#that was around the time i spontaneously combusted

[alisonsfics]

wrong name

pairing: tyler owens x best friend!reader

summary: you were doing a great job suppressing your feelings for your best friend until you hooked up with a guy and called out tyler’s name in bed. but it’s fine, tyler would never find out, right? right?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, car sex, fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, minors DNI (18+ only)

It had been one week since the most mortifying moment of your life.

You’d gone on a first date with a guy named Finn because that’s what you do when you’re trying to get over your crush on your best friend. You hope that maybe you’ll meet a guy that you’ll fall harder for and stop crushing on the guy who would never see you like that.

So, you went back to his place after dinner, and the sex was mediocre at best.

At first, Tyler only popped into your head for second. You imagined how much better it would feel if it was his hands running over your body. Then, you had more intrusive thoughts. Like the thought of Tyler bending you over and fucking you.

It’s only because you were desperate. There was nothing worse than trying to pretend you were having a good time when you were just bored out of your mind.

So, you suggested to Finn that he should blindfold you.

From there, your imagination really soared, and you allowed yourself to believe you were with Tyler.

It was a fun little secret, just for you.

Until you both came, and you called out Tyler’s name and not his.

You were praying you’d spontaneously combust because you couldn’t face him after that. You quickly scrambled back into your clothes and went home.

You were doing okay at pretending it never happened. When you were lying in bed at night, the memory liked to sneak up on you and mortify you all over again.

So, you were boycotting dates for the moment because you couldn’t risk doing it again.

You had a boring night of wine and a movie planned for yourself when Tyler called you. “Hey, Tyler? What’s up?” You asked him, cheerily.

“You got any plans tonight? I was thinking about going out to a bar.” He suggested.

Even over the phone, his voice ran right through you. Goosebumps ran down your arms as you tried to hide your excitement. “That sounds great. Pick me up at 8?” You suggested.

“Sounds perfect, see you soon.” He replied.

You hung up the phone and flopped backwards onto your bed. The heat rushed to your cheeks. You had to fight the urge to giggle and kick your feet.

You’d been friends with Tyler for years, which didn’t mean you stopped getting butterflies around him. You just got better at hiding it.

You both had been through a lot together, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it by letting he find out you were harboring feelings for him.

So, you picked out a cute black dress to wear. One that Tyler’s eyes would linger over, but he’d never admit it. Just like every time the two of you went out to a bar.

You’d just finished getting ready whenTyler’s red truck pulled up outside your apartment. You quickly ran down the stairs to greet him.

“There she is,” he said, his eyes running down your body as he got out of the truck. That look of awe was enough to make you feel dizzy.

You could feel the butterflies start to swarm as he walked closer to you. “You look gorgeous as always.” He said, taking your hand and spinning you in a circle.

You thanked him as he pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Your chariot awaits.” He joked, opening the passenger door for you.

The drive there went by in a flash. You and Tyler knew each other like the back of your hands, so you could easily spend hours talking about nothing and everything.

“So, any particular reason you wanted to go out tonight?” You asked, looking over at Tyler as you both took a seat at the bar. You knew Tyler’s favorite solution for problems at work was going out drinking with you. No one could calm Tyler down the way you could.

“Can’t it just be because I wanted to hang out with my best friend?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. You rolled your eyes at him, swatting his arm. “While I am a delight, I know that’s not it.” You encouraged him, letting your hand linger on his forearm.

His eyes darted down. The way your small hand was gripping onto his muscular arm was enough to distract him. You quickly pulled your hand away, feeling slightly embarrassed after seeing his reaction.

“Just tornado stuff. We had this big opportunity to get a bunch of data, but some of the equipment malfunctioned. We lost almost everything.” He explained. He was eager to move the conversation past how he had almost malfunctioned because you grabbed his arm.

You gave him a small sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That’s frustrating. You’ll figure it out. I mean, you’re the tornado wrangler after all.” You said, cheesily trying to cheer him up. Tyler chuckled and looked down at his hands.

Ever since Tyler had been branded the “Tornado Wrangler,” you loved to tease him about it.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I hate when you call me that.” He groaned, smiling at you. You cheekily shrugged your shoulders.

“I gotta go to the bathroom real quick. Can you watch my drink?” You asked him. Tyler quickly nodded, sliding your drink over in front of him. You rushed towards the bathroom, where you assumed there’d be a line.

“Two shots of tequila please,” Tyler heard a man come up to the bar and order beside him.

He didn’t pay a lot of attention to it, until he saw the man down both shots back to back, out of the corner of his eye. “Rough day?” Tyler joked, looking over at the man.

“Rough week,” the man corrected him, with a grim expression. Tyler looked at the man’s face, not being able to shake the feeling that he knew him from somewhere.

“Wait, do we know each other? You look familiar.” Tyler said, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought. The man gave him an awkward smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, man.” He said, knowing he’d never seen Tyler before.

That’s when he saw Tyler’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh, wait. You’re Finn, right?” He asked him.

Finn’s expression only became more anxious and worried. “Yeah, umm. I am, but how do you know my name? I don’t think we’ve ever met.” He asked.

Tyler quickly shook his head, trying to assure the man who was growing more nervous. “No, we haven’t met. You went on a date with my friend Y/N last weekend. She showed me your picture before you guys had your date.” Tyler said.

Finn nodded in recognition. All the memories of that night came rushing back to him. “Oh, yeah. That explains it.” Finn said, sheepishly. It was clear to Finn that this man he was speaking to didn’t know anything about how that date went.

“Sorry, don’t want to be rude. I’m Tyler, by the way.” Tyler said, quickly shaking Finn’s hand. Finn stared blankly back at him. “Tyler?” He asked, feeling his blood run cold. Tyler nodded, giving Finn a friendly smile.

Meanwhile, you were on your way back to the bar.

“Hey, Tyler. I’m back.” You said, reaching to grab your drink back from Tyler. Your gaze drifted past Tyler to the man that was standing beside him.

“Hey, Y/N. Good to see you.” Finn said, with a fake smile. You felt yourself freeze. You wanted to run away, but you couldn’t convince your feet to move.

“Oh—uh, Finn. Yeah, good to see you.” You nervously lied. Your eyes darted between Tyler and Finn. You were praying Finn hadn’t found out Tyler’s name. You were also praying he hadn’t told Tyler what happened.

“I guess you haven’t told your friend, Tyler, here that our date was kind of a bust.” He said, coldly.

You wrapped your hand around Tyler’s bicep, trying to tug him towards you. You wanted Tyler to get the hint that you really wanted to leave.

Tyler turned to face you. He saw the pure panic in your eyes. “You okay?” He asked you, quietly.

You tried to form the word “no,” but no sound would come out of your mouth. All you could imagine was Finn telling Tyler what happened. You could practically see the way that Tyler’s face would change.

“I think the guy deserves to know.” Finn said, noticing the way you were tensed up. You weren’t hard to read in this moment, but Finn had been humiliated when you said the wrong name. So, he wanted revenge.

“That’s none of his business.” You said firmly. You refused to look Tyler in the eye. You were worried that if you did, he’d somehow see into your soul and know what happened.

“Let’s go.” Tyler said, standing up and wrapping his hand tightly in yours. Tyler knew how uncomfortable Finn was making you and wanted to get you out of there as quick as possible.

Tyler turned to leave, pulling you with him when Finn yelled after you both.

“We hooked up, but she called out your name, not mine.” Finn said.

You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your stomach sank. You felt like the floor was going to open it up and pull you under.

You tugged your hand away and ran out of the bar and into the parking lot. Tyler was trying to process what he’d just heard.

He turned around to face Finn, who had a grin on his face. “The lady told you to shut up.” Tyler practically growled, shoving Finn against the bar.

Tyler turned on his heel to follow you towards the car.

When he got outside, he saw you standing by the passenger side of the truck. Your arms were crossed, and your eyes were focused on the ground.

“Sweetheart—” Tyler started to say before you cut him off.

“I want to go home.” You snapped. Your tone came out harsher than you meant to.

Tyler slowly nodded. He didn’t want to push you to talk about something you didn’t want to talk about. You both got into the car in complete silence.

Tyler hesitated before putting the keys in the ignition. He glanced over at you. He could see your eyes starting to water as you still refused to look at him.

