#names are so fake and false anyway

[astrobei]

dearest suni i have a question for you. well two and they are both based in curiosity. a) what is ur level of confidence in byler endgame realistically (im like 50/50 on a good day tbh) and b) how do u phonetically pronounce ur name bc i realized it could go a couple ways and i want to make sure im mentally pronouncing it right!

ok thats all have a good day/night/year <3

hi ella !! both excellent questions !!

a) as for byler endgame i am. hm. i have been severely let down in the past so i am by nature a little cynical but. more than them not getting together my worst fear is that it’ll be some weird open ended left unsaid thing/they confess in the last couple scenes of s5 with no kiss no established byler moments ☹️ not too get too Analytical or anything but i think that having mike reject will would be such a disservice to his character and his growth throughout the series because it would end with will heartbroken and in pain AGAIN. this entire show has just been about will being put through the fucking wringer and i truly do think the only way to satisfyingly sum up his arc would be to let him have the boy !! let him have his happy ending !! they 100% didn’t have to make it mike that he was in love with bc having him struggle with his sexuality alone would have been very fitting in the story and they could’ve written a second love interest in like vickie, but they made it mike for a reason !! especially w no new characters being introduced in s5!! idk i am, like most people, a little apprehensive at times but i genuinely can’t think of a halfway decent ending where they don’t end up together especially with so many parallels to other couples in the show 🥳🥳🥳 (🤞)

b) suni is just the first half of my Real Name which is pronounced soo-knee ! but i also go by sunny when i give my name at like. starbucks and stuff so if that’s how u were pronouncing it u would technically Not Be Incorrect :^)

have a good day/night/year to u too ella thank u for the wonderful conversation 😙

[mbat]

does taleblr ever remember. the jennys

they only existed for like one episode i think but i remember them and how they somehow chose the best possible player models for them and i still hate how good a choice those playermodels were

i have no idea what that episode was called or even about so its a lost cause to find unless i go crawling through the channel lol

[blackvahana]

you ever just see an alternate version of your life flash before your eyes though.... Im so glad im getting into this now. Im so glad lull didnt let me near kos lmfao because like. im sitting here... fully ready to be dissected myself and to dissect and experiment with these things and im. oh boy! getting glimpses like alternate universe memories of having awoken this in front of him and with him and being. absolutely used. and dissected. and my body broken up and given out like bread at communion. i absolutely can see the ultimate timeline where he convinces me im nothing but Kos and its not a mask but my reality and then he just. does what he wants with my body because Secret Broken + he'd have free reign to pull the instincts i connect to her of. communion and self-death and whatnot

and im not even exaggerating. that absolutely would be where it was going. hes done so much fucked up shit to my astral body, he refused to take no as an answer to having a kid with me, my body was just to be eaten and uh. yeah. it was already a fucked up 5 years lmfao

see. emphasis on "fully ready". full like a full belly. like the full moon. like a full field ready to be harvested. ive grown into myself now, theres a huge difference between being the whale that falls on purpose to feed the populace and one hunted. and i get to experiment now because. the moon is ripe. the sun is ripe. the ocean is pregnant. theres peace in the salt in the air

[6gumi]

scandalous!

synopsis ﹒bllk men reassuring you that all those useless false scandals and fake news online are false ! ( in a rather . . peculiar way than normal reassurance . . <3 )

pairings﹒ michael kaiser, itoshi sae, oliver aiku x f!reader

cw ﹒nsfw MDNI. unedited ( mistakes might be present ) 、 blowie ( oliver aiku ) 、dirty talk 、riding ( michael kaiser ) 、small titplay ( itoshi sae ) 、mentions of cheating but it doesn’t acc happen, promise ! 、v4ginal fingering ( itoshi sae ) 、use of feminine terms ( girl, gf (?) etc) 、 more tba !

note ﹒hello every1 ! ! :,3 wrote this while working on my art project lol ! ! ! first bllk work i believe ? ? i hope there isn’t too many mistakes in this one i’m very very sleepy trying 2 make my art look nice . . :,3 | reblogs r highly appreciated, feel free 2 send me an ask ! — millie ♡

୨୧ 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

“come on, mein liebling . . is that really what you’re worried about? i assure you . . these pathetic scandals aren’t true anyways.” with a firm grasp on your hip, he guided you on his cock with such elegance and ease, wanting to fuck all worrying emotions lingering beneath that pretty face of yours. “speak to me, liebling. do you seriously believe all of those rumours going around about me? about us?” his voice was addictive . . your head was completely empty . . filled with nothing but his damn voice. even so, these stupid rumours and scandals . . . as reassuring as he is, you can’t help but think maybe there’s some truth behind those rumours.

sweat glistened his well-fit body and yours, mingling the intoxicating fragrances within the air. squeezing your breasts in his hands with a lick of his lips, his fingers grazed down your spine, grunting at his own sharp and desperate thrusts. you rode him with the same amount of desperation and arousal he had. your passion filled him with both satisfaction and hope . . hope that you believed you were his only, utterly dependent and devoted to you. the blonde’s fingers dug into your soft flesh as every movement brought you both closer into harmony, each groan echoed against the walls of your shared bedroom. “that’s it . . .” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breathing ragged from exertion. "ride me hard, beautiful.”

your face contorted in pleasure as you slammed yourself down against his cock, feeling the tip kiss your sweet-spots as you struggle to speak up, the mere feeling of his cock was enough to send you to heaven itself ! just then, your mouth opened to speak. “i—it’s not impossible,” you murmured, “what if you’re lying to me . .” “oh baby . . . do you really think i’m not telling the truth?” kaiser’s face grew serious, snapping his hips upwards against your pussy. he relished the feel of your warm body against his, wanting to fuck those precious thoughts out of you. he was telling the truth, those stupid articles . . were only trying to ruin his image. his large hands gripped your hips tighter, his nails practically digging into your skin with a sense of desperation . . wanting to prove himself to you.

“mein liebling . . . seriously. i’m telling the truth. i’m telling the truth when i say this pussy is mine and mine only. and i’m definitely telling the truth when i say this cock is yours to fuck yourself dumb on.”

“ . . you, mein blume . . . have nothing to worry about. my cock belongs to you.”

୨୧ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

“i mean it, [name].” sae whispered against your ear, sending streams of electricity through your spine. his renewed determination to reassure you became his goal for the day, pressing his nose against your neck again, inhaling the scent of your fragrance. he had you seated on his lap, his hardness pressing close against your ass . . . trying his best to hold it in when the time comes. his fingers darted out again, swirling around the sensitive nub. “y—you don’t mean it . .” you protested, which only made things more harder for sae. he hated when you doubt his words, his movements growing more confident and skilled with each passing moment . . mind focused solely on pleasing his pretty girlfriend who was all worried about these articles that weren’t even true.

“i do mean it.” your boyfriend’s heart pounded in his chest, free hand reaching out to touch your breasts. his fingers brushed against your nipples, making them harder than steel. "hm. what can i do to make you believe me?” he grips your hips, pulling you towards him, erection straining against his shorts as he struggled the urges to fuck himself balls deep into your pussy. “those articles aren’t always true, angel-face. i mean it. i’m telling the truth, okay?”

grinding his cock against your lower back, he pushed another finger inside. your walls trembled, gripping his digits with pure vigour, you could almost feel his cock throb ! “mmh.. but the article . . .” your whimpers were music to his ears, pleasure dancing across your face, replacing the looks of uncertainty and concern. an absurd wave of protectiveness washed over sae then— the idea that these people were making up false and uncouth claims and lies filled his heart with sick dissatisfaction. their declaration of his infidelity was another layer to his coldness, he hated all of them, he wanted you and you only . . . was that not obvious ?

“i know, angel, but they’re not true.” he whispered huskily, holding your heavy breasts steady. “fuck . . . you always say such pretty things," he murmured against their your damp hair, fingers lightly grazing down your labia as he thrusted them back in, wanting to make you cum and lose your mind completely. “please, you know those articles are just bullcrap trying to put our relationship at risk. but i’m not letting it happen.” there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he pulled out from within you, leaving behind an echo of fullness in your core.

“you know i love you, angel-face. is that in your head yet? or do i have to fuck it into you?”

୨୧ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

“oh fuck . . baby, you’re suckin’ me good.” oliver bit back a grunt, eyes drifting shut. he was supposed to be reassuring your pretty little head that he only had eyes for you, but it feels too fucking good. too tempting. he hoped and prayed you wouldn’t blame him later for wanting your mouth. the way your wet heat surrounds him sends him in a frenzy . . . your tongue swirling and dancing around was enough to drive him absolutely insane, he wanted to push your head down further onto his dick, thrust inside and give you all of him . . show you just how truthful he was being at this moment. “m—mmf . . listen baby, all those articles are just tryna’ ruin people’s images of me, of us. they ain’t real and will never be, kay?”

the sensation of your soft mouth enveloping him sends electricity straight to his body, wanting more of your mouth. desire raced through his veins, drowning out rational thought. your warm breath, soft moans . . he can hear all, feel every stroke of your tongue. your small sobs, and even those pretty tears. ohh . . . those tears. he loves them. gripping the armrest, fighting to maintain control. your precious tears streaming down your face . . . it only aroused him further, his dick twitching in your mouth.

you sniffled, trying your best to accommodate his size. “baby, i’m really telling the truth. all those cheating rumours . . . those pictures are photoshopped— ah fuck . . baby you gotta’ believe me.” oliver groaned loudly, mouth curling into a satisfied yet concerned smile as he watched his dick go in and out of your lips, his hips slowly moving on their own as he slammed himself against you, forcing you to take more of his cock. “i’m tellin’ ya, baby doll,” his voice rasped hoarsely in the air, swallowing a lump in his throat. “does my cock being in ya not prove anythin’? you’re the only one i imagine suckin’ me off so perfectly like this . .”

oliver couldn’t help but grin cheekily at the slurping he heard from you, “damn, you’re takin’ it all, baby. always knew ya were my girl . . never thought i’d end up with such a pretty girl like you . . don’t believe those dumb rumours, kay?” a low groan escaped your beloved boyfriend, hands running through your hair tenderly, guiding your movements until he could take it no longer. “just like that, darlin'. make me yours, again and again."

“can’t wait to be inside ya tonight. provin’ to you that i only want my dick to be inside this pussy.”

[riacte]

hermitcraft horror story staring false and ren in which it starts out as a fun silly haha world tour but after they pick up a bag at tango’s storage, they can’t find anyone— at least, anyone that can interact with them in some sort of meaningful way. hermits are afk, mysteriously run away, or turn mute. the world seems frozen in time— storages are empty, shops lack pricetags, creepers hide in doorways. no one talks to them. it’s like the world itself has stopped talking to them, the only sign of movement being the flicker on false’s multipass.

eventually things start getting Really Weird (weird even for their standards) so they hide in ren’s base and lock themselves in. the laika companion robot dog (that false gifted to ren) shows up for emotional support. something bad happens within the colony and they get separated, but they’re both able to navigate the colony (thanks to false’s multipass) and it’s a repeat of the house of nightmares lobby (aka. yelling out each other’s names repeatedly, except this time their voices bounce off empty corridors and echo eerily).

they find each other— or do they? BOOM imposter time (doctor who wild blue yonder style). false is instantly suspicious and keeps 10 blocks away from imposter ren (but she does this to the real ren anyway). ren is the complete opposite and goes omg false i found you :D let’s work this out together :DDD. imposter!ren desperately tries to convince the extremely paranoid false. meanwhile ren babbles to imposter!false who nods along. but false of course finds out the imposter is an imposter in a badass “the colonel calls me riza when we’re alone” way and instantly strikes. meanwhile our ren reveals he’s known the imposter false was fake from the start and was lulling her into a false sense of security so he could trap her (knowing he can’t beat her in pvp — this is also a reference to his demise 2 kill). false and ren reconcile. they also reconcile with the robot dog. and the space rats.

eventually they figure out a way to reset the server and turn it back normal with the power of twaddle and technobabble. the key ingredient is the macguffin— squirtiflora. and maybe chives. idk. anyways they twaddle their way back into reality because their back and forth twaddle feedback loop can break dimensions.

everything seems normal. they return the cursed bag to tango’s storage. they finally encounter a hermit (it does not matter who) and false and ren are too relieved to put on their salesman bit. it’s all smiles and giggles, the two leave, the hermit returns to their business. their smile fades. there’s an ominous pause.

false says bye to ren and returns to her base. the phantoms are still in their boats. maybe it’s a little quiet, or maybe it’s just the lack of ren.

unbeknownst to her, inside her pocket, her name on the multipass jolts. something flickers across the screen. then it powers off. her name is gone.

ren is cheerfully humming and making his way around his base and checking up on everything. but then something stops him in his tracks.

in sea of healthy plants, there is one dead plant— the first plant false created for him.

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 13- Ik the law baby ☕️

(Warning: This chapter includes details of bullying. No violence but mentions of harassment)

Dread.

Dread was all you could feel at this very moment. You have met up with Yanfei and Heizou to film the video explaining your side. It was your story to be told so why were you so nervous?

You felt a warm hand touch your shoulder.

It was Yanfei.

“Don’t be so nervous Y/n. We’ll be here throughout everything.” She reassured you.

The three of you sat down at a table. You in the middle, Yanfei to your right, and Heizou to your left. All three of you discussed what to say and when. As you go on with your story, they will present the printed evidence to the camera.

The cameraman begins rolling.

You clear your throat and begin to talk, “Hello everyone. I’m Y/n L/n and I’ve been recently tangled up in some controversy regarding my days in school. I would like to make this video addressing all the allegations and clearing my name. I hope this video also sheds light on bullying in schools and helps someone know they’re not alone.”

Yanfei and Heizou flip through their papers for the first topic.

You talk again, “During my junior year I rejected someone named Dottore. I simply didn’t have time to date and because of it, he got upset. I have screenshots of when it first happened and how his friendgroup would begin to attack me online. This is all the evidence I have compiled throughout.”

Heizou held up DM’s from various people calling you fake and a liar.

“I was so confused on why his group would attack me like this as I never had an encounter with them in the first place. I only talked to Dottore on a few occasions. His friend group liked to call themselves The Fatui and the grade would eventually call them that too. I have no idea where the name originated from but they were extremely popular and basically were friends with everyone.” You add.

You pause for a moment as the memories of the torment they caused you start pouring in.

