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head over heels ☆ sunghoon park

☆ spider-man! sunghoon x single mother! fem! reader ☆ summary: being a single mother was hard, especially when you lived in such a bustling, yet crime-ridden city. as a mother you personally dislike spider-man, even if your toddler son was obsessed with him. thank goodness, you have your best friend, sunghoon, to help you out at times. but little do you know, that same best friend of yours was spider-man. uh oh! ☆ genre: spider-man! au, friends to lovers, reader is a single mother, riki is your kid lol (can be interpreted as either adopted or biological), baddie reader alert! , down bad! + protective! sunghoon, slow-burn ish/very subtle romance ☆ warning(s)? minor violence ☆ word count: 16.9k words ☆ based off of "head over heels" by tears for fears, also i hope this reads as comic-booky lol

reblogs and feedback is appreciated!

"Sunghoon, is it just me or is Spider-Man the worst thing that's ever happened to this city?"

Sunghoon dropped the kitchen knife in his hand, the one that he was currently using to dice a few carrots.

Clunk!

The man looked over his shoulder to where you were.

It was only a few minutes ago that you came back from work— your 9-5 office job. The moment that your apartment door slammed shut, you kicked off your god-awful shoes, threw your keys aside, and made your way to the kitchen, where you found Sunghoon peacefully already making dinner.

It wasn't abnormal for Sunghoon to be casually in your apartment. In fact, it was more than ordinary.

Sunghoon was a good friend, someone that you had an infinite amount of trust in. Sometimes, your boss liked to fuck you over and make you work overtime, and sometimes your coworkers were so insufferable that all of your energy was spent, so it was convenient that Sunghoon would hang around your apartment and watch over it, and when the time came, make you dinner.

He never minded it. He actually quite enjoyed it. A lot.

Especially because house-sitting came with an extra responsibility: taking care of your son, Riki.

You were a single mother with a full-time job. Of course Sunghoon wouldn't mind taking some of the load off your back.

Currently, you sat at your kitchen table, flopped over yourself. You were still in your work clothes, your face still made up. Your feet ached, and your eyelids felt heavy.

You never questioned why Sunghoon had so much time on his hands, enough time to babysit and house-sit for you.

"Y-Yeah," Sunghoon answered, clearing his throat. "The worst."

Yes, he did have a job. Yes, his job had relatively short work hours. Yes, it paid pretty well.

And it was because Sunghoon was Spider-Man.

But you didn't have to know that.

"Riki's been napping since he got home from daycare," Sunghoon changed the subject. "He wouldn't stop calling out for you, so I had to show him a picture of you for him to fall asleep."

At the mention of your son's name, you perked up. Almost as if all of your tiredness melted away, you jumped to your feet, disappearing into the hallway.

Sunghoon couldn't help the grin that seeped onto his face when you came out with Riki, your one year-old son scooped up in your arms. From the kitchen, he could hear you coo at your son's sleepy face, giggling to yourself as Riki clutched onto you, digging his face into the crook of his neck.

"Riiiikiiii-yaaa!" you drawled, your voice sounding brighter. "I missed you, baby."

Sunghoon laughed, nearly chopping off his finger when Riki babbled some incoherent string of sounds, still sleepy from his long afternoon nap.

You brought Riki into the kitchen, sitting him down onto his baby-chair.

Sunghoon listened quietly, his attention directed at making the best meal possible, as you chattered with your son.

There was something so joyful about hearing you gush over Riki's every attempt to pronounce literally any coherent word, squealing when he managed to say, "dog."

"Mama!" Riki exclaimed, making grabby hands at you. From his peripheral vision, Sunghoon could see you melting, instantly scooping your son back up again, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses.

One of things that Sunghoon loved about you: your endless devotion to your son.

You'd lay down your life for Riki, and it was one of the most loveable things about you.

"Hoo!" Riki laughed. "Hoo!"

The second thing that Sunghoon loved about you? Your son himself.

"Sunghoon, Riki wants you," you said, a smile in your voice. Riki couldn't pronounce Sunghoon, or even Hoon, so he instead opted for the much easier option: 'Hoo.'

Sunghoon instantly dropped his kitchen utensils, quickly washing and drying his hands. You hoisted up your son, carefully placing him into Sunghoon's arms while still having a gentle hold on him.

Sunghoon took the child.

Riki was a beautiful child. Sunghoon had spent a lot of time with him, to the point that he grew very fond of him. If there was something that he and Riki had in common, it was their love for you.

The three of you stayed like that for a few pulses: Sunghoon embracing Riki, while you stood close by, your hands still holding onto Riki.

Sunghoon could see both the tiredness and love in your eyes, and the youthful glimmer in Riki's chubby face.

There were moments like this, where you and Riki were simply close to him, relying on him for whatever support he could give, Sunghoon wished it could last forever.

Then, the three of you sat down to eat.

The rest of the night was quiet. You bathed Riki while Sunghoon prepared his clothes and diapers, and at the end, the two of you tucked Riki in.

"Good night, Riki," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You were already at the doorway, fingering the light switch, when Sunghoon's eyes glazed over Riki.

"Good night, kiddo," he said quietly, so quiet that even Sunghoon couldn't hear himself, before ruffling Riki's hair.

"So, how was work?"

Perhaps, one of Sunghoon's favorite times of the day was after dinner, after you both washed up and Riki was in bed.

The two of you liked to hang around your living room, and just talk. It wasn't like you had any good work friends to talk to, but you didn't mind. After all, you had Sunghoon.

It was another one of those especially stressful and hectic days at work, so Sunghoon brought out a bottle of champagne.

"So bad," you huffed, reclining back on your couch, throwing an arm over your eyes. "So fucking bad."

Sunghoon nudged you with his foot, handing you a glass of sparkly champagne. Then, he rested at the head of the couch, gently taking your head into his hands and placing it onto his lap. His lanky fingers made his way to your shoulders, pressing down onto them. Slowly, he began to massage you.

"What happened?"

You groaned, sinking back into the warmth that was Sunghoon's fingers. "My fuckass boss. Decided to make me do the intern's work because I was five minutes late."

"That sucks," Sunghoon murmured, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made you sigh in relief. "Is he giving you a hard time?"

"Always," you sighed. "I don't know why Choi promoted him. He's got a stick up his ass."

Sunghoon frowned.

He heard you cuss out your shitty boss and coworkers all the time, but he knew deep down, no matter how much you despised them, you would never abandon ship. It was in your blood to care too much, to put your all into something— anything— and expect nothing in return.

And that's what Sunghoon loved so much about you.

That's right, loved.

He threw that word around a lot when it came to you, but he truly meant it.

Sunghoon loved you. He didn't know how, whether it be as a friend, or as a lover, but he loved you and that's all he needed to know.

He loved you since the day you met in your senior years of high school.

He loved you when you cradled his face as he shed hot tears over his heartbreak.

He loved you when you and him snuck around the college dorms, creeping into each other's rooms to enjoy late-night ramen.

He loved you when you met your (now ex-) boyfriend Taehyun, and he didn't even think of loving you any less when you announced that you were having a child with him three years after graduating college.

And he loved you now as you slept peacefully on your couch, curling up against what warmth Sunghoon could give you.

Sunghoon gazed at you.

How could he not resist falling in love with you?

Your eyes kept fluttering as they were shut, your hands randomly twitching at times. You've been working so hard to provide for you and your son, while also sacrificing your time to spend with Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone rang. It was loud, loud enough that Sunghoon jumped and your body instinctively jerked in its place.

"Shit— shit!"

Of course Sunghoon knew exactly where his phone was. He shot a spider web across your house to grab his blaring phone.

Under the dim light, his blue phone screen illuminated the room.

Incoming call... Mr. Lee, it read.

Uh-oh.

Sunghoon was about to take the call, when he noticed you stirring in your sleep.

"Sung...hoon?" you muttered softly. Sunghoon immediately darted to your side.

"Shhh, it's nothing, [Name]," he said gently. He reached out to cup your cheek, to which you nuzzled your face into his palm, softly letting out a sleepy whimper. "Go back to sleep."

After a few moments of stirring, you fell back into your slumber.

Sunghoon glanced at his phone.

Incoming call... Mr. Lee. He couldn't miss it.

Then he glanced back at you, laying on the couch, shivering into yourself.

Fuck it.

Sunghoon scooped you up in his arms, doing his best to be gentle with you. As the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it wasn't always easy trying to control his spidey senses and heightened abilities. But when it came to you, it almost came naturally.

He carried you to your bedroom, tucking you in with as many pillows and blankets as he could find.

"Good night," Sunghoon whispered. He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes studied your face. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, before swallowing down hard. Would it be weird to give your forehead a kiss? He didn't even kiss Riki, because he didn't feel like it was his right to. Sunghoon sighed. He turned away from you, taking one more glance over his shoulder before he turned off the lights and shut your bedroom door.

(Of course, Sunghoon went to go check up on Riki before he cracked open your apartment window, already in his red and blue glory.)

"Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Lee," Sunghoon muttered into his phone. "I know, I'm already on it. Yes. Okay. Bye."

Sunghoon huffed to himself as he jammed his phone into his pocket, muttering curses under his breath.

A bank robbery on Main Street, nothing to be surprised at. The city's crime-rate had been increasing lately, much to Sunghoon's chagrin. The cold air kissed his masked cheeks as he swung from building to building.

It had become a routine for him. Every night, after listening to you talk enough for you to insist that he went home, or staying up late enough to see you fall asleep, Sunghoon usually found himself doing his night patrol. It was mundane, a slow and conventional routine, but Sunghoon loved it.

Seokmin Lee, or DK, was a man a few years his senior, and also the man employing him. To put it simply, DK was a bit of a mad scientist, and under certain circumstances, Sunghoon and him met. After a spider bite, DK's genetically modified organisms, and a lot of crime-fighting, Sunghoon became Spider-Man.

As Sunghoon peeked over the hedge, he watched the group of burglars sneakily creep out of the dark bank. It was insane to him how poor the security was, but what was more concerning was the cartoonish sack of money the robbers were carrying over their shoulders, and the fact that they were wearing black and white striped shirts. They looked like the robbers in Riki's kiddy cartoons.

If Riki was here, Sunghoon thought, he'd probably start laughing.

In one fell swoop, Sunghoon swung down to the robbers, landing a kick square on one of the robbers' heads.

"Agh—!"

"Good evening, gentlemen," Sunghoon greeted calmly, but his voice was filled with contempt. With one of the assailants knocked down, Sunghoon put his hands on his hips, cocking his head. "What're you up to tonight?"

He gazed at their faces: painted with horror and terror. Why didn't they even think of wearing masks when committing a crime? How dumb were they?

"S-Spiderman?!"

There's a pulse of silence, where Sunghoon just stared at them incredulously, almost expecting some sort of retaliation. Even though he was masked, his expression read, 'Can you guys try to put up a fight at least?'

"Get him!" The robbers yelled, beginning to charge at him.

"Let's not be ridiculous, guys" Sunghoon said exasperated, sighing.

He shot a web at two of the robbers as he attempted to attack him, before wrapping the white ropes around them, sticking them together. Another burglar tried to sneak up behind him, but they were almost pathetically too slow for his spider-like abilities.

Within minutes, Sunghoon had the criminals tied up with spider webs. He'd already called the cops.

"Curse you, Spider-man!"

Really, tonight was playing out like one of Riki's cartoons. It was almost funny.

"Yeah, yeah," Sunghoon waved off, brushing off any dirt on his suit. Before he shot a web up to a building, Sunghoon turned over his shoulder. "Next time, get better outfits. You guys look hilarious."

With that, Sunghoon began swinging away, ignoring the curses from the little criminals, whose cries got smaller and smaller.

The worst part about dealing with crime in this city was the outcomes. People saw that other people were attempting to commit crimes, leading them to want to commit crimes too. It was a never-ending snowball effect. It seemed like every day the crime was just escalating. A few months ago it was just petty theft and the occasional mugging every week. Now it seemed like there was some large scheme every day.

If the helicopters flying overhead and the police sirens weren't telling enough, the entire city was awake once again, trying to catch a glimpse of the commotion down on main street.

Checking his phone, there were already several news outlets trying to get a quick buck from reporting the situation. That was probably one of the worst aspects of crime-fighting: the concerning amount of people trying to profit off of it. They just loved to use Sunghoon's red and blue likeness on the front covers.

Truthfully, Sunghoon didn't care about fame. He couldn't stand the reporters shoving microphones in his face.

He only agreed to be Spider-Man for one reason and one reason only.

Ding!

Sunghoon slipped his phone out of his pocket.

[name]: just woke up i heard there was a robbery

[name]: you went home right? are you safe?

The corners of Sunghoon's lips lifted briefly. You had a specific way of showing you care for him, and it was exactly this.

sunghoon: yeah i'm safe

sunghoon: i just went out to get you more groceries

sunghoon: youre missing eggs and milk

[name]: thank you hoon, you didn't have to

But he did have to.

After all, you were you, and you deserved nothing but the best. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to take some responsibility off your shoulders.

sunghoon: i'll be back in 10

sunghoon: go back to sleep

Sunghoon was true to his word, as he returned within 10 minutes, with a bag of groceries in hand, to see you curled up on the couch, waiting for him to return. He couldn't help but smile.

"Hoo!"

Riki?

"Hoo, Hoo!"

Sunghoon was shaken awake by a weight on his chest, and soft, chubby hands grabbing his face.

If it weren't for his incredible spider abilities, Sunghoon thought that he would have punted someone. Luckily, he didn't, because it was Riki that was waking him up.

"Riki?" Sunghoon said groggily. Taking the child in his arms and holding him close, Sunghoon sat up. He noticed that he was back in your apartment, sprawled out across your couch. He squished Riki's cheek, earning a giggle from the baby. The man rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Where's your mom?"

"Right here," your voice entered the room, a slight smile in it. Sunghoon whipped his head around to see you standing at the doorway, in your work clothes.

You slinked over to Sunghoon and Riki.

"Good morning, Sunghoon," you smiled at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you. "What time is it?"

"Almost 8AM," you answered smoothly, taking your son out of Sunghoon's arms and stroking Riki's hair.

Sunghoon immediately jumped to his feet. He usually woke up an hour or two before that to prepare breakfast for you!

"Oh shit—!"

"Relax," you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze and pushing him back down onto the couch. "I already made breakfast. Riki's already fed, too."

Sunghoon watched as you gave Riki a peck on the cheek, before giving your kid back to him.

"I'll be back by 6," you told him as you slipped on your shoes, "Breakfast is on the table, just heat it up if needed."

"Right," Sunghoon nodded slowly. "See you. Have a good day at work."

"You too," you said in a sing-songy voice, before heading out the door, leaving Sunghoon and Riki alone.

"Mama!" Riki cooed, making grabby hands at the door.

Sunghoon gently bonked the baby's head with his fist. "She just left."

Riki's lips formed into a pout, his eyebrows furrowing together as his chubby cheeks puffed out.

"Mama!" he argued back.

Sunghoon couldn't help but poke the kid's cheeks. "I already said, she just left."

And cue the tears.

Sunghoon and Riki had beef. Nothing serious, just that Riki, even if he was an actual baby, liked to bother Sunghoon. And because Riki was already so much like you, it was hard to say no to him. Even so, he found himself butting heads with the child from time to time.

As Riki wailed, Sunghoon sighed, hoisting him up.

"What am I going to do with you..." he muttered to himself.

"Ah wah mama! (I want Mama!)" Riki cried, squirming against Sunghoon's chest.

Days with Riki were fun.

And exhausting.

But more fun than not.

It usually started with feeding him, but thanks to you, he was already fed. The daycare didn't open until another few hours, so in this time Sunghoon found himself being the most shameful version of himself that he could think of. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But it was definitely a side of himself that made him cringe.

Case and point: Sunghoon's dreadful baby voice.

As he sat against the living room floor, Sunghoon let Riki sit on his lap against his chest. For such an active child, Riki especially liked it when Sunghoon read to him.

So that's what Sunghoon did.

Riki's little baby books were the interactive kind, the ones where the little caterpillars sprawled across the cardboard pages were fuzzy and the pop-out orange tree in the corner actually smelled of citrus.

It was unfortunate, at least to Sunghoon, because he always started off the reading with a completely normal voice, and by the end, he'd be talking to Riki with a high-pitched baby voice.

"Feel the grass, Riki," Sunghoon guided Riki's much smaller hand to the furry grassy patch on the book. He didn't even notice the way his voice got softer, going up airily at the end of his sentences. Riki babbled at the feeling of the soft texture under his fingertips, his eyes squeezing together as his high giggles filled the room. Sunghoon grinned. "Feels nice, right?.

Riki laughed again, clapping his chubby hands.

"I bet it does," Sunghoon rubbed his knuckle against Riki's cheek.

"Hoo!" Riki babbled suddenly.

Sunghoon picked the baby up, placing him on his feet and turning him around so that Sunghoon could see his face. Placing his hands on Riki's side to stabilize him, Sunghoon hummed. "What's up?"

"Hoo!" Riki repeated again, making grabby hands up at him. "Ub! (Up!)"

"Aren't you a little too old for upsies?" Sunghoon asked Riki as if he wasn't one year old, but still complied, lifting the kid up and resting Riki's face on his shoulder. Riki really liked it when Sunghoon carried him around while he did stuff, probably because Sunghoon's height made it a thrilling experience for him.

Sunghoon really enjoyed Riki's presence, even if the kid liked to give him hell.

Which was why he narrowed his eyes, looking around suspiciously as if you were there to catch him red-handed, before he tossed Riki’s small body into the air.

If Riki was any other normal baby, he'd scream in fear. But he wasn't. So all Riki did was let out an excited squeal. Almost immediately, Sunghoon shot a web at him, yanking him down from the air and into his arms in an instant.

"You better not tell your mother," Sunghoon booped Riki's nose as the baby clapped his hands, giggling. "She'll kick my ass if she knew that I was throwing you around."

And she'd also beat my ass if she knew that I was Spider-Man.

Speaking of which...

Sunghoon knew better than anyone how you felt about Spider-Man.

In short, you hated him. You hated Spider-Man, and you almost never failed to let Sunghoon know that.

You had a pretty simple reason: even if Spider-Man was a crime-fighter, the way that he was publicized made him more like a celebrity than a public servant. Because of this, people chose to commit more crime in the hopes of getting some sort of attention, which completely defeated the purpose of having a crime-fighter like Spider-Man.

Sunghoon was mere weeks into his job as Spider-Man, in the middle of bandaging up the cut on his hand that he got from fighting crime, when you suddenly barged into your apartment, throwing your bag aside as you exasperatedly began ranting about how a run-in with Spider-Man caused complete and utter hell for you when you commuted back from work.

Many months later you still carried that sentiment.

And if he had to be honest, Sunghoon had to agree with you.

It wasn't like he detested being Spider-Man. After all, it paid his bills and allowed him to watch over you and make sure that you were safe. But, still, he wasn't a fan of the media coverage.

All he wanted to do was protect you and Riki. Was that too much to ask for?

Would Sunghoon ever tell you that he was Spider-Man? Probably not. Would you be mad at him for being Spider-Man? Probably. But would you shun him? Maybe for a month, but not any longer. Still, Sunghoon wasn't afraid of going no-contact with you for a month. It was the fear of disappointing you and losing your trust.

He'd rather die than lose your trust!

But sometimes it was difficult to conceal his identity.

Like right now.

The day went on as per usual: Sunghoon played around more with Riki, before taking him to daycare. Then, Sunghoon went to do his Spider-Man activities, before picking Riki up again. It was the end of a stressful week, so you came home early and announced that you made dinner plans for the three of you.

And that's how Sunghoon found himself sitting in a fancy dimly-lit restaurant. Across from him sat you, wearing a dress that made him stare at you for a little longer than he should have.

Maybe it was the jazz music playing in the background, or the way that your gloss-laden lips clung to the delicate glass of champagne that you swished in your hand, but Sunghoon couldn't take his eyes off of you.

Thanks to the fact that Riki was sitting at the table with his baby high-chair, two of the waiting staff had already mistaken you and Sunghoon for a married couple. Not that Sunghoon minded. And it didn't seem like you minded either, because all you did was throw your head back with a laugh and clutch Sunghoon's arm.

In fact, if Sunghoon had to be honest, you've been confusing him lately.

Or maybe he was confusing himself.

Because he swore that your eyes have been lingering on him lately, running over his figure from time to time before you cracked that little smug grin on your face— the type of grin that made Sunghoon shrink into himself. You've been touchier, holding his arm in the crook right in between your chest, almost like you knew that it would make him nervous. You began picking up this habit of looking at his lips, then gazing back up at his eyes, before licking your own lips with a smile. It was driving him crazy.

Why was he feeling this way?

And more importantly, why were you torturing him like this? You were a mother, you were someone well-respected and feared in your workplace because of your sheer ability to read people. You knew your effect on people, so you must know what you were doing to him. Right?

"Sunghooooon," you sang, resting your face on your hands, propped up in a way that made it impossible to ignore how good you looked tonight. Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes quivering over to you. "What're you thinking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "Nothing."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching across the table to gently hit his hand. "Don't lie to me. I know when there's something on your mind."

"Lie!" Riki giggled, repeating your words like a little parrot. "Lie! Lie!"

"See?" you ruffled your son's hair. "Even Riki agrees. What's up?"

Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but he was distracted when you reached for your glass of sparkly champagne once more, bringing it up to your lips.

"What?" you cocked a brow at him as he stared at you. "We drank with each other last night. What's so surprising about me drinking right now?"

Sunghoon gulped.

You were scary like that, always so straightforward. It made him piss himself, but it also made him want to melt into a pile of mush.

"It's nothing." He cleared his throat. "I'm just stressed about work."

"Awww," you frowned. "What happened?"

Sunghoon was talking straight out of his ass, because you reached over the table, beginning to play with his hands. Your eyes were trained on the shapes that you drew on his palms, but you hummed from time to time as words tumbled out of his mouth.

You had to be doing this on purpose.

It was weird, because Sunghoon never felt this way around you. What he felt toward you was quiet, something that was a basic fact to him. But now, all he could do was watch as you fed Riki airplane-style, making funny airplane engine noises as your baby laughed, trying to calm the beating of his heart.

Why did you have so be so attractive? Why was he feeling so warm?

It was a peaceful dinner, save for the war beginning to bubble inside of Sunghoon.

That was, until a loud crash rang through the restaurant. Then, there were whispers, car sirens, and at last, shrieking. The jazz music stopped as a hush fell over the restaurant.

Your first instinct was to take Riki out of his high-chair and into your arms, so you did that.

But the moment that you brought your eyes up to where Sunghoon should have been, he was gone.

Like, absolutely gone.

His seat was empty. His plate of food, as fell as his folded cloth napkin and silver cutlery, were left exactly as you last remembered. Sunghoon simply disappeared all of a sudden.

But before you could even say his name, another crash rang through the restaurant as someone screeched, "Giganto!"

Giganto was a self-proclaimed supervillain on the rise. The last time that you heard about him was a few months ago, when he tried to pull off some stupid scheme to take down Spider-Man. It was a pathetic attempt. But now he was back, with admittedly impressive equipment and a nasty spandex suit.

Based on your understanding of the layout of the restaurant, it seems like the front portion of it was crashed into. Which meant that the front entrance was 100% not an option.

And that became even more apparent to you when Giganto, in his pink spandex glory, began cackling villainously, announcing his arrival. What he said in his very unnecessary villain monologue was unknown to you, because you were too distracted by Riki, who was beginning to tear up in fear.

"Shh, shh," you held your son against your shoulder, your hand coming up to cup his ear. You pressed kisses on his face, petting his hair in an attempt to calm him down. "Baby, Baby it's okay. We're okay. Don't cry, Mama's here—"

"Run!" someone shrieked as another contraption began prowling into the restaurant. It was massive and made of some metal, some sort of machine that Giganto probably made to assert his dominance. It didn't matter to you. What did matter was the two people that you cared about: Riki, and.... hey, where's Sunghoon?

Your feet were just about to start moving when your eyes glazed over Sunghoon's still-empty seat. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Sunghoon?" you said to yourself, your eyes wide as they flickered around the slowly-crumbling restaurant for any familiar sign of your best friend. "Sunghoon!"

"Hoo!" Riki cried out.

You couldn't find him, amidst all the dust and hoards of people running past you.

You felt Riki's tears wet your shoulder.

You had to get out of here, if you wanted to save yourself and Riki.

But Sunghoon...

If you did not start running now, you would die. Riki would die.

I'm sorry, Sunghoon, you squeezed your eyes shut, before your feet picked up. You ran, you ran as fast as you could, trying your best to ignore your motherly instinct to stop and kiss Riki as he wailed. You didn't even realize it until your face was wet that you, too, were crying.

It could be fear, it could be uncertainty, it could be because your own son was sobbing. Or maybe it was guilt. Guilt because you could have waited for Sunghoon, but didn't.

Guilt, because you made it out of the crumbling restaurant, but Sunghoon did not.

Guilt, because you left your best friend to die.

You didn't know how long you ran, but you ran far enough that you could no longer hear the helicopters and screaming, only your and Riki's sniffles.

"Shhh," you shakily consoled Riki, rubbing circles on his back, doing your best to ignore the weight on your chest. "It's okay, Baby. We're okay."

But you knew you weren't. Not after what happened back there.

How could you abandon him back there, when he's done everything for you? How could you do him like that, as if he wasn't the sole reason that you weren't dead in a ditch right now? You were a horrible friend, and an even worse person for letting that happen.

All of a sudden, you were lifted off your feet. Literally. One moment you were walking under a streetlight, the next you were in the air.

"S-Spider-Man?!"

With one hand wrapped tightly around Riki, your other hand came up to grip the hero's bicep. Your stomach did flips as you looked down, seeing the city beneath you.

"Hey there," his voice was solemn.

"Where the—" you squeezed your eyes shut as you peered down— "Where the hell are you taking us?"

You felt Spider-Man tense under your touch, almost like he was wincing.

"I-I'm taking you home."

Your eyes narrowed.

Was it normal for a superhero to be stuttering as they save a civilian?

"And you're taking me home because you know where I live? How?" You felt bad for being so cold, for being so incredibly frigid toward him, but you couldn't let your guard down. Not when you were 100 meters in the air holding your son. Not when you already lost Sunghoon back there.

"I don't," Spider-Man quipped quickly. It was now that you noticed the cut on his shoulder, with dark red blood seeping out and exposing his skin. "Will you show me the way?"

You glanced down at Riki, who was now beginning to fall asleep. He was unlike you in the way that he liked thrill, even when he was just a little baby

You couldn’t say that you were happy with who Spider-Man was, but you were not going to reject the help he was giving you right now. Not when your son was on the line.

You huffed. “Make a turn right here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spider-Man muttered.

You did not know why, but it seemed like the sound of the hero’s voice made Riki stir.

“Hoo,” Riki babbled sleepily. “Hoo…”

Sunghoon.

Again, you felt Spider-Man tense.

“My friend…” you began, swallowing your pride. “His name is Sunghoon. I-I couldn’t find him back there.”

Spider-Man hummed.

“Can you… I mean— Do you think you can look for him? I’m really worried.