He cautiously reached over to let his fingers interlace with yours. “Will you please look at me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not scaring me away. I promise.” He said, softly.

You hesitantly looked over at him. He gave you a soft smile, trying to calm you down. “Finn was a douchebag for telling me, but I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you. You softly squeezed his hand.

He used his other hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “So…you were calling out my name, huh?” Tyler asked you, with a cocky smirk.

Your eyes went wide. You tugged your hand away from his and covered your face with your hands. “Tyler,” you complained, dragging out his name.

He chuckled to himself. “I wasn’t trying to tease you.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender.

You peeked at him through your fingers. “That’s exactly what you’re doing, Owens.” You said, groaning to yourself.

He shook his head. Then, you felt him grab both your hands. His rough calloused skin scratching against your soft hands. He moved your hands away, looking you in the eye.

“I was just offering to make your little fantasies a reality.” He said in a low voice.

You leaped across the car, grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him. His hand flew to the back of your neck as he kissed you back.

You could taste the liquor on his lips. The kiss was sloppy and hungry. You’d both wanted this for too long to be patient. His fingers weaved through your hair, holding on tightly.

His other hand grabbed your waist. His fingers caressed the silky material of your dress. His mind could only think about how much softer your skin would be under his touch.

You seemingly read his mind. “Go ahead,” you mumbled against his lips. You could feel his lips curve up into a smirk. He slipped his fingers under your short dress, caressing your upper thigh.

He noticed the goosebumps that were covering your legs. It only encouraged him more. His hand slowly moved higher up your thigh.

You whimpered against the kiss. You felt the familiar aching between your legs. You needed his touch like you needed air. “So needy for me, baby,” he said, cockily.

The pet name sent a shiver rolling down your back. You bucked your hips up against nothing. “Please,” you begged him.

He rubbed his thumb across your clothed heat. A small wet patch had formed in your panties. Another whine came out of you.

He quickly pushed your panties to the side and plunged a finger into your folds. You gasped, pulling out of the kiss. Your eyelids softly fluttered closed.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumbled softly. Tyler peppered kisses to your shoulder as you leaned your head back. Your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head. He curled his finger inside of you, making you buck your hips against his hand.

“You want another, sweetheart? Can you handle that?” Tyler asked you. You furiously nodded your head. He could feel his jeans becoming strained as he watched you writhe under his touch.

He added another finger, stretching you out. Your mouth hung open as you adjusted. Your wetness only allowed Tyler to move his fingers quicker. He quickly moved them in and out, watching as your breath quickened.

Your stomach started to tighten. You reached for anything to sink your nails into. Your hand landed on Tyler’s bicep.

He pressed his thumb into your clit. “Tyler,” his name fell effortlessly from his lips. He quickened his pace. Every breath and moan from you made him go faster.

“Cum for me, baby,” he praised you.

He started rubbing circles around your clit. You whined, helplessly grinding your hips down against his hand. You swore you were seeing stars. “Oh fuck, Tyler, I’m gonna—” you swore, biting down your lip.

“Go ahead. Cum on my fingers.” He instructed. Your orgasm hit you. You clenched around his fingers, riding the high. “Tyler, so good,” you mumbled. Your legs were shaking, and you threw your head back against the headrest. He continued pumping his fingers into you.

“That’s it. There you go.” He softly praised you. Tyler’s fingers slowed down, helping you down from your peak. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your lips softly.

He wiped his soaked fingers on his jeans. You softly nipped at his bottom lip. His smirk grew again. “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” He asked you.

Instead of answering him, you climbed across the console into his lap. Tyler pulled out of the kiss to watch you, in shock. His eyes were wide at the sight in front of him.

You were straddling his lap. Your skirt was hiked up to your hips while your cum was running down your thigh. Your makeup was smudged. Your lips were swollen. And you looked tired out from your orgasm.

“Hold on, just a second, baby,” he said, quickly sliding his seat all the way back and leaning the chair as far back as it would go.

As soon as you both had more room, you were back all over each other. Tyler’s hands were possessively holding on your hips. You unbuttoned Tyler’s shirt as you kissed him. Feeling the last button come undone, you raked your nails over his bare chest. Tyler groaned into the kiss. Your touch was magic on him.

“Need you,” he mumbled against your lips. You tugged his shirt off his shoulders and threw it in the back seat.

Tyler leaned back as you reached for the hem of your dress. He watched with a cocky smile as you pulled the dress over your head. He’d just been fingers deep in you, but the sight of you in your bra and panties was enough to make him crazy.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, darling,” he practically moaned. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down to kiss him again. Your hands struggled to undo his belt while he unclasped your bra.

Having Tyler’s hands on you had your skin burning. You felt like your skin was on fire, in the best way. You could sense his desperation. His hands explored your body, not wanting to leave any part untouched.

His hands covered you, helping you undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He quickly tugged his jeans down to his knees.

You pulled out of the kiss to take a breath. Tyler buried his face in between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and a trail of saliva. He leaned forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your eyes rolled back, grasping onto Tyler’s arms. “Need you, Tyler,” you mumbled.

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” He said, tugging down his boxers. His cock spring out, slapping against his stomach. He watched as you practically drooled over him. He brought you back into the moment as he pulled off your panties.

“You want to do this right here? Or you wanna move into the backseat?” He asked you, smirking at your eager expression.

“Right here,” you said. The words came out rushed as you captured his lips in a kiss. He smirked against your lips. “Hang on, sweetheart. If you’re gonna ride me, you’re gonna need this.” He said, grabbing his cowboy hat from the backseat and plopping it on your head. A bashful smile appeared on your face.

You shifted your weight, holding onto Tyler’s shoulders. “Go ahead, cowgirl.” He encouraged you with a wicked smile.

You slowly sunk yourself down onto his length. A low groan escaped Tyler’s lips at the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Fuck, darling,” he moaned, grabbing at your hips. He helped lift you up and let you plunge back down on his cock.

“Oh, Ty— so good,” you mumbled, rolling your hips back into his.

Tyler took a mental picture of you riding him while wearing his hat. He wanted to remember it forever.

With his assistance, you sped up the pace. You were ramming your hips down against his. With each thrust, you could feel Tyler reaching deeper inside you.

“This what you were thinking about with that other guy? Thinking about wrapping your sweet pussy around my cock. You fit perfect. It’s like you were made for me.” Tyler praised you. His comments went straight to your core. Your legs started to shake.

His name fell from your lips. He bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway. “Need to…f-f-faster,” you stuttered, feeling your muscles begin to tighten.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help ya,” he assured you, grabbing a tight hold on your hips. He slammed you down on his cock.

You could feel him brush up against your g-spot. You clenched your eyes shut, a whimper escaping your lips. “That the spot, sweetheart? Don’t worry. I’ll give it the attention it needs.” He said, flipping your body over so he was on top.

“You did so good, honey. But just let me do the work. You focus on cumming for me.” He instructed you.

He braced his leg against the console and started pounding into you. Your legs began to shake. You wrapped your hands around the headrest, your knuckles turning white.

“I’m almost—” you said, breathlessly. The noises bouncing off the truck walls were almost pornographic. You could hear every thrust. From Tyler’s low groans every time you squeezed around his cock to the sound his cock made as it slipped through your wetness.

His hand flew down to your clit, rubbing small tight circles. “Can’t last much longer, darling,” Tyler moaned. You could tell from his erratic thrusts that he was telling the truth. You vision was starting to go white as the muscles in your abdomen contracted.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna— oh, fuck, Tyler.” You called out as you came around him. Your walls clenched down around his cock, pushing him over the edge. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, bucking his hips into yours and he came inside you.

He collapsed against you, slowing his pace and bringing you both down from your highs. His sweaty body pressed against yours.

“So, how’s that compare to what you were imagining?” Tyler asked you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You gasped for breath. “S-so much better,” you mumbled, breathlessly.

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Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[starbuck]

i don’t understand people who get sick pleasure from recounting tragedies, i really don’t

[volivolition]

reading Kim's Disco Inferno and i absolutely needed to read this fic earlier than im reading it right now. this is so fucking interesting.

[maxxzophone]

Wild totally random question but how do u feel about the daycare attendant

Oh I kind of like them just a little bit eh

[jimothy-hopkins]

Absolutely fucking nobody:

Edward in free roam:

[sophieswundergarten]

Guys. Why did we spend all that time trying to decide who are the book/show exclusive character's counterparts?