This didn’t stop you and you speak once again, “The harassment didn’t stop online. It continued during school. I have videos and audio recordings of them making gestures to me and yelling out profanities. They said they were trolling me, but is it really trolling if it goes on till we graduated?”

Yanfei begins to play an audio recording of voices from various people. Both the men and the women of the group making noises at you and yelling threats at you.

The audio recording stops.

“Anyways, that’s what I had to deal with my entire junior year. Now you may be asking, why didn’t nobody stop them? That’s the same question I asked myself the entire time. The group spread false rumors against me saying I slept with many people and how easy I am. I never had a boyfriend nor engaged in any sexual activity with anyone. However, everyone believed them and half the grade was against me. I had my friend’s support but everyone clowned anyone who was associated with me. It really felt like I had nobody.”

Heizou then holds up a series screenshots of a group chat that you were added to.

“Let’s move onto this group chat that I was added to by them. They used this group chat to tease and curse at me. If I were to leave or ignore them, they would add me back and harass me even more. One of the girls in the group, Columbina, would be the one to harass me in the group chat the most. Probably wanted to look good in front of the guys I don’t know.”

Yanfei then holds up papers of [redacted] individuals pleading with you to go tell the school.

“These are my friends who wanted to report the group to the school. Their names are redacted since I don’t want their information getting leaked. The reason why I didn’t report the group is because it would get much worse. Think about it, they would get suspended sure but what happens when they get out of suspension? They’re going to continue and possibly do worse things. If some of you are wondering if I ever stood up for myself. I did. I’m not going to let people walk all over me. However, just because I stand up for myself, doesn’t mean they’re going to stop. They would still continue.”

You take a sip of water before carrying on. You’ve been talking for so long you didn’t realize how dry your throat had became.

“The summer came around and I didn’t have to see them nor hear from them. However, they made sure that I knew they weren’t done with me. If I were to get invited to a party, they would make the host uninvite me or just tell people not to invite me at all. This affected me the most when they prevented me from going to my friend’s birthday party. I’m still upset about it to this day.”

Heizou holds up another series of screenshots of The Fatui threatening people to not invite you.

“Senior year came and the harassment died down a tiny bit. They would still tease me but I think they got tired of it by senior year as they had officially drained any spark I had left. They got what they wanted, the grade didn’t like me and I had a few friends left. I was so thankful to finally be able to graduate but it was short lived as they have now tried to ruin my career.”

You felt your throat close up again and you drink more water. It was never easy talking about your experiences, especially in front of a camera.

You continue again, “I have found out that the account was created by that group through investigations.”

Yanfei holds up the last document of Pantalone and Scaramouche’s conversation. The conversation where Pantalone admitted everything.

Scaramouche’s name is redacted for obvious reasons.

“The person who talked to Pantalone and the person who sent me these screenshots would like to remain anonymous. If you are both seeing this, I would like to give my upmost gratitude. You know who you are and I seriously can’t thank you enough.”

You then look straight into the camera, almost as if you were talking to The Fatui directly.

“To the group who made my high school experience a living hell, I hope you like the lawsuit coming to you in the mail. Have fun explaining to your parents why you’re getting charged with defamation and harassment.”

The video wraps up and it feels like you can finally breathe again.

A weight is lifted from your shoulders and you feel the best you have felt in a while.

The video gets posted shortly.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Written chapter!! I wasn’t planning on making this written but I also wanted to make it detailed. The bully arc is finally done so now I can move onto the other things I planned 🥰

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @veekoko @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56

[bookyeom]

pairing: dino x reader word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, alcohol, kissing and the barest of suggestive content (it’s hardly there, but it’s insinuated) 

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

false alarm by matoma, becky hill

i heard sirens in my head  from the first time that we met thought it was a false alarm  yeah, we started as a spark didn’t think we’d come this far but here we are

now I’m burning in your arms  endless fire in my heart  no, it’s not a false alarm

A/N: Happy Birthday to our Makdoongie!!

*****

Everything is currently a bit of a blur, but a pleasant one. 

You’re sufficiently buzzed, the thumping of the bass vibrating through you as you wait in line at the bar. You sway contentedly to the beat as you manage to slide onto an empty barstool, waiting as the song changes to see what the new vibe is. You’ve just opened your mouth to order from the frenzied bartender when you register the first few beats of Bruno Mars’ Finesse, and you squeal. You stand up abruptly, nearly falling off the barstool as you do so, and whirl around to face the crowd.

You push yourself up onto your tippy toes, eyes scanning the room frantically. You’re on a mission now. Everyone and everything is a blur in the dim light of the club, fading into the background until you find exactly who you’re looking for. He’s already looking back at you, both hands in the air as he points in your direction. He’s too far, and the music is so loud that you can’t hear him, but you know he’s shouting your name. 

You push through the crowd towards him, one half-finished drink order and a confused bartender forgotten behind you, your own hands raised in the air as you whoop and holler. You’re practically vibrating with excitement as he weaves through the huddle to meet you halfway, and when you meet in the middle, you’re absolutely euphoric. 

You both immediately drop it down. 

You’re not a bad dancer, and Chan is far from it. You’re sure that the two of you are being stared at as you take over the floor, fake twerking and throwing your hands in the air. The movements are absolutely ridiculous but you’re hitting the beat, feeling the music — honestly, you’re absolutely killing it. All you can see, all you care about, is Lee Chan next to you with his head thrown back, laughing and having the time of his life. You can just barely hear his laugh over the pounding of the bass, but you know the sound of it by heart, anyway. You’re beaming, inhibitions thrown to the wind as you find your rhythm with him right there beside you. 

You never feel as happy as when you’re with him. 

This is something that you’ve come to acknowledge as truth. It’s also something you don’t allow yourself to dwell on — because the implications of what it means is terrifying.

The song has just reached Cardi’s rap part when you catch Chan mouthing something, and your eyebrows raise in question. He tries again, and you shake your head. I can’t hear you, you try and mouth back, gesturing, and his mouth forms an ‘o’ in understanding. Then he’s leaning down, lips by the shell of your ear. 

“This song is the best,” he yells, a hand finding your hip to keep you steady as you’re jostled by the ever-moving crowd, and you nod, turning your head to reply. 

“It’s our song!” You yell back, and he pulls away just enough to grin down at you, nodding furtively in agreement. His hand is warm where it’s still settled on your waist. 

You think time stills for a second when your eyes meet. His gaze is unwavering as he beams, and you can’t help but feel like the only other person in the room when he looks at you like this. 

Shit, he’s beautiful. 

It’s not the first time the thought has hit you without warning. You’d blame it on the alcohol if it wasn’t something you catch yourself thinking almost every single day now — that he’s beautiful, your friend Chan. That he’s beautiful and warm, and all things good, and that he’s one of the best things to ever happen to you. 

He still hasn’t let go of you when the song changes, but the moment between you ends so quickly that you wonder if it even happened at all. You hear the opening notes of J.Lo’s On The Floor and Chan cheers again, his hand slipping from your waist to find your fingers. He moves to twirl you and you oblige, letting him spin you out and back in. You belatedly realize what a poor decision you’ve made when you end up with your back flush against his chest, bodies pressed tight together. His arm is snug across your chest, holding you to him as he sings the lyrics into your ear, swaying you dramatically to the opening lines. You think it can’t get any worse — and then the beat drops. 

You are wholly unprepared for the way Chan begins to move against you. Both of his hands drop to settle on your waist as he begins to move his hips back and forth to the music, and your breath catches as your eyes flutter shut. 

Shit.

There’s a reason you never dance seriously with Chan, and it’s because you know the damage he can cause. You’ve seen him dance, seen him do it all from hip hop to contemporary, and you just knew that his body could move against yours in ways that would make you blush. 

You were right.  

Don’t panic. Don’t make it weird.

You’re grateful for the drinks you’ve downed because with the liquid courage, you somehow manage to swallow your nerves and allow your friend to guide your body along with his as he dances. Your head falls back against his shoulder and your fingers reach up, searching for his hair, his neck, anything that will help anchor you to him. He responds by pulling you even closer, his breath warm in the space between your neck and shoulder. You can feel him everywhere, can feel his body pressed against yours, can feel your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. But you don’t hesitate, don’t let yourself think, don’t question anything. You just let yourself feel it all.

Until he abruptly comes to a halt, the song not even halfway through, and brings you to a stop with him. 

It feels like you’re moving in slow motion as he turns you to face him. Gone is silly, giggly Chan, and in his place stands serious, pensive Chan, staring down at you like he’s trying to figure something out. He’s so close, your hand falling to rest on his chest as the two of you remain frozen in the middle of the dance floor. You have absolutely no idea what to think, or say, or do, as his eyes wander across your face in the haze of the flashing lights. You’re not sure how long it takes but he decides what to do for you both, taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit. You hold on for dear life, not daring to let him go. 

As soon as you step into the cool of the night air, Chan turns around, backing you up gently against the wall of the building. You’re sure you’ve been floating for the last ten minutes. You can’t see or hear or think about anything or anyone but him, and how gorgeous he looks in front of you, hair messy from dancing, cheeks flushed. His hands find your face, his forehead falling to rest against yours, and it’s all you can do to just breathe. He’s so close, and all you can think about is how you want him even closer. You swear you can hear his heartbeat — or is it yours? You’re not sure. You’re in a daze, because of the alcohol and because of him, and you’re desperate for him to do something. Anything.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low. “Do you want to—”

“Yes,” you cut him off almost immediately. He inhales a sharp breath at your hasty response, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments, and you wait. Then he’s taking your hand again, pulling you to the curb, and hailing a cab. 

You don’t let go of each other’s hand the entire way back to his apartment.

You’ve been in Chan’s apartment many times. This shouldn’t be new.

But it is, because his hand is in yours as he pulls you through the threshold, and then his hand is finding the middle of your back to pull you in, and then he’s backing you up against his front door.

You don’t think you’ve ever held your breath this long. You feel fuzzy, untethered, a little bit insane as he looks at you. You don’t think he’s breathing, either. His free hand finds your face, and his thumb is brushing your jaw, and you wish you knew what was the right thing to do.

You know what you want to do, you just don’t know if you should.

“Y/N?” 

When he says your name, you let out a breath. “Yeah?”

His eyes search yours, and you can tell he’s struggling, too. “Do you… Um, do you want to shower?” 

You almost laugh, because that was not what you were expecting him to say, but you suppose he’s right. This was probably a terrible, awful, horrible, no-good bad idea. That doesn’t stop your heart from sinking, though.

You nod and he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. You try to clear your thoughts, try to calm your racing heart as you follow him to the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything else, just hands you a clean towel from the cupboard with a soft smile. You thank him quietly, and the door is almost shut behind you when he says your name.

“Y/N?”

You turn, embarrassingly quickly. “Yeah?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out for a moment. Then he tugs on the towel in your hands, pulling you closer and nearly causing you to stumble. His forefinger and thumb catch your chin, holding you steady as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

You don’t remember much of your shower after that. You’re in a daze, hot water streaming down your face, when you hear a soft knock and you jump a little.

“Yeah?”

Chan's voice sounds softly through the door. “I just put some clean clothes on the floor outside, okay?”

When you get out, you take your time drying off, trying desperately to wrap your head around what’s happening. You pull on the t-shirt and shorts he’d left you, taking a deep breath before heading out and into his room. You don’t miss the way Chan’s eyes widen as you enter the room, the way his eyes give you a onceover, or the way his fingers brush yours as he passes you on the way to get a shower of his own.

The air is tense when he re-enters. You’ve already crawled under his sheets — which, again, should be nothing new. What’s new is the way he hesitates, his eyes meeting yours as he towel dries his hair. 

“You can get in with me,” you say softly after a moment of quiet, and he nods. He seems to hesitate for a moment anyway, hand lifting to run through his damp hair. Then he’s climbing in next to you, and you can feel your heartbeat roaring in your ears as his warmth joins you under the covers. 

Are you allowed to touch him? Are you allowed to want to? 

You decide that there’s no going back now. He’d kissed you first — it’s your turn. 

You inhale a breath, and then you’re rolling onto your side to face him. He looks at you in surprise, and it gives you some sense of relief to find that he looks just as nervous as you feel. Before you can lose your nerve, you close the space between you, your head finding his bicep as you curl up into his side. You can feel it as he lets out a breath before he relaxes next to you, his arm sliding under your shoulders, and you goosebumps erupt across your skin. You move to wrap an arm around his waist. You can hear Chan let out a quiet laugh when you do, and you look up at him with a smile. He raises his eyebrows, almost as though you’ve challenged him to something, and then he’s pulling you in and turning his body into yours so that he can tangle your legs together.

Alright, you think as you roll your eyes at him fondly, you win this time, Lee Chan.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Your head is clearing itself of alcohol more and more as the moments pass, and everywhere he’s touching you has your head spinning for an entirely different reason now. His hand has found the space where his shirt has ridden up on your waist, just above your shorts, and he’s begun to trace gentle circles against your hip.

“Chan?”

You break the silence. He hums from his place beside you, fingers stilling.

“Yeah?” His voice is just above a whisper, hushed in this sacred space between you. Like he doesn’t want to break whatever bubble you’re currently trapped in. You don’t blame him. 

“I’m not imagining what’s happening here, right?” You finally say, and you can feel his body tense up. Your voice is quiet — you’re just as terrified as he is.

After a moment, Chan moves his arm from under you and props himself up on his elbow so he can look down at you. His other hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes gently as he responds. “No. You’re not.” 

You pause, biting down on your bottom lip, and Chan’s gaze follows the movement. Then you admit, as soft as ever, “I’m not really drunk anymore.”

“Neither am I.”

There it is. 

For a moment, all you can hear is the background hum of Chan’s air conditioner and the beating of your heart in your own ears.

“So…”

“I’m pretty sober now, and I know exactly what’s happening,” he says, trailing off before adding quietly, “and I’m okay with it. I’m more than okay with it, actually.”

Oh.

“Me too,” you murmur, and then he’s smiling, his gaze on you so soft and warm that you almost want to look away for fear of melting under the affection of it. You don’t.

“Long time coming,” he says, and if your heart wasn’t skipping beats yet, it is now. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Way too long.”

He smiles, head falling back to the pillow. It’s quiet for a moment as you just look at one another. 

