#real fucking annoying at this point and I just don’t know how much longer I can handle this shit because I’ve been on this short tiny thin

[the-casbah-way]

i feel like everyone is going to eventually get annoyed at me for still being sad about simba or still talking about it but posting abt it is easier than telling someone because i don’t know how to do that and i’d rather be annoying here where people can scroll past and ignore it and not feel obligated to reply

[the-stray-pup]

[saerins]

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.5k | content: fluff, pining, mentions of fake dating, jealousy, reader is kind of an idiot, sae loves to tease, best friend otoya, cussing

notes: hello hello i’m on board the sae love train once more , are you guys still with me ^_^

summary: what do you do when your best friend kind of sort of forces you to confess your two-year long crush when you’re not ready to? pray and hope for the best.

“i could just tell him for you.”

“eita, fuck no,” you throw him a warning glare as you chop the vegetables up with scary precision despite not having an eye on them. only because you know if you don’t explicitly tell him not to, that he’d think it’s no big deal and do it anyway.

and let’s say, you’d rather die than let that happen.

sure, you and sae had been closer back in high school; he sat behind you and entertained the secret notes you passed to him, he used to ruffle the top of your head whenever you pouted, he used to buy food for you during breaks.

but that’s all in the past and somehow, the both of you had drifted since then.

otoya deadpans, an unamused pair of eyes looking back at you from their spot across the island. “it’s been what, four fucking years since you graduated? grow a pair,” he retorts, attempting to steal a carrot but getting a slap on the back of his hand instead.

“bold of you to say that to a girl with a knife,” you snap at him, pointing the blade at his face.

to which he merely rolls his eyes, using two fingers to push it aside. “not like you’re that good at using it.” but he sighs when you silently turn your attention back to chopping vegetables. “does that mean i have to put up with your miserable face even longer?”

you and otoya continue to bicker, and you’re beginning to wonder how you’ve tolerated being best friends with him for the past four years. he’s a real piece of work.

“fine, fine,” otoya grumbles after you’re done with lunch, bangs over his eyes. “i promise i won’t tell sae anything, okay?”

that’s after you threatened not to let him hijack your house anymore for food. for someone who’s earning big bucks being a famous soccer player, you can’t make sense of why he won’t just get food delivered. maybe he just likes to annoy you.

“good. or else i’ll kill you.”

your crush on itoshi sae has been somewhat dormant for the past few years. and by dormant you mean that you haven’t tried making any moves because you’re too scared.

itoshi sae. one of the most famous international breakout stars in soccer. one of the most talented playmakers the world has ever seen. that comes with its own sets of pros and cons.

pros? he definitely doesn’t seem like he has much trouble doing anything he wants. he gets paid for every game. he gets paid for gigs. he gets sponsorships all over the place. which basically means that financially, he doesn’t need to give a shit.

cons? the media can be brutal. sae does something that’s remotely questionable and they’re all over it. he doesn’t thank a waiter that one time? automatically labeled as a rude brat by the paparazzi. and not to mention—the amount of girls he’s forced to fake date just for the sake of publicity.

you’re mostly pressed on that last part though, because they’re all supermodels or olympic stars or rich socialites. and compared to them, well, you’re just someone who happens to be in the same friend group and hang out together every once in a while when he’s back in japan. sae doesn’t even hang out much with the group, to your dismay.

it’s a pain, or so he says.

you wonder how you drifted in the first place. maybe it’s just the fame. you wonder if he thinks of you too sometimes.

must be your wishful thinking.

kind of makes you wonder whether he does have a secret girlfriend that he’s keeping from everyone. you wouldn’t really put it past him. it’s not like he has any super deep emotional bonds with any of you (that you know of). eita says he’s definitely single, but you think he’s just saying that to appease you. he already has his hands full having to watch you mope whenever you see news of sae and another girl and yet another dating rumor.

just as well. you think sae could do better than you, spending your friday nights at home, washing dishes at the sink and looking out at the tokyo skyline instead of out partying and living life with countless friends.

you don’t think you’re too shabby though. you’re a fresh graduate with a job at one of the most prestigious companies in tokyo you can think of. it’s not bad. but you can’t help but feel it’s worlds away from the one sae lives in.

the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts, nearly dropping the white marble plate you’re washing. your eyes snap to the clock in the living room. it’s almost 9pm—right about the time when eita usually comes knocking and asking you for supper.

groaning, you wash whatever’s left of the dish soap away from your hands and sloppily dry them against the bottom of your shirt, grumbling out loud about how you really should stop coming here whenever the fuck you want, eita while you stomp over to the front door.

you open the door, messy hair and bare face and baggy clothes, fully expecting to smack some sense into otoya eita when you feel yourself freeze up at the pair of eyes looking back at you.

they’re teal and framed by pretty long lashes and definitely don’t belong to your best friend.

what the fuck is he doing here?

this is one of the rare times that you’d actually prefer to see eita at your front door instead.

sae raises a brow, giving you a once-over. of course, he’s never seen you in this state—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, not a trace of makeup on your face. you’d made sure that whenever there was a possibility that sae would see you that you dressed yourself up as nice as possible. if you’d known he was coming over, you’d have at least dressed decently. definitely not baggy shirt and pants that you can barely see.

“uh… w-what are you doing here?” stupid, but the best you can manage.

he has his hands in his gray sweat pockets, and fuck him for wearing a black compression top. you can just make out the outline of his abs under there, the muscles on his arms already much too obvious with those short sleeves.

“dunno, eita said there was an emergency and i needed to get here,” sae says, wholly unbothered, monotonous as usual. he lets himself in, toeing his shoes off at the entryway, positioning them neatly beside your everyday sneakers.

fucking eita.

judging by what you know, sae was probably on his way for an evening jog when otoya called him. he still has his wireless earbuds in. you wonder if anything’s even playing.

sae takes it off once he catches you staring.

he’s not carrying anything. it’s just him. you wonder if anyone managed to catch him coming over. is his most recent pr stunt already over? won’t do either of you any good if he’s labeled as a cheater.

“so? what is it?” sae asks you, again, while he walks himself inside, curious eyes looking around your apartment, and suddenly you’re hyper aware. you hope to god you didn’t leave any of your inner wear lying around at random places.

in a panic, you rush over to him, blocking his path inside, both hands on his chest as you attempt to push him back to the front door. unfortunately for you, sae’s much stronger than you are, his body not budging an inch.

“it’s nothing, he made a mistake,” you sigh, giving up when you figure that sae’s only going to move of his own accord. “he’s probably just playing a prank on you, that’s all.”

you’re hoping, praying, wishing that sae will just take your word for it and go. because that’s what he does; he doesn’t hover much, doesn’t care about anything much at all. you don’t even know the last time he’s asked about how any of your lives are doing.

the world must hate you though, because sae only offers a grunt in response before looking towards your kitchen (you’re internally sighing in relief, glad that you cleaned your kitchen up before this). “i’m thirsty, you have anything to drink?”

you blink at him, stumped that sae is wasting his precious time in your apartment, but who are you to say no to sae, of all people?

“yeah, sure, juice?”

sae shrugs, “whatever.”

you turn your back on him, slowly taking your carton of apple juice and finding the nicest glass that exists in your cupboard, cursing yourself internally for not preparing for unexpected guests enough. you do this slowly partly because you’re trying to calm your stupid heart down, still not fathoming why on earth sae’s wasting his time with you.

carefully, you rehearse yourself in your head, where you’re going to step, how you’re going to walk over to him—you really are just hopeless. count it your bad luck that the moment you turn around, you nearly drop the glass because you’re forgetting a really fundamental issue here: your merch.

“no no no, uh—” you leave the glass on the countertop, scurrying over to where sae’s staring and thumbing at something on your coffee table.

sae looks at your flustered reaction, giving you way to grab your things off the table and stuff them in the drawer where they’re out of sight. he blinks at you, a slight amusement bubbling inside him.

“wow, big fan, huh?”

you don’t know what’s worse: you being your most unpresentable self right now or that sae just caught you having some of his merch.

“so you have some of eita’s merch lying around too or is it just mine?”

you could die of embarrassment right now.

back still turned to sae, you desperately search your brain for answers. thinking on the spot doesn’t seem like your strong suit right now.

“it… was a gift.” believable, right?

sae hums, as though he’s contemplating. “why just mine then? why not oliver’s or my brother’s?”

fuck.

“i don’t know, maybe yours was the only one that wasn’t sold out.”

“ouch.”

you didn’t mean to indirectly insult him but what’s a drowning girl to do?

sae sighs when you keep quiet, still staying out where you are, trembling too much to move. “didn’t know you were in love with me.”

this time, you whip your head around to face him—that same stoic expression of his unchanging on his face. “am not!”

his brows shoot up. “but you bought some of my merch.”

“i told you, it was a gift.”

you need to get paid for still standing up on your own two feet right now. your head’s way too giddy from the interaction, considering.

“even that figurine over there?” sae’s finger points to a small toy just barely visible behind the nooks of the bookshelf. it’s a small figurine; something sold a few years back when sae was just first starting out. you’d bought it because, well, you’d thought chibi sae looked cuter than actual sae. (especially now when he’s just staring blankly at you.)

“that was…”

“a gift?”

you think he’s making fun of you now at this point.

“anyway, we’ve established that there’s no emergency here so why don’t you just go?” you’re pretty sure sae won’t ever talk to you again—not after coming across what he did tonight. he probably thinks you’re a freak, probably questions why he even considers you his friend (to which you’re now wondering if that’s even true at all).

you make a mental reminder to yourself to kill otoya eita tomorrow.

sae lets you push him towards the entryway, apple juice long forgotten on the countertop, collecting condensation with water pooling below the glass.

“you must like me a lot, huh?” he ponders out loud as you continue pushing him towards the door. you see a hint of cockiness in his stare now, the slightest tug of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

“i do n—”

“be careful what you say,” sae cuts you off, toeing his shoes back on, looking glamorous as ever and you nearly forget that he looks straight out of a magazine even in his sportswear. “‘cause i’ll believe you.”

part of you wants him to just go already so your knees can buckle under, but part of you wants to ask him what he means. what’s he insinuating? isn’t the answer clear enough.

but now it’s way past nine and he’s all ready to go yet he’s still standing at your doorway, waiting for your answer. you want to scream no, you want to keep your secret safe, you don’t want him to know about the crush you’d been harbouring. but he told you to be careful what you say because he’ll believe you.

“s-so what if i do?” you stutter, failing to look him in the eyes, your stare focused on the air in between you.

sae’s features soften ever so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to give in so quickly, but it isn’t one of disgust. it’s more like one of pleasant surprise.

after what seems like an eternity, sae finally opens his mouth.

“you must’ve gotten jealous a lot with all those girls i’d gone out with.”

your fist instinctively connect with his arm, his stoic finally giving way to a grimace, palm rubbing his triceps in pain. out of all the things to say, he chooses to say that? you think he deserves it.

“you know what, sae? you can go back to your fake girlfriends, i could care less,” you snap at him, pouting. you hate that despite how ignorant his words are that you can’t find it in yourself to hate him.

sae exhales sharply, chuckling softly when he sees your pout, and you feel as though it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this even though it’s not. his hand comes up to ruffle the top of your head gently, and you’re reminded of when he did this to you back in high school.

“can’t do that, can i?” he tells you, that soft disposition gone and the stoic mischief coming right back. “not when i’m in front of who could be my real girlfriend.”

your heart might’ve forgotten how to beat.

sae leaves you standing there, left to your own devices as he exits your apartment, fully aware of his effect on you.

not long after he leaves (while you’re still standing in the doorway), your phone buzzes in your pocket. you fish it out and see his name there for the first time in a long time.

you smile to yourself as you read his message. okay, so maybe you’ll spare eita’s life for now.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Another, another Drabble that might be longer than I originally planned…the ending was dogshit🦦

‘It’s cute.’ Sylvia Newbon of the Aphrodite cabin cooed as Luke flashed you a charming smile.

‘Then you can have him then,’ you began, plucking loose threads from your jeans, ‘he’s been nothing but an annoying pain in my ass as of late.’

Sylvia merely chucked as she playfully nudged you in the side. ‘I don’t think that’s possible at this pount, Luke seems dead set on you, and I honestly think you’re being dramatic about all this. You’ve got someone pinning after you and your response to that is to be rid of it?’ She said aghast. You shrugged, not really understanding what Luke saw in you, a child of Hades, a forbidden child other than that; a forbidden child whose existence shouldn’t have come to pass.

‘He’ll get bored of me once he realises I’m not who he thinks I am.’ You defended, now watching Luke as he took a small break from training, face still bearing that smile that only seemed to grow to the point his dimples and pearly whites were on full display. You didn’t want to be the one responsible in taking take away that shine. Ever. For it seemed that ever since your first arrival to camp, Luke had been the only one to stand by you without an ounce of trepidation for who your godly father was; He had been there during the sleepless nights despite the fact he didn’t need to, during your time at the Hermes cabin he would be beside you in the dinning pavilion or even save you a seat.

He did everything in his power to help you and be of aid, all without expecting a simple thank you in return…You genuinely hated how you felt towards him. You originally put it down to the fact that Luke Castellan was conventionally attractive, only to soon learn that it was much deeper than that, which had scared you to the point of becoming recluse.

‘Don’t say that.’ Sylvia said sternly. ‘Don’t do that to yourself, don’t sell yourself short. I hate it when you do that because that means missing out on something pure, something beautiful, something real.’ She then grasps onto your hands, holding them with a strength that was reflective of her passion. ‘I don’t want fear of rejection, for fear itself to control you any longer because if there’s anyone in camp who deserves to be happy, it’s you. You’re the child of hades for fuck sake, fear is beneath you and you know it but you still willingly give it power over you. Why? Why deny yourself true happiness when it’s served up to you on a silver platter-‘

‘Because I’m afraid!’ You exclaimed, cutting Sylvia off but find it difficult to stop. ‘I’m afraid that I won’t be enough for him, that I’ll take away his smile that shows off his perfect teeth and cute dimples! I’m afraid that he’ll never be satisfied being with me because even in a camp full of people like me, much like Nico, I still feel the outcast and I don’t want to burden Luke with that.’ You finished, slightly out of breath. ‘So it’d be better for the both of us if I just kept my distance.’ Neither of you spoke, you just stared at each other, letting nothing but the silence to take hold, but then you saw the sudden shift in Sylvia’s eyes as they looked to something just behind you.

You didn’t need to know who it was behind you, not when you could clearly see from where you sat that Luke was missing from his little group of friends that were heading off elsewhere; which was probably why you didn’t express surprise upon hearing his voice from behind saying. ‘I know I probably fucked up my chances by eavesdropping but I completely disagree with everything you said just now.’ You didn’t even react when Luke sat himself down, nor make any attempts to move away when he then shuffled closer to you as humanly possible. Sylvia -obviously knowing what was going to happen- smiled softly as she stood up and promptly left you and Luke to your much needed conversation.

‘And why’s that?’ You rhetorically asked, looking at him as though you weren’t having an internal breakdown as to what might come out of his mouth next. ‘Would me saying I like you be substantial enough evidence?’ He asks.

‘We’re not in a romcom movie Luke, a simple I like you is never going to be enough, especially for people like me who have never been given much of a reason for staying, never mind a good one at that.’ You replied and Luke hummed in acknowledgment before grabbing you hand in a similar fashion as Sylvia did prior; with a strength reflective of his passion. ‘Then let me try again by saying that the day you came to camp was probably the most important day of my life.’ Luke began. ‘From the moment Chiron brought you to the Hermes cabin I knew right then and there that I was a goner. I must’ve been obvious as even some of camp began to notice how I acted towards you and would come up and tell me to tell you and get it over with…but I didn’t because I’d thought I would have enough time to tell you eventually.’ He chuckles, squeezing your hand while you listened intently.

‘I was wrong on that front because it wouldn’t be long until you were claimed by Hades and soon after you had already packed your stuff to move into your new cabin. It wasn’t until then did I realise that I took our friendship for granted, I knew that sooner or later you’d be claimed but at least not for a while, I often asked myself why did I cling onto you so desperately and now I know why.’ Luke finished, looking at you deeply.

‘Why?’ You asked, already knowing the answer.

‘It’s because I didn’t want you to move on and forget about me when I was very much liked the thought of you being close to me, closer than a friend should. So while your cabin was being built I took that as a final attempt in getting closer to you before being forced to wake up in a cabin void entirely of your presence for good.’ Luke replied.

You licked your lips, suddenly overtly away of how dry they were. ‘and here I thought you were just being the friendly head of the Hermes cabin.’ You admitted humourlessly, resting your head against his shoulder without a care. ‘How oblivious was I?’

‘How oblivious we both were you mean.’ Luke corrected as he rested his head atop of yours, briefly closing his eyes. ‘I just hope that I’ve given you enough reason to stay at camp.’ At those words you squeezed his hand in reassurance and uttered softly for him to hear. ‘you gave me that and so much more.’

Luke pressed a kiss to your head. ‘Good because I would’ve followed you into Tartarus and back if I hadn’t.’

[tomieafterdark]

hate fucking with Eren drabble..18+

want more? I got you<3 here’s my masterlist

pairing: Eren x fem!reader

cw: hate fucking, sex through the prison bars from that one season 4 scene, no prep but reader is wet enough by just seeing Erens drastic glow up, vaginal sex, ass slapping, choking, hair pulling.

a/n: I haven’t watched season 4 properly and that includes this scene so if something is missing you know why😭 anyways enjoy this drabble, I am having a writers block kinda so I am stuck on my requests and longer fics rip.