Spider-Man gazed at you, looking at you with his masked face. For some reason, you thought that he was grinning behind the mask, and you almost began shouting at him. But the hero only nodded, saying, “I promise you that he’s safe, Ma’am.”

You looked at him pensively, doubt painted across your expression as you chewed on your lip.

“But if it makes you feel better I’ll look for him.”

You nodded slowly, still doubtful.

The rest of the trip to your apartment is quiet.

Sunghoon 100% expected you to start yelling at him the moment he appeared in your apartment doorway. And he 100% was going to smile through all thirty minutes of it.

“You’re so fucking stupid, why did you disappear like that?! Do you know how much that scared me?! I thought I lost you and you died, Oh my God you’re so fucking annoying, I was losing my mind—“

Sunghoon was laughing at you as you lightly punched his arms, his sharp canine teeth peeking through, when he noticed the glassy sheen over your eyes.

You had tears in your eyes, hot tears that you were blinking back as worried words spilled from your lips. Immediately, Sunghoon stopped his laughing, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

He was happy that you cared about him so much, unable to hide the way his lips still pulled upwards as you pressed your face into his chest.

It was late at night by now. Riki was already sound asleep. There was something about the way you sobbed in his arms that warmed his heart, that someone as strong as you would allow him the privilege of seeing you tremble.

"I didn't know you cared so much, [Name]," Sunghoon teased. He expected you to hit him again, tell him to shut up, and maybe bite back a laugh, but all you did was shake your head.

"No," you murmured against his shirt. "I failed you."

"What're you talking about?" Sunghoon squeezed your shoulder. "You didn't fail anyone."

"No..." you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging onto Sunghoon even harder. You stayed like that for a little bit, simply holding the man in your arms like he'd disappear. Then, you pulled away, letting your gaze meet his. "I... I ran away when I should have waited for you."

Sunghoon only stared at you confused.

You licked your lips, your expression pinching. "I-I got scared so I ran, I ran so far away a-and—" you let out a heavy breath, pushing your face into your hands— "I-I'm such a shitty friend, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon blinked.

Oh!

Sunghoon remembered now, the way he disappeared from the face of earth the moment that disaster struck. One moment he was trying to breathe when you looked at him, the next he was in a tight spandex suit.

Of course you had to 'abandon' him. Sunghoon was Spider-Man! There was no way that you would be able to stay back to wait for him.

It should be easy to explain to you, that you could not have possibly been at fault, because the situation was already imbalanced to begin with.

But there was just one little problem!

How was Sunghoon going to explain this to you without revealing that he's Spider-Man?

Sunghoon pulled his lip between his teeth, unable to hide the awkward-panicked expression painting itself on his features as you cried into his shoulder.

Curse you for being such a caring person, he sucked in a sharp breath.

He didn't like seeing you cry, so he needed to dig himself out of this one soon.

What the hell was he supposed to say now?

"D-Don't cry," Sunghoon's lips moved on their own. "It's not your fault."

"It is though!" you cried.

"No..." Sunghoon let his panic mode take over. Quick, he needed to make something up. "I-I... It was my fault. I.. uhh..."

The man's eyes darted over to the kitchen, where in the rack lay plates, bowls, and Riki's baby utensils.

Ah, Riki.

It was a small inside joke between Sunghoon and you that Riki was always gassy. After all, he was a baby.

"I needed to use the bathroom really badly," Sunghoon swallowed all his pride. "A-And I was there the entire time... because it was really bad."

You pulled away from him, taking a look at his face. If it wasn't for the awkward topic at hand, you'd call out how uncomfortable he looked. Your brows furrowed, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Sunghoon blinked a few times. "There was no way that you could have waited for me... I was in the bathroom the entire time..."

"Doing what?"

"You know..." Sunghoon felt his face warm up. "Doin' my business..."

"Oh."

Sunghoon wanted the floor to open up below him and eat him whole, because within seconds, your distressed, pained crying face melted into a massive smile. You threw your head back, your eyes crinkling into thin crescents, sweet laughs mixed with sniffles spilling out of your lips.

Sunghoon stood there, ears and cheeks pink, with his dignity shattered in his hands. He wanted to die, yes, but it made him feel better than you were no longer crying, just laughing. He couldn't help but feel a grin grow on his face.

"I'm sorry, Sunghoon," you squeezed his shoulders, wiping your eyes-- tears not from crying earlier but from laughing so hard. The way you brought your hand up to ruffle his hair, a reassuring smile on your face, made Sunghoon feel like a child, only furthering his embarrassment. "I didn't mean to laugh."

Sunghoon's lips pulled downward, forming an unintentional pout.

"Awww," you patted his head even more, "I appreciate your honesty. It takes a lot of courage to admit that."

It was definitely hard to stay embarrassed when you were so gentle about it, reassuring him every other sentence that you weren't judging him.

Sure, Sunghoon just embarrassed himself in front of you, but it was better than having to see you cry over something that you had no agency over to begin with.

Anything for you.

"Papa!"

"R-Riki, I'm not your-"

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now!

It was another afternoon of looking after Riki.

Riki just got back from daycare, and took a long and cozy nap. Sunghoon shook him awake an hour later. However, instead of Riki's wide owlish eyes blinking a few times before recognizing Sunghoon's face, exclaiming "Hoo!" as he always did, Riki seemed to learn a new word.

"Papa!"

Papa.

Riki knew the word mama. Of course he did, he knew you.

However, from the beginning, Riki never knew his own legal father, Taehyun. Sure, Taehyun dropped by ever-so-often, but he was no more than a stranger to Riki than a random person on the street.

Riki never says papa.

But now he just called Sunghoon papa.

Sunghoon had been spending the past 10 minutes trying to get Riki to call him Hoo again, but it seemed like nothing would work.

Sunghoon held both of Riki's tiny hands.

"I'm Hoo," Sunghoon said slowly. "Say it to me, Riki. Say Hoo."

"H.... H..." Riki began.

"That's right, you're almost there."

"H...H..." Riki's expression pinched. "Papa!"

"No!"

Truth be told, Sunghoon wanted to cry.

Riki calling him Papa and basically recognizing him as his father figure? The thought of it made Sunghoon tear up already.

He always tried his best to be there for you and Riki. To say that you and Riki were the joys of his life would be an understatement; Sunghoon did everything, even undertaking sketchy hero jobs, for the sake of you two. It wasn't like he expected anything in exchange. In fact, Sunghoon didn't even expect to be considered part of the family.

"Papa!"

"Riki..." Sunghoon's chest tightened at the little proud smile painted across Riki's face. "Riki, I'm not your—"

Ding dong! the doorbell rang.

Leaving Riki on the couch, Sunghoon opened the door without a thought.

Big mistake.

Because the person standing loud and proud at the door was the worst person that Sunghoon could think of.

"T-Taehyun?"

Taehyun Kang, the legal father of Riki, and also your slightly-obsessed ex-boyfriend.

Sunghoon gave Taehyun a once-over. Taehyun was dressed in a crisp dress-shirt, almost as if he was dressed up for a date. He held a bouquet of flowers, his hair slicked back neatly.

The moment that Taehyun's eyes fell upon Sunghoon, his eyes narrowed, something that wasn't surprising. You and Taehyun dated for a few years, and during those years you were friends with Sunghoon, too. Taehyun was always malicious towards Sunghoon, something that both you and Sunghoon never understood.

Sunghoon was in love with you, yes, and that love extended to respecting you and your relationships. He never did anything in all the years that you were with Taehyun.

"What are you doing here?" Taehyun spat.

"I'm—"

Taehyun pushed past Sunghoon, stepping through the doorway. "Whatever, where's [Name]?"

"She's—"

"Papa!"

Shit.

Taehyun perked up at the sound of Riki's voice, rushing to the living room and throwing the bouquet aside. Taehyun scooped Riki up into his arms as he coddled him dramatically, exclaiming, "Why didn't you tell me he learned that word?"

Sunghoon's heart sank. Was it bad that he felt a twinge of jealousy? Maybe Riki said papa and thought of Taehyun and not him. After all, Taehyun was supposed to be his father, not Sunghoon. But still. Did Taehyun spend nearly every waking minute with Riki? Did Taehyun put in any effort to spend time with Riki, other than a visit every three months? Has Taehyun ever even changed Riki's diapers? Brush his teeth? Make him breakfast?

Sunghoon felt his blood boil as Taehyun pranced around your apartment— the apartment that he had no right to claim— with Riki in his arms, saying that he was anything close to being Riki's papa.

"Tae!" Sunghoon could hear Riki exclaim from the other room.

"No, Riki," Taehyun said. "You said it earlier. I'm papa."

"Tae!"

"Say Papa, Riki."

"P... P.... Tae!"

Taehyun barged back into the living room, where Sunghoon sat patiently. The moment that Riki saw Sunghoon's face, he cried, "Papa!"

"He just said it again!" Taehyun was bright, but his face fell the moment that he saw Riki's grabby hands at Sunghoon, coupled with the way that Riki squirmed in his hold. Taehyun whipped his head around. He pointed an accusatory finger at Sunghoon. "You!"

"Papa!" Riki said, this time smiling brightly at Sunghoon, something that he hadn't done once at Taehyun.

Sunghoon couldn't help but bask in the sick satisfaction he felt, but he hid it under a scowl. "What?"

"You're stealing my family," Taehyun claimed, his expression painted with anger.

"I'm not," Sunghoon said calmly.

"You think I'm stupid?" Taehyun pressed, placing Riki down. "I know that you've been in love with [Name] since the beginning, and just because me and her are on a break, you think that you can just swoop in and play Prince Charming."

"I—"

"No, I know!" Taehyun raised his voice. Riki hated it when people raised their voice, silently cowering into himself. Taehyun would have known that if he put any ounce of effort into Riki. "I don't know what you did to Riki, to make him think that you're his father, but it's fucked up. You're fucked up. You will never be a part of this family."

Sunghoon stayed silent for a few moments. The air was tense, so silent that the only audible sound was the sound of Riki's breath.

Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath.

"What's Riki's favorite color?" was all he said.

"W-What?"

"I asked," Sunghoon looked at Taehyun boredly. "What's Riki's favorite color?"

Taehyun's eyebrows crashed together. "Why does that matter?"

"You're his dad, aren't you?" Sunghoon said simply. "You should know."

Taehyun's expression stayed scrunched together, but no words fell from his lips.

That's right, he doesn't fucking know.

"It's black." Sunghoon got up to where Riki was, scooping him up into his arms, to which Riki giggled and exclaimed Papa! quietly. "Did you know that Riki needs to hold a stuffed toy to sleep? Did you know that his favorite one is a stuffed dog named Bisco? Did you know that Riki's favorite song is Beat It by Michael Jackson?"

Sunghoon stroked Riki's hair, relishing in the way Taehyun dug his nails into his palms, his ears burning red. "Taehyun, what's Riki's dominant hand?"

Taehyun gulped. "Isn't he right-handed?"

"Nope," Sunghoon couldn't hide the satisfied grin on his face. "He's left-handed. In fact, he is allergic to the chrysanthemums that you brought over there."

The room went silent for a few more pulses.

"I might not be Riki's father, but you aren't either," Sunghoon said calmly, strolling over to the front door. "Please get out."

Taehyun never left quicker (and he took the flowers, too).

The apartment was quiet again.

Sunghoon didn't know how to feel.

He would be lying if he said that Taehyun's words didn't get to him.

But Sunghoon also felt anger and satisfaction. Taehyun had no right to call himself a part of your family. He made you suffer, both in the past and now. He was a shitty co-parent and an even shittier dad to Riki. Sunghoon hoped that Taehyun understood his place now.

"Papa..." Riki murmured as he crawled toward Sunghoon, nuzzling his cheek into Sunghoon's hand that came up to cup his face.

"That's right," Sunghoon whispered. "Papa's here."

The day went on as normal after that fiasco.

At least, that's what Sunghoon thought.

Because after putting Riki to bed, you led Sunghoon into your bedroom.You locked the door, making Sunghoon gulp.

The serious expression on your face, and the way that you crossed your arms over your chest, freaked him out.

"Sit down." And he did so immediately, sitting his ass down on the bed the moment those words left your lips.

Sunghoon felt like he was a child about to be scolded. He chewed on his bottom lip, wringing his fingers as he carefully watched your standing figure.

"I got a call from Taehyun earlier," you said, your back turned to him.

Shit.

"Said that you were being disrespectful and brainwashing Riki." Sunghoon gulped as you glanced over your shoulder, your eyebrow cocked. "Care to explain?"

"I... I..." Sunghoon's mouth felt dry as he scrambled to gather words. "R-Riki started calling me p... papa, and Taehyun thought that I was brainwashing Riki into thinking that I was his dad, or something..."

You clicked your tongue, about to say something, but Sunghoon continued.

"I just— I just told him that he should be around more if he wanted... if he wanted Riki to call him papa," he added quickly, a grimace falling upon his expression, wincing with the way you took a deep breath.

Did Sunghoon overstep boundaries? It wasn't like you loved Taehyun— in fact you've been done with him for a while now— but it was an irrefutable fact that Taehyun was there before Sunghoon. Was Sunghoon wrong in thinking that he was even a part of your family? Was he getting ahead of himself? What if both you and Riki saw Taehyun as Riki's father figure and not him?

"Hey," Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when you put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. I'm not mad at you."

"Y-You aren't?"

You scoffed. "Of course not."

You rubbed your temples. "I'm more mad at Taehyun for barging in and causing a ruckus. Did he say anything else?"

"He said..." Sunghoon bit down on his bottom lip. Should he tell you this? "Never mind."

Your brows furrowed, pressing further. "What did he say?"

You sat down beside Sunghoon on the bed, noticing the way a deep frown painted itself on his features. You took his hand into yours, squeezing it. "I'm on your side, Sunghoon. I won't be mad."

Sunghoon licked his lips. "Just that... I will never be a part of your family."

He continued before you could respond. "I don't think I am... It just bothered me a little bit."

Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.

"You don't think that you're a part of this family?" you asked, your voice quiet. Sunghoon could hear the hurt in your voice.

"I..." You aren't going to bite, you never do. "I'd like to be... but it's not my place to say whether or not I am."

You clicked your tongue, anger rising in your tone. "And it's Taehyun's place to?"

"W-Well—"

"When has he ever done anything for this family?" your voice was filled with indignation, but your hands stayed gentle in his hair. "Taehyun will never be even half the man that you are, Sunghoon. He'll never do any of the things that you do, and that's because he's dead to this family."

You patted Sunghoon's cheek, making him look up at you. Your gaze softened, your lips curving up as you gazed at Sunghoon's wide, dark eyes. They were shiny, almost glossy, as if he was tearing up. "And I think Riki calling you papa is a testament to how much you mean to me and him. You're our family, Sunghoon."

The room was silent again. You and Sunghoon stayed like that, gazing at each other for what felt like years.

You felt all types of emotions, the main one being sheer anger. Who did Taehyun think he was? And even more importantly, how dare he take his audacity and hurt Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was your savior, he really was. You had no idea what you would do without him.

Watching as he tried to discreetly wipe the tears in his eyes, you threw your head back, letting a few chuckles fall from your lips.

His earnesty, how willing he was to help, and his sensitive side were all things that you cherished about him; they were all things that made you fall in love with him.

You don't know when it happened, or when you realized that you, in fact, loved your best friend, but it didn't matter that much.

It didn't help that Sunghoon was so painfully obvious. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you weren't stupid. You noticed Sunghoon staring at you for a little longer than he should, the way he got nervous whenever you touched him. It was adorable.

If you had less self-control, you would have grabbed Sunghoon's face and kissed him so hard that he'd see stars. After all, for all the little things you did in the hopes of driving him crazy, his wide eyes staring at you like you were some god drove you crazy.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to loosen up a bit.

After all, Sunghoon had to endure Taehyun and the trouble that he brought. He took it like a champ.

He deserved a kiss, didn't he? For everything that he's done for you, for all the trouble that he's gone through. You figured he deserved a reward.

Slowly, you brushed Sunghoon's bangs away from his face, exposing his forehead. His shiny eyes followed you as you readjusted your position so that you laid beside him.

"[Name]?" his voice was a small whisper. God, you just wanted to eat him up.

You hummed, as you leaned closer to him. Sunghoon watched with fluttering eyes and a beating heart. Your face was inching so close to his that he was sure that you could hear how hard his heart was beating.

Was it just him, or was it getting hot in here?

Sunghoon's stomach did a flip at the way you gazed at him with lidded eyes, your beautiful lips parted. Oh, if the sky didn't part open and swallow him whole right now. You were so close, so close that he could feel your breath on his cheek.

If you didn't pull away now, Sunghoon thought that his fingers, which were now getting sticky with webs that came out when he couldn't control his nerves, would shoot actual webs.

"Sunghoon," you finally said, your hand coming up to gently guide his face, making him look straight at you. He faltered under your gaze.

"Y-Yes?"

There, you did it again— that thing where you glanced down at his lips for a few moments, before flickering back up to his eyes with a slight, smug grin. You were driving him crazy.

"Can I kis—"

Knock knock!

"Mama! Papa!"

Both you and Sunghoon immediately pulled away from each other, sitting up. You rushed to your bedroom door, opening it to find a tearful Riki (with Bisco his stuffed dog) in hand. You were quick to scoop him up, though you noticed the awkward expression on Sunghoon's face.

"What?"

How could you act like nothing happened?

"I-I—" Sunghoon stammered, his face bright red and his hair disheveled. He couldn't hide his disappointment now that you weren't close to him anymore.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Calm down, you dork."

With that, you left the room to go comfort your son, leaving Sunghoon alone, his mind fried and his cheeks pink.

Except, you came back within a few moments, this time without Riki.

With one hand, you grabbed Sunghoon's shoulder. With the other, you took his face, taking the poor man by surprise. Gently, you pressed your lips onto the corner of his lips, placing down a soft, chaste kiss.

It was a short, innocent kiss, one that barely lasted a second.

But Sunghoon froze, his mind filled with nothing but you, you, you.

"Happy now?" you rasped against the shell of his ear before pulling away. You chuckled at the way Sunghoon watched you with eyes as big as saucers, his entire face and neck now red, so warm that you could feel it radiating off of him.

That was scary about you, how you could read him so easily. You had him in the palms of your hands, ready to eat him up and play with him like he was putty.

You got up to leave, but when you got to the doorway, you stopped. You turned over your shoulder, a sly grin spread across your face.

"By the way, Sunghoon," you purred. "You should probably come quick. Riki just had a nightmare. Think he needs both mama and papa."

Shit, you were going to kill him.

"Papa!"

No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now.

Why did Sunghoon agree to this?!

A few days ago, DK told Sunghoon about an absolutely appalling opportunity: a Spider-Man meet-and-greet.

Sunghoon didn't know what sick person had this idea, but he reluctantly agreed.

And that's how he found himself on a Saturday afternoon sitting at a Spider-Man fan convention. He could be at home, spending time with you and Riki, but no, he's here taking pictures with little kids.

A few kids already spilt their juice and slushies on him. Mothers shoved their babies in his face, while squealing middle schoolers took the most indiscreet pictures of him. It was hot, and Sunghoon was getting tired of putting on his customer-service voice.

Just as Sunghoon was about to sigh for the nth time that afternoon, he spotted two familiar faces in line.

Yours and Riki's.

You looked annoyed, maybe just as annoyed as Sunghoon was feeling, while Riki had the brightest smile on his face.

When he realized that you and Riki were in line to meet him, Sunghoon tried his best to speed through all the pleasantries and selfies.

And at last, you were up next.

"Hi, Spider-Man," you said quietly through gritted teeth. It was obvious that you were only here because of Riki.

"Hi, ma'am," Sunghoon said as curtly as possible.

Your face scrunched, unable to hide your disdain for Sunghoon as Spider-Man.

"Uh, this is Riki, my son," you said, carefully handing your son over to the hero. You sighed, reluctantly taking out your phone to snap a few pictures. "Riki really loves your work."

"Smile for the picture, Riki!" you said, and that's the only time that you've smiled in the past ten minutes.

And then, the worst words tumbled out of Riki's mouth.

"Papa!"

Um.

What?

Sunghoon should have known. Last time, when he was carrying you and Riki through the sky, Riki recognized him as "Hoo" almost immediately.

And now, it seemed like Riki could still recognize him, this time as papa.

Sunghoon tensed up, and he froze up even more when Riki began to snuggle up against his blue and red - clad chest, giggling, "Papa!"

You looked horrified, your mouth agape and your brows knitted together.

"I-I'm so sorry, Spider-Man," you stammered, taking Riki back into your arms. "I don't know what's gotten into him."

"It's— ahem— fine," Sunghoon quipped. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

Sunghoon found himself frowning the entire time, until he checked his phone.

[name]: spiderman wants to be you so bad

[name]: riki called him papa

[name]: sorry but youre the only papa i know

He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Sunghoon has been acting strange.

You knew it better than anyone else.

It all started after another city-wide crisis. Giganto, the mad supervillain that Spider-Man's been fighting with for months, spread some contaminant in the water supply. This could have been avoided if Spider-Man just left the city, but alas, a few people had to be hospitalized. After that, the city's crime rate ran up the walls.

It wasn't difficult to notice it, the way Sunghoon's face scrunched up like he was deep in thought more often than not, the way he was quick to object you going out to the convenience store after dark, the way that he disappeared for a few hours at a time, suspiciously aligning with news reports, and most noticeably, the way that Sunghoon winced every time that you named Spider-Man.

You weren't stupid. In fact, you couldn't tell if you could just read Sunghoon well, or if he was just horrible at hiding how he felt.

As of now, you had a few suspicions, but all of them centered around one thing: Sunghoon had some affiliation with Spider-Man. He had to have, it was the only thing that made sense.

"I really don't think you should, [Name]," Sunghoon reasoned with you one night, his hands buried in his hair.

"Why not?" Tonight, you wanted to test the waters even more. Sunghoon seemed to get antsy whenever you went out at night alone. "I'm just going to get groceries. We ran out of eggs."

You had your back turned to him as you jammed your feet into your shoes, but you listened closely to the worry in his voice.

"I-I can go get it tomorrow morning," he stumbled over his words.

"What difference does that make?" you pressed. "Eggs that I buy at night are the same as eggs that you buy in the morning."

You reached for the door. "I'll be back in 20, promise."

You didn't know what switch flipped, but it seemed like as the door hinges turned, Sunghoon reached for your hand so fast that you didn't even see him moving. Has he always been that fast?

His grip was firm.

"I'll go with you," Sunghoon said solemnly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Suit yourself."

That was your tactic, pushing Sunghoon's limit until he had no choice but to take action.

He was iffy about you going out at night, so you made sure to do it more often. Each time, he insisted that he went with you. It was funny, because he'd follow you like a guard dog, so willing to fight anyone that even so much as looked in your direction.

"Relax, it's just some kid."

"He looked at you funny."

"He looks like he's nine years old. He is not an assailant."

"But he can be."

You didn’t mind that Sunghoon wanted to go with you. It gave you an excuse to hold his hand, and snuggle up against his side in the cold hair. Sometimes, he’d give you his jacket, and you got to be engulfed in his scent. As long as you got to spend time with him, you figured that you didn't mind.

It was now that you realized just how strong Sunghoon was. He carried bags of groceries like it was nothing, and when you and him kicked pebbles along the sidewalk, he kicked his pebble with such minimal effort, yet it still somehow flung across the street at lightning speed.

But along with sticking with you at night, he texted you a lot more during the day, asking if you were okay. Did he think that you wouldn't notice?

What threw you off even more was when he randomly caught a fly with his bare hands, crushing the poor thing right between his fingertips like it was nothing. Since when did he have such precision?

Sunghoon has been acting strange, and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at his phone screen for what felt like the millionth time this week.

It was noon now, Riki was at daycare and you were at work.

It was no secret that the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. Sunghoon found himself fighting crime after crime, nearly blowing his cover multiple times.

As Sunghoon swung from building to building, he gazed down at the cityscape. It was still early in the day. He could see school children playing ball, laughing as if there wasn't a robbery just down the street. Businessmen in crisp suits pranced around the sidewalks like they owned the place, while public transitters waited around for the bus.

It was still crazy to him, how any one of these people could be the next person that he had to fatefully stop from committing a crime.

The only good things about being Spider-Man, at this rate, was that he could easily watch over you throughout the day and that he could help people. If he got another microphone shoved in his face, Sunghoon might become the criminal.

"Are you serious?!" Sunghoon couldn't help but exclaim as he peered over the ledge.

He was on his daily patrol, checking alleyways and stopping muggers, when he spotted a child, no older than ten, getting robbed.

Seriously? A child?

Sunghoon sighed.

"Oi!" Sunghoon shouted as he swung down, extending his leg so that he could land an easy kick on the assailant's cheek. Maybe Sunghoon put a little too much force, because he swore he heard a cracking noise. As he landed, he made sure to stand in front of the child, shielding him from the assailant.

"Hey man," Sunghoon said smoothly, yet even through his masked face his contempt was apparent. "You realize this kid is like seven, right? Stop trying to rob children."

The assailant groaned in pain, still keeled over on the ground, so Sunghoon took that moment to usher the child away, leaving the two in the alleyway.

The assailant was holding his nose, and that was when Sunghoon realized that he was bleeding.

He looked up at Sunghoon angrily, stumbling to his feet. "You broke my nose!"

Sunghoon shrugged. "You attack children. What about it?"

The assailant growled angrily, fumbling with the knife in his pocket as he charged toward Sunghoon.

Sunghoon sighed, rolling his eyes.

With the amount of media coverage Spider-Man got, he would expect people to understand by now that attacking him head-on was just impossible. Every single headline boasted about Spider-Man's super-human abilities, yet here people were, acting dumb as fuck.

Almost like Sunghoon could see movement in slow-motion, mere milliseconds before his assailant collided with him, he shot a web at the wall, flinging himself up to the wall.

"C'mon man," Sunghoon taunted. "You're faster than that."

Before the man could respond, Sunghoon swung down and kicked him in the abdomen. He tried to get back up and land a stab at Sunghoon, but alas, he was too slow.

"I'm serious," Sunghoon chuckled, but behind his mask he was completely blank-faced, nearly bored. "You need to be a little faster if you wanna catch up to me."

With one more kick to the stomach, the man was down for good. Sunghoon dialed the police, and with that, he left.

Because he had witnessed a child get mugged earlier, Sunghoon's first instinct was to check up on Riki's daycare.

Sure, Riki was basically a baby, but the thought of a child being attacked made Sunghoon a little worried for him.

In fact, the thought of Riki being in danger made Sunghoon worried about you. Should he go check up on your office too?

Sunghoon's sure that you've noticed by now, how increasingly nervous he got about your safety. At first, he tried to conceal it better, but it got harder as crime increased.

If Sunghoon had superhuman levels of hearing, his ability to identify your voice from miles away must have been god tier.

Sunghoon clung to the walls of your office building, pressing his chest against the hard brick in order to not be as obvious. Stealthily crawling against the wall, Sunghoon finally found the window right where your office was.

Peering inside, Sunghoon could see that you were talking with one of your colleagues. You were smiling, laughing from time to time. It must have been a friendly conversation.

Sunghoon pressed his ear against the wall, letting his enhanced hearing do the work for him.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?" your colleague asked, leaning on your desk.

You hummed, typing away and half-listening. "I'm spending time with my family."

