She looked tired. But there was something behind her eyes — not exhaustion. Something sharper. Restless.

She chewed her lip.

You nudged her with your knee. “Out with it.”

Steph looked at you, really looked at you, and then blew out a slow breath.

“I was gonna wait,” she said.

“For what?”

“For it to go away.”

Your brow furrowed. “What to go away?”

She turned toward you, knees shifting so you were nearly facing each other now. Her voice dropped — quiet, but firm.

“This. You. How I feel.”

You froze. Not because you didn’t know — you’d felt the shift, the gravity of it, the way her gaze lingered and her voice softened when she said your name — but hearing it out loud made your chest feel tight.

Steph didn’t stop.

“I thought it was just rivalry. Competition. But it’s not. And I’m tired of pretending it’s not there. Every time we argue, every time we laugh, every time you cover me in a match or look at me like you’re trying to figure out what I’m thinking — I feel it.”

You stared at her.

She exhaled again. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

There was a beat of silence. And then:

“I want to be with you.”

It was the softest thing she’d ever said to you. No edge. No challenge. Just truth.

Your heartbeat roared in your ears.

And then, quietly, you said:

“I thought I was imagining it.”

Steph’s lips curled, just a little. “You weren’t.”

You shifted closer, your leg pressing lightly against hers. You could feel your pulse in your fingertips. “So what now?”

Steph tilted her head. “Well, I could kiss you.”

You smirked. “Could you now?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling now. “I think I could.”

And when she leaned in, it wasn’t frantic or dramatic — it was steady, sure. Like the first pass of a match you’d both been preparing for without even knowing it.

Your lips met hers, and everything else — the pitch, the lights, the world — faded out.

When she finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, you whispered, “This is going to make training so weird tomorrow.”

Steph grinned. “Worth it.”

------------------------------

It started with small things.

You and Steph suddenly stopped arguing during drills. No snarky comments, no eye-rolls, not even a single dramatic sigh when paired up for rondos. Instead, it was light touches on the arm, shared glances, and the occasional private smirk that made everyone suspicious.

During a gym session, you were spotting her on bench press and whispered something that made her laugh mid-rep. The kind of laugh that wasn’t for teammates. It was softer.

Lia caught it from across the room, locked eyes with Caitlin, and mouthed: “It’s happening.”

The team didn’t say anything at first — just watched.

Took notes like scientists watching an increasingly obvious nature documentary.

The real crack came two weeks later, after a tight 2–1 win against Chelsea at the Emirates. Everyone was buzzing, high on adrenaline and celebration.

You’d assisted Steph’s game-winning goal and when the final whistle blew, you sprinted straight to her. She turned just in time for you to grab her by the waist, spinning her in a circle.

The crowd roared. The cameras caught it. And Steph?

Steph beamed at you like you’d handed her the entire WSL trophy.

You set her down, tried to walk it off, pretend it was just a normal post-goal celebration. But the damage was done.

--------------------------

Back in the locker room, the team was buzzing.

You were toweling off when Katie strolled over, arms folded, a slow grin on her face.

“So. Just checking,” she said loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Are we finally allowed to talk about the fact that you two are secretly dating and doing a terrible job of hiding it?”

You froze mid-motion. Steph, tying her boots nearby, paused and looked at you.

Beth leaned around her locker. “Seriously. You two are so obvious it hurts.”

Caitlin nodded. “Steph has ‘girlfriend smile’ now. It’s a thing.”

“I knew it,” Viv added, pulling out her phone. “We need to check the betting pool. I think I had this week.”

Leah gave a mock round of applause. “To be fair, you lasted longer than we thought. Barely.”

You groaned, pulling your jersey over your head to hide your face. “We weren’t trying to—”

“Be subtle?” Katie interrupted. “Yeah, no. You failed. Spectacularly.”

Steph just shrugged, entirely too calm. “So what if we’re together?”

Silence.

Then Lotte spoke up from the bench. “Honestly? We’re just relieved you stopped threatening to kill each other during passing drills.”

Everyone laughed — even you.

You reached for Steph’s hand under the bench and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed back.

And even though your secret was officially not a secret anymore, somehow… it felt better this way.

No more pretending. No more holding back.

Just you and Steph — finally on the same side.

[amaiwrites]

ITS JUST A KISS

Monoma… is broke. That is, until, he starts working part time in Recovery Girl’s office by copying her quirk. It’s all going well until a certain someone shows up with injuries that need to be healed…

inspired by this post! monoma x fem!reader, fluff <3

word count: 1.6k (!!!)

“Kirishima, Y/n— you’re up next.” 

Y/n takes in a deep breath before she steps onto the platform. Today’s class is combat practice, and students were put in pairs assigned by Mr. Aizawa. Y/n’s up against Kirishima— and he’s great! But that’s the problem. He’ll definitely be a tough opponent. 

“Whoever gets the other to step off the platform first— or to surrender, will win.” 

Kirishima gives Y/n a determined grin as he hardens his arm, and Y/n returns the favor as she powers up her own quirk. 

“And… fight!” 

Kirishima throws a punch, Y/n dodges. Y/n kicks Kirishima’s leg. Kirishima gets a hit in on Y/n’s side, then Y/n punches him right in the chest. It goes on like this, each of them landing hits one after the other. Everyone is watching the fight closely, excited to see who will win in the end. Then, a loud noise is heard, causing Y/n to turn her head. 

“I am here!” All Might exclaims, and Y/n gets a tiny bit distracted from her fight because, hello, it’s All Might! 

Wait, focus— fangirl about All Might later! She looks back over to Kirishima, and his hand flies right out to her face. She stumbles backward, and falls onto the green grass next to the platform. Right out of bounds. 

“Kirishima wins this round.” Aizawa says, “Y/n, are you okay?” 

“Yeah…” Y/n didn’t hit her head on the ground or anything, but she puts her hand on her forehead and sees that it has some blood on it. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry Y/n! I didn’t mean to hit your head like that, it wasn’t very manly of me.” Kirishima offers his hand out and helps Y/n stand up. 

“That’s okay,” she smiles, “nothing Recovery Girl can’t fix later. Good fight!” 

The cut on her head wasn’t bad enough to cause great concern, but Aizawa sent Y/n down to Recovery Girl’s office anyways. 

Dang, I really wanted to see Momo go up against Uraraka, Y/n thinks as she knocks on the door to the nurses office. 

“Come on in.” A voice— definitely not Recovery Girl’s voice, says. Y/n cautiously opens the door, only for her eyes to meet—

“Monoma?!” 

“Y/n? How delightful to see you here!” Monoma welcomes her inside, warm smile on his face, but Y/n is still skeptical. 

She crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?” 

“Recovery Girl was kind enough to let me work part time in the nurses office.” Monoma smirks, “The best part about it is that I get to see how many of you 1-A idiots end up in here injured! Not nearly as many Class B students get hurt like—“ 

“Now, now, calm down Monoma. You’re supposed to be helping.” Recovery girl says, and Y/n tries her best not to laugh. “Heal her cut for me, will you dear?” 

Monoma’s smug demeanor seems to fall, his eyes going wide as his head turns to Recovery Girl. “Heal her? But— it’s just a small cut!” 

“Wait, how would he heal me?” Y/n cuts in. 

“Well, as you know, Monoma here can copy quirks,” Recovery girl explains, “I’ve had him copy my quirk so he could heal non-emergency people. This way I can go be right on the scene of classes like yours, where bad injuries are prone to happen.” 

…Interesting. Besides his quirk, Monoma is the least suitable student to be helping out like this. From what Y/n has seen, Monoma only likes to help his classmates, and definitely notClass 1-A. 

“Speaking of, I’m off to find your class now. They’re outside on the platform left of the main building, yes?” 

Y/n nods. “Take good care of our patients, Monoma!” The door closes behind Recovery Girl as she leaves the nurses office.

And now it was just the two of them. 

Monoma sighs. “Sit.” He says, pointing towards one of the doctor’s beds in the room. 

He always has so much attitude, Y/n thinks, but she sits where he told her to anyways. She would leave, but it’s probably not the best idea to leave her cut unattended. 

Stupid Monoma. His ‘I’m-better-than-you’ attitude and that smug smirk that’s always on his face is so… ugh. If he was less of an asshole, he’d be cute. 

Wait, what am I even saying??

Monoma isn’t cute. He’s not. Y/n hasn’t thought that, not even for a second—

“Damn girl, this cut’s worse than I thought.” Y/n almost jumps at the sound of Monoma’s voice next to her. He stands in front of Y/n, placing various medical items down next to her. When he’s done with that, he frowns. “Who did this to you?” 

Y/n studies Monoma’s expression. Usually he’d be teasing her, saying that with his idiotic smirk on his face. Call her crazy, but he almost looks… worried? Weird. 

“Kirishima,” She answers, “it was an accident though! I got distracted and his hand slipped.” 

Monoma grunts in— understanding? Disapproval? Y/n doesn’t know. 

“Idiot.” Monoma mutters, and Y/n’s not sure if he’s talking about her or Kirishima. His hand taps Y/n’s thighs. “Spread out your legs.”

She gives him a suspicious look. “My cut’s on my head, dummy.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” He pushes her legs apart himself, and then he stands between them. “See? Now I can get to your cut easier. Dummy.” 

Monoma takes a wet cloth and starts to clean around the cut and he— well, he smells nice. That might seem like a random thing to say, but he is right up in Y/n’s face right now, which is being flooded with the smell of subtle cologne. He just smells nice. 

Y/n usually keeps her distance from this guy, but he isn’t that bad up close. The Monoma that Y/n sees right now isn’t the obnoxious little shit that’s always talking trash about 1-A, but a concerned… classmate? Friend? 

And, Y/n has to admit to herself, maybe he’s a little cute. Just a little bit. It’s totally the blue eyes— or the hair. Or the voice— Okay, not gonna think about that anymore. 

Monoma puts the cloth down, his eyes meeting Y/n’s. “I’m gonna kiss you.” 

“What?!” Y/n exclaims, her face quickly turning pink. Where the hell did that come from? Monoma just laughs. He gently takes Y/n’s face in his hands and kisses her forehead. 

Wait. Copying Recovery Girl’s quirk… he was just kissing me to heal my cut, that makes sense! Y/n hadn’t realized that until now. 

His quirk must’ve malfunctioned somehow, though, because that kiss didn’t make Y/n feel better. It made her heart start beating really fast, and— is it hot in here? Because Y/n definitely feels hot. 

Oh. 

Monoma’s smirk appears back on his face. “Y/n, are you blushing? Aww! Want me to kiss you again?” 

“Shut up!” Y/n’s eyes go to anywhere in the room, just not on him. Shit, she can’t like Monoma! The guy that, like, all of your friends hate? That hates you? Well, isn’t that just great. 

Monoma’s still standing where he has been, right in Y/n’s space. It’s not helping. She finally decides to look back at him, because he probably should have moved away by now. He really should, before Y/n does something that she’d regret. 

“Oh,” He says simply, taking Y/n’s left hand in his. “You’re bleeding here too.” He wipes the blood off of Y/n’s hand with a cloth, then presses his mouth to her palm. Another kiss, yet there wasn’t even a cut on her hand. That was just blood from her forehead. 

“Um… there’s no cut on my hand.” Y/n points out, and Monoma just nods. 

“Great observation, Y/n,” He teases, “I’m aware of that. I just wanted to see if your face could get any redder.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get me to blush.” She says, despite her now red face. 

“Alright then,” Monoma starts, leaning in just a little bit closer. “guess I’ll have to keep trying then.”

“I…” Before Y/n can stop herself, she glances down at Monoma’s lips. I’m about to do something stupid, aren’t I? “Y-“

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Ochako knocks on the door, startling both Y/n and Monoma. Y/n quickly stands up as she walks into the room. “…Monoma? What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, Ochako! Who won your match?” Y/n asks, partly to take the attention off of her but mostly because she’s curious. 

Ochako grins and puts her hands on her hips. “Me! Momo was quite the tough opponent though, I just barely won…” She shrugs. “Speaking of class, Aizawa sent me to find you. We should hurry back, Deku and Bakugo are up next!”

If you know Izuku and Bakugo, you know that this fight is going to be intense. It’ll definitely be entertaining to watch too, which is why Ochako grabs Y/n’s hand and starts to lead them back to class. 

Y/n tries to look over her shoulder at Monoma, but Ochako closed the door on their way out. 

“Hey, what was Monoma doing in there?” Ochako asks. 

Almost kissing me, Y/n thinks, but she probably shouldn’t say that. “He’s… working for Recovery Girl. Copied her quirk and stuff.”

“Whatt? I never would’ve imagined him as a nurse, he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to help others like that…” 

Y/n nods in agreement. He didn’t seem like her type either, yet here he was making her all flustered. 

Seriously, out of all people, Neito Monoma?