I want to see a staff meeting between Garrison, McCracken, Jeffers, Crawlings, and Show Curtain

[dapper-nahrwhale]

was looking thru my posted ninjago fics and have come to a very obvious conclusion. All of my fics are about ronin, like all of them, every single one is so ronin centric. He lives in my brain I cant stop him I've tried!!! Aaa

[thatlesbiancrow]

havin a bit of a ~paranoia moment~

so i'm gonna post some cat pics to cope

[toastsnaffler]

FIRST CONTACT HAS BEEN MADE WITH OUR NEIGHBOURS !! mission accomplished B-)

[steddie-as-they-come]

Eddie's hanging out in Family Video during Steve and Robin's shift, just being a general nuisance, when it begins.

The other two are talking in low voices in the back corner, discussing something Eddie can't hear. Normally he'd get up and go over there, insert himself into the conversation, command their attention, but he's too busy judgmentally rifling through Family Video's paltry horror movie supply to care that much.

He sneaks a glance over, and then he sees it.

Steve presses a kiss to Robin's forehead.

Eddie has to drop the tape he's holding before he does something stupid like break it out of jealousy.

And he knows, okay, he's heard it no less than eight million times, they're platonic with a capital P. That doesn't stop the little green monster in his chest from rearing its head.

It doesn't stop there, either. Eddie starts to see Steve kiss the rest of the Party. Simple little forehead kisses and temple kisses and kisses on the crowns of their heads, like he's their parent, which, well, he is. He does it when Dustin needs comfort. He slings an arm around Lucas and pulls him close for a kiss on the temple when Lucas makes a particularly good shot for basketball. He does it to Max, on one of her bad days. He even does it to Mike absentmindedly, who makes a feral screech like an angry cat before everyone starts to laugh at him. And of course, he and Robin are always all over each other.

But he won't kiss Eddie.

It's stupid that he expects it. They don't know each other. Steve's been with this group, been saving them from monsters and scientists and torturers for forever.

Eddie still wants in on it. If only to indulge his pathetic little crush on the former King of Hawkins High.

One night, Steve hosts a movie night, and Dustin invites Eddie along. He goes, because of course he does, and takes a seat on the end of the couch as Steve puts in the tape.

Eddie immediately forgets what the movie is, because Steve sits down next to him. His entire brain is a fuzzy kind of static that only intensifies when Steve scoots closer.

"Sorry," is the first word Eddie registers out of Steve's mouth, and he hastily tries to collect his thoughts. Steve moves closer, which doesn't help.

He peers around Steve and sees the kids all trying to squish onto the couch. "Scoot over, Eddie!" Mike shouts, and Eddie moves as close as he can to the arm of the couch. Steve follows, arm around him and thighs pressed close together.

Okay, then. Eddie can die happily tonight, apparently.

Something jumps at the screen, and Steve flinches.

Eddie learns a new thing about Steve that night. Apparently, when Steve gets frightened, he pulls everyone within reach towards him, like he's trying to shield them with his body. Eddie finds himself hugged to Steve's chest and has to employ breathing exercises to get rid of his new little...problem.

He somehow makes it through the movie without spontaneously combusting, a feat nothing short of a miracle. The kids run to the kitchen and Eddie can hear Dustin pick up the phone and say, "Hello, Paulie's Pizza?"

Steve sighs and gets up. "I did not say they could order pizza," he grumbles. He extends his hand to Eddie, and after a second of bewildered staring, Eddie manages to grab it and pull himself to standing.

Robin's sitting on the couch still (she had been on the other side of Steve), and she watches this interaction with an unreadable expression on her face.

Well, unreadable to Eddie, anyway. Steve and Robin proceed to have an entire conversation with just facial expressions, and Eddie is left in the dark about it.

Steve finally rolls his eyes and stalks into the kitchen. He distracts Dustin with a kiss on the top of his head, then steals the phone. "Hi, yeah," he says, and Eddie recognizes that voice as his King-Steve-takes-what-he-wants voice. "No, that's right. Two medium pepperoni pizzas and a side of garlic knots, yep."

He listens, then says, "I'll be over to pick it up," then places the phone back on the receiver with a click.

"I'm going to get the food." he announces to the room at large. "Eddie, you coming?"

"Sure?" Eddie slings his leather jacket from the back of one of the kitchen table chairs and slides his sneakers on.

The drive is quiet. Multiple times, it looks like Steve wants to say something, but he never does. When the two of them walk in to get the pizza, Steve grabs both boxes. "Can you get the door, Eds?"

Eddie wants to tease him about the new nickname, but he chooses not to, opting instead to nod and say, "Sure thing, Stevie." He pulls open the glass door and says, with a mock bow and a grand gesture, "Your majesty."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Thanks." He (finally!!) goes to kiss Eddie.

However, Eddie is not as short as the kids (and Robin) who Steve normally does this to. Eddie's pretty sure the kiss is supposed to land on his forehead.

It lands on his mouth.

Pretty shoddy kiss, as it were. Mostly, Steve kisses the corner of Eddie's mouth.

Both of their faces burn red. If not for Steve's sports-playing, monster-killing reflexes, the pizzas would be on the ground right now.

"Sorry!" Steve says, hurrying out to his car and tossing the food in the backseat. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."

Eddie slides into the passenger seat. "Finally!" he says.

"What?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Steve, I've been the only one who you haven't been bestowing kisses upon for weeks now. Sorry if I'm excited to be included in the group."

Steve starts the car. "But...those are all platonic kisses."

Eddie scoffs. "What, and kissing me wouldn't be?"

Steve is silent.

"REALLY?" Eddie yells. "Wait, wait-" He leans over the center console. "Steve Harrington, if you wanted a kiss, a romantic kiss, you could have told me before cuddling with me all night!"

Steve sighs. "Fine. Eddie Munson, I'm going to kiss you romantically."

And he leans in.

Eddie's obsessed with the curve and dip of Steve's mouth against his. He greedily cups his hand against Steve's face, his other hand propped up against the center console. Steve tastes like the soda he was drinking earlier, mixed with something richer and deeper that's wholly, entirely Steve.

They break apart at a small crackle from Steve's inner pocket.

"Henderson," Steve says exasperatedly. "That kid is so damn impatient."

"Steve!" Dustin's voice comes from the walkie Steve pulls out. "Have you gotten the pizza yet?"

"Yes, you little shit, we're coming back now." Steve sighs. "Oh! Henderson, find Robin. Tell her it happened."

Eddie shoots Steve a confused look, but Steve just holds up a placating hand, a slight smile on his face.

"OH MY GOD STEVE!" comes Robin's voice on the walkie. "HELL YEAH!"

Steve cackles and leans back in to kiss Eddie, who happily accepts.

[lovebugism]

“I’m not the easiest person to talk to, or be around. It’s… hard for other people to love me. I get that.” with Eddie? Maybe he and reader are sorta rivals or frenemies?

here's an unsolicited part 2 to this fic! hope you like it :D — eddie knows you like him now, so you find it extremely hard to be normal around him accordingly (enemies to lovers, grumpy!reader, more succession references, 2.3k)

You walk into the Hideout behind Steve and Robin, hands trembling and sticky with sweat. 

The humid air of the overcrowded bar and the overwhelming stench of cheap beer do little to quell your swirling stomach. The too-loud music and bustling bodies are hardly more than a harsh reminder of the last time you were here — pouring your heart out to Eddie Munson in the form of anxious word vomit, only to be hopelessly turned away. 

Not quite rejected but hardly embraced, which is somehow more embarrassing. 

“You alright?” Steve asks once you’ve ducked into the dim hallway of the backstage area. 

The music and muddled chatter are mostly stifled now, but the walls continue to pulse with life — riddled with chipping paint and dubious stains that only add to your unease. You try to swallow down your distant ennui, hoping it isn’t as obvious as it feels. (It is). Your loud feelings are too big for your body, and it’s got your face softly screwed together like you’ve tasted something sour.

The concerned glint in Steve’s eyes makes you cower. “Yeah. I’m peachy,” you deadpan with an unconvincing shrug. “Why?”

“‘Cause you look like we’re leading you to slaughter,” Robin scoffs.

“You’re asking me to be nice to Eddie Munson for two hours,” you grouse. “So, excuse me if I’m not the most chipper.”