“Please let me kiss you again,” he says after a pause, voice even softer than before, and you feel your entire body alight with electricity.

“Absolutely, yes.”

The wide smile you’re rewarded with is worth its weight in gold. The hand on your hip slips around to the middle of your back and he pulls you in, your arms wrapping around his neck as he finally, finally presses his mouth to yours. Once, twice, three times; he kisses you, deep and warm and slow, and you can feel it all the way down to your toes. 

You can’t help but chase his mouth as he pulls away, which feels embarrassing until you’re rewarded with the sound of a soft, breathy laugh full of pure joy from his lips. His nose brushes against yours, foreheads pressed together as you both catch your breath. 

“Why’d you stop?”

The laugh you receive this time is loud. It’s one of your favourite laughs; it’s the one that comes out when he can’t hold back just how happy he is. 

He doesn’t waste any more time. His lips meet yours, and you find yourself on your back again as he kisses you breathless. You find yourself taking mental notes and pictures of it all, just in case. You want to remember how he kisses just like you always imagined he would, soft and slow; how his hands are gentle in their wandering, just like you always knew they would be; how his mouth moves languidly against yours as his hand finds the side of your jaw. Tender, and as warm as the sun.

You don’t know what this means for the two of you, but you don’t think you ever want to forget how it feels.

When you break apart again, you can’t place exactly how you’re feeling. You feel shy, and nervous, and excited, and a million other things all at once. His eyes lazily wander across your face, thumb brushing your jaw.

Minutes pass. He doesn’t look away, so you don’t, either. 

You both know that there’s so much more that needs to be said, but you’re terrified to let anything ruin whatever is going on right now, so you don’t say any of it. Neither does he. Instead, you let yourself relish the feeling of his thumb against your cheek, let him look at you, let him lean down and kiss you one more time. His fingers are warm against your skin where they’ve slipped under your — his — shirt, and you hum against his mouth as he squeezes your waist gently.

“I think kissing is all I want right now,” you whisper, and he nods, brushing his nose against yours. 

“That’s okay,” he murmurs, leaning down to find your mouth once, twice more, before he’s rolling off of you. He turns away from you, and you panic for a moment, fingers reaching for him a little desperately, because space is not what you wanted. That’s not what you wanted at all.

“Please don’t go too far,” you say, and you would regret the desperation in your voice if you weren’t rewarded with the softest look from him in return.

“I’m just turning off the light so we can try and get some sleep,” he explains gently, fingers finding yours and squeezing. He doesn’t let go, even as he reaches for the lamp with his free hand, pulling you back and into his side as soon as the room goes dark.

You want to stay like this, to stay awake, to kiss him some more. But when there’s no more light and you’re wrapped in his warmth again, you can’t help but let your eyes fall shut.

It’s you that wakes up first. 

You know where you are as soon as your eyes open. You’re in Chan’s room, which is nothing new. What is new this morning is the way he’s got his arm draped over your waist, and his face is right next to yours on the pillow. And also that you kissed last night. A lot.

You panic a little when it all comes back to you, but your overthinking is overpowered by your need to pee. You manage to get out from under him with minimal damage. You try not to freak out as you wash your face, your brain reeling with what all of this might mean. You don’t regret it, of course you don’t, but does he?

You fight against everything in you that wants to run, to leave his apartment and pretend nothing happened. Because it’s Chan, and he’s a good friend, and you owe him that much, even if you’re a coward.

You’re grateful that you don’t have to wait for him long, because the longer you sit there, the more you want to throw up. You hear when he stirs in the other room, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment in order to steady yourself. You wait with bated breath on one of the stools in his kitchen like a robot, rigid and tense, until you finally hear him enter. 

“Hey,” he says softly, and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hi,” you reply, voice just as quiet, and you meet his eyes. He smiles tentatively, a hand lifting to run through his hair. He looks so heartbreakingly beautiful like this, you think, when it’s early in the morning and he’s on his way over to you, eyes a soft brown in the sunlight that streams through the kitchen window.

”Did you sleep okay?” 

You think he knows you were staring when he speaks and it takes you a second to react. You blush, abruptly turning your head away from him. 

“Yeah, I slept well.” 

“Hey,” he says, and you can practically hear him trying not to smile. “You can’t hide from me after you kissed me like that last night.”

“Chan!” You’re absolutely scandalized as he uses the bottom of the stool to turn you back towards him. Your hands lift to cover your face, and he laughs. You wince as his laughs subside, but you don’t fight him as he gently pulls your hands away.

“Hi,” he says again, and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for teasing you.” The smile fades from his mouth as his expression turns serious. “We should talk about it.”

You nod, even though you’re so nervous you don’t know if you can talk at all. 

“Do you…” He trails off as he lets go of your hands. He leans against the counter next to you, and you wait for him to continue. “I mean, would you want to do that again?” You furrow your brows, and his eyes widen. He’s quick to speak again, stumbling over his words. “God, I meant… Did you enjoy it? Kissing me and everything? Do you, um, do you want to do this?” 

His eyes squeeze shut as he finishes his sentence, and you can’t believe how flushed he’s gotten. 

“Do you?” Is all you can manage.

Chan’s eyes open again, and he blurts out, “I asked you first.” 

That’s fair.

“Well,” you say softly, “my head’s definitely a lot clearer now.” You watch as Chan deflates a little.

“Oh.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you clock the look of disappointment on his face. “Wait, no! I meant that — what I wanted to say is that even though I’m sober now, I still want to kiss you. Of course I wanted to kiss you last night, too. I wasn’t that drunk —” It’s your turn to flush crimson red now, and you force yourself to take a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that of course I want this, Chan. I have wanted to be with you for so long, and I —“

Your surprised gasp is muffled as he pulls you into him, squeezing you so tight around the waist that you think he might break you. He buries his face in your neck and murmurs, “You should have said that first, oh my god. I have liked you for so long it’s embarrassing, so you need to stop talking before I literally explode.”

It takes a second for everything to process. Then he’s pulled back to look at you again, your legs moving to let him stand between them, and he presses his forehead to yours. Your hand lifts to his face, and you’re flooded with affection when he leans into the warmth of it.

“So,” he says softly.

“So,” you repeat.

He gazes at you, warm, and you bite your lip.

“Us?” You finally ask, and Chan nods with a smile.

“Us.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the fourth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Channie’s birthday. I know I just posted the Woozi fic yesterday, but it’s Chan’s birthday. What can I do?

Also, this fic in particular is very important to me, so I would love to hear your thoughts!

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

[halsteadlover]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @hart-kinsella: Maybe him and mc are working undercover (but they're married in real life) and a guy tries too hard with her (takes her by the arm and invades her personal space as well as trying to flirt with her with words) and then Jay tells him that and punches him. They could be at a club like that one episode when he and Hailey (and Kevin, maybe? I don't remember exactly) were undercover - unfortunately I don't recall which season it was.

• Warnings: mention of drugs, violence.

• Word count: 1543.

• A/N: I know this is not my best work and I apologize 😭 but I managed to quickly write it so I can post something ❤️ and tell me why I stayed for half an hour staring at the wall to think about a title and I ended up with this one 😭 btw love you all and thank you always for your support

It was no secret Jay sometimes hated undercover missions. Especially if you were involved.

He couldn’t help it. He knew you were an amazing cop, one of the best he ever worked with, capable of defending yourself in any circumstances but since you were also his wife, he couldn’t help but worry about you.

And this case was no different.

You and Jay were undercover due to a drug trafficking case, him as a potential buyer interested in purchasing the drugs, you as his work partner who had set up the connection with Joshua Ryder, the criminal suspected of being the gang’s leader.

Jay was on the verge of losing his mind, not being able to stay still and acting like nothing was happening.

You were both in a club, sitting in a VIP room while you talked with Ryder and convince him to make a deal with you. The rest of the team were instead in some fake company’s vans listening to your conversations in real time.

However, things started to go wrong when Jay noticed one of the traffickers approaching you in a way he didn’t like at all.

“Are you here to do business or watch her like a hawk?” the gang leader had insisted for the umpteenth time while for the umpteenth time Jay directed his gaze towards you who continued to giggle with fake enthusiasm with one of Ryder’s henchmen.

You were uncomfortable, as with any mission that involved getting close to another man other than your husband. You knew it was your job, that you had a duty to fulfill and your private life had to stay out of it but sometimes it wasn’t that easy.

“You sure you don’t want anything to drink, sugar?” Asked the man who insistently continued to hit on you. You didn’t even know his name – or care to know – but you smiled anyway with fake naivety, slightly shaking your head.

You quickly glanced at Jay who was sitting in front of you, noticing he was busy talking to Ryder, but his gaze met yours for a moment. It was brief but in that simple look you understood he too had noticed that guy’s insistence. Jay had his arms crossed over his chest, breathing heavy, his jaw clenched as he saw how this man insisted on getting closer to you.

He was disgusting, he smelled of alcohol from miles away, and you had to repress the urge to vomit and the instinct to punch his ugly face.

The man approached further, sliding on the sofa towards you and you moved back, trying to create further distance but without making it obvious and making him suspicious.

“You know, my boss is quite jealous of his employees, you shouldn’t be so close to me,” you falsely giggled but he didn’t seem to get the hint, in fact, it seemed to amuse him even more.

“We’re all one big family here darling, what’s mine is someone else’s and what’s someone else’s is mine…” He rested an arm on the back of the sofa behind your shoulders and although he hadn’t even touched you, you felt your skin crawl and the urgent need to throw yourself into an acid bath. “If you want to do business with us your boss will have to learn how to share… Especially with such a beautiful and gracious girl like you.”

The desire to kick him in the balls was intense and you wondered what kind of woman would really fall for these words.

Jay was on the verge of losing his mind.

He was trying.

He was really trying but it was so fucking hard to stay still and not react when that son of a bitch was being a creep with his wife. Ryder was talking to him about something he didn’t even care about, but he couldn’t pay attention and process a single word, too focused on you.

He couldn’t help but glance at you every now and then, running a hand on his jaw in frustration and starting to fidget on the spot as he saw the man getting closer and closer to you and invading your personal space, like touching your hair or caress your shoulder.

It wasn’t jealousy, he could never be jealous of a filthy man like him but he deeply hated not being able to do anything to keep you safe without ruining the whole mission. He hated seeing you so tense and uncomfortable although from the way your hands were balled into fists in your lap, he knew you too were itching to punch him.

He hated having to pretend you were simply his work partner and not his wife.

But he swore he saw red when that man’s clammy hand rested on your face and your eyes widened at the contact as your entire body froze in place.

Fuck the mission and these motherfuckers too.

Jay lost control.

That slimy hand on you had driven him crazy and before he knew it, he had stood up and grabbed the man’s hand with his, punching him in the face with all the strength in his body. He didn’t catch the gasp that escaped you and he didn’t even care he had just ruined any chance of doing ‘business’ with Ryder along with the possibility of framing him. While his fist hit that bastard again and again, all he could do was think of those hands on you.

“That’s my fucking wife you motherfucker!” Jay screamed in his face, holding him by the collar of his shirt as the man spat out blood, struggling to keep up with the fury of the undercover detective. “Let me catch you again putting a hand on her or even just looking her way, I’ll enjoy breaking your fingers one by one before throwing you in jail.”

Everything was now chaos.

The team, who in the meantime had witnessed everything through your hidden cameras, burst in when they realized the situation had now worsened to the point of no return. You tried to pull Jay away from the man, but it was totally useless, not when he was so furious that your strength was no match for his.

Ryder was fuming when he realized you were cops and you had tried to frame him, swearing he’d make you pay dearly while Kevin handcuffed him along with the rest of his goons.

“Baby,” you called back but Jay didn’t look at you right away. You stood outside the club under Voight’s orders, a hand on his bicep and caressing him as you tried to get his attention. You were alone in a little corner, waiting for your boss for his inevitable fury.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low but finally focusing his gaze on you.

You let out a laugh trying to diffuse the tension, you hated seeing him so furious. “You are ask me if I’m okay? I’m not the one who just punched a guy.”

He sighed, tearing his eyes away from you as he ran his hands over his face with frustration. Your heart clenched at the sight of his red and bruised knuckles. “I wish I had killed him to be honest.”

“Jay I don’t want you to get hurt because of me,” you replied, taking his hands in yours and leaving a kiss on the back of them, smiling when you saw his hard features start to soften at the gesture. “I could’ve handled him, I wouldn’t have let him go any further.”

“I know you could baby, you’re amazing,” he softy spoke, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He took a step towards you, closing the distance enough you had to slightly lift your head up to look into his eyes. “But there’s no way on earth that I would have sat there and watched while that son of a bitch put his hands on you.”

He cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs caressing your heated cheeks. “No one gets to put a hand on you, much less against your will. You’re my wife, I’m the only bastard who can touch you and I will gladly kill anyone who dares to do it instead of me, am I clear?”

You let out a breath, almost on the verge of passing out right there and now in his arms. “God baby I want to suck your dick so bad right now. I love when you get so protective of me, it’s so hot.”

Jay burst out laughing, his stomach clenching in anticipation knowing you would stand by your words. He pulled you into a hug and you rested your head on his chest as you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ll always keep you safe, I won’t let anyone touch a single hair of your head, I hope you know it. God knows I would set the city on fire to protect you.”

“I know baby, I love you so damn much it’s insane,” you deeply inhaled the smell of his cologne, leaving a kiss on his shirt coated chest. “But I hope it’s worth it because Voight is coming and I think he’s ready to take us both out,” you continued when you broke away from the hug and saw your boss coming up behind Jay, a furious look on his face.

“Oh yeah, it’ll always be worth it, especially for the amazing blowjob you’ll give me later.”

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[silamander]

Mini Hatchetfield headcanons post

- Charlotte named one of her cats Theo, after Ted. (Cause like the man himself, Theo is also a bastard)

- Richie has a fake sword made out of old monster energy cans.

- Hailey has a sketchbook. She's one of those people who are like “it's not that good but I'll show you anyway” and then it opens up to show page after page of the prettiest, most well drawn sketches.

- Sometimes Wilbur's laugh wheezes at the end just like Wiggly’s.

- Grace has a gap in her teeth.

- Miss Holloway is 100% ambidextrous.

- While Gary is not the only lawyer in Hatchetfield, he is one of the only ones with a cheesy commercial that plays 24/7 on radio and TV. He also has billboards everywhere in town. He's a master of marketing so he gets hired to the point where most people think he's the only attorney in Hatchetfield, despite it being false.