You’re an idiot, Y/n. 

should I make a part 2? 🤭

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

Rookie Reporter (Hawks x f!Reader)

A/N: I've been writing this one for a long time and I finally finished! It's a long one, but I hope you enjoy

Dont forget to like & reblog <3

Warnings: Hawks, yandere Hawks, abusive work place, manipulation, gaslighting

Wordcount: 5.7k

Ask Box: Open

Masterlist | Ko-Fi | VGen | Patreon | Twitter | Archive of Our Own

Reporters were the bane of every hero's existence. They wanted nothing but a good scoop on whatever and whoever they could find. Hardcore hero fanatics called them the scum of the earth; even worse than some villains. Some of your friends were disgusted when they found out you wanted to go to college for journalism. But they just didn't understand. You weren't going to be a reporter. You were going to be a journalist, someone who seeks the truth and only the truth. 

It wasn't easy. You wish that your enthusiasm had gotten you far, but when you graduated, you had trouble finding a job. Now you were working at a small-time news company. You looked down at your camera, shuffling through the blurry pictures you had taken. Your boss decided for you first job he would send you out to tail the number two hero. Why was this given to someone with no experience? Because your boss had faith in you. At least, that's what he said. You were special. You were talented. It's why he hired you. You scrunched your nose as you peeked around the corner. Hawks was surrounded by a group of small kids, feathers surrounding them as he smiled down at them. You put the viewfinder up to your eye and took even more pictures.

As Hawks moved away, you continued to try and follow him inconspicuously. This isn't what you wanted. You didn't want to follow some random hero to see if he would fuck up and make a mistake. Especially if he was the number two and one of the most popular heroes with the public. You had nothing against Hawks and it felt dirty to do this. He was known for being laid back and friendly with everyone. The only "newsworthy" thing about him is his relationship with Endeavor, who is less than friendly. You hid behind another building. This was stupid!! This was totally and completely stupid. You were going to take a few more pictures and then call it a day. As you peeked out the corner again, you saw that your vision was blocked by a torso. 

"Excuse me, you're blocking my- oh shit."

"Oh shit is right." Hawks was staring down at you, his arms crossed. "Why are you following me?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you did what your boss told you to do if you got caught: you turned around and started walking away. If you pretended like you didn't know what he was talking about, he would just leave you alone. That's what you told yourself. Even as you heard his steps behind you as you walked, you acted like you knew nothing. Of course following the #2 hero was not without consequence. He easily overtook you and stopped right in front of you. With a small oof, you ran into his chest. 

He sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I didn't want to make any arrests today. But if you don't wanna tell me-"

"It’s my job.” You said, looking down to your camera then up at him. “This is my first assignment.”

“You’re paparazzi?”

You scrunched your nose. “No! I’m a journalist. As my first job, my boss sent me out to follow you.”

“Kid, that’s what the paparazzi do. They follow heroes to get the latest scoop.”

You crossed your arms. “Excuse me, Mr. Hawks, but I am not like those lowlifes. I want to chase the truth and only the truth. My boss said he had faith in me and my talent. He said I was special.”

“Right. And who do you work for?”

"Heroes Weekly."

He laughed. "I can't tell if you're serious or pulling my wing."

"What?" You cocked your head. "Why would I not be serious? I'm trying to be a good journalist."

He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his blonde hair, the strands falling messily around his face. You've only seen him happy and smiling, even when fighting villains. It was rare to see Hawks looking frustrated. It looked like he didn't believe you. You reached for your lanyard, flashing the employee ID at him.

"See? Rookie journalist."

He leaned in, scanning the text. "That says Rookie Reporter, kid."

"What?" You looked at the badge. There, underneath your employee picture, were the words Rookie Reporter. You frowned. "God damn it. And stop calling me kid! You're only like a year or two older than me!"

"Okay then, birdie. You're being hazed." 

Hazed? It almost made you laugh. There's no way they would do that to you. Your boss was kind. He even gave you your own business cards. Your coworkers always smiled at you, said you were super helpful around the office. They said you were lucky for getting this assignment. Someone as eager as…Who were you kidding? No matter how you looked at it, trailing one of the top ten heroes wasn't meant for a rookie. It was meant for humiliation. 

You hung your head in shame. Frustration and guilt mixed together. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hawks. I was just so eager to become a journalist that I-"

"Hey, hey. Don't be upset. Just don't do that again, alright? Other heroes won't be as lenient as I am." He patted your head, ruffling your hair.

You nodded. "I'll delete all the pictures as well."

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"Don't worry. I'll figure something out."

You turned and walked away. It was so frustrating. You knew they weren't going to be genuine. That's what you were warned about in college. But it was the only company that would even glance your way. You didn't want to give up your dream of being a journalist. You wanted to write an expose of hero worship and media influence. You wanted to show how idolization affects both the people and heroes negatively. You wanted to make a difference. Yet here you were, doing exactly what you always despised. You sighed as you went through your camera, deleting all the pictures. You were so stupid.

"Hey! Wait up!!"

You turned to see Hawks catching up with you. He gave you a lopsided smile. "I don't want you to go back empty handed."

"It's fine, really. It's not like you did anything out of the ordinary anyway."

He held out his hand. "Do you have a business card?"

"Oh!" You let the camera hang around your neck as you rifled through your bag. "My boss said that the first thing I should do is give my business card. How could I forget that? Anyway, here."

"Thanks." He grabbed the business card, looking over it. "I'll give you a call."

"For…"

"You're so cute, birdie. I'm gonna let you interview me. I like your spunk. It would be great for a journalist to have a contact, right? Plus–" He leaned in, looking proud of himself. "I am the number two hero. It can't get better than this."

"Really?" Your eyes widened in surprise. He had caught you tailing him and now he wanted to do an interview? "Wow. Uhm… thank you."

"Don't mention it. I'll call you later, kid."

"Sure."

As he walked off, you got an odd feeling in your stomach. It wasn't necessarily positive. There was something off about the way Hawks looked at you. Like you were a victim or someone who needed saving. Were you that pitiful? You shook your head and pushed down the feeling. It had to be positive. This was good. This was your gateway into being the journalist you always wanted to be. You had to take advantage of this.

°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

You hated your job. You hated it so much, you could quit at any moment. Especially now, as you carefully maneuvered two drink carriers off the counter at the coffee shop you always seemed to be at. Ever since you came back from meeting Hawks, you were treated as an errand girl. It wasn't unusual for you to pick up lunch or drinks every once in a while. But now it was every day. You rarely had time to even set up a meeting with Hawks. You were able to call him once before you were told to do something else that was supposedly important. And it never was.

Freelance was probably a better option. Sure, your paycheck would practically disappear. But it was better than being bullied in the office. You were treated like a doormat. You couldn't fight back or else everyone would start to see you as the cocky newbie who believed they deserved everything handed to them on a silver platter. It was all so frustrating. But in the world today, it was practically impossible to be recognized as a freelance journalist. They were labeled as crazy conspiracy theorists. Which you weren't. To be fair, you did feel like you were about to go crazy. Your phone was ringing as you made your way to the exit of the cafe.

"Damn it." You muttered to yourself as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. You walked over to one of the outside tables and set down the coffee. You got out your phone and answered it. "Hello?"

"You look like death, busy bird."

"What? Who is-" You checked the caller ID and then put the phone back to your ear. "Mr. Hawks!"

"You need some help?"

You frowned. "Uhm…why would you ask that?"

"Because you look like you're about to cry."

Immediately, you were on high alert. You looked around, trying to spot where he was. He was walking across the street, his red wings making him easy to spot. A shiver ran down your spine. You hung up your phone as he walked over to you. Once again, there was that lopsided smile as he approached you. 

"Hi." You sheepishly waved at him, guilt filling you. "Sorry about the whole interview thing. Work is keeping me busy."

Hawks looked over at the two drink carriers. "Is this work?"

"Unfortunately. I'm forced to do coffee runs and I have to pay for it with my card, which doesn't make sense at all! And ever since I told my boss that I could interview you, he suddenly decided that I was too busy with other useless tasks. Changing the printer, making edits, sending email reminders. I'm not a damn secretary!" 

You huffed, running your hands through your hair. You had applied to countless other places, but none of them would take you. You still didn't have enough to survive off freelancing. So here you were, stuck in a shitty job with shitty pay. Not only that, but Hawks was sure to be disappointed that you can't interview him. This was a feeling you'd have to get used to: utter disappointment.

After getting yourself situated, you picked up the two drink carriers and started walking as your mind churned. You forgot about Hawks's presence, too preoccupied with your own angst. You didn't notice him following you, staring at you like you were an amusing spectacle. You mumbled to yourself about what you have to do after you get back to your workplace. Print out copies for your coworkers, clean out the break room, and then try and make a deadline for an article that'll never be published. What a wonderful day.

"Birdie, do you always mumble to yourself?"

"Huh?" You looked over to the side, finally acknowledging Hawks's presence. "Yes. Well… no. Does it make me seem crazy?"

"It's cute."

The tips of your ears turned red. "Sure. Why are you following me?"

"Because I want to do that interview." He shrugged and gave you a smile. "I won't take no for an answer."

"My boss will flip if he sees you."

"It's alright. I'll handle it."

Hawks wasn't like anything you thought him to be. He looked like the cocky playboy that had an endless amount of women for his disposal. Yet here he was, taking the drink carriers from your hand and giving you a lopsided smile. Maybe you were lucky. Like one of those fanfictions where the person reads a book in the crowd and the rich rockstar falls in love. Maybe this was a fanfiction.

"That's ridiculous."

"What?" Hawks asked, looking over at you.

You blushed and shook your head. "Nothing. Are you sure you wanna be doing this? I don't want to trouble you."

"Don't worry, birdie. Just put your trust in me."

Normally, that would be asking a lot. But Hawks was a hero. So maybe it wasn't too much to ask. And so you trusted him. As the two of you walked into your workplace, you could feel everyone's eyes on you and Hawks. You swallowed thickly and led him deeper into the building. Once you reached your section of the building, you took the coffee from him and walked around, handing out the drinks. The whispers of your coworkers seemed to echo in your ears. Your hands were shaky. This was a terrible idea. A horrendous one that you should have never agreed to.

"Rookie! What are you-" Your boss's voice filled the air. You looked up at him as he stood in surprise in front of his office. "Mr. H-Hawks?!"

Hawks flashed a smile, his wings stretching out slightly. "That's me. I met your rookie reporter and decided to set up an interview. That's okay with you, right?"

Your boss hesitated. You could practically see the vein in his forehead pop as he stomped over to you. "What did I tell you?!"

Your face paled. Here it was. You had thought, just for a moment, that life would be okay. That Hawks showing up would make your boss realize how capable you were and treat you like the others. Like a true journalist. Except life would never have worked out for you like that. You were unlucky. Totally and completely. Not even one of the highest ranking heroes could save you.

"Sir, I'm-"

"You pathetic girl! Absolutely disgraceful! How dare you go behind my back and bring him here?! I assigned you specific tasks!"

"That's-"

"I'm not done talking!" He spit, his face red as he yelled at you. "You can't even listen to simple orders!! How the hell are you supposed to interview a pro hero if you're too idiotic to do what you're told?! I was being lenient by not firing you on the spot when you said you wanted to interview Hawks, but I'm done! You're nothing but an embarrassment to this company! You're fired!"

Your chest constricted as your face grew hot with humiliation. Tears started to well in your eyes. Everyone's eyes were on you. You didn't expect to be fired. You thought you would be scolded at most. And now you were panicking. You didn't know what to do. You needed this job. You realized that it didn't matter how they treated you. You didn't know what to do without it.

You took a step forward. "Sir, please. You can't-"

"I am so sorry, Mr. Hawks." Your former boss pushed you out of the way and looked at Hawks. "She must have been such a bother. Why don't we go into my office so we can discuss details for an interview?"

The tears couldn't be stopped now. You looked over at Hawks. His head was hanging down, but he was smirking. Maybe that's what this all was. He was waiting for you to be humiliated. He knew that you were a rookie and doing something like this would be crossing the line. This was nothing but entertainment for him. You sniffled and tried to keep in your sobs. You wanted to go home.

"Is this how you always treat your employees?"

The man looked confused for a moment before nervously chuckling. "Only the disrespectful newbies."

"Pathetic."

"What?"

"I said–" Hawks stepped forward and leaned down. His gaze was dark. "You're pathetic."

"I-I don't understand."

"You abuse your poor employee just because she could land an interview with me and all you can do is shitty paparazzi articles."

He was sweating bullets now. "You must b-be mistaken! We take pride–"

Hawks didn't let him finish. In an instant, several of his feathers had the man pinned against the opposite wall. Everyone gasped, you included. Hawks sauntered forward. The man was trembling, whimpering out apologies. The laid back hero was actually pissed. It would almost be unbelievable if his aura wasn't choking the room with tension and fear.

"Don't give me that shit. There's no pride here. How dare you say she's disgraceful when you were the one who sent her to tail me."

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Hawks! Please, f-forgive me!"

He scoffed. "Don't beg me for forgiveness. Beg her."

My former boss's eyes met mine. "I-I'm sorry! So sorry!"

You couldn't respond, but Hawks seemed satisfied. His feathers returned to his wings and the man slumped to the ground. "I expect to see a formal apology in your next issue."