Your colleague smiled. "You and Riki?"

You shook your head absent-mindedly. "Me, Riki, and Hoon."

Sunghoon cracked a grin.

"Oh? Who's Hoon?"

Your eyes flickered away from your computer screen. "Sunghoon? He's my...." you trailed off. What was Sunghoon to you?

"Your?" Your colleague looked at you expectantly, but when you bashfully smiled, she gasped. "Don’t tell me…”

"W-Well, I mean— He's a good friend—"

"Tsk, tsk, if he really was a good friend you wouldn't struggle so much to say that." Your colleague sat down. "Do you like him or something?"

"Of course I do. He's a good friend—"

"That's not what I meant."

You huffed.

Sunghoon held his breath

"I think I... love him?" you said it like a question, but you didn't look uncertain. The rest of your conversation was pretty plain, just exchanging pleasantries and chuckles about family life.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was completely zoned out. A gunshot could fire right beside him and even then he wouldn't be fully conscious and in his body.

You?

Loved him?

Ohmygodyousaidthatyoulovedhim.

It was getting bad, how much those words affected him. Each time Sunghoon forced himself to recover mentally, your words would replay again in his head, making him squeeze his eyes shut and feel the heat rush back to his face. Sunghoon felt light-headed. If it weren't for the stickiness of his spiderwebs, Sunghoon would have fallen off the building by now.

Was he dreaming?

Sunghoon bit down on his lip to stop the dumb, dopey grin threatening to spill across his face, but alas, a simple glance at you through the window again had his heart jumping.

He felt like a high schooler, getting all giddy again as if no one has ever loved him before.

Well, it was true though. No one has ever loved him before, not in the way that you've loved him.

Maybe Sunghoon was right for being so protective of you over the past few weeks.

You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at this point, rather just amazed beyond words at the goddamn audacity of these people.

"I don't have money," you said simply, rolling your eyes.

"Are you sure about that, lady?"

You huffed. "Yes, I'm a single mother. You think I'm rich?— Ow, okay sorry."

You were just minding your own business, walking to the subway and thinking about how much you hated your boss, when you were pulled into an alleyway. You were lucky (if this could be considered lucky at all) that you were just getting mugged, who knows what else could have happened?

It was a group of three men, two holding you back and the other trying to extort you of your money. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have any cash on you.

The cold brick wall pressed harshly into your back, hard enough that you nearly winced in pain, but you made sure to show no signs of discomfort or struggle. That would make you seem weak, and if you wanted any chance of getting out unscathed, you should probably avoid showing any vulnerability.

"I can PayPal you," you said simply, your gaze bored.

"We want cash, lady."

You huffed. "I already said, I don't have cash on me. Do you have ApplePay?"

The men groaned.

You had a simple plan: continue to play dumb and keep suggesting alternative payment options to distract them, and when the time came, you'd land a kick to the crotch and make a run for it. A lot of people liked to pool at the convenience stores and bakeries nearby, so it shouldn't be difficult to catch their attention.

"What about Venmo?" you asked, your tone purposefully squeaky and annoying. "Or Zelle? I have a lot of money on Zelle."

You blinked at them, feigning some semblance of naivety, watching in near-satisfaction at the way their faces distorted incredulously.

And just as the three men shot each other looks, trying to reconvene, you realized that maybe your bit off more than you could chew.

Maybe acting stupid wasn't the best idea, especially in the face of three people filled with the intent to rob you.

Slap!

Because the next thing you knew, your cheek was hot and prickling with pain, your eyes burning with tears from the sheer impact of that palm against your face.

Your jaw went slack in pure shock. Did they just—

Slap!

"Shut up, you bitch!"

Woah.

You opened your mouth to let out another witty response (which was probably already a bad idea to start with), but you're cut off when you're suddenly pushed all the way up against the hard brick wall. Your cheek was pressed against it; it was rough and cold.

Grubby hands patted you down, searching for any spare cash left in your pockets. You cringed as they searched through your long-discarded purse for the third time, only to find chapstick, lip gloss, and a bunch of cards.

"Come on, woman, you need to have some money on you!" you heard one of them mutter, the rancid smell of cigarettes filling your nose.

"I already said," you huffed, letting out a small yelp of pain as they shoved you against the wall again, your lip scraping against the rough brick. You tasted blood. "I don't have cash on me—"

They shoved you even harder this time, holding you by your head. Your entire cheek was pressed up against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as pain shot through your head. Maybe you shouldn't have talked so much smack, because now you were feeling light-headed from the sheer impact.

You couldn't see what happened in the next few moments, but you were suddenly lifted in the air by strong arms, strong arms that almost felt familiar. You heard some yelling and shouting, and a few more sudden groans of pain.

It took you a few moments to realize that it was a certain blue and red superhero scooping you up, and it took you even longer to realize that it was this same hero that had gently placed you up on the ledge, before going back down to the alley to wreak havoc on those men.

It was horrific, the way that Spider-Man raised his fists, crashing them down on these men so hard that you could see the dark red blood stains seeping onto his spandex costume. The painful cries, the sound of Spider-Man's fists making contact with their bodies, it was all a terrible sound.

You watched silently, slack-jawed.

Spider-Man always had a more action-packed fighting style, utilizing his webs and arsenal of abilities and gadgets to make a spectacle of his fights (whether intentional or not).

Yet, here he was, using nothing but his bare hands to beat these men to a pulp.

It made your head hurt, everything. Even from the ledge high up, you could smell the must, blood, and sweat. It made you feel sick.

You could feel yourself lose all energy, deflating. You just wanted to go home, and feel your son and Sunghoon's warmth.

Riki, you thought as you watched in horror.

"Hoon," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself to the point that you didn't even realize that you said it.

Then, everything stopped, and suddenly you were up in the air again.

You mustered all the strength you had left in yourself to become aware of your surroundings. "Spider—"

"Don't talk."

So you didn't.

As you felt your mind cloud up, you could only think of a few things.

First, that your entire body had a subtle ache.

And second, that Spider-Man's voice sounded really familiar.

“Where were you? Why do you have a cut on your lip? Why were you out so late?” were the first words spilling out of Sunghoon’s mouth the moment you appeared in the doorway. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why would you stay out when it’s dark—?”

You appreciated the concern, but you simply did not have it in you talk to him. You were exhausted, and even more mentally drained. You walk past him, ignoring Sunghoon's bombarding questions, completely oblivious to the way he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, rubbing his bruised knuckles as his brows crashed together.

"Why aren't you answering me?" Sunghoon clutched your shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. You missed the ring of red around his eyes, too focused on your own bloody lips to see the even larger gash slowly healing on Sunghoon's cheek. His breath was heavy, almost like he'd been running around like crazy.

You let out an exasperated sigh, your tired eyes fluttering over to him. The events that transpired earlier were not a big deal to you, but it sure did suck the energy out of you.

Sunghoon cupped your cheek, taking your face into his hands. He studied your expression, brushing his finger against your cut lip. When you hissed at the sensation, Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath, before his face pinched.

"This is why I told you not go out after dark—"

"Not right now, Sunghoon," you grumbled, pulling away from him. You let out another sigh. "I don't feel like having this conversation right now."

He reached out for you, but you turned on your heel, heading towards Riki's room.

"How's Riki?"

Sunghoon stared at you, before swiping his tongue over his lips. "I-I'm serious, [Name]. We can't keep having this conversation."

"Not right now," you repeated yourself, not even looking at him.

"No!" Sunghoon cried, his outburst making you stop and cock a brow at him. "We need this conversation now. Y-You— It's not safe anymore."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Just, don't go out anymore," he stumbled over his words, yet his face was solemn. "Please, just come home early. And if—And if you want to go out, I'll go with you."

Maybe it was because you were already having a bad day, or maybe you were just tired, but you felt anger begin to bubble inside of you.

These past few weeks, Sunghoon had been protective of you. It was endearing sometimes, but now it was getting ridiculous. You were capable of handling yourself, and if you weren't, that was your own responsibility to take care of, not his. You appreciated the concern, but not his visceral disapproval of any time you even decided to step outside.

"Sunghoon," you said calmly, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "I'm a grown woman. I can go outside by myself."

"No," he shook his head vehemently, taking your hands into his. "You don't get it. You don't know what's out there. It's not safe for you."

You tried your best. You really tried your hardest to swallow all the hot anger threatening to tumble out of your lips. You dug your nails into your palms, taking slow breaths as Sunghoon gave you a lengthy lecture about why you weren't prepared for the 'outside world' anymore.

It was difficult. You couldn't be angry that he cared about you, that he was so worried for your wellbeing. But as more words about how you couldn't possibly handle yourself outside were bleeding into your ears like shrill pots and pans to the point that it was unbearable to listen to.

"Am I weak to you, Sunghoon?" you finally interrupted him amidst his tangent.

"What? No, I—"

"Then why do you keep acting like I am?" No, you shouldn't be raising your voice at him like this, not when all he was doing was showing you how much he cared about you. Each word was calm, but you felt the venom seeping in with each syllable. "I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of how you act like I'm incapable of defending myself."

"But—"

"I don't want to hear it anymore," you grumbled, rubbing your temples and turning your back to him. "Please. I just want quiet right now."

The two of you stood in silence like that for a few pulses, the air tense— the most tense that the two of you have ever been.

The silence was broken when Sunghoon took in a deep breath, cracking the front door open, before stepping outside and quietly shutting it.

The entire apartment was deathly silent. With what remaining energy you had left, you retired to your room. The moment your back hit the mattress, your heavy eyelids shut.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon took a stroll along the apartment complex. The cool air kissed his cheek, running through his hair.

Was he wrong for worrying about you so much?

Should he have approached things differently?

How was he going to resolve this now?

Maybe Taehyun was right, that he was trying so hard to be a Prince Charming of sorts– your knight in Shining Armor.

It was never Sunghoon's intention to make you feel weak.

He was just scared. When he saw you in that alleyway, his blood ran cold, and all he could think about was protecting you.

The mere thought of you getting even more hurt than you already were frightened Sunghoon.

Sunghoon wasn't sure how long he spent outside, but it was long enough for his skin to feel cold to the touch.

After collecting himself, Sunghoon had a plan to resolve this bump along the road: he'd go inside, apologize, and explain himself clearly. Anxiety gnawed at him from the inside out, but he knew he had to make things right.

But as Sunghoon made his way back to your apartment door, taking in a deep breath before he reached for the door handle and rehearsing what he wanted to tell you in his head, something interrupted his thoughts.

First, it was the sound of glass breaking.

Then, the sound of Riki crying, and at last, your screaming.

And when Sunghoon busted down the front door, he found the entire house empty, save for the shattered glass window of your bedroom.

"Shhh, Baby don't cry," you shakily breathed, holding Riki close to your chest. "It's okay, it's okay— Shhh."

The last thing you expected was to be kidnapped by Spider-Man's number one opponent, the supervillain Giganto.

But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.

It all happened so quickly that you could barely remember how you got here. The hair on your hands was standing up, a chill running down your spine. The entire facility felt empty, only the sound of your breathing and Riki's crying reverberating off the walls, but you knew better. Giganto took you here, so he must be nearby. You didn't even know why he wanted you to begin with, but now you had to deal with the reality of it.

You thought back to Sunghoon.

Wasn't this what he was warning you about? Why did you have to be influenced by your feelings like that? If you just listened to him and acted maturely, this could have been avoided... right?

You couldn't imagine how he felt now. He was just trying to protect you, and you just threw it back into his face. This was the second time that you were shitty to Sunghoon; how could you say that you loved him when all you did was be an asshole to him?

You would wallow in self-pity, but you had Riki to protect now.

Your eyes flickered around the dark and empty facility. Any moment now, Giganto could appear and kill you, or something.

You didn't know much about Giganto, other than that he had the ability to change sizes. That is, he could become very large or very small in an instant.

"Riki, breathe baby," you huffed, hoping that the fast beating of your heart would slow down soon enough for you to think straight. You swallowed the lump in your throat. For the first time ever, you wished that Spider-Man would come and save you from this maniac.

"Well, hello there."

Speak of the devil.

From the shadows emerged a man. He was in a skin-tight suit, with a mask hiding everything but his eyes and mouth, similar to Spider-Man. What made him stand out was the gadget in his hand. It was a gun-like gadget of some sort, glowing bright green.

You narrowed your eyes at him as goosebumps rose on your arms.

"Giganto," you questioned, your voice hoarse from screaming earlier, "Why did you take me here?"

The supervillain grinned, taking his time as he promenaded around the rink. Was he wearing ice-skates? How pompous.

"Is it that hard to figure out?" Giganto mused, his fingers running along the edge of his gadget. "Why don't you take a guess?"

You had no answer. The only thing that made sense was that you were a civilian and a resident of this city. What other connection to Giganto did you have other than that?

You stayed silent, holding Riki even closer to your chest as you realized that Giganto was walking— err, skating?— towards you. Your shoulders tensed, trying to pull your curled up legs to your chest.

"Relax, woman," the villain huffed. That's when you realized that he wasn't just holding that gadget, but various other... cones? They looked like those tiny plastic traffic cones at Riki's daycare. Giganto began to place them adjacent to you. "I'm just setting up for a game."

A game?

Just when you thought that Giganto probably forgot about your earlier question, he skated back to where he was previously.

"So, you have a guess yet?"

You would have said something witty, but you remembered what happened last time you tried to use your words to get out of something.

It was distracting you, the way that Giganto was paying extra attention to the gadget in his hands, brandishing it and shining the thing like it was a jewel.

And it seemed that he noticed this too.

“Oh this?” the villain threw his head back, letting out a laugh, a laugh that you knew too well to be fake because hey, working in an office with shitty coworkers and an even shittier boss made you receptive to it. “It’s just what I call a Size-inator!”

He let out another string of cartoonishly villainous laugh, nearly comical how enunciated it was. It was so ridiculous that Riki stopped crying, sending you a confused look. And when all you did was stare at him like he was a maniac, Giganto stopped laughing.

“Isn’t this impressive?” Giganto threw his hands up in the air. “Gee, you people are never satisfied.”

You nodded slowly. He looked so excited about this Size-inator, almost like he was just waiting for you to ask about it. You wouldn’t mind doing some talking. After all, it could buy you time and information.

“Right…” you nodded slowly. “So this Size-ometer-"

“Size-inator,” he corrected you.

“Yeah, yeah, this Size-er,” you waved him off, “What does it do?”

"Thought you'd never ask!" Giganto threw his hands up into the air theatrically. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, all the lights turned off in the ice rink, only a spotlight shining over the villain. "The Size-inator is a device designed by moi. I can shoot whatever I want— he pointed the gadget to one of the cones he placed down, pulling the trigger. In an instant, the cone shrunk— "And it will change in size!"

"Pretty neat, isn't it?" he looked at you slyly.

You nodded slowly. "So it's a shrink ray, basically."

"Nuh-uh!" Giganto's outburst made you cock a brow at him. "It's a Size-inator!"

"Right."

"So... Where's Spider-Man?" Giganto asked, teetering on his ice-skates like a teenage girl waiting on her crush.

Your face scrunched.

Um.

How were you supposed to know?

"Uh, I don't know?" you said, your tone questioning your own certainty.

Giganto's face morphed into an incredulous one. He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Don't lie to me, woman!"

You shook your head, shrugging vehemently. "I really don't!"

Giganto skated up to you, his ice-skates scraping up against the ice to make a shrill sound. He peered down at you, his eyes suspicious even through the mask.

"So you mean to tell me that you've coming home to the same apartment as Sungjoon Park everyday and you didn't know that he's Spider-Man?" the villain eyed you suspiciously.

Sungjoon Park?

"What are you talking about? I only know a Sunghoon Park—"

At the sound of Sunghoon's name, Riki stirred.

"Papa!" he exclaimed, wriggling in your hold.

"Yeah, yeah, Sunghoon Park, or whatever," Giganto waved off. "You didn't know that he's Spider-Man this entire time?—" he pointed at Riki— "You have a child with him!"

Crash!

Before you could even process things, a massive crash rang throughout the entire facility, followed by the sound of car sirens going off and glass breaking.

"Oh! Gotta goooo!" Giganto sped away, summoning his other little gadgets, presumably to go check up on the commotion outside. "Don't you dare try to escape, woman! I'm always watching!"

And then you were left alone again, in the middle of a cold ice rink.

Tap, tap.

Sunghoon?

Spider-Man?

Tap, tap.

You knew that Giganto was a maniac, but you didn't know that he was that insane.

Tap, tap.

That wouldn't make any sense.

Sunghoon might be associated with him somehow, but your own best friend as the Spider-Man?

No way.

Tap, tap.

And now that Giganto was gone—

Tap, tap.

That tapping sound was going to drive you crazy—!

"Pssst!"

You shot your head around. No one was there.

You looked in the other direction, then all around you. No one was there either.

"Look up here!"

You whipped your head up to the ceiling, where a massive opening had been created from the rubble. And lo and behold, there hung the one and only friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

"C'mon, [Name]," he said, reaching out a hand to you, "Take my hand and we'll escape."

Your eyes widened into saucers, bulging out of your head. You swore that you've heard that voice before, and as you flashed through all of your memories, you could never recall an instance where Spider-Man's voice matched with that of Spider-Man. Instead, all the memories lined up with Sungh—

"Papa!" Riki cried.

That's something that you could never wrap your head around. Riki seemed to call only Sunghoon papa. Yet, he's been calling Spider-Man papa, too.

You kept your eyes trained on the hero's wide, white eyes, your mind running on its own while your mouth moved.

"I-I'm tied up, Spider-Man," you stammered.

A familiar voice, papa, a weird obsession with crime and safety, it all didn't make sense.

Spider-Man dropped down from the ceiling, carefully untying the ropes wrapped around your hands and feet.

"Are you okay?" the hero asked, helping you stand up with wobbly feet. To your surprise, Spider-Man clutched your chin, forcing you to look at him. In his other hand, he held Riki, to which Riki began snuggling up against his chest. And then, worried words streamed from his lips, in a tone that you knew all too well. "Did he do anything to you? Are you hurt? Can you stand?—"

For a split second, you thought you were going crazy.

For a split second, his voice sounded exactly like Sunghoon's: with the same breathiness, the same cadence, and of course, the same exact concern that made your heart melt.

For a split second, you could almost see Sunghoon's thick eyebrows furrowing behind the mask, worry strewn all across his expression.

"Sunghoon?"

Spider-Man froze, going frigid all the while Riki continued to nuzzle his face in his strong chest.

Behind the mask, you could see almost exactly how Sunghoon would bite down on his tongue, his lips parting while his eyes flashed around the room; his nervous tick.

"Sunghoon," you whispered again, this time with a type of desperation that you never knew you had. You could feel your chest pounding, the sound of your heart thrumming against your ribcage filling your ears. "Sunghoon, please."

Please tell me it's you.

Slowly, you reached up to cup Spider-Man's face, and to your surprise, the hero leaned into your touch.

"[Name]," Spider-Man whispered shakily, so low that you could barely hear it.

Hearing it roll off his tongue, that confirmed everything that you needed to know.

Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility.

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

But before you could, another crash rang through the facility.

And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.

"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.

"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.

"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."

Sunghoon shot a web back up at the ceiling where the opening was.

Giganto loaded his shrink ray, and in that moment, you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Yet, instead of feeling yourself shrink into oblivion, you felt your entire body lift up into the air, before being hoisted back to your feet.

"You don't trust me?" Sunghoon grinned into your ear, his hands still wrapped tightly around you.

You opened your eyes slowly. You were on a rooftop.

"Woah..."

With Riki back in your arms, you looked down to see the vast cityscape below your feet. The dark blue night sky was peppered with white splotches of stars and satellites. The lights were beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.

The feeling of Sunghoon's warmth behind you, as well as Riki's little giggles, made you melt.

"W-Where are we?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the view.

"Far," Sunghoon breathed against your ear. Then, he pulled away from you, gently guiding you to a ledge in the inner perimeter of the rooftop. "Far from Giganto."

And as he began to slink away, your eyes widened, reaching out to him instinctively. "Where are you going?"

Sunghoon turned around. He ruffled Riki's hair, then brushed his gloved finger against your cheek.

"I need to go fight Giganto," he said simply.

Before you could protest, Sunghoon clutched your chin, making you look at him.

"Well, you said that Spider-Man was useless," you could hear him grin behind the mask. "This is my one time to impress you. I'll beat him up really good, I promise."

His tone was light-hearted, trying to make you smile, yet you only chewed on your lip, looking on hesitantly.

"I'll be safe," Sunghoon reassured you, leaning in closer to you.

You looked at him with clouded eyes. "Are you sure? What if you get hurt?"

It was funny, how the roles were now reversed: now, it was you worrying about his safety.

"I'm strong," Sunghoon chuckled, flexing his bicep. "The strongest."

You still looked apprehensive, so Sunghoon leaned in even closer, cupping your cheek.

"Don't worry about me," he said lowly, his hands holding you like you were a delicate piece of glass.

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath. You nodded your head, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself, before meeting his eyes.

The two of you stared into each other's eyes like that for a few pulses, getting lost in the comfort of each other, a momentary escape from reality.

And then, letting all of your inhibitions run free, you grabbed Sunghoon's masked face, and pressed a right where his lips were. You pulled away quickly, but this time, you had a determined look on your face.

Sunghoon stood there frozen, suddenly dazed as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, flustered.

"Well?" you grumbled, averting your gaze. "What are you waiting for? Go impress me, Spider-Man."

Sunghoon never turned on his heel and began swinging away any faster.

Sunghoon flushed as he heard you giggling from the other room.

He hated the media, he hated it so much.

But, he had to admit, he was grateful for all the news outlets this one time.

Because truth be told, they caught some pretty badass shots of him kicking Giganto's ass.

Not because Sunghoon personally wanted cool pictures of himself, but because now you and Riki were rewatching clips of the fight in the other room. Riki giggled, exclaiming every other second and clapping his hands cutely, while you cooed not just at his cuteness, but at the way Sunghoon's muscles flexed in each shot.

He had to admit, the camerawork made the fight look a lot more intense than it actually was.

What actually went down was pretty simple.

Giganto made Sunghoon play a game of some sorts, some supervillain version of laser-tag. Sunghoon was going to be in ice-skates, and he was going to have to evade Giganto's Size-inator. The villain chose ice-skating because apparently it was way harder to move around in ice-skates than not. However, he completely forgot two very important facts.

The first one was that Spider-Man was... Well, Spider-Man. Sunghoon's abilities were heightened to the max, so his reflexes and physical capabilities transcended whatever man-made gadget Giganto had.

The second one was that Sunghoon was kickass at ice-skating, all thanks to the many times that he'd gone with you and Riki. There was something about showing off how good he was in front of you, the literal love of his life, that shaped Sunghoon into the absolute pro at ice-skating that he was now.

It's safe to say, Giganto's defeat was pathetic. He was arrested, and his identity was revealed to be some corporate slave trying to reach stardom through criminal activities.

Sunghoon had to force himself to take deep breaths, stifling the stupid grin threatening to spread on his face as he heard you and Riki's giggles.

"Are you guys ready to go?" he poked his head in through the doorway. "Oh wow."

There you were, wearing a pretty dress that hugged your body a little too well. Sunghoon's jaw went slack as his eyes glazed over your figure, gulping audibly as you made your way over to him.

"Hey there, Handsome," you purred, sliding your hands up his chest.

"Hi." No matter how long he's known you, how many times he's seen you in a figure-hugging dress, how many times you've kissed him until he saw stars, Sunghoon felt like putty in your presence.

"I love you in this color," you mused. You were definitely doing it on purpose, running your nails against his arm and getting all touchy.

Sunghoon's mouth felt dry. Was it getting hot it here, or was it just him? "Th-Thank you."

Linking fingers with Sunghoon, you pushed your chest forward and up against his chest.

"You know," you breathed against his neck. You smelled so good, your scent filled Sunghoon's head deliciously. "I've been waiting for tonight all week."

Sunghoon's palms were getting sweaty, goosebumps rising on his skin and the hairs on his neck standing up. "R-Really?"

"Of course," you cooed, before pulling away. You did a little twirl for him, showing off your dress.

"I'm ready," you smiled, your glossy lips moving in a way that made Sunghoon feel light-headed. You looked delicately over your shoulder, bursting out laughing. When Sunghoon peered over your shoulder, he also couldn't help but let chuckles fall from his lips.

"Riki, baby, what are you doing?!"

Riki was dressed up, but poor baby must have been tired, as he was all curled up against the floor, dozing off like nothing else mattered.

Tonight was a family night.

The plan was to go out for dinner as a family, and after, go home and watch a movie. It was a simple plan, but a plan that made Sunghoon all giddy with excitement. Riki wailed a little bit when you two woke him up, but just seeing you and Sunghoon's face made him peaceful in an instant.

Hand-in-hand, you, Sunghoon, and Riki walked off into the night.

And Sunghoon thought, there isn't anything else in the world that he could ask for.

Not when he was able to spend the rest of his life with his little family.

Not when he was head over heels in love with you.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fic #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon imagines #star-sim #vanya-writes

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 month

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Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!

This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^

I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* （￣ｗ￣）Ψ

Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader

Word Count: 6K

TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing

“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd.

The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air.

“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table.

“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way.

The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face.

“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows.

He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric.

“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”

The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared.

“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.”

Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital.

“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage.

The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.

“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.”

“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.”

“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”

The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables.

“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”

He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.

“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.”

“(Y/N).”

“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

You gave him a sharp nod.

“I do.”

He swung a lazy eye at Saber.

“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?”

He gave you a bright smile.

“I do.”

The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you.

“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”

He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest.

“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.

You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face.

“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!”

He chuckled.

“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.”

He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking.

“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.”

He shrugged.

“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?”

You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.

“Maybe I should have let you die.”

Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head.

“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!”

You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket.

“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!”

You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see.

“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you.

“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.

His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck.

“It won’t come off.”

You nodded proudly.

“Exactly.”

He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“What? What does that mean?”

He smiled and shrugged.

“Lead the way, spouse.”

You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things.

“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.

“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.”

He ignored you, looking around.

“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.”

You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms.

“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”

You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin.

“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.”

He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands.

“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.”

Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water.

“What are you doing?”

He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through.

“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”

Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you.

“How long have you been living alone?”

You blushed, embarrassed.

“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.”

“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.”

You gave him an indignant snuff.

“At least I’m not a thief!”

He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings.

“Hey! You stole that!”

He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket.

“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?”

You sucked in a deep annoyed breath.

“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.”

“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner.

What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him.

But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup.

A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might.

Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task.

Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door.

“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task.

“Sit down,” you barked.

A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head.

“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?”

You wrinkled your nose at him.

“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!”

He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump.

“S-sorry,” you muttered.

“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.”

You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line.

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?”

He paused for a moment before he jerked his head.

“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.”

“Why?”

“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”

He sighed.

“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.”

Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly.

“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.”

He swiveled around to look at you, smiling.

“Thanks, doc!”

“I’m not a doctor.”

He shrugged.

“What’s the difference?”

“Ten years of special-”

You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.

“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.”

He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving.

“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked.

“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.”

He frowned.

“No meat?”

You blinked at him.

“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?”

He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly.

When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him.

“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table.

“Why, trying to run off?”

He smirked.