- Sam likes Lady Gaga. I'm not explaining.

- Richie and Ruth kissed once and told everyone that they boned.

- The reason Boy Jerry hates Ted is because he flirted with Girl Jeri ONCE back in high school and she got all flustered, and Boy Jerry had to try not to murder him.

- On a side note, Boy Jerry was just a genderbent Grace Chasity when he was in school but somehow more obnoxious and everyone fucking hated him.

- The dress Steph wore to homecoming was her mother's.

- Becky wears the most white mom ass slip on shoes.

- Richie doesn’t use character ai, he role plays like a REAL geek.

- Paul and Emma have a day out of the month where they get high and watch shitty movies.

- Steph goes to Miss Retros on the weekends and is close with Miss Holloway (cause girl needs a mother figure in her life).

[noosayog]

[exactly where you wanted me] in which Oikawa asks you to be his fake girlfriend and isn't expecting to be swept off his feet

wc: 2.3k

warnings/content: she/her!reader, minimal angst, mostly fluff, love triangle-ish (as I had forewarned), pining

It’s a Friday morning, when Iwaizumi, accompanied by a very excited looking Oikawa, pulls you aside before homeroom starts. 

Suspicious, you think. But if Iwa-chan is on board, it can’t be too bad. 

After lots of flowery words and floundering from Oikawa, Iwaizumi explains that Oikawa wants you to pretend to date him to deter his fangirls from crowding practice afterschool in less than two sentences. He uses an additional sentence to say it’s stupid but probably effective. 

You’ve been friends with Iwa-chan since your first years in high school and you generally think Oikawa is amusing, so you agree.

--

There’s not much to fake dating that’s different from real dating. You spend time together and there’s no way Oikawa’s heart stood a chance against getting this much alone time with you. He’s enjoyed being able to hang out with both you and Iwa-chan together before, but now, as your fake boyfriend, he’s allowed to indulge in all of your attention. He likes that. 

So in the spirit of playing the role of a good fake boyfriend mixed with some selfish intentions, he asks - begs - you to come to cheer him on at a friendly practice match between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa, because that’s what people who are dating do. You agree. 

On the day of the match, there you are, dressed in his spare turquoise blue jersey. He doesn’t realize he’s grinning like a maniac until Iwa-chan smacks him upside the head to tell him to start warming up. 

He’s still having trouble focusing when he notices you making your way down to the court. Instead of going straight to him, though, he watches you make your way to the Shiratorizawa side of the court. He’s about to stop you, out of concern that straight-arrow Ushiwaka would reprimand you for interrupting warm-ups, but to his surprise (horror), Ushijima meets you in the middle and starts chatting with you. 

Okay, what’s going on here? Is Ushiwaka… trying to flirt with you? 

Rationally, he knows it’s unlikely. Chronically, Oikawa is an overreactor and overthinker. 

So he storms up to you and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the enemy captain. He hides your entire frame behind his and puffs his chest up, arms crossed defensively. 

“Ushijima,” he greets with false bravado. “Do you need something with my girlfriend?” 

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says in his calm voice, and nothing else. 

Nothing else? Okay, he was used to carrying the conversation with this brick wall of a man anyway. “Ready to lose today?”

Ushijima’s head cocks to the side, “Who, me?” 

Oikawa’s eyes twitch. “Do you see anyone else here? There’s no way I’d lose with my girlfriend cheering me on.” 

Ushijima’s eyebrows raise. “Girlfriend?” he questions, looking at you. 

“Yes,” Oikawa asserts. He doesn’t like the look Ushijima is giving you. Like he knows something, knows you. 

“Wakatoshi,” you start. 

First name basis? 

Oikawa’s uncomprehending but there’s no time for explanations because Coach Washijo is calling Ushijima and Iwaizumi is calling him. You give both him and Ushijima a little wave and say nothing else as you return to the stands. 

Seijoh wins with Ushiwaka sitting out for 2 of the 3 sets played. You had cheered for him as promised. After the match, his teammates give him a hard smack in the back, Iwa-chan adding a glare and warning to stay focused regardless of official or practice match next time.

As you’ve been doing every evening since you started fake dating, you wait for Oikawa outside of the gym to walk home together. However, unlike any other day, Oikawa does not wound his arm around your shoulder nor does he clasp his hands in yours. He puts a respectable 2-feet distance between the two of you. Adrenaline from the game subsiding, thoughts of you and Ushijima surface again. 

“Oikawa?” you peer at him. “What’s wrong?” 

“What is your relationship with Ushiwaka?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. “You call him by his first name.” So much for that. 

“Wakatoshi is a friend I grew up with. My parents are friends with his.” You’re casual, as if there is nothing more to the story. 

“And he always lets you interrupt his warm ups to talk to him?” his voice heavy with implication. 

Your quick replies come to a halt. The pause is heavy and awkward, but this time, when you respond, you meet his eyes evenly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Oikawa shrinks at your narrowed eyes. “Nothing,” he mumbles. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer anyway. “Thanks for coming today,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you on Monday then.” 

You allow him to lean in and give you your usual peck that comes with any goodbye with Oikawa, today on the cheek. “Bye, Oikawa.” 

--

On Monday, he updates Iwaizumi with all the details. Predictably, Iwa-chan slaps the back of his head. 

“Oww! Why did you do that?” 

“Why does who she’s friends with matter to you?” Iwaizumi starts walking away but pauses to crane his head back to level Oikawa with a stare. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. Figure it out yourself, idiot.” 

Oikawa’s left rubbing the back of his head.

--

Mattsun and Makki are next. 

“Well, just think about it,” Makki says. 

“Why does it bother you so much that Ushiwaka is involved with her?” Mattsun finishes. 

“Well, she’s my-”

“Fake girlfriend.” Mattsun interrupts. 

“Fake.” Makki echoes. 

“Fake.” Mattsun nods. 

--

Oikawa reminisces about the first time you called him Toru. It had been the first time the two of you had walked home together after you had started fake dating and Oikawa had thought that you would start calling him Toru all the time.

You didn’t. Even though you call Ushijima by his first name. 

Contrary to Iwa-chan’s constant labeling, Oikawa isn’t an idiot. He knows that this jealousy and greed for more of you – your time, your attention, your affection – all point to one thing. He is self-diagnosing lovesickness. He has a crush on you. 

Logical next steps would be for Oikawa to take full advantage of all the alone time he gets to spend with you as your fake boyfriend, sweep you off your feet, seduce you, the works. Not that he hasn’t already been doing that. 

Luckily, as your fake boyfriend, a big perk is that it’s literally in Oikawa’s job description to scare potential suitors away. Not that it was hard with how popular and good-looking he is, if he does say so himself. 

However, tricking your childhood friend proved more difficult than he had hoped. In fact, it seemed the two of you didn’t have to, because the next time he sees you and Ushijima, somehow your childhood friend seems to already know. 

It’s later that night when Oikawa decides he wants to go on a late night convenience store run for some ice cream with you. You had responded, jokingly, “Fake boyfriends don’t ask me out on dates.” 

“Who said it was a date?” 

You laughed and agreed. 

So he meets you at your front door, dreaming of skipping to the store, swinging hands with you, and looking forward to an ice-cream induced sugar rush. Those dreams are quickly dashed when your front door swings open with a guilty looking you. 

“I’m sorry, Oikawa,” you start but before you can elaborate, your front door opens again to reveal Ushijima. You turn your head back and nod lightly in Ushijima’s direction, as if that explains the situation. 

“Oikawa,” Ushijima greets, his usual stoic mask unchanging. 

Oikawa turns his cheek at him and ignores the greeting. He leans in conspiratorially with a hand over his palm and whispers obnoxiously, “what’s he doing here?” 

You slap his hand away and turn to Ushijima. “Wakatoshi, I don’t need a chaperone. You can just go home.” 

“Your parents asked me to accompany you to the store if you wanted to go.” 

“Oikawa can take me.” 

“Your parents asked me,” he says simply.

You apologize to Oikawa for Ushijima’s bullheadedness, and he knows you intend to assuage him, but all he can think about is why on earth are you apologizing for Ushijima? But all he does is nod and make towards the convenience store. When you fall into step with him, he does not skip with you and swing your hands. He also doesn't think he's going to be feeling any sort of sugar rush anymore, mood soured. 

Oikawa can’t help but drop a comment as the three of you are walking home. “Kind of insensitive of you to be third-wheeling a date, don’t you think?” 

Ushijima’s eyes flip over to you. “I didn’t realize you needed to be on the job during the weekends too.” 

Oikawa’s smile drops. On the job? He turns around to face you, watching your face carefully as you flash Ushijima a sheepish smile, eyes flickering between the two captains. 

“Don’t call it a job, Wakatoshi.” 

Oikawa’s stomach twists when he hears you call him by his first name again. 

Ushijima ignores your comment and turns to Oikawa. “I’ll walk her home. You can go home.” 

You shake your head at him. “No, Wakatoshi. Oikawa will walk me home. I’ll see you later.” 

Surprisingly, Ushijima concedes and listens to you. “Bye, Wakatoshi,” you say. 

The two of you watch Ushijima’s back recede further and further and don’t say anything even when he’s long gone. You start walking in the direction of your home, but Oikawa takes hold of your wrist. 

“You told him?” 

“Who? Told what?” 

Oikawa levels you with a hard look that you’re not used to. 

“No!” you deny. You’re avoiding eye contact.

“Then how does he know?” He can’t help the accusatory tone slipping into his voice. He’s scared that if he isn’t on the offensive, he’ll let the hurt slip out. 

“Well, I… You know I’m a bad liar! He just… found out!” 

You wait, maybe for Oikawa to laugh it off and tell you it’s okay as he normally would, but he doesn’t. 

“It’ll be okay,” you explain. “Wakatoshi doesn’t go to our school and even if he does, he would never talk about other people's problems.” 

There’s a lot Oikawa wants to ask. Like why you’re vouching for him, why you call him Wakatoshi, when he’s just “Oikawa.” But instead, he just nods robotically and you seem relieved that he doesn’t seem mad. When you arrive at your front door, Oikawa stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits for you to go. You don’t, but he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s the only one feeling this thick tension and awkwardness in the silence. He opts for a quick goodbye but before he can walk off, you grab his arm and yank him back. 

“Oikawa,” you say. 

“What? You might as well have pulled my whole arm off! I need my arms, you know,” he jokes.

“Toru.” Your eyes are steady looking at him. “What’s wrong?” 

Oikawa’s smile drops and he breaks eye contact first. He can only look at the floor while he thinks about what he can say. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable, but I’m your friend right? We may not be really dating, but I still want to be there for you if you’re having a hard time.” 

Silence. 

“Is it Wakatoshi? I know you don’t like him but-” 

“Do you?”

You blink. “Do I what?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“No!” you exclaim, taken aback. “Where did that come from?” 

“You call him by his first name.” 

“Well, yes. We’ve known each other since we were children, though! There’s no special meaning.” 

Deep breath. 

“So when you call me by my first name, is there special meaning? We’re not childhood friends.” 

Your eyes widen like saucers and you’re the first to break eye contact, face to the floor. 

There’s a long pause and he feels stupid for even asking, for hoping. Oikawa sighs and takes a gaping step back, away from you. “Forget I said anything.” 

“What if it did,” you whisper. So quietly, Oikawa almost missed it. And he would’ve, if he isn’t in a constant state of hanging onto every word you say, every sign you give. 

You meet his eyes, and repeat, “what if it does?” 

Oikawa isn’t processing this information quick enough, but he can already feel his hopes welling up to fill his chest. He’s so scared that he might be misreading the situation, fitting meaning into your words. “When I say special meaning, it means special.” He says dumbly. He emphasizes the word special, in hopes that you would understand the entire slew of suppressed feelings in that one word. 

“I do understand,” you say simply. 

It was a feeling akin to when it was simultaneously his service point and match point. The simplicity in which you delivered your meaning left no choice but to flood his chest with hope. He doesn’t even realize that he has a massive smile plastered on until you’re mirroring his expression. He waits no longer in stepping into your space, fingers intertwining with yours. He gives you your usual parting kiss, on the forehead, and lingers a few moments longer. 

“Good night, then, girlfriend.” Even if you can’t see his face because of how close he is to you, he makes sure you can feel the curve of his grin and every word whispered against your temple. 

He’s feeling good, satisfied, as he turns around to make his own way home (to squeal and roll around in glee in private), when you grab his arm once again. 

Shameless, he gloats, “still haven’t had enough? I’m happy to-” 

In true fashion, you humble him by pressing your lips against his, effectively shutting him up and wiping the smirk off his face. When you pull away, he chases your lips, eyes still closed. You giggle, give him one more gentle peck, and skip inside, leaving him there, red as a tomato.

[apomaro-mellow]

Family Planning 2

Part 1

When he got home that evening, he called both Tommy and Carol to let them know he wouldn’t be able to pick them up the next morning. All in service to the big reveal tomorrow. The fake stomach had been smuggled out of the theatre department and only now did Steve take it out, alone in his room.

He put it on with surprising ease and looked himself over in the mirror, snickering to himself. Then he put a shirt over it and widened his eyes at how realistic it looked. His arms slowly wound around to cradle his stomach. He let himself imagine that it was actually his, that it was actually his and Eddie’s. 

“Yeah right”, Steve scoffed, like he was trying to convince himself as he took it off. 

The next day, Steve was having breakfast with his parents when he heard someone pull up to the driveway. Not just someone. It could only be-

“Who is that?”, Steve’s father Richard frowned at the van out front.

“That’s my Home Ec partner. Gotta run!” He gobbled the rest of his cereal, put his bowl in the sink, kissed his mother’s cheek and then ran out the door. Once he got in the passenger side, Eddie took off, not even waiting for him to have his seatbelt on.

“Jesus, why are you in such a rush? Is that anyway to treat someone who’s expecting?”

“Sorry, just excited”, Eddie said, putting the pedal to the metal.

Steve could understand. He was kind of feeling a buzz too, but he wasn’t about to admit it. On the way to school, he worked on slipping the fake belly over his real one. 