The brunette girl flashes you a look over her shoulder, ocean eyes smudged with dark liner. “Scared you’ll spontaneously combust?” she jokes with her hand wrapped around the rusted knob of the faux greenroom. It feels more like her chipped maroon nails have grabbed your heart and twisted.

“Terrified,” you monotone just before she swings the door open.

The tiny, windowless room smells like sweat and grocery store cologne. It’s crowded with vanity mirrors, plastic folding chairs, and suitcases — hardly big enough for a heavy metal band. 

The three of you run into Gareth and Jeff on your way in. The two look nothing like themselves as you shuffle past them in the doorway, sharing fleeting glances and awkward greetings as you go. A couple of D&D nerds in leather and eyeliner feels almost uncanny.

It’s the same with Eddie, sort of. Curls drenched with sweat, eyes smudged black, tanktop damp around the neckline — a total rockstar. You’re not sure if it’s the raucous outfit stirring your stomach or the body wearing it.

“Oh, shit— You assholes actually showed!” Eddie beams at the sight of you. “And you dressed for the occasion, too.”

The boy in all black and silver stands before the three of you, still dressed in corporate attire after working late shifts. Steve and Robin look at least mostly normal without the Family Video vests and branded name tags. You, however, look like one of those businesswear catalogs brought to life — glaringly out of place. 

“You sayin’ The Gap isn’t proper Hideout attire, Munson?” Steve quips, holding his arm out for a friendly (only slightly awkward) side embrace.

Eddie slaps the back of the boy’s collared shirt with a ringed hand. “Claire’s is more metal than The Gap,” he teases, then turns to hug Robin. “At least Buckley looks halfway normal.”

“And by normal, you mean hot, right?” she jokes, voice deep and gritty and effortlessly sultry.

He scoffs. “Obviously.”

Eddie has no trouble greeting Steve and Robin but loses most of his cool when he turns to you.

The not-so confession at Benny’s Burgers seemed to change more things between you than the heart-felt one you shared here not too long ago. He feels a bit weird, knowing now that you meant what you said — that you actuallyliked him, and that it wasn’t just some cruel joke. 

He feels like he’s got cool points to win with you now. And it makes him achingly aware of when he inevitably loses them.

“Look at you,” Eddie grins, tossing his chin back to shake wild curls from his face. A few chestnut strands cling stubbornly to his sticky forehead. The milky white tendons of his neck shine with sweat, too. “You look like an actual human person.”

“Wow. Thanks, Eds,” you monotone, unsure of whether or not to take his words as a compliment. You cross your arms over the chest of your fitted turtle neck and joke, “I’d say that same, but… you look like a poodle that just washed up on shore.”

Robin mumbles your name through gritted teeth, flashing you a look and poking you on the shoulder. She scolds you like a parent, as though to say be nice without actually saying the words out loud.

“What?” you shrug.

Eddie only chuckles — a low and honeyed sound he presses to your ear when he brings you suddenly in for a hug. His lean body meets yours, soft and strong and slightly clammy. His skin smells like deep cologne, minty aftershave, and very faintly of boy. You tense when his hands cradle your back.

“Oh,” you mumble in surprise, floundering at the affection as you attempt to hold him back. “Okay.”

“How’s the nine-to-five?” Eddie asks after he parts from you, sounding almost like he cares. “Boring the absolute shit outta you?”

You shrug with an air of nonchalance and hope you don’t look as flustered by his attention as you feel. “Oh, you know… Burying the bodies, counting the cash.”

“Gotta picture of me in your little cubicle?”

“Tons,” you answer. “It’s basically an Eddie Munson shrine.”

His smile widens to show all his teeth. His chocolate eyes glitter with mischief, too, like he knows what he’s doing to you. 

Eddie gives you a break from his suffocating stare and looks to Steve and Robin standing on his other side. You feel like you can finally breathe. “I told Greg at the bar to give my friends free beer tonight— just show him your ID or whatever,” the boy tells them.

“Oh, my god— I could kiss you right now,” Robin mumbles.

Eddie’s plush pink lips curl into a half-smirk when he turns to you again. “So try not to run up your tab tonight, alright, sweetheart?” he quips and pats you on the arm. It’s easier to joke that he hadn’t mentioned you at all when your name was first from his lips. Which is totally a joke you would’ve made.

You flash Steve and Robin a wide-eyed look of annoyance, jaw clenched to contain all the insults you instinctively want to spew. “He got us free beers,” the former cautions with a sympathetic shrug. “Don’t ruin it.”

You roll your eyes and hear them leave behind you — not even trying to pretend like they didn’t swing byfor the beers. Eddie’s stupid grin widens when you stay. “You heard the man. Means you gotta be nice to be all night.”

“Right,” you scoff like it’s funny. Steve The Hair Harrington doesn’t exactly scream figure of authority to you. Robin Buckley, maybe. But definitely not Steve.

“Think you can do it without spontaneously combusting?” he quips.

You hate that he knows you so well. “Not particularly,” you deadpan.

Eddie tilts his wild head to the side and sends you a pretty, tight-lipped smile. “Well, you’re doing a great job already.”

His praise is sarcastic. You know this already, so you’re not sure why it has your stomach doing backflips. “Thanks…” you mumble, inherently shrinking inside yourself as you attempt to make small talk. “How, uh— How was the show?”

“Fine,” the boy hums, shrugging his pale shoulders. “Same set from last time. Same crowd of drunks.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

“Eh. Don’t be. You’ve actually got important shit going on— Don’t worry about me.”

“Your shit’s important, too,” you argue without thinking, perhaps more shocked by your sincerity than the boy ahead of you. You follow quickly and much more harshly, “I guess.”

Eddie smiles wordlessly. You start to squirm in place. He watches you grow suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin as you seem to look everywhere but back at him. The pink expression ebbs into a more concerned one. “You okay?”

You hate the question more the second time. 

“Fine,” you monotone, hardly convincing.

He squints. “Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

“I am looking at you,” you argue just to argue, giving him a measly glance before turning away a moment later.

“No, seriously,” Eddie chuckles, reaching out to touch you. “What’s going on?”

His ringed hand caresses the outside of your elbow. You jerk back on instinct, more aggressive than you mean to be. 

“Nothing!” you huff, looking so far away from him that he can only see your profile. You grumble like a storm cloud, “You just— You make me go all weird. As you know. And fully intend.”

“That’s what this is all about?” Eddie chuckles. “You got a little crush on me?”

He reaches out for you again, this time digging his fingers into the junction of your neck. You swat him away with a harsh hand. You hate the way his touch makes your skin buzz. 

“You’re such a dick,” you groan before spinning on your heel. Your slacks swish around your ankles as you walk the very short distance to the door. Eddie’s footsteps sound much heavier in comparison as he rushes behind you. 

“Hey, hey, hey! C’mon. I’m just kidding,” he assures, still laughing as he slides his body between you and the exit. He meets your glare with a crooked smile. “It’s okay. I got a crush on you back— you know that.”

You hate how easily the words spill from his mouth, how cool he is about all of it compared to the time bomb you’ve become — tick tick ticking away as your anxiety builds. You figure this stupid crush (or whatever he wants to call it) must mean more to you than it does to him. So again, you turn away.

Eddie knocks his worn sneaker against the toe of your pleather boot. “Just because you don’t believe me doesn’t make it any less true, you know?” he tells you, quiet and suddenly serious as he tilts his cheek to his shoulder. “Doesn’t make me like you any less, either.”

His confession makes you feel funny. It makes you giddy and fills you with dread all at once. “It’s just… It’s weird,” is all you can think to say, after several long moments of silence.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I— I’m not— I don’t know,” you groan, bringing your hands to your face to hide behind your palms. “God, I did not intend to talk about this today.”

“Well, too late. We’re talking about it.”

Eddie takes a step away from the door, moving impossibly closer to you. He ducks his chin to meet your sheepish gaze, dark eyes sparkling with visible concern. 

You step back from him on instinct and talk wildly with your hands. “No! Tonight was supposed to be about you— about you’re fucking show— not about me!”

Brows raised and hidden behind his sweat-drenched bangs, he monotones. “Say it.”

A stubborn sigh puffs out your lips. “I just… I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to. Or to be around. I know that,” you confess. “I know it’s hard for people to like me, but… you do, and I really don’t fucking get it, okay? It just feels like you’re playing a big, dumb prank on me.”