“No, why would I want to run away from you?”

He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued.

“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.”

Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“A couple of miles in any direction.”

“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.”

You shrugged.

“I can’t be right at your side every minute.”

He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen.

“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?”

Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup.

“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction.

You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes.

“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go.

“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on.

“There’s a couch in the living room.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“It’s covered in stuff.”

You shrugged, trying to hurry past him.

“I’ll clean it up.”

You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.”

He patted your butt for emphasis.

“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!”

Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled.

“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!”

“They were going to kill you!”

He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck.

“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin.

“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.

Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas.

When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants.

“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.

He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes.

“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison.

“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas!

Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot.

“Get in,” you said.

Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!”

You let out a long sigh.

“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”

Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him.

“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”

He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

He shrugged, his jaw tightening.

“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.”

A long sigh slipped past his lips.

“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”

Your mouth fell open.

“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”

He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair.

“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.”

“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”

He smirked.

“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.”

He pinched your chin.

“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him.

“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.”

You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you.

The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together.

“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness.

You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before.

Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe.

When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream?

The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not.

Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing.

“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual.

Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something.

Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping?

You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work.

You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled.

Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered.

Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside.

“Morning, spouse!”

Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders.

“What’s that?”

He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders.

“Meat!” he announced proudly.

You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path.

A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.”

You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow.

“Helloooo? Helllloooo?”

A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs. Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.

“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?”

“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier.

Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you.

“Saber! There you are!”

She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes.

“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!”

When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing.

“Not someone. Me.” you interjected.

You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm.

“Saber is my husband. Who are you?”

She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you.

“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?”

Saber’s shocked face tightened.

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.”

She scoffed.

“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.”

Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned.

His brow drew, looking between you and her.

“What child?”

She huffed, frowning at you.

“Fine…If you must do this, this way.”

She turned to the carriage and yelled.

“Nora, bring the baby!”

A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn.

Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands.

“This…he…is mine?”

Melody nodded.

“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.”

He glanced up at her.

“You want to get back together?”

She let out a cruel but trilling laugh.

“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!”

Anger roiled under your skin.

“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded.

She snorted as if that were a foolish question.

“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”

She fluttered her iridescent wings.

“It only need be a fairy child.”

You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls.

“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.”

She glanced at you.

“What do you want? Money?”

You let out a tight chuff.

“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.”

Her eyes jerked to Saber.

“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."

She glared at you.

"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"

Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace.

“Have you named him?” he asked.

She looked contrite but lifted her chin.

“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...”

He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child.

“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.”

“But Saber-”

“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.”

You jerked your chin at her.

“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”

Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels.

“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”

Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama.

“Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.”

He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.

“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?”

You smiled at him.

“Let’s talk it over over lunch.”

The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.

“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.”

He looked down at you.

“You won’t miss this place?”

You sighed.

“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.”

“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.”

You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.

“What? I thought you said you were broke?”

He smiled down at you.

“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.”

He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink.

“I think we can buy a nice place with this.”

You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.

“I thought you lost it gambling?”

He shrugged.

“I lied.”

“Why did you keep it?”

He gave you a long look.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.”

“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?”

“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.

I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.”

He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.

“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.”

His gaze dropped to the baby.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”

He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say.

“What about Arel?” you asked.

“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.”

You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks.

“It is…it means ‘treasure’.”

He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe.

“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek.

Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon.

Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face.

“Is he okay?”

“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.”

Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.

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nsharks · 4 months

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part sixteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"I can't believe I woke up early for this."

You loosen your muscles, turning to dead weight in Ghost's arms, before using the awkward position to slip away.

"No one said you had to be here," Ghost throws over his shoulder before his gaze fleets back to yours. "Good. Again."

Blue groans as you reposition yourself for the basic defense maneuver. You can see why she'd find this boring— Ghost started you off with a move so basic it was almost insulting when he explained it. But you quickly realized his reasoning. Each time you do it, your pulse tampers down less and less while in his arms. He's had to remind you a few times to "Breathe, Twix"— the order so quietly uttered into the shell of your ear that Blue likely didn't even notice. Perhaps you have grown used to taking orders from him, or maybe having Blue close by is helping, because you've been able to ward off the threat of panic so far.

"Fine, I'm out of here," Blue rolls her eyes the second you've finished the move again. "Let me know when you—" she jabs a finger at Ghost, "—decide to make things more interesting." As she leaps off the log she'd been perched upon, she adds: "Oh, and don't get too close, Ghost. She might bite."

"So I've heard."

Heat rises to your cheeks. And then— you're alone with him. You take a swig of water from the canister Blue lent you to ignore the awkward feeling in your chest. "Again?" You wipe your mouth. "Or have I passed your test?"

"Test?" he repeats, the gravel in his voice rolling over the word as his brow lifts in question.

"Well, I haven't... had a repeat of last time, and it's been an hour. I think I've proved that I'm ready for something a little more..."

"More what?"

More interesting.

"Hand-to-hand, I guess. Something harder."

He rubs his jaw, as if to feign consideration. "Right, then. Let's try another one."

The next one he shows you is still simple, except you fail every other time. Basically, he gets behind you and you have to sidestep to avoid the trap of his arms. Somehow, Ghost's movements are light as a feather even though he's built like a rock.

But then you get better at it. The next two days pass in much the same manner until you start to react a bit faster. He teaches you a few more basic tactics. How to wriggle your wrist out of someone's hold. How to avoid being grabbed from the front by rolling to the ground. All defense. After hours spent with him, he doesn't even have to remind you to breathe anymore. Chopping wood in the evenings helps, too. You go to bed exhausted and wake up ready to practice before Ghost even touches your shoulder.

On the third day, he gets you up even earlier. You cram your wool-covered toes into boots, confine your hair in a hasty bun, and follow him to the clearing that has become your makeshift training ground. It takes you a moment to register that some things are different: his boots have been replaced by sneakers, and his jeans by loose, black gym shorts. The exposed skin is strange, making your eyes widen. If Blue were awake, she'd certainly comment.

His calves mirror the strength of the rest of him, and on the left leg, swirling ink catches your eye, reminiscent of the tattoos you discovered when tending to his wound. Skulls and a dagger; perhaps corny, but fitting for him.

"Have you tried it?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Tried what?"

"The bow."

A white cloud forms around your mouth as you nod. "Needed some getting used to, like you said."

Yesterday you had a hard time shooting a chipmunk you wanted for lunch, so you spent the early afternoon firing arrows at oaks until the new bow started to feel like an extension of your limbs again.

"Let me know if I need to adjust the string."

"Will do," you say, almost mumbling.

When you reach the familiar circle of trees, you bounce once on your toes and crack your knuckles. Ghost retrieves something from his pocket. A roll of gauze. It is tossed at you without warning, and your hands fumble to grab it.

"Wrap up," he commands. "Your hands will thank you for it."

You look up at him, brows raised, but begin covering your palms and knuckles. When you're done, you throw the roll back to him. Ghost stretches his arms above his head and splays his feet into a firm stance, jerking his chin at you in a go-ahead motion. Your brows furrow as you try to understand what the fuck he's doing.

"Go on. Get ready."

"Um. Ready for what?"

"A little hand-to-hand."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

He shrugs. "That's what you wanted, right? I think you're ready for it."

"That's not what I meant," you almost laugh, shaking your head. "I didn't mean I want to— to fight you. I just meant we don't have to stick to the basics."

"We won't." There is the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, so faint you wonder if it's even there. "You have ten seconds to get ready, Twix."

"I don't even—" you sputter, eyes flying open. If you weren't awake before, you are now. He seems completely serious, his hands in fists and his shoulders squared.

"Five."

"Oh, fuck me," you exhale, balling up your bandaged hands. Did he get you up at this hour so there was no chance of Blue joining? He didn't want her to watch him finally annihilate you? You don't think he would seriously hurt you, not after everything, but that doesn't mean your heart doesn't begin to thump wildly when the seconds are up. Neither of you makes the first move; you are focused on keeping yourself distant, and he is circling you like a predator, flicking his eyes along the length of you.

"What the fuck is that stance? I could just tap you and you'd fall over." His amusement has faded. "Is that how I showed you to stand when chopping wood?"

You shake your head, teeth gritted, and fix it, spreading your boots against the soil.

"Better."

Then, he's lunging. You forget everything about your stance and prance to the side like a skittish deer. There is a moment of relief when you successfully dodge him, only for it to abruptly end when he darts around your back and hooks an arm around your neck. Your heart skips over a beat. Holy shit is he fast.

"Be aware of your surroundings at all times," he chastises against the top of your hair. His hold is not aiming to fully restrain you, so when you claw your nails into his arm, it loosens and you slip away, staggering three strides before facing him with your fists up.

"What's the point of raising your fists if you're not going to hit me?" Ghost circles you again, and you have to shift your feet to keep up with him. "Come on, nurse. Where should you aim?"

"You're too tall." Your chest heaves. "I... I can't reach your face or neck without you blocking."

"Use the height difference to your advantage. Reach places that I can't."

You pause to think about it, studying him.

Ghost almost growls. "Stop hesitating. I could have killed you by now."

A mix of annoyance and determination makes you leap forward, jabbing your knuckles at the part of him where you know his liver would be. He captures you by the elbow before the blow can land, and sends you stumbling to the side, a few wisps of hair cascading over your face.

"Liver. Not bad. I might've let you have it if you moved quicker."

A hiss leaves your lips as you whirl around and punch directly into his core this time. He allows the hit, but your knuckles ram into solid muscle instead of the vulnerable stomach you hoped for, and you recoil with a wave of your hand, cussing under your breath.

"You hurt yourself more than you hurt me."

"Well, should I just kick you in the dick then?" you retort without thinking, flexing your fingers. Luckily, the gauze absorbed most of the damage.

"That's always an option."

His tone is serious, to the point that you almost give it a try, but then he's closing in on you again, sending you back to the defensive. He doesn't hold back. You run in circles and duck frantically, earning a few hits to your ribs. He doesn't use enough force to send you down to the ground, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Rapid breaths fire through your lungs and beads of sweat percolate your hairline. Ghost, on the other hand, appears unaffected.

"Fight back," he says in a mild voice; almost bored.

You nearly throw your arms up. "I would if you'd give me a fucking chance."

"You said not to coddle you."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to—"

Your spine suddenly meets something hard. A tree. He's backed you into it without you even realizing. When Ghost takes another swipe, you dip your head down and then use his recovery time to grab onto a branch and hoist yourself up.

You're barely perched upon it when a hand grips your ankle and drags you back down, an audible gasp reverberating in your chest as you land flat on your back with Ghost on top. His hand quickly cradles the back of your skull before it can crack on a hard tree root, while his other hand captures both of your wrists.

"You good?" Although he is the one who has you effectively pinned, his tone seems sincere. He scans your face from your forehead to your parted lips.

"Just... peachy."

His brows furrow. "What was your plan once you got up there?"

Labored breathing splinters your voice. "I didn't have much of a plan, really."

He speaks flatly. "I can tell."

"You had me cornered," you point out.

"You should have been—"

"Aware of my surroundings," you finish for him, exhaling deep through your nose. "I know."

Your eyes shift around, from his covered face to where his chest just barely presses into yours. It's all so close. Uncomfortably close. You can feel the steady pace of his heart against your sternum, and make out the faintest flecks of green in his eyes.

An ounce of fear and something else you can't quite discern balls up in your stomach, making you swallow. You've been pinned like this before and nearly had your face eaten. Ghost simply stares at you, as if waiting for you to make a move, but when you tug on your wrists, his grip doesn't relent.

"Could you... could you maybe get off of me?"

He shifts some weight off you, if only by a little. "Relax and think," he murmurs. "What are your options here?" The curve of his lips tightens before he adds, "Besides biting my nose off. I'd like to keep that for now."

With a sigh, your eyes slide up to the awakening sky. Hues of violet and orange stare down at you. "Do I... do I even have any options? You must weigh like a ton." The words are past your lips before you can shut your mouth.

"You always have options."

"Doesn't mean any of them will be effective," you say.

His eyes darken, and the green disappears. "Why do you do that?"

"Um... do what?"

"Doubt yourself. After all that you have survived." He sounds irritated.

"As if you haven't doubted me?" You can't help it; you scoff. "You told her I wouldn't come back that time I went on my own. I mean, I'm still weak, remember? No amount of chopping wood will make me as strong as you or those men who almost killed us."

"It's not about strength," he replies.

"That's easy for you to say," you wiggle your wrists for emphasis. "You have nothing to be afraid of. You were cut out for this shit from the start."

"I have everything to be afraid of." His eyes narrow, but his voice softens. "And so were you."

"Me?" Your voice slightly elevates, and a lick of anger curls within you. "I should be in grad school right now, or maybe I would've quit nursing and gone into something useless and hate my life, but I was never meant to kill anyone, let alone fight them. I was meant to be young and stupid and make mistakes. Now, if I make a fucking mistake, it will cost me my life." Your nostrils flare as you huff, sending a piece of hair flying up into his face, and you writhe beneath him. "Get off of me, Ghost."

But he doesn't.

Beats of silence linger in the small gap between your bodies.

You should feel embarrassed for saying all those things, but instead, you think about what he said:

Don't hesitate.

The ball inside you is a fiery mix of emotions that you usually try your damn hardest to ignore and break and shove away.

But now you let it spread through your body like a sizzling tide, from the tips of your fingers down to your toes and... to your knee. Before you can change your mind, you slam it upward as hard as you can into the apex of his groin.

"Fuck," Ghost mutters, the only sign of any pain aside from the brief moment that he closes his eyes.

His hold loosens only by a little, but it's enough for you to slip out from under him and find your way back to your feet, your chest rising and falling.

He clears his throat after a moment and rises.

"Good." The two of you share a stare-off for a few seconds before he shakes his head, saying again: "Good, Twix. More of that."

You rip your gaze away from him, cheeks hot, and say nothing as you snatch the canister and bring it to your lips, but the water does little to cool you down.

You shiver in the bitterness of twilight, your fingers red and numb, wishing for a pair of gloves. The fireflies are coming out, dots of luminescence darting around you. You swing the axe down again, throat raw as you grunt, and then you add the broken logs to the growing stack. Sudden light footsteps announce the end of your alone time.

"It's me," Blue greets kindly.

You drop the axe, hands feeling stiff, and turn to face her with a breathless smile. "Hey. What are you doing out here?"

"Checking on you. Ghost went hard on you this morning, huh?" she says with a sigh. "I could hear you guys. You were a bit... loud. Made it hard to sleep."

"Not too hard. I'm… I'm good."

If she is unconvinced, she doesn't comment on it. Rather, she hugs you. A warm one. You return the embrace before she pulls away.

"I also came because I wanted to invite you to a bonfire."

"Bonfire?"

"Well, with all your..." her eyes flicker to the pile of logs you've conjured over the past hour. "...special workouts, we have a lot of wood now. I told Ghost to make a big fire outside and we can cook dinner over it. It'll be fun, come on. Ghost is making tea, too."

Soon enough, your sore fingers are tingling, holding a warm, ceramic mug of tea. Ghost chucks another bundle of wood into the fire, spitting out smoke and embers, and sits on a tree stump while Blue takes the folding chair. Your hair is down, tucked behind your ears, and a patchwork quilt Blue grabbed from her room lays across your lap. The mug burns pleasantly against your lips when you take a sip, the herbal taste sliding down your throat. Whatever plants he used to make it work together perfectly. It reminds you of the tea your mom used to make when you were sick.

"Do you like it more well-done or is this okay?" Blue asks, meticulously spinning the skewered squirrel meat over the fire.

"That's good, thank you."

Ghost cooks their dinner, and the three of you eat and sip in a comforting silence. You avoid looking at him, opting for the starry sky above your head, where bold stars beam even brighter than the fireflies. It's quite nice. When you're done, you toss the bones into the fire and listen to them splinter.

Blue breaks the silence. "Would you rather be burned alive or be attacked by a bunch of squirrels with rabies?"

You take another sip of tea. "How many squirrels, exactly?"

She taps her chin. "One hundred."

"I think if it were fifty, I could handle them. One hundred, probably not. I'll choose being burned."

She makes a face. "That is a terrible death."

"Most deaths are terrible."

"Fair enough. Ghost?"

For the first time since this morning, you steal a glance. His elbows rest upon his splayed knees, and the orange flames reflect in his eyes as if they were twin black, mirrors. "I could handle the squirrels."

She snorts a laugh. "Even you can't survive rabies, though."

He shrugs. "Takes some time to kill you."

"Let's play a different game," you interject. "Maybe something a little less... morbid tonight."

"Like what?" Blue chimes.

You shrug indifferently. "What other ones do you know?"

"Not that many. You tell us one, Twix."

"Well, I know one good one. You have to act something out and then we'll guess what it is. But you can't talk."

"Oh, that's easy."

"Try it, then," you nod at her.

She leaps up from the chair, nearly spilling her tea in the process. Without hesitation, she puts on a stoic expression and begins shooting finger guns. Quiet laughter shakes your shoulders.

"Are you, um... Ghost?" you guess, making her throw her arms up.

"How did you guess so quickly?"

"It was a bit obvious."

"Not to me," Ghost murmurs. "Terrible impression, kid."

Across the fire, you glance at him again, and his eyes meet yours, reminding you of the events that took place and the words that you spat. Emotions pulse against your ribs, like a swarm of flickering fireflies, but you fail to catch and examine any of them.

A tug on your arm ends the shared look. Tea splatters around the rim of your mug as Blue ushers you up. "Your turn now."

"Alright, alright."

You decide not to feel humiliated with both pairs of eyes on you. They've both seen much stranger things than you act out a squirrel, which must be a good impression because Ghost guesses it right away.

A sudden crack of lightning in the distance puts an end to the game before Ghost can have a turn, which you suspect he is pleased about. He puts out the fire just before clouds roll in, blocking out the stars, and a drizzle of rain begins. Back inside, you kick off your boots and sink to the sofa as Blue says goodnight. Once she’s in her room, Ghost pauses in the threshold of the hall and speaks over his shoulder.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow, even if it's raining.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #cod #zombie apocolypse au

1K notes · View notes

sordidmusings · 5 months

Text

Thirsty Thursday with Insecure Buggy

A/N: Yay another Thirsty Thursday lol next I’m gonna be getting out less explicit things but for now have more smut sluts 🖤 thank you to @fanaticsnail for hyping me love you ♥（ﾉ´∀`）

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns), all NSFW, getting down to nonsense on The Clown Throne, chop chop fuckery, praise, dirty talk, thigh riding, handjob, blowjob, face fucking kind of, clothed sex, lots of desperation and neediness, almost sub!Buggy, he gives you many pet names, praising Buggy because he's somewhat convinced you're doing this for the bit

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy couldn’t believe this was happening. Sure, you’d flirted with him often, but he figured you must be doing that with everyone if it was coming his way. He was certain you were out of his league; if your steadfast dedication and addicting personality weren’t enough then looking at you would let anyone know why. He’d seen members of his crew float around you in search of connection so why would you float to him?

“Stop thinking so hard, baby,” you whisper in his ear before going back to sucking on his neck. Your hips continue their steady grinds against the long erection trapped in his pants. Buggy’s head is leaned back and tilted, desperately offering you as much skin as he can to feel more of your kisses blazing across him. The heat of your mouth and tongue radiate out to his whole body, emptying his mind and quickening his heart. He pants, feeling like air wasn’t enough, but he holds back most of his moans, only letting the ones he could force deep in his voice to go by. He doesn’t want to move too much or be too loud for fear that it would startle you out of whatever has gotten into you to make you climb on top of him on his throne. His hips do work with you though; he couldn’t stop himself from grinding back into you if he tried. The warmth and weight of you is better than his private thoughts could conjure and the way your thighs and ass molded to him make him feel like he could properly attach to you and never let go. The thought of being tied together has his fingers digging harder into your thighs and even gets a whinier moan passing his open lips.

“Captain, you sound so good,” you praise him. You’ve long noticed his hesitation and want to unravel him. Pulling back to look at his face, you bat your lashes at him. “Can I have more?”

“Fuck, dollface, you’re gonna make me lose my head,” Buggy groans. Even in his overwhelm he manages to tilt his face down and waggle his brows at the stupid reference to his powers. You give him a huff of a laugh for his efforts, while your hands curl around the fur lining his jacket. You jerk him towards you, stopping him just short of your noses meeting. Letting him wait for a moment, you watch his hooded eyes admire you, looking first into yours before flicking over your face and settling on your lips. His tongue flicks out to wet his own and you dive in to chase it back into his mouth.

Buggy meets you eagerly, vibrating a grumbling moan into you. His hips pick up beneath you while his hands massage up your thighs to begin working into the meat of your hips. Once they’ve properly sunk in, he guides your hips against him in a needy pace, dragging his hardness deliciously against your clothed cunt. He relishes in the pleased sighs and moans he earns from you, each one making his chest flutter and his dick throb. He wants to slow down and keep this going as long as possible but he can’t help himself.

You shift back and to the left, centering your pulsing cunt on top of Buggy’s right thigh. He hates the distance and uses his clinging grip to pull you flush to him. The whole way, delicious pressure licks at your swollen clit. The closeness has his hip bone snuggled up to your mound, feeling divine when grinding lets it offer indirect pressure to your bud. You had wanted to bounce closer to his knee but this is a wonderful substitute, since you’re craving closeness just as much as he is. Buggy continues guiding you against him, pressing his forehead down into your shoulder to keep himself from moving you too quickly.

Your hands slide up and tug his bandana off, releasing his long hair. It feels so nice with your hands fisted into it. At your light tug, Buggy moans loud and long, sounding fucked out without even getting inside you. “Doll, pleaaaaase.” He isn’t even sure what he’s begging for. Wanting to muffle the whiny sounds leaving him, Buggy turns his face to bury it in your neck, working hard to send tingles across your skin and leave you with pretty marks. He knows they’ll look gorgeous under the smears of his makeup.

“Wanna taste you,” you moan to him and his cock throbs hard. He bites out a breathy “fuck” at the idea and bites eagerly at you, but he won’t let you move back. He can’t stand any distance from you at the moment but refuses to voice that. You figure it out, however, when his right hand slides up your spine to keep your chest pressed tight to his. One of your hands leaves his hair to pull at his waistband and shove beneath it. His cock feels hot and wet in your hand, making your head spin at how worked up he is for you - he’s positively dripping.

“You’re fucking perfect, Captain,” you groan, feeling his dick jump at your words. Buggy trembles beneath you, overwhelmed at your touch and the euphoria of hearing you praise him. He’d rarely let himself enjoy cumming to the fantasy of you calling him pretty things; he found that it made a lonely ache settle in his heart once the burning joy drained out of his chest, leaving him alongside the delusions of your affection. But you’re real now, fulfilling his wishes and why?

“Don’t taunt me,” Buggy grumbles, some actual anger creeping into his tone.

“I’m not,” you respond incredulously.

“I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea,” he grouses, slowing his movements in his souring mindset. His body at least is still as eager; his cock stays just as rock hard in your hand. You keep up your slow pumping and turn to trail sweet kisses across his shoulder and up his neck. The flowing strands of his hair that spill everywhere feel just as soft against your lips as they do on your fingertips. You reach his ear, which peaks out between the blue rivers of his hair.

“Well you’re my cup of tea, and if I had my way you’d just be mine,” you whisper, tickling his ear with your hot breath. Buggy ramps up the circling of your hips again, moaning prettily for you.

“Don’t say that,” he whines. His eyes are scrunched shut, protecting himself from the temptation of your words and how quickly your touch is beginning to send him to his end.

“Fine. Then I’ll say this.” You pull a shiver from him by nipping his ear earlobe. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes and the most handsome face I’ve ever seen,” you begin, moving your hand lower to fondle his heavy balls. He shifts his thighs wider to beg for more. “It’s like your jaw was cut from marble and that stubble is so fucking hot.” You use the hand in his hair to pull his head up and rub your cheek into the scratch of his dark blue facial hair. “I’ve been dying to see what you look like under your clothes; watching those muscles of yours in your arms work is enough to get me daydreaming.” Buggy thinks that sounds great; he’s feeling way too hot for all the layers on his body. “Even more than that, I need to touch you.” You slide your grip back up to give him a squeeze and thumb at the head of his cock. “I’ve thought about it every day - thought about you making me yours.”

“Shut up,” Buggy begs weakly, his body and mind burning uncontrollably for you.

“Detach this,” you order, squeezing his cock again. Buggy obeys without thought, head too busy drowning in your praises. You pull him from his trousers with ease, since he only detached his actual penis, and bring it up to your lips. You place a loving kiss on his frenulum before flicking your tongue on it playfully. Buggy jolts back to look at you with foggy eyes. His swollen lips look so pretty, hanging open to pant and highlighted by all that red paint. You won’t tell him because you know how sensitive he is, but his red nose matching his red lips looks beautiful and makes all the blue in his eyes, makeup, and hair even more handsome.

Buggy’s eyes are glued to you to watch his tip disappear into your mouth right next to his face. His eyes flutter with the want to roll back but he stubbornly keeps them on you, needing to absorb this in his memory. You’re inching him in slowly, letting him catch every detail of the act that was making him feel so fucking good. The swirl of your tongue against him makes his eyes shut a few moments before blinking open again. High moans struggle out of him with his breath and his brow creases above his glossy eyes. When the tip reaches the back of your mouth, you give a firm suck around him. He groans and stutters the pace of your hips, fingers twitching against you.

You pull him back out of your mouth and loll your tongue out to lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock. Continuing to put on a show, you sweep the tip of your tongue around his head before licking your lips and swallowing heavily. You get a show in return, watching pleasure and need play out clearly on his flushed face.

“Oh shit, sugar, you’re so fucking good for me,” Buggy moans. You sink him all the way into your mouth again for his hungry gaze. His voice turns reverent as he watches you. “My doll -hah- my spotlight.” Fuck, that sent you clenching. You grind your hips down into him harder while you pull him back out to suckle at his head. His warmth is still seeping right into your hips and thighs even through his leather pants and your shorts, the seam of which was pulling tight and teasing at you perfectly. You were beginning to struggle with thrusting Buggy into your mouth while he turns your mind to mush with the way his death grip is grinding you onto him. You get an idea for a solution and a shiver crawls up your spine in anticipation.

“Fuck me, Buggy,” you plead on a whisper before sliding him back past your lips. Buggy throws his head back, clunking it into the wood of his seat, and gasps out a “yes”. His dick begins moving on its own, tentatively grinding against your tongue first to get you used to it. Slowly, his shallow movements gain more length but keep their indulgently slow pace. Once he’s approaching your throat on the push in, you ease your head backwards to line him up. Buggy pants out curses at your willingness to be used and to please him, swearing to himself that he’ll pay you back ten times over for doing this for him.

The rest of his thoughts leave him when he slides his dick lower to stretch out the entrance of your throat. You are in a similar state, struck with the heady feeling of him using you in such a sinful way. It’s deliciously overwhelming in conjunction with the buzzing shooting through you from rubbing your pussy across his leg. A loud moan shakes through your throat, into his head, up his shaft and Buggy loses any ability to hold back.