You were still crying. You couldn't stop and you didn't know why. Hawks grabbed your wrist and took you out of the office. As you followed him, the situation set in again. Despite his scolding, you were still jobless. Unemployed. The tears got stronger and you couldn't help but quietly cry. Hawks led you to an empty hallway. He let go of your wrist and then hugged you tightly.

"It's alright, birdie. It'll be okay."

"It won't be!" You sobbed into his arms, your shoulders hunching in on themselves. "I got fired! I needed that job."

"No, you didn't. Your boss was an asshole."

You shook your head and buried your face into his chest. "I don't care! No one… no one else will take me! He was right. I'm stupid and worthless and-"

Hawks wrapped his wings around you and pressed you tight against his body. One hand gently rubbed your back. "Shh, shh. None of that, okay? Nothing that happened was your fault. You've got fire in you, birdie. Don't let anyone put it out."

"Fire won't get me a job."

Hawks didn't say anything and let you cry. The tension slowly left your body until you were left with a headache. The pain was dulled by the warmth of his wings and the feeling of his strong hands against your body. Everything wasn't alright. You weren't sure what you were going to do. But at least this moment was alright. Warm. Safe. 

"Work for me." Hawks whispered.

Your voice was hoarse as you spoke. "What?"

"Work for me." He repeated. "Come to my hero agency and work for me."

"Wh-What? What would I even do?"

He shrugged and pulled back, looking down at you. "I don't know. But I'll take care of you."

"Hawks, I can't-"

"Keigo." He reached out and gently cupped your face. His thumb caressed the skin of your cheek. "My name is Keigo."

You felt your face heat up. "K-Keigo… I can't just work at your agency for no reason."

"And I can't watch you struggle." He paused for a moment. His eyes had an odd glint to them before completely disappearing. It was almost unnoticeable. "I have an idea."

You scrunched your nose. "I don't like the sound of this…"

"Move in with me. That way you don't have to worry about paying rent and can look for a job."

"You can't be serious!" You scoffed, trying to take a step back.

Keigo didn't let you. His wings caged you in, the grip on your face tightening ever so slightly. "I want to take care of you. I'm the one at fault for getting you fired. If I didn't follow you to the office, none of this would have happened. Let me fix this."

There was something telling you to say no. This wasn't a smart idea. Even if he was being genuine, he was the number two hero. What would people think if some random stranger moved in with him? And that's exactly what you were. A stranger. You could hardly call yourself an acquaintance. That's what made this even more crazy. 

"Hawks…"

"Keigo."

"Keigo." You looked up at him. "I can't."

There was that glint again. It was quickly replaced with guilt as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours. "I promise it'll be temporary. You can move out as soon as you find a job. I just… I want to make amends for all the trouble I caused."

You sighed. "Keigo…"

"Please." He murmured. "I'm a hero. You can trust me. Let me save you."

Your resolve to reject him weakened. You suddenly couldn't think, not with his face so close to yours. And his voice was sincere. It truly sounded like he had no ulterior motive. He was truly remorseful for what he did. He believed he was at fault for your boss firing you. Maybe… you should listen. He wouldn't be the number two hero if he wasn't trustworthy. The doubt inside of you slowly dissipated. It would only be temporary.

"Okay. I'll do it."

Keigo let out a breath of relief. He pulled you into another hug. "There's a good girl. Just take some time to relax and then we can find you a job, okay? Don't worry about anything else."

"Thank you, Keigo. Truly."

"Don't sweat it, birdie." He nuzzled his face against your neck. You could feel him smiling. "I would do anything to protect you."

°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

It had been several months since you moved into Keigo's bachelor pad. The job search was… not going well. Keigo offered to call in as a reference after you sent in your application, but no one ever called back. You had a feeling it was your old boss's doing. After being humiliated by the pro hero, he probably went and spread rumors about you. You were probably blacklisted from the whole entire industry.

Luckily for you, Keigo was a kind roommate. Before his hero shift, he'd always help you make breakfast. Throughout the day, he'd text you and check in on your job search progress. He always seemed to know what you were doing and when. Maybe he had just grown to know you that well. When he came home, you usually had dinner waiting for him out of guilt for freeloading. It had become routine at this point. 

"I'm home!" Keigo called out your name. "Did you have a good day?"

You poked your head out of the kitchen. "Hey, Keigo. How was work?"

He took off his shoes and tossed his keys on the table by the door. His wings stretched out as he groaned. "Sam as usual. A bit quiet today, not a lot of villains."

You hummed before going back into the kitchen. You were finishing up dinner. The smell of grilled chicken wafted through the house. Keigo walked into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway. He crossed his arms. You could feel his eyes following your every movement. You tried to act nonchalant as you took some chicken skewers off the stove.

"So… what did you do today?"

You shrugged. "Job searching. As always."

"Really? And you didn't go out or anything?"

You stiffened. "N-no, I didn't. I'm trying to save money, remember?"

He pushed himself off the doorway and walked closer to you. "You're making my favorite. Are you trying to butter me up?"

"No, I'm trying to show my appreciation for letting me stay here." You turned off the stove and turned around. "Is that so wrong?"

Keigo studied you. You tried to keep your expression light. You were hiding something, but you didn't want to tell him just yet. You wanted to do it properly. You grabbed a plate filled with chicken skewers and held it out. His eyes moved down to the food before back up to you. He gave you a lopsided smirk.

"Birdie, you can't lie to me."

"Keigo!" You huffed and shook the plate slightly. "Can't you just play along?"

He chuckled. "Fine. But you'll tell me everything after dinner. Alright?"

You smiled at him. "That was the plan."

"Go. Sit. I'll make us some drinks."

You obediently went to the living room. Dinner went as usual, watching a show together and talking about the day that had just ended. Keigo used it as a distraction to keep you from getting too depressed about your situation. But this time, you were excited. You happily ate your food and downed your drink, all while talking animatedly about your day, making sure to avoid going into too much detail.

By the time dinner had finished, your cheeks were flushed and you felt almost light headed. Keigo swore that your drink was light on the booze, knowing you can't handle your alcohol well. It must've been from whatever you were hiding from him. Keigo scooted closer to you, his wing wrapping around your back.

He let out an amused sigh. "Alright. Stop hiding and spill."

"Okay, okay! So…" You paused for dramatic effect. "I went out today."

"And lied to me about it."

"It was a simple fib. Anyway, I met with one of my college friends. He said he's opening up a newspaper company and wants me to join!"

Keigo's eyes widened slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Really? A new company?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! And he wants me to be one of the main journalists! He said he always enjoyed my work and thinks I would be a great fit. It's also just outside Tokyo, so-"

"Wait, wait, wait." He held up his hand. "Tokyo? That's so far away."

"Well, yeah, but I'll be moving there. He said there's some really great cheap listings in his apartment complex."

"What's the pay like?"

"We haven't exactly-"

"And he's reputable? Not a paparazzi wanting to make a quick buck?"

You frowned, the excitement slowly draining from you. "No, he's not a paparazzi. He's a good guy with similar views as mine. Aren't you happy for me?"

"I don't know, birdie." Keigo leaned back against the couch. "It just seems suspicious. Does he have any investors? How do you know that it isn't a scam? Can you even afford to move right now?"

"Okay, you're being a bit of a dick. I tried to surprise you with good news and your first reaction is skepticism?"

"Of course it is! I don't want you to get hurt. I'm trying to look out for you."

"And I appreciate that. But now I'm ready to be on my own. This was the plan all along."

Your head was starting to pound. You didn't get into spats with Keigo often. He was normally very supportive of your efforts to try and find a job and get back on your feet. But suddenly, it seemed like he thought you were being too reckless. Which you weren't. You knew your friend was a smart guy. There was no way the newspaper would fail. Sure, it would have a slow start. But this was good. Why didn't Keigo see that?

"I understand you're concerned, Keigo. And I appreciate your concern."

"So you won't take the job?"

"No, I'll still take it."

He scoffed, saying your name in annoyance. "You can't. You're making a decision too rashly. How can you accept the job without even having an apartment in the area first?"

"I told you, he said there's units available in his apartment complex!"

"You're not gonna do this."

"Excuse me?" You glared at him. "You don't tell me what to do."

"You live in my house, birdie. You listen to my rules."

"You're the one who said I can stay here until I find something else! I have, so I'm going to leave!"

"You're being stupid."

"Fuck you."

You had enough. You had given Keigo the benefit of the doubt and thought this would go smoothly. He had promised to help you. This wasn't helping. This was just ridiculous. And you didn't have to deal with it. You stood up, ready to storm off. Dizziness washed over you and you wobbled on your feet. You felt weak. Keigo stood up, stepping in front of you. His gaze was dark as he reached out and grasped your wrist tightly.

"That wasn't very nice." He hissed.

"L-Let… Let go."

Keigo tugged you forward. "I won't. I told you I'd protect you, didn't I? And I've been doing that the whole time. I made sure every job rejected you because I knew it wasn't safe."

His words rang in your head. Your eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"You're only safe here. You have food, a safe place to sleep… me. Without me, you would've been out on the street with nowhere to go. Don't let this job ruin everything."

"Let me go." You weakly tried to pull away from him. "You're s-scaring me."

"Can't you see it? I'm protecting you. I had to make you rely on me. Do you think I didn't know your boss would fire you if you showed up? Of course I did! But it was necessary so you'd realize that I'm the only one who cares about you."

You felt like throwing up. Everything that happened… was because of him. He wasn't calling into those jobs and giving you praise. He was sabotaging you. Every rejection was his fault. You getting fired was his fault. You were so blind to it because you were so desperate to be helped. Keigo smiled, reaching out and caressing your face. Tears welled in your eyes.

"Don't cry."

"What did you do?" Your voice was trembling with fear and anger. "How could you ruin my life like this?"

He clicked his tongue. "Ah, come on. Don't be so cold. Admit that you haven't felt this relaxed in a while. You love it here."

You needed to get out before it was too late. You mustered up as much strength as you could and shoved him away. Keigo stumbled backward and you quickly ran towards the front door. Your heart was pounding and you felt like you were going to faint. The fear inside of you was starting to make you numb. Adrenaline flowed through your veins. Almost there. Almost. Just a couple more steps. Then you would be-

"Should've put more in your drink."

Of course he drugged you. That explained why you felt so sick. There was no way you'd be able to escape someone with a quirk like Keigo's anyway. You were doomed from the start. His feathers shoved you down to the ground. You flipped on your back, trying to tear them off. Keigo sauntered over before straddling you and pinning your arms above your head with one hand. The other gently trailed down your cheek to your neck.

"Why?" You whimpered. "Why me?"

"You looked so helpless." Keigo murmured. "Staring up at me with those big, desperate eyes. I couldn't just leave you. I'm a hero, birdie."

"This isn't what a hero does!"

His hand slowly moved down your body to your hip. "No… no, it's not. But it's what a man in love does."

You almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity. You continued to struggle against him. His eyes were filled with an obsessive glint. He leaned down, pressing his lips against your neck. You were too weak to push him off. Whatever he had drugged you with was taking full effect. His lips trailed up your neck, to your cheek, before finally capturing your lips in a kiss. He pressed his body against yours and a shiver ran down your spine.

After a moment, he pulled away. "I won't let you leave. You'll stay here where I can protect you. Where I can love you."

"You-"

"If you try to escape, I'll just bring you right back. I'll tie you down, keep you shackled. Anything so you'll stay. Stop fighting it. Let me keep you safe. Let me be your hero."

°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

Your whole body ached. A bright, blinding light made you groan and squeeze your eyes shut even tighter than they already were. You turned on your side and curled up. You didn't know how long you've been asleep. It must have been around noon by now. You felt someone warm next to you. A hand gently ran through your hair.

"Wake up, birdie."

Your eyes reluctantly cracked open. Keigo was lying next to you. Last night's memories threatened to make you have a breakdown. Keigo didn't let you go. He kept you in his bed, kept a hold on you so you wouldn't escape. Not like you could. Keigo pulled you closer and buried his face into your neck.

He inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction. "I can smell my cologne on you."

"Don't you have work today?" You mumbled, not reciprocating his touch. 

"Yeah. I'll leave soon." He kissed your skin. "I'll keep an eye on you all day. To make sure you're behaving."

You knew what he really meant. It was so you wouldn't run away. Even if you did, what would you do? Tell the world that the number two pro hero Hawks was actually a crazy stalker? No one would believe you. He would cover it up by saying you were a scorned reporter that blamed your unemployment on him. You were trapped.

"Okay." You sat up and rubbed your eyes.

He sat up as well. "Be a good girl while I'm gone?"

All the fight had left your body. You nodded numbly. "Sure."

He kissed your cheek. "Good. I love you."

You didn't say anything. He frowned and gripped your chin, turning it so you were looking at him. "C'mon, birdie. Don't shut down."

"Sorry."

"Let's try this again, hmm?" He kissed you gently. "I love you."

"I love you too."

That satisfied him enough. He got out of bed and started to get ready. You just sat listlessly on the bed. Everything you had dreamed of was destroyed. You wouldn't be some amazing journalist, releasing groundbreaking stories on heroes and hero society. You'd be shackled by the very person all of Japan trusted. You were resigned to your fate that was now in the hands of Keigo. And there was nothing you could do to change that. You were only given one choice.