Eddie stays silent for a moment, chocolate gaze unwavering as he ponders your words. 

“Wait, so…” the boy trails off, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “You’re mean to me, but I like you anyway, and because I can see through all the— faux bitchiness or whatever— You have a hard time… being around me?”

Your eyes flit to the ceiling for a moment. You look back at him and nod. “Yeah, that’s… That’s pretty much the gist of it, yeah.”

Eddie beams before he can help it, filling the dingy room with golden sunshine. “Well, you know how we get past that, right?” he wonders and scrunches the bridge of his nose.

You get the feeling he’s teasing you still, but you entertain him anyway. “What?”

“Us being boyfriend-girlfriend—”

“Eddie,” you groan with your head tilted back, only partly pretending to be annoyed. You don’t step back from him when he inches closer to you this time, though. You don’t jerk away from his touch when his hands caress your forearms, either. 

“I know you wanna…” he lilts, pulling you closer with ringed fingers wrapped gently around your wrists. Your shoes scuff the carpet as you stumble into his chest. “It’s why I make you go all funny, right?”

You squint up at him, with hate in your eyes and your heart in your throat. “You’re so annoying,” you deadpan.

“Okay, how about this? We can just go on one date, alright?” Eddie offers, smoothing his guitar-string calloused fingers up your shoulders. “Nothin’ fancy, I promise. Just bottomless breadsticks at Enzo’s at seven. And you, bottom-less at my place at eight.”

Your knotted stomach does a backflip at his words, but you keep glaring at him anyway. “And who says you don’t know how to flirt?” you squint.

Another chuckle spills from his plush, pink lips. His tongue darts out to wet them a second later — mouth desperate to be kissed. “‘Kay. Fine. How about we just makeout in my van after closing? And I try not to be a total idiot and ruin it like last time?”

He’s much more serious now. You can see it in his very expressive button eyes. He’s borderline pleading now, for a second chance he never needed to ask for. 

You cave, far quicker and with a lot less fight than he expected. “Fine,” you shrug with an unenthusiastic huff.

Eddie smiles so big, it’s like you’ve just told him you loved him or something — all his teeth on display — so wide and full of adoration it almost hurts. 

[thesimpirediaries]

Pet names.

featuring: izuku midoriya, bakugou katsuki, kirishima eijirou, todoroki shoto

or, the first instance in which they called you by a pet name.

⚠️: fem!reader, language, slightly suggestive themes/elements, fluff, slight bodily descriptors.

word count: 1.5k

You bet your ass that the first time Izuku referred to you by a pet name, he stuttered helplessly over it. Scratch that — the first couple times he did it he stuttered.

“B-b-babe, could you hand me my notebook?”

It had certainly caught you off guard; in the few months that Izuku and yourself had been dating, you were always (y/n) or your hero name to him — hearing the term “babe” fall from his lips, even as stuttered and botched as it was, sounded so damn pleasant that you couldn’t help the wide grin that split your face.

“What was that, Izuku? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Izuku’s face could have rivaled the hue of a tomato as he repeated, “u-um, my notebook? Could you hand it to me?”

With a teasing smile, you tutted and shook your head. “I heard that part; I meant the part before it.”

Your hand stilled inside his bag as you watched him expectantly. Izuku’s viridian orbs were darting around the room, landing on every object except you, and his freckled cheeks were so red that you swore you could feel the heat permeating off of them despite the few feet of distance between the two of you.

“B-babe?” Izuku repeated, still avoiding your gaze, cheeks still red as a tomato.

It was actually quite endearing, the way he tried desperately to sound casual even as his entire being threatened to spontaneously combust. You knew from past experience that it wouldn’t bode well to continue to tease Izuku, so you relented and once again began to fish through his backpack.

“Which one do you need?” You inquired, hit with the sudden realization the Izuku had multiple notebooks tucked away inside his bag; another facet of your boyfriend that you found quite lovable — you’d always had a thing for the nerdy ones.

“Ah, number six. Sorry, I forgot to add that.”

You smiled softly at Izuku’s statement and gingerly pulled out a stack of notebooks, sifting through them until you located the one marked with a large six. You stood from the bed and meandered over to your boyfriend, a sly grin teasing at your lips.

You placed the thick, slightly rugged edition into his waiting palm, wrought with the desire to tease him just a little bit more. You planted your hands on the armrests of his chair and pulled it until Izuku could face you, then leaned forward until your lips barely ghosted his.

“I like the way it sounds when you call me that. You should do it more often, Izuku.” You whispered, lids dropped halfway over your eyes and a heat simmering low in your belly. The shuddered, breathy, hot pant Izuku released against your lips only added fuel to the fire.

“You’re in the way, dollface.”

You were sure Bakugou hadn’t meant for the word to affect you so viscerally — at least, not at the moment he said it, nor with the situation that had prompted it.

Rescue training was far departed from the list of Bakugou’s favorite hero activities, and he’d been in a bit of a foul mood ever since Aizawa had mentioned it; and even as his girlfriend, you weren’t spared of the backlash of it. Though, you didn’t get it quite as hard as the rest of the class did, at least.

As Bakugou had griped moments before, you were indeed in the way — there was no way he could get through to the ‘injured citizen’ with where you were standing, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Dollface. Dollface. Dollface.

The name, wrapped up in Bakugou’s rolling timbre, bounced around your skull and completely rid you of the ability to move — your face was quickly warming, and your chest was brimming with something fluttery, and, the longer it stayed on loop in your head, the more it affected you.

Bakugou had never called you something like that.

“W-what did you say?” You squeaked out, wide eyes trained on Bakugou’s scowling face. One blonde brow twitched, and you faintly registered a distinct crackling from below.

“You’re in the way.” Bakugou barked out once more, with a lot more patience than he would have with anyone else; though you figured many of your peers wouldn’t have been able to register that like you could.

“R-right.” You mumbled, stumbling quickly out of the way. Bakugou released a chortled breath from his nose and stalked forward — but of course, your boyfriend wasn’t an idiot, nor was he blind; he had noticed the way your cheeks colored prettily the moment your brain registered what he’d called you.

After he’d secured the ‘injured citizen’ over his shoulder, Bakugou leaned close to your ear, completely careless of the man strewn over him, and whispered lowly;

“Come to my room later, dollface. I’ll need some good entertainment after today.”

With Kirishima, a term of endearment was never optional; it was a standard, one that he was quick to set pretty soon after you’d started dating — and it didn’t take him long to find the one that he felt fit you the most; the one that, in his eyes, you embodied in every way.

“Come on, princess. You can get anything you want — it’s on me.”

At first, you weren’t sure what you were more flustered by; the sudden term of endearment he’d coined you with, or his insistence on paying for the entire meal. Your stunned silence was quickly registered by Kirishima, who scrunched his brows in a mixture of worry and bashfulness.

“Ah, I’m sorry, do you want to pay for your meal? I’m all for an independent woman, by the way.”

You truly weren’t prepared for just how much you liked it. For a long time, your focus had been occupied solely by your goal of becoming a pro; truthfully, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of dating anyone until you met Kirishima. His kind, chivalrous, bright nature had captivated you almost instantly, and you’d been drawn to him since day one.

And this suddenly-formed habit of referring to you as ‘princess’ was quickly nestling deep into your chest and sprouting warmth all throughout it.

With a soft laugh you hooked your arms around his, chest hot and fluttery, and pressed your body against his. You didn’t miss the way he sharply inhaled when your soft chest met his bicep.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you glanced at the bright menu above you, the cedar-y undertones of Kirishima’s cologne tickling your nose as you took a soft breath — then, with a small smile, you glanced shyly up at Kirishima.

“Anything I want?” You softly parroted, prompting a bright, toothy smile from your boyfriend. Kirishima’s eyes were soft and full of something deep as he met your gaze.

“Anything you want, princess.”

God, you swore you were already in love.

In retrospect, you and Todoroki were polar opposites.

Todoroki was cool-headed, skilled, and calculated — you, on the other hand, were quick to temper, prone to impulsiveness, and hardly ever second-guessed your choices. Not to mention, the two of you hailed from completely different backgrounds.

Todoroki was raised with money, was held to a certain societal standard which molded many of his mannerisms, and was, in general, what you’d call fancy.