He curls into you, burying his face into your shoulder and neck, moaning and whining against you. The hand at your back is clawing and tugging at you, desperate to keep you as close as possible, while the one on your hip continues encouraging your heavy grinds into his thick thigh. The muscle keeps tensing against your drooling pussy, helping to increase the friction. The seat underneath you both groans at your growing motions but you ignore it as easily as you ignore the armrests digging into your knees. Buggy is the only thing on your mind - the push and pull of his grasp, the overwhelmed sounds spilling from his lips, the pressure of his thigh sparking pleasure through you, and the thick cock fucking your breath out of you. The need to breathe through your nose causes you to take in lungfuls of his musk and shampoo and salty air.

“My sweet -nngh- sweet star, you feel so -hahn- good taking me like that,” Buggy pants, painting your neck with humid breath. He’s losing himself to the sloppy sounds of his dick fucking your mouth and the fervent vibrating moans you use to sing out how good he’s making you feel. “Need to slow down or -aaaahh- you’re gonna make me cum too soon-Fuck!” You had forced the curse from him by groaning even louder to the thought of him cumming.

Keeping his arm around you, Buggy detaches his hand to sneak it into the front of your shorts. His eyes roll back when he feels how wet you are; enough that your grinding already smeared it up and over your clit. “You’re so damn perfect, sweetness, can’t -nnngah- believe you’re here riding my thigh,” he moans. He begins sliding shapes over your swollen bud, needing you to be as close as he is. His words and ministrations have you sobbing around the slow thrusts of his cock. Despite your efforts to swallow your spit around him, a thin line of drool has begun to creep from the corner of your mouth and down your cheek.

Buggy’s fingertips are trapped tight to you from your clothes and his thigh, his hip also keeping his hand curled firmly against your mound. Hot, syrupy pleasure is swirling through your clenching walls and thrumming strongly behind your clit. Your struggling breath keeps your mind scattered and hazy and sets tingles alight in your hands and feet. Each drumming beat of your heart highlights the promise of bliss tearing through your body.

“Need you to cum for me, dollface,” Buggy rushes out, “Ple-hease -hnnggaahhh- can you do that? -hhah- For me?”

Becoming overwhelmed with the pressure pounding between your hips, you twist your fist tighter into his thick hair, getting a heavy groan from him. Clumsy and frantic, your right hand moves back into his pants and cups his balls, earning a jerk of his hips - a bright shock to your clit.

“Fuck, doll! Don’t stop, don’t stop-”

Your hips are shaking in his grasp, adding jolts of extra friction on top of your steady bounces and his consistent swirling fingers. Buggy’s hips move to match the thrusts of his cock, massaging his tightening balls into your hand. His babbling gets higher and less and less coherent, matching the desperate way his dick twitches and throbs in your mouth. He’s gotten sloppy there, getting you to gag occasionally around his length when he accidentally shoves a little too deep or off rhythm. It gets you even dizzier and closer, feeling messy and animalistic in this rabid chase for each other’s climax.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, shit -nhah!- please I-” He’s already over the edge, pressing too deep into your throat and spurting hot cum for you to swallow. You would have choked if you didn’t catch your orgasm right with him, relaxing your throat and letting you swallow mindlessly. Both of you shook and clung to each other through the ride, hearts pumping scorching heat through your bodies. You can feel each of his breaths cramming his chest into yours and causing your breasts to rub against him. The tingling from your nipples was swept right into the whirlpool moving through you.

Still pumping cum, Buggy pulls his cock back to rest the head on your tongue, which starts massaging at him, seeking more twitches and more to drink. Buggy is crying curses into your neck, well into the realm of ‘too much’ but adoring the way he feels like you’ve pulled him apart at the seams, coaxing the longest orgasm he’s known from him in throbs that just keep coming and coming and coming. You’re doing no better, marveling at the endless waves that seize your muscles and have colors dancing behind your scrunched eyelids. The flood of your orgasm slams through your whole body, saturating every nerve, before the receding tides are dragging and pulling at your trembling limbs.

In the wake of your pleasure, both of you are left to slump against each other, panting loudly. Buggy’s hand moves back to the arm held around you and joins the hand on your hip in the act of trailing soothing fingertips across your overworked muscles. You begin peppering happy kisses on Buggy’s shoulder, managing more and more as your breathing settles. You’re overcome with the need to smother him in affection, shimmying yourself to be centered on his lap and hugging him tight, snuggling your cheek into the crook of his neck. You card your fingers through his soft hair and scratch gently at his tender scalp. A rumbling moan leaves him at the feeling, and you giggle lightly at how much it reminds you of a purring cat.

“Can I-” You cut yourself off, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. Buggy hums and tilts his head against yours to prompt you to continue. “Can I sit with you here awhile?”

Buggy’s heart is fluttering at your words, making him fully lovesick in the swirl of endorphins. You thought he’d just want to fuck you and send you away? He can’t be fucked to guess at why you’ve chosen him at the moment, not after all that. He’s just going to do his damnedest to make the choice worth your while.

“Spotlight, pumpkin,” Buggy breathes, “you’re never leaving my side.”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

I had to add this at the end because it just fits too fucking well 💀💀💀

#buggy x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown #opla buggy #thirsty thursday #thirst hours #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #buggy smut #one piece × reader #one piece smut #afab reader #my writing #x reader

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hoshiputa · 4 months

Text

You're mine

💌 S.Coups x female reader

📩 Request: Toxic jealous S.Coups

cw: nsfw, established relationship, jealous!scoups, slight angst, name calling, exhibitionism, arguing, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, piv sex, creampie

word count: 2.2k

It all started when your boyfriend called out for you and then stood at the edge of the pool with an open wide towel. It was summer and not cold at all, but you thought it was cute, so you just let Seungcheol wrap you up with the soft fabric.

“What's up, babe?” You asked softly, giving him a quick kiss.

“Nothing, I just wanted you to get out of there.”

You frowned with confusion, your boyfriend shooting deadly stares at every single person out there.

“What? Why?”

When you unwrapped the towel from you to use it to dry your hair, Seungcheol took it and covered you again, impatiently wrapping the towel around your body.

“Cheol…?” You started.

“Why did you have to wear such a tiny bikini?”

“Excuse me?!” You chuckled, towel resting on top of your shoulders. “I was swimming, Seungcheol.”

“But you could be wearing shorts or something,” he argued. “And don't call me Seungcheol.”

Your boyfriend had always been protective over all, but not actually jealous. Most of the time, he just trusted the fact he was a black belt in taekwondo and was training jiu-jitsu if someone ever approached you. Okay, he always had something to say about you wearing revealing or short clothing, but most of the time you just ignored it.

“You wanted me to wear shorts to the pool?”

“Yeah, what's so shocking about it?”

Your boyfriend sighed with frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he ran his hand through his hair, damp from his previous dive. He looked like a sin, exposed chest and swim shorts hanging low from his hips.

“You're just saying anything,” you scoffed, giving him back the towel. “I'm getting a drink.”

“No, I think you should dress up.”

You had just turned your back to walk towards the house, but turned back around after hearing those words.

“What?”

“It's too small,” he said as if it was obvious. “Put on some shorts or change for another bikini.”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” you chuckled.

Walking inside the house your boyfriend and his friends rented to spend summer, you went to the kitchen, finding a shirtless Seokmin chopping something by the sink.

“Hey, are you hungry?” He asked as you opened the fridge. “Mingyu is grilling meat. I'm preparing a salad.”

He proudly showed you a bowl full of perfectly chopped lettuce and spinach, thinly sliced cucumbers and purple onions, a wide smile on his face as you popped a soda can.

“Great job,” you gave him a thumbs up. “Should I be scared that you're this good with a knife?”

Seokmin laughed, loud as usual, making you laugh along with him as you stood by his side to watch him cut up something else.

“What's so funny?”

Seungcheol's voice made you sigh, and as he walked inside the kitchen, Seokmin's smile slowly faded as soon as he saw the older man's expression. You turned around to stare at your boyfriend, leaning against the kitchen's sink.

“Seokmin was just talking about his salad,” you said.

“And you're shitting your pants from that?”

“Cheol, we're not gonna do this,” you said firmly. “If you have a problem, say it out loud like an adult.”

“I just said and you turned your back at me,” he argued.

“No, you—”

“Guys,” Seokmin said softly.

“You never listen to me anyway,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“I'll listen if you stop talking nonsense.”

“Nonsense?!” He stepped closer to you, staring into your eyes. “You think it's nonsense?”

“Cheol—”

“Shut up, Seokmin,” he gave his friend a deadly stare. “It's none of your business.”

“Don't talk to him like that,” you said, frowning. “God, what's gotten into you today?!”

��I'll talk to people however the fuck I want.”

Seungcheol was standing just a few inches away from you, eyes fiercely staring into yours.

“Okay, but he doesn't have anything to do with this—”

“Why are you defending him anyways?” Seungcheol got even closer, lips now inches away from yours. “I bet you're getting off from knowing everyone here wants to fuck you, right?”

Your jaw dropped, and you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or punch your boyfriend in the face.

“Dude, what are you saying?” Seokmin was just as shocked as you. “I would never— No one here would ever look at your girlfriend that way.”

“Oh, miss me with the bullshit,” Seungcheol stepped away, turning his back.

Knowing him pretty well, stepping away meant he was trying not to lose his temper.

“I'm actually offended that you think of me that way,” Seokmin said.

“Ignore it, he's just being insane,” you told your friend, turning back to the sink. “Go back to your salad.”

“I'm being insane?” Seungcheol said, sarcastic smile on his face. “Then why is he popping jokes every five minutes to get your attention? It's not the first time today.”

“That's just who I am?” Seokmin said with confusion. “If you don't want anyone here to talk to your girlfriend then you shouldn't have invited her.”

Seungcheol went towards Seokmin, staring into the other's eyes.

“Don't think I won't beat you up just because we're friends,” he threatened. “Keep up with your shit and you'll see what happens.”

“I think you should calm down,” you said, pushing your boyfriend away.

Seokmin stood there motionless, not because he was scared, but because he probably felt betrayed that his long term friend didn't trust him.

When Seungcheol looked at you, he was almost foaming at the mouth as he spoke in between teeth.

“I'll calm down once you get fucking dressed.”

Seungcheol didn't even raise his voice. He didn't have to. If it was anyone else, they would've already pissed their pants and went home crying. But that was your boyfriend for three years now, you knew exactly how things worked with him. So you went to the living room, Seungcheol right behind you.

“They're literally your friends. And everyone has been nothing but respectful—”

“Oh, yeah, I saw how respectfully Wonwoo stared at your ass when you got out of the pool,” he said sarcastically.

“I'm sure he didn't do that.”

“I literally saw it!”

“Okay, whatever, why does it matter?” You shrugged. “It's not like he tried anything or—”

“Why does it matter? You must have lost your fucking mind.” He sneered at you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” You said with irritation, voice slightly raising.

“I just don't want them looking at your body.”

“You're fucking crazy,” you said nonchalantly. “We're swimming. It's summer. People wear bikinis.”

“I didn't fucking ask,” Seungcheol looked scarily calm. “Go put on some clothes.”

You laughed sarcastically, still not believing his words.

“I'm not changing just because you're insecure.”

That seemed to make him snap. If his eyes could turn red, they would've. Seungcheol slowly got closer, eyes glued to yours.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“That's where jealousy comes from. Insecurity,” you shrugged.

Seungcheol grabbed you by the chin, lips inches away from yours.

“Get upstairs.”

You laughed at his face.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're getting upstairs because I fucking told you so,” he spat the words. “Otherwise I'll take you out and fuck you right in front of everyone since you like to show-off so much.”

Your body temperature raised as you stared into your boyfriend's eyes, his words echoing in the back of your head. It was a pattern you had to work on; every time he got angry, it went straight down your pussy, thighs clenching and all.

“Oh, did I upset you, Cheollie?”

Your lips crashed, your boyfriend eager as his hands grabbed tight around your waist, pushing his body against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, Seungcheol's hand gripping so tight at your ass it made you moan against his lips.

“Cheol—” You gasped as he sucked at the skin in your neck. “Let's go upstairs—”

“Now you want to go upstairs?”

Seungcheol held tighter around your waist, pushing you against the sofa. You laid down with your heart racing, your boyfriend getting on top of you with a devilish smirk on his lips.

“Wait— What if someone sees us?”

“Isn't that what you want?” He leaned down, lips pressed to your ear. “My pretty little attention whore.”

Shivers went down your spine as he bit on your neck, gasps escaping from your lips and your shaking hands going through his hair. He sucked on your skin hard enough to leave marks, heat growing in between your legs.

“Seriously— Ah!”

Seungcheol had pulled your bikinis top to the sides, exposing your boobs to suck on your nipples.

“Weren't you all over Wonwoo? You won't mind if he sees me sucking your tits, will you?”

“Please— Not here—”

“Wow, you're polite all of a sudden?”

Your boyfriend slipped his hand inside your bikini bottom as you desperately put your top back in place, looking over your head at the giant glass window from where the sun came in and you could see the pool.

Fortunately, they were probably all gathered outside at the table by the grill, but if anyone decided they wanted to go swimming, you'd be fucked. Not in a good way.

“Cheol, what if—”

Seungcheol started rubbing your clit, your cunt getting wet in seconds as you gripped onto his shoulders.

“I'm just gonna show you how insecure I am,” he smirked, fingers brushing at your entrance.

“Let's go—”

You were stopped by your boyfriend untying one side of your bikini bottoms, pulling the rest to the side and exposing you right in the middle of the living room in a house where six other people could walk in at any moment.

“Shit, don't—”

You swallowed dry as Seungcheol started moving down, hands softly caressing your hips before he went down in between your legs, leaving open mouth kisses in your inner thighs.

“Fuck, no…” You moaned, his fingers playing with your cunt.

“Are you scared Seokmin might see us?”

Seungcheol's lips were really close to your cunt when he spoke, his warm breathing hitting against your core, making your toes curl.

“Anyone could see us—”

Your hand almost smacked your mouth when Cheol wrapped his lips around your folds, sucking hard on your clit, slurping your juices. Your legs trembled as you looked up once again, then at the kitchen’s door, waiting for someone to walk in.

Cheol didn't seem to care, wet sounds from his lips against your dripping cunt taking over the room as you pressed your hand tight against your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“You looked really pretty with this bikini,” his tongue brushed against your entrance. “But your wet pussy looks better. And they can't have it.”

Cheol pushed one of his fingers inside your cunt, softly stretching your entrance. Your back arched, your heart skipping a beat when you heard Mingyu's laugh, followed by Seokmin's high pitched scream.

“Oh, God—” You whispered.

Giving in, you held tight onto your boyfriend's hair, shoving his face harder into your wet cunt to try to make him go faster. Instead of working harder, he simply grabbed one of your calves and placed your leg on top of his shoulder.

With your pussy spread out to him, you let Cheol’s finger fuck into you as his tongue sucked on your clit so hard you felt your soul almost leaving your body.

“Babe— A room—” You whined.

Cheol surprised you by pushing a second finger in, still sucking hard at your clit, heat pooling down your core as you squirmed under him. Losing yourself, you closed your eyes and let him stretch you out, his fingers hitting just right as you gripped onto the sofa's armrest. Cheol’s soft lips felt like heaven, especially when he started moving his head faster.

You just didn't expect him to pull out his cock and shove into you without a warning, his thickness stretching you out so good you let a loud and clear moan escape from your lips.

Desperate, you once again looked around, checking every exit and window, your friends nowhere to be seen.

“What? Want them to watch me fucking you?”

Seungcheol grabbed your chin, making you stare into his eyes, and when you held tight around his neck and wrapped your legs around his hips, it was just you, him, and the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You got lost into the sensation of his thick tip hitting deep, every thrust making you bite hard onto your own lip to keep quiet.

“You're. All. Mine.”

Every pause of his previous words turned into a hard, deep pound, your legs turning into jelly as you opened yourself even more to him. You didn't want to open your eyes, because you were pretty sure you'd end up seeing a crowd watching your boyfriend fuck you into oblivion, anxiety mixing with the feeling of your walls tightening around your boyfriend's big cock.

“Fuck—” You whispered, scratching his back. “Cheol— I'm—”

Your back arched as the wave of pleasure hit you like a punch in the stomach, leaving you breathless and almost paralyzed as Seungcheol started thrusting even harder, your sensitive clit and walls pulsing. You held onto him as you felt Cheol's cock fill you up with his cum, leaking as he kept thrusting until there was nothing left.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “That's what you needed, right?”

Seungcheol grabbed your face, your cheeks squeezed into his hand as he breathed hard while staring deeply into your eyes.

“Never forget you're mine.”

#seventeen smut #scoups #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #svt smut #svt x reader #scoups x you #mine

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writingforatwistedworld · 11 months

Note

How would riddle, malleus and epel react to the overseer personally knowing their family their family was not aware they were the overseer (for malleus and epel the overseer met their grannys and for riddle they know his mom)

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, kidnapping, religion, cult, unhealthy relationship, threats, blood, imprisonment

Riddle Rosehearts/Epel Felmier/Malleus Draconia-Player knows one of their family members

Riddles mother

It was once more time for a holiday

NRC was prepared to host a few attractions and to have family members visit for a day or two

Riddle was warned by a letter from his mother that she was coming

So the day was here. The celebration was in full swing. And look at that, it's the mother of a certain redhead. Noo-I mean, yay...

Riddle was prepared for another scolding for something he “did wrong” but after greeting her son (in a way too stiff manner) she turned to you and... greeted you as well?

You see, little, helpful you had promised the former red tyrant to help his dorm with their celebration so you were also present when the madam came over

“Mother, why do you know the Overseer?” “What are you talking about, Riddle?”

Apparently, Trey had once invited you to meet his family after you showed interest in his siblings and the bakery. In the Queendom you had gone on a walk in the forest, slipped and twisted your ankle so badly that you couldn't walk anymore. Luckily Riddles mother came by (for some reason) and helped you, being a doctor and all

Now, lady is of course no idiot so after her son had asked her that question she was just a new addition to the garden as a statue

Riddle was terrified that you saw the polite yet also arrogant way his mother spoke to you in the past as something rude

Now, you were of course not the biggest fan of her but at least she healed you back then

Once you are gone, running off to Pomefiore to help over there, Riddle had a talk with his mother

Usually he would show her respect but today it was like the roles were reversed

Kind words and any kind of love he had left for her were thrown out of the window when he asked her “how she could have not recognized their uncrowned ruler?”

Riddle was this close to snapping and using his special magic on her

For the first time Riddles mother was afraid of her son

Never before had she seen him so angry

But oh well, better stay in line and be nice to you instead of finding out how far she could push his boundaries

It was almost like he wouldn't just chop her head off in a metaphorical sense with his special magic but rather literally in a much, much more bloody way

Epels Grandmother

Ah yes, Epels sweet sweet granny could of course not miss her beloved grandson

She even prepared some cake and other delicious treats for him. How sweet!

So when perfection themselves, the Overseer, suddenly marched over after they spotted a familiar mop of light lilac hair he nearly had a heart attack

But instead of his Granny being surprised she just said a nice hello, that it was good to see you again and how things had been since you had seen each other

Why did his granny know the Overseer? Why did his granny know God?

Now Epel couldn't of course ask that later part, considering that his villages view on you was in comparison rather... yeah let's call it “extreme”

Turns out he had forgotten something when he visited Harveston the last time and you brought it to him, only for you to meet his Grandmother before you ran into him. Giving her what he forgot the two of you had a nice little talk before you left

And this is the point when Epel felt like he was ready to bash his head against the wall

Vil must have noticed a short in Epels mood because the model just threw him a very poisonous look

So here Eprl was, standing like a lost little child between his Granny and f-ing God whilst the two of you had a nice little chat about the weather

When you finally said goodbye to the two, running off to Diasomnia because you were invited for tea, Epel was juts like “Granny, we need to talk.”

Say goodbye to your apple-free days because after that talk, there will be boxes of so-called “offerings” in front of your door. Every. Single. Day.

“Granny, don't be too shocked but you met God.” “Hoho, what are you talking about?” “...” “Oh...”

For the rest of the day her legs were so shaky that Epel was afraid for her health

I mean, come on, the very person who has drilled tales about a deity into your head finally meeting said deity is something that is guaranteed to have a way too high blood pressure

The next time you run into her she isn't entirely sweet anymore

Of course she is still nice but there is something creepy about her. The way her eyes drill into you, how her questions are always a tad bit too personal

And did she just utter a prayer with your name in it? Nah, must be your imagination

Malleus Grandmoter

How she didn't recognize you the first time you two met is a wonder considering that she has that sixth sense every Fae has that tingles even when you are being simply mentioned

But today is a great day, Malleus grandmother came over to visit her grandson, a rare day of rest for her

Maleus was just about to tell her that he had invited a guest when you showed up

So when he stood up to introduce you to her she was just like “Oh, the child of man I met that one day.”

Cue Malleus standing there like a plank

Poor man is so surprised that he can't even ask how the heck you two met each other

When he finally asked when you two met he found out that he had forgotten to send a letter of his so you had jumped through one of the mirrors and delivered it to the castle yourself

After almost getting impaled for jumping right into a heavily guarded castle you had explained yourself and boom, you had a fife minute talk with grandma Draconia

Ok, great, wonderful, but did she know that you were the Overseer?

When he told her who you were she had to set down her teacup, shock sinking into her bones

Following his words you asked what he meant with Overseer

This was the day Diasomnia saw their dorm leader drop a teacup

Like with Epel you are now more or less in trouble

I mean, yeah, it's nice to get literal national treasures sent to your doorstep but at the same time, what the heck??!

Back in the Valley of Thorns the Fae are panicking left and right

What do you mean, the Overseer has already visited us once? And we pointed all kind of sharp tools at them??!

It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you just woke up one day in a room that you had never seen before, living like a bird in a golden cage

You know, the next ruler has taken a liking to you and your loyal followers need to protect you

So sit still and don't try to run

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 month

Text

So With Spider-Punk: Arms Race #2 right around the corner: .......I'm gonna say it

Hobie's New Design is Bad.

Incredibly bad. Like 'leave it in the drafts homie' bad. Fuck it, I'm about to start using words I ain't even know I knew - this shit is EGREGIOUS.

It ain't cute.

It's bad. It's ugly, bro. His hair is serving Coral Reef And I'm tired of pretending it's not.

And it feels SO subtly anti-black.

[A very SHORT essay where I basically say: Oh hell naw]

For one I feel like they're stripping Hobie's black features. Or toning them down a LOT.

Even if we aren't counting the blue eyes they gave in him in Issue One.

Now, over time Hobie's looked many different ways - but throughout his runs his features were 100% supposed to be interpreted as black.

And while his newer comic runs tone that down a bit, it still looks natural.

And his hair has ALWAYS been natural. So much so that it's one of the defining features of movie Hobie as well.

This.... Isn't that. Not only has his natural hair been shaved and died, but it was done into a style made to DIRECTLY ripoff an already popular WHITE character - Gwen Stacy.

And once again, BLUE EYES???

And it's so bizarre!!!! Cause his design hasn't changed, but it REALLY HAS!! LIKE LOOK-

This is supposed to be the same guy, making the same expression. This is not the same fucking guy.

They have the same brow shape and lip shape and nose, but that's not the same fucking guy and I can't articulate why.

Looking at his profile highlights this way more, especially when putting him next to Movie Hobie.

Notice how ALL of Comic!Hobie's features are RAZOR sharp?

Whereas, Movie!Hobie's features, his features are actually fairly soft.

His nose and lips are curved and soft - even his pronounced brow bone is still curved, DESPITE him having a sharper face shape than Comic!Hobie.

That's because Movie Hobie has Black People Features.

Comic Hobie DOESN'T.

I wish I was joking when I say -

I feel like they're genuinely using Johnny Storms model and coloring it brown.

It's just... too bad not too be.

This redesign is atrocious. It's worse than the Attack on Titan manga.

And from what we can tell - this is a HOBIE SPECIFIC problem. Riri Williams - IronHeart - looks FINE.

Not to be dramatic, but this is very much a disappointment. It's honestly impressive how they managed to fumble the design bag SO EASILY.

Marvel Comics only leases Hobie Brown character to Sony. Hobie is still their IP - they can plunder his SONY design as much as they like, so long as it looks reasonably Not Identical.

And still they decided to do a 180, tone down his black features, unnatural his hair, and give him blue eyes.

Marvel. Pack it up. You're chopped.

#spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #SpiderPunk Arms Race #marvel comics #meta analysis

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tasteleeknow-remade · 2 years

Text

— sweet

pairing: chan x fem!reader genre: smut, soft!dom chan. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 4.1k

summary: you're his best friend’s little sister. he's obsessed with you, and you him. he has very good self control—until he’s forced to share a tent with you. forced proximity with corruption kink.

profanity. possessive behaviour. protected intercourse. afab!reader. forced proximity. corruption kink. pet names. oral (f. rec).

You were lucky to have a big brother that actually liked you; your best friend’s brother liked to pretend she didn’t exist. This weekend you were going camping with him and his best friend, Chan. Your best friend, Sana, was coming too. She’d developed a crush on your brother years ago. You didn’t mind, so long as she kept the swooning to a minimum. You loved your brother but if you had to hear anymore speculation about whether or not he’d be chopping firewood and if he would do it in short sleeves… you’d ban her from the trip.

“You have to help me find a way to share his tent.” She said, doing her makeup while you lounged on her bed.

“Don’t be creepy.”

“Don’t pretend like I'm the perv when you've been trying to seduce Chan any chance you get for months.”

You closed the book you were reading. “Have not.”

“Whatever, are you gonna help me or not?”

“What do you want me to do? Knock his friend out? Drag Chan’s body into the woods so you can sneak in there and stare at my brother's face all night?” She gave you a tired look.

“Luckily, it’ll be much easier than that. You’ll just have to be a bitch to me. You’ll be great at it—a real natural.”

You threw one of the pillows you were leaning against at her.

“Oh come on, you’ll get something out of it too.” She turned to you, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“You’re gonna pay me to help you fuck my brother?”

“No, i’m going to return the favour; i’ll help you fuck his best friend.” You raised your eyebrows at her. “You be a bitch to me, we have a fight, blah blah.” She grabbed her mascara, waving it around as she detailed her plan. “Then we refuse to share a tent, your brother’s very thoughtful best friend offers to swap tents with me—you fuck him, I fuck Minho. Happily ever after.”

“Why the fuck would I want you to help me fuck Chan?”

“Oh come on, can we drop the playing dumb thing. Are you helping me or not?” She turned to start applying her mascara while you considered. You actually thought they’d make a cute couple. You’d never really seen your brother with a serious girlfriend before, but it was pretty clear to you he had a soft spot for your Sana.

“Will you swear not to tell me a single fucking thing that happens in that tent?”

“Oh so you don’t wanna hear all the details about how I blow your broth-”

“Alright, not helping you.”

“Okay! I swear. Won’t mention it ever in my life. I’ll be your loyal friend forever and you can be my maid of honour at our wedding.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy in love with your hot brother.”

Your phone started vibrating on the bed next to you. “It’s Minho, shut up unless you want him to hear you.” You answered the call, jumping up to look out your friend’s bedroom window. “Yeah?”

“We’re here, you ready?”

“Yeah, be right down.” You ended the call and grabbed your bag from the end of the bed.

“They’re here? We haven’t discussed how we’re going to fight.” Sana dropped her mascara into her makeup bag then went to grab her stupidly oversized bag from the bed.