Hange just came back up from asking Eren some questions, it seems she didn’t have much of a breakthrough though.

“He kept babbling on about fighting…” she said and sat down with the others. She looks disappointed as she continues explaining what else had happened.

You wanted to go down and check on Eren knowing damn well Eren despises you. Ever since you first met, you’ve had this weird energy of constantly competing or tearing each other down. Deep down inside maybe you were just looking for a way to let out your pent up anger and sadness, to tease Eren or full on argue with him. You just needed an outlet for your feelings…

As you get closer to his cell, he is still mumbling to himself about fighting. What a weirdo. And he is shirtless with a freaking manbun, you take a minute to stare at him not knowing he is aware, his body looks like it was carved by the gods themselves. As much as you despised Eren, you couldn’t help but admit he was so attractive right now, he has changed a lot.

“How long are you going to stand there and not talk, you know I am not deaf. I heard you walk down.” He says, his voice is husky and sends chills down your spine. You hadn’t seen Eren for a while, last time you saw him he was annoying and whiny and just cried a lot…this time he is different. You bite your bottom lip. His face was hotter too, that hairstyle looks like it was invented just for him.

“Whatever.” You say in a bratty tone, and walk closer to him.

He doesn’t care, he is just sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looks annoyed, as if he was doing something important earlier and had been interrupted.

You start to bother him on purpose, hoping for a reply. He must be equally desperate to let out his pent up emotions because he argues back. Suddenly you and Eren are full on arguing about god knows what because it doesn’t make sense to anyone but you two. It goes from petty things to you bursting into tears, asking Eren why he has changed so much and why he is hurting everyone he once cared about. Eren doesn’t take kindly to that last part, you don’t know it but you hit a sore spot inside of him.

He grabs you by the collar of your shirt through the bars, eyes full of hatred and rage with a hint of pain and regret if you look deeper. You don’t stop there, you’re so angry and upset you end up bringing his mom into it, and then the real hell breaks loose.

He yells at you to leave her out of it, you scream back about everything that’s wrong with his behaviour and plans and how she would never approve of this. You’re trying to reach the little humanity he had left in him but it’s not working, the tension between you becomes weirdly sexual at some point. He can’t deny the tension and neither can you, he may have neglected his humanity but that doesn’t mean it’s not there deep within him, screaming to be let out, to express its feelings. The very feelings he has been pushing down to work toward his goal, pushing everything else aside. With you being here, and the sexual tension already between you the grief and pain chooses to express itself sexually.

He turns you around, with little care for how it affects you or if it hurt. He is rough with you, even though there’s literal bars between you he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls you in close, you can feel his breath on your neck. You giggle in response to Eren’s rough manhandling. “Geez, I didn’t know you had this side to you. Last time we argued it just ended with you crying like a bitch!” You laugh.

He slaps your face really hard in return, causing you to moan a little. Something about his cold broken energy just made you so attracted to him, and the carelessness and manhandling only made you more weak in the legs. You had not planned for this sexual tension to arise with Eren. Sure, all your arguing earlier helped you release the anger you were wanting to express but the sexual side of you needed release too and Eren’s glow up alone had awakened it. You hadn’t had sex in so long, too much work and too little time for anything else left you neglecting your sexual needs a lot.

You arch your back and push your ass up against Eren, to your surprise you’re met with some hardness. “Arguing makes you hard? You really are a mess Eren Yeager” you say to him in a snarky tone and laugh.

“Shut the fuck up, aren’t you the one pushing your ass all up against me like a bitch in heat?” He says in a husky voice that sends shivers down your spine. You almost accidentally moan yes daddy in reply, this new Eren has your mind racing. You just smirk back at him. “I’ll fuck this sly smirk off your face bitch, when I’m done with your ass you’ll be crying begging me to stop.”

“Ooh I’m so scared. Face it Eren, you couldn’t last a minute.” You brag, hoping to get a rise out of him and get manhandled even more. Oh how you wish those stupid bars weren’t between you, so Eren could have his way with you.

He chokes you in return and pulls your pants and panties down, you’re so wet just from this alone. It’s good you are wet because Eren was so pissed off he would’ve bottomed out in you wether you were wet or not. Your eyes roll back as you’re gasping for air, he is choking a bit too hard. He gets closer to your ear as he continues choking and whispers “spread your legs more bitch.”

You’re so dizzy from being choked you accidentally reply back “yes daddy” out loud instead of in your head and spread them causing Eren to chuckle, he low-key likes it and even more when you said it in the state you were in. He shoves his entire length into you, it’s so big it hurts causing you to wake up from your dizzy state. He knows you’re struggling to take it, from the way your body tensed up to the way you’re almost pushing him out is telling but he keeps pushing it in making you take it all. Your moaning is starting to get a bit to loud, which has him hiss “quiet you whore. Do you really want them to find you like this? All wrapped up around my cock moaning like a slut?” He lets go of your throat and puts it over your mouth, your muffled moans are still loud but it’s better than before. He keeps thrusting at a merciless speed, your body finally stopped resisting his sheer force and you’re taking him. Limp legged, barely able to stand up and he just keeps going, you can feel it reach all the way up in your stomach. He grabs your hand and makes you feel it. “Feel it slut, that’s me re-arranging your tiny little guts.” You cry out in return, it’s making you lose it, it’s just too much. You just want to collapse here and now, but Eren pushes your hand down on the bulge his cock is making on your pretty stomach. Your reaction is gold to him. “What was it about me not lasting huh y/n?” He snarks and starts slapping your ass, not once or twice but so many times your cheeks turn red.

You squirt all over Eren’s cock, orgasming so hard your cunt is once again trying to push him out. Eren just buries himself deeper inside you, feeling every small movement your cunt makes in hopes of pushing him out. Your breathing is getting faster, with legs shaking. “Please Eren, pull out for a second it’s too much” you cry out with tears running down your pretty cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up and take this dick” is all he says and starts fucking you deeper. He puts you on all four, positioning you into a mean painful arch even though there’s bars between you. He somehow reaches deeper into you with the position you’re in and you’re leaking all over the cold cement floor from your eyes and cunt. Eren is brutal, you had enough ages ago but he keeps going. You are so overstimulated you try to crawl away but you’re met with more brutal manhandling, he pulls on your ponytail keeping you in place. “What’s wrong y/n? You can’t last longer?” He mocks.

You end up getting your absolute brains fucked out by Eren, at the same brutal pace for what feels like hours. When he is done, you’re a mess. He didn’t stop until your cunt was overstimulated, bruised and gaping. You hear the others come down to check on Eren, you quickly put your clothes on. You’re struggling to stand as they come over, you’re just standing against the wall with your legs threatening to collapse any minute.

thanks for reading I didn’t proof read so sorry for mistakes 😵‍💫

© 2023 succubisblog | All rights reserved

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧Freak Like Me

𖦹Warnings: Corrupt Cop!Nanami x Fem!Reader, Pet names? (Calls reader Beautiful a lot), Semi-public (car sex), p in v sex, Oral (fem receiving), Very brief mention of blood, Cervix kissing, Dubcon (consent is implied but he doesn’t ask before touching reader)

𖦹Word Count: 1.7k (I had to restrain myself from making it longer🥲)

🫧: Hello everyone sorry for any mistakes I always try to proof read at least twice before posting. Also I’ll be attempting to upload here and WP on Fridays at 5pm est.🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Summaryᐕ: It was supposed to be a late night traffic stop…only he was off duty and everyone knows what happens after dark.

Air moved deeply through your lungs harshly exiting your nose. Those fluorescent blue and red lights flashed obnoxiously bright, forcing your eyes to shut into a squint. The officer’s tall figure strutted over to your old compact sedan that was honestly hanging on by the grace of god herself. His blonde hair and white skin contrasted the chilled bitter darkness. Fingers tapped the window and signed for it to be rolled down. Your eyes hit the back of your head as you followed the lawful command.

And holy fuck…

A chill ran up your spine. He looked like the finest piece of art man could make- so much so you had to do a double take at the patrol car to see if it was the real deal. That this wasn’t an elaborate prank by some shitty tv show or idiotic influencers that didn’t know how illegal impersonating an officer was.

“Pretty late for a lady like you to be out here dontcha think,” he glanced at the bloody scrubs in your passenger seat, “long night?”

“That easy to tell?” your fingers rubbed at the dark circles under both eyes, “sorry but is your bodycam on?”

A strange mix of a laugh and hum rumbled in his throat, “license and registration ma’am.”

A demand.

Mint intertwined in his cool breath as he let out an annoyed sigh waiting for you to gather your things. As if you initiated the traffic stop on him. He softly snatched at the forms you handed to him.

“What has you out here so late, nurse ____?” His gaze flickered back to the passenger seat.

“Doctor,” you corrected.

“What?”

“It’s Dr._____ I’m not a nurse.”

He grinned, “well, many apologies for my ignorance.” You looked in his narrow eyes and something shifted in you. In both of you. Your pants felt almost suffocating on your throbbing pussy as that honey-like essence pooled to your center.

“I-I just got off work at the hospital,” you pointed behind you, “third twelve hour shift this week. I pulled over to get some sleep, heard somewhere that driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.”

Why’s his stare gotta be so intense? Your mind raced. Eyes lowering to his beautifully plump lips. Watching his tongue swipe teasingly slow over the bottom one before it was held between his teeth.

Good fucking God.

“Have you been drinking tonight?” You could have swore a glimpse of a grin flashed just as quickly as it had disappeared . His calloused fingers softly traced your jawline, thumb running across your lips. A line was crossed. Several lines. But shit it’s been so long since you’d been caressed. And the man before you was so alluring. You leaned into Nanami’s touch- your eyes fluttering shut for a second before burning into his.

“No, officer.”

“Why don’t you step out for me beautiful,” his voice low and seductive. Embarrassment burned through you from how quickly you obeyed. Horny and stupid. Desperate and horny. He looked you up and down then grabbed your hands. Cold to the touch but you didn’t pull away, placing them behind your head, “Lock your fingers.”

Holy hell he was close.

You could feel the heat emanating from his mouth. Circling you he stopped behind, pressing against your back. His belt. The service belt was nowhere to be found. Pressure started at the wrist and worked its way to your waist. Outlining the shape. His fingers trailed over your breasts. so. very. slow. Each finger took its time feeling the buds that hardened under.

Desperation made itself known from a slight gasp that morphed into a whimper, “shit.”

Nanami groaned in response. He walked back around, hands lowering to the fat of your ass gripping and squeezing. He placed a kiss on your cheek and nipped at your jaw.

“Sir,” you glanced at the abandoned strip of road, “not out here.”

His hand pulled to the front rubbing your pussy through your thin sweats. His digits worked their way inside feeling how wet you were. Snatching a moan from your throat that your own ears struggled to recognize. No panties. A bold move on your end.

“Get in the backseat,” his teeth caught on your bottom lip. An arm rounded your waist pulling you away from your car before opening the door for you. He blocked your head from hitting the top of the doorway like he would if sticking you in his squad truck.

Before you could speak your sweats were around your ankles. His eyes looked back at you as he kissed up your thigh, “want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice was under a shout. Loud. Desperate. And beyond fucking horny for the stranger with his upper half leaning between your legs. The other hanging out the car.

He chuckled, “okay doctor.” His tongue ran up your slit catching the enticing liquid that glazed parts of your skin. Ecstasy swam through your veins and straight to where the man was now sucking your sensitive clit. Hands sliding through his healthy locks he moaned on your cunt. You hissed at the feeling.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

You sat your head up seeing Nanami dig in your pocket and pull out your phone. He flashed the screen and your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t.” From his shit eating grin you knew he wasn’t gonna listen. He firmly pressed the green answer and tossed you the phone.

“Hey JESS,” you stifled the moan that clawed to be set free. The cop pushed your thighs apart, thrusting his middle and ring fingers inside. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden intrusion. Savoring that pain spiked with pleasure.

Is that mommy? Your six year old asked sleepily in the background.

Hey Miss.____ I was just checkin on ya. It’s pretty late just wanted to see if everything was okay

“Y-yes hon everything’s fine just got off work a bit late.”

Nanami unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his erection. Lining himself to your pussy that clenched around nothing. He smiled from ear to ear slowly inching himself deep.

That’s good. Baby Kiri keeps askin for ya wanna say good night before I put her to bed?

“No!” you lowered your tone, taking a fistful of Kento’s shirt, “no need I’ll s-see her when I g-get home.”

He took the phone muting and keeping it on speaker, “lemme hear you beautiful,” his pace increased. Squelching and your squeals filled the car, “fuck darling n-nice and loud. That’s it.”

“Nanami,” you whimpered, “fuck pleaseee.” You dragged.

“Uh uh Kento when I’m fucking you,” he smirked.

Why not? Hello? ___ are you there? Is everything okay?

He thrust one last time before plunging his cock deep inside. And fuck. Fuck. fuck. fuck. His tip was pressing against your cervix. Your legs started to shake slightly but enough where he noticed. And you clenching tight around him had his eyes rolling back and breathing heavy.

Unmute. “I-I’m fine Jess. Just in a bit of a s-situation right now.”

His hips rocked slowly bringing that tight coil closer. His teeth glided over your throat, “gonna drive me crazy hang up that damn phone,” you could sense his lust from his deep whisper.

Should I send someone out there? What’s happening?

“No need, ‘mtaking good care of her,” he growled at the nanny.

Who is this? Where’s ___??

“Gonna have to, ah, call you b-back.” You tried your best not to let it out but that moan slipped through and no doubt she picked up. Nanami took your phone tossing it atop those dirty scrubs.

Oh…ohh, it clicked. She hung up immediately.

He slammed his hips into yours. Faster. Stronger. Until that coil grew so tight in the both of you that you were shouting each other's names as you came. His hot cum filling you up so full and you leaving your cream all over him that is splattered just below his belly button. Drained of all his energy and stamina he rocked into you riding out the high to both of your orgasms.

“Kento,” you said breathlessly, “thank you.” Of course he didn’t know what you were thanking him for. Didn’t know you’d been so deprived from a man’s touch. You craved some kind of sexual interaction. Didn’t know he relieved so much of the pent up stress from work and being a single mother.

“Any time beautiful.” He panted but managed to keep a smile on his handsome face. He pulled out looking for something, anything to help clean you up. When his eyes landed on you, you pointed to the front seat.

“Got a few baby wipes in the glove compartment.”

He nodded. You watched as he climbed out zippering his pants as his head fell back. Taking in the cool night breeze. God he was something to behold. Walking around the front he took out the pack of wipes and jogged back to you.

“Does anything hurt? Are you alright?” He asked back to his monotone as he wiped your thighs and intimate parts.

“I’m alright.”

“Think you can walk?” he shimmied your sweats back up, shoving something in the pocket. Before you could even answer he pulled you to the edge of the car by your legs making you yelp. He held you like a bride before placing you in the driver seat.

“Hope so.” You said quietly. His hand grabbed the back of your head through the window pulling you in a kiss. Long and passionate. If you knew anything it was that this man was gonna be the death of you. You felt yourself getting wet all over again.

“G’night…officer Nanami.” You looked deeply in his eyes.

“Get home safe.” He didn’t smile or break the contact. He climbed back in his car shutting off the lights and starting his car back up. Digging in your pocket you pulled out his business card that had his number written neatly in blue pen on the backside. Your mouth gaped open and looked out your window as he was passing you. Driving slow he seen the card in your hand and winked at you. That shit eating grin back on his lips.

Staring daggers back at the card you wondered how long you were really out for.

[nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius]

TBB Incorrect Quotes, Part 19

Wrecker: *lifting weights* Omega: Wow… He's so intense!  Omega: I wonder what drives him.  Wrecker, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

Crosshair: What have I done wrong?!  Echo: Everything. For your entire life.

Omega: Guys! I found a 100 dollar bill! Omega: *looks around* ….Should I keep it? Echo: Omega, just do the right thing. Crosshair: And put in your bag. Echo: No—

Crosshair: I prevented a murder today. Omega: Really? That’s amazing! How did you do that? Crosshair: Self-control.

Mayday: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying. Crosshair: And? Mayday: And you are.

Hunter: When I die I want Crosshair to lower me into my grave so he can let me down one last time.

Wrecker: I was just diagnosed with deez. Echo: Good, I hope it’s lethal.

Echo: Compliment me. Crosshair: You have eyes. Echo: Yeah, that works.

Echo: Don’t say a word.  Wrecker: Fergalicious.  Echo: Wrecker, I said no words.  Wrecker: Oh, I see how it works. Two weeks ago, we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word, now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you.

Hunter: What do we say when life disappoints us?  Crosshair: Called it!  Hunter: No.

Crosshair: What is wrong with you? Hunter: Many, many things...  Hunter: And most of them are your fucking fault.

Tech: Hunter? I mixed redbull with coffee and now I can see sounds, should I worry?  Hunter: Tech, I swear to god—

Omega: I don’t want to talk about it.  Crosshair: Good, I don’t wanna hear about it.

Tech: I have a plan. Hunter: Good! As long as we aren’t breaking the law again, I’m open to hearing it. Tech: … Hunter: … Tech: I no longer have a plan.

Omega: What’s your biggest fear? Mayday: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Omega, under her breath: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Mayday: Is… Is that meant to be on fire?  Tech: No… not really.  Mayday: Are you going to do something about it?  Tech: Hm… nah.