You were raised far more humbly, with just enough money to scrape by and not many luxuries to call your own, and so you had adapted a sort of carelessness towards your appearance and manners — you were you, and people were just supposed to accept that.

Yet, Todoroki had a way of making you feel as if you weren’t raised that way, as if you hailed from the same exact background as him — as if you were just as fancy, just as sophisticated, just as elegant.

And he did it so effortlessly.

“Do you want another cup of tea, darling?”

You nearly dropped your drained, pristine mug directly to the floor of his bedroom — whether it was influenced more by the sudden shock of his voice slicing through the silence or the unexpected use of the endearment, you weren’t sure.

“W-what?” You managed to choke out smartly, and, as if he were completely ignorant to the sudden short-circuit within your head, Todoroki pointed to the mug clasped within your hands.

“More tea. Your cup is empty.” Todoroki stated, and you glanced down at the cup, blinking rapidly. Darling. He called you darling.

You weren’t sure what to make of the new, warm feeling in your chest; but what you were sure of was that you quite liked it, and you quite liked the way that word sounded from Todoroki’s lips.

With a small, nearly shy smile, you extended your empty cup to Todoroki with a subtle nod.

“Yes, I’d like more tea, please. Thank you.”

Todoroki’s smile was dazzling, painting his face an even deeper shade of handsome, and his voice caressed you with a featherlight touch as he murmured, “of course, darling.”

eeek I had so much fun writing these! If you enjoyed, please don’t hesitate to leave a like/comment/reblog. And, if you like the way I write, maybe consider following or sending in a request of your own!

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[fastlikealambo]

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you. 

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jace lived, Helaena lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit.  During the short war, Rhaenyra married Mysaria and one year after the dance of dragons ended, she also married Alicent.

Some other notes: This is dark and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties. 

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three: dawn.

Had the queen not been sitting at your side, you could have easily mistaken the scene before you for any family in King’s Landing.

Laughing children milled about with their nursemaids following close behind and there were several toys in your lap given to you by Rhaenyra’s youngest sons. It was loud and joyful and there was an ease to the dragon queen’s smile.

   “I apologize, I know you wanted to settle in first but I couldn’t not stop in, the noise is something we all have grown accustomed to as I’m sure you will with time.” Rhaenyra said, bouncing her daughter Visenya on her knee.

    “I don’t mind it all, Your Grace. It has been my mother and I my whole life, I welcome noise. Especially such happy noise after such dark times.” 

   “I’ve sent the Queensguard to bring your mother shortly, you need not feel alone here.  I was once known as the realm’s delight but somehow I believe that title will be passed to you. Know that here and when we are alone, I’m only Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra said, taking your hand.

The doors swung open and in walked two women that Rhaenyra rose to greet and kiss. You had never laid eyes on Queen Mysaria or Queen Alicent but judging by the way they looked at you with curiosity and coldness that had to be them.

   “May I present my consorts, Queen Mysaria and Queen Alicent.”

You rose and curtsied, the fear creeping in once more.

Would they see you as a friend and lover?

Or a threat?

Mysaria came forward first with a raised eyebrow but a warm embrace. She seemed to breathe you in all at once and you felt her embrace shift to fit you with precision and intimacy. 

       “You are most welcome here, don’t be afraid.” Mysaria said, squeezing both of your hands before stepping back with a pleasant smile, studying you all the same. 

Alicent stepped forward elegantly and you felt more exposed beneath her gaze than Rhaenyra’s.  The redhead offered no embrace but her lips were soft and brisk upon your cheek, pulling away politely.

       “So many new faces around the keep but yours will be hard to forget, welcome.” Alicent said, voice like a lemon cake in another room,  distantly sweet with a sharp near sour undertone.

This was a woman who was used to getting what she wanted and you were not what she wanted.

For now. 

         The conversation was interrupted by a hairy prickling that slowly traveled down your sleeve. Mysaria let out a small gasp as you looked down to see a rather large spider on your arm and though you wanted to shake your arm and scream, something told you not to.

A younger blonde girl rushed forward without a word, carefully coaxing the spider off your arm and into her hands.

   “I’m sorry.” She muttered quietly but you smiled in return and relief.

   “You have nothing to be sorry for, the little one only wanted to say hello, no harm done.” You said.

    “This is Princess Helaena, my daughter.” Alicent said, the first real smile to cross her face since greeting Rhaenyra.

      “A pleasure to meet you Princess, I look forward to getting to know you and all the creatures I have yet to make an acquaintance with.”

   Helaena cocked her head to the side and looked somehow at you and completely through you before walking away.

      “Close your window  at night, there are lions in the rain.”  She muttered, low enough for only you to hear and was gone just as quickly as she arrived.

  There was no time to ponder what that meant as Rhaenyra kissed her wives again, lips trailing down Mysaria’s neck before inhaling her scent deeply. She then turned to Alicent, bringing her forehead to Alicent’s own, cradling the back of her head.

    “We’ll talk more at dinner but for now, let’s get you settled into your quarters, you must be tired.” Rhaenyra said and took your hand again.

  “Thank you both for welcoming me so kindly, I know I will be happy here.” You addressed Mysaria and Alicent with a smile that they both returned before going their separate ways.

  “You can breathe now, you did well.” Rhaenyra said, squeezing your hand as you made your way through the keep.

  “ They are both formidable, I understand why you would choose them to sit by your side. I don’t believe I am formidable but I know I will do my best.” You said and Rhaenyra stopped at a door, hand cradling your cheek. 

      “I have known you less than a day and formidable is a perfect word for you, among many more.”  

Rhaenyra threw open the door to the most beautiful chambers you had ever seen, a bed wide enough to fit all in the castle, a roaring fire, and a bathtub you could practically swim in much less bathe. 

It was all yours, there was no waiting, no looking over your shoulder, you would sleep well and so would your mother for the first time in years.

Why did it take an act of blood for the gods to favor you?

Rhaenyra led you to a mirror, wrapping her arms around your waist.

       “Mysaria is my star, Alicent is my sky, and you will be my dawn. Whatever you could want for is given freely, all I ask is that you remember the dignity of the seat you will hold, keep my counsel, and honor yourself. There can be no secrets between us now.”

You placed your hand over Rhaenyra’s hand, tiny flecks of dried blood beneath your nails.

  “No secrets.”

That’s it for this chapter! Thank you for reading!

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

@awolfcsworld

@wannabwanted

@evattude

[30somethingautisticteacher]

The Dry Spell

It's fairly common knowledge that first responders work long shifts together, often 24 or 48 hours at a time. This kind of togetherness builds strong bonds and makes it nearly impossible to keep secrets. Which was why the entire station seemed to know that Buck and Tommy were in a bit of a dry spell right now.

Buck was in the locker room, changing after a particularly grueling shift. He didn't mean to start venting, but Hen had asked how things were going at home, and before he knew it, he was spilling his guts.

"I mean, it's been over 3 weeks," Buck said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "And yes, partially it's been us having opposite schedules, but it hasn't only been that. It's just...3 weeks. I'm starting to go crazy."

Hen nodded sympathetically, leaning against the lockers. "That's rough, Buckaroo. Have you talked to Tommy about it?"

Buck sighed, closing his locker with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "I've tried, but every time I bring it up, something comes up. A call, Emmett needs something, one of us is too tired... It's like the universe is conspiring against us."

He lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "And the worst part? I'm turned on like, all the time now. It's getting ridiculous. Yesterday, I got distracted during dinner because Tommy reached across the table for the salt. The salt, Hen!"

Hen tried to suppress a smile, but failed. "Oh, Buck. You've got it bad."

"I know," Buck groaned. "It's like I'm a teenager again. I can't focus. Every little thing Tommy does is suddenly the hottest thing I've ever seen. This morning, he was just getting ready for his shift, putting on his flight suit, and I nearly lost it."

"Maybe you two need to schedule some alone time," Chimney chimed in as he walked into the locker room. "You know, make it a priority."

Buck flushed red. "Chim! How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know you're about to combust," Chimney teased. "Seriously though, Buck. Talk to your husband. I'm sure he's feeling it too."

Buck nodded, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping up his neck. "Yeah, you're right. I just... I miss him, you know? Not just the physical stuff, but the intimacy, the connection. Though right now, I wouldn't say no to the physical stuff either." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and a sly grin spread across his face. "Wait a minute, Chim. Does this mean you're offering to babysit Emmett?"