“I’ve gotta be a bitch to you right? I’m sure I can manage that. You just overreact—be a drama queen—you’ll be a natural.”

Something hit your back as you turned to leave the room. “Ow!” You turned to see a small pouch on the ground, like the one you used to carry your tampons around.

“Condoms. Be safe.” She grinned. You grabbed it, stuffing it in your bag.

“Oh my god. How much shit did you bring?” You were attempting—and failing—to cram your bag into the footrest in the backseat. One of the three seats in the back was already occupied by a pile of sleeping bags and miscellaneous crap.

“Just what we needed,” your brother replied from the driver's seat.

You grabbed a badminton racket sticking out from the pile of shit spilling over the backseat headrests, “Badminton?”

“That’s Chan’s.”

The second Minho said his name, a hand rested on the small of your back, startling you.

“Sorry, just me. Your skirt was— uh…riding up.” Chan said, his hand dropping from your back as you pulled your head from the car. You turned to face him.

“Oh, was it? Oops, thanks.”

“I was just looking for a spot for this.” He held up your friend’s very large bag, his biceps flexing. He was wearing a t-shirt; thank god for the hot weather. It was also a good sign for your friend’s firewood chopping fantasies.

“There’s no space. Sana will have to have it with her in the front.”

“I can’t, it’ll crush me,” she protested, already comfortable in the front passenger seat. She had caught up with you just as you reached the front door, throwing herself against it—refusing to move until you’d promised to let her sit in the front with Minho. “Whatever”, you’d told her. You’d learned many years ago to pick your battles wisely. Which is why you weren’t going to fight over this bag situation.

“Fine, we’ll make it fit back here.” You stepped back to let Chan attempt to cram it into the already full backseat. He leaned into the car, resting one of his knees on the seat as he tried to stuff the bag in. You watched as his t-shirt rode up his back—skin peaking out between the hem and his shorts.

“Yeah, this isn’t gonna work,” he said. You peaked over his shoulder, he’d shoved the bag as far as he could but it was still taking up the majority of the middle seat.

“She’ll just have to sit on your lap.” Sana said.

“What? No, it’ll have to go at your feet.” Chan apparently thought this was a battle worth fighting.

“It won’t fit, and I can’t sit with that on me for an hour. It’s probably heavier than her.”

You made eye contact with your friend over Chan’s shoulder—she grinned at you just as Chan turned away from her.

“I'm not sure that’s a good idea…” Chan protested, standing outside of the car now—one hand on the roof of the car.

“Oh just get the fuck in the car,” your brother grumbled. “I'm going to suffocate without the aircon on.” Apparently, he was the deciding voice because Chan gave you a quick look up and down and then lowered himself into the car. You watched as he put his seatbelt on and then placed each of his hands at his sides—looking extremely uncomfortable. Sighing, you smoothed your skirt down over your ass and lowered yourself into his lap—closing the car door behind you.

“You alright?” His mouth was so close to your ear, you could feel his breath brush against your skin as he spoke. You were fucked.

You adjusted yourself in his lip, the skin on the back of your thighs against his. “Yeah, all good.”

You couldn’t take much more of this. “How long til we’re there?” You asked Minho, shifting yourself as you spoke.

“20 minutes,” he replied, glancing into the rear view mirror. “You need a break? I can pull over. I just saw a rest stop sign.”

“Ugh, yeah. I just need to stretch my legs. Chan probably does too.”

Sana had been flirting with your brother for the past 40 minutes—and he’d let her. Which by your brother's standards may as well have been a marriage proposal. You didn’t know which you needed a break from more—Chan’s lap or their flirting. He’d grabbed your waist about 10 minutes earlier after you’d readjusted yourself one too many times. He hadn’t said anything though. In fact, he hadn’t spoken the entire trip—his hands remaining by his sides up until 10 minutes ago.

“I could use a break, yeah.” His breath tickled your ear again.

You splashed water on your face in the tiny public restroom sink as your friend spoke to you in a hushed tone. “Right, we should do it now. Just look upset as we leave the bathroom and follow my lead.”

“I want the pink top.”

“What?”

“Your pink top that I'm always complimenting you on. That’s my price.”

“I thought your price was not hearing all the hot details about how I fuck your brother tonight.”

“That still stands.”

“You’re really still gonna act like I'm not also doing you a favour?” She reached over to pick a strand of hair off your shirt. “How was it? Sitting on his lap.”

“Uncomfortable.”

“Did he get a boner?” She was smiling now, shaking her hand until the strand of hair detached itself from her fingers.

“No.”

“You sure? You know he’s obsessed with you? Minho told me.”

“No he didn’t.”

“He did so—the weekend we had the Harry Potter marathon. He said he didn’t mind if you two hooked up but Chan is apparently stressed the fuck out about it. He got all broody when Minho confronted him. Apparently he thinks you’re too innocent for him.”

When you said nothing your friend smiled and undid a button on your polo shirt. “You got this.” She said, before turning and marching out of the bathroom. You looked down at your cleavage peeking out the top of your shirt then looked in the dirty mirror, “I’ve got this.” You followed your friend.

“I can’t believe you! You’re being a bitch.” She spun around when you were in earshot of the two men leaning against the car. Right, the fight.

“Oh stop being dramatic for once in your life.”

“Dramatic?” She took a few steps towards you—her back to the car—and poked you in the chest, winking at you as she did. “I’ll show you dramatic.”

“Hey! What’s going on?” Chan was walking towards you both.

“She’s being a total fucking bitch! I’m not sharing a tent with her.” Your friend marched past him towards your brother.

“What?” Chan reached where you were standing. “What happened?”

“She’s being dramatic, I didn’t do anything.” You took a step towards him and watched his eyes drop to your cleavage before snapping back to your face.

“Alright, well just… let’s just go. We have to get there before it gets dark.” He held his hand out towards the car, prompting you to take the lead. Your brother was still learning against the driver's door.

“You good?”

“Yeah, just a stupid fight. It’s fine.” You pulled the back door open and your brother turned to do the same. “If you say so,” he muttered.

When Chan was climbing into the backseat you undid one more button before climbing in after him, making no attempt to ensure your skirt was tucked under your ass as you did. You pushed yourself back against him, your ass directly over his crotch this time.

“You all good back there?” Your brother asked as he started the car.

“Yeah, I'm comfortable.” You answered, catching the corner of your friend's mouth curve up.

Chan’s hand’s went straight to your waist. “You sure?”

“Mm.” You leaned your head back against his shoulder, giving him a clear view down your shirt. “Kinda tired though.”

He cleared his throat, “Only 20 minutes left, we can set up the tents straight away.” He reassured you, then louder he asked your brother. “20 minutes right?”

“Yeah, more like 30 actually.”

“30.” Chan repeated, hands dropping from your waist.

“I’m not too heavy am I?” you asked.

“No, I just– No, you’re fine.”

“Fine?”

“Perfect. You’re perfect.”

Chan had sat dead still until you’d climbed out of the car at the campsite, hands remaining at his side. Sana had kept her act up, refusing to talk to you and repeating her refusal to share a tent with you. No one had suggested swapping yet and you’d helped your brother set up one of the tents while the other two worked on the other. The guys had gone to grab some stuff from the car while you and Sana set up the site.

“We might have to revert to my plan,” you said, both of you on speaking terms again as long as the men were out of earshot.

“Your plan?” Your friend asked, unfolding one of the camping chairs.

“Knocking Chan out and dragging him into the woods.”

She sighed. “They’ll suggest swapping. If Minho doesn’t, Chan will. I saw his face the last 10 minutes before we arrived; he looked like he was in physical pain.”

“Maybe he was. It probably hurt having me on his lap for an hour.”

“I noticed you undid another button.” Your friend gave you a knowing look.

“Shut up.”

She laughed, then looked past your shoulder. “Oh fuck, they’re coming back. Look upset.”

“If this works, I'm using it in my speech at your wedding.”

“Now I've got you talking about our wedding.”

“I’ll swap with you,” Minho suggested, much to your friends' chagrin.

“No offence, but I'm not sharing a tent with Chan.” Your friend crossed her arms across her stomach. “I don’t know you well enough for that…sorry.”

“Right well, me and you then.” Minho pointed between himself and Sana.

“Alright,” she sounded suitably neutral about it.

“Wait-” Chan sat forward in the camping chair.

“It’s okay,” You touched his arm, reaching over from where you were sitting next to him. “Really. I don’t mind.”

His eyes flicked between yours a few times and then he leant back and returned his can to his lips. You watched his throat as he swallowed.

“I’m going for a walk.” You stood up.

“Alone? It’s getting dark,” Minho said. He was leaning over the fire, turning the meat he was cooking.

“I won’t be long.”

“I’ll come.” Chan stood from his chair, dropping his empty can into the plastic bag beside him.

“I was just going to go down and have a look at the beach.” You watched as he grabbed a black cap from his bag, smoothing his hair back and putting it on backwards—keeping the hair off his forehead. He’d grown it out a little recently. It flopped over his forehead in curls. You often had to resist the urge to brush it out of his eyes.

“Sweet, I wanted to take a look anyway.” He looked up, catching you watching him. You turned and marched quickly towards the dirt track that led to the beach.

“Do you think I'm pretty?” You’d been sitting silently on the beach, watching the sun go down over the horizon.

Chan’s hand froze where he’d been drawing patterns in the sand. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Minho’s always gotten so much attention from girls… and then there’s me…” While your brother had never been in a serious relationship, he’d had plenty of options. In high school you’d known multiple girls who had openly asked you about him—if he was single.

“You… you really shouldn’t be talking to me about this.”

“Why?”

“You’re…I mean you’re… my best friend’s little sister. I can’t talk about this with you.” He looked out over the orange horizon. “We should get back.” He stood, holding his hand out for you. “The food’s probably getting cold.”

“I do think you’re pretty.” Chan's voice broke the heavy silence in the tent. Your friend had helped Minho with the dishes and then promptly put on a show of being exhausted and disappearing into the tent—Minho following shortly after. You were definitely going to be teasing them about this at their wedding.

“You do?” You didn’t move as you spoke, keeping your gaze fixed to the roof of the tent.

“Of course I do. I shouldn’t…at least, I shouldn’t be telling you I do.”

“I won’t tell.” You rolled onto your side, watching him stare at the roof—hands supporting his head. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, the sides open down to his last rib. “It’s my brother, isn't it? He’s why you think you shouldn't tell me.”

“It’s not just that.” You watch his chest rise and fall, waiting for him to continue. “You’re too… sweet. You aren’t for me.”

You sat up before speaking, “You don’t want me?”

His hands moved from behind his head to cover his face. He groaned. “Fuck. Stop doing this to me… please.”

“Doing what?”

He sat up abruptly. “This.” He gestured broadly. “All of it. Looking like that, speaking to me like that. I can’t have you, you aren’t mine. I can’t have you. Stop… making it harder for me.”

“You can.” You moved your hand to his arm slowly, as if he might spook. “I want to be yours.” You crawled into his lap, his eyes locked onto yours. “Please.” He reached up and touched your lips with his thumb, finger tucked under your chin.

“You’re torturing me,” he whispered.

“Please,” you repeated. His thumb pushed between your lips, his eyes fixed on them. Pulling his thumb from your mouth he traced down your neck with his fingers, stopping at the neck of your t-shirt. You brought your lips to his softly, barely touching. “Please,” you repeated again.

Before you could process what was happening his hands were holding your head and he was pressing his mouth into yours desperately. “Shouldn’t,” he muttered into your mouth, “I can't do this.” He wrapped his arms around you and laid you down onto his sleeping bag, mouth remaining attached to yours. “Shouldn’t…” He kept muttering to himself until you felt him start to grind himself into you, “Too sweet… aren’t you… too sweet for me… fuck… have to stop…” He made no move to stop, and when you reached down to pull his shirt over his head, he let you—attacking your mouth again as soon as he was free. “This okay?” Kiss. “Tell me to stop.” Kiss. “Should stop.”

“Don’t. Please.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping him against you.

“You have to be quiet, hm? Stay nice and quiet for me, sweetheart.” He grabbed at the hem of your oversized t-shirt, pulling it up over your bare breasts. “Fuck.” He covered each of your tits with his hands. “Fuck, can’t do this.” He moved his mouth to lick your skin between each breast, and then he moved to sucking on each nipple. “Sweet… knew you were sweet.” He pulled his mouth away and started massaging your breasts as he was speaking, “Saw these down your shirt while you were on my lap. Did you know? I shouldn’t have looked… couldn’t help it…”

“Channie… please…”

“Shhh.. shhh.. i’ve got you… don’t want the others to hear us do we? Hm?” He reached into your underwear, fingers moving through your folds. “Bet you’re sweet down here too…” He moved down your body and pulled your shorts down your legs slowly—kissing the skin on your thighs as he went. “Can I have a taste? Want to taste you… wanted to taste you for years…”

“I want you inside…” You pulled at his hair.

“Can’t. No condom.” He said, sounding distracted as he pulled your shorts off your legs.

“I have some.”

He snapped his eyes to yours. “You… you brought condoms?”

“I-I wasn’t going too. I just thought-” He crawled up your body and leaned over you to press his lips to your neck. “Naughty girl,” he whispered. “You gonna let me fuck you? Let me have you?”

“My bag… they… they’re in my bag.”

“Fuck… I shouldn’t…” He lifted his head to look into your eyes. You lifted your arm to brush the hair away from his eyes and lifted your head so you could kiss his lips softly. “I’m going to hell.” He muttered, then crawled over to your bag. “Where are they?”

“In a small red pouch, in the pocket on the side.” You watched him dig through the bag.

He crawled back over to you, red pouch in his hand. “Tell me to stop now. We can stop now. I can stop.”

“No.” You sat up and pulled your shirt over your head then you sat back on your ass so you could wiggle your underwear down before pulling them off your legs and throwing them to the side. Chan was silent. You turned yourself so he was between your legs and watched his face as you slowly parted your knees. His eyes fixed themselves on your cunt. You reached down and stroked your finger through your folds.

He fell forward onto his elbows, breath tickling you as he spoke, “pretty…” he kissed your cunt, “little…,” another kiss, “pussy… so sweet…” he dragged his tongue through your folds—you whined. His hand covered your mouth, “Shhhh…. sweetheart… stay nice and quiet for me. Gonna fuck you, promise—just need to taste you first.” You moaned into his palm as he made out with your cunt, the slurping sounds he was making turning your cheeks pink. Thank God the tents weren't directly next to each other. It would be a miracle if the other two hadn’t heard anything even from the distance they were at. You were squirming and grabbing at his hair, struggling to stay quiet. He pulled his head up—releasing your mouth so you could answer him when he spoke, “You want me to fuck you? Tell me.”

“I-I want you… to fuck me, please.”

“Yeah?” He grabbed the small red pouch and opened it, “Watch me put this on, sweetheart.” Pulling a single wrapped condom out of the pouch, he tore it open—then looking up to see you still on your back, he prompted you again. “Come on, watch me.” He was kneeling—you propped yourself up on your elbows so you could see him. “Look at my cock. See how it’s all hard for you, hm?” You watched him stroke himself. “Look at what you’ve done to me.” He rolled the condom down himself. “Can you be quiet for me? Or do I need to cover your mouth again?” He began rubbing the tip of his cock over your cunt, eyes fixed on where he was preparing to enter you.

“I can be quiet.”

“Good girl.” He pushed into you, his body falling over yours as he bottomed out. “Fuck… thought about this all day… thought about pushing your little panties aside and fucking my cock into you while you sat on my lap.” He sat back on his heels so he could watch where you were joined—resting his palm on your lower stomach. “I’m inside you, sweetheart. Your little pussy feels so good around me, just like I knew it would.”

“Were you really thinking that in the car?”

He looked up to your face then slowly pulled himself out to the tip and entered you again. You gripped his hand where it was resting on your stomach. “I did. Does it make you feel naughty? Sitting on my lap like that when I was thinking such bad things…” He started fucking into you, hard and fast enough that your tits bounced with each thrust. “Fuck, look at your pretty tits. I’m going to fucking hell. I’m fucked.” He covered your body with his again, his face hovering over yours. You watched the chain around his neck swing as he moved. “I can’t have you just once… you’re mine now, right? Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours… Chan… i’m-”

“Mine.” His elbows framed your head, trapping you beneath him. He dropped his mouth to yours, grinding himself into you. “So sweet,” he murmured into your mouth, “my sweetheart, hm?” He reached down to your clit, “Need you to milk my cock, sweetness… cum around my cock… wanna feel you clench around me… go on��.” you covered your mouth with your own hands as you came, attempting to stifle the sound. He groaned, “Fuck, that’s it.” He sat back on his heels again and gripped your hips, fucking himself into you—his eyes fixed on your tits. “Gonna keep you… have to keep you now, sweetheart…” He closed his eyes as he came, his hips stuttering into you as he attempted to draw it out.

You reached down to grab one of his hands as he pulled himself out of you, “Did you mean it?” you asked, breathing still erratic. He dropped down beside you, staring up at the roof again. You listened to him pant as he caught his breath, then he spoke, “Yeah, I'm keeping you.”

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #x reader

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solar-wing · 5 months

Text

⚣ Holidays with the Waynes 🦃

⚣🦃 A/N → This idea came randomly, conveniently after Thanksgiving. To everyone that celebrates, Happy Turkey Day (he said about two weeks late) and Indigenous People's Remembrance Day. Also, everyone congratulate me. I finally made a fic under 1000 words. I almost made it longer to but stopped myself. This is why it takes so long to get posts out of me. Just when I think I'm done, I add more. WARNINGS: none. just typical Wayne chaoticness

⚣🦃 Summary → His life is like a reality show and every day is a new episode, with the holidays being their own specials. So, when a classmate asks him how his Thanksgiving was, how does the youngest Wayne son even come up with a response?

⚣🦃 Words → 622

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦃

“So, Y/N, how was your Thanksgiving?”

What a loaded question.

*cue the flashback ripples*

“Damian, why is the turkey in my bedroom?” The youngest Wayne asked after entering the kitchen and finding his half-brother sitting at the island.

“Master Y/N, if you’re going to be eating in your room, I do ask you put a cover over your sheets to avoid crumbs and stains, please,” Alfred said while seasoning one of the various dishes for their dinner.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s not like that. It’s–” Y/N tried to explain before stopping himself after Damian sent him a glare, warning him not to utter another word or else, “It’s just that I sometimes get after-dinner cravings and don’t feel like making the trip to the kitchen. Won’t happen again, though.”

Alfred gave him a suspicious look after glancing at Damian who was avoiding his gaze, before nodding his head and continuing his food preparations. The two brothers both looked at each other before the youngest nodded his head towards the door, making his way out of the kitchen while trying not to act even more suspicious knowing the butler was watching his every move.

Damian quickly moved in tow behind his brother, following him to one of the sitting rooms. A cautious measure to ensure they were out of earshot.

“Next time, scan the room before you start blabbing off as you usually do,” Damian said, his usual annoyed and slightly threatening squint in his eyebrows.

“I do not blab, thank you very much,” Y/N said, his hands on his hips and breath huffing out, showing his clear offense to his brother’s statement.

“History would beg to differ.”

Y/N scoffed with an eye roll, “Whatever. Why is the school’s Thanksgiving turkey mascot currently nesting in my room?”

“I overheard one of the faculty members talking about how good the animal was going to taste on their plates come Thanksgiving dinner, and I refused to let an innocent animal be subjected to such brutality.”

“Okay, but you can’t just kidnap the turkey, Damian! Let alone hide it in my room!”

“First, his name is Tiny. Please, give him the respect of using his name. Second, he’s happier and more relaxed in your room. I think he enjoys your color scheme.” Damian said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I–... Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were a Kardashian.”

“Less authentic and more plastic. Also, you know how Father feels about that family, especially the mother. And, how would you feel if someone tried to chop off your head and limbs so you could be put on a platter that serves 6-10?” The Boy Wonder questioned, mirroring his brother’s body language with his hands on his hips.

“Damian, you literally chased me around the house with your sword last Tuesday.”

“I thought we were playing tag.”

“Who plays tag with a sword?!”

“People who don’t want to get tagged.”

“I–... No words. None whatsoever.”

“Does this mean you’ll let Tiny room with you tonight?”

“Fine.”

For the rest of that Thanksgiving break, Y/N spent it with a roommate who would wake him up at the ass crack of dawn with a series of short, noisy clucks. The youngest Wayne had to explain to his father that he was listening to a new LO-FI relaxing tracks of bird sounds to help him relax.

He received many strange looks from his various family members.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Holidays with my family are pretty lame. Anyway, what about your family?” Y/N answered, lying straight through his two front teeth.

Holidays with his family were never lame, but also never normal.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️| Masterlists | ☀️

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uglypastels · 7 months

Note

okok I've had this idea brewing in my filthy mind for a few days so imagine sanji discovering camgirl! Strawhat reader and becomes kinda obsessed?? Maybe one day she wears something of his(maybe a ring or his shirt) live and he goes absolutely feral and has his way with her??😵😵💫

I took out the camgirl aspect because I just wasn't sure how to incorporate it into the universe?? (I'm still new to it, so trying to figure out the dos and don'ts haha.) but I hope it's still good.

masterlist | inbox - requests open

reminder that reblogs and comments are the best way to support writers on Tumblr

warning: 18+ content. MDNI. simp sanji. masturbation. suggestive language and actions. light biting.

Laundry Day.

'Can someone remind me again whose brilliant idea it was to fight the giant squid?' You looked down at yourself, stiff as a board, as you felt every inch of your body to be sticky with black ink.

When you looked up again, the rest of the crew had all found a sudden interest in the most mundane parts of the ship, not daring to meet your deadly glare.

'Thought so,' you mumbled. 'I'm gonna go change.' Awkwardly, you made your way downstairs to the bathroom to try and wash off the black goo the sea monster had spewed onto you. You scrubbed for what felt like an hour, with the stains just never seeming to seize. The water poured down your body, slowly turning from a black abyss into a drabby grey until it finally recovered to its natural clear state, and the smell of fish was exchanged for your hair conditioner and body scrub.

stupid. fucking. squid. You kicked around your thoughts as you got out of the shower, nearly falling over in the process.

Too tired to cross the ship to your room, you instead walked to the small laundry cabin that was next to the bathroom and picked up the first pair of shorts you found and a button-up shirt to throw on.

You had thought it was one of yours, always being fond of having some larger piece of attire to throw over a short sleeve, but you soon realised your mistake when you entered the kitchen.

Sanji was in the middle of setting some water to boil, glancing up at you from his work with a soft smile. That smile then quickly froze in what you could only describe as a shock.

'I know I look like a mess,' you sighed, reaching over to the cupboard where the crew kept their hardest liquor. The day just called for a shot. Or three.

'Not the words I would use.' Sanji said, the clicking of the gas stove intercepting him, 'Is that- is that my shirt?'

You glanced down, noticing the blue striped pattern on the material and the actual tailoring of the shirt as opposed to the ones you were used to wearing.

You cursed under your breath. 'Sorry. I'll go change.' You began unrolling the sleeves, already seeing how they started to crease.

'No,' Sanji coughed out. 'It's fine. Honestly.'

'You sure?' You looked up at him apprehensively, but he just shrugged and continued on cooking.

You poured yourself a drink and made yourself comfortable opposite Sanji, enjoying the show that was his meal prep.

'Where's everyone else?' you asked as he began chopping up vegetables.

'Uhm, probably sleeping off the squid,' he chuckled, focused on the ingredients. As he kept going, you realised his answers kept getting shorter and shorter with each question. What usually would be full of quips and flirtatious remarks was cut down, blunt, like the edge of a dull knife.

And at first you had brushed it aside as him concentrating on his craft, but the longer he cooked, the more noticeable it was how he avoided your gaze. Even when talking, he didn't dare look up.

'Are you really ok with me wearing this?' You asked eventually when he was done and washing his hands in the sink.

'Of course, darlin',' he wiped his hands on a towel. He was about to turn around, but you saw the moment as your chance and swiftly slithered by his side. He stumbled back slightly in surprise.

'So why have you been ignoring me for the past hour?'

'I haven't,' he slipped by you elegantly and got to packing up the prepared food into storage boxes.

'But you have-- you didn't even look at me until now.'

'Sorry, sweetheart. I was working.' Usually, his saying something like that would make you think things were back to normal, but he seemed nervous, and before you could say anything else, he excused himself to his cabin.

Confused and a bit flustered at the sudden departure, you stood in the kitchen for a moment. You had planned on going upstairs, to get some fresh air, when Luffy stormed into the room.

'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'glad to see you're back to your ink-free self.'

'Yeah, thanks, Luf.' You took another shot quickly and watched as the captain raided all the cupboards. 'Watcha looking for there?'

'The tangerine cookies that Sanji made yesterday. There should still be some here.' He stretched his arm out to pat around the back of the highest drawer.

'You sure you didn't eat them yet?'

'Nooo,' Luffy looked at you sternly. 'Because I put them there specifically so I wouldn't eat them earlier.'

'Right,' you nodded. 'Well, Sanji had been busy around here, prepping lunch for tomorrow; maybe he moved some things around,' you suggested. 'You could go and ask him.'

'Aaah, I could,' Luffy wavered, 'but I was hoping to do this without Sanji's help.'

'Did he ban you from the kitchen again?' After the last incident of Lufft stuffing himself full of snacks right before dinner, the cook had given him strict orders not to eat an hour before meals. Looking at the clock, you could see it was closing in on dinner time.

Luffy scoffed, which only confirmed your assumptions. With a sigh, you got up. 'Fine, I'll ask him. But he might be asleep, you know.'

'Thanks. You're the best.' Luffy said, arm the length of the room as he opened cupboard after cupboard. You just rolled your eyes and made your way to Sanji's cabin.

'Hey, Sanji,' you knocked softly, unsure if he had maybe decided to take a nap. With no response from the other side of the door, you tried again. You thought to just let it go and leave him be, but then you heard the clashing of the pans in the kitchen, followed by a Luffy 'I'm ok!' and knew that you needed an answer for your captain. These were desperate times.

'Hey, Sanji,' you opened the door. The only thing you had really seen was the shape of his body splayed out on the bed, and it was more of an instinct or a gut reaction that told you that you should not look any further. So, quickly apologising, you shut the door again as Sanji cursed out in shock at the door opening.

'Sorry!' You shouted through the door, simultaneously trying to comprehend the blurs of your vision and trying to forget anything you might have seen. He wasn't... no, that wasn't... no.

There was some stumbling coming from his room, followed by a few more curse words. You didn't know why you were still standing beside his door, but he certainly didn't expect you to have stayed there, and so, when he entered the corridor, your bodies practically collided.

'I didn't see anything!' You blurted out before Sanji could say anything. Both your faces were wide in horror. 'I swear- I just,' you made the mistake of taking his appearance in. His shirt was untucked from his trousers, belt unbuckled and hanging at his sides. Oh god. 'I just... I was wondering where the tangerine cookies were. The ones you made yesterday.'

He was still hard. Most of it was hidden by the layers of clothing, but there was no denying it. You did your best to keep your eyes on his face as he listened to you blurt out words like a maniac, but it sure was difficult as all the puzzle pieces came together.