Echo: What kinds of sounds annoy you?  Hunter: Are we talking real sounds or imaginary ones?  Echo, now interested: Lets say imaginary.  Hunter: Spiders wearing flip flops.

Mayday, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Tech: Might I make a suggestion you possibly won’t like? Hunter: Do you make any other kind?

Crosshair: In alcohol’s defense, I’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too.

Jesse: I hate you! Crosshair: Wow! So much in common already!

Crosshair: Am I a good person? No. But do I try to be better every single day? Also no.

Tech, talking to Tarkin: With all due respect, which is none…

Tech: I have an idea. Echo: I have the hospital and Rex on speed dial.

Tech: Tech, I think we have a problem. Wrecker: What, the fire? Tech: No, the- wait, what fire? Wrecker: Oh forget about it, this sounds more interesting.

Crosshair: I was arrested for being too cool. Mayday: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Wrecker: Do you even, cuddle, bro? Do you even lift, bro… each other up with kindness? Do you tell your loved ones that you care about them regardless of who is listening? DO YOU EVER RESOLVE CONFLICTS, EMOTIONAL ISSUES THROUGH COMPROMISE AND COMPASSION RATHER THAN ANGER AND DENIAL?!

Tech: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people-opener”? Crosshair: Crosshair: …Should I not have?

Tech: I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are. Hunter: Okay? Tech: … Tech: … Tech: Actually it’s gonna bug me if I don’t, so—

Mayday: You know what your problem is? Crosshair: I only have one?

Wrecker: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup? Tech: The afterlife, I guess.

Wrecker: You look really stressed. Hunter: Haha, it’s the stress.

Crosshair: “Ladies and gentlemen” is unnecessarily gendered, overly formal, lengthy, and honestly, I’m falling asleep already. “Cowards” on the other hand, is inclusive to all genders, to the point, and dramatic.

Wrecker: I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter “s”. Crosshair: *looks over at Tech and Phee* Crosshair: Is it “sexual tension”?

Hunter: I have a question. Wrecker: Shoot. Hunter: Is the S or C in scent silent? Echo: Fuck you, I’m going to be thinking about this all day. Wrecker: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent. Hunter: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way. Echo: The holonet says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent. Crosshair: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound. Echo: Crosshair is not allowed to talk anymore.

Hunter: Let’s not Crosshair this into a worse situation than it already is. Crosshair: Did you just use my name as a verb?

Omega: Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to play the trumpet? Tech: Why? Omega: I want to wander around playing it to annoy Crosshair. Tech: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play the trumpet well for that. Omega: Tech you have opened my eyes.

Hunter: Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

Crosshair: I’m never donating blood ever again. Crosshair: The second you walk through the door, it’s just one invasive question after another! Crosshair: ‘Where did you get it?’ 'Why is it in a bucket?’ I mean, do you want it or not?

Wrecker: Are you alright? Crosshair: Short answer or long answer? Wrecker: Short? Crosshair: No. Wrecker: Long? Crosshair: Nooooooo.

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Claim me

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Meddle About - Chase Atlantic

Keegan Russ x Reader

Synopsis: You're known to be lost in your books and their fantasies whenever you're off duty. When word gets out that you've finally found a boyfriend who is not a character, no one believes you. So Keegan makes himself known as your boyfriend to stop the soldiers from bothering you any longer. Word count: 938 Masterlist

Inspired by a little TikTok of @ lockgan. He cosplays as Keegan, so for my Keegan girlies you should check him out! 👀

Surprisingly it’s a quiet day at Fort Santa Monica. You’re not needed to patrol the walls surrounding the base and the Federation has been quiet today. The soldiers are noticeably more relaxed and easygoing. They get to sit back and poke fun at each other. But that also means lips are looser around the base. You decide to not take part in their gossip, instead, you spend your time on your beloved books. Finally being able to catch up on lost reading time. If Keegan wasn’t still busy then you would’ve opted to spend some time with him, but understandably he’s a busy man.

You haven’t gotten together for long. At most, it’s been a couple of months. But you can already see yourself grow old with him, despite all of the difficulties you’ll face. Apparently, word has gotten out that you have recently gotten a boyfriend. They don’t know yet who, so that has been the talk around Fort Santa Monica. People can’t believe that you, a bookworm, have gotten a boyfriend. You’ve approached Keegan with this, you've told him that if he’s bothered by rumors swirling around you, you can set your foot down and tell them who your boyfriend is. He just laughed and said, ‘let them find out who your boyfriend is. They’ll find out sooner or later. The base is quite small.’ He winked at you before resuming his duties, which left you a flustered mess. Not used to his ways of teasing you.

You sit in the common room with a few other soldiers. So engrossed in the book you’re reading, you don’t notice them calling out to you. Eventually one of them stomps over to you, annoyed that you aren’t paying them any attention over your book. “Hey! Are you deaf or something?!” He says exasperated while grabbing the book out of your hands. You look up at the person in annoyance, “I was reading that! Give it back!” He scoffs in response, “now you acknowledge me.” You look at him confused. He gives you a look and puts the book back down on the couch, “we’ve been trying to get your attention for minutes!” He waves his arms around in annoyance while motioning to his buddies. You sigh, “sorry. What do you want?” You ask curtly. Wanting to get back to your book as soon as possible. What you have failed to see is that Keegan has come looking for you. He’s leaning on the doorframe leading to the common room, watching your exchange with the other soldiers. Ready to intervene if necessary.

The soldier smirks at you, “I heard you have gotten a boyfriend.” He states as if it’s some sacred information. You raise an eyebrow, “I do.” You deadpan. He laughs, “so, why haven’t we seen him yet?” You chuckle, “you’ve seen him around I reckon.” At your comment, he raises an eyebrow. Getting ready to speak before getting interrupted by one of his buddies. “Are you sure he exists?” He asks snickering. You frown at him, “yes. He does exist.” Getting fed up with this stupid interrogation. “Now I would like to get back to my book if you’re done.” You state them. Subtly telling them to fuck off. The soldier who took your book from you looks at it, “I bet it’s just another one of your fantasies. He’s your book boyfriend isn’t he?” He chuckles as he points to the book. You glance at the book before scowling at him. “My boyfriend. Is real. Thank you very much.” You spit out. They all laugh at how bothered you’re getting by their taunts. “Just admit it. It’s all in your head.” The other speaks up. Just as you’re about to retort to his statement. You see a figure crossing across the room, standing in front of you protectively. Keegan.

“What’s going on here?” He says with his arms crossed. The one who grabbed your book speaks up, “we’re asking her about her so-called ‘boyfriend’. Who is clearly not real.” He smirks. Keegan lets out a dry chuckle, “her boyfriend?” The soldiers nod in unison. He narrows his eyes at them, giving them a cold look. “I’m the boyfriend. Do I look real, soldiers?” He states coldly. The way those men tense up and freeze at Keegan’s words is a sight for sore eyes. You let out a small chuckle. “I asked you something.” He says impatiently. As if they are being reprimanded by higher-ups they straighten up, “yes sergeant.” One of them stutters out. Keegan smirks at their demeanor before dropping it. “Get lost. If you pull this shit I again. I will hear about it. I will find you. And give you something to cry about.” He says menacingly. Even this got you surprised. You can’t imagine how they feel after hearing that. They all give him a quick salute before scrambling off.

You place a hand on his shoulder blade. He turns around to face you. He pulls you into his chest by your waist, kissing your forehead. He pulls away and looks into your eyes with a possessive look. “Claim. Me.” Two words. Two simple words that make your knees weak. Two words for one sentence, ‘tell them who your boyfriend is’. That is what he’s trying to convey to you. You feel your face getting slightly warm to the touch. You look into his eyes with love. “You’re mine.” You tell him. Two words for a simple sentence, ‘Keegan Russ is my boyfriend’. He smiles at your words, understanding what you are trying to say.

“I’m yours sweetheart. Don’t forget that.”

[drabbles-mc]

Better Than Him

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend bails last-minute on yet another date night, you call the first person you can think of to commiserate with.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating, language, alcohol

Word Count: 6.7k (oops)

A/N: Don't ask me how I ended up writing almost 7k of debauchery and filth for Angel. I don't know. I drank some wine and this happened. I feel like it should go without saying, but I'll still say it: don't cheat on your partners, y'all. It's only okay and sexy for fictional people to do. 😂😌

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lilacyennefer @bport76 @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @littlekittymeow @thesandbeneathmytoes @meadowofsinfulthoughts @garbinge @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @frattsparty @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @amorestevens @enjoy-the-destruction @withmyteeth @winchestershiresauce @nessamc @narcolini @mijagif @choochoo284 @fanfic-n-tabulous @artemiseamoon @justazzi (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You were laying on your couch in the living room, slouched down so far that you knew it was going to give you neck issues if you stayed in that position for too much longer. Your chin was tucked against your chest by default. The television was playing in the background, the same sitcom on that you’d watched front to back more times than you could count. You weren’t even really listening to it, though. It was just white noise.

Your phone was propped up against your chest, the picture of you and your boyfriend on your home screen doing nothing but mocking you at this point. You exhaled a deep, exasperated sigh as your finger hovered over the Messages app at the bottom of your screen. It was a stupid idea, but you still opened the app. Nothing good was gonna come of it, but you still scrolled down to your text message conversation with Angel.

The last exchange between the two of you had been him inviting you to the clubhouse, and you politely blowing him off because you were going to have date night with your boyfriend. But now your boyfriend was out doing god knows what and you were lying on your couch, all dressed up with no place to go. Your heels mocked you from the floor, same with the hem of your skirt sliding farther up your leg as you crossed and uncrossed them. All the effort and for what?

Despite knowing better, you hit the call button at the top of the screen. You hit speaker on the first ring, not wanting to even put the effort forth at this point to lift and hold the phone to your ear. Sad, sure. Borderline pathetic, maybe. But you weren’t given the time to spiral into your thoughts about it too much.

“You change your mind about the party?” Not even a greeting. Just loud background conversations and Angel getting straight to the point.

“No,” you replied in the loudest mumble you could manage.

“Wait, where are you? Why…why are you calling me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

The noise on the other end of the line decreased drastically, and you could only imagine that it was because Angel stepped outside to finish the phone call. “Thought tonight was date night or whatever?”

“It was.” You hated how bummed you sounded about it.

“Oh, fuck.” He sighed and you could picture the look on his face. “He, god, he fuckin’ bail? Again?”

You groaned. “The again was not needed, Angel.”

“Neither is all his bullshit.” He paused for a beat. “C’mon, dulce, I’ve been tellin’ you for a minute that you don’t need this dude.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you argued, but there was no real anger in your voice. Even saying you were annoyed with him was an overreach. You knew he was right.

“What do you wanna hear then, hm?” His voice was right back to its usual slick, flirtatious tone.

You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore how much you enjoyed listening to him talk to you like that. You dragged your hand down your face, knowing that this was your last chance to be smart and get out of the conversation unscathed. But you were sick of being the smart one.

“You wanna come over?”

He laughed. “You want me to leave a party to go come and watch you mope about your shitty boyfriend?”

It got you to smile. “Yea.”

He let out another laugh and you couldn’t help but to picture the way that he was probably shaking his head, looking up at the sky knowing that he was going to say yes but he didn’t want to give you an easy time about it. He never wanted to give you an easy time about anything.

He sucked his teeth. “Fine. Be there in twenty.”

“This is why they call you Angel.”

He chuckled. “Shut up.” He paused. “I’ll see you soon.”

It wasn’t quite enough to pull you up from the inhuman angle you were laying at on the couch, but you did feel a little better knowing that you weren’t going to be spending the whole night by yourself anymore. “See you soon.”

You hadn’t moved a single inch by the time that you heard his motorcycle pulling up outside your apartment. The only thing that had changed was that now your phone was discarded on your coffee table instead of resting against your chest. You turned your head to look at the door but you made no move to get up and greet him.

The door was only halfway open, Angel wasn’t even inside the door yet and you called over, “That took longer than twenty minutes!”

Without missing a beat he pelted a bag of Sour Patch Kids at you, the candy landing just below where your chin was tucked. “Wasn’t gonna try and bring ice cream on the bike. Settled for the next best thing.” He kicked off his boots once he shut and locked your door. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Ice cream doesn’t sound terrible,” you said with a chuckle. You lifted one foot and gestured towards your kitchen. “There’s some in the freezer if you want it.”

Angel rolled his eyes as he walked over, standing alongside the couch right next to you. You looked up at him, his presence more towering than usual as your laid down while he stood. He watched as you tore the corner off the package of your candy.

“You’re not even moping right,” he joked as he reached and pushed on your one knee so it knocked into the other. Neither of you made a comment about the face that it made the hem of your skirt slip up a little higher, but you noticed the way his eyes lingered a beat longer. “Supposed to be curled up in sweatpants and shit after a breakup, aren’t you?”

You tilted your head up to look at him more directly, your chin finally lifting off its resting place on your chest. “Breakup?”

“Yea. You,” he paused , brows coming together, “you broke up with him, right?” Your silence spoke volumes and he couldn’t do anything besides huff and roll his eyes at you. “Come on, you’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?”

“What?” You only sounded defensive because you knew that he was probably about to be right with whatever he was going to say.

“How many times does this guy have to blow you off and treat you like shit before you finally kick him to the curb?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you said with a shake of your head, not able to look him in the eyes as you ate one of the candies and set the package on the table next to your phone.

“Don’t be stupid,” he retorted.

“Angel!”

“What!” He held his hands out like he was begging you to get up and try something. “How else would you describe it? You’ve,” he scoffed, “you’ve called me stupid for way less.”

“Yea, but I never mean it.”

“Because I’m never being this stupid,” he shot back with a smirk.

Despite your frustration, you found yourself biting back a smile as you rolled your eyes at him. You knew he was right. You should’ve left your boyfriend a long time ago. Consistency with something that wasn’t great felt safer than not having any consistency at all, though.

“Since when are you giving out relationship advice?”

He shrugged with a laugh. “I’m not. I’m givin’ out breakup advice. Dump his ass.”

It got both of you to laugh. For a brief moment, it almost looked like Angel was about to say something else. Instead, though, he turned and headed for your kitchen to grab himself a beer, shedding his kutte along the way. You said sure when he asked if you wanted one too. Even with the television on, you could hear the clattering of the bottlecaps on the countertop. When you heard the slight scraping of the bottles being picked up, clinking against the rings on Angel’s fingers, you finally pushed yourself into a more upright position. You were still somewhat slouched back against the arm of the sofa, but you were at least at a more appropriate angle so you wouldn’t get a permanent kink in your neck.

“Here.” Angel faked like he was going to toss the open bottle to you. You knew that he wouldn’t, but you still flinched to reach and grab it just in case. You hated the laugh that it got out of him, but really you loved it. With one hand free, he tapped your knee lightly. “Quit hogging the couch.”

“It’s my couch, you know,” you said as you pulled your legs in a little closer to you, granting him the space to sit.

“Yea, and you invited me over. So now you gotta share.” He plopped down unceremoniously, immediately putting his feet up on your coffee table.

You were both tuned into the show playing on the television for a couple minutes before you asked, “How was the party?”

He looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “Could’ve shown up and found out for yourself.”

“I didn’t wanna see people,” you said before taking a sip of your beer.

“Oh? And what am I, then?’ he asked with a laugh.

“You’re Angel,” you replied with no hesitation.

He rolled his eyes but there was no denying the grin that was creeping across his face. “Shut up. Don’t gotta sweet-talk me. I’m already here.”

You both chuckled before falling back into comfortable silence. Part of you felt like you should be saying something more. After all, you did ask him to bail on the clubhouse party to come and hang out with you. But it was so comfortable with him like this. Something about knowing that he would turn his back on something like that just so he could show up and do nothing with you helped soothe your bruised ego. Your boyfriend couldn’t manage to show up for date night, but Angel could bail on an entire room full of his MC brothers and girls who would give just about anything to take him home just so he could show up and watch cheesy sitcoms with you. It stung but at the same time it felt good. You knew that that was all you really needed to know about how you should be handling your relationship, but you didn’t want to think about that. That problem would still be there tomorrow. You’d deal with it then.

In between episodes, you leaned over so you could set your beer bottle on the coffee table. As you settled back into the couch, you stretched your legs out again. You draped them across Angel’s lap, not commenting on the action as you did so. Your eyes were trained on the television, but in your peripheral you could see the way that Angel was looking at you. His eyes slowly raked up the exposed skin of your legs, along the rest of your body until he was looking at your face. He watched you for a minute, and you thought that maybe he was going to make a joke, or push your legs off him. But he didn’t.

He leaned so that he had one elbow propped against the arm of the couch, still holding his nearly-empty bottle of beer in that hand. Without looking back over at you, he brought his other hand to rest against your shin. The metal of his rings felt cool against your skin, and you flinched slightly, but you didn’t pull away or say anything to him. He felt the twitch, and rather than pulling away, he wrapped is fingers a little tighter. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it was enough to keep you from pulling away as the warmth from your skin made the metal of his rings more tolerable.

“What were you supposed to be doing tonight, anyway?” Angel asked you out of nowhere.

“Hm?” You pried your eyes away from the television screen to look at him.

“For date night. What were you guys gonna do?”

If someone else had been asking, you would assume that they were just going to rub salt in the wound. And maybe you would’ve thought the same of Angel too, because he could get like that sometimes, but there was something about the pensive look on his face that let you know that that wasn’t the case.

You shrugged as you rested your hands on your stomach. “Nothing crazy. Just dinner and then going somewhere for dancing and drinks.” You paused. “Why?”