Accept the love of Keigo Takami.

[cloveroctobers]

HOW THEY DEAL WITH DISRESPECTFUL NEIGHBORS — MULTI [Summer Preferences]

A/N: thanks for voting on my poll, which I already knew who was going to win that but I still wanted to do a preference anyway since I never got around to writing what I originally wanted for my other characters on my summer prompt list rip to that idea! I’m writing in the order of which was voted from most to least highest minus one character.

WARNINGS: language, violence is sometimes the answer 🤭 + FC changed for Mikey due to recent news unfortunately, *GIF DOES NOT BELONG TO ME, not here to argue with anyone that feels different and you’re always welcome to keep imagining JB or simply do not engage with this.

<- read my previous summer anthology prompt here.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

~ARMANDO~

He doesn’t take disrespect lightly.

The both of you lived just fine in your condo out in Miami, although Armando preferred the privacy more than anything he just kept this to the back of his mind that he was going to provide for your dream house together. Having your four year old daughter, Isaura only gave him more drive to get out of here.

The neighbors that lived on the floor directly above you, were all wide smiles and friendly making it their special job to try and introduce themselves to whoever they caught. They found you three at the pool one Sunday evening before dinner. Armando immediately felt they were weird telling you later that night in bed beside you, “they look like they eat people.”

“Armando!” You scolded as you slipped a bonnet on a half sleep Isaura, “they do but maybe they’re just the over friendly type.”

Armando sucked his teeth as he reached around you to snatch the sleepy toddler into his chest, “niña, can you say oblivious? tell mama that’s exactly what she is.”

Isaura just shifted her head looking away from the both of you.

“See, even your own daughter doesn’t want to listen to your mess. Give me my baby back so I can put her down,” you waved your fingers while Armando swings his legs to the edge of the bed.

He shifts the tiny girl against him and shakes his head, “nah, I got it. Got to make sure the fucken weirdos aren’t hiding in her room since you don’t want to believe me.”

“Hey, watch your mouth!” You lecture while Armando rolls his eyes, peeking down to see if Isaura even budged at his foul language before you continued, “I don’t know what goes in your mind sometimes,” you sigh with a shake of your head as Armando makes his way to the door, “…now you know I’m going to be up half the night checking on her.”

“Don’t worry about it, daddy’s gonna take the daybed just in case.”

Frowning you respond, “So you’re just going to abandon me?”

Armando snorts, “there’s enough of me to go around but if you wanna stay hold up in here by yourself, when we have the hills have eyes lurking from the floor above, that’s on you.”

“Bastard.” You muttered just as Armando was about to shut the door.

“What was that, mami?”

“I said I’m getting my neck pillow.” You answered as Armando laughs to himself, leaving the door open just a crack before carrying on down the hallway.

Armando would peep the disrespect more than you would but mostly on separate occasions. First it started with the husband constantly taking Armando’s assigned parking spot with one of his many cars, he would always turn up right when Armando had to circle around to take someone else’s, and when he was face to face with the husband’s false apologies and story about how he had to keep his monster truck locked away in storage thirty minutes away from the building, yet he always decided to take it out when Armando worked late nights…which was pretty convenient if you asked Armando.

Then you would tell Armando how the wife would make…interesting comments about how many more kids you two planned to have. “Hopefully a soccer team with your good looks!” She would laugh as she gripped your wrist. She would also ask: How you two managed to have free time with a four year old and if she was receiving enough attention between the two of you? That last question was off putting because why was this woman worrying about your child? Then if you listened closely enough, around the time it was time for Isaura’s nap or bedtime, whether Mike, Marcus and his family, or your best friend or family were watching her while the both of you were at work, the couple would decide to either start salsa lessons (according to the wife, Amy) which ended up turning into salsa lessons with no clothes directly on the floor, the husband winked at Armando who was not the least bit impressed.

“I think it’s common courtesy that you two learn to keep it down for not only us who have a child…who also has a routine but for your other neighbors as well. I’m sure there’s plenty of classes out in town you two can get into outside of this building.” You hinted to them.

“Oh sorry! I told Kit we were being too loud, see honey?!” She weakly slaps the wannabe WWE star against his buff chest, “We’ll definitely keep everyone more in mind this time, again sorry about that.” Amy apologizes.

“A man has needs though, am I right?” Kit would laugh, clapping his hand down on Armando’s shoulder who peeked at it, wondering why this man was so comfortable touching him.

Armando sniffed, “and you need to have some respect is all that we’re saying. Along with removing your hand from me.”

“Hey now! No need for the animosity, we’re all friends here neighbor!” Kit says as he applies a little more pressure on his hold of Armando’s shoulder but that only causes Armando to darken his stare.

Even Armando knew that statement was fake. Next thing he knows, when he’s heading out to work the morning after, he’s got a broken side mirror on the driver’s side and a large scratch on the passenger door with Kit’s car—that’s usually parked to the right of Armando’s—already gone for the day. Armando doesn’t take long to assess the situation, jaw tight as he looks around the garage for where exactly the cameras are. He would be hacking those as soon as he clocked in and didn’t give a damn who had something to say about it. He ended up calling you on the way to work, thanks to him phoning Dorn to carpool—him and Kelly had a disagreement so she drove to work on her own—to tell you exactly what happened since it was one of those days where you clocked in earlier than he did.

“I’ll try and keep him from doing something stupid.” Dorn calls out to you from the driver’s side.

You whisper as you stepped out briefly from working with a client as an aesthetician, “would you? I know it’ll be hard—

“I’m right here.” Armando reminded, “I’m done dealing with their creepy asses, Kit better hope I don’t see him when I get home tonight because his ass might turn up missing.”

You didn’t even argue because once Armando had something made up in his mind, it was hard for him to ever see another perspective. Also you didn’t doubt that Kit had something to do with it.

The last straw was when Kit and Amy’s German shepherd nipped towards Isaura’s face, when you had a minor confrontation with Amy, who you ran into while out shopping. She tried to sweep over the fact that she admitted to wishing that it was Armando on top of her instead of her actual husband and that it wasn’t a big deal because Kit was doing the same with you. Not only did she fix her mouth to say that, she also said she thought about what a kid would look like with her looks and Armando’s. “There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming.”

She said and it felt like she had spit in your face at how wicked her smile was on her overfilled lips. Again she was too close in your space but once Isaura ripped a cry so loud below along with the sounds of snarling from Amy’s dog, you didn’t hesitate to pull your child up into your arms and to kick at the dog.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Amy yelled pulling on her pet’s leash, “He’s just an animal!”

“An animal who tried to bite my kid’s face off! You’re lucky my foot didn’t connect but next time my fist won’t miss yours.”

“Are you threatening me?!”

“It’s not a threat, It’s a promise.” You concluded, “Stay away from my family if you know what’s good for you.”

“Excuse me? What does that mean?” Amy kept a tight hold on the leash now, “These are the things Kit and I get for being good neighbors?!”

You stopped in your tracks as you turned to give Amy one last look while you cradled a scared Isaura to your chest, “it means exactly what you think it means. Y’all keep saying your good neighbors but is that in the building with us or in your sick delusions? I’m warning you Amy, back the fuck off or you’ll really be sorry.”

Amy sticks her nose up in the air, “my uncle is the best lawyer in the city. If you’re thinking about harming my family then I’ll sue both of you so hard that little Laura will have no choice but to have a new family. Kit and I have been trying for months for a little one and Laura is the cutest thing.”

Laughing you found it hilarious that Amy thought she could continue to try you with her mind games. She really didn’t know who she was fucking with.

“I can guarantee that your uncle doesn’t have shit on my man. Also my father-in-law is a pretty good detective and he’s already heard about you two, just waiting for the word. The difference between you and I, is that I love only one man. And sweetie, it’s no competition when I’ve already won. Now you enjoy the rest of your day…before it expires.” It was your turn to send her a sickeningly charming smile as you spun back on your heels.

Leaving her like a gapping fish, you make your way back to your car, strapping Issy in with another caress to her face, quadruple checking that the dog didn’t do anything to her face and handing Issy one of her toys to cuddle with on the way back home. As you started your engine, you immediately called Armando through the car’s Bluetooth before pulling off from the curb.

It’s game night when there’s a knock on the door. Since Armando is helping Issy with the game piece on the game board, you push off the couch to get the door.

“Oh hi!” You greet, which makes Armando also move to get to his feet.

“We’re your new neighbors on the floor above who just moved in and we wanted to say thanks for the blueberry crumble and bottle of wine you sent our way, you really didn’t have to do that! We just thought it would be the kind thing to find the time to come down and introduce ourselves.” The woman speaks first with her hand held out.

You grasp her hand with a warm smile as you say, “mostly everyone is to themselves here but we got…pretty close with our old neighbors and my boyfriend, Armando and I thought we’d keep the tradition going.”

Armando gives a short wave at the two new faces as he stands beside you now, “hello,” he addresses the two while he bounces a giggly Issy on his hip.

“Aw, she’s so precious! Isn’t she, Steven?” The girl at the door elbows the guy beside her.

You take in her expression carefully, “do you two have any kids?”

She jabbed a thumb at the taller man, “Oh I’ll leave that all to my brother here.”

“I don’t have any…at least no one’s ever told me anything.” He nonchalantly shrugged while he looked off in thought up from his phone, while his sister rolls her eyes at him.

Armando snickers, which makes you quirk up a brow at him.

“Do you guys know where the other tenants moved off to? The agent says it was pretty abrupt but we got a steal on most of their furniture.” The young girl chats.

Armando speaks up, “heard they really wanted to explore more of Europe…guess Miami living inspired them to see what else the world has to offer.”

“Sweet,” Steven nods, “that would be a dream.”

“That is what they say life is,” Armando adds as he sends a quick wink to you while you lightly shake your head at him. He then slips an arm around your waist appearing as a Kodak moment to the siblings outside the door, “but welcome to the neighborhood you two, I’ve got a feelin’ you’ll be good neighbors.”

In short: he eliminates the problem.

~RIO~

He had been away on a business trip when he gets back home earlier than expected. He likes to do this sometimes, liking to surprise you with his pop-in’s—take that how you will. What he wasn’t expecting was his ex sitting in the sitting room with you, the two of you chatting to the right of the home from the foyer over a bottle of tequila.

“…so the hell are you gonna tell lollipop king?”

“Girl, who?”

“You know his name, Christopher!”

You laugh followed by a groan, “he’ll find out sooner than later since old man Stewart and him are practically golfing buddies who act like they don’t gossip.”

Rio used that moment to clear his throat from his leaned position against the doorway. He didn’t like how your guard was down as he just lingered there, you slouched on the couch and Rhea balled up in one of the living chairs but that was another conversation. He needed to know just what you were hiding from him and now.

“Tell me what, mama?” Rio rasped, hands clasped in front of him.

Rhea’s mouth formed into an O-shape, getting ready to collect her things but Rio cuts his eyes at the short haired woman too, “nah, you don’t gotta leave on my account.”

“Believe me I’m not,” Rhea sassed as she collected her square glass and the almost empty bottle, “I’m going to check on our son while you guys—debrief.”

You gasped, “this involves you too, you know?!”

“I don’t live here!”

“Could have fooled me.” Rio adds as Rhea makes her way by him, bumping her shoulder with his.

Rio just snorts as the woman heads across the hall towards the side entrance of the kitchen. When he sets his eyes back on you, he watched as you used one of your hands to pinch in between your brows as you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth. The buzzed haired man then plops down beside you, lolling his head to meet your gaze but you just quickly down the rest of your drink.

“What’s going on?” Rio questions.

You exhale, “oh nothing much, it’s good to see you though!”

“You’re tipsy on a Wednesday afternoon and not on wine…something’s up?” Rio analyzed you pretty quick, which was to be expected.

Exhaling you close your eyes, thinking if maybe you just dozed off then Rio would leave you alone and Rhea would sneak out with Marcus out the back. You knew that was a slim chance since that boy loved his father a lot and would want to see him before heading back home with his mom.

Your eyes were widened as Rio gripped your bandaged hand, making you wince as he did so. You were hoping that he wouldn’t notice but you couldn’t be that much of a fool, not when it came to your husband.

“I’m going to ask only one more time before I start looking for answers myself, so tell me what happened?” Rio quizzes one last time.

Sighing you meet Rio’s eyes as you tell him, “Polly’s mother is visiting and she started shit with Marcus while he was outside playing in the front yard. I was bringing the plants from the garage up front when this all happened but Stewart saw it happening from his window and came out before I got up front. I handled it, she got HOA involved, and now apparently there’s a meeting on Saturday morning.”

The shift in Rio was instant as he sat up, still holding your hand in his lap, “she don’t even live here and she thinks she can say something to the kid? Did she do this to your hand? Give me the details, mama.”

And so you did. You told him how Marcus was running around out front keeping himself entertained while you were dragging the outdoor plants that you thought would look nice in the backyard up front from the garage. It took some time for you to pick up on the yelling, making the palm of your hand get impaled by one of agave leaves that you tossed to the ground at the familiar rebuttal of Marcus’ voice. Your instincts kicked in even if your hand bled like crazy and hurt like hell, you didn’t take kindly to strangers screaming at kids.