Eddie wasn’t exactly a virgin. He’d messed around a couple of times before. But even so, seeing Steve’s bare torso, his belly button and happy trail, he kept from swerving only just because he was turning anyway. He kept his eyes on the road, resolute, after that. What a stupid way to die, ogling a guy who’d never given you the time of day. Because of his focus, he didn’t get to see Steve’s new look until he parked.

It looked so…natural. He swallowed, eyes moving slowly up his body to meet the omega’s. 

“Are you ready?”, Steve asked.

Eddie grinned. “It’s showtime.” He got out first and then went over to Steve’s side, clearing his throat before he spoke. “Watch your step, baby.”

Steve’s ears burned at the pet name. They had made this grand plan, pretending to be expecting parents. But he hadn’t really visualized what that would look like in practice besides the dropped jaws of their peers. Eddie held his hand out to help Steve out of the van, all part of the show. And when he finally stepped out all the way it was like he could hear the hush come over the parking lot.

Everyone who caught sight of them was trying to do the mental gymnastics to make sense of what they were seeing. Eddie snickered as he put an arm around Steve’s shoulders, enjoying the spectacle. They walked passed a few cars before getting to Tommy’s truck, where he and Carol were leaning against the bumper.

“What the hell am I looking at?”, Carol said, eyes bugging out of her head.

“This has gotta be some kind of joke”, Tommy glared in confusion.

And even though Steve was their friend, their befuddlement kept them from approaching. As it did to others. Everyone just stared on. Only a few knew that they’d been paired for the Home Ec project. Plenty knew about the lunchroom incident but didn’t exactly know how Steve was involved. Eddie walked Steve to his locker and only then did he take his arm off his shoulders.

“Time for Papa Bear to bring home the bacon. Don’t miss me too much.” He bent over to kiss Steve’s false belly and then skipped off. For all his bravado, there was a part of him that was nervous that Steve might think he went too far. Best to get out of whopping distance in that case.

No one had ever kissed his stomach before. But then again, Steve supposed no one had a reason to. Even though he hadn’t really felt it, the place Eddie kissed tingled all the same. He quickly checked himself before going off to class. It wasn’t like he liked the man. They’d barely spoken to one another. Maybe he was a little easy on the eyes, nice hair anyway. But the man’s fashion sense left a lot to be desired.

Steve’s thoughts were cut off when his homeroom teacher choked at the sight of him. Everyone else in the room stopped talking. Steve entered with his head held high but for a moment he wondered if this was how it would be if he actually got knocked up. How long would it have taken him to show? Would people stare this much? He vaguely recalled a girl last year who got pregnant. Of course, she dropped out and Steve had no idea what became of her until he happened to see her at the grocery store, carting a pup along.

She seemed content. Although he now realized he had no idea what happened to the person who sired her pup or who they even were. The double standards had always been apparent to Steve but even more so now that he was stepping into that role.

At some point during class, he started resting his hand on his stomach. It just felt natural. And then he began to rub it. It wasn’t hard to imagine it was all for real. It was just hard to wrap his head around having a baby himself. Steve had never gone steady with anyone. What kind of alpha would he eventually be with?

The thoughts ran through his mind for the remainder of homeroom, when Eddie showed up to come and ‘pick him up’. 

“Did my two darlings miss me?”

“It wasn’t even half an hour”, Steve rolled his eyes. He was aware that Eddie didn’t attend his own homeroom because that was usually when he went out to the abandoned picnic area to sell his party favors. Bring home the bacon, indeed.

Eddie escorted him to his next period, which he shared with Carol and Tommy. Of course, they were already there and before the period officially started, they grabbed Steve and made an exit. Loitering in the halls when they should be in class wasn’t out of the ordinary, especially for a teacher that droned like Mr. Parsons, but he could tell this wouldn’t be their usual hang out session.

“What’s the deal with that?”, Carol cut right to the chase, pointing at his torso.

The hallway was empty, everyone either in class or loitering elsewhere. Steve just shrugged while smiling. He knew jokes like this weren’t their thing, which is why he didn’t bring it up before the reveal. They were more into the kind that were at other’s expense.

“It’s just a gag. And a way to not fail Home Ec this year.”

“Did Munson put you up to this?”, Tommy crossed his arms.

“He came up with the idea but clearly I had nothing against it.”

Carol’s face was green. “You look ridiculous. What if people actually think you’re pregnant?”

“Then they’d be stupid”, Steve said. No one went from flat stomach to showing in a day. It was such a change that his shirt almost didn’t fit him.

Tommy shook his head. “You had like, one detention with him and he’s got you all flipped around, doing his bidding.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that. And it won’t even be that long. We’ve got a plan.”

The rest of the day went by with the same gawking and staring that had begun in the morning, especially when Eddie sat at Steve’s table during lunch. If looks could kill, he would have been double dead by the way Carol and Tommy were glaring. Steve paid their attitudes no mind and treated it as if Eddie always sat there.

At the end of the day, Eddie took Steve home and he took the belly off on the drive back. They looked at each other, rather pleased with themselves.

“I can’t believe the looks on all their faces”, Eddie beamed.

“I think some of those jaws are still on the floor”, Steve said.

“Ready for the big climax tomorrow?”

Steve took a breath. “As I’ll ever be. Think this’ll actually get us back on track for the assignment?”

“That or we get suspended. But! Engels won’t wanna deal with me for a whole other year and you’ve got the untouchable quality of being on a sports team, so they’ll probably let us off with an essay.”

“God, I hate essays”, Steve rubbed his face. “Why makes us write five hundred words when I can say it in like 12?”

“You think five hundred words is a lot? That’s adorable.”

Steve scowled at him and Eddie gave a very dramatic wince. To the point where he fell back against the driver side door with his hand to his heart.

“There it is! The Royal Evil Eye!”

“Shut the hell up”, Steve scoffed.

“If it makes you feel any better about our situation, I don’t mind helping you with that essay. We’ll probably be spending many afternoons in detention after tomorrow.”

Steve didn’t know when the prospect of such a punishment didn’t seem like such a drag anymore. With Eddie around at least it wouldn’t be boring.

“It’s the least you can do”, Steve said as he opened the door. “If you’re gonna be my alpha, take responsibility.”

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

The next day started the same but this time, both Eddie and Steve were a little nervous. Yesterday was like a pre-show compared to what would go down today. They had Home Ec today and if their teacher hadn’t heard about Steve’s new predicament, she’d find out the moment they walked in.

Steve skipped homeroom that morning, going with Eddie into the theatre department where one of Eddie’s friends, Gareth, was helping them with this final stunt.

“Okay, are you guys really sure you wanna do this?”

“Just tell me you got it rigged to max pressure”, Eddie said.

“Dude, the whole classroom is going to be a splash zone”, Gareth assured him.

“How do you know how to do all this?”, Steve asked.

“You know those guys who do effects in horror movies? That’s gonna be me one day.”

The period for Home Ec came and Ms. Engels’ eyes got wide watching Eddie walk in with his arm around Steve’s waist. There were snickers coming from the other students as it was clear she had NOT heard that they had a bundle on the way. 

“Just what do you two think you’re doing?”

“By my watch, I’d say arriving to class a full minute early”, Eddie said just as the bell rang. “Oh, mine must be a little fast.”

“You were told to show that you can handle the responsibility of parenthood”, she began to scold as they took their seats, this time right next to each other.

“What’s more responsible than this”, Steve said. “I’m all ready to become a mother.”

She glowered. “Teen pregnancy is a serious issue.”

“Then why don’t we learn anything useful?”, Eddie challenged. “All this school has taught us is ‘don’t have sex, oh but in case you do, here’s a bag of flour’. How does a bag of flour teach us anything about babies?”

“I’m calling the principal”, Ms. Engels said, going to the phone on the wall. “Detention will be the least of your worries.”

Eddie stood up. “Careful, you don’t want to put stress on my Stevie. He’s due any minute now.”

“Principal Woolsley, the Munson boy is at it again. I need you in my room this instant.”

“I’m warning you”, Eddie said.

“Are you threatening a teacher!?”

“Eddie!”, Steve gasped. “That baby’s coming!”

“Oh you’ve done it now Engels!”, Eddie shook a finger at her and then helped Steve to stand up like he was actually going through labor.

The rest of the class watched on, engaged in the spectacle. Eddie went right over to Ms. Engels’ desk and in one sweep, brushed everything off her desk and onto the floor. There were gasps and shrieks and guffaws and Eddie lived for it as he brought Steve over to lay on top of it.

“Okay, honey here we go. Just breathe and push with me.”

“This is completely unacceptable!”

“And push!”

Steve’s face only showed glee as he pretended to push the baby out, waiting for Eddie’s cue. He really was some kind of showman, hamming it up for his audience. He waited for the tension in the room to rise before he went around to Steve’s front, peering between his clothed legs.

“I think I see a head! It’s time to really push!”

A few heads craned like they’d actually be able to see a pup crowning when Steve was still wearing his jeans. It was the suspense of whether or not something, anything would come out. Eddie went back to Steve’s side and held his hand, grounding him. Steve took a breath and they let Gareth’s work explode.

Right into Mr. Woolsley’s face.

The tomato sauce was pretty thick, filled with chunks that would’ve been a pretty good stand in for viscera. But even through it all, they could see the man’s red face. His voice was scarily even as he spoke.

“I’m calling your parents.”

Part 3

Tag Team

@marklee-blackmore @aol19

[pumpkinsy0]

The most thoughtful gift Curly ever gave Pony is a false book yeah Pony thought it was a prank at first until Curly mentioned how he could hide his cigarettes there in plain sight from the social workers and then Pony thought Curly hung the moon every night for like a week.

For Curly, it was a switchblade from Pony that had his name engraved on it. The Shepards might not be as tight as The Curtis, but they're trained; and boy do they steal shit left and right and 2 times Curly has had his blade stolen (and of course Tim didn't give a fuck to back him up) so with a gold "Curly" engraved on it, now Curly has full rights to beat their ass for theft. (But usually Curly doesn't use it in a fight. He actually likes to crave stuff out of it, like little animal figures from sticks and wood. He feels it's more useful and poetic. And if he's honest, this is the first time he's used a weapon for creating something rather destroying. He feels Pony healing his soul every time he uses it)

ANNDDDD TO ADD ON☝🏽☝🏽

bonus points if its not like one of those fake books made by a company, maybe curly actually made it himself!! he can tell bc the cutting inside the book is pretty crudely done, hell if he looks at a few pages he can see spots of curlys dried blood from accidentally cutting himself(he did it 3 times if u were wondering) and that makes pony like it even more, bc that means curly spent his time w it and thought of him, makes pony feel a bit special

MOREEEE bonus points if the blade has curlys name spelt w ponys handwriting, it was a surprise gift and pony didnt ask curly to spell his name for him or somethin, so pony just had to use his own handwriting, but curly likes it anyways, it feels more personal to him!!!ANNDDDD he likes to use that blade to carve out “c + p was here” or something along those lines, he feels extra proud to do it actually and on top of it being the only weapon he uses to create, its also the only one he just takes out to just admire, u can find him at the kitchen table just looking at how the blade and the gold part of it glints under the shitty light

[monakisu]

I'm pretty sure Joker being like Sleeping Beauty in Royal was intentional. After all, third semester in general has a fairytale theme, with Sumire being Cinderella and Maruki being the Fairy Godmother that grants her (and everyone else's) wishes. But he's also Maleficent, because he puts Sleeping Beauty (Joker) to sleep. Hence Maruki viewing himself as the good guy but also being the bad guy. He gives Sleeping Beauty his Prince Charming (Akechi) in order to convince him to stay within the dream of the false reality, but fails to realize what Prince Charming's goal is in every telling of the story. To wake Sleeping Beauty. Hence, Akechi being the most against the fake reality and being the one to convince Joker not to stay in the reality. By failing to admit his role as the villain, Maruki brings about his own demise in the form of Akechi. It's so well done I can't imagine it being anything but intentional. I mean, Joker even walks with Akechi, "once upon a dream" if one considers the fake reality akin to a dream.

^^^ YEAH!!!!!! YOU GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🧨💥🧨💥🧨💥

i find the irony of goro and maruki’s varying self-awareness levels to be RESPLENDENT!! like here we have goro who has always desperately yearned to be the hero and yet he’s resigned himself to playing the role of villain, the big bad wolf killing mothers and fathers and plotting against the righteous thieves… but come third semester he’s the heroic prince charming saving sleeping beauty!!

(although i like my yaoi toxic, i have to admit how perfectly akira and goro click together as two halves of a whole; they intrigue and excite each other, fulfill their savior complexes and desire to be known intimately, bring the best and worst out of each other...) these two freaks are literally this:

anyways i like to daydream that in the euthanasia ending (i enjoy how horrifying and clinical that name is) even after the rest of the world has long forgotten akira, goro, who has always been stubbornly aware and driven by the truth (i mean, both his AOA's talk about the truth; the boy is FIXATED), will eventually make his way up sleeping beauty’s tower to wake up his love…

and then there’s the other part of the irony: maruki who thinks himself to be his new reality’s messiah but is actually the real Big Bad woa!! a classic evil queen, the evil stepmother, coraline’s other mother trying to trap her in her spiderweb… amazing!!! like u said, he’s simultaneously sumi’s fairy godmother and akira’s villainous fairy! everyday i thank the devs for adding third semester bcuz hoo boy did it elevate p5 to the high heavens!!

i’ve always been very fond of the sleeping beauty parallels in p5, but i’d never thought about it thoroughly enough to realize how instrumental goro’s prince charming role is in dismantling malecificent’s curse! thank u for opening my eyes!! i’m literally giddy from glee!!!

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 4

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, mild physical violence, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Aaaaa!!! After the lengthy process of reposting all my old work, I can finally post an update and treat y’all to something new!!! Welcome back, y’all and thank you for rejoining me on this journey with the SDDU and specifically with Javy and Roadie 💚💛🩶

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You try to still your restless hands as you sit in the parking garage of the Dogfighters’ arena. Javy had texted you directions to the staff parking section and now you’re currently working up the courage to get out of your car and go inside. You’re turning your phone over and over in your hands, debating texting Javy to ask him to meet you so you don’t have to try to navigate the unfamiliar building alone worrying about bothering him. You’d texted him an hour ago to let him know you were on your way but now you’ve suddenly lost your nerve. As you’re stuck against your mental roadblock, a knock on your window makes you jump so hard you feel your seatbelt chafe painfully at your neck. Your neck whips to catch sight of your attacker as your hand curls around the pepper spray attached to your keys. It relaxes slightly as a scowl crosses your face, replacing the wide-eyed panic as you catch sight of Javy, leaning an arm against the top of the window frame and smirking through the glass at you. You have a good mind to pepper spray him anyway.