He shrugged. “No reason.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. Nudging his leg lightly with your foot, you said, “Nosey.”

He laughed but didn’t argue because he knew that you were right. “Can he even dance?”

“Can you?” you shot back with a curious look.

“Pfft,” he laughed, “like I’m ever gonna give you that kind of ammunition.”

You let out a hum of amusement before the conversation died off again. The controlled chaos of the TV show playing in the background was the only noise in the entirety of your apartment. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Angel to be over at your place, for it to just be the two of you. So you wondered why this time you felt like it was the first time the two of you had ever existed in a space alone together. His hand that was steadily creeping up your leg was probably a large part of the root cause, but you couldn’t afford to think about it too much. Give it too much of your mental real estate and you were going to combust.

He didn’t say anything as his fingers began to work in methodical little circles against the muscle of your leg. Never in a million years would you have guessed that Angel was the kind of guy who would voluntarily give a girl a massage, let alone be good at it, but you instantly felt more relaxed as your legs untensed against him. You made a conscious effort to ignore the other feelings bubbling in your chest as he slowly but surely worked his fingers higher up your leg. He wasn’t looking at you, so you weren’t going to look at him. Maybe if it stayed like that, you would be able to keep yourself under control.

His fingers worked through a knot at the top of your calf, and the soft moan that slipped out past your lips was completely involuntary. You immediately froze, not turning to look at him, not saying anything about the sound you’d just made. You were waiting for Angel to say something, make some slick comment, a sexual joke of some kind, but he didn’t. His fingers didn’t stop moving, though, creeping up over your knee and onto your thigh.

You didn’t know how many seconds had passed before you finally decided that it was as safe to look at him as it was ever going to be. You slowly turned your head, your eyes searching for his. You thought that he was already going to be looking at you, waiting to say something. But when you were finally looking at him head-on, his eyes didn’t meet yours. Instead, his gaze was locked onto your legs, eyes slowly raking up the exposed skin, zeroing in like he was trying to see past the fabric of your skirt. It should’ve made you uneasy, should’ve made you want to tell him to get the fuck out of your apartment, but it didn’t.

Taking a slow, deep breath, you forced your body to relax again. The tension started to ebb away, allowing you to melt back into the couch cushions and against Angel. And, if your legs parted a little farther in the process, where was the harm in that.

Even with the television playing in the background, you heard the sharp inhale that he took, his eyes still completely zeroed in on your legs. You found yourself gnawing lightly at your bottom lip, just watching him, studying his reactions to it all. You knew that you definitely shouldn’t have been getting so much enjoyment out of it, but it was too late now.

“You good, Angel?” you asked as you watched his tongue dart across his bottom lip.

He cleared his throat as he nodded, finally dragging his eyes away from your legs so that he was looking at your face. “I’m good.” He paused. “You good?”

You nodded, a satisfied smile creeping across your face before you could stop it. “I’m good.”

There was a long pause, each of you waiting for the other to say something, do something. It felt like a game of chicken but you weren’t quite sure what you were waiting for more, for him to push it farther or for him to pull away completely. Usually you could read him without much of an issue, but this time you really didn’t know what his next move was going to be, if there was going to be one at all.

Then he lifted your legs just slightly. You froze, hating the fact that you were worried that he was going to stand up and leave. You would have no right to ask him to stay, to do any of the things that were currently running through your head. You had a boyfriend for that, supposedly. But he wasn’t here. Angel was.

He didn’t get up to leave, though. Instead, he slid down a little closer to you on the couch before draping your legs over his again. You were smiling before you even knew what you were doing. His hands rested easily on your knees, fingers pressing against you lightly for a moment before sliding up onto your thighs. He applied the same pressure he had before, still not saying anything more as he kept traveling slowly further and further towards the raised hem of your skirt.

When he finally reached it, your breath got caught in your throat as you waited to see what he was going to do next. He toyed with the hem of it, sliding the smooth, black fabric between his fingers. You were expecting him to slide his hands completely underneath it, for him to push it the rest of the way up your thighs. You were still holding your breath in anticipation, studying even the slightest shifts in his expression.

So imagine your disappointment when he tugged it down, letting it rest back in its rightful place covering up the majority of your thighs. You felt a little sick to your stomach over the fact that you were disappointed by that at all, but it was too late to take the feeling back now. He didn’t take his hands off of you at least, eyes still traveling up and down your body like he was trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle.

“Angel?”

His eyes snapped up to yours. “Yea?”

“Can you keep doing that?” you asked, your tone innocent enough. “Feels good.”

He swallowed hard, seeming shaken for the first time all night. But he nodded, a wordless agreement as he let his fingers press firmly, purposefully against the skin and muscles of your thighs. Your eyes drifted shut, soaking up the sensation, letting yourself get lost in the thoughts that you most definitely shouldn’t have been having. The disappointment of your canceled date night was the furthest thing from your mind now.

You didn’t even flinch when he pushed your skirt back up. Whatever shred of decency he’d been trying to have was tossed out the window the second you asked him to keep touching you like that. He didn’t know why he was tempting fate the way he was but he was too invested now to back down.

You felt him shifting on the couch, but your brain was too deep in other thoughts to really think about what it meant. You vaguely registered the fact that he was closer to you now, able to feel the denim of his jeans against the backs of your thighs. Your eyes were still closed, unable to see the way that he was looking at you like a starved animal who had managed to find itself a good meal. His teeth were digging into his bottom lip as he tried to exercise a little self-restraint. There was so much that he wanted to say to you, do to you, but with every passing second it all felt like it was turning more and more into a sick joke.

He inhaled slowly through his nose, gearing himself up for whatever your reaction was going to be to what he did next. You’d either let him, or he was going to get caught across the cheek with a mean right hand. At this point, he was willing to take the risk because his heart was pounding inside his chest and he couldn’t walk away without knowing.

His hands slipped underneath your skirt, ghosting over the tops of your thighs. You gasped when you felt the tips of his fingers brushing against the lace of your panties, right at the juncture where your legs met your hips. That’s what got you to finally open your eyes. You lifted your head off the arm of the couch, your mouth slightly open as you looked at Angel. You could see the deep rise and fall of his chest, and he could see the way yours was doing the same.

“I can stop,” his voice had a tone that you’d never heard before and it sent a wave of shivers over your body. When you didn’t say anything in response, didn’t make any type of move to encourage or discourage him, he said, “You want me to?”

You shook your head, your voice coming out small in a way you hadn’t intended it to. “No. Don’t…don’t stop.”

With what seemed like an effortless motion, he shifted so that he was kneeling, facing you slotted between your legs. Spreading his hands over your thighs, he pulled you down so your back laid flat against the couch cushions. He pushed your skirt up, exposing your thighs and panties in the same movement. He heard the shuddered breath you let out as his hands continued to run up and down your thighs, studying you as he tried to figure out what his next move was going to be.

“What’re we doin’ here, mi dulce?” he asked, his voice low.

Your heart was about to burst out of your chest, legs already on the brink of shaking when he hadn’t even really touched you yet. “Whatever you want.”

He licked his bottom lip. “You mean that?”

You managed a nod even though your brain was completely muddled with the possibilities of what Angel wanted to do to you. “I do.”

“This,” he said slowly as his hands crept back towards your hips, “is a bad idea.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I don’t care.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, not needing anymore encouragement from you as he looped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and started to pull them down your legs. You lifted your feet off the couch cushion, anything to make it easier for him to get them off of you faster. You were expecting him to toss them aside, but instead he tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans. Later, tomorrow, next week, whenever he thought back on whatever this was about to turn into and he was sure it was a dream, he’d have proof that it wasn’t.

Then his hands quickly ran up your shins and thighs again. This time he moved the rest of his body so that he was hovering over you, your legs loosely draping themselves around him as he set one hand on the arm of the sofa, bracing himself above you. His pupils were blown out like you’d never seen them before as his other hand gripped tighter onto your thigh.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he rasped out.

It was the closest you ever got to having an orgasm just from the sound of someone’s voice. You whispered a soft, embarrassingly needy, “Fuck,” as you kept your eyes locked on his.

His hand crept from your thigh until it landed in between your legs. You gasped, biting back a whine as he trailed his fingers along your folds with a featherlight touch. Enough for you to feel him there, but not enough to get what you really wanted.

A smirk painted over his features as he applied just a little more pressure. “If you’re this wet already,” he leaned down so that his lips were right next to your ear, “I don’t know if you can really handle me, querida. I haven’t even started yet.”

The moan that came out of you wasn’t planned, but you couldn’t stop it. Your eyes fluttered for a second as his words washed over you but finally you were able to focus on him again. “Let me try.”

The smile on his face was sinful as he leaned down, attaching his lips to yours. Your hands immediately interlocked against the back of his neck, not allowing him the opportunity to pull away now that you had him. You’d thought about what it would be like to kiss Angel more than you cared to admit. It wasn’t something you were exactly proud of, but given the situation you’d put yourself in now, thoughts were the least of your worries.

He tasted like the beer he’d taken from your fridge, like the cigarette he’d probably smoked at the clubhouse before leaving to come and see you. His tongue moving against yours felt like heaven. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip as your fingers slid up and into the short hair above the nape of his neck.

While he was pulling the air from your lungs with the way he was kissing you, his fingers slid up and down your folds, slicking themselves with your wetness and teasing you for just another moment longer before he slowly slid them into you. The moan you let out was something out of Angel’s wildest, wettest dreams. He swallowed the sound eagerly as you kept your lips pressed to his.

You pulled your lips off his only so that you could say his name. It came out like a pant as you pulled him closer to you, moaning quietly into the crook of his neck. His fingers continued to work you over, rendering you an absolute mess as you clawed at his back through the fabric of his shirt.

“How’s that feel?” he murmured against your ear.

You forced your brain to work well enough to string together the words, “So fucking good.”

“How good?” He kissed right below your ear. “Better than him?”

“Angel,” your voice was somewhere between a plea and a warning.

You felt the slight vibration, the hum of his quiet laughter. “You can tell me.”

You gasped as he sped up his rhythm. “Fuck, Angel.”

“C’mon, dulce,” he coaxed, “tell me.” When you didn’t say anything, he stilled his movements, smirking at the whine you let out. “If I’m not doin’ a better job, I can just stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “You feel s—” your words faltered as he started to move again, “so fucking good.”

He kissed you hard on the lips, his mouth moving hungrily against yours in a vain attempt to distract you from the fact that he was slipping his fingers out of you. You whined against his mouth and the quick laugh he let out would’ve felt insulting if it wasn’t immediately followed by the sound of him unbuckling his jeans.

He pulled away from you, planting his feet back onto the floor just long enough to drop his jeans and boxers to the floor. You were sitting part of the way up, propping yourself on your forearms as you watched him. He was stepping out of the denim that was now in a pile at his feet when he saw you. He chuckled, shaking his head at you as he crawled back on top of you.

“Like what you see?” he asked as he pulled your legs back around his waist.

You hummed in agreement as you slid your hands up his side, your fingers easily finding their way under the ribbed fabric of his tank top. “I’d like it better if I could feel it.”

He let out a breathless laugh as he dropped his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“You love it,” you mumbled as you tightened your legs around him, desperate to pull him closer and into you.

“Yea,” he moaned as he finally gave in sliding into you, “I really fucking do.”

Whatever you were hoping to say, to taunt him with, instantly fell by the wayside once he was inside of you. There wasn’t a single word or coherent thought in your brain as you wound yourself as tightly around him as you could. Your legs squeezed him tighter, your arms reaching across his back so your nails could dig into him, leaving irrefutable evidence for him to look at the next day.

If you thought that the feeling of him kissing you made your head spin, this was about to send you into the next dimension. You always thought it was so cheesy when people said that it felt like someone was made just for them, but as Angel fought to thrust slowly, to make sure this lasted as long as it could, you couldn’t help but to feel like he really might’ve actually been made for you.

Your eyes were closed, just soaking up the feeling of him on top of you, inside of you, his lips and tongue trailing over your neck. If it had been possible, you would’ve dissolved right into him because of how good it all felt. The moans and whimpers he pulled out of you were ungodly, and they only served to spur him on even more.

Then you felt his teeth graze against the soft, sensitive skin of your neck. He didn’t bite down hard, so you let it go without comment, not wanting to interrupt the moment of bliss you were having if you could help it. He thrust into you harder, the moan you let out making your throat vibrate against his lips. He bit down a little harder, almost starting to suck a dark mark into the side of your neck when you pulled one hand from his back so you could plant it on his chest and push him away. Your body tried to fight you on it, but somehow you managed to win against yourself, putting just enough distance between you so that you could pull his lips back to yours.

“Angel,” you kissed him, “don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he pulled his lips away from yours and latched them back onto your neck. It felt like heaven but you knew it was going to be more trouble than it was worth if you didn’t stop him.

“Don’t, don’t leave any,” you stuttered for a moment when he changed his pace—it was almost a successful distraction, “No marks.”

You felt him chuckle against the column of your throat, the ticklish sensation of his beard against your skin. “Why not?” He kissed you. “Don’t want him knowing that someone else out there is giving you what he can’t?”

Trying to get him to show any self-control felt criminal, and also futile. “Yea, something like that.”

“No fun,” he murmured against you.

You had to laugh at that. “Really?” You carded your fingers through his hair as he pushed his hips to meet yours. “’Cause it feels like you’re having plenty of fun.”

Cupping his jaw, you pulled him back up to you and pulled his bottom lip between your teeth. Before your eyes fluttered closed, you saw the way that he relaxed, melting against you as his hands slid down to grip onto your hips. He held you steady as you continued to kiss him, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. He must’ve felt it, too, because he quickly caught your wrists in his hands, pinning them back against the arm of the couch.

The second he pulled his lips off of yours, your phone started to vibrate against the top of the coffee table. You both stilled, Angel leaning to look over and see who was calling. He chuckled as he looked back down at you. “I can answer it, if you want.”

“Don’t,” you sounded so breathless, “Don’t you dare.”

“You don’t want him hearin’ this?” he asked as he moved his hips, pulling another moan out of you.

You shook your head in protest but you couldn’t force anymore words out. Relief coursed through you when Angel dropped his head back down, kissing you hard on the lips before moving back to your next. You knew what he was going to do now that you weren’t going to be able to stop him. At this point you didn’t even care. The moan that came out of you when he sunk his teeth into your neck again let him know that you had no real intention of making him stop. You called out his name as you came undone around him, your legs tightening for a moment before going lax, only staying looped around his waist because of how close he had himself pinned to you.

He ran his tongue over the spot on your neck where his teeth had just been, like he was trying to soothe over the sting. It was the furthest thing from your mind, though, as you slowly started to come down from your high. You felt dizzy from it all as his forehead dropped against your shoulder. All of your limbs felt like they were made of jelly as you laid there, stars behind your eyes as Angel eagerly thrust into you. His grip around your wrists tightened, almost bruising as his movements got more intense.

The reality of everything that was happening burst to the forefront of your mind, and it should’ve made you feel badly, but it didn’t. Instead, it sent a second wave of bliss over your body as you wriggled your hands out of his grasp, immediately pulling his lips to yours. He didn’t fight you on it, pushing his tongue into your mouth, moaning as he came inside of you.

He collapsed on top of you, and you could feel the racing beat of his heart as his chest laid pinned to yours. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he tried to catch his breath. His hands wandered slowly back down to your legs, running over them, pulling warmth from them as they stayed wound around his hips. You let out a hum of contentment as he placed a few lazy kisses to your neck and what he could reach of your shoulder. If you could’ve, you would’ve laid like that all night.

After a few minutes, when both of you got your breathing and heartrates back under control, Angel slowly, carefully pulled out of you. You fought the impulse to whine, not wanting all of it to be over. But you knew that you had no right to be complaining about something being over when it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He placed a lazy string of kisses down your neck and over your clothed chest before getting himself to sit upright. He reached for his boxers on the floor, lifting his hips up off the couch just long enough to pull them on.

You pushed yourself up just enough to lean back against the arm of the couch. You crossed one leg over the other, pushing your skirt down a little bit like it made any fucking difference at this point.

“Hey,” you lifted your chin a little, waiting for him to look at you, “you good?”

He huffed out a laugh as he shook his head, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “I’m great.”

Your brain was still a little too muddled to be able to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He couldn’t make it easy. “What’re you thinking right now?” You paused. “Are you mad?”

He chuckled, a smile starting to curl the ends of his lips as he replayed everything that had just happened. “Fuck no.” He looked over at you, studying your face for a moment before asking, “How messy is this gonna get?”

“What?”

He motioned back and forth between the two of you. “This. Was this a one-time thing? You gonna finally break up with this dude? What’s the deal?”

And just like that, you came crashing down from your high. You dropped your head back against the armrest, staring up at the ceiling as you thought about your answer to his question. “I don’t know.” You dragged your hands down your face. “I know how awful that is.”

“Look,” he reached over, resting one hand on your knee, drumming his fingers, “I don’t give a shit about this guy, or hurting his feelings.” He saw the way you laughed at that. “I don’t. He wants to fuck things up with you? I’ll let him.” He paused, a shit-eating smirk taking over his face as he said, “And I’ll keep fuckin’ you while he’s doing it.”

“Angel!” you chastised him with a laugh.

“I’m serious.” He leaned down, grabbing his jeans so he could start to pull those on too. “I don’t give a fuck about him. But I’ve been tellin’ you, you’re wasting your time.”

“So, what, you think I should just leave him and be with you?”