You were once an elementary school teacher before becoming a housewife to Rio. There was always a certain way that you needed to speak to people, especially kids and you weren’t having it with Polly’s mother who always visited in the summer. Polly was cool, even her mother-in-law was tolerable (although she was a yapper) but you just didn’t understand how someone like Polly had a mother as nasty as this Karen who was drilling into Marcus who she didn’t even know. In her mind she believed that Marcus specifically shouldn’t be playing around the sidewalk, that it was against the “rules” of this community that she wasn’t sure Marcus even belonged to and should be playing in a different area instead.

You guys had a fence but Marcus said that he hit the ball too far and it ended up on the sidewalk so that’s the only reason he came around the fence. You didn’t care what the reason was, he knew not to play near the street of the gated community but you trusted his word regardless and old man Stewart confirmed this with a nod of his head. He had the both of your back’s and you guys spent the holidays every so often at each other’s houses.

“It got ugly, babe. Told her to keep her finger out my face and to not ever speak to my kid like that again. She tried to chest bump my back so I turned around and shoved her on her ass. She’s lucky I didn’t smack the shit out her wal-mart Glenn Close looking ass. Which was enough ammo for her to call HOA but we’ve got cameras just as much as Polly’s got her ring camera so I’m not worried. I just didn’t want Marcus to deal with that bullshit.”

Rio ends up smiling at you and you widen your eyes at him. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Oh it’s not—I’m just proud of you.”

“For not going to jail?”

Rio tilts his head to the side, “The verdicts probably still out on that one, knowing the kind of woman she is.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll have to talk to Polly.” Rio decided as he caressed your fingertips.

“She’s already sent mountains of texts, she’s with us and says she’ll work on talking to her demon—I mean mother.” You can’t fight against the liquor but even still, you said what you said.

Rio nods, “you don’t even got to worry about the rest. I got us.”

“…do I want to know?”

“Nah,” Rio shrugged as he used his other hand to caress your face, “just continue being the best thing that happened to me. I know I don’t have to thank you but I want to, for looking at Marcus as your own.”

You laugh, “he’s a great kid, part of you, which makes me love you guys even more so of course I will—without question.”

Rio pulls you by the chin to his lips, which you’ve been missing all week and when he lets you slip your tongue into his mouth, he pulls back with a grin. “Later mama, I got to make sure you two are good first.”

“Huh?” Your eyes fluttered open as Rio holds your own hand up in front of your face to prove his point, “that’s just a scratch.”

“Our girl will be the judge of that.” Rio tells, “Can’t believe you didn’t try and sneak her over here.”

“Thought she was on business with you guys.”

“We got more than one medic, mama. I kept the best here with y’all.”

“How kind.”

“I’m a kind guy.”

“I don’t think the dust bag will think so when you’re finished spooking her.”

Rio doesn’t fight his grin but replies, “Who says I’m gonna do it? I got people for that but the message will be real clear.”

“Rio—

He shushes you as he pecks your lips once more, making you lean your forehead against his, happy that he’s home before he’s sending out a code to your number one medic girl to stop by the house ASAP.

the both of you break away as the thudding of steps decended down the steps, revealing Marcus who called out Rio’s name, who he needed further reassurance from.

“Hey bud,” Rio starts as he embraces the young boy before knocking their fist together, “you good?”

He slowly nods but Rio knows he’s not, although he had a feeling Marcus held his own. It usually took a lot to bring it out of him to defend himself but Rio would see for himself once he looked at the footage tonight.

“You know what? Let’s go play outside while the ladies finish up.” Rio gets to his feet and the slight panic in Marcus’ face is evident, making your heart break while Rhea tightens the folding of her arms.

Rio squeezed Marcus’ shoulder, “hey, when you’re with me you remember you’re the king of your own castle, aight? Nobody can tell you nothing, move how you wanna move and own it. This is your neighborhood too, you understand?”

“…yes dad.”

“Alright? I got goalie.”

Rio sends a firm look to you two ladies before he heads outside with Marcus right beside him.

He attentively analyzed the situation before deciding what else needs to be done. One thing you could never do was go against the family he built and that was always serious to him. Anybody that messed with his family, immediately became his target and if it had to be a part time neighbor from across the street?

So be it.

They’ll learn soon enough.

They always do.

~LUCA~

“Babe! You’re not gonna believe this.” Luca calls out to you as he slams the front entrance door from down below shut, before making his way upstairs.

You can always tell when Luca’s home because he has a tendency to be heavy handed, always slamming the door that it tends to shake the house. It’s not something he purposely does, majority of the time he doesn’t even notice but it is a thing and even your neighbors in the townhouse to the left of you mockingly mentioned it.

They were assholes anyway and should be the last ones to talk about noise. Having loud company over every other day and some type of event at their home every other weekend, also crowding up the streets, without inviting you guys on multiple occasions. There were eight specific units on this street that were all grouped and managed underneath the same property and you would think they would also include you two. The both of you quickly learned that Chicago was much different than Copenhagen.

And what Luca remembered.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart and give it some time, yeah? Otherwise? They can piss right off!” Luca’s older sister that he’s reconnected with while being back in the states tells you two, laughing lightly as she’s helping you two unpack weeks ago.

You wouldn’t have if you didn’t decide to be neighborly, bringing them their mail when it accidentally got mixed in with yours, waving at them in passing as you chatted with the other residents, and then actually going over to introduce yourselves with a platter. It was all fraudulent and they just didn’t want to be bothered with you two, Luca gradually started to forget about it after finding a new position at one of the top three upscale restaurants in the city until you would bring it up. And of course he listened to anything that bothered you.

Their music was too loud for hours at a time sometimes until two in the morning on a week night, Luca would calmly address the situation to the guy of the household when he would get a hold of him on his way in from running around the city in sweats and a hoodie—yes in the middle of a scorching August, the both of you always had early mornings with you being a medical assistant down at the hospital and with Luca always having to do prep. You didn’t have the patience to stick around for the guy and his significant other never came to the door when you both knew she was home probably hungover.

Luca was friendly in his approach about it and at first, the athlete told Luca that they were just celebrating as much as they could before he was back on the road to get in the box yet he couldn’t help but to throw in a jab, “They do have these things called single family homes. Maybe you two should consider that.” In the end he said they’d try to keep it down. That still rubbed you the wrong way when Luca slipped up and told you that part.

Which only meant turning the music up even louder that the house rattled on their end. If their garbage was over filled, they would dump some of it into yours attracting raccoons but would then claim it had to be one of the other neighbors—you two had a ring cam, it wasn’t. The last straw was the fiancée drunkly pissing right in the path of your garage, which you stepped in the next morning when you were running late to work.

Humming you turn your attention from the street view of the balcony to Luca who stood in the doorway. You sat comfortably in the outdoor chair, paperback turned over on the table as you finished sipping at your fruit water.

“Hey baby,” you greet with a smile, relaxed and bare faced on your day off in the summer light as you held your face up for Luca to place a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before he sat in the chair across from you.

Luca stretched his arms across the table as he greeted you back, “hello darling…you’re not gonna believe this!” He continues.

“What? That you suddenly caved and like Chicago dogs now?” You quizzed, folding your own arms as you leaned against the table, ready to listen.

Luca chuckles, “not likely, babe. Guess I won’t ever fit into their standards, yeah?”

“I think the world will still turn.”

“I think so too,” Luca agrees with a small smirk, “listen to this. I went to the bakery, the one Marcus is working part-time at now because of the whole thing with Carmy’s uncle—just to check on him you know? Guess who was also in there?”

You raise your brows after finding it sweet that Luca made it his mission to check in on Marcus. The two hit it off when Marcus trained underneath him for a couple of weeks back then and he’s been over to the flat a few times along with Sydney. Luca didn’t give you much time to guess since he was so adamant about telling you about his day. Usually when something was on Luca’s mind, his words went haywire out of excitement—depending what it was of course.

“Ryan!”

You blinked at the news of your boyfriend running into your problematic next door neighbor in slight confusion, “okay…a little surprised he likes baked goods since he gives the impression that he drinks egg yolks and eats raw meat for fun.”

It was Luca’s turn to furrow his naturally arched brows, “I’m not quite sure how you’ve gotten that idea and you might want to cut back on your time watching Santa Clarita Diet. It might help.”

You snort as you wave your fingers along for the now buzzed blond to continue. It wouldn’t be the first show that you watched where Luca passed judgment on. He is definitely the one to ask a thousand questions while you’re trying to watch something.

“Ryan told me, Leah was rushed to the hospital yesterday morning.” Luca informs you, “Want to know what for?”

Sitting back against the chair, you keep your arms crossed and fight the urge to roll your eyes, “…not particularly, no.”

Luca bites down on his bottom lip trying to hold it in but doesn’t, “she crapped out a parasite.”

Your mouth drops open, “You’re lying.”

“Honest to flavor town.” Luca does the praying motion before pointing to the sky and you knew it was serious business if he mentioned Guy Fieri.

Clasping a hand against your mouth you try to hide your snickers but Luca picks up on the fact that you found this a little too amusing.

“…what have you done?” He points an accusatory finger at you.

Lifting your shoulders, your lips twist around in laughter and you dared peeked back at Luca who was awaiting your answer. You wouldn’t leave him in the dark much longer, “fine! I sent a cleanse her way after all that day drinking and with my medical knowledge…I thought I’d give a helping hand.”

“Which means what?” Luca pressed, sitting back as well as he listened to you.

“I may have or may not have used the papayas that Grace left here before she went back to Texas when we went to that farmer’s market,” you slowly admit of your time with your old friend who came to visit with her baby girl Charlie, informing your boyfriend of the slight clues, “we both know I’m allergic and I didn’t want them to go to waste. So I made our lovely neighbors some papaya cereal with the seeds, put it up real nice in a jar for them to enjoy. Left it by their door and watched Ryan bring the bait in.”

Luca exhales, “you’re actually starting to scare me.”

“Remember that old nutritionist who’s heavily spiritual I told you about that we always end up seeing once a month at the hospital?” You ask while Luca nods his head, “she experienced the same thing partygirlLeah99 did but her’s was intentional.”

The bomb that you dropped had Luca clenching his eyes shut, “what you’re telling me is…you basically gave our neighbor some form of a laxative?”

“Just removed the toxins and clearly Leah has some. How many parasites was it?”

Luca shook his head, “no, no, no. We’re not just going to skip over the chaotic evil you’ve just done.”

You tilted your head to the side, “I think it was more lawful evil…maybe even good. She pissed on our property, Luca! And Ryan’s a dick.”

Luca holds his forehead now stressed, “Yeah and he can K.O. us if he really wanted to if he ever found out! He’s a professional boxer—

“I don’t care! Lessons need to be taught and he’s out of here in the fall anyway so that’s one less problem we have to deal with.” You shrug as you reach for your water again but Luca snatched it back.

He sighs, “we talked about this…you can’t just go and take matters into your own hands without discussing it with me first. I said I would talk to them about the peeing situation—

“You tried talking to them before! They don’t care about us, and sure they don’t owe us anything but I worked really hard on that charcuterie board, then they excluded us constantly and probably will do it again once Halloween comes around—

“So that’s what this is about? You’re worried about Halloween?” Luca questions, knowing it was one of your favorite Halloween parties.

“How dare they throw a summerween party when I’m the number one queen of the spooks!” You childishly turn your head to peek out into Chicago’s scenery from your first balcony.

Luca sips at your water now and exaggerates as he lets out an, “ah! That’s refreshing but I don’t know what to say about my girlfriend being upset over some people that we don’t even know well enough to care about their perceptions of us, if they even have any.”

Both of your professions caused you to be around all sorts of people, especially some downright mean ones but you both persevered. Luca would always take it as a learning curve, whereas you tended to take things more personal majority of the time. Yes you were the type to cry when angry, go ahead and sue your sensitive heart! Luca was only a little older than you and slightly better at communicating—when he wasn’t a nervous wreck—but you on the other hand tended to proceed with action rather than words or a conversation like Luca.

“Don’t say anything to me, just love me, choose me,” you playfully recite while Luca scoffs, “and wish those bitches an early happy Halloween, specifically from me to them. What she won’t know what hurt her.” You wink while Luca runs a hand over his buzzed summer look in shock.

“Well it actually did,” Luca frowns with his hands held out although you’re still unphased, “and doesn’t this count as assault?”

There goes the panic everybody!

You knew a good lawyer that shared the same blood as Luca (if it ever came to that) you weren’t worried and maybe you were chaotic evil after all? Depends who you ask.

Pouting you say, “Did she die?”

“No!”

“Then everybody wins!” You clap as you push back from the table, “So…What’s for dinner?”

“Not fucking papayas that’s for sure.” Luca states while you laugh, beginning to collect your things to bring back inside.

Luca sits outside for a moment longer, you briefly kiss his lips, him shaking his head at you afterwards once more as he whacks your backside before you head in to search the fridge, and he stares out into the city just wondering what else this place will bring.