Chimney's eyes widened as he realized the implication of his advice. "I, uh..."

Hen burst out laughing. "Oh, he's got you there, Chim! You can't give advice without being willing to back it up."

Chimney sighed dramatically, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fine, fine. Maddie and I can take Emmett for a night. But I don't want to hear any details, got it?"

Buck's face lit up. "Chim, you're a lifesaver! I promise, no details. Just... thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Chimney waved him off, but he was smiling. Just make it count, Buckaroo."

Buck's blush deepened, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Finally, a chance for some alone time with Tommy. Now he just had to make it through his shift without spontaneously combusting at the thought.

It took everything in Buck's power not to speed home. As soon as he walked through the door, he called out, "Tommy!"

"In the kitchen, babe," Tommy's voice replied.

Buck rushed into the kitchen, his eyes wild with excitement. "Pack Emmett a bag. We gotta go!"

Tommy turned from the stove, spatula in hand, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Sex," Buck blurted out, his cheeks flushing. "Lots of sex. So much sex."

Tommy's eyebrows shot up, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, but I'm still not sure I follow."

Buck took a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to explain coherently. "Okay, so I may have been venting at work about our... dry spell. And Chimney offered to babysit Emmett for the night so we could have some alone time."

Understanding dawned on Tommy's face, followed quickly by a mischievous grin. "Oh, I see. And you're in such a hurry because...?"

"Because," Buck said, stepping closer to Tommy, his voice dropping low, "I've been going crazy thinking about you all day. Do you know how distracting you are? This morning, watching you put on your flight suit... I nearly lost it right there."

Tommy's eyes darkened with desire. "Is that so?" he murmured, setting down the spatula and wrapping his arms around Buck's waist.

"Mhmm," Buck hummed, leaning in for a kiss. "I've been imagining all the things I want to do to you once we're alone."

Just as their lips were about to meet, they heard the patter of little feet.

"Daddy! Papa!" Emmett's voice called out.

They broke apart, both chuckling but with heat still in their eyes. "I'll go pack his bag," Tommy said, pressing a quick kiss to Buck's cheek. "You go tell him he's having a sleepover with Aunt Maddie and Uncle Chim."

As Tommy headed upstairs, Buck called after him, "I'll text Maddie to pick him up. The sooner they get here..."

Tommy paused at the top of the stairs, throwing a smoldering look over his shoulder. "The sooner we can pick up where we left off."

Buck grinned, anticipation coursing through him. "Exactly."

As they separated to prepare for their evening, both men felt a surge of excitement. Buck quickly sent a text to Maddie, asking if they could pick Emmett up as soon as possible. Then he went to find their son, his mind already racing with thoughts of what the night would bring once they were alone.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Buck opened it to find Maddie, Chimney, and Jee-Yun.

"Uncle Buck!" Jee exclaimed, hugging his legs.

"Hey there, munchkin," Buck said, ruffling her hair. "Thanks for coming so quickly, guys."

Chimney raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face. "No problem. Wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

Buck felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, Tommy appeared with Emmett and his overnight bag.

As they said their goodbyes to Emmett, promising to pick him up tomorrow afternoon, Buck and Tommy exchanged heated glances. The moment the door closed behind Maddie, Chimney, and the kids, Tommy turned to Buck, his eyes dark with desire.

"Now," Tommy said, his voice low and full of promise, "where were we?"

Buck lunged forward, capturing Tommy's lips in a searing kiss. Their bodies pressed together, and both men groaned at the contact, feeling the evidence of each other's arousal.

"Tommy," Buck gasped, breaking the kiss. "I need you. It's been too long."

Tommy's hands roamed Buck's back, pulling him even closer. "I know, baby. I've missed you too."

As they stumbled into their bedroom, Buck couldn't take his eyes off Tommy. The need to touch, to feel, to taste was overwhelming. Without breaking eye contact, Buck slowly sank to his knees in front of Tommy, his intentions clear.

Tommy's breath hitched, his eyes dark with desire. "Evan," he breathed, voice rough with want.

Buck's hands trembled as he reached for Tommy's belt. "Please," he murmured, "I need this. Need you."

Tommy cupped Buck's face gently, his touch a stark contrast to the urgency thrumming through both their bodies. "We've got all night, baby. Let's take our time, ok?"

Buck nodded, but didn't move from his position. The anticipation was electric, every nerve ending on fire. As Tommy's fingers carded through his hair, Buck leaned forward, ready to show his husband just how much he'd missed him.

They had hours ahead of them to reconnect, to relearn each other's bodies, to make up for lost time. And they intended to savor every moment.

[justmediocrewriting]

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” {v.s}

Summary: Sanji seriously can’t figure what it is he had done to offend you or make you dislike him, but he’s sure he had to of done something; you avoid him like the plague, and if Sanji doesn’t figure out why soon, he’s going to spontaneously combust right there in the galley.

Or: the one in which Sanji is completely oblivious to the crush you have on him, until he isn’t.

Genre: fluff

Requested: ❌

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is afab, she/her pronouns, use of (y/n)

A/n: so this cute little idea was tickling in the back of my head because i have this headcanon that even though Sanji is the worlds biggest flirt and a major lover of women, he genuinely can not tell when a woman actually has a crush on him, and thus this was born lol. I hope you all enjoy! And don’t forget to leave a like if you did, and don’t be shy to send in a req if you like the way I write! ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been occurring for weeks, and if he were being honest, Sanji truly felt as if he were going absolutely crazy.

Sanji was not a perfect human being; he knew this, and he was all too aware of his own flaws — but he didn’t believe he was a bad person. On the contrary, he felt he was more likable than he was dislikable, and the crew for the most part seemed to share his same opinion.

Except for you.

Sanji didn’t know what it was about him that bothered you, but there had to be something there, considering the fact that you went out of your way to ensure you would never end up in a position in which you were to be alone with him, and whenever he was around, you avoided his eyes, and his attempts at conversation were generally ignored — it was quite irksome, and the smug little smirks Zoro sent his way any time it happened definitely didn’t help.

At first, Sanji thought perhaps it wasn’t him, but you. Upon first meeting he noticed the rather shy disposition you possessed, so in the beginning, Sanji just chalked your avoidance of him up to nervousness and the need to settle in. But as time went on, Sanji observed you — Sanji was always observing, mentally clocking the conditions and stability of his crewmates — and his gut twisted when he noticed you growing warmer to every other crewmate except him; you even seemed to be comfortable with Zoro, now.

Sanji tried his best to not let this fact affect him, and he instead tried to compartmentalize and break down the reasons as to why before automatically jumping to any unpleasant conclusions; perhaps you had warmed up to the others faster simply due to exposure. When Sanji had landed on that particular conclusion, he decided the best course of action to take would be to ease into a closer bond with you.

His attempt at that had quickly gone awry; the ship had docked at a small island, one fairly well known for its bountiful fruit and vegetable harvests, and Sanji was set on making a list of the crew’s current food stores, but when he’d entered the galley and noticed you — just you, without Usopp or Nami flanking you as he’d grown accustomed to seeing — his initial task had been swept away to be replaced by another.

You hadn’t yet noticed his presence, as your nose was pointed down and buried in a rather thick looking book, one hand wrapped delicately around a mug resting on the hanging table, and Sanji couldn’t refrain from taking the chance to really look at you.

Your hair was pulled up into a messy bun atop your head, a few stray locks falling from the hold of your hair tie and framing the delicate features of your face, and Sanji’s heart stuttered in his chest at the way your soft lips mouthed the words of the book as you read. Sanji knew you were attractive, had thought so since the first time he’d laid eyes on you, but with your near constant avoidance of him, it was difficult for him to be able to take any time to map your features; and Sanji was feeling eternally grateful that he was given the opportunity, and part of him didn’t want to announce his presence, because he had the sinking feeling that once you noticed him, you’d be flying out of the galley at mach ten.

But that was also another problem that Sanji was dead set on rectifying, so he pushed away any unpleasant feelings and decided to announce his presence in a way that wasn’t overly shocking — but he had underestimated your level of skittishness, and the moment in which he decided to clear his throat was the exact same moment in which you’d decided to take a sip from your mug, with which held steaming liquid within.