Angel shook his head. “I didn’t say that. I mean, you should,” he laughed, “but I didn’t say that. Him being a waste of your time has nothing to do with me.”

“Really?” You laughed. “This feels like it has a lot to do with you.”

“Yea, ‘cause I was inside you like, two fuckin’ minutes ago,” he said with a laugh. He stood up, pulling his jeans up and buckling his belt back into place. “You gotta make that choice. I’ll be here, no matter what you end up doing, but,” he raked his fingers back through his hair, “this is your mess to figure out.”

“Why’d you come over, then?”

He shrugged. “I like you. You knew that, though.”

Your voice was quieter than you thought it was going to be as you said, “I know.”

He was about to go grab his boots when he saw the look on your face. “Want me to stay?”

You thought about it for a long moment before finally shaking your head. “I’ll be good. You know, when my legs start working again.”

Angel laughed and shook his head as went to grab his kutte and put his boots back on. You watched him, unable to wipe the smile off your face, or shake the jittery feeling still coursing through your body. You knew that you should feel guilty, and maybe you would in the morning. Or maybe you wouldn’t. It was all a mistake but it certainly didn’t feel like one yet.

He walked back over, standing beside the sofa like he had when he first got to your house. “You sure you’re gonna be good if I go?”

You looked up at him and nodded. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for the company.”

He smirked. “If that’s what you wanna call it.”

You rolled your eyes but you could feel your face getting warm. “Goodnight, Angel.”

He laughed, leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. “Night.” He walked back to the door. He was halfway through it when he turned and looked back over his shoulder at you, a smile on his face as he said, “Don’t forget to cover up that hickey.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him as he pulled the door shut behind him. Once again it was just the noise of the television filling your apartment. Reaching up, you lightly pressed your fingers against where Angel’s mark was, already thinking of the best way to cover it up.

[bunny-eats-fox]

lost on you | part XVI

MIYA ATSUMU X PLUS SIZE, FEMALE READER

words count : 5633

chapter warning : blood mentioned (nosebleed)

<< XV

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With a heavy sigh (because why could your brain never shut up?), you knew, no matter how often you told yourself, you would finally end it - for real this time! - you never would. Because, despite you constantly worrying and overthinking it, you secretly (or not so secretly) loved the attention Tsumu gave you. The way he made you feel loved and desired… even if he was faking it, probably, still made you feel special just for once. Even if you would never know his real reason and even if you were a little scared that, in the end, maybe he only did it to hurt you as a revenge for how you treated him the past years, you didn’t have it in you to end it. Though, when the day would come – and it inevitably would – when he would break this weird situationship off, you weren’t sure if you could handle that rejection.

Though despite knowing all that, you wanted to get “loved” for just a little longer, even if it was just a fake love; you wanted to indulge in the fantasy of “dating Osamu”, or whatever at that point, and continue the relationship  you had. Even if it meant more pain in the end, when it all would inevitably crumble to pieces.  You never imagined you would accustom so quickly to the way things were between you and Atsumu now, but being touch- and love-starved sure helped a ton with that. Although it sure was a little bit embarrassing and you wondered if he ever found you desperate…

Regardless, the whole “you would totally end it all for good this time” was yet another empty threat you told yourself to feel better about your childish little sarcastic comment you made.

“Hey, Senpai!”, Ruka’s sudden greeting made you jump. You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you didn't even hear her come inside.

“Ruka! What are ya doing here?”            

“Thought I’d come and help ya.”, she grinned and immediately got to work to fill up another tray with cups of water.

You were speechless for a second, but then quickly turned to her properly. As much as the thought of them dating honestly really annoyed you (and you hated that you couldn't even figure out why the hell it did to that extend), you had to apologize to her for being so sarcastically rude like a toddler.

“Thank ya Ruka, and I’m sorry. I… was really childish just now. The whole Osamu-Mia thing, ya know…it’s been rough, but that was still uncalled for, so I mean… if ya like Tsumu, we could try something an-“

“Oh my God, (Y/n)-senpai, noooo.”, she immediately waved her hands then crossed them to show an X, emphasizing her next words even more with that gesture, “Aaaabsolutely hell to the fuck no! Atsumu-senpai is objectively hot, yeah, and generally a nice guy and a great Senpai and friend, but that’s literally it. He is SO not my type. I don’t harbor any feelings for him that would go beyond friendship. His chaotic ass is someone else’s problem one day, deeeeeefinitely not mine.”, then she laughed and teasingly elbowed you.

“I just wanted to tease ya a little and it worked, hahaha. It’s okay. Ya didn’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

“Oh… Rukaaaaa”, you whined and then pouted, “Ya so mean, teasing me like that.”, then playfully and gently elbowed her back.

“I didn't think it would work on ya, Senpai, since it’s Atsumu-senpai, ya know? Or could it be… ya actually liiiike-”

“What no!?”, you hastily refused and laughed nervously, “Hell no. I mean.. like yer said, it’s Atsumu. His chaotic ass is someone else’s problem one day, not mine. I don't even like him like that, like yeah he is nice and funny and all, but still he’s my best friend, just that. I mean, we even shared a crib together, so I can’t even imagine feeling anything more than friendship for him, ya know?”

You knew damn well that Ruka did not buy that at all, her raised eyebrow and the suppressed grin didn't do a good job at hiding that either. But, she simply nodded in agreement and turned back to her tray.

“Mn, I totes get that, Senpai.”

With a small sigh, you were glad she just accepted your awkward way of explaining to her that you absolutely did not harbor any feelings for the older twin. Well, despite some sexual feelings, but that was normal, given the friends-with-benefits thing you’ve got going on, but other than that? You did not feel anything!

Thankfully, by the time you were done, both of you giggled again as you walked out of the Ryokan, each carrying a tray with cups of water.

Simply glad you didn’t make things awkward between Ruka and you, you walked back to the beach. Your conversation continued as you walked and you were simply happy you could forget about the weird situation you were in for a moment. Truly… only for a moment though.

As you walked to the spot with the volleyball net, the boys were in a heated battle still, but Ruka didn’t care at all. With a cheerful “(Y/n)-senpai and I are back, guys!” she got the attention of everyone. Well, no. She got the attention of one – only one.

The moment Atsumu heard your name, he physically couldn’t stop himself from turning his head. Since, the moment he realized you were gone, he had slightly less fun playing against his former team mates. So, naturally, when he heard you were back, he wanted to confirm and look for himself.

Oh, how foolish of him.

He watched as your face went from a smile to a panicked expression in just a second when you looked over. The next thing he heard was your frantic “Tsumu look out!” and when he inevitably looked up, there was no time to react as the volleyball landed directly in his face.

Now, it wasn’t just lightly served over the net. It was a full blown, full force spike from his brother that hit him right in the face. Safe to say, the force of the spike knocked him off his feet and he fell backwards into the sand, his hands immediately covering his aching face. A wave of embarrassment, and also pain, brought tears to his eyes.

“Miya-kun are you alright?!” Mia immediately yelled and ran up to him. Ugh, her voice made the throbbing pain even more unbearable.

When he glanced up, she, as well as the others, circled him as he laid there in the sand. Just hearing her “That looked really painful, are you alright!?” annoyed him so unbelievably much and he really wanted to shout at her to shut the fuck up for once and leave him alone. However, the moment he heard your “Tsumu! Ya good?!”, he didn’t feel that bad anymore.

“Yeah…” Though, when he finally moved his hands from his face, it probably didn’t look “good” to you and he probably knew why, when he felt something warm trickle down his nose to his lips. Tsumu witnessed something beautiful that moment when you, who stood further away, immediately pushed through Suna and Samu plus appendage (Mia) - as they stood closest to him - and shoved Osamu’s girlfriend to the side that way. She squeaked, stumbled and dramatically fell against her boyfriend. If only you would rush to see him without that worried expression on your face.

“Okay, come on. Sit up. Now.”, you said, grabbed his hands and pulled him into a sitting position. The blood immediately dripped faster and his knee-jerk reaction was to hiss a “Fuck!” and tilt his head back, but you knew better.

“Head down! Or do yer wanna drink ya own blood, idiot?”, you said and pushed his head down so the blood freely dropped onto the sand. Even that made his heart jump. After all, weren't you just worried about him? How was he not supposed to be happy about that?

Everyone just quietly watched once you plopped down in front of him, probably because they had such accidents back in high school and you had handled those as well, so they didn’t interfere with your work. Slowly, the circle disappeared, also thanks to Ruka who tried to bribe them with the cups of water. Though, all of that didn't matter to Atsumu any longer when you gently cupped his unscathed cheek and slightly turned his head.

“Do ya feel dizzy? Think yer can stand? Let’s see... Yer cheek’s all red and it seems like ya have a cut on the lip…Nose looks good though.”, you inspected his face and even though he knew it was the worst timing, Atsumu felt a little… shy? Because you were so close and also worried about him. It did make his heart flutter a little.

“Nah, not dizzy. Should be fine.”

“Okay, let’s go back though, just to be safe. That was no light spike, we gotta observe and make sure ya don’t have a concussion.” 

“Don’t worry so much, (Y/n), he’s an idiot with a head of steel. Honestly, I hope the volleyball’s okay.”, Samu made light of the situation.

“Samu!”, you immediately looked up with an angry scowl, making his twin visibly flinch and Atsumu thought he heard a small “My bad.”, before you turned back to him, “Let’s go.”

Akagi, Suna and Aran had to quickly look away, because that was awkward. Ruka was just stunned, because throughout all the years she knew you, she had never heard you talk back to Osamu like that. At least not in that sort of tone, usually you would have playfully “exhorted” him, but never meant too seriously. Samu looked a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable, since you would usually laugh at his stupid remarks to make fun of his brother.

But, no one was probably as shocked, to be quite honest, as Atsumu.

He wondered if anyone was capable of hearing his heartbeat because of how fiercely it thumped inside his chest. Atsumu didn’t even know what to say, he just let himself get pulled up by you into a standing position and accepted his t-shirt as a cloth for his blood. Even though he stumbled for a moment, he quickly gained back control over his limbs and was able to walk normally.

You had never told off Osamu before. Especially not in regards to him and that was even more amazing.

“Thanks.” That was all he managed to say, but you just shook your head and made sure to walk closely by his side, just so he wouldn’t suddenly stumble and fall.

The walk back to the Ryokan was wrapped in silence.

“Wait, lemme get the sand off ya or aunty will be livid if we drag that inside.”, you said once you reached the Ryokan and quickly started brushing it off. It showed him once more how comfortable you had become with one another, when you didn’t even think twice about it and patted the sand off his butt and worked your way down his legs to his ankles.

A small shiver ran down his spine, but he kept still otherwise. Who knew all he had to do was get a volleyball spiked in his face for you to be so cute and couple-y with him?

After that procedure, you went inside, snuck past his aunt, so she wouldn’t unnecessarily worry, and got back to your room for the week. Once you pulled out the big towel on the futon, so he could sit down, you looked at his face again.

“Okay, the bleeding has already stopped, so that’s a good sign. Do ya still feel okay? Not foggy or dizzy or anything? Vision’s good?”, you asked him all sorts of questions and Atsumu just nodded.

“All’s good. I’m getting a headache though, but I think that’s inevitable after getting spiked that hard. Otherwise, I’m a-okay.” He even gestured the “Ok”-sign with his fingers as he grinned a little.

“Good. Tell me if anything changes though. We don’t wanna risk anything.”

“Mn.”

Atsumu watched as you got a little something from your suitcase. When you came back to the futon, he realized it was a small emergency pouch.

“Always prepared, huh?”, he teased you and you just playfully slapped his arm with the back of your hand.

“Good thing I am always prepared for something to go wrong, huh? Ever since we were little, ya would get into a fight with Samu or do something else stupid and hurt yourself.”

Now that it seemed he was okay, Atsumu was happy to see you were visibly more relaxed and teased him back.

“I know. Thanks for always being prepared and helping me out.”, he earnestly said.

“It’s okay… I guess that’s my cross to bear being friends with two hotheaded idiot twins.”, you dramatically sighed and in the end, you both chuckled before you properly tended to the wound on his lip.

For a few moments, he was quiet as you dabbed disinfectant solution on his lip and cleaned the small cut. Then he said, “Thank you, though. Not only for that, but also for standing up for me against Samu.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t call it “standing up” per se, he just said something stupid that was totally unnecessary in that situation, but yeah. No problem.”, you smiled at him so cutely he seriously couldn’t help himself anymore.

Thus, he interrupted your cleaning and leaned forward, kissing you fully on your lips, even if his stung a little. Sadly, you pulled back almost immediately. However, not because, as he believed, you were uncomfortable, rather because you were worried.

“Oii ya dummy, doesn’t that hurt??”

“Mnnn…”, he playfully tilted his head back and forth to ‘think’, though then he grinned, “A little. But it’s fine, I wanna kiss yer fully or … do ya hate it…?”

“Well it did feel a little weird and the disinfectant’s kinda gross…”, you got a little quieter at the end and before he could even say something, you had already cupped the cheek that was spared from the spike and leaned in for another kiss.

Atsumu was confused at first when he felt your touch, but the second your soft lips brushed against his, he was smitten. Reaching out to cup your own cheek, he pulled you in closer. He didn’t care about the slight burn, all he felt was that twinge in his stomach he always got when his feelings for you were about to explode. Seriously, he was just so happy, despite getting spiked in the face.

When he pulled back, Atsumu couldn’t contain his stupid happy grin. Though you just sighed and playfully shook your head with an eye roll, before you got back to treating his small wounds.

“So, do yer wanna take a shower to get all the sand off and then lie down?”, you asked while you put away your emergency pouch again.

“Mnnn maybe. My head’s kinda hurting and sleep would probably fix it but I dunno, I don’t wanna stay inside. You?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s such a nice day, but I mean, ya should probably really rest up after that hit. I honestly think I’ll just do my nails if I already have the time. They do be looking a little ugly because of all the exam stress. And I did bring my polish and stuff… Mhnn…”

He watched as you inspected your nails that were usually painted, though now most of the polish had flaked off. Atsumu knew, because it was an open secret he loved looking at you, so of course he also noticed the little details. Besides, he absolutely loved it when you had freshly painted nails, because it just looked so good with your hand wrapped around his co-

“So? What d’ya think? Wanna join me outside for a painting session or wanna stay here and rest up until the others come back from their hike?”, you interrupted his naughty thoughts and he immediately got bashful, as if you had just caught him in a very risqué situation.

Coughing a little, he tried to calm down again and then looked up to meet your eyes.

“Yeah I’ll join ya. Just gimme 10 minutes and I’m ready.”

15 minutes later, you and Atsumu sat down at one of the benches the Ryokan offered as a form of relaxation. He sat across from you, watching as you put your nail polish and other things onto the table.

“Ya know… I’m actually happy that happened.”

“Excuseee me, (Y/n)?”, he dramatically exclaimed and faked a shocking expression.

“No!”, you laughed and softly kicked his shin, “I didn’t mean it like that. I wish ya didn’t have to get injured for that. But ya know… getting away from Mia and Samu, just... having a little time to breath and think. I feel like everything that happened in the last like two months is insane and happened in such rapid succession. I mean, them…then the thing we’ve got going on, final exams, this trip. Like it’s crazy how quickly time flies, really.”

With his head leaning on his arms that rested on the table, he could only nod and grumble in approval. A lot did happen in such a short amount of time, but, his goal was still clear: Make you fall in love with him and forget his brother. No matter how long it took or how much he would get hurt in the process, if you would confidently and with all your heart choose him over Samu one day, he could die happy. And if one day, you chose someone else as your partner, he would stop trying, but until that day, Atsumu was not ready to give up.

“All good? The stank of the acetone is not too bad?”

The way you worriedly asked him was just adorable. He shook his head with a happy little smile adorning his lips, “Everything’s fine.”, and then he continued to watch as you removed the old polish and prepped your nails.

Honestly, as he watched you file and shape your nails, he wondered if you would do it to him as well. More jokingly than anything, Atsumu then reached out his hand and shook it a little as he asked with an amused undertone, “Can ya do mine, too?”

For a second, you seemed confused, which was to be expected, but he didn’t think you would euphorically take his hand and nod in excitement.

“Hell yeah. Ya know, my secret dream was always to become a nail tech, if uni or something didn’t work out that was like my backup plan, so I’d actually love to do that. Can I paint them too?”

You looked up with a sparkle in your beautiful eyes – that’s when he knew he could never possibly say no to that.

“Sure, I mean I asked and a little bit of polish doesn’t hurt.”

“Awesome. I did bring my forest green polish with me ‘cuz I thought it’d matched with the vibes around the Ryokan pretty well. It does have some sparkle to it though…”

“I don’t mind, gimme.”

Quite honestly, watching you smile and be so happy about this, truly made him the happiest. After all the shit you went through over the last weeks, seeing you ecstatic like that warmed his heart. If he knew he could make you happy just by offering to get his nails painted by you, he would have done that sooner. And to top it off, he could feel your touch as you held his hand and worked on it, so this was truly a win-win situation for him.

“Ya know, I always thought you had pretty hands before, but looking at them this closely… yer really taking good care of them, damn.”, you giggled as you got to work.

“Yer thought my hands were pretty?”, he teased you instantly, because if not, you might have heard how his inner self was kicking his feet and screaming like a little girl because of that simple statement.

Safe to say, you immediately got shy and grumbled, “Kinda…”

“Geez why did ya have to make this weird now?” And his punishment quickly followed when you pinched between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Ow, ow, ow! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just happy.”, he chuckled and whined at the same time.