Hopefully better understanding of being neighbors in the states!

MIKEY

“The hell happened to you?” Mikey asks, sneaking up behind you in your kitchen.

Which wasn’t unfamiliar for him to do but you did let out a yelp as you stood by your coffee and tea counter. You turned to your old friend, who scanned his eyes all over your filth covered clothes.

“My neighbor Lorraine is mad that I called her son out for being a pervert. Then she tried to argue that my dog is barking at all times of the night so I don’t have the right to speak on her son!” You paced the floor.

Mikey crosses his arms, “well she isn’t too bright because that thing in there is far from a dog,” he starts while you give him the side eye for talking shit about your Maine coon, “and what’s this about a pervert?”

You sigh, “..her son is just this college dropout who’s apparently into astronomy and thinks I don’t catch him with his telescope set out on the front sidewalk, right where the living room window is, as if he’s gone camping with my body being the view!”

It wouldn’t be Mikey’s first time catching you streaking around the house either—that was your fault for giving him a key—but this random kid? He had a problem with.

Mikey rubs at his facial hair, “Was he the one that did this to you?”

You huff, “that little bitch ran as soon as mommy Lorraine thought it would be nice to dump her trash on me out in the courtyard.”

There was always something going on in your courtyard out back, whether it was random cookouts even in the winter!, residents fighting over which outdoor seating technically belonged to them (it didn’t belong to anyone, everybody at the condo had access to it), to Lorraine overpopulating the backyard with her garden and horrible smelling manure, and fires being started by the little kids for fun, Mikey can never say it’s a dull moment on Sunnyside Ave.

“…and what did you do?” Mikey questioned, his lips twisting at the corners, knowing he wasn’t the best influence, especially if the shoe was on the other foot.

Which you knew, hanging out with him, Richie, and even Michelle always had the potential go left very quickly.

“There’s onion juice or some shit in my eye,” you start using your wrist to wipe at your red eye before saying, “and if I somehow end up blind before I get in to my eye doctor this year…it’s a wrap for her.”

“So you’re going in for the silent kill?” Michael summarizes, “that leaves the creeper to me then, is he home? I’d love to have a talk with ‘em!”

He points towards the back door which leads out to the courtyard. You leap forward, latching onto Michael’s wrist, “which I’m sure you’ll get your chance but I see you bought something for me?”

Michael rolls his eyes as he glanced back at the counter that contained a bag, “you’re real observant aren’t ya?”

“I’m also hungry but I need to get this stench off me first.” You slap your hands beside your thighs.

He jokingly steps forward to take a whiff towards you, “…I wasn’t going to say anything but whew!”

“Shut up, Mikey!” You shove him back but he just laughs.

Mikey pinches a piece of your hair on your way by, pulling something from it, “looks like she got you good with some shallot skin and soil if you ask me! But I got a nice Cubano waiting for ya when you get out.”

Your mouth watered at the mention of your favorite sandwich Mikey always brought over to you every other Tuesday, “can’t wait for that baby to bring me the biggest serotonin.”

Mikey grins at you.

When you drag your eyes back to meet his you ask, “so how was your day, bub? Good?”

“Yeah! I think it’s going to be alright.”

You hold your hand out, “tell me about it?”

He takes your hand as you lead him to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet as you quickly get into your skincare, terrified of skin mites thanks to some shit Sugar sent to a group chat between you, her, and Michelle. Michael doesn’t mind watching you do your routine, falling into quiet chatter before you strip out of your clothes.

He tries not to let his stare linger but he always thought you were a goddess, even with your clothes on. The comfortability between you two was strong, that at times it felt like there was nothing to ever be afraid of, especially when it came to showing your most vulnerable selves to each other. It’s not long before he’s joining you behind the shower liner, helping each other clean away whatever the day held before you’re embracing each other, arms tucked underneath each others as your now loud conversation fights against the pressure from the shower head.

He tells you all about the possible new hire, her name being Tina and how he feels like she’ll be the one to keep Chicagoland on their toes and in shape. He’s got that spark in his eye when he talks about her, finding a connection and in hopes that she will turn up when she’s ready but he has no doubt that she will.

“Maybe you can call her for backup if you ever come face to face with string bean nose Lorraine.” Mikey jokes over the water.

You scoff, “if the garbage can actually hit me, Lorraine just might need to tap Tina in for her to get me off her ass!”

Mikey chuckles, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead before you tuck your head underneath his chin. If you could’ve, you would have held onto him for eternity.

But…that’s not the way life played out in later episodes.

When Tuesday’s hit, sometimes it still feels like he’s here around your condo trying to scare the shit out of your cat, when he’s the one who’s actually terrified of him. And when you catch yourself staring at Lorraine’s nose a little too long during your small morning chats before you’re both leaving for work—that’s right—you two are now cordial enough to have civilized conversations, and yes you had Michael Berzatto to thank for that.

For constantly seeing the best in everybody, even crazy gardening neighbors who loved composting and believing their son could do no wrong.

Who only knows what Mikey’s conversation with that kid was like. You had a feeling that Richie knew, there was a slim chance that Richie was his ride along when you were off at work or someplace else but Richie would always be Mikey’s keeper.

And you were fine with that, as long as you never saw a telescope again.

ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

SUMMER ‘24 PROMPTS FIN. (For now!)

[sweetshuga]

Roommates ✧ CS [Origin]

𓆩 Sweetshuga Original - Roommates 𓆪

Contains⚠︎ Suggestive remarks!, strong language!, pet names, mentions of taking pictures without permission + taking intimate belongings, mentions of masturbation, etc.

Word count. 3.3k (3367)

Notes. English is not my first language! Au! (Matt and Nick go to different universities so they won’t be apart of the storyline!)

[The fanfic of the same named blurb series -> Roommates]

Starting university was exciting, you got to live alone—well, not quite alone, you had a roommate. The dormitory rooms were fairly big so the dorm manager and uni employees, along with the majority of the students, decided to arrange everyone into pairs. Though, most of the pairs were same sex—to avoid any sexual activities, or so they said.

It was a surprise when you arrived at the dormitory and went to your assigned room – a key and your luggage in hand – and was met with a guy with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes when you opened the door. He looked equally surprised to see you, probably thought his new roommate would be a guy.

Sitting up straighter on his bed as he awkwardly shifted on it, "uh... so, roommate?" You nodded, slowly closing the door behind you and walking over to the other side of the room to sit down on the bed there. "Should we, uh, call the dorm manager or sum’?" he said as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost nervous.

"Yeah... we probably should," he nodded and took his phone from the bed beside him and called whoever was in charge of the dormitory. A few rings later, an elderly woman’s voice answered the call and the guy started to talk, occasionally glancing at you.

You took in the room while he made the phone call. One single bed on each side of the room, a small sofa and a study desk with a chair were the furnitures the dormitory provided. His suitcase and bags were perched beside his bed, along with a small box.

You suddenly felt curious, staring at the box and wondering what was inside before shaking your head slightly to clear your thoughts. After all, you didn’t want to come off as a creep by staring at his things so intently like that.

"What?" your attention averted to him when you heard the surprised tone. He glanced at you again and motioned you to come over to him. You looked at him in confusion, but stood up and walked over to him anyway, sensing it was something important. "Yeah? What’s up?" he just handed you the phone and you took it and put it up to your ear, confused.

"Umm, ma’am?" the woman sighed before speaking in an apologetic tone. "I apologize for the confusion and awkwardness, but unfortunately, we had so many students in the dormitory this year that it had become full. We couldn’t skip over someone on the list only because of their gender you see."

The woman paused before continuing in a more calmer tone, "but if you feel uncomfortable and insist on changing roommates, we can arrange you into the new dormitory. The downside of it, however, is that the new dormitory’s construction won’t be finished until February." You frowned, it’s August now so six months until the new dormitory is available? You couldn’t wait that long.

Sighing as you looked at the guy—only to have him staring back at you. "Sorry, is it okay if we call back after talking?" you asked, "of course, I’ll be available until evening so you two could come by my office to talk more if you want so." You muttered a "thank you" before ending the call.

Taking the phone away from your ear before you approached the guy to give him his phone back, accidentally grazing his fingers with yours and feeling a shiver down your spine. "So uh, you heard that too I suppose?" he spoke, idly fidgeting with his phone. "Yeah... Uh, you okay with this arrangement? ’cause I can’t really wait until February."

He seemed a bit taken aback by your suggestion, but finally spoke a few moments later. "Yeah, neither can I, it’s fine with me I guess..." his voice trailed off as he looked away, continuing in a quieter tone, "as long as you don’t feel uncomfortable sharing a room with a guy."

You couldn’t help the tugging at the corners of your lips at his consideration. "I’m alright with it," his eyes widened slightly, looking mildly surprised at your agreement, but nodded nonetheless. "Well, I’ll call her back, to y’know tell her about the agreement."

He called the person in charge again and explained our conversation to her, "yeah, thanks, that would be great, yeah, okay, yeah, yeah, have a good afternoon ma’am." You looked at him expectantly, "well, what did she say?" He looked at you for a few seconds, and you could’ve sworn his eyes raked your body up and down, but you chalked it up to your imagination.

"She said this’ll be an expectation and we should probably make ground rules, just in case or sum’," you nodded, seeing it was most likely necessary. "Oh and since we had such a ”disadvantage”, she offered us both discounts on campus lunch."

Your eyebrows shot up, a smirk creeping on your face in amusement, "yeah? Did you take it?" The guy chuckled, "of course, discount for a month, basically free food for a month, who wouldn’t take such an offer?"

You laughed softly, "Yeah, that I can’t argue with." Your laughter slowly ceased as you plopped on your own bed, feeling more relaxed and open after that little laughing fit. "So, Mr. Roommate, what’s your name?" The guy smiled, "the name’s Chris, yours?"

You told him your name, "pretty name," he commented, making your heart thump, but it probably didn’t mean anything, just a small compliment. He hummed, "mm, so, about the ground rules," you leaned forward slightly and nodded. "Yeah, probably should make ’em now."

He took out a notebook and a pen from his bag. Starting to scribble something on the notebook before looking up from it and at you. "Let’s start with something simple like... Don’t touch each other’s belongings without their approval or sum’," you nodded, "yeah, fair enough."

"Oh, and don’t disturb— no, don’t invade each other’s privacy, it goes hand in hand with the first one." He nodded and wrote it down, "alright, think it’s looking pretty neat, wanna take a look?" You stood up and walked over to his bed, leaning down to look at the list.

" 1. Do not fall for each other.

2. Do not invade each other's privacy.

3. Do not touch each other's belongings.

4. Don't invite guests over after dark.

5. Respect each other's boundaries.

6. Do not lie to each other.

7. Clean up after yourself. "

Your gaze skimped over the rules, and an amused chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at the first rule again, "Was the first one really necessary?" Chris grinned, "of course it was necessary, can’t have romance in the dorm, can we?" He said in faux seriousness until a wide grin formed on his face.

You couldn’t help but copy his grin, it was Infectious and awfully cute— no, no, let’s not think like that. You cleared your throat and spoke, trying to distract yourself from the bubbling thoughts, "so, what uh, you got a girlfriend?" You immediately pressed your lips in a thin line, eyes widening as you realized what you just asked.

Chris blinked and stared at you for a bit before opening his mouth to say, "uh, no, I don’t... why? You interested?" He teased, a chuckle escaping his lips as he saw your stunned expression. Your face flushed, not expecting him to tease you like that, stammering as you tried to backpedal. "No? That, I don’t know why I asked that, just ignore it."

As you two talked, you felt a shift in the mood. The awkwardness from before was replaced by a more familiar and relaxed atmosphere, and it made you feel all fuzzy inside. The way he laughed and smiled just seemed to make your heart beat a tad bit faster. You couldn’t possibly be falling for him already, could you?

Life with Chris as your roommate was nothing short of shits and giggles. He was a fun guy, and really good looking to boot. You couldn’t help yourself at times, staring at his profile while he was focused on assignments or when he was sleeping.

Even you knew it could come off as creepy, but what could you do otherwise? You had the privilege to see him every day, it wasn’t a surprise you took it to your advantage. He seemed oblivious to the attention you were giving him and it made you all the more encouraged to keep looking at him when he wasn’t looking.

Your intentions were pure—you just liked looking at him.

𓆩♡𓆪

Chris was the type to go out a lot. He had many friends, after all. "A social butterfly" some would say, and he would often be seen in parties. He wasn’t really a fratboy, but close enough for some to refer to him, jokingly, as one. He would laugh and joke about it as well, but you could tell he would get uncomfortable sometimes.

One day, you just couldn’t stop yourself from asking about it and he blasély replied with "Yeah, ’s just, most fratboys here are assholes, ’nd sometimes it just feels more like an insult than whatever they meant it as y’know?"

That made you like him more. It was bare minimum, but you kinda thought he was just another one of those fraternity guys with hollow words and dick brains. You felt a bit stupid for judging him based on his demeanor and looks, but it wasn’t an impossible scenario since he had many girls at his feet.