Instead, you settle on shoving the door open, aiming to put him off balance but it seems you’ve underestimated exactly how big hockey players are. The door barely budges. You shove again, scowl deepening as Javy’s smirk spreads into a grin as he realizes what you’re trying to do. His laugh echoes off of the walls of the parking garage and when he throws his head back shifting his weight off the door, you give a particularly hard shove and the combination sends him stumbling back a few steps, and you feel a grin tug at the corner of your mouth, but you stifle the urge to smile as you hurry out of the car before Javy can go back to leaning against the door.

“Good to see you too, Roadie.” He says with a smirk as he straightens back up. “I was wondering what happened when you said you were on the way an hour ago and the drive is only thirty minutes.” Your lips part in surprise. “You okay?” He asks and you watch his carefree smirk morph into something else, his gaze firmer as he scans over your body like he’s looking for an invisible injury or ailment. You shake your head, dismissing his concerns.

“I’m fine.” You twist your hands around the strap of your purse and your eyes drift down to watch the repetitive motion.

“Well then,” Javy clears his throat awkwardly. “Shall we?” You nod, not letting up with the twisting until Javy’s hand enters your field of vision, held out in silent offer.

“Uh, you probably don’t want to,” you murmur, finally releasing the purse strap to attempt to wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans. “Sweaty,” you hold your hands up, heat rising to your cheeks as you explain and Javy gives you what you almost convince yourself is a fond smile before he takes your hand in his.

“I’m sweaty too, that makes two of us.” It’s like a cold bucket of water dumped on your nerves and you feel your lips part slightly in surprise as Javy leads you by your linked hands towards the door. “Come on,” he says as he holds open the door for you, not letting go of your hand. “The guys are going to love you,” he says, flashing that roguish grin at you that makes your heart thump as you momentarily forget exactly who he is.

The four-letter word is still pounding in your ears as Javy leads you down winding hallways that you know you should be committing to memory but you’re too distracted to pay attention to right now. Then he turns the corner and you’re standing in what looks a lot like the teacher’s lounge. There’s a group of twenty-some grown men of varying ages sprawled across couches and chairs. A few look up when you enter with Javy and he squeezes your hand encouragingly.

“Hey guys,” Javy says loudly and you feel the weight of dozens of eyes focus on you and you feel the desperate urge to sink into the ground and disappear.

“Roadie!” An excited shout draws your attention to where Jake’s chatting with a larger player who’s now watching you curiously, dark brown brows drawn together in a scrutinizing frown. Jake’s grinning as he waves at you before making his way to the front and wrapping you in a hug that takes you by surprise. It’s over before you can fully register it and then Jake has a hand on your back, beaming at the rest of the room. “Guys, this is Roadie, Javy’s girlfriend!” There’s an awkward silence as Jake’s audience tries to gauge whether he’s lying before the man Jake was speaking to earlier speaks up.

“FAKE girlfriend.” He clarifies and you feel the fire in your cheeks burn even hotter. He’s glaring and it takes you a moment to realize it’s not at you, but at Javy. Jake does his best to disperse the tense moment, saying something to the rest of the team that you don’t hear because you’re focused on the man who spoke up. Before you know it, most of the guys are clearing out of the space and Javy’s letting go of your hand to cross his arms across his chest.

“You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you Bradshaw?” His voice is hard and you can hear the irritation in it. You shift uncomfortably next to him as the other man pushes off the wall where he’s been standing and comes over to the two of you. Jake watches on silently, ready to step in if needed. You can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on a conversation that you have no right to be a part of.

“I can’t? What about you, that’s the reason she’s in this situation in the first place, isn’t it?” You hear it then, the fierce streak of protectiveness in his voice. His gaze drops to you then and all the animosity leaves it as he extends a hand out to you. “Bradley Bradshaw, nice to meet you.”

You take it nervously and he shakes it with a firm grip that somehow manages to ease your nerves. “You already met Bradley’s girlfriend, Zam.” Jake pipes up, doing his best to dissolve the tension still hanging over the room.

“Oh!” You do your best to help Jake out. “She’s really nice.” You do your best to make the compliment seem as genuine as it is, but something tells you it isn’t working. Bradley smiles at that and there’s a wistfulness in his eyes that transforms his face from the harsh presence he’d seemed before.

“That she is.” He says mostly to himself before he straightens. “Good to meet you, Roadie, but I’m late for a meeting.” He pushes past you and Javy and you let him go but Javy doesn’t seem to share the sentiment.

***

“Bradshaw, what the fuck!” Javy snaps at the older man’s back as he follows Bradley down the hallway. He almost crashes into the back of his teammate as Bradley stops suddenly. The door to the break room swinging shut with a muted bang behind him. Bradley rounds on Javy, shoving him against the wall with a swift movement before he gets up into Javy’s space.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bradley snaps and Javy’s caught by surprise. When he doesn’t answer immediately Bradley pushes again. “Look, I know I’ve never said anything about your, quite frankly disgusting, behavior before now but that’s because you were just being irresponsible. But this? This is just plain cruel.” Fury starts to stain Bradley’s cheeks with splotches of angry red. Bradshaw’s always had a temper but Javy hasn’t had many occasions of facing it's brunt. “Now you’ve pulled that poor girl into your mess and she’s going to get hurt.” Javy bristles at that, shoving back against Bradley’s hulking form that’s keeping him pinned to the wall. Sure they both play the same position but Bradley’s built like a brick wall while Javy’s always tended to be on the more slender side so he doesn’t manage to move the older man much.

“She won’t get hurt.” Javy snaps, irritation crackling in his voice like lightning. “I won’t let that happen,” he insists, brows furrowing in frustrated determination.

Bradley answers with a barked laugh of haughty disbelief. “You know I already told Zam she’s crazy for even entertaining this but she seems to agree with you. You’re lucky I trust my wife.” Bradley snaps and Javy’s eyebrows rise in mock curiosity.

“Your WIFE?” He asks in a way that he knows is dangerously teasing. “Something you want to share with the class, Bradshaw?” Sure he’d promised Zam that he’d do his best to stop riling up Bradley but in his defense, the older man had started it. Bradley’s cheeks flush for a different reason this time and Javy feels his grip loosen.

“My girlfriend, you know what I meant.” He snaps but his voice lacks the bite it had earlier.

“Planning on popping the question, Bradshaw?” Javy asks, tilting his head slightly mockingly and Bradley reddens even more.

“That’s none of your business, Machado.” He straightens, releasing Javy from his grasp, and scowls at him. “Mind your own business, and for the love of God, don’t fuck this up. She deserves better than that.” He doesn’t give Javy a chance to respond before he stalks off in the direction of Zam’s office. Javy catches his breath as he uncurls the tight fists his hands have been in. As angry as he is, he can’t blame Bradshaw for his concern because he’s right. You DO deserve better. But unfortunately for you, he’s the best you’ve got right now.

***

Javy invited you to stay and watch practice so you’re perched in a row of seats a distance you’ve deemed safe from the glass and you’re tapping away at your laptop as you review lesson plans for the week and do your best to rework them to make sure Javy can make it to Octopus Stew Day. You’ve been at it for about twenty minutes when you look up to the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs up to where you’ve set up camp. Natasha gives you a wave as she approaches and you close your laptop, smoothing your hands over the top to clasp them in front of you.

“Hey there Roadie, can I join you? I had to finish up a couple of things but I wanted to chat if that’s okay?” You nod and she scoots past you to drop into the seat next to you. “How’re you handling things so far?” She asks, raising a knowing eyebrow at you. “I’ve known Javy for over a decade so bullshitting me isn’t going to work.” Your eyes widen in surprise. “You’ve really known him that long?”

She nods. “We met in high school back in New Orleans. He played for the boys’ hockey team and I played for the girls’. Though we became friends because we were in the same homeroom together. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s probably one of my best friends.” She looks down towards the ice where the players are running drills with a rueful smile. “So,” she turns back to you. “How long have you been a hockey fan?”

You blink back at her stupidly until you realize she’s serious. “I’m not.” You stammer out. “Josie’s been begging me to come to a game with her all season because she thinks I need to get out more, but I don’t know anything about the sport.” Nat doesn’t criticize that but simply adopts a thoughtful expression while she carefully looks you over.

“Do you want to?” She asks, finally, and your brow twists in confusion.

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to know anything about the sport?” She asks simply. “I could teach you if you want. It’s not exactly a necessity per se for a hockey WAG but it certainly doesn’t hurt.”

“What’s a hockey WAG?” You ask, feeling slightly stupid for not knowing, but Nat dismisses that immediately.

“Oh, sorry! A WAG is short for ‘wives and girlfriends.’ You’re a WAG now, technically so you should probably get used to the term. Josie can show you the ropes, she’s got more experience than the rest of the staff girls like Zam and Bugs. She’s the unofficial head of the Dogfighters’s WAGs. I wish I could tell you more about how it all works but that’s not really my wheelhouse, sorry.”

You nod, making a mental note to ask Josie about it later. “Thanks, and yes I’d love to know more about it. That way I’ll have something to talk to Javy about on our date later today.” You’d been trying not to think about it since Zam had mentioned it. She was setting up a press ambush tonight at a restaurant Javy had chosen for your first date.

Nat looks like she’s going to ask you more about that but decides against it and she turns towards the ice, motioning for you to join her. You pull out a notebook and pen from your bag and see Nat smile slightly as you open them, ready to take any notes. “So let’s start with the basics, the things you already know. There’s two teams, two goals, and one puck. The objective is, of course, to score on your opponent’s goal. Now let’s talk about the lineups. Each team is made of four offensive lines, three defensive pairings, and two goalies. The offensive lines and defensive pairings will take turns playing what we call shifts on the ice. At any one point, there should be six players on the ice for each team. One offensive line made up of a center, and two wingers, right and left. One defensive pairing made up of two defensemen. And of course one goalie. Usually, only one goalie plays per game unless the coach decides to swap them out if things are going south or they get injured. The second goalie still gets suited up in their gear and warms up to be ready to swap in for any reason if necessary.”

“Javy is a defenseman,” she adds. “He and Bradley are in a pair together.” She clocks your surprised expression. “I know they don’t exactly get along but it’s been getting better since Bradley started dating Zam. She basically told them they needed to knock it off. If she saw the shit Bradley pulled today she would have given him a dressing-down for sure.” She pauses with a small grin before she sobers again. “He’s not all bad, he’s just got a bad temper and a lot of baggage. He used to be a lot worse but I think he’s finally started healing.” You give an understanding nod.

“Anyway, back to the nitty gritty. Defensemen are, as their name suggests, in charge of defense and preventing the other team from scoring. The offensive players are the center and wingers. The center is usually in the center of attack formations and focuses on the middle of the ice. They pass more than any other player. That’s the position Jake plays,” she explains and you nod as you watch the scrimmage on the ice below you. The wingers support the center and they’re pretty versatile. Some are the goal-scoring types and others excel in playing near the boards and digging the puck out there. Reuben and Mickey are wingers. The goalie, of course, defends the goal, and that’s Bob. I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet.” You shake your head no.

“So those are the positions. It takes a while to get used to watching the lines change, there’s a lot of bodies moving around but I think the next thing to cover would be penalties. There are all kinds of ways to draw penalties but most of them involve physical play. When a player gets a penalty, they have to go into the penalty box. They spend 2 minutes in there for a minor penalty and 5 minutes for a major penalty. While they're in the box, their team must play short-handed. That’s called a penalty-kill for the penalized team since they're trying to kill the penalty by ensuring the opposition doesn’t score, and called a power play for the opposing team since they have the power advantage by having one more player on the ice. There’s also misconduct and game misconduct penalties that work differently but let’s just start here and hope you never have to learn about those.” She gives you a rueful grin and you smile back, nervously.

“I think that’s enough for lesson one. Next time we can talk about the offside rule. If you have any questions you can ask me,” she reaches over to take the pen from your hand scribbles her phone number into the margin. “Of course you could also ask Josie, Javy, or anyone else around here. And, of course, there’s always good old-fashioned Google.”

She settles next to you and the two of you watch practice and Nat explains what’s going on down on the ice and you interrupt with questions when you have them. You may not be able to follow a game yet, but you think you’ll be able to hold a conversation over dinner. So far, Javy has mostly focussed on asking you questions and you’re hoping to return the favor tonight and make sure you’re prepared to field any personal questions that are sure to be thrown your way at work as your colleagues continue to investigate your newly-unveiled relationship. You’re hoping the photos that will come out tonight will sate their interest but if you know anything about them, it’ll just feed the fire of curiosity. You need to get ready for war.

A/N: Who’s ready for their first date??? What kind of shenanigans do we expect to ensue?

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 12

Masterlist

Warnings: nothing, not a damn thing 🤭

There's a near painful casualness to the joyful way you greet him in the morning.

Standing by his car, arms crossed, his impassive expression seems to lighten when he catches sight of you leaving your apartment.

"Hey Billy!" You say, noting the subtle way his hands flex when he reaches for your door, opening it for you.

He says your name in return, a low sound, that goes straight down to your toes and back up before stopping in your chest.

You smile, thanking him as you duck into the passenger seat of his car, automatically pulling on your seatbelt.

You're vibrating with excitement, maybe too much, the knowledge that he touched himself while watching you gives you a power you didn't know you craved until now.

"I hope your night wasn't too bad." You knowingly tease, watching him swallow as he begins driving.

"It was actually pretty decent," he murmurs, eyes fixed forward, focused on the road, "Though, one of my neighbors gave me quite an eyeful."

You already have your response locked and loaded.

"Oh no," you murmur with false sympathy, "Must have been quite a shock."

"It was."

You hum, nodding your head.

"I guess, that's kind of a consequence of having neighbors." You turn to eye him, "Sometimes you just see things."

He spares you a glance, your expression calm and polite, as if you didn't touch yourself with your curtains open for him to see last night.

"Maybe you're right." He concedes.

"Of course I am."

He smiles.

.

"How have you two not fucked yet." Dani says, deep in thought.

"I don't knooooow." You whine, flopping onto your couch with a huff.