Why were you so fricking adorable all the time?! You would be the death of him one day.

“Yer so cute…” Atsumu didn’t even realize at first that he hadn’t just thought this, he had also mumbled it. And he only realized that when you kicked his shin again and embarrassingly whined, “Shut up, seriously! No one thinks that besides you, yer so weird!”

But, of course, you had to go ahead and grumble so cutely; though it was surely almost over for him when you looked through your eyelashes all ‘angry’ and then back to his nails again with a little pouty “Hm!”.

Atsumu was so happy, he miserably failed at hiding his stupid happy grin, hence why he buried his face in his still resting arm. The slight stinging and burning of his wounds was the only thing that confirmed that he wasn’t dreaming. He knew you had gotten closer, but witnessing it like that in every interaction you two had, made him so giddy - like a little kid who got a basket full of candy each day. Even if you weren’t a couple (yet) and even if he had to wait many months more, just knowing the relationship you once had as best friends was almost back to where it was, still felt like a big accomplishment to him. Because, despite wanting to touch you, kiss you and just shower you with love, getting back to just doing stupid shit and laughing with you, teasing each other and playfully bicker; all that was also something he had missed a ton.

“I’m so glad we got closer again.” Atsumu said quietly with a blissful smile on his lips.

For a second, you stopped and he felt your eyes on him, hence he looked up and smiled directly at you. When you returned the gestured and smiled at him as well, his heart did a small jump.

“Yeah, me too. I truly forgot how much fun we used to have. I wish I would have never realized my feelings for him, then maybe… we could have stayed that way forever. I got so awkward with Samu and I definitely hurt our friendship with that, too…” You suddenly stopped working on his hand and he realized your glazed eyes once he looked up. “Haha sorry, uhm …”, you fanned yourself, hoping not to start crying.

“I’m sorry Tsumu, really.”, you said with a quiver in your voice, “For how I treated ya. It’s really okay if you actually hate me.”

Quickly, he jumped up, completely ignoring his headache at this point, and rushed around the table to hug you, almost knocking you off the bench due to his force. Thus, you could only hold onto him and accept the tight embrace.

“’s fine. Yer apologize so often and I already told ya it’s okay. I would never hate you, you idiot! Besides…”, he pulled back a little and gently wiped away your tears, “I was never mad or anything, just sad we had this rift between us. So yah… it’s okay now. Really.”   

You looked at him for a second, before he had to hold back a small chuckle when you buried your face in his t-shirt again.

“Thank you. And sorry I got emotional. Our friendship has taken such a weird turn, I… sometimes still don’t know what to think of it. And I’m scared yer gonna use it to take revenge on me for how shitty I’ve treated you as my friend.”

“(Y/n), I… would never. Do ya seriously think so low of me?”, he whispered and hugged you almost a little painfully tight.

“Then… can you tell me the real reason… Why you asked me that time to sleep with you? Why you wanted us to start pretend dating?”

When you looked up to meet his eyes, it took his breath away, but not in a nice sort of way. Because, truthfully, he was a little too stunned to speak. There was no way in hell he could tell you the truth yet. The thought that he might like you, probably never even crossed your mind. Heck, he just found out you basically thought he still hated you secretly.

“I…It’s uhm…”, he stumbled over his words and quickly avoided eye contact, “It’s a little complicated… But I told yer before, right?” Atsumu grabbed your cute, chubby cheeks and kissed you, not caring that any minute his aunt or your friends could come around the corner and see you two. “I already told ya I didn’t ask out of pity or anything, I… just want to help yer get over Samu. Even if it’s a weird way to do that.”

Tsumu couldn’t even take his own lie seriously, but somehow, you seemed okay with that and just nodded. Tough he wished he could read your mind, he couldn’t look into that beautiful little head of your and so, the setter was just happy you accepted his horrible lie. Instead, he squeezed your soft body and snuggled you, simply content that you even allowed him to do that, because a few weeks ago that would have been impossible.

However, as beautiful and intimate that moment felt, it was soon destroyed by a voice that made him gag, “We are baa-AAAACK!?”

It sounded sweet at first and then quickly turned into shock when she saw you two in this tight embrace. Honestly, Mia’s reaction was quite funny, but Atsumu was bracing himself for your inevitable shove, however… it… didn’t come? Instead, you lowered your arms without any haste and then wiped away your tears.

“Ahw no, everything okay, Senpai?”, Ruka was genuinely worried when she was your tears.

“Yeah. Tsumu and I just reconciled and I got a little emotional.”, you smiled and somehow, the boys had a relieved kind of look on their face. Well, they had witnessed your relationship with Atsumu decline over the years, so they were probably just happy for him.

“Soo what were you two doing, hm? Miya-kun, are you sure you’re okay? Shouldn’t you rest up, hm?”, Mia gave herself air and he seriously couldn’t stand it.

“Aahhh damn it, I wanted to do my nails before y’all got back!”, you then exclaimed all of a sudden and Atsumu, who had just fobbed her off with a “Yeah, yeah ‘s fine.”, added, “And mine!”

“Y’all were doing nails?”, Ruka immediately dashed to the table, “Me too, me too.”

You had let go of him again, which was a little sad, but he resisted the urge to go too far and accepted it. Instead, he sat down beside you on the bench while everyone else also came over.

“Can I see the color?”, Rin asked and you immediately gave the polish to him.

“Ya said yer bf’s a nail tech, right? I’m so jealous, imagine yer lover can get yer nails done for ya, I’d love that.”, you giggled and Suna just blushed a little and sat down on the bench opposite of you and Atsumu.

“Yah, he always wants to do something on mine but I just don’t really like the feeling of something on my nails, so yeah… He gets pretty disappointed at times.”, he chuckled and quickly, the conversation had once again reached a nice flow when Aran started talking about his fiancée’s nail, which then turned into Kita telling his story about how he had to maintain his grandma’s nails because she couldn’t properly clip and file them herself without her wrists and fingers aching afterwards.

So, this small insignificant thing turned into a whole conversation and Atsumu completely forgot to ask why they were already here (didn’t they want to walk around the village and hike up the mountain or something?) and instead, he enjoyed the atmosphere. Hanging around with his friends after such a long time truly was just really a joyous experience. Besides, watching Mia out of the corner of his eyes, struggling to fit in and contribute to the conversation was hilarious to him.

That’s what she got for imposing on your trip!

“Sooo.. what happened to the hike? Already had a tour through the village?”, you then asked once the conversation had calmed down again.

“Well you see-“

“Osamu-kun and I were pretty worried about Miya-kun, so I said I wanted to get back and check on you. Right?”, Mia interrupted Omimi rudely and then turned to her boyfriend for support.

It’s only been the second day, but Atsumu could feel the tension between everyone else and Mia and it certainly got worse every time she opened her mouth.

“Yah, I didn’t mean to spike it so hard, sorry bro.” Osamu reached out his hand and ruffled his twin’s hair.

“Mnn, it’s fine.”

Atsumu shooed his hand away and then frowned.

“Honestly, my head’s kinda killing me so… I might get inside and get some rest if that’s okay with y’all?”

Everyone nodded with a sound of approval, though before he could stand up, he felt your hand on his that stopped him for another second.

“Ya feel dizzy too? Lightheaded?”

He inwardly squeed and felt a heart-squeeze. He loved you so much, he just wanted to scream it from the rooftops for fuck’s sake! Ugh!

“Yah a little maybe, can ya help me? Or I might hit my head again.”

And he totally milked it, but when he saw the little glint in your eyes, he knew you probably weren’t too disappointed.

“Sure. Just a sec.”

“Maybe yer should tell yer aunt and get it checked out though?”, Aran suggested, however, Atsumu quickly waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Naaahh. If it gets worse in a few hours I’ll think about it. For now, I’ll just rest until lunch and it should be perfectly fine.”

“Well, if ya say so…”, Akagi begrudgingly said with a worried face and everyone else seemed to be a little worried about it as well. Though Atsumu assured them that everything was fine if he would just get some rest, besides…

“I’ll have (Y/n) in the room with me if anything were to happen, so ‘s gonna be fine.”

With that, Atsumu didn’t want to hear any more and they understood, but of course, one person didn’t really get the hint that it was enough.

“Are you sure (Y/n)-chan can help you? What if you really have a concussion and you have to vomit or something? Or you get a seizure?”

“Don’t worry Mia, the only person who could get through to this stubborn idiot then would be (Y/n) anyways.”, Osamu tried to calm down his girlfriend. He was either really oblivious and naïve or straight up dumb, because even Atsumu found it ridiculous at this point how “worried” Mia was about him.

“But-“

“’s fine.”, he repeated and interrupted her. Atsumu looked down on her as he stood up, enjoying it just slightly how she flinched under his unamused gaze, “Like Samu said: All I need is (Y/n) anyways if anything were to happen.”

“Oh my God, yer so fucking dramatic Tsumu. Shut up and come on, I thought ya needed rest?”, you walked past him and playfully “angrily” slapped his shoulder (to mask your shyness possibly?).

In the corner of his eye, he only saw Ruka and the guys exchanging a look that said “Daaaayum”, before he followed you. Or rather, you had waited for him and then went alongside him to make sure he wouldn’t suddenly really get sick or anything.

Successfully, you and Tsumu snuck past his aunt, so again, she wouldn’t get worried seeing his little injury. Thus, once you reached your room for the week, you sighed a little and put your nail polish back into your little bag. He did feel a little guilty you couldn’t paint your nails.

“Sorry, let’s do ‘em tonight if the weather allows it?”

“Ah yeah, no problem. It was unfortunate timing. But damn, ya ran away from Mia again, even though sHe WaS sO wOrRiEd AbOuT yOu.”, you mocked her and then laughed when you looked up and saw his face that also displayed pure annoyance.

“She should worry about her own damn boyfriend and leave me the fuck alone.”, he mumbled and suddenly plopped down behind you.

“Nehh?”, he hugged your plush form and whispered, “Let’s rest together, yeah?”

You looked behind you and were confronted with his puppy eyes, which, with the blue bruise on his cheek and the injured lip, were even more effective (he hoped at least). For a moment, he watched your internal struggle, before you just sighed and nodded.

“Fine. Let’s rest together, but this time sir – no touching or anything, yer just gonna rest for real, capiche?”

“Aye, aye ma’am.”

You looked at each other for a moment, before you both inevitably had to laugh.

Yeah.

He loved that.

The mood was just great.

Atsumu knew he had never been closer to you before in his life than in that point in time. And no Mia or someone else was going to get between you and him, not after he had finally closed that rift again after so long.

Whatever happened from now on, he just felt it everywhere in his body, his soul and heart: He got so much closer to his goal and he was not accepting any setbacks anymore.

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

next part (XVII) >> || masterlist

all characters canonically under 18 are always aged up in explicit nsfw situations ; english is not my native language so i apologize for any mistakes

Tag List: (🥺💕)

@kelly-fushiguro345

[teezyfbby]

Crocheting this skirt took me months fr. think about 40 hours in total. I don’t think I’m the fastest crocheter but I’m okay with that. Im trying to no longer feel the need to be quick when I do everything even though its pressured onto to me because of societes need for constant productivity. BUT ANYWAYSSS.

you can buy it here :) https://www.etsy.com/listing/1450984712/lace-crochet-maxi-skirt-in-natural-white

I lfooking love it mi. She’s super pretty. I used 100% pima cotton yarn in the colour natural white. I can’t remember the thickness of the yarn but I used a 2,5mm hook. Been tryna push this on my website I made imma post the process of me making that on here at some point I worked really hard on it. I fuck with the vision im tryna create with my crochet shit it gets me really excited. Im at Parsons right now and I feel like the more I get sucked into school the more I forget about what gets me really excites which is why it took me so long to make this skirt. I wanna start selling my shit and getting my name and brand out there in the creative world cause there’s.so much shit I wanna do like I got so many ideas fr. I wanna be a furniture designer eventually. For now. But yh. Any tips on how to start selling ya shit. I find pushing it on social media like instagram and tiktok really annoying cause I feel like the atmosphere is really competitive almost like a operate workspace but on a digital setting. Trine pasta algorithms n shit. I just wanna find real people who fuck with what I do and value things that I value you know. But yh I put it up on Etsy and thinking bout putting it up on depop. On the website I created a bidding system cause I thought that would be a really great way to establish the interest on a piece, considering id only be selling one of kind items and not creating anything more than once. I just really see it as a form of art you know and not some mini fast fashion business where I just make as many things as quickly as possible and try sell em all. But yurrrrrrrrr

Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1450984712/

My website: https://tonithebrand.framer.website

[stuckybarton]

Heads Under Water II

Summary: In which you find your epiphany. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Atlantean Descendant! Filipino! Female Reader. Word Count: 1,360 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Smoking. Mention of Death.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Join the Library (no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Part II:

You did hate any bodies of water—when you are forced to be in the middle of it.

But it was a whole different story to be able to just settle yourself by the sands, watching the waves to and fro—almost daring them to come for you. It was fucked up, if you were to be completely honest with yourself, but it made you miss home for once and you wanted to look at something that reminds you of home—as terrible of a phobia it might give you.

Taking another hit of your vape pen, you had inquired Shuri if it was allowed before and she had seemed alright with it for as long as you did so in an open space and away from her mother’s eyes (fear of you influencing her somehow the major worry). You allowed the smoke to cover your vision for a moment, letting the events of the day slowly wash away from your mind.

Aside from the numerous projects you would be helping Shuri out with, you were volunteered into helping out a neighboring nation’s infrastructure and eventually led to roam parts of Wakanda and it was what led you to be in this very position that you know want to be something you would frequent from now on during your stay.

Sitting on a tree stump in the middle of the beach, the cool winds flowing against your skin, and the warm and rather minty sting of the smoke against your lung—it was, perfect. A perfect way to end the night. Lips clasped onto the vape pen, but before you could take another hit your eyes moved to the waters at the sudden change of the waves.

A head, just above waters had practically had you screaming in terror but the man was gone long before you could think if it was a real person or if your mind was playing tricks on you. Shaking your head, you stood up, believing you have finally had a long day.

But as the waves moved, it had become more violent even without the change of winds or the presence of a storm.

Before you could leave, the sound of your phone was quick to distract you—it was Tony and you were uncertain if it would be a good thing or a bad thing to talk to him right now. Eventually on the third annoying ring, you had answered the call and the sight of your boss’ hologram had you falling back onto your previous seat, readying for what he has to say.

“So how was the first day?” He inquired to which you gave him an empty look but said nothing. “Caught you in an awful time, Y/N?”

“No Tony, I just got done with work.” You sighed relenting and decided to give the man a break. “I’m making progress on the first day.” You continued, taking another much needed hit if you were to deal with him.

“You really need to stop with the smoking, you know that shit still fucks with your lungs.” He points out to which you chose to ignore and taking another hit just to spite him.

“Tony, we’re practically the same age at this point, so I don’t think it’s a good idea to have you act like a father to me.” You snort.

“Sometimes I wonder why I still bother with you.” He muttered looking away for a moment before turning his attention right back to you. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, please let me know and I’ll send out someone to help you out, okay?”

“I can handle things here, Tony.” You reassured your boss. “How’s your own progress in New York?” You inquired right back.

“Same old, same old.” He muttered. This was the thing with Tony, he loved to be nosy with anyone else’s business, but not his own. He kept his card close and that was one of the many reasons you could never truly trust him. He would say one thing and do another more times than you could truly handle.

But the straw that finally broke the camel’s back was when it was your creation that caused the death of more people than you could even attempt to count all those years ago. You had told him time and time again that your machine was still in the early stages and should not be used yet—he didn’t listen, he disregarded your warnings and lives were paid as a consequence of it all.

A guilt that wasn’t truly your own.

You could still remember the faces of family members during the court hearing. All blaming you for something you did not have a hand in. It was nightmare that you never truly woke up from even as the years have passed and everyone else had moved on.

Many still wondered why you stayed—you even wonder at times, but as you find yourself here in Wakanda, you might finally change your mind. Even after all the things Tony has put your through, he had helped you reached your full potential that you would never have if you stayed in the Philippines, if you remained a Professor that barely made ends meet.

He had given you a chance when no one would even bat an eye at you.

But owing someone has its limits. As you stayed in Wakanda and all the vision they have for you, you were slowly finding your own in this moment.

“Okay.” You relent, no longer giving the effort to press him.

“That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“You would usually annoy me for an answer by now.”

You said nothing, watching Tony’s hologram move closer to you, leaning in to look at you closer—far too close for your own comfort (even if he was a hologram).

“I’m heading to bed, Tony. Good Night.” You muttered instead when you didn’t break from his stare.

You didn’t let him speak, hanging up on him and once again staring at the waters. Once again seeing the head before you decided you’ve had enough for the night and headed back to your bedroom. ~ “You look good in a dress, Doctor.” You wanted to believe that Everett Ross was having a foot-in-mouth reaction the first moment you’ve opened the door to your room when he knocked. He looked surprised by his own sentiment as he refused to meet your eyes.

You blushed at his sentiment. In the rare chances that you had met with the man back in New York, you were always wearing “work” clothes which consisted of jeans and a sweatshirt—or on a professional setting a simple pant suit. This was—as far as you could remember, the first time in a long while that you had something a little more—feminine on.

You felt a little more comfortable as the both of you now walked your way towards the throne room with the Dora Milaje escorting the both of you. You wanted to think it was the more about feeling empowered with all was said and done. Working with a woman instead of another man somehow does it for you.