'They should be in the left cabinet, bottom shelf. Behind the baking ingredients. I hid them so Luffy wouldn't eat them before dinner.'

'Good thinking,' you laughed, probably a bit too loud for the situation, but the nerves were getting worse by the second. 'Well, bye then.' And with that, you ran off to the kitchen, leaving Sanji in all his unspeakable glory behind.

In the kitchen, you were met with Luffy picking up the pans he had dropped and Nami looking at him with what could only be described as disappointment. Without acknowledging them, you walked over to the left cabinet, opened the bottom half of it and searched the bottom shelf for the box of leftover cookies, slamming them onto the counter. Luffy immediately lunged forward to them, oblivious to your shocked state, but the navigator was a bit more perceptive.

'What happened to you?' she asked, declining the offer of a cookie from the captain, who already had two in his mouth.

'Nothing,' you shook your head.

'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'I didn't! I didn't see anything!' Nope, nothing at all. You definitely did not see that. Or how big it was... or how his hand looked wrapped around it... or his face when he- NO.

'Hey, is that Sanji's shirt?' Now, Luffy decided to be observant. You looked down at your shirt as if you had only now noticed what you were wearing.

'Oh, I guess it is.'

'He must be having a field day with that,' Nami snickered, to which you looked at her confused. She, in turn, rolled her eyes 'Like you haven't seen the way he looks at you on a regular day.'

'I- no?' you blinked, trying to grapple with what she was talking about.

Nami just shrugged before grabbing the last cookie from Luffy's hand and walking out of the room. If you thought he would be aware of anything that you had just talked about, you would have asked the captain if he knew what Nami meant by her comments but instead just contemplated on it all by yourself.

Against all your survival instincts, you walked back in the direction of Sanji's door and knocked again. This time loud and clear. There was shuffling coming from the other side, and a second later, the door opened to reveal Sanji. His lips were pulled in a tight line of a smile as he looked down at you.

'Hey, can I come in?' you asked softly.

'What?' Sanji asked before the initial question properly connected in his mind. 'Uhh, I don't think that's a great idea.'

'Sanj, we should talk about what happened earlier.'

'Do we, though?' His voice raised in pitch nervously, but you just glared up at him, unimpressed.

'Sanji, please just let me come inisde.' You pushed out any thought that just burst through your mind that did not have to do with the current situation, but it was hard to see the images of what you saw in his room before were still very much playing over and over in your head.

In the end, Sanji gave in and opened the door for you. As you walked in, he stayed behind you, hand running nervously through his hair, as he spoke: 'Listen, I'm really sorry about... everything that happened today, really.'

'You have nothing to be sorry for.' You turned to face him. 'I'm the one that stole your shirt and stormed into your room unannounced.' It was his room. He had the right to do whatever he pleased in it.

Sanji laughed awkwardly, looking away to the far side of the room, but even then, you caught how his eyes glanced and slightly lingered over your body. The blue-striped shirt still hanging over it.

You, in the meantime, fought the urge to look at his body, combined with the memory of what you had caught him doing.

Maybe it was the few shots you had taken earlier to forget about the giant squid attack that instead did nothing you had hoped for but only made you bolder as you asked: 'were you thinking about me?'

'What?'

'You know, earlier. When I walked in. Were you... thinking of me?'

'Shit, don't make me say it.' He combed his fingers through his hair. You walked over to him, closing the gap between you lightly.

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to make things weird between us.' His jaw clenched as you came towards him, and you couldn't help but laugh at what he had to say.

'Oh, it's definitely too late for that now. Things are already weird.'

'Super weird, aren't they?' he asked softly, strangely intensely.

And so, when you responded, your agreeing words were only as hushed as he had been, too focused on each other's proximity. The two of you stood there, frozen between actions, taking each other's bodies in at the new lack of distance until Sanji took the final step over the edge, kissing you with his hands on cupping your cheeks.

You stumbled back at the force, steadying yourself when you caught onto the shirt he was wearing. One of his hands moved down to your waist, guiding you to his bed until the back of your knees hit the wood, and you lightly fell back.

Sanji placed himself over you, and as his weight pressed over you, you could feel his hard-on through his trousers. A curse fell from his lips when you reached for it and your fingertips moved over the material.

'You've been drivin' me insane the whole day, walkin' around in that shirt.' He said as he began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

'Figured,' you couldn't but be a bit smug about it, which he did not seem to appreciate given the pinch of his teeth you felt on your sensitive skin.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer to you, trying to get some, friction out of the movement as he pressed himself against you.

'Cocky are we?' He smiled into his kisses, and at this point, all you could do was nod in agreement.

Sanji kept himself up over you with one hand as he used the other to unzip your shorts. One-handed and without a clear view, taking them off turned out to be a bit more of a challenge, far more awkward than expected when you tried to shuffle out of them, but his touch on your skin made up for it by tenfold.

You were about to make a start on unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing when Sanji stopped you. 'No, keep it on.' and kissed you before you could make any other snarky remark on his behalf. But when he pulled away again, though slightly dazed by the passion, you still managed to comment.

'If this is the treatment I receive for stealing your clothes, I might just do it more often.'

To this, Sanji groaned through his teeth. 'You're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart, I swear.

#sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji fanfiction #sanji fanfic #sanji smut #sanji fluff #sanji fic #one piece fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #fluff #fic #request

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toxicanonymity · 9 months

Text

birds of prey (one shot)

2600 words, dark RAIDER!tommy x f!reader

Summary: Tommy recently joined the raiding group that killed everyone in your family. When the group comes back to claim the house for their own use, he finds you in the basement. A/N: This is a DIFFERENT READER, not joel's reader. I wanna introduce raider!Tommy before raider joel crosses paths with him (we're not there yet). THANK YOU @dark-scape for the group name, symbol, and soundboard. Also to @romanarose for requesting Tommy in raider!Joel. WARNINGS!!: I8+ mdni, extremely dubious consent unsafe P in V and oral M receiving, dirty talk, pet names, dark/toxic affection- do not be fooled, degradation. NO USE OF Y/N.

The raiders first came a week ago and killed everyone but you–they never found you in the basement. They took everything they could use, so you aren't sure why they're back, but in your gut you know it's them when you hear the tires on gravel. You make your way down to the basement again. The entry is through a closet floor and it looks like more of a crawl space until you climb down into it. You told everyone it’d be safest there, but they thought if they begged for their lives and let them take everything, the men might be reasonable.

The short, dirty window at the top of the wall is open and their voices make your stomach turn.

"Den's big enough, got a kitchen 'n all. Hell, wood's already chopped." They laugh and the door handle jiggles. "Locked?"

"What? Y'all lock it when ya left?"

"Didn't think so."

They bust down the door.

"So this is it," a new voice announces calmly. "The new nest."

Someone corrects him, "That's lame, man. You don't gotta call it that when he's not around."

"Takes this Birds of Prey shit too literally," another man agrees.

They start showing the new guy around.

One of the men asks, "think the big guy'll like it?"

After a moment of silence, someone says "let's talk about the big guy. " It sounds like they're planning a coup. They agree to find somewhere in the house to hide the loot and leave one man behind to guard it overnight. They break up to look for a hiding place.

—-

Inevitably, the door to your space opens. "Crawlspace," the new voice says. Then he steps down. It’s just him. He hunches over and walks until the ceiling is higher. You're huddled in the corner under a desk. He scuffs his boot on the ground and a huge layer of dust gets kicked up. He looks around for a minute and says "alright, alright," to himself. You can only see his boots. Your nose tickles from the dust and you're trying to stave off a sneeze. When his boots turn back toward the door, You're relieved. But you can't keep the tickle at bay. You squeak ever so quietly into your shoulder, then the boots turn in your direction.

Your heart goes to your throat as the man slowly crouches down. Mustache, long, dark hair, denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Heavily tattooed, though you can’t make anything out. He raises his eyebrows and his lips purse in bemusement. He clasps his large hands and says “Well hey there,” like he’s speaking to a child.

You’re silent.

“What are ya doin’ down here?”

“It’s my house,” you say.

He nods thoughtfully and his brows knit apologetically, but his voice doesn’t match. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says ominously. “My friends said it’s our house, now.” He frowns exaggeratedly.

Your eyes sting with the dusty air and you realize you’ve had your eyes wide and not blinked this entire time.

"MILLER WHERE THE HELL ARE YA," someone yells.

He sighs and stands up.

“Don’t tell them,” you beg.

“Why wouldn’t I,” he asks, still standing up, out of view.

“I’ll do anything,” you say.

“Anything,” he repeats, then sighs. “Wouldn’t’ve taken ya for that kinda girl. Looked like an angel to me.”

“MILLER!!!!”

“Please,” you beg.

“We’ll see,” he says curtly then turns around and leaves. When he gets up the stairs and opens the door, he announces he found a crawlspace that’ll work.

—----

They unload the stuff, then someone asks, “Who’s stayin’?”

“New guy,” someone says.

“Can ya handle it, Miller?” another voice asks. “Place like this might get spooky at night.”

The men chuckle.

“I’m good,” Miller says.

“That’s the spirit, Tommy boy.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

—

Tommy starts bringing crates down, and the men get ready to leave. They continue to talk amongst themselves upstairs on their way out. Tommy crouches down to look at you, a little closer this time, about two meters away. He smiles at you then sits on the floor with his hands behind him, not saying anything. As the men leave, you both overhear their crude banter. Tommy looks at the window as he listens.

"Think she's ready for more?"

"I call back door first." Your heart drops thinking about whoever’s waiting for them back where they came from.

"Shit, you can have it. D'ya see the lips on her?" There’s no way she’s willingly waiting for this disgusting group of men.

"I wanna see what Tommy boy can do to that pussy."

“Not tonight!” one says and they laugh.

"He doesn't have it in'm," another one says.

Tommy seems to bristle at this. Then he dons a subtle smirk, looks at you, and slowly sucks in air though his teeth like he's breaking some bad news. "'m afraid I do," he nods. "Just don’t like sharin’." He sighs. His nose twitches and you don’t like it. He’s pensive, like he has something to prove. He says, “Hope they don’t do ya like that once they find ya.”

You hug your knees and bury your head to cry. “What do you want,” you ask.

“Why don’t ya come on out for a start.”

You look at him. He’s not moving from his position. He nods toward the wall as though to give you permission to sit away from him. He watches you like a hawk as you slowly crawl, still sniffling, and you sit against the wall with your legs out.

“Good girl,” he says gently, then begins to get up. You flinch when he stands, but he takes the chair from the desk and turns it to face you. He sits in it, only about a meter away now. At this distance, you can see his freckles and the sparkle in his eyes and you hate to admit it, but he’s pretty good looking. You look at each other for a few seconds. Apparently he’s thinking the same thing. “Pretty, too. Aren’t ya, angel?”

He leans back and his chest puffs out as he takes off his denim jacket. “Too hot for this,” he mutters and throws it onto the desk. His t-shirt lets you see how strong his chest and arms are as he settles back into the chair and manspreads with his hands on his thighs. One of his hands has a fresh tattoo of a talon on it. His jeans are ripped below the one knee. “So you’ll do anything, huh,” he says contemplatively. He smooths his hair and looks at the window, then around the room. “Guess I’ve got all night to find out what that means.”

You consider your options. If he really doesn’t like sharing, giving yourself to him is your best shot at staying secret from the other men.

“Can I have some water,” you ask.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, what else ya want? A cheeseburger?” He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and leaves. He doesn’t come back for hours.

You’re tired. So tired. It’s been the worst week of your life, and that’s saying a hell of a lot. You’re too tired to fight, too tired to even care what he might do to you. You fall asleep.

—--------

You wake up to the sound of boots thudding down the stairs. It’s dark out now. “Got lost, sorry,” he booms. He’s carrying a short crate that has a lantern, a jug of water, a bottle of whiskey, and some jerky. He sets the crate down on the desk. He puts the water jug next to your feet, and he lingers. He squats down and caresses your cheek with his knuckle. You smell his sweat and you smell he’s been drinking. His lips part as he looks at you, and you try to ignore the sparkle in his eyes in the lamp light. He’s sweaty, and his masculine smell makes you tingle. He offers you some jerky with a little smile but you say, “no thank you.”

“Those manners,” he whispers with a smile. His mustache twitches charmingly. He takes off his boots and sits next to you on the wall and his large hand engulfs your thigh. He wets his lips and looks at you. “What are we gonna do?” he asks softly.

“Just tell me what you want,” you whine.

He shakes his head no. “I wanna know what you want.”

“I wanna live, I wanna not be gang banged, I want my family back, I want-” you start to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he gets up on his knees and forces you into a consoling embrace. You cry into his shirt and he says “Shhhhh, shhhhhh.” He pats your head. “You’re not gonna get gang banged if you’re mine, I promise.”

The most unsettling mix of relief and dread floods your upper body. Your lower body, meanwhile, is all warmth and tingling. Oh, god. He hugs you into his hair which smells like cigarettes, campfire, and something sour. “C’mere,” he says, and uses your hair to pull your head back slightly, gently. Enough to look at your face.

----

He dips his head, and at first all you can do is watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows. But then his face drifts toward yours, and you tense in anticipation. He closes his eyes and kisses you. His lips are plush and gentle. Your lips remain firm and still until they don’t. When his tongue brushes the seam of your lips, they let him in. Your mouths are connected for a good thirty seconds before he breaks the kiss and looks at you. Then he wraps his hands around your back and lifts you up onto your knees so you’re both kneeling on the cold concrete as he licks into your mouth. He wraps his arms around you tight and attacks your mouth with his again, with more fervor this time, his suction making your lips tingle.

His cock hardens against you. He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath against the side of your mouth. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him, pressing his hardness into you. He sighs.

Then he lets go of your ass and his hands come between you. He urgently unbuttons and unzips your jeans, then pulls them down. You feel like there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, so you obediently take them off as he removes his own without taking his eyes off you. “Those too,” he nods at your panties. As you remove them, the damp cotton is cool against your inner thigh and you realize how wet you are. Warmth rushes to your face.

----

“C’mere, angel,” he whispers, and he sits down in his boxers. He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, hovering, at first. He reaches between your legs and groans as his fingers meet your wetness. He gazes at you with wonder in his eyes. “Beautiful girl.” He looks down and watches his hand as he slides his fingers through your folds, front and back. His strong chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He pulls you by the ass, grinding your crotch into the massive tent in his boxers and the contact makes you twitch. “Fuck,” he sighs when your loins are pressed up against each other. He makes space to get his cock out and you try not to stare. It’s thick. Suddenly, you’re salivating. You wet your lips and he notices.

“Lemme put it here, first,” he says softly and rubs your cunt. “Okay?” He nods for you as he positions you over his cock and notches himself for entry. He’s waiting for your go-ahead like it means something. You offer an almost imperceptible nod, then he pulls you down hard on his cock with a groan. You gasp as his girth parts your walls.

“Then—ohhh—then ya can suck it,” he says. He lifts his hips. “Maybe.” He moves you on his cock. “Shit this feels good.” He holds you close and wraps an arm around you. He moves his hips forward from the wall with a sharp thrust up into you. He gets enough space to lean back a little and pull you against his chest for leverage, with enough clearance to fuck up into you. “Yeah, ohh shit.” As your body adjusts to his girth, your eyes close in pleasure. His thrusts are sharp and deep. He’s strong, so strong the way he holds you. Tension knots in your gut as his girth fills you up over and over.

“Ride it, baby. C’mere.” He sits back down flatter against the wall again and manhandles you on his cock. “C’mon, baby.” You might as well get something out of it, so you move your hips and get close enough to him to grind your clit into his pelvis. “Aww, yeah,” he breathes, “Yeahh, like that.” He reaches for your head. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers, then pulls your face into his again. His hips rock in rhythm with yours as he fills your mouth with his tongue.

You accidentally hum “Mmm” into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to say “oh you like it, huh,” pounding into you a little harder. “You like this big cock.” Each time he fills you, you’re less and less ready for this to end. “That’s good,” he rubs his nose against your temple. “gonna get a lot of it.” He holds the back of your head and reads your eyes in the dim lamp light then kisses you again. You break the kiss with a moan, feeling yourself on the edge.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Shit yeah,” He puts both his hands on your ass and moves you on his cock, determined to fill you with every smidgen of him.

You whimper at the stretch, the sheer fullness.

“You’re there,” he says. “C’mon, baby,” his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you, filling you like you thought you might never be filled, “C’mon, angel. C’mon.” The tension snaps and you groan as your cunt spasms around his cock. “Ohhh, yeahhh, yeahhh,” Tommy says, “shit, yeah.” Your body jerks into his. “Fuckin’ beautiful."

He slows you down and sucks in a deep breath as you keep spasming. “Shit,” he sighs. He stops moving and tries to compose himself. He’s trying not to come. He pulls you off before you’re finished coming. You look at him and he’s biting his lip, his eyes are smiling, his hand is wrapped around his cock. “Now suck it for me.” He reaches up and his huge hand engulfs the back of your head. “Now,” he says more urgently. He pulls down and you oblige, reeling in aftershocks and shame.

You take his tip in your mouth and his hips lift as you suck it. He forces your head down on his cock and you gag on it. “Ohh, shit.” He pulls your head down harder then explodes against the back of your throat with a long, drawn out sigh of relief. His hot spend paints the back of your throat. You swallow it then let him slide out of your mouth.

—--

Tommy catches his breath for a moment, then puts his dick away and gets up to put on his pants. It feels abrupt, but you’re not sure what you expected. Surely not pillow talk. He towers over you as he zips up. You look up at him and he tilts his head, looking at you affectionately. Then his face changes.

“Dumb slut.”

Your stomach drops as he walks away.

-------

--------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for updates.

Joel and Tommy are not in touch. When they cross paths it will have been a long time since they saw each other.

This reader will be Tommy's and he'll gain some power in the group.

#dark!tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #raider!tommy miller #tommy miller #tommy miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller fic #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!tommy

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seeingivy · 8 months

Text

the met gala

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: the end contains some possibly triggering content. toxic man moment/unsafe situation so dni and protect ur peace if you need to.

an: fan service to the highest t. you want laufey? i'l give you laufey. you want sukuna? ill give you sukuna. did you ask for catoru gojo? no but i'll give it to you anyways. and the end is a nice yummy lil eren little fdklsfjdksljfkdlsjfkdsjk. also I changed real life met gala lore idgaf if they don't do real perfomances there bc they do now

songs mentioned: death of a bachelor by panic at the disco, seven by taylor swift, promise by laufey, and dorothea by taylor swift

previous part linked here

Eren waits for it in nervous anticipation. Because despite everything Hyla and Lana say, he knows for a fact that you won’t be staying silent. That Danny and Sareen wouldn’t let this slide and neither would you.

And it eats at him while he waits for the real response, beyond that video Connie posted of you, Mikasa, Connie, and Jean dancing to Girlfriend and your tweets about how much you loved the song.

He’s positive that a forty second video can’t be all you’re doing. People loved it and thought it was funny. But surely that can’t be it.

“I can’t believe all your friends sided with her. I thought you were close with Connie.” Lana mentions.

“I was. Before you did that.” Eren responds, clenching his jaw. He can feel anger surging through his blood, every minuscule fraction of frustration building even more - like it had been for the past three days since the awards show.

It's irritating how quick things crumble down. He figures this is what Sukuna was talking about. Because the last time he talked to Connie was when Mikasa called him and it was nothing short of irritating.

Eren’s phone rings in the middle of the night and he’s nearly scrambling out of his bed because he thinks it’s you. Nine hours after the awards show and you’ve finally gotten the chance to respond.

Except he sees Mikasa’s name flashing across the screen, accompanied with her contact picture which is you and Mikasa sleeping.

“Mika? What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you Eren?”

“Mikasa. Okay, I can ex-”

“You can explain? You can explain why you just humiliated Y/N in public? Are you serious?”

“I-I know it’s bad and she hasn’t picked up my calls and-”

“Eren. Is there something wrong with you? Because I don’t even recognize you right now. You would never do something like this, let alone to her of all people.”

“Did you just call me to yell at me Mikasa? You don’t think I feel bad enough about it already? You don’t think I would have stopped it if I had any idea it was going to happen?”

He hears the line get quieter and Mikasa murmuring over the phone, only to be met with Connie talking to him now.

“Hi Eren. It’s Connie.”

Eren sighs, the fact that Mikasa’s so put off she won’t even talk to him sitting wrong with him all together.

“Hi Con.”

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Yeah, is she okay?”

“Mika? You know her, she gets mad so fast and-”

“Not her.” Eren whispers.

“Oh. No, no that’s why we called. She won’t talk to any of us. We called to see if you would know what to do because we’re coming short on ideas.”

The words die on Eren’s tongue. The first line of defense when you get like this is always him, because he can always get you to talk.

Could always get you to talk.

“You tried Levi?”

“Yes.”

“Her brothers. You need to fly Falco and Colt out now. I’ll pay for the tickets. Get the shin ramen from the store, it’s her comfort food - put half of the spice packet in because she can’t eat it too spicy, make sure you boil the egg for six minutes because she likes it when it’s still a little runny, and chop ONLY carrots and green onions for the vegetables. And put on Spy Family, it’s her favorite show. Her favorite episode is nine, I think. It’s called Show Off How In Love You Are. ”

“Okay, that’s all great man. Really. Thanks.”

“Connie?”

“Yeah?”

The thought crosses his mind so fast and suddenly he's asking it.

“Do you hate me?” Eren asks, the whisper in his voice sounding so pitiful that he’s almost embarrassed.

“No, Eren. I could never. Just, I have to be here because she needs us right now. You get that.”

“No, no I do. Take care of her, please. Tell me how it goes.”

“Yeah man. Sure.”

Connie hangs up and the guilt eats at Eren.

Eren hears the resounding pounding of footsteps - only to be met with Myka, Hyla, and two other people he’s literally never seen before - standing in his bedroom.

The first thing he learned quickly about filming with these people? They have no concept of personal space or time.

“What?”

“Ricky and Y/N. They made a music video. Put it on.” Myka states, the group of them crawling onto Eren’s bed as he starts pulling up the video.

The thumbnail already has him sick to his stomach. It’s you kissing Ricky’s cheek. The video starts with you and Ricky’s hands, playing the piano together, and it takes Eren all but three seconds to realize that this is the horrible, gut-wrenching response he was waiting for.

His first cue? Not only are the two of you playing the piano together, but you and Ricky are wearing matching, beaded bracelets with each other’s names on them. Like the ones you and Eren have, the one he keeps on him at all times.

The camera pans up to the two of you and Ricky starts singing, which earns him a nice list of profanities from Lana at his side.

Do I look lonely? I see the shadows on my face People have told me I don't look the same Maybe I lost weight I'm playing hooky with the best of the best Put my heart on my chest so that you can see it, too I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live?

His second cue? The dress you’re wearing in the video, the one with the lace, is one he knows all too well.

“Okay so, Eren. I have to find a dress to wear for the album premiere tomorrow. And it's my first album and it's special and I want it to be perfect. Something kind of soft and casual, since it’s just going to be just fans. Can you help me pick?”

Eren nods as he flops back onto the soft plush of your bed, eyes focused on all the little pictures and knick knacks littered over the walls of your childhood bedroom. Participation awards for sports, signed letters from your teachers, and pictures of you and Colt doing karaoke.

“Ew, Eren. Don’t look at those.”

“What do you mean? You were such a cute baby.”

Eren hopes your kids don’t inherit your messy hair genes as you walk up to his side and look at the picture - of you and Colt with little pink microphones in your hand and the little plastic crown on your head.

“You know, you still do that.”

“Do what?”

“Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture.”

You roll your eyes as you gesture to the dress, asking for his opinion. Eren stands up, grabbing you by the wrist, to spin you around in the air. And he loves the sound of your laugh and how you berate him immediately after.

“Eren. Be serious. What do you think?”

“Perfect. Wear this one.”

“But it’s black - it doesn’t really fit the vibe that I wanted to go with.”

“Good point. No one should see you in this but me. Try another one on.” Eren states, placing a kiss on your neck before walking over to your bookshelf.

"You're no help." you whine.

"I'm biased. You look good in everything, sweetheart."

He’s running his hands against the spines of your books, clearly bent and broken from reading them so much as you try on the next dress.

“Love?”

“Hm?” your voice comes out, all muffled from the sound of the closet door.

“How many times have you read the Goblet of Fire? This spine is demolished.”

He feels your limbs wrap around his neck and a kiss on his cheek as you lazily murmur into his skin.

“Lots. Cedric Diggory was my first love.”

“Oh? Really?”

Eren turns around and makes it a point to pointedly glare at you, which you return with the sweetest, cheesiest of smiles as you tease him on.

“Oh, of course. I’ve always had a thing for Hufflepuffs.”

“Would you look at that? I’m a Hufflepuff too.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a Ravenclaw, Eren.”

“I was expecting you to say Slytherin.”

“No, I feel like that’s a cop-out answer. You’re intelligent, creative, and clever. Ravenclaw.”

Eren smiles as he brings his hands down to your wrists again, spinning you in the air again. He brings his hands up to your hair to tuck your hair behind your ears before responding.

“Nope. Very pretty, but too formal for something small like this.”

“I appreciate the honesty this time, mon chéri. I only have one more, so it better be the one.”

Eren leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“What was that for?”

“I love it when you speak French to me.” he whispers.

Eren watches you roll your eyes as you disappear into your closet again. He settles into the seat at your desk, flipping through the song lyrics in your bound notebook.

And he doesn’t miss the polaroids you have taped into certain pages - the one of the two of you at the vow renewal on your invisible string page and one of him at the piano on the New Year’s Day page.

“Okay, Eren. Good?”

Eren turns around to find you shyly smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back. It’s a soft white dress, with a lace neckline. Eren thinks it makes you look like an angel. He makes it a point to stand up just so he can push you onto the bed behind you and lean right over you.

“Eren.”

He leans forward and starts peppering kisses all over your cheeks and your face, leaving longer lingering ones in your neck that leave you in a fit of nervous giggles and saying his name so softly it only sets him off more.

“It should be illegal-”

Kiss.

“To look like this.”

Kiss.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Kiss.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to drive me crazy, love.”

“Am not, Eren. It’s just a dress.”

“It’s never just a dress with you. Be serious, Y/N.”

He watches your eyes go wide, a soft pink dusting your cheeks. Your hands are resting on his face and he swears they’re shaking, your arms trembling along with them. Eren brings his hand to your cheek, softly brushing across the skin once.

“Hey. What is it?” he whispers.

“You said my name.”

“I say your name all the time.”

“No, no. You always call me love or sweetheart.”

“Do you like it when I say your name, Y/N?”

He watches the blush spread across your cheeks again as you nod, the sweetest smile on your face.

“I like how you say it. Y/N.”

“I love your name. Though, it’s missing something.”

He watches you frown, the confused look spreading across your face.

“What’s that?”

“My last name at the end.” he responds, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Ew, Eren. That was so corny.”

He brings his hands down to the side of your dress, where the zipper lies and starts pulling down. He watches the shock spread on your face, immediately pulling back.

“Are you crazy? Falco and Colt are still here even if my parents aren’t.”

“Falco is sleeping over across the street. And Colt is definitely at a party and pretending not to be. Who takes limes and salt to a study session? He definitely needs those for the drinks, silly girl.” he responds, sliding the dress off your shoulders and burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving lazy kisses all over your skin.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Chelseaiswatching.” you murmur.