You were laying on your bed, phone in hand and earphones plugged in, when Chris called out to you. Your attention shifted to him and your eyes immediately widened. He had a towel around his waist and nothing else, his hair damp and small water droplets dripping down his collarbone and chest.

"W-what?" You dumbly asked, sitting up on your bed. "Have you seen my navy briefs?" He repeated himself, walking closer to your bed for some reason. "No, I haven’t? Also, wear some clothes will you?" You barely kept yourself from stammering and freaking out at the realization that he literally had nothing under his towel.

You looked away, a creep of pink dusting your cheeks as you cleared your throat, "it’s probably in your drawer," he sighed, "yeah, Sherlock, already checked it and it wasn’t there, that’s why I’m asking you," you rolled your eyes, "as if I’ve seen it."

"Whatever, kid, guess I’ll just wear something else." He mumbled as he walked back out to the semi-private bathroom, shared between you and two others. You breathed a sigh of relief as you slumped back onto your bed, "crazy, he’s crazy, absolutely nuts."

You mentally scolded yourself for getting horny over your roommate, biting your lips as you waited for him to come out of the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A shaky exhale came out of your mouth when you saw him enter the room again, now clad in a black tank top and blue flannel pj pants.

You quickly stood up from your bed and stormed out, making a lame excuse about having a stomach ache. Once inside the bathroom, you made sure to lock the door and closed the toilet seat and sat on it. With uneven breaths, you started to touch yourself; your thoughts plagued by Chris.

𓆩♡𓆪

The dynamic between you two didn’t change, but you had started to develop feelings for him—romantic feelings. You tried to reason with yourself, telling yourself that he was good-looking and you felt a slight attraction towards him because of that but nothing deeper than that. You knew it was just a lie.

It had been quite a bit since you two started to share a room. Your 6th month sharing a room, to be specific, so it wasn’t unexpected when he suggested a small celebration. Anniversary of some kind, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited. You were thrilled.

You had already broken most of the rules – if not all – unbeknownst to Chris. There was only one that you hadn’t broken, yet. The last rule: Clean up after yourself. The reason you hadn’t broken it yet was because you were a bit of a clean freak, always making sure everything was in place and tidy.

Chris seemed to respect your will to keep things tidy and cleaned after himself as well. His side of the room was messier, yes, but he made sure to always keep it as clean as he could. You appreciated his efforts, but you couldn’t help getting drawn to his stuff. That mysterious box that he seemed adamant about hiding from you.

Your curiosity got the best of you and you approached his bed one day while he was gone getting snacks for a movie night for your anniversary. "It’s supposed to be somewhere under his bed," you mumbled to yourself as you crouched down, looking down at his bed before your gaze landed on the medium sized black box.

"Bingo," you chuckled as you pulled it out from under the bed, "I shouldn’t be doing this... but a small peek won’t hurt, right? I mean it’s not like I’m taking anything, just a look." You reasoned with yourself, slowly opening the box, your heart pounding against your ribcage in anticipation.

You almost dropped the box when you saw what was inside—various panties and lingerie along with polaroids were inside it. Polaroids of you, and your lingerie and panties. You put the box on his bed, looking at it in disbelief for a moment before finally regaining your ability to think.

Tentatively reaching out to take one of the polaroids for further inspection, you noticed most of them were of you sleeping and some when you weren’t looking. A chill ran down your spine, "what the fuck?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the box, an uneasy feeling creeped up your body, but there was a strange excitement mingling with it.

You felt a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that he was obsessed with you, so much so that he had a box full of your pictures and belongings, but you tried to push away the odd feelings. "This is supposed to be creepy, hell, scary even... but why do I feel this way?" You thought out loud, looking at the box.

𓆩♡𓆪

Chris arrived back at the dormitory with two bags of snacks and drinks. A small smile on his face as he made his way to your shared dorm room. As he opened the door, he was met with a mess. Your lingerie and panties adorned his neatly made bed. The polaroids of you scattered all over the floor.

His eyes slowly widened as his brain acknowledged the scene before him. The bags threatened to escape his grasp as panic rose within him, and a series of panicked no’s rushed out like a waterfall as he entered the dorm room. Chris quickly put the bags on the study desk before he closed the door.

His breathing ragged as he gathered up the pictures and he suddenly froze, a hitch in his breath when he saw the note attached to one of the polaroids. "I know." What did you mean by that? His brain fogged as it tried to make sense of it. "Fuck, what does she... Where is she?" He mumbled to himself, fumbling with his phone before dialing your number with shaky hands.

Your phone rang on your bed, his head snapping towards the direction and only now he noticed your abandoned phone—perched on top of a small box. His curiosity grew as he hesitantly stood up and reached your bed. His hands shook as he took the box and opened it.

A gasp left his lips when he saw a small black vibrator along with a small note beside it. "Open me" written on it in neat handwriting. He gulped thickly before opening the note, and it reads as follows: "What a surprise huh? Well, here’s a little surprise for you:)" Just as he finished reading it, the dorm room door opened.

"Oh, you’re back already?" Chris blinked as he looked at you, taken aback by your casual demeanor. "Hm? Why are you looking at me like that?" He barely kept himself from stammering as he spoke, "why...? I mean, why aren’t you creeped out? I thought you would’ve already gone to the dorm manager, or worse, reported this to the police."

You shrugged, a small smirk playing on your lips as you closed the door behind yourself. Sauntering further into the room before plopping on your bed, looking up at him and chuckling as he stared at you like you were absolutely nuts. "What? You really thought I would give my precious roomie to the police?"

He hesitated, not knowing what to say – making you chuckle more. "Oh c’mon Chris, I can’t believe you thought that little of me," you teased, making him shift awkwardly on his feet, "yeah—no, I don’t think lowly of you, it’s just... I don’t know, I mean, you would— hold on." He paused, unable to make a coherent sentence.

He gasped, his body stiffening when you suddenly pulled him on top of yourself. Propping himself on his forearms as he looked at you with wide eyes, searching your face and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He could hear the pounding even in his ears, almost deafening.

"What—what are you doing?" He said shakily, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried his best to compose himself–only to fail miserably. His breathing was uneven – heavy – and his gaze darted down to your lips subconsciously every few seconds, snapping back up to your eyes to search them.

You were an absolute vision in his eyes, the girl of his dreams. It wasn’t a surprise for him when his body reacted to your proximity, his dick hardening and straining against his pants. He cursed at himself internally, wanting to kick himself in the nuts for his body’s betrayal in such a compromising position.

With the angle you were in under him, you could clearly feel his stiff bulge and a grin plastered on your lips. Chris groaned when he saw that damned teasing grin, biting his lips slightly and briefly closing his eyes as he tried to control himself. Only for his eyes to snap open and jaw drop a few moments later due to your hands fumbling with his belt.

"Wait, you don’t, I mean, are you sure?" He stammered, uncharacteristically nervous as he gently held your wrist—stopping any further movement. "I am, I wouldn’t be here otherwise," you chuckled, "if I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have you on top of me and my hand trying to unbuckle your belt."

With your reassurance, his grip loosened just enough for you to resume what you were doing. You unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, eliciting a hiss from Chris when your fingers grazed his aching length through his boxers. Smirking as you slowly teased him with your fingertips, not quite giving him what he wanted, but enough for him to buck his hips.

"Please," he whispered, his voice strained as he pleaded, "please, ma, don’t tease me." You saw no need for further teasing at his plea and decided to give him what he craved for—your touch. Gently pulling his boxers down seemed to make him shiver in anticipation, and your hand tentatively wrapping around his hefty length made him gasp softly.

His hips bucked shallowly, fucking your fist as he whimpered and moaned into the crook of your neck. Every noise from him and the squelching of his cock sliding through your hand made you grow wetter by the second. "Mm... Such pretty noises," you cooed, making him whimper.

Satisfaction and desire surged through your body as you relished in the control you have over him; the way he was wrapped around your little finger already. You smiled to yourself as you continued to help him jerk off, occasionally whispering praises and sweet nothings to him, and earning low moans and whimpers from Chris.

To be continued... 𓆩♡𓆪

© sweetshuga

[storiesfromafan]

He's So Annoying - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: honestly, not sure where this came from. But am not mad about it 😂 maybe a Part Two?

Warning/s: mention of hooking up, some description of female receiving oral 😅

Prompt/s: “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist" and “My tongue still remembers the way you taste"

Mondays, the one time every student – that weren’t lovers of schooling – would agree to hate the start of a new week. You cursed the day, and with it the next work load to come with it. Even though you were a Ravenclaw, and had a decent brain, you still detested learning and doing it in a classroom setting. Not because of the subjects or the teachers. But rather the students in your classes. Particularly a set of Slytherin's.

Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle.

The three Slytherin Princes, as labelled by the female masses of Hogwarts, were always a nightmare. Especially Mattheo. Who enjoyed tormenting you personally, though your girl friends say he’s flirting with you. Either way, you hated it and him. You always did your best to put as much distance between you both. Yet, he just about always works his magic to sit next to you or behind you. And from there he would talk to you or write you notes. Always saying/writing how pretty you were, how he’d like to take you for a butterbeer, etc. You never responded to him, always leaving him hanging. Which seemed to just make him more persistent.

Yet this morning Mattheo had kept his distance in your first class of the day, and then in your second class too. But just when you get your hopes up that he finally had moved on, in your third class – Potions – that Slytherin pretty boy reared his brunette curly head.

You were at your potion station, unpacking your parchment, quill and text book, when that all to familiar presences slid next to you. You stiffened, the smell of his aftershave and cigarettes hitting your nostrils. Silently you cursed whoever was listening, cursing them for not keeping the brunette menace away from you.

“Just my luck, you don’t have a potions partner today" Mattheo commented, tone laced with a giddiness that made you roll your eyes.

“I do have a partner, Abby" you retorted, continuing to set yourself up for the class.

He chuckled. “Oh I think Abby will be just fine with someone else as their partner" countered Mattheo.

You shot him a glare. “I’d rather her as my partner, thanks. So, you can move on before I-”

Unfortunately for you, that was the moment Professor Snape came rushing into the room. The man practically glided across the room, demanding everyone to take to their stations, before coming to stand at the front of the room. His unnerving presences, his eyes roaming over every students to make sure they were at their stations. Once pleased, he turned to the board behind him and began to inform the class of today’s lesson.

Mattheo chuckled as he leaned over to you, “guess you’re stuck with me".

And with that he moved back to his side. Seeming to be listening to Snape drone on about some potion you’d be learning about this week, along with its counter parts. Yet you didn’t listen, you were focused on the menace next to you. How he smiled sweetly, after noticing the deadly look you were giving him. He was enjoying how worked up you were.

After Snape had addressed the class, he assigned a page in your textbooks for you all to read over and take notes. Of course Mattheo had ‘forgotten’ his textbook, and just moved closer to share yours. Even after you told him that there were spares up in the back cupboard. He waved you off, saying it was easier to just share the textbook. Feeling your anger rise, you chose to keep yourself in check. Rather then fly off and loose your house any points and get detention. Something Snape was fond of handing out as punishment for disrupting his classroom.

It was during this rather silent moment of study and note taking that Mattheo looked around. Making sure no one was looking or listening, though he didn’t really care. But he knew you would care. Seeing that no one was paying him or you both any mind, he leant closer to you. His hot breath hitting your ear.

“You know (Y/N/N), I dreamt of you last night...” he whispered, pausing to see how your eye twitched at his intrusion on your peace and space. “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist”.

Your hand, which had been writing, halted at his words. Your breath catching in your chest.

Mattheo smirked. “Or should I say a memory from Saturday night?”

Now you shot him a dark glare, before you looked around you both, making sure no one was listening in. “I-I don't know what you’re talking about" you lied. You knew all too well.

Mattheo's smirk grew at your glare and words. This was the loveliest thing to happen today. Teasing you about your dalliance at a Slytherin house party. Something you had chewed him out over, and said to never speak of. And yet here he was, speaking about it. Because it had been all he could think about. Recalling the way you’d kissed. How you felt in his hands. The spark between you both that ignited and lead to a night that couldn’t be forgotten. Though, you had wanted to put it behind you, hoped to put behind you.

Yet every so often that door in the back of your mind would open. And spilling out would be that night, that encounter with Mattheo Riddle. Which had surprised you. For he had been slow and gentle, attentive and meeting your every need. The boy knew what he was doing, while you lacked his experience. Your glare slipped, as a red tinge your cheeks from the memories coming forth.

You felt a hand, his hand, brush your thigh under the table. Bringing you back to the present, and where you both currently were. You moved your leg from him, Mattheo's hand falling back to his side. And he laughed at how you were playing hard to get. Well in his mind you were.

He leant in once more, this time knowing what he was about to say had to be between you both. “My tongue still remembers the way you taste...” you could hear his tongue running over his lips.

A vision of Mattheo’s head lifting from between your legs, licking his lips after feasting on you, came to mind. The intimate memory making you feel embarrassed for letting him do such a thing to you. And yet, you shamelessly enjoyed it. Enjoyed how he had started by kissing your inner thighs, as his hands moved up to cup your breasts, a gentle squeeze as well. Before they roamed back down over your stomach and to grab your thighs.