The instant the sound left his throat you jumped, your head snapped up and you lost your grip on the mug — leading it to falling into your lap, the contents spilling over your front and your thighs. Sanji’s heart froze inside his chest as a loud hiss escaped your lips and you slammed your knee into the bottom of the table in a frenzied scramble. Your beautiful face contorted into an expression of pain, and before Sanji could even think twice about it his body was moving, propelling him to your side in an instant.

“I’m so sorry, love, are you okay?” Sanji pushed out, hand flashing forward to grab your arm and pull it gently out of the way so he could examine the damage. Sanji winced as he noticed your legs were bare, the skin at the top an ugly shade of irritated red, and worry lanced through his gut. Tugging on your arm gently, Sanji coaxed you out of your seat.

“Come on, let’s get to the sink. We need to cool the skin before it scalds.” Sanji would have been surprised when you quietly let him lead you from the table to the counter if it weren’t for the sheer panic he was feeling. Twisting the cold tap hurriedly Sanji ripped the towel from the cabinet handle just below the sink and shoved it beneath the stream, thoroughly wetting it then ringing it out slightly before moving to place it against the burns —

Sanji nearly winced at the resounding slap that split through the galley when you smacked his hand away. Without much to offer in explanation you ripped the wet towel away from his hand and it suddenly dawned on him — he was about to place his hand in a spot that was highly inappropriate, even if the intentions were caring in nature. Sanji flushed and despite the situation, his eyes roved over your plush thighs in a way that was starkly opposite than checking damage. Feeling utterly disappointed in himself, Sanji parted his lips to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You said softy, avoiding his eyes. “T-thanks, Sanji, but I’ve got it from here.”

Sanji barely had the time to register your words (he was still frozen from the absolute beauty that was your voice speaking directly to him, saying his name) before you were scurrying away, water dripping a small path from the sink to the door out of the galley.

{{================================}}

Days had passed since the incident in the galley, and you hadn’t uttered a word to Sanji since — you didn’t even really look in his direction, and when he’d come to return your book to you and ask how you were doing, you only gave him one seldom nod and then snatched your book away before slamming the door in his face.

Only this time, Sanji couldn’t really blame you.

Of course, there was no way you could have known of the brief indecency he’d given you, but the fact that he’d startled you enough to cause you to burn yourself was enough of a reason to be angry at him, in his opinion — but his understanding of the situation didn’t make it any less irritating.

Only now, he was irritated for a different reason.

Sanji felt as though hearing his name on your lips was like taking a hit of a strong drug; ever since he had experienced it, he just wanted more. Sanji wanted to hear you speak to him, not just around him; he wanted you to converse with him, to tell him all the things that you’d already told everyone else about yourself, and, selfishly, he wanted you to tell him more — to tell him things that you’d never revealed to anyone, not even Usopp or Nami.

Sanji wanted to look into your eyes and commit them to memory, so that he could see the vibrancy of them even when he closed his own. He wanted to watch the way your lips formed words, and he wanted to hear that delicate laugh bubble from your throat because of him — and that was the crutch of it all.

Sanji wanted all of this for himself.

He wanted all of it because of himself.

And Sanji knew it was selfish, knew it was immature, because he also knew why he wanted all of this; it was because he had been deprived of it for so long.

And wasn’t that such a childish way to look at it?

Sanji couldn’t help but compare himself to a toddler being jealous of another’s toy — any time he watched you swapping words and laughs with someone else, even Nami, Sanji would feel envy bubbling beneath his skin, scratching his brain to try and figure out why you’d felt him undeserving of your time and attention. It sounded truly vain, if he was being honest.

But Sanji just couldn’t help it.

Something about you was drawing him in, making him itch for more, for anything, even the smallest morsel of attention or acknowledgement.

Sanji just needed to talk to you, or something. Get to the bottom of whatever it was — maybe if you could both put it to bed, these annoying desires would fade away.

“That fish personally insult you, or something?”

Sanji’s head snapped up at the sound of Nami’s voice, lips opening but no words slipping past them.

Nami rolled her eyes and gestured to the still intact fish resting on the cutting board. “You’ve just been glaring at it.”

Sanji’s eyes widened and his cheeks felt warm. He hadn’t even realized he had been so distracted that he hadn’t begun his lunch preparations. Recovering, Sanji sent Nami a small smile and quickly grasped the cutting knife to start in on the beheading and skinning. From his periphery he noticed Nami giving him a strange stare, and he was more than prepared for it when she asked him if he was okay.

“I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me.”

Nami scoffed as if she didn’t believe him but to his relief she didn’t pester; instead she thunked her ink pen once on the table before repositioning it to draw on her chart once more — Sanji wasn’t sure how he could explain what was distracting him without it coming off as too accusatory or abrasive.

But hell if he wouldn’t try.

“Say, you’re pretty close with (Y/N).” Sanji started, not looking up from his handiwork. He heard more than saw Nami lean back against the couch, and he could only picture that she had her arms crossed over her ribs.

“I am, I suppose. Why?”

Sanji bit his lip in thought, wondering if he should just drop the whole conversation before he could take it to the point of no return, but he needed to know; he needed to understand what it was he’d done or said to make you hate him. And if you’d told anyone why, he imagined it would be Nami.

“It’s just… does she hate me, or somethin’?”

Now Sanji couldn’t refrain from looking at Nami, bashfulness be damned. He needed to see Nami’s eyes, so that he could know if whatever her response was would be genuine. What he didn’t expect, though, was for Nami’s eyes to widen comically, nor did he expect her to double over with laughter. It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath, and when she did, she gave him the most vibrant, teasing smile he’d ever seen grace her face. Sanji would be stunned by the beauty of it if he wasn’t so confused by her reaction.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?”

Sanji thought himself akin to a fish when all he could do was flap his lips at her wordlessly, brows furrowing to the point he worried they might stick. Sanji didn’t know what to say to that; was Nami being rhetorical or serious?

“Look, Sanji, she doesn’t hate you.” Nami finally recessed, but the mirthful amusement was still evident in her tone. Sanji wet his bottom lip, relief warring with confusion in the pit of his mind.

“But she avoids me. She won’t even look at me.”

“She looks at you a lot. You just don’t see it.”

Sanji was once again rendered speechless — a part of him wondered if Nami was simply pulling his leg, or if she knew something he didn’t; something she clearly thought should be obvious, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

Nami heaved a great sigh and gathered up her chart and pens, along with her other various navigation gear, and tucked it into her rucksack before rising from the couch. Resting her hands against the counter she leaned forward, the tease in her eyes making Sanji do the same, not even noticing when the tip of his tie grazed the slimy flesh of the fish.

“For a ladies man, you sure don’t know much about them. You should remember that there’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.” Nami whispered, and with barely a glance back she breezed swiftly from the galley, leaving Sanji more confused and fuddled than ever before.

{{================================}}

For the rest of the evening, Sanji continued to toss and turn Nami’s words around in his head; but no matter how much he picked and pulled at them, dissected them and put them back together, he just couldn’t figure it out.

Surely Nami didn’t mean for her words to be as cryptic as they were. Nami wasn’t one to be cryptic; she was blunt and upfront, and unashamed or frightened to speak her mind — it was one of the many traits that Sanji admired in her.

Throughout your time with the crew, Sanji noticed that you were similar to Nami in that respect — you weren’t afraid to put in your own input on certain situations or decisions, and most of the time, your input was quite enlightening and helpful. You also weren’t scared to fight for your own beliefs, even if it meant engaging in a verbal altercation with one of your friends. Outspoken and vibrant with pretty much everyone on the crew, you were, and it was something Sanji found very attractive and annoying at the same time — because you weren’t nearly that strong around him, had never gotten in an altercation with him, choosing instead to avoid him.

Nami said you didn’t hate him — but why else would you avoid him, avoid eye contact, refuse to be alone with him? Why else would your face flush any time you met his eyes accidentally? Why else would you stare at him in secret instead of approaching him?

Sanji promptly dropped the whisk into the bowl of pancake batter, because oh —

Oh.

There’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.

Oh. Shit.

The blushing, the avoiding, the staring in secret… it wasn’t because you hated him — it was because you liked him.

A smile broke on Sanji’s lips and he pulled the whisk out delicately with the tips of his fingers, a warm, fluttery feeling erupting in his chest.

Sanji would have to thank Nami later.