After thinking for a moment, you speak.

"Maybe he just doesn't like me." Your voice is muffled in the couch but she hears you anyway.

"We're not looking at this the right way." Dani suddenly says, which makes you raise your head curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when he first offered you the job, didn't you specifically say that you wouldn't take the job if he wanted to fuck you?"

You groan, burying your head back into your couch.

Was this what it had come to? Your own words being thrown back at you?

"Yes." You answer.

"So what if this is just him doing what you asked."

You let out another frustrated sound.

"You're telling me that I'm the reason I'm not getting fucked senseless right now?"

"...Yes?" Dani says, a little chuckle escaping her when she sees you wriggle angrily on the couch.

"What do I doooooo." You fake cry, raising your head to give Dani your best sad face.

She leans forward, a brightness in her eyes, that gets your undivided attention.

"Here are your options, one, turn up the heat, flirt with him, wear prettier clothes, make him notice you. Option two, get him jealous, turn your attention on someone else and then see if he tries harder to keep you close. Lastly," She leans back, steeples her fingers like the mastermind she is, "forget about him and maybe actually move on because there is a possibility that he's just not that into you."

You groan in frustration.

You didn't like any of those options, wearing nicer things meant being noticed by not only Billy, but other people too. Making him jealous implied that you had to be willing to get to know another person, which you were not.

And forgetting about him? Is probably what you should have done from the start.

"Can't I just parade naked in front of my windows for the foreseeable future?" You ask, watching as Dani's focused expression morphs into a grin.

"You could, but I doubt it would get you fucked."

You swallow.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you would have been fucked by now."

Oh, how you hated when she was right.

.

"I overslept I'm so sorry." Is what you say to Billy when he sees you, rushing out of your aparment building. You do look slightly disheveled, as if you didn't have time to smooth your look into perfection like you usually do.

He smiles, opening his car door for you as usual, and listening to the breathless way you thank him.

When he gets into the car, he can still hear your overzealous breathing.

"You're alright," he tries to reassure you, "It's okay to be a few minutes late."

"Sorry, I just- I'm sorry if you were waiting long."

"It's okay, no need to apologize." He finishes, turning on his indicator so he can pull out onto the street.

"Do you mind- is it okay if I finish doing my makeup?" You ask, he can hear the worry still laced in your voice.

"Yes, of course," he says, keeping his voice even, trying to soothe you.

You breathe another word of thanks before pulling out your mascara from your bag.

Billy fights the urge to watch, with rapt facination. He finds the idea of it intriguing. He's curious to see your little routine, wonders how much it would differ from his own.

He quietly loves the domesticity of it all, him driving to work while you feel comfortable enough around him to apply your makeup.

At a traffic light, he can't resist turning to look at you.

You glance back, touching up your mascara before closing it.

"What?" You ask, rummaging in your bag for something else.

You're beautiful, he wants to say, with and without makeup.

Out loud he says,

"I'm just fascinated by the process."

You smile at him.

His heart stops when you pull out a tube of red lipstick.

It's not just red, red is an understatement. It's crimson, it's burgundy, it's the colour of spilt blood on fresh snow.

He swallows as you swipe the wand over the pout of your lips.

When someone blares their horn, he turns his head back to the road, driving off when he realises the lights have turned green.

He tries not to look, worries he might get lost in it.

The predator stirs within him, demanding he stop torturing them both.

He takes a shuddering breath.

"Are you okay?"

He's unable to respond, eyes fixed on the road.

The beast thinks about how the shade would look smeared across your mouth.

"Billy?" You say, concern heavy in your voice.

He sighs.

"I'm fine."

He's not.

.

It's a fast drive to work, and he avoids looking at you the rest of the way there.

When he parks, and you get out, he's already walking away from you, heading in the direction of the basement security booth, directly opposite from the elevators.

"See you this evening." Is all he says, not even sparing you a glance back.

You huff.

.

An emergency conference meeting puts you in his path once more.

There's an hour till lunch, and Billy tries not to fidget as he waits patiently for you and the rest of his team to show up.

He hears you laughing with someone outside as you draw nearer to the meeting room and his mood sours further.

When he sees you, he almost wants to fucking collapse.

Your mouth draws his attention, the vibrant shade catches his eye, makes his stomach flip.

You smile at him, and he nods evenly in return, looking down at his phone, trying to distract himself from staring at you.

Your mouth is divine, he wants to lean in, press his mouth to yours, feel the desire build inside of him until it has nowhere to go but out. He wants to rub his nose against yours, he wants your lipstick smeared across his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, his chest, his cock-

"Mister Russo?"

He doesn't startle, simply moves his eyes to stare firmly at the man that dared interrupt him from his thoughts of you.

The man in question swallows.

"What do you think?"

He sucks in a deep breath.

Turning to look at you, you meet his gaze head on.

God, that's a lot of fire.

"I'm assuming you can justify your actions?" Billy says to you.

"Of course I can." You say evenly, confident, like you know exactly what you're doing and everyone else is just in the way.

"Well?"

The corner of your lip twitches, you were just playing with everyone in the room, weren't you?

You turn to look at Phil, his IT managing director.

"If I told you what I was going to do, you would have taken action to stop me. Even indirectly, sometimes just the knowledge of a potential security breach would put you on edge, which puts your team on edge. The best attack is one done unexpectedly."

Phil shakes his head.

"You're the person designing the system, you work here, of course you're going to understand how to get around our protocols."

You pause for a moment, looking right at Phil, who, to Billy's credit, doesn't show any outward expression, despite the scent of intimidation rolling off of him.

You're playing with him, and you look so much like a predator in this moment that Billy feels his heart swell.

"It sounds to me, that you're making the assumption that security breaches are only ever going to come from people who lack the skills to beat the system. And while, sure, majority may not have the skill, we need to consider the possibility that one day, someone might."

Phil is unable to form a rebuttal, and after a minute he mutters.

"Someone should at least know when you plan to rip into the same system you design."

You nod, clicking your pen and pulling out your notepad to write something down.

"Noted. I'll send Mr. Russo a heads up."

Phil turns to look at him, and Billy feels the need to placate both parties.

"Not to worry, I understand the systems are still being set up and understood. Hopefully, we come out of this stronger."

He nods at both of you, feels a little bit more proud of what he's building.

"Have a good lunch." Phil bids, before walking out of the conference room.

You reel on him as soon as the door clicks shut, eyes full of passion that it startles him.

"Holy fucking shit Billy I just came up with the best fucking idea."

He stares at your animated form for a second, before he can't contain his humour, tilting his head back and laughing.

"There's no time for laughing, Russo! Get it together- look-" You move across to his side of the table, right into his space and drops your little notepad into the spot in front of him.

He squints, but your passionate handwriting makes zero sense.

"Did you make a note to tell me before you try to break into my system?"

He looks at you, your expression moves from one of excitement to confusion.

"What? No- fuck that- I mean, respectfully, sure I'll warn you but-" You glance down at the notepad, while he continues to just look at you.

"I've been thinking about it for a while, what if someone really good tries to hack the system? Better than me I mean."

Billy is seriously doubting at this point that there is anyone better than you.

"If we make it look like it's reasonably difficult, someone trying to get access won't question it. Someone smarter, will just think that we lack the brain power for a sophisticated system."

His eyes draw to your mouth, he's trying hard to focus but some of his essential blood supply is currently making his cock swell.

"So you're suggesting, we offer a fake room full of information to hide the real room?"

"Yesssss," You hiss happily, looking down before tapping your pen to your mouth.

The universe has no mercy for him, he watches the pen smudge your lipstick.

It's beyond him, he can't stop himself, his hands reach up to cup either side of your face.

You make a little sound of surprise, being distracted from your complicated thought processes, suddenly focused on him.

Your eyes are wide, and fixed right on him. He takes pleasure in that, wants your focus on him, and him alone.

.

His hands are warm, as usual, holding your face gently as he looks at you.

Was this it? Was he going to kiss you?

He sighs, takes a step closer so that your bodies are right against each others.

Your stomach flips, you almost want to beg.

"This colour is beautiful on you." He murmurs finally, his thumb reaching out to swipe gently at the edge of your bottom lip.

Your breath catches, you think about taking his thumb into your mouth.

Your brain stalls as you stare at him.

He tilts his head, smiles, deep in thought.

"What do we say?"

"What?"

"When someone gives a compliment, what do we say?"

"Th- thank you." You stutter out.

Ever patient, he nods.

"Good girl."

Your mouth parts in shock.

He pulls his hands away, taking a step back.

"Enjoy your lunch." He bids, before leaving you alone in the conference room with parted lips and damp underwear.

.

You lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, fingers curled around your necklace, deep in thought.

You wonder who the panther is, wondering if you knew them at all.

You try to turn it over in your head but there's too many things you don't know, and not enough information.

You don't even know where to start looking for this information, searches online giving no real help beyond the realm of fantasy.

But this wasn't fantasy anymore, shapeshifters were real, a fact.

It made the world that much more dangerous.

Or maybe not, considering that most of your troubles had come from human roots anyway.

You sigh, rolling over, and sucking in a deep breath when you come face to face with the panther.

You raise your head, looking around.

Had you fallen asleep?

The panther hums to get your attention, leaning in until the top of his head brushes your cheek.

"Hey kitty." You greet softly, hearing the rough purring start up as the panther settles its body next to yours.

You sigh softly, pressing your face into his fur, giving his ear a little kiss, and feeling it flick gently.

His tail smacks against your knee as it waves in a haphazard direction.

You smile, tossing an arm over his back, sighing in bliss when you can almost feel the softness of his fur like he's really here with you.

You lay like that for a bit, on your side, curled against the panther when suddenly a human hand reaches for you.

It grips your jaw, turns your head up and away from the panther.

Billy, with warm fingers and a gentle smile, doesn't hesitate to lay his mouth across yours.

You groan, pressing your head up and firmer against his mouth, desperate for a taste of him.

He pulls back for a moment, before giving you another quick kiss and he's gone, leaving you tucked against the panther for the rest of the night.

You wake up in the morning, curled around a pile of your pillows, disoriented, looking around for your panther before the realisation hits you, that you'd only been dreaming.

.

.

.

[the-odd-devil]

Gods and Good Boys

Homelander x f!reader

Summary : You know something is wrong, a simple image management employee has nothing to do in this fancy lounge at the highest of Vought tower. When Homelander enters the room with a satisfied smile, you know you’re fucked. The rumors you've heard about him and his constant presence at your office do nothing to help get him out of your head but will certainly help you get out of this situation, or maybe make it worse.

Word Count : 4 042

Warnings : !!! minors DNI !!!, non-con/dub-con, sexual harassment, canon-typical violence, blood, death, smut, mommy kink, degrading, sub!Homelander, dom!reader (let me know if I forgot any)

Author's Note : So first fic eh? More specifically, it’s the first time I've written fanfiction in English, but I loved it so much! Much more than my native language for some reason? Anyway I had the best time ever writing Homelander, he is so fun to write (even more when he’s a sub oops), hope you will have fun reading it too!

 But before the Big Boy™ I want to give a big big BIG thank you to @mietkoz and @finniestoncrane for proofreading the fic and being sweethearts, they really hyped me up and makes me want to write more! <3 Another big big BIG thank you to @spicedchaiandromeda and @just-call-me-angel who inspired me a lot to write and were so nice to me <3 

Hope you’ll like it!

This whole thing was weird as fuck. Two people, who you immediately guessed that they were a lot more important than you, had brought you and this other Vought employee, in this fancy lounge decorated with expensive stuff. The price of the furniture did nothing to make the room more appealing, it felt empty and cold. They left you and the other girl in the middle of it. While looking at each other, you remembered seeing her at some office inside the tower, her name being Grace and being in a similar post as you at Vought, she was in a high level of stress, picking her nails and looking generally concerned about why you were here. Honestly, you were concerned too, random office workers at Vought have nothing to do at the highest of the tower, but your mind was empty, not knowing what to expect.  

You hear clicking heels coming to the door from the hallway and soon Ashley is standing right in front of both of you, a fake and uptight smile on her lips and an all too much joyful tone. 

“So, I suppose you know why you’re here!”

You and the other girl look at each other with a questioning expression before looking back at Ashley.

“You’re gonna have an interview with Homelander!” she said while doing a little forced cheering movement.

Ah yes, Homelander. You’ve seen him more than once in the office area explaining to employees what they have to do and sticking his nose in other people’s business. With his fake smile and false sympathy. You know and everyone knows that he’s close to a no return point at every second, ready to turn the room into ashes. What you really think about the fucker is another story tho. You first didn’t think much about him, in your department, the supes are more of a product than anything, you don’t really see them as a person anymore, even more when you’re the one who has to cover their “mistakes”, if killing innocents can be considered as a mistake. You prefer not to think about him in particular, even if you know only the surface level about what he’d done, aka, what you have to deal with and then dilute for the press ; seeing him in person, close to you, looking at you, is totally different. He did nothing that would be considered “abnormal”, at least, for him, in the office. He tries to play it cool, be the nice guy, but his sudden voice bursts betray him. 

What really scares you is what he makes you feel. Things that you prefer ignoring. He undressed you with his eyes or made prolonged eye contact more than once and you couldn’t refrain from the heat that you felt. The asshole had a really pretty face and a shark smile, the way his expressions distort oscillating between rage, pure distress and complete emptiness made you imagine how you could completely break him with just a few sentences and how he could annihilate you in a blink of an eye. The thoughts of you possibly dominating this god-like figure have kept you awake more than once. 

“Did we do something wrong?” Grace says timidly, you could hear how anxious she was.

“Oh no no no! He just wants a new “assistant” and asked me if he could see you in private.” you could hear the fake enthusiasm and the quotation marks in Ashley’s tone. 

The word “assistant”, isn’t a good omen for where this situation is going, you know how perverted Homelander, and the vast majority of the supes are, and you’re thinking that being fired isn’t that horrible after all.

“Anyway! Try to make a good impression!” Ashley says before making her way to the door.

“Wait? You’re gonna let us here??” your voice makes you suddenly aware how much you were panicking.

“Yes? I’m not the one choosing.” she says, a frown across her face before finally leaving.

And there you are, Grace and you standing in the middle of this Vought’s lounge, clearly design for la crème de la crème of those who enters the tower, not knowing what the fuck is gonna happen when Homelander is going to join you. 