“We will also be meeting the King of Talokan for today.” Agent Ross had pointed out the closer you both were to the throne room.

“Who?”

“It’s a long story.” He points out.

You accepted his answer knowing it might just be so. You know your geography as much as the next guy but never once have you ever heard of a country by such a name. Was it as much as a secluded country here in Africa as Wakanda was?

Eventually as you both have made your way inside, you were greeted with three beings that were far different from what you would expect. Two out of the three had blue skin and from the looks of it, some sort of breather covering their mouth and nose. But the man that stood tall in the middle wasn’t normal either—the wings on his feet were far too much of an indicator of it.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

[why-am-i-here-someone-save-me]

may i ask for a one shot of a scaramouche x reader with this prompt?

instead of moving on from reader’s death in a healthy way, he attempts to raise them from the dead. he accidentally isekai’s reader from the modern world to teyvat instead. the two readers are completely different from each other.

(thank you very much if you decide to do this!)

Ooooo! Inspiration has been acquired! 🤩

Second Chances

Scaramouche had believed he was immune to betrayal at this point. Three times he’d been backstabbed, he wasn’t going to let there be a fourth opportunity. Until that is, he met you.

Something about you was different in a way he couldn’t quite describe. You felt… ‘real’. You made him feel real.

Despite his insistence to not let himself be hurt again, some way, somehow, you managed to slip past the walls he’d built up, through all the safeguards and fronts he’d constructed. For far too long he’d chosen to ignore this fact, to pretend as though you were of no significance to him, even when the thought of something harming you made his face curl up into a snarl and his hands turn to fists in anger.

The Balladeer’s arms shook ever so slightly as he pulled your weakened form into him.

“H-Hey! Don’t you dare die on me [Name]!”

The words were hollow, and he knew it all too well. Scaramouche was no stranger to death, he’d witnessed it countless times. But this time it wasn’t just anyone at the crossroads to death’s door, it was you. He knew it, even as he lied to himself that you’d be fine, he knew he was lying to you both. He knew enough about death to know that there was nothing he could do now, not anymore. He knew, yet he still kept telling you to ‘hang on’, that ‘you couldn’t just leave him too’, that ‘you weren’t allowed to go yet’, even as the warmth of your wounded form was replaced by the chill of the dead, he continued.

Some say that the Balladeer was broken in some kind of way.

After losing you, those words took on a different meaning.

Loosing you had truly broken him.

The sacrifices he’d had to make just to learn how to reach you had been blood-soaked and brutal. Despite that he’d done it all without hesitation, even his usual hostility absent in his actions. Gone were the snappy remarks, the annoyed huffs, and the frustrated insults. Scaramouche was indifferent throughout his search, completely unphased by everything that happened.

Violet eyes scanned over yellowed pages as he read a tattered book. It was penned in a language he’d been unfamiliar with, but for the sake of seeing you again, he’d kept trying to learn it again and again. The ink on the page had long since become faded, enough that his eyes were nearly aching from the strain, but he refused to wait. He’d waited long enough, he wasn’t going to wait a moment longer.

The dim room was lit by flashes of light as a crack seemed to form in the air itself. It grew longer, before the deep cracks gave way to a void. It was somehow as black as night, yet the more he looked at it, the more bright it became, flashes of color illuminating the dim room. Scaramouche managed to tear his attention away from the rift, suppressing a shudder. Looking at it felt wrong, it was as though it was entirely right, but also somehow wrong in every way.

A thump comes from the rift, and he quickly turns back around. There’s a figure lying on the floor under the rift, which seems to shrink away into nothingness in front of his eyes. The person’s clothing is odd, but they begin to stir before he can observe more.

“Ahhh, fuuuuck. Okay that is the last time I mix caffeine and sugar with an hour of sleep!”

They sit up with a groan, annoyance clear on their face, though upon examining the surroundings, it quickly becomes confusion.

“What the hell? The fuck am I?”

They finally see the other occupant in the room, and waste no time in making a snide remark.

“Oh lovely, a weeb with a frisbee hat. Great, fantastic, wonderful, why the hell not at this point?!”

The Balladeer meanwhile, was frozen in shock. That voice was yours, and that was your face, no question about that, but you were acting… odd.

“[Name]?”

Your familiar [Color] eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. “…Ayo how the hell do you know that?! You a stalker? Where the fuck am I? And who the fuck are you?!”

His world froze for a moment. Who was he? Surely you were joking right? This had to be a trick, right? You knew his name, both his codename and his real one, so why did your eyes look so confused? There wasn’t a single hint of familiarity in them, none at all. The harbinger tries to speak, but his voice fails him. It takes him a few more attempts to find his voice.

“You’re back… Don’t leave me like that again [Name]!”

“Back? Leave? Huh? The fuck? Look do you usually have a hobby of picking up random incapacitated people or just me?! Actually wait don’t answer that, I’m still going to think your creepy regardless of your answer.”

The man was stunned silent. The person in front of him looked like you, they sounded like you, but they clearly weren’t you. Not the you he knew at least.

But that was fine. He would have plenty of time to get to know this ‘new you’. After all, it’s not like he could risk losing you again, so he’ll make sure you stay close to him just in case.

You weren’t getting the chance to desert him a second time, he’d make sure of that.

[orowyrm]

let's talk about the way we talk about sigma

and i’m not just saying this because i’m a hater or because i find the woobification of characters annoying (although i am, and i do, but that’s neither here nor there) but i AM saying it cuz it’s no longer mildly annoying so much as it is just hurtful and exhausting due to the casual ableism it perpetuates. whether it’s consciously or not, it’s there and i’m pointing it out cuz a lot of people probably don’t even realize what they’re saying (i hope) so i wanna spell it out crystal clear.

*granted, these are sentiments i’ve seen far more often on twitter or tiktok than on here (and i know complaining about stupid takes on either site is like going to the beach and getting mad about all the sand, but bear with me) but it’s ABSOLUTELY something that i see a lot on here too and i'm starting to get incredibly fed up with it all. someone's gotta fuckin say it.

im going to put the majority of this under a readmore because i've got a lot to say on the topic but here's the long and short of it:

you guys have GOT to stop acting like sigma is a poor little helpless confused manipulated innocent little uwu baby. like, for real. stop saying that shit. stop lamenting about “waahhh poor science granpa doesn’t know where he is or what’s happening around himmm 🥺🥺🥺”. stop acting like he’s being held captive or abused by talon despite evidence to the contrary so you can make your little “uwu i can’t wait for overwatch to save him and Fix Him uwuwuw” posts. and for the love of all that’s holy, if i see one more person say or imply that he was better off when he was being forcibly institutionalized than he is now working for talon, i’m going to start fucking attacking people with my teeth like a chimpanzee.

it's incredibly fucking weird and alienating for literally anyone who experiences even a fraction of the things yall are pointing out as proof of his incompetence. and before any of you hit me with the "oh it's not that deep 🙄" im gonna tell you right now that i dont care and im going to be mad about it anyway cuz its my party and i can post whatever i want.

ANYWAY!!

to continue my point, not only is it weird and infantilizing and demeaning and belittling to those of us who deal with literally any of the myriad of things going on with him that i’ve seen people point to as proof that he ‘needs to be fixed’ — memory lapses, time loss, dissociation, auditory hallucinations, disordered thought, just straight up being autistic, hyperfocus and/or complete lack of focus, panic attacks or meltdowns, i cannot overstate how many of the ‘weird’ things he does are just autistic traits so i’m gonna say it a second time for good measure — and those are all just things that i personally have in common with him (which is part of the reason i’m as mad about this as i am to make this post, but i digress).

to single out these things, all of which are completely reasonable for someone who is autistic, who is traumatized, who suffered through a prolonged period of forced confinement, and/or who has literal brain damage, and NONE of which are nearly as tragic and doomed as people are making them out to be, that’s all bad enough on its own!

but to point out these traits and then turn around and use them to color every single interaction he has with another character, every single thing he says, and tie it back to his traaaagic broken mind and how he’s clearly losing his grip on reality just feels… insanely othering in a way that’s really exhausting.

like, for fucks sake, a solid 80% of his character interactions could be lifted near verbatim from conversations i’ve had in real life with my friends, family, coworkers, you name it, all of which were friendly and usually in jest — hell, 9/10 times when i let out a random non sequitur or lose my train of thought or forget what i’m doing, nobody even bats a fucking eye! they sure as hell don't accuse whoever i’m talking to of abusing me because they expressed mild annoyance at my bad joke.

i’ve genuinely seen someone get all worked up and construe his one interaction with sombra where he comments on her tendency to disappear and reappear in odd places as evidence that he’s got dementia and is slipping away from reality altogether… and not, yknow, a nod to her fucking cloaking ability and translocator and the fact that she uses both very frequently just for the hell of it. that one still fucking baffles me i'm sorry. if i hadn't seen it with my own eyes i'd honestly think it was a joke. like. cmon now

another thing that makes it even worse is that most of this is also just…. not even grounded in canon. if this was the way blizz was writing him, it’d be one thing. it would still be shitty and ableist, but blizzard handling their oooh spooky scary mentally ill character badly is about as surprising as the sun rising every morning. i can't say i wouldn't still be upset to see people continuing to perpetuate it, but i wouldn't be AS mad, i guess.

but SO. MANY. of the popular takes on his character are either never concretely stated or outright contradicted by his ingame dialogue and interactions and it drives me insane!!! idk WHERE y’all are getting this shit but so many people are reaching so hard to make him a tragic sad uwuwuw glass bones and paper skin pathetic little meow meow that they’re going out of their way to misinterpret source material so they can shout from the rooftops about how sad and pathetic and unaware they think people like me must be.

i keep seeing people talk about how he probably has no idea that talon is a terrorist group, that he doesn’t know what talon IS, or that he doesn’t even know that he WORKS for talon, and it’s starting to go from mildly annoying to infuriating. this shit has literally no basis in canon aside from conjecture based on the fact that he’s Known to be mentally ill!! i don't see even half as many people getting this all up in arms about widow, who we KNOW FOR A FACT was literally kidnapped and experimented on and brainwashed by talon. like. that's her WHOLE THING. meanwhile sig literally just works there and people are clamoring for ovw to come """""rescue"""""" him as if hes like, a lab animal or something instead of a grown man who happens to not be particularly bothered by the fact that he works for talon.

this is something that's addressed in game MULTIPLE TIMES - he’d far prefer to watch an ant crawl on the ceiling than listen to s76 trying to ‘talk sense into him’, not because he can’t hear him or anything either, it’s pretty clear from his tone and cadence that he’s actively choosing to ignore him. when baptiste points out the fact that he’s fully capable of leaving talon if he wanted to, he doesn’t deny it or act confused or like that’s a strange thing to say, he just seems a little bemused that someone would think he WANTS to leave. yeah, he sure could— but why would he bother?

he's not "totally unaware of what he's doing" in the fucking slightest - hell, i'd argue that his new map-exclusive lines and interactions prove that he's MORE grounded now than he was in ovw1. yes, he gets a little confused on occasion when he can't quite remember the last time he's been somewhere. (memory lapses are just kind of like that. i had several while writing this post, in fact! it just fucking happens sometimes. it's really not the end of the world. frustrating, yeah, but i promise you we can manage just fine).

i guess the question i'm asking is: is it really all that difficult for to fathom that he might just... WANT to be there? that he might just straight up not care what talon is up to, so long as he's able to keep doing his research as he sees fit??

and for the record, before anyone takes this and runs with it and we lose the plot of this post, i am NOT SAYING that the very idea of wanting him to leave talon is #problematic or anything. i dont care, really. do whatever you want. what i do care about is just like.... being mindful about what we're saying and WHY we're saying it. it's reaching a point where people are somehow managing to look at the ass backwards already ableist as hell decisions blizz has already made with him and decided "hey, i bet i can find a way to make that even worse!"

[oonajaeadira]

I’ll Never Fall In Love Again: Scene 5: You May Now Kiss the Bride

Fandom: The Bubble

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader 

Warnings: none. A little rusty wordcraft after some time away.

A/N: This one’s a bit longer, stuffed with a bunch of half memories and a swirl of rushed, weighty moments. I could have split this one in two but didn’t really want to. It should be a whirlwind, and for that, I do not apologize.

The intimacy coordinator doesn’t seem to know that you and Dieter were–are–married. Not interested. No assumptions. Two actors, professional agenda, plain as that. She’s just here to do her job, and there will be no nonsense, there are boundaries, there must be consent.

“Twice, Gerard,” she chides from under her austere, German haircut, opting for Dieter’s character name, not bothering to use his real one. “No more. It is once, twice, break. Noses to the right, no tongue.”

“How about teeth?” He is trying so so hard to keep the twinkle out of his eye and the IC glares him down. He returns a self-defacing grin, meant to charm, to be submissive. “I don’t think he would invade her mouth, but I don’t think he wants to let her go, either. I mean, look at her.”

Now it’s your turn to glare.

“Justine,” she barks at you, similarly foregoing your actual name, and you jump. “You consent to this?”

“Suuuuuuure.”

“Fine. We add that in. Please add it to the notes.” She doesn’t even look over at her assistant, just places the order and moves in to point to areas on your body. “Hands can go here, here, here, and here. That is your canvas. Do not paint outside the lines. Now kiss.”

It’s hard enough to naturally execute a staged kiss with a stern woman ordering you into it. Let alone in a rehearsal room full of PAs and pop lights. Let alone with Dieter fucking Bravo and all the baggage that entails, both bitter and sweet.

But still. You’ve shared staged intimacy with him before. And muscle memory kicks in. His huge hands cupping your jaw should make your shoulders want to jump in reflexive defense. Instead, your body remembers–this posture, this gesture, this warm breath on your face, these eyes yearning after your lips–and instantly melts into its safety. 

You almost forgot how his mustache tickles. 

You almost forgot how he grips, his fingers fighting against his desperation, trying so hard not to bruise.

But the gentle pull of his teeth at your bottom lip, that’s new. 

For him. That was always your move.

He’s gone back to the sandalwood shampoo. That’s nice. You almost forget where you are--

“Ach. No. Clumsy. Remember your light. Your nose gets in the way, Gerard. Try again.”

You hope the step back from your scene partner isn’t too fast. 

Or too slow.

________

“I got a little over-zealous.” Dieter shuffled through the french doors of a large-ish bedroom, the walls covered in a riot of figures, studies in the shape of Dali’s slender women, half finished, heads like bouquets, door knobs, something slightly penile– “Was gonna repaint it, but thought you might wanna pick your own color. Home it up however you want.” The ice clinked in his whiskey glass as he spun toward the floor-to-ceiling blinds to push them open, revealing a nice little balcony looking up over Dixie Valley toward the scrubby hills. He tilted his head back for a second to let his sunglasses shield him from the sun that poured through, an annoyed hiss sucking through his teeth betraying a possible hangover. “Got a new mattress coming. You don’t wanna sleep on the one that was here.”

A shameless grin as he winked a red eye over his Ray Bans at you.

Morgan was right. His house was large enough. No mansion, for sure, but a sizeable place for two people; it’s far too big for one. Must have picked it for the tax write-off. You’d certainly have enough privacy.

His bedroom was on another floor–four in all, built into the hillside–and two different living room lounge areas on separate floors. You could go days without seeing each other without much effort.

“Are you sure you want me to paint over them?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I haven’t been back in here since the acid trip that birthed these. Just like, 36 hours of fucking around and a shit ton of macaroni balls.”

He painted all of this, in all this detail, in a day? And what the hell is a macaroni ball?

“Well, then, if you really don’t mind, I guess I might get someone in here this week to get it done. I’d like to get out of my condo lease before another month comes due…”

He choked slightly on a sip of whiskey and cut the air with a splayed hand.“Wait. You’re giving up your lease?”

“Well…yeah. It doesn’t make sense to pay for something I’m not living in. I mean–”

“Don’t do that. I got it.”

You blinked. “What do you mean, ‘you’ve got it’?”

“I can cover your rent. You shouldn’t…give up your own place.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence. “I…thought I was going to live here, satisfy the requirements, keep up appearances–”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” the ice clinked again as he swung his free hand forward to find your shoulder, not sure if it was to steady himself or you. “You’re welcome to make it your home. Really. Go fucking bonkers. I just thought you’d want to keep a space that was yours. To retreat to.”

Twisting to look out through the bedroom doors into the wide open second floor living room lounge and then back again, you cocked an eyebrow. “I think I have more room here, D.”

“I mean, a space that doesn’t have,” he gestured sloppily around his head and then out toward the walls, “my aura saturating it. Like, a space that doesn’t have my ass smeared all over it.”

He didn’t laugh with you, but allowed the time to let yours pass. “I don’t mind that as long as you don’t mind me rubbing my…aura ass or…ass aura all over your house.”

That, though, yanked a half-smile out of him. “Not at all. Your ass aura is a welcome addition.”

“Good.” Dieter was a big weirdo, but his heart was in the right place. This was going to be more pleasant than you’d anticipated. A warm little breeze ruffled the curtains as you whispered a humble thanks.

“Cool. Great. Hey, mmm–” downing his whiskey and walking out of the room to the tv area of the lounge, “you wanna smoke and watch some porn?”

Ah yes. That aforementioned “aura.”

“Um, no? But…I wouldn’t mind getting high and watching Xanadu….”

That won you an eager, unchecked grin.

“Amazing.”

_________________

It started off one night by asking him to help you navigate the complicated system of streaming services and on-demand channels he had set up through an expensive all-in-one portal. He found the movie you were jonesing for and you ended up on the lounge couch with his feet in your lap while you both ugly wept over the ending of Wit.