You recall how he’d looked up to you, those dark devilish eyes taking you in before looking to his prize between your legs. How his hands opened your legs wider, along with it the lips of your sex. Mattheo leant in, hot breath fanning over you before moving in. His wicked tongue seeking out your bundle of nerves, and flicking over it a few times. The sensation from such a small movement had a tiny moan escaping your throat.

You shook your head. “Stop it” you hissed, resisting the urge to adjust yourself in your seat.

“You sure, love?” Teased Mattheo.

Just like you, he had been recalling that moment. Remembering how you tasted, how you moaned. How he drove you crazy before making you cum on his tongue. Which in turn, drove him crazy. The sexual chemistry between you two had been off the charts. But the moment you had looked at him, eyes blown out and mouth a gap, after he’d given you your first orgasm of the night, Mattheo knew he didn’t just want you. You had to be his.

“I’m not your love" you snapped, deciding to put some distance between you two by shuffling your stool away from him.

After that you went back to work, reading and taking notes. And then soon Snape began to talk again. As he went on, you continued to take notes. But every so often you would look out the corner of your eye at Mattheo. He was taking notes, only half assed ones. He looked more preoccupied with his thoughts. Which you found strange. The boy never contemplated anything, that you knew of. Nor had he ever dropped his advances so quickly. Shaking your head, you told yourself not to worry about him. He wasn’t your problem.

‘But do you want him to be...?’ You stupid subconscious questioned you.

No. No, you did not want Mattheo Riddle. Not in any way! What happened Saturday night was a stupid, drunk mistake.

‘And yet you enjoy the memory of it...’ it teased you.

You glared at your parchment, as you told yourself it was a mistake. Which didn’t deny your subconscious words. You hate to admit, but you did enjoy it. What he did and how he made you feel, it was something you knew you’d never get from any other male. You hate to admit but the sexual chemistry was there, the perfect mix between you both that had every nerve in your body singing.

Yet you couldn’t tell Mattheo that. It would only add to his big head. No, you would take this revelation and admission to the grave. You would not give Mattheo Riddle any power over you. It was a stupid, drunk mistake. And that was it. Done and dusted.

[sungiescheotluv]

am i the asshole? ⭑.ᐟ lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, meet not-so-cute turned cute, (excessive) swearing, crack (if you squint - or read any of my fics really 😭)

summary: things are looking up for you - a promotion at work propels you into a new, more extravagant apartment that has all you need and more. too bad you forget to look down.

notes: hi hi, i'm back with a new fic! it's been really fun to crank out all these fics in such a short amount of time :) i usually spend a stupid amount of hours mulling over word choice and reading too much into things, which i've tried to abandon with this blog and just write whatever inspires me and makes me laugh honestly. i'm not sure if this is funny for you guys, but i enjoyed the care-free time i had writing this and hope you enjoy it the same reading it! wishing you all the best and thank you, THANK YOU for all the love on my fics! it means so so much to me 🥹💗

also, this fic wouldn't exist this prompt list from @corvase so big big thank you to them! much love! <3

If there is one word to describe Jeno, it’s doting. 

Ever since the moment you two met, you’ve been living a life of luxury. Not necessarily in terms of monetary means (except for the very pretty promise ring Jeno got you a few months back), but in more valuable, sentimental places. Someone by your side that treasures the ground you walk on, someone that makes the effort whoever big or small, someone who’s totally and utterly obsessed with you. For so long, you thought you had your head in the clouds, imagining such a love as an abstract, fictional thing. Like it could never materialise beyond the limits of your mind and yet, there it is. Three years ago, the love you’d wished for on many stars, many birthday candles - right in front of you. 

You meet in a rather…unconventional way. Nothing shady or anything, but it’s a bit of a blunder in comparison with the wholesomeness of your relationship. You’d just moved into your new apartment building, your new promotion uplifting you as the future brims bright. You’d seen it in person before getting the keys and your jaw dropped every time. Admittedly, the office assisted with most of the expenses to keep you in close vicinity of the main building, explaining the lavish skyscraper of a building. Marble floors, polished elevators, key-pad locks. To you, someone who didn’t come from much, this was the high life. A merit your family let you know you deserved for all your efforts over the years, whether it was in academic ventures or familial affairs. Either way, as you are driving through the front gate, the security guard tipping his hat at you, you’re beaming with glee - nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, could ruin your day. 

Except this.

For someone so accommodating, you lacked understanding (and patience) for what you, in a flare of anger, called ‘stupidity.’ Unfortunately for you, this is one of those moments. Pulling up to your assigned parking space (underground, might you add), your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you. There’s a car in front of you making an awkward turn, almost as if they don’t know where they’re going. Maybe they’re new like you, you reason. Your understanding drains from there, as the car goes back and forth, turning its wheels and frankly, looking like a hot mess. You try not to be an asshole, because drivers deserve some grace, especially Learners judging by the large ‘L’ on the back of their car, but just as you’re about to offer some help, you squeal.

The learner attempts to manoeuvre out the tight space it’s wedged itself into, having to reverse generously due to the sheer size of the car and in doing so, it nearly rear-ends you. If you hadn’t had the sense to put more distance between the two of you, the front of your car would’ve been mangled. This time, you honk, a slam of the hand on the steering wheel as you yell, “The fuck are you doing!”

The driver offers an apologetic hand out their window, somehow managing to squeeze into the parking spot they’d been trying very hard to get into. As grateful as you are for the stupid ordeal to be over, a pout forms on your lips as you squint at the parking spot the driver’s parked into. 

Your parking spot.

You’re out of your car before your brain registers, the slam of the car door accompanying the echo of your loud voice as you say, “That’s my parking space.” 

The driver hoops out of their car, a large grey hoodie shrouding their face as they step into view. Under the fluorescent lights of the barren car park, the stranger reveals their face, shadows enveloping the sharp edges of his high cheekbones and jawline. You nearly lurch back, because what the hell? Why is the driver you’d nearly had an aneurysm over unbelievably hot? Handsome? Cute?

At this point, you’d throw a whole dictionary full of words to describe how attractive he is, his pink lips folding into an apologetic grin, bowing to you deeply. “Is your car ok? I’m so sorry. It’s my first time driving this big ole thing - it’s the only car I could fit all my belongings in.”

Then, you see it. Items, belongings cluttering the pick-up truck, and if you really look, you’re pretty sure a pillow’s obstructing his sight from his rearview mirror. 

You exhale, a wave of sympathy drowning the fires of your annoyance. “It's fine, thanks. Just a word of advice, you shouldn’t be driving with something blocking your rearview mirror.”

Why did you have to tell him this? If he's a learner, surely he 1) knew this and 2) had someone in the car with him.

Just then, the passenger front seat opens, another figure in an oversized black hoodie coming round the vehicle. Were they-?

“Jeno, you forgot your dog treats in the-” the passenger cuts themselves off at your presence, lowering their hood to reveal another handsome face. What is this? A traveling circus of hotties? How many more were hidden in there? “Oh, hottie alert.”

Instantly no. 

In the face of a man also sculpted by the Gods, with his big brown eyes and irresistible smile, you scowl. Maybe even vomit a little in your mouth because did he just say ‘hottie alert’ about you…in front of you? 

Nevermind you calling him that first.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” the stranger - Jeno, you’re assuming - looks even more embarrassed, shuffling to shield the glaring ogling his friend does. “He’s got no filter. No sense either, now that I think about it.”

“Since when did the samoyed become the owner?” you make out his friend say, in a headlock that he forces himself out of with a bite through Jeno’s sleeve. 

Samoyed? Owner?

The longer you watch their bickering, the more confused and honestly, more annoyed you grow. A promotion and new apartment, what is meant to be an upgrade from your previously cramped but friendly neighbourhood, only to find yourself caught in the middle of a quarrel. With some themes of petplay, too, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that you’ve got a long day ahead of you, and they’re prolonging it by snatching your parking space. 

“Sorry to interrupt but,” their heads turn at the sound of your voice, having the decency to look embarrassed as you continue. “You’re parked in my space. I’m D7. So, in case there’s been a mix-up-”

“Thing is, sweetie,” Jeno’s friend addresses you, the latter hanging his head in shame. “Unfortunately, someone’s parked in our sweet Jeno’s place. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, and your space was the only one avail-”

A car honk makes you jump, your head on a swivel, mortified to find a car behind yours, luckily trying to exit the underground space.

Now you look like the asshole.

You huff, exhausted already. “I’m gonna let this car through, and we’re going to solve this, alright?” 

They both nod, the enthusiasm that Jeno nods with earning a fond smile from his friend, Jeno’s sleazy partner ruffling his head of long black hair.

In the end, when you’ve circled back, the person parked in Jeno’s space comes out and profusely apologizes for the inconvenience, citing an emergency they had to take care of and since Jeno’s space was free and close to the building, they snagged it. So, you get your parking space back, a small victory. Jeno’s friend, who notices you’re moving in too - Jaemin is his name - offers his help, to which you politely deny, catching the pure apologetic nature in Jeno’s shiny eyes. 

Minor blunder. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, nothing worth losing your mind over.

Except when you’ve managed to heave your first few belongings to your apartment, the door next to yours opens, Jaemin’s bright smile greeting you as he says, “Oh, I’m definitely coming over to yours more often.”

So, yeah. Not that romantic - your first meeting.

Heck, even your second and third meeting isn’t too great because on one exceptional morning where you’re running late, you collide into Jeno on your way out, your possessions and fingernail flying in the air. You’re lucky your nail-bed remains unscathed, but not so lucky the days following that when you’re walking in the open courtyard of your apartment building, out for some fresh air, time to decompress for the mounting work you’re quickly submerging in.

You’ve got your headphones on, noise-cancelling ones you got for Christmas - how nice. What isn’t nice is that you miss the yell behind you, and the strange texture you step onto. Your body freezes, nose twitching from a foul smell that wafts upwards and when you gaze down to your shoe, you find the worst. The absolute worst.

Shit. Huge, putrid clumps of shit.

It’s so shocking that you slip your headphone off down to your neck, deciding between screaming or crying. Your decision is cut off by a familiar voice, yet again so apologetic.

“I forgot her bags upstairs. I didn’t think anyone would…” Jeno cuts himself off, eyebrows pinched together like he may cry. “Can I-can I do anything for you? Wash your shoe? Scream? Disappear into oblivion?”

“All of the above.”

He chuckles, the furry friend he’s accompanied by nudging their wet snout against your hand, smiling at you like there are no thoughts behind their eyes. Your eyes flicker between the dog and Jeno, the white samoyed eerily similar to his owner.

Was this what Jaemin was referring to when you first met?

“Don’t worry about her, she’s harmless,” he comments, the ghost of a grin appearing against his face. “Except when she takes a dump.”

You have to laugh. Otherwise you’ll cry. “Too soon?”

“No, no - I needed that actually,” you sigh after your fit of chuckles. “Today’s been…well, shit.”

“You don’t say,” Jeno muses, handing over the leash his dog is on. “Do you mind?”

You take it without a word, securing his furry friend as he slips off one of his shoes, bending down near the scene of the crime. Without a peep, he cleans around as best as he can, undoing your shoe and casting it aside, slipping his one on your foot.

“Well, I can’t scream because it’s non social hours,” he leads, wrapping your shoe in one of the bags. “And as much as I’d love to disappear into oblivion, I’ve got a shoe to wash.”

He then hesitates, parts his lips like he wants to say something. There’s something adorable about his loss for words, how his gaze is downturned, flicking side to side in indecision. God, all these awful run-ins robbed you of remembering how cute he is. 

“Did you want to come back to mine?” he finally asks, meeting your eyes. “So, we don’t have to drop each other’s shoes off like some fairytale.” 

“It is almost midnight,” your quick wit earns a chuckle from him, eyes moon crescent and you can’t believe your own. How tragically pitiful and handsome he is. “Why not? I’ve got no ball to be at.”

So, instead of spending your night wallowing in the darkness of your apartment, you’re next door, laughing at the failed attempts of Jaemin’s ‘flirting’ Jeno tells you with his samoyed, Ari, cuddled into your side. Once your shoe dries, that’s when you say you’ll leave - what you infamously tell yourself, picking up the bone-dry shoe hours later, belly full of Jeno’s special bowl of noodles and heart full of infatuation for your neighbour. 

Again, not so romantic. But your following run-ins prove to be a turning point, the close relationship you develop unveiling a world of romance you thought were reserved only for movies and books. Somewhere along the line, your elevator talks stretch into rambling dinner dates, rotating between your place and his depending on the meal since Ari once stole a whole steak off your plate once. You take Ari on your nightly walks Jeno accompanies you for, you meet his friends and he meets yours. You make space for each other, carving out time to spend binging the latest season of your favourite dating show or over a bowl of kimchi stew you reward him with for getting the spider out your apartment. 

It’s like your puzzle pieces come together, initially ill-matched but now, the perfect fit for one another. And even if Jaemin jokes you were a bit ‘rough around the edges’ (code for an asshole) when you’d first met, Jeno kisses the denial out of you, making sure you know how much better his (and Ari’s) life is with you in it.