He probably was waiting for Ashley to inform him that you were here because he arrived shortly after she left, you even suspect him of waiting next to the room and most certainly watching and listening since you were here. He enters the room and closes the door, placing the key on one of the tables next to the couch before putting his hands behind his back, a pleased smile on his face and places himself in front of both of you, making direct eye contact with Grace and then with you. Grace instantly looked away but you couldn’t stop looking in his icy blue eyes. It feels like the eye contact is during an eternity, none of you looking away. He breaks the contact when he is starting to speak after clapping once in his hands, making Grace and you jump.

“So, what did Ashley tell you?”

You were growing more and more confuse with this whole situation, what the fuck does he want? 

“Come on girls! Speak!” he says, elevating his voice and clapping his hands. There it is, his constant struggle at keeping his calm. Grace was mortified and you answer Homelander, hesitation visible in your face and voice :

“She told us about an assistant thing…”

“Oh yeah… You know, days are a little bit boring sometimes…”

You look at him while he starts pacing in the room, getting closer to you and Grace. When he’s close enough, he starts petting Grace's hair like a dog and turns his head to look at your side. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek, too afraid to turn your head and look at him in the eyes when he is this close to you. He withdraws his hand from Grace’s hair to start stroking your cheek instead.

“I just can’t decide which one of you I’m going to fuck on a daily basis.”

You can see his fucking smile in your peripheral vision, well aware of the power his holding on the situation. Your breath is stuck in your throat, your vision is starting to blur, your blood runs cold, you feel like your soul just left your body and you’re not able to move anymore. You're out of your paralyzed state when you see and hear Grace running to the door and starting pulling on it in panic, unable to unlock it. You watch the action with eyes wide open, panicking more and more but unable to move or react, knowing too well that this situation is about to get worse. You know Homelander too much to know that showing him signs of resilience is a very very bad idea. He grabs your chin so hard that it hurts you, turning your head in order that you face him again. His eyes are closed and he lightly shakes his head, he seems disappointed as if a little kid just did something wrong and he’s about to reprimand them. Grace is still trying to open the door in panic and starts to cry some “please!”, “let me go!”, “please”, Homelander just turns his head looking at her with some disappointment, still holding you before melting her head with his laser eyes. 

Her body falls to the ground, headless. You contain the screams who are holding in your throat, so much that your body begins to contract. Your eyes are burning, holding tears in a terrorized expression. Homelander turns his face, having a sweet forced smile, looking at you like he was proud of you being an obedient girl who listens to him. You feel sick. He hums, approaching his face even more, you could feel the vibration in his throat. 

“I guess it means that you’re the one I choose.

SO!”

The fact that his expression is changing once more, so rapidly into something completely different, has always scares you, today, more than anything. You don’t know what to expect next. His now happy and calm expression and the fact he starts pacing again in the room only calms you slightly, leaving you some time to think of what to do next. 

He ends up facing you, a few feet away, his smile still on his face. It is the kind of smile you know is pacific, that nothing will happen to you if you do right. It is comforting in some way. Some agonizing seconds pass, before he finally says something. 

“What are you waiting for? Show me.” 

You didn’t expect that. Not the abrupt demand but the tone of his voice. Very deep and low, vibrating through your core. All the deep, filthy feelings you have for him are coming back to the surface. His fucking gaze, looking right through you with lust and envy, his satisfied smile who knows he can have everything he wants. You’ve noticed every time he passes by your office. You were sure you were imagining things, you are now certain that everything he did was on purpose. This wasn’t a wet dream anymore. Homelander was here, waiting for you to make the first move, if you didn’t, you'd end up like Grace whose blood was spreading across the fancy carpet of the lounge. 

You compose yourself, sniffing the results of the tears in your eyes, trying to make the feeling you had when you saw him at your office fully resurface.  

He often went into the offices of your department, putting his nose in everything. You thrived on the view every time. Even knowing everything he’s done, you couldn’t stop looking at him. Not only do you find him beautiful, but when he comes to your floor he always has his worried puppy face. He seems so sad and anxious wanting to know if the public still loves him, seeing him in this state makes you hot all over. 

One day, he ends up noticing your glances, you can only also guess that your expression said a lot more than you wished, and till that day he began visiting your desk every time he came down here. 

It was mostly light teasing, and you understand now, flirting. You thought he didn’t mean much until today. It seems that he finds making people uncomfortable funny. You would have never guessed it meant anything. You were always flustered nonetheless. 

Most of the time, he exaggeratedly bent next to you to watch your computer screen, his mouth ending up to be impossibly close to your ear, where he whispered saying some uninteresting shit about what’s on the screen, most of the time, he didn’t even know what he saw meant, and you didn't really listened to him anyway, his low and deep voice reverberating down to your core. You remember your mind spiraling and only being able to concentrate on the wetness in your panties. Sometimes in the blur of his sayings, you could recall him calling you pretty, or lightly degrading you, it only made you spiral even more. 

Being in the break room instead of your desk didn't stop him from harassing you, or whispering in your ear. He looked at you like a prey, you were his prey everytime he went to the office. You should have called sexual harassment. You didn’t. You know it wouldn’t change anything, you thought he was like that with everyone. Even one of your colleagues suggested it. She knew damn well that there is absolutely no point of doing that.

You usually just didn't respond to him, just getting more and more red and wet, sometimes swallowing and letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Except the last time he came to see you in the break room. 

It started like usual, the usual being him spotting you in the break room and immediately entering and sticking to you, pressing his torso against your back and his lips against your ear. You could see and feel his hand every time, hesitating to go on your hips. He began whispering in your ear, a lot nicer than all the other times, things like “you’re so pretty today”, “let me buy you another coffee”, “we can go to a calmer place if you want”... You were already red and wet from the few sentences and his proximity. When he bent over to take a hot chocolate your breath stopped. You could feel him already getting hard on your ass. 

He took his drink and went to sit on the break room table. You couldn’t help but watch him across the room. He was delighted seeing your red face and your look filled with lust and shame. 

He slapped on his thigh two times, calling you like a child : 

“Come sit with me.”

 You took the closest seat to him, hypnotized, incapable of thinking or saying anything. Your cup of coffee was trembling in your hand. Attentively, you watched him take a mouthful of his chocolate milk. He took so much milk so rapidly that some was left on the corner of his mouth. 

The satisfied look on his face and his unusually soft smile made you lose your mind. You didn’t even had time to realize what you were doing, that your hand was already cupping his cheek and your thumb was gently whipping off the cream on his face. 

His surprised look was rapidly replaced by a look of pure bliss, his head leaning on your hand, his eyes closing and his mouth slightly opening while he exhaled a long breath. You couldn’t recall if you had an orgasm right then, seeing him so submissive in the palm on your hand ; an electric shock went through your body, you feel like you blacked out and next thing you know you were splashing cold water on your face in the closest bathroom, hyperventilating. You could see your mascara running on your cheeks, asking yourself how you were gonna explain your current state to your colleagues. 

You don’t remember the rest of this day, but you remember him, staying in the break room, his hand caressing where yours was, watching you leave with puppy eyes, his puppy eyes that were the only thing you could think of the following days. You remember thinking of the rumor. The rumor that made you so horny you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom. The one about Homelander you’ve heard the first month you’ve been working in Vought : about  how particular his relationship with Madelyn Stillwell, the ex-Senior Vice President of Hero Management, was. You remember finishing on your toy that night, this idea and what happened leaving your mind running free. 

You know what to do, you know what he wants. There is no other choice, you’ll give it to him while refusing to admit to yourself that you want it too. 

He is in front of you, a small smirk on his lips, challenging you. You feel like a deer catched in headlights feeling so small in front of him standing straight up and looking down on you. You take a few seconds composing yourself, taking a deep breath. You know exactly what he wants and you were going to give it to him. His expression changes as he sees you fake confidence, questioning but still challenging; you look at him through your lashes, a devious smile on your lips. You took a few steps until you were facing him, close enough to hear his breathing speeding a bit. 

You bring slowly your hand to his cheek, locking your eyes on his face, trying your best to look both sweet and flirty. Your heart skips a beat, your breath shaking slightly. You feel like your body is on autopilot while there is a storm in your mind.  His eyes are following the action, eager for some contact. Once your hand is cupping his cheek, you start to stroke lightly with your thumb. Homelander directly melts into your touch, leaning into your hand ,closing his eyes and slightly opening his mouth, bliss and release across his face. He let out a deep breath while relaxing into your hold, he was looking like an asleep kitten, almost purring in your hand. You try to keep your composure, feeling your stomach dropping at the sight of this god-like being turning into putty to your touch, making you feel so powerful. Your confidence level being higher seeing his soft expression, you decided to lean more into the situation. You approach him till your mouth is the closest possible to his ear.

“You really need someone to take care of you mh?”

The shaky whimper he let out makes you tremble. Even knowing the rumors, and witnessing a glimpse of it before, being in first line, and being the one who made him whimper makes you weak and you could already feel yourself getting wet. You continue stroking his cheek, drinking in his reactions.  You’ve always liked how expressive he is, the tiny movement of his face while he is losing himself in pleasure sends you into a loop as you whisper again in his ear : 

“You look so lonely… Poor boy… Don’t worry, mommy’s gonna take care of you.”

You put your other hand in his blond hair, feeling them on your fingers and appreciating how soft they are. You’re totally losing yourself now, hypnotized by his trembling, almost whining voice : 

“Yes! Yes please…”

Any sense of logic leaves your mind as you hear his voice, lust now controlling you. You move your hand to put his chin in your palm and start tracing his lips with your thumb, his mouth opening in a silent moan. You can’t help putting your finger in his mouth. He immediately closes it and starts sucking on your thumb. You don’t control the little moan escaping your mouth, making him moan too, unable to restrain. You start to unconsciously rube your thighs, eager for some contact and relief. Your eyes leave his face and meet his crotch, his dick hard. Your pussy throbbing at the sight and size. Homelander is still lost in the moment, punctuating his sucking with little moans who make you weak.

You can’t resist touching his dick anymore and took your hand out of his face, leaving his mouth empty making him whine at the loss. 

“You’re so eager… Mh? Pretty boy…”

You finish your sentence with your hand ghosting over him, feeling his length, making him groan at both your praise and the feather-like touch before thrusting his hips to fully meet you.  You tut and shake your head :

“You’re really disappointing mommy, baby…” 

Punctuating your sentence with a sad pout. You see his face contracting and looking up, while he moves back his body, as he concentrates to obey you. 

“That’s my good boy.”

His focused face stretches into a proud smile, still looking up, scared that looking at you will make him lose control. 

You smile too, satisfied and shocked by how well you can make him obey you. You apply more pressure, stroking him as you see his expressions tighten. He is trying so hard to keep composure, you don’t know if you will be able to contain yourself too, his almost pained face making you feel closer and closer even if he still hasn't touched you, hands in fist at his sides, waiting for an order to start touching you . 

You suddenly cut off all contact, Homelander making the saddest and most pathetic whine at the loss, lowering his head to look in your eyes, wanting to know what he did wrong.  

“What’s wrong baby?”

Another whine escapes his mouth, urging you to touch him again. You lock eyes, look and voice assertive : 

“Get on that couch.”

He doesn’t think twice and sits on the couch next to you, his eyes are glossy, filled with lust as he looks at you like a puppy waiting for approbation after doing a trick.

“Come on, lay down.” 

He does as you say, you can hear his heavy breath as he waits for more. You approach him like a predator, and sit on his lap, he whimpers at the contact of your pussy, feeling both of your wetness on his costume. You start moving your hips languidly, making him groan. You want more friction, to start moving quicker, you’ve been waiting for some form of release for so long ; but you’re determined to watch him completely lose himself beneath you.  

You continue your agonizing movements (for both of you), the room starting to echo both of your moans. You’re very glad that this lounge has one-way windows, but you doubt the fine glass will be enough to muffle both of your screams. You don’t really care at this point though, the gossip that may happen in the tower being insignificant over the power and the pleasure you are feeling in this instant. Plus, everybody will know anyway considering Homelander reputation, and, oh yeah, the dead body still emptying itself from his blood next to you, but who you totally forgot, your mind clearly elsewhere. 

Your head tossed backward, eyes closed, the sweet moans of Homelander starting to sound more and more demanding, the friction of the his dick on your clothed and wet mount making you lose control, you almost jump when you feel his hands grabbing your waist using his superhuman force to make you move quicker. 

“Did I allow you to touch me?”

Your strict voice makes him stop all movement. He closes his mouth and rapidly shakes his head, hands still on your waist. You furrow your brows harder making him quickly withdraw his hand. You pick back up your previous pace, making him open his mouth again.

“I thought you were mommy’s good boy… Seems like you’re just a dumb slut…”

The whine he lets out is louder than any of the preceding ones, making a deep, sadistic smile grow on your lips and your hips moving faster. You can feel your climax being closer and closer, finally getting some relief. 

“You can touch mommy now…” 

You say at the same time a moan escapes your lips. He places both of his hands on the top of your hips, following your movement as he catches the rhythm with his. 

“You’re such a pretty slut, doing what mommy says.”

His moans are louder at every degradation and praise. 

Your climax coming closer and closer as you can feel his, you start muttering incoherent degrading praises making him moan and buckle his hips at each one of them. Your movements begin to be uncoordinated as you can feel your orgasm arriving with full force, as Homelander’s are becoming more and more brutal. In a final thrust, you feel his dick twitch and release in his costume as you continue riding him pursuing your own high, making him whine at the over stimulation. Your orgasm follows quickly after, a wave of pleasure you’ve never felt before spreading all over your body, making your eyes rolling and watering and your body uncontrollably shivering. 

You fall down to his chest, both of you catching your breath. Once your heart is catching an almost normal beating, you lift your head and give him a soft and chaste kiss on his cheek.

“You did great.”

Before leaving him completely spent on the couch, still catching his breath, a wet spot on his crotch. You smile to yourself seeing him in this disheveled state, making a mental image for future nights by yourself.You take the key on the small table and pull down your skirt while walking to the door, hoping that it will be long enough to cover how wet the top of your legs are. You give one more look at the decapitated body of Grace, trying not to step on the blood, before opening the door and leaving the lounge and going to the bathroom, and then leave the tower, your mind still not recording what happened nor trying to figure out what all of that means for the future.