After that, the next few weeks was an almost every-other-nightly ritual of him wandering down to the lounge, asking sheepishly if he could join you, and then a combo of one of you sprawled on the couch, the other on the floor or being lap support for feet, one of you stoned (usually him), stuffing your face with popcorn, late nights chewing over cinema history (or Dieter’s Hollywood conquest history) and player’s choice for passing out there or in your own beds.

Dieter ended up being the roommate you always wanted, one that made you realize how quiet and lonely your single-bedroom apartment had really been. Sure, he stumbled into your area more often than he’d promised, but he was always welcome. Sure, he left a wake of spilled wine and soggy popcorn and kitkat wrappers and greasy pizza boxes on the coffee table, but he also was on good terms with his cleaning lady who was able to somehow leave the place immaculate every morning, even if he was sprawled out snoring atop the mess. In and out before you woke, you had a suspicion that she was some kind of magical house brownie with eternal patience and goodwill. Every evening you shuffled off to your room leaving Dieter in a pile of bathrobe and paraphernalia, you wondered if you should drop her an offering of cookies and milk. Or, like, a crisp $100 bill.

He spent a weekend here or there off somewhere for a photo shoot or pickups for the movie he shot right before Fall of Timon that was set to come out during awards season…Hunger…something? Strike? Yes. Hunger Strike. And you, you navigated your way through a few meetings with an immigration agent and set about filling out some preliminary paperwork. Morgan helped, mostly by pulling some industry strings to pull your life sentence with Dieter down from the requisite three years.

A week to the day before the wedding, you realized how unreal it all seemed. Shouldn’t you be stressed? Planning? What were you forgetting? Everything was being taken off your plate by a high-profile wedding planner you never actually saw, so it was actually a routine day when Uri Malani’s assistant showed up at the house with a rack of a half dozen dresses out of which to choose from the designer’s upcoming line.

Weddings for actors are never the stressful affairs that they are for many people. Actors spend much of their professional lives in the spotlight, they have a plethora of opening nights on stage or wardrobed awards nights or show up twenty feet high on a big silver screen. A wedding is just another day on stage. Nothing has to be perfect because they’ve learned that anything can be improvised and still be amazing.

So the tailor session for your wedding dress was much like an at-home costume fitting; this was, after all, quite literally, just one more role to play. Except that the dress was worth $8000 and sponsored by Malani’s design house. It wouldn’t be yours to keep, but then, what would you do with a dress you’d never wear again….

….a dress that was really only a costume…for a fake-ish wedding….that you agreed to in order to further your career...not like it was for love or anything...not like it was...

“Hey. You okay?”

Dieter had come home while you were stood on top of a tailor’s box in the downstairs living room, a beautiful white silk creation cascading over your shoulders and piling in gleaming yardage around your feet. He’d taken up a seat on the far end of the room, knocked over something decorative on an end table when he propped up his feet to better support his sketch pad, using you as his personal model. “Like a fucking Venus in her seashell,” he mumbled, assessing all the white fabric.

The tailor had run out to his car to find a packet of buttons for this particular dress, leaving you to stare at yourself in the traveling full-length mirror.

Pretty. Simple. Innocent maybe. The perfect little sweetheart to tame the Hollywood beast. The reflection had replaced you with a …bride. And some deep crypt in your heart opened up. And some errant thought you once thought was dead came ambling out, attacking when you least expected it. 

There in the mirror was a bride who was you and you were a bride and that bride was sobbing and beyond it should have been a Dieter kicked back in an armchair but instead there was a sketch pad laying ruffled and bent on the floor where it was dropped and your friend striding across the room wide-eyed and fingers twitching and looking about as scared as you felt–

“Hey. Hey Babycakes. Hey. What the fuck is happening here.” Suddenly he was before you, his hands wandering through the air around your elbows, stuck in two gears at once, oscillating between wanting to clutch and yet keeping a forced, respectful bubble; a man that wasn’t practiced in the art of comfort and knew it.

“I just,” you put up your hands, trying to calm him in return, a signal that he need not be so worried. “I just…I don’t know…sorry. This is all just happening so fast and it shouldn’t be a big deal but…”

Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that until exactly that moment.

“I just realized that I won’t just ever have a wedding. The wedding, you know? That…my husband–my future husband–will never just be my husband. He’ll never just be the most special person in my life…like, he’ll always be my second husband as far as everyone’s concerned. And that wedding’s gonna have to either just be simple and take a back seat to this one or it’s going to have to be bigger and better in every way and I won’t be able to enjoy it…maybe…I don’t know….”

“Hey.” 

You didn’t even realize you were shaking until his hand folded around yours to find it a still, warm place to be. And when you looked up to the mirror again, there was a bride, puffy-faced, standing aloft on her short pedestal in an artsy Sherman Oaks living room above her slovenly groom in a stretched-out t-shirt whose thumb was worrying her knuckles and who was gazing up at her in a heartfelt study of concern and fear.

“Cakes. We don’t have to do this.”

His voice had the same effect as turning the heat down on a simmering pot and you felt your heart returning to manageable speed as you squeezed his fingers in your own.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It just hit me hard and fast. I’ll get over it. I mean, it’s just a dream, right? There’s no saying I’ll even marry anyone else. I’m so picky and focused on my career so…” But when you met his eyes, you saw that his pot was still threatening to simmer over. “Really. It’s okay, D. Just promise me we’ll have fun, okay?”

Letting go of the breath he’d been holding, his face settled into a slovenly, relaxed smile, relieved to have an assignment. “Yeah. I can promise that.” His eyes shot wide. “Oh shit. Vows. We have to do that shit don’t we.”

You laughed, lifted his hand to kiss his thumb as the tailor came back into the room. “Yeah, we do. Just don’t promise anything you can’t deliver, Bravo.”

“You wouldn’t believe what I can deliver, missus.”

________________

Nobody could ever say Dieter Bravo wasn’t an amazing actor.

“Listen. I may have got my ass kicked off a few sets when I was just starting out, but I can say that I’ve never broken a contract. I sign my name onto something? I commit.”

A perfectly sunny day. A beautiful ocean-view trellis. A veil made of silk orchids spilling over your hair. Your parents watching from the front row, flown in specially for the day. 

Dieter didn’t believe in holding hands during the vows. But apparently he did believe in hugging you tightly against him and very openly weeping. “I can’t believe you said yes to me. Babe. You’re just…you’re the perfect wife for me. You came into my life and it’s been fun, you know? I promise you, we’re gonna have fun.”

It was sweet, really. You knew he wasn’t only putting on a good show, living up to the weirdness that people expected from his eccentric, chaotic persona, but it was also evident that he was actually allowing himself to feel this, to give into the fantasy of being a husband for someone he cared about. 

And, of course, you knew he was doing this for you. Living these vows in real time. Because the harder you giggled against him in front of the ocean and everyone you loved, overcome by the ridiculousness of it all, the harder he sobbed, his voice all but cutting out completely, just an absolute mess.

He stumbled forward a little, stepping on your toes, but it hardly mattered. To match his white groomswear–a beautiful white jacket and vest over black trousers–he’d opted for white crocs. That way, he said, he wouldn’t hurt you when he fumbled the first dance. And you were actually touched that he’d festooned them with the jibbitz you’d bought him that day at the Farmer’s Market. It made you grin like an idiot on your march down the aisle. And if you ever got nervous enough to drop your gaze, there they were, a reminder that this was all just too silly, that you were both in on your own private joke.

As much as he’d assured you that you didn’t have to adopt this crazy scheme, it surprised you that Dieter actually took it as seriously as he did. Not the fake marriage thing, but the whole…formal wedding part. You knew him well enough. This was not his style. If Bravo was going to seriously marry anyone it would probably include nudity and psychotropics. 

But at least he was making sure you were both having a good time at everyone else’s expense. As long as he wasn’t high. That’s all you asked of him on the day. Just for him to be coherent enough so you wouldn’t be left alone in all of this. And you were relatively sure he was going to keep his word on that.

“You’re so talented smart and and pretty and I’m fucking lucky I met you. You like all the same pizza toppings I do and I’m so happy you’re the last person I see before I fall asleep. I know what I’ve got. I’m not giving this up. I’m gonna take care of you,” he pulled his expression together into a mask of fearful determination. “And I’m gonna be who you need me to be.”

Damn, he was Sell. Ing. It.

Your eyebrows shot up as he went in for an early kiss, smashing his lips into yours, his fingers digging into your back, the combination of his vows’ forceful sincerity and the desperate eagerness of the kiss sending you both stumbling.

After that, it was a balancing act between your mouth and your heart, one of them delivering the vows you’d prepared–the promises to treat him gently and be a good partner, some quote by Emily Dickinson about the wildness of the sea and the beating of your heart–while the other worked to quiet all the fire alarms that his words had set off in you.

It was just a show. Just another show, that’s all. You would let the emotions guide your actions in a truthful way, but in the end, the curtain always comes down and you get to take your bows and dump your flowers in your dressing room and then go out and get a drink.

“And I promise you, Dieter Bravo, that you will enjoy every damn moment of having me around.”

And he laughed through his watery eyes and you kissed him back, giving his bottom lip a good-natured nip as you let him go, the wedding guests exploding in applause as the officiant made the final declaration and nobody but you heard Dieter when he whispered, “Yes ma’am.”

Now that? That was a five-star performance.

________________

Most of the reception was spent apart from one another. You both quickly realized that whenever you stood in one place together, silver and glass rang out, demanding satisfaction and wouldn’t stop its incessant din until your lips met. You planned for one or two kisses during the ceremony, probably one after the dreaded first dance, but you’d both forgotten about the abhorrent clinking tradition. And it wouldn’t do to look like you were avoiding it.

Dieter wasn’t the best kisser–kissing probably not being his focus when he was intimate with people–but he was warm and gentle in a way you hadn’t expected, his lips were big and soft and his nose got in the way. It got easier and more natural every time, but it was still a struggle to make sure it looked as if every one was your thousandth, and not your third.

By the time he was swaying against you, his lips finding your temple during the first dance, he had nailed the role. “How are you holding up, missus?”

“It’s going fine. My parents are happy.  They liked your last film and I told them about how nice you were to me during Timon. I mean, they also think you’re a bit of a clown with a flat ass, but they’ll come around.”

“Bold of them to assume. The jacket covers my ass. Mostly.”

“YouTube. The Venice Beach incident. The reason I’m here, remember?”

“Well, shit.” His cheek pressed into your forehead, seeking support.

And you lent it, winding your arms further around him, urging him to lean in. A subtle shift in his sway, a slowing, a softening as you rubbed comfort into his back. “How are you doing?”

“Fucking exhausted.”

“Those crocs letting you down?”

“I meant emotionally. This is a lot of work. Even a union day’s only ten hours long.”

“Just think how well you’ll sleep tonight.”

“Shit. That reminds me,” he sighed, exasperated. “Planner booked us the suite here. The bed’s a California king, but I’ll take the couch if you want.”

“Should be fine. Do you snore in your sleep?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“Do you fart in your sleep?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

And, like thousands of newlyweds before you, you chuckled softly into each others’ shoulders, your wedding guests most likely imagining a much different conversation.

The last verse of the first dance began–a cover of an old love tune neither of you had chosen but everyone had immediately started sighing over–and you let words go, simply fueling each other through the last big duet of the performance.

Your head fell naturally to his shoulder, and his chin held you there as you both just rode out the time.

The sun was setting. The fairy lights taking over.

His shoulder….ample, supportive.

Sandalwood….

And the last verse of the first dance ended–a long final note that both of you allowed to resonate between you as everyone applauded in adoration–and you stepped back to find each other’s eyes, then, according to the script, each other’s lips…

…but then neither of you let go.

In fact, both of you held on just a little harder.

There was a flash, a moment where the spell was working on you, that maybe you wanted it to be real. A flicker of heat and the need to be consumed by him. As your body received the kiss that was meant to satisfy expectations but was fulfilling other surprising deficiencies, its chemicals fired to match the action, and as his fingers twisted the silk of your dress, they wrung a tiny whine from you–

–signaling an end to the effect as he broke away.

Or so you thought.

But then…his eyes…his pupils blown wide, his dark eyes darker with–

“Dieter, are you–”

“Hey, do you wanna have–”

“--are you…high?”

You could almost feel the ramp of his heart as you caught him in the headlights. Those wide pupils darting back and forth between your own. A moment gone on too long that you took for guilt over misbehavior but would later recognize as fear of rejection.

Until he deployed his defense mechanism and let the dumbest, sloppiest smile slide across his face to serve as both an admission and an apology. And you growled through a gritted smile.

“Really, dude? At our staged wedding? My family’s here!”

He laughed and gave you a squeeze, nearly lifting you off the ground. “Told you. Fun. D’you wanna hit?”

“No, you fucking dork. Just…don’t let my parents find out. They’re really weird about that stuff and you already have a track record.”

It was half chiding and half resigned amusement. The man was a disaster and everyone loved him in spite of it, you were no exception. He was zero good judgment and a fine example of a charming but hapless mess. But you knew he was good for his word, knew he wouldn’t embarrass you. And that was–you reminded yourself lovingly towards him–about the best you could expect out of Dieter Bravo.

________

“Roll. Action.”

It’s the mark of a good director, scheduling an intimacy shoot on the first day, especially if you need your actors to have a newness, an electricity, that little spark of desperation and awkwardness that makes the chemistry bubble.

But that certainty changes when the actors have history.

It’s the mark of a genius director to take two actors with history and throw them opposite each other when the characters themselves are fighting against their own past.

“I still love you, Justine.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah?” You hit your mark, tilt your chin at him in challenge. “Prove it.”

In his everyday persona, Dieter is an agent of chaos and an absolute menace. But to his credit, he takes his job seriously, a consummate professional. His hands go here, here, and here, and they avoid there, there, and there, just as the intimacy coordinator instructed. He kisses once, twice. No more.

He’s added a few subtle ingredients–a press of foreheads, a shared breath, a thumb across your cheekbone. And a hum of satisfaction.

But he forgot the nibble. It’s not necessary, and he originally added it just to dig at you. 

And of course he knew that something deep in you would notice--and secretly resent--the omission.

The little shit.

The IC  isn’t on set for filming.

Fuck it.

You put your hands there. You kiss him a third time. You give him a little nip.

And he smiles into the kiss. And does not let go.

A whistle comes from the DP.  “Good take. Let’s do another for safety.”

Annie’s voice floats in contentedly from the darkness in the direction of the run monitor. “Let’s do a few. Dieter, don’t hold back. He needs to show her how he really feels. This is his one chance to make her love him again.”

There’s no will in you to pull away from him so fast, this time content to stay in your light while the shift is reset. But you manage to give him a look, a half-hearted reprimand–

Dieter….

He counters with a cocked eyebrow.

Hey. Fun, remember?

And Dieter, still holding on, never having looked away, calls back to the director, “Can do.” 

______

______

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SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

[goldenpinof]

Idk if it’s too much to ask, but can you elaborate by any chance on how dd was alienating? I’ve never really watched it, and I breezed through a few to try to understand, but I still don’t get it 😞😞 It kinda just seemed like a longer version of his older videos with a bigger production?? Or am I wrong??? If you, or anyone else, could help me that’d be great! If not it’s okay, hope you’re having a lovely day!

it's not too much to ask, don't worry! it's gonna be too much to read for you, though, and i'm sorry for that :)

original anon, please, come back! i would also like to know your and others' thoughts on what felt wrong with dd.

i wasn't alienated, so i can only point own differences and traits (??) that weren't balanced out right away by either Phil or Dan himself. in dd videos Dan is ruder than usual and it feels less like banter. like, he is purposefully rude, loud, mean, annoyed, and offensive in a way. and if usually, you understand that it's not real because Dan either laughs or his "collaborator" laughs genuinely or gets on board and plays along – here it wasn't like that? or it wasn't like that always. during dd he was saying stupid and harmless things but the delivery was like he was punching someone with his words. gladly, Dan is a bad actor, so it was just awkward most of the time (at least to me), and that indicated that he was just fucking around and all of these is his weird concept of satire. there was a "i don't really wanna be here" vibe sometimes. some topics of the videos were purposefully boring and their point was to show that youtube is full of recycled content and there is so little originality on the platform? (allegedly! this is one of my understandings). he definitely tried to explain the whole big concept of dd somewhere, i just don't remember where (probably in a liveshow), and video descriptions can be very telling as well. also, he was using his fandom A LOT. we were giving him content, 45% of dd is phandom-based videos. it can weird people out, i can understand that. i'm not a huge fan of all these twitter screenshots and Dan reading them out loud. but as a part of a bigger concept i can let it slide.

anyway, for me it felt a bit disingenuous. like he would rather do anything else or nothing at all than dystopia daily. but his "annoyed at everyone and everything" dd persona fit into that. so i'm not mad it exists. it's a fucking concept and a half. and it's so funny to look at it and not take it seriously. there were good, cute and genuinely funny moments. just, the whole thing still feels like it was a challenge to youtube. and like he wanted to bait people. i don't know, i haven't rewatched any of the videos. my thoughts are based on memories.

i think in the beginning Dan was like: am i doing what i want to do (and there's no budget around); am i doing what youtube algorithm wants from me?; or am i doing what the audience wants? and he tried to create a piece of content that fit all three categories, and create it very fast. and that's why dd was such a roller coaster.

i'd like to hear the original anon :)