“Huh?”

“Chelsea is watching.” you whisper.

“Who the fuck is Chelsea?” he asks, the panic laced in his voice.

You point over his shoulder and he immediately rolls his eyes when he sees her, bringing his hands up to pinch your cheeks.

“Are you being serious? You can’t kiss me back because your stuffed animal is watching?”

“Eren. It’s weird, I’ve had her since I was a kid. And my dad bought her for me.” you whine.

“And you think she’s going to narc on you?”

“No. It’s the principle, Eren! Don’t do inappropriate things when kids or kid-like things are present.”

Eren stands up, making it a point to pick up your stuffed animal and bury it in the back of your closet before he returns, hands on his hips.

“Okay. Anything else? Do I need to put tape over your posters of Loid Forger doesn’t watch us doing it?”

“Now that you say it, it’s actually-”

“Too bad.”

And well after being tangled in the sheets together, Eren pretends not to be offended when you pull on a hoodie and immediately get out of bed and reach for your notebook and your pen instead of cuddling with him after.

You crawl back in the bed next to him, where he immediately rests his head in your lap and starts groaning. You reach forward to push the messy hair out of his face and make a mental note to cover up the purple skin on his neck later so Colt doesn’t hang you at the cross whenever he comes back.

“Did I get you that inspired that you can’t hold me right now?”

“Basically. You’re my muse, Eren.”

“What’s the song called, Y/N?”

“Dress.”

“Clever. I wonder what it’s about.” he responds, pressing kisses along your thigh, consecutively going higher with each kiss.

“Eren. Are you serious? It’s only been like ten minutes.” you respond, the nervous jittery feeling growing in your stomach.

“It’s like vitamins. Can’t go without it.”

“Do not refer to it as vitamins. And you can technically go without vitamins, if you’re like really healthy.”

“Quit being a know-it-all. You know I meant like medicine.”

“Eren.” you respond, a warning tone in your voice as you keep scribbling your lyrics out.

“You get two minutes to finish what you’re writing and then I’m throwing that book out the window.” he responds, his breath on the inside of your legs tickling you.

Eren knows you’re trying to drive him crazy and not in the way he likes. And it’s working. And Ricky’s all too agitating singing voice doesn’t make it any better.

The death of a bachelor Oh oh Seems so fitting for Happily ever after (woo) How could I ask for more? A lifetime of laughter At the expense of the death of a bachelor

Eren watches you and Ricky dancing through the streets, while Ricky sings on and on about happily ever after, and he can’t help but slam the computer shut and all but push the group of them out of his room. And when he closes the door, all he can do is cry and hope they can’t hear him.

You peek out the window and count seven black cars and fourteen different people standing on the block, anxious faces craning up with shining black cameras in their hand. You feel a hand on your shoulder and know the ice cold hands can only be Ricky.

“Hey.”

“How many?”

“Fourteen.” you groan, giving him a frown as you yank your shoulder out from under his hand and walk past him.

You head to the vanity, where you’re going to place your last finishing touches on your outfit. Ricky’s quick to follow and lean into your space, with a smirk pressed on his face.

“Ricky.”

“Yes, babe?”

“Ew. Do you need something? Or are you all up in my space for fun?”

“For fun! You smell really good.”

You make it a point to lightly shove him back, which you both laugh at as you clip on the sparkly necklace, making it a point to not move suddenly at all from this moment forward.

It would be infinitely embarrassing if you ripped the first designer dress you wore. Especially when you have to return it later.

Ricky swings his hand around you from the back and holds a cupcake in front of your face, a glimmering blue candle lit in the middle. You give him a questioning look in the mirror.

“Baby’s first Met Gala!”

You snort as you blow out the candle, taking it from his hands and pulling the wax out.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Ricky says.

“For?”

“The cupcake! And getting you invited to the Met Gala.”

You smack his shoulder, giving him your angriest look, before you both laugh.

“You’re a prick. I got invited all on my own.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” he responds, sarcastically.

“What flavor is the cupcake?”

“Chocolate.”

“Eh. I like vanilla.” you respond, swiping the frosting off the top with your finger. But before you can lick it, Ricky reaches for it first and swipes it right off your finger.

“I mean, I was going to eat that, Ricky.”

“I only like the frosting of the cupcake.”

“Well, I only like the frosting too. Especially when it’s not the flavor of cake I like.”

You hand Ricky the rest of the cupcake and grab your purse as you head out. You press the button on the elevator and both slide in when it opens, the anticipation of the fourteen people waiting outside for you and the hundred more who will be at the event sitting on you. You must be making some weird face because Ricky catches on to it super fast.

“Just relax. It’s just paparazzi, not flying to the moon.”

“I know that. I just feel like I’m not entirely here at the moment. And they’re all going to ask me about Girlfriend and you and Eren and I just-”

You still haven’t encountered the press after the entire thing, despite most of the tabloids writing things in your favor. Because rehashing the worst thing that’s ever happened for you in the two seconds the paparazzi talk to you and have it become a whole convoluted story is not something you’re ready for.

After the entire thing went down, you retreated to your room for one day. One day. With full intentions to mope for the rest of your life, because you would never live this down. And because the entire ordeal was so overstimulating, so stressful that you need to rest.

Until Danny and Sareen dragged you out by the legs and forced you to film a music video with Ricky. Then go to his debut of the song and the music video in Times Square. And then they granted you your beauty rest, but then that stupid voice in your head got the best of you and you couldn’t help but watch what everyone said about the entire thing after the event.

People thought the entire Girlfriend thing was really tasteless. Because it was. Ricky did a bunch of interviews, where he just talked you up and how the entire thing was ridiculous in his opinion. They thought it was sweet of Ricky to come to your defense with Death of a Bachelor and that your official debut as a couple was one for the books.

You’ll take a win where you can get one.

Everyone sided with you, which was nice. Fans wise but also from your real friends. Connie, Marco, Mikasa, and Jean were at your side the entire time, which you appreciated.

Connie was the one that convinced you that “you had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever” and filmed a video of you, Jean, Mikasa, and him dancing to Girlfriend and posted it.

Which was your favorite part of the entire thing, not because of the song, but because they were there for you through the entire thing. That Connie could make something mortifying funny for you. A bad memory a good one. A true testament to his support.

Unlike some people. People’s inquisitive eyes leave no stone untouched and now rumors of a fallout between you and Historia are flying around, when she’s the only one to not publicly come to your defense. And you get it, she doesn’t have to. What you don’t understand is why she won’t return any of your calls.

Ricky reaches down and grabs your hand, locking his fingers in yours as he gives you a smile, bringing you back down from the thoughts.

“I won’t leave you, okay? Danny and Sareen said I should handle all those questions anyways.”

“And if Lana comes up to me?”

“Spit in her face. She’s really annoying.”

“And if Eren comes up to me?”

“I’ll give you a big kiss.”

“Ew. Don’t do that.”

“I love it when you act disgusted by me.”

You snicker as the elevator rings and the door swings open. You’re immediately flooded with a mound of flashing lights as Ricky grabs your hand and drags you through the crowd into the fresh air. And it only gets worse outside because not only are the cameras outside bigger, but the reporters are louder.

Are you and Ricky official?

Eren and Hyla are rumored to be dating. Do you have any comments on that, Y/N?

Can you tell us anything about your upcoming record, Ribbons?

Ricky ducks your head into the car first before sliding in himself, tapping on the seat ahead of him as the car speeds off. You let go of Ricky’s hand, wiping the sweat against your dress, immediately freezing when you remember you’re supposed to return it at the end of the night.

“Now was that so bad?” Ricky asks, giving you a winning smile.

“Literally, yes! I wasn’t expecting them to be in the lobby.”

“Cmon, you nailed it. I was there, wasn’t I?”

“Quit trying to flirt, Ricky. You suck at it.” you grumble, which he laughs at.

The car comes to a screeching halt and you give Ricky a weary smile as he walks out first, making it a point to open the door for you on the other side. You wrap your arm around his as you both walk the carpet, giving glimmering smiles every time you walk a few paces.

You make mental notes of those standing on the steps behind you and you catch sight of them. Eren and Hyla, in the center of the carpet. Eren’s lifting his hand to twirl her in the middle, with consecutive clicks from the cameras. And you can see Sukuna right behind them, pretending to gag with Maki and probably ruining all the picutres.

You smile, making it a point to sit with Sukuna later because he’s so wildly unserious that it’s probably the only thing you could tolerate on a day like this. And it would really piss off Eren.

Mikasa and Jean are smiling at you from behind the ropes, Mikasa giving you a sweet smile and mouthing that you look great. She points at a spot towards the left and you nod, signaling that you’ll meet her there after.

Out of the periphery of your eye, you catch sight of it. The giant cat in the middle of the runway. You tap Ricky on the shoulder, pointing it out to him.

“Oh god.”

“At the Met Gala? That’s so unserious.” you respond.

“Ten bucks it’s Gojo.”

“That’s such a lame bet. I know for a fact that’s Gojo. He’s the only type of dumbass to show up to the Met Gala dressed up as a big white cat with blue eyes.”

You both lean closer together, making a point to make sure the paparazzi are taking pictures of you two all close to each other. The head of the cat pops off and surely enough, a very excited Satoru Gojo is now running in circles around in the middle of the carpet. And blocking every girl standing on the side.

You don’t miss Geto standing ten paces behind with Shoko, the two of them very loudly declaring that they, in fact, do not know or associate with that man.

“You owe me ten bucks.”

“I never agreed to that, Ricky.”

Ricky leans forward and plants a warm kiss on your cheek, earning a nice symphony of cooing from the photographers on the other side.

“Oh?”

“We both got it right. So we both get a reward.” he responds, tapping his left cheek.

You roll your eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and consequently wipe your glittery lip gloss off his face after. You give the cameras a smile and wrap your arm around his again as you walk farther down the carpet towards the interviewers.

“Y/N. You look gorgeous!”

“Thank you! So do you.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about your third upcoming album, Ribbons? What’s your favorite track on the album?”

“Thank you for asking! I think Ribbons is a mix of a lot of feelings I’ve had lately - specifically good, warm, and positive feelings. I-I think that being negative is something that’s really easy to do, especially when you’re in my position, but I try to keep my music feeling like sunshine on a nice day, because who likes to focus on the bad when you can just be the good. My favorite track on the album is seven, a song that I’ll be performing inside later today with one of my best, best friends who I wrote it with.”

“That’s sweet. Are any of these positive feelings a consequence of your new beau, Ricky James?”

And right on cue, Ricky’s on your side, tilted eyes glimmering in the camera.

“I know for a fact they are. She loves to write songs about me.”

“That’s a bold statement coming from you, Ricky.” you respond.

“I’m a bold guy.” Ricky responds, giving you a wink.

“Speaking of writing songs, Y/N. How do you feel about songs being written about you? Songs like Girlfriend?”

The reporter looks way too excited at this part now. You look at Ricky before answering, who gives you a subtle nod. The answer you practiced with Sareen and Danny.

“I think it’s flattering.”

“Really?”

Ricky slides his hand around your waist and smiles, finishing off the rest of the answer for you.

“Oh, it’s totally flattering. I mean, I’d be really intimidated if I was comparing myself to someone like Y/N here too. She’s quite literally at the top of her game, in every sense, and it’s easy to feel less than when you’re comparing yourself to a future triple threat. So we get the thought process behind it.”

“Ricky.”

“It’s true, Y/N. Personally, I think they should pick London Boy from her discography as the song selection. But that’s just me.”

You smile at each other as you give the interviewer a polite nod, giving each other a thumbs up as you walk around the floor. You finally get to stop near Jean and Mikasa, who are very obviously already wine drunk, from the way their cheeks are tinted pink.

“Wow, Jean. It hasn’t even been two hours yet.” you respond, placing your hand flat against his cheek to see how much his skin is burning.

“I hate this type of shit.” Jean responds, grumbling.

“Jean. How drunk are you? Don’t tell me you’re imagining cats walking around are you?” you ask, feigning concern.

“Huh? That cat isn’t real?”

“You’re actually seeing cats?!” Mikasa asks, catching on.

“THERE’S A REAL CAT HERE, MIKA. LOOK.” Jean says, pointing at Satoru who is now lying face down on the red carpet.

"Jean."

"Y/N. MIKASA. I'M SO SERIOUS I SWEAR THERE'S A REAL CAT. IT TALKED TO ME EARLIER. IT TOLD ME I SHOULD HAVE DRESSED UP AS A HORSE WITH IT."

“Oh, sweetheart. We should go inside, you’ve had too much. You always do this, Jean.” Mikasa says, shaking her head as she leads him in. Mikasa turns her head over her shoulder and gives you a wink, before she walks straight into the venue.

Geto and Shoko come up to your side after they catch you staring at Gojo - who's now doing the worm in his cat suit on the floor - as they both give you polite hugs. The three of you stand against the wall to watch him take the spotlight away from anyone who was hoping to have it.

“Can you believe you’re married to that guy?” you ask Geto.

“Please don’t remind me. It pains me everyday.”

“He wore the cathead to my house the first day he got it. I was hosting a vigil for one of my neighbors.” Shoko states, placing a cigarette between her teeth.

You snort at the thought of Gojo, in his fully exuberant energy, trotting into a room of people mourning with the cat head on.

Megumi and Yuuta join the group of you as you now watch Yuuji - whose actually dressed in a nicely styled suit - have a dance off with Cat Gojo on the red carpet.

You nudge Megumi in the side.

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?”

“We’re breaking up.” Megumi responds, earning a laugh from the group.

“I can’t tell what’s worse. The fact that they’re dance battling at the Met Gala or that Yuuji is horrendously losing to Gojo wearing a twelve pound cat-suit.”

“Yuuji losing.” you all respond in unison.

“I think Cat Gojo is going to haunt me in my dreams.” you respond.

“Get this, Y/N. It’s not Cat Gojo. It’s Catoru.” Yuuta responds.

“Don’t tell me he trademarked it already.”

“He did.” they all respond in unison.

"Geto. Shoko. When you burn that thing in the flames of hell, I want a video." you state.

"That's a promise, kid." Geto responds, with Shoko giving an affirmative nod.

You turn to your left to find Ricky standing at your side, with his arm wrapped around John. Historia’s ex-boyfriend. You give the group of them a polite nod as you walk away and join Ricky at your side.

“Y/N. This is my friend, John. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Hi. Y/N.” you respond, making every effort to emphasize the flatness in your voice.

“John. Nice to meet you.” he responds, holding his hand out which you refuse to touch.

“Play any chess games lately?” you ask, making a pointed reference to Historia’s song.

He glares and you watch the smile on Ricky’s face drop. You give your best, sickly sweet smile as you wait for a response.

“That’s right. You acted in Attack on Titan so you must be friends with Historia.”

“Very good friends.” you respond.

“Okay John, we’re going to go in. I’ll see you in a sec, yeah?” Ricky responds, hands increasingly hard on your biceps as he drags you a few paces away.

“Ouch, Ricky. Get off.”

He’s leaning close to you, whispering in your ear earlier like you two were when Satoru came in, except this is nowhere near as fun as last time.

“What’s your problem?”

“What’s yours? He’s not a good guy, Ricky.”

“I’ve made every effort to be friends with your friends. You could and should be doing the same for me, Y/N.”

“And I will. For your friends who aren’t groomers, Ricky.”

Ricky glares at you before giving you a smile and pressing a kiss to your forehead with the paparazzi so close, before dragging you into the venue with him. You settle into your seat next to Ricky, craning your neck to see where the rest of your friends are sitting, all the way on the other side of the room.

You turn to the girl sitting next to you and whisper in her ear.

“Hi. I’m Y/N.”

“I-I know who you are. I’m a big fan.”

“I’m really sorry to ask you this then. But you see that guy right there, pink hair, those two little scars near his eyes. Could you go and switch seats with him? He’s sitting in between Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuta Okkotsu, so I can at least promise it’s a better seat than this one.”

She looks over and gives you an affirmative nod. You squeeze her shoulder as you watch her stomp over, Sukuna turn back to give you a questioning look, before letting the girl take his seat and striding over to sit next to you with two cups in his hands.

He sits on the chair to your left, making it a point to spread his legs as far as he can on his chair, and glare at Ricky as he sits down.

“What do you want, doll?”

“Nothing. I got bored.”

He shrugs as he places the second cup in front of you, which you pick up. And then immediately spit back up, because it’s just straight vodka.

“Shit. My bad, doll. That’s mine.”

“You’re drinking straight vodka? No chaser?” you ask.

“Imagine doing this shit sober. I’d drive myself half insane.” he murmurs.

You switch the cups and drink yours again, pleasantly surprised by a warm, sweet latte.

“Sukuna. How’d you know?” you ask.

“Eren told me.”

You look over at him, giving him your best glare.

“As if you’d talk to Eren.” you snort, craning your neck to find him on his phone, next to Hyla’s who is fixing her hair.

“We talk. It’s just not pleasant.”

“Yeah. My preferred coffee order is just so horrible to talk about.”

“You wouldn’t believe it. Poor guy mopes about you so much it even makes me depressed.”

Ricky taps aggressively on your shoulder, leaning over into your space.

“I’m going to go sit with John.” Ricky states, angrily.

“Okay?” you respond.

“Okay? That’s it, Y/N?”

“Do you need a formal, written invitation? Or does she need to hold your hand and walk you there so you don’t get lost?” Sukuna responds, glaring at him.

Ricky gets irritated at Sukuna’s response and storms off, which just has Sukuna moving his chair so that you can both prop your legs up on it. You’re both switching off on sharing your drinks - mixing Sukuna’s alcohol with your latte and watching all the performances.

“Are you performing?” Sukuna asks.

“Yeah. With Marco, right before Eren.”

“Real cute. Is it that same fluff shit you always write?”

You smack him hard on the shoulder.

“Asshole. That fluff shit is Multi-Platinum, dumbass.”

“I get that. But I’m saying, you should write something more serious than that. Instead of penting up all that rage in your forehead, you should write it in a song. Quit letting real stupid girls call you stupid in songs.”

“I can’t. My record doesn’t really like the idea of that.” you respond.

“So? You’re the artist and it’s your music. Write whatever you want. Don’t be a chickenshit.”

“It’s not that simple, Sukuna.”

“No. It literally is. You’re just chicken.”

“It’s not about chicken, Sukuna. My record was the one who took a chance on me and to some extent, I have to follow that. And they’ve made me Multi-Platinum so far so who am I to not listen to them?”

“God. You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re an asshole, Sukuna.”

“Do you want to kiss now?”

You reach forward to smack his face, which elicits a laugh from him.

“You never change, do you Sukuna?”

“Best thing about me, doll. You should learn to piss people off like I do. It’ll actually relieve some of that tension. And flirting is good for your health.”

“We can’t all afford to be feather rustlers like you.”

“You could. I’m sure people would eat it up - the whole sweet girl saying her mind type thing. I’ll give you lessons on how to talk your shit sometime instead of letting idiots like that do it for you.”

He points over at Ricky, whose glaring bullets at the two of you. You give him a gesture, which he completely ignores as he turns over to whisper in John’s ear.

“Out of all guys, you had to pick that one? When you tweeted that you were charged with murder, I thought you were being serious and got really excited for a second.”

“Danny and Sareen picked him. That’s not my fault.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder and see the usher, signaling that it’s time for you to perform. You nod and turn to Sukuna, who's already getting up from the chair. He presses a kiss to your cheek before you walk off to the other side where Marco’s waiting.

Eren’s sitting towards the end of the bench, hands pressed under his legs, when he watches you take the stage with Marco, a glittering smile on your face.

And in your billowing, white dress, there’s only one thing Eren can focus on. The fish tattoo, right on display. He instinctively reaches for his own, hidden under the fabric of his clothes, and thinks about how your sweet, flowery smell was always overwhelming, even in a disgusting tattoo parlor.

And when Eren catches sight of Marco at the piano, Eren knows you’re a temptress to everyone and not just him. Exhibit A? You convinced Marco to sing in public with you.

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N.”

Everyone breaks into a loud applause and Eren thinks that the wolf-whistling in the corner is Mikasa, who he’s convinced is shit-faced by the way her cheeks are glowing pink.

“Thank you. Um, can we just take a minute to give a second round of applause to my sunshine boy, Marco, here? He’s not a big singer and I’ve all but forced him to do this with me, so let’s all give him some love.”

The crowd claps again and Eren knows for a fact that the wolf-whistling this time is Jean, who is actually plastered.

“This song is off my new album, called Ribbons, and it’s called seven. The idea of this song kind of came up randomly. I told Marco that it was kind of sad that I don’t have any of the childhood friends I did when I was a kid anymore. And Marco just responded by saying, ‘what do you mean, we’ve been friends since we were seven?’ And long story short, I jumbled out a nice mess of lyrics with Marco and Armin produced it after that and the song was finished. We hope you like it!”

Marco starts playing a soft piano tune, accompanied by your light strumming on the guitar, and some part of it is so familiar, so you that it makes Eren’s heart ache. Not that Eren’s a big hater of your new, more pop songs like London Boy, but Eren’s always enjoyed your soulful, soft songs like this more.

They remind him of the soft parts of him that you only shared with him, when you used to be next him when he slept at night.

Y/N: Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Eren fights the urge to snort. Of course, there’s still beautiful things. You’re standing right there.

And Eren knows he’s way too sensitive for this because hearing your soft, echoing voice when he’s about to sing a song about the last time he kissed you has him pushing his face into the table. Because there are tears in his eyes.

Y/N: Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you

Marco: Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

When you both finish, Eren watches you give Marco a big hug and a kiss on the cheek as you both walk off together. And then Eren’s trailing up to the stage where Historia’s waiting, the orchestral suite setting up their instruments and he feels his hands shaking at his sides. Historia gives him a smile, which he appreciates as he takes the front stand.

He hates it up here. He knows that flowery scent in the air is you. He manifested it by thinking about it and now it's suffocating him.

You lean against the wall with Marco, hands linked together, as you watch Eren readjust the microphone to his height and Historia sit at the piano. You make a fleeting second of eye contact with her and give her a smile, which she halfheartedly returns.

Eren’s hair is shorter, he’s cut it from the last time you’ve seen him. And he looks kind of tired, though you’re sure you look no better.

“My name is Eren Jaeger. This is my new song, Promise, that I co-composed and wrote with my friend, Historia.”

You lean your head against Marco’s shoulder, who is giving you a warm squeeze on the shoulder, as you listen.

I made a promise To distance myself Took a flight, through aurora skies Honestly, I didn't think about How we didn't say goodbye Just see you very soon

You pinch your eyes shut as you feel the breath constrict in your throat and tears warm in your eyes.

“You okay?”

“It’s Eren. Of course, I’m not okay.” you whisper.

No matter how long I resist temptation I always lose It hurts to be something It’s worse to be nothing with you I’ve done the math There’s no solution We’ll never last Why can’t I let go of this?

As Eren goes on and on, that soft voice that’s lulled you to sleep hundreds of time is haunting you. And Marco’s reflexes to wipe your tears away fast are the only reason that people don’t catch on.

When Eren finishes, his green eyes meet yours and he gives you a painstakingly long look, before walking away.

You don’t see him again that night. Or for a while. You figure it's better that way. Being in the same room but not talking is like nails on a chalkboard.

You lean over the counter, scrolling through the set of pictures Ricky just took, as you wait for the timer on your computer to count down.

Ricky circles his arm around your shoulder, as you both watch the seconds on the timer run out and the little display of confetti go around the screen.

You refresh the tab on your Apple Music and you see it - your name and album cover displayed in bright colors right at the top banner.

“How does it feel?” Ricky asks, watching you refresh your Spotify on your phone and watch the songs turn from grey to white, meaning they're now able to be played.

“Good. I hope Historia calls me after she realizes that dorothea is about her.” you murmur, the notifications on your phone buzzing from Reiner, Levi, and Mikasa. You open Levi's first.

levi: We love the record, kid.

you: it's been out for five seconds.

levi: Just shut up and take the compliment, sometimes.

you: I love you, levi. give kisses to hange. i'll call you guys tomorrow.

“She will. Just relax.” Ricky states, as he watches you push up on the counter, legs dangling in the air after putting your phone down.

He reaches for the lowest drawer, pulling out a dark black box and placing it flat in the palm of your hand.

“What’s this?”

“A gift, before you go on tour. And I wanted to ask you something.”

You nod, encouraging him to go on, as you look at the bracelet - a chain-linked, chunky silver bracelet with a heart charm right in the middle.

“That’s custom made. From Tiffany, because it’s your favorite right?”

“Yeah. Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Well, I’m really proud of you. Ribbons is a great record and I’m sure you and I will be competing for Record of the Year in a few months.”

You smile as Ricky leans closer, hands on both of your sides of the counter.

“I think you’re really great. And-and I know we’ve been pretending but some part of this became really real for me and I think it did for you too. So I think we should quit playing around and do this for real.”

You feel your throat dry as Ricky smiles at you, so excited and earnest, that you almost feel bad. For how you’re going to shoot him down.

“Ricky. Oh. Um. Listen. You’re really great. I-I really like you. But I-I don’t know if I can do that right now.” you respond.

“That’s okay. I don’t expect anything from you and I’m willing to be patient and all that. We’ll figure it out.” he responds, yanking the chain out of the box and reaching forward to secure it around your hand.

“Listen. I-I don’t know if it’s all that. It’s just, I don’t. I like you Ricky but not like that. I just can’t do that right now.”

Ricky leans back in confusion, dragging the necklace off your hand as you give him your most sincere smile. And you can’t help but feel bad for not liking him back. When he’s helped you out more times than you can count, with red carpets and defending you when he didn’t have to.

But you can't help these sort of things.

“Listen. I-I can go home. I’ll take the trash and then leave so you can be alone, yeah?”

“Okay. I appreciate that. Thank you for being honest.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Of course. And thank you for taking it well, I still appreciate what you’ve done and have a lot of love for you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder as you walk past.

You take the half filled bag of trash and walk out to the garage to swing the door open. There’s a decent amount of rain pouring down and you quickly scamper out admist it. You throw the bag over your shoulder and quickly run over to the chute to throw it down before running down to the door.

Except when you reach for the handle, it doesn’t pull down. You jam it down, more aggressively this time as the heavy drops start matting your hair to your forehead. Giving up on the door, you run to the other side and rap your knuckles against the window, where Ricky’s back is still turned.

He turns around and gives you a look, half opening the window.

“Hey. Sorry, I accidentally locked the door on the way out.”

“That wasn’t an accident. That was me.” Ricky responds, glaring at you.

“Huh?”

“That was me.” he responds, again.

“Listen, I can’t really hear you and it’s really cold outside. Can you just let me in?” you ask.

“Sorry, Y/N. I really like you but I just don’t know if I can do that right now.”

"Ricky."

He closes off the window and walks away all together.

You can feel the panic setting in your chest - at the fact that you’re standing in the pouring rain in Seattle and you don’t know where to go. And that Ricky, nice and sweet Ricky, just locked you out.

You hunch over on your knees, yanking your phone out of your pocket to call Mikasa. She picks up on the first call and you can hear her and Jean screaming through the speaker.

“TOP TEN ON THE CHARTS I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT.” they both scream, the sentence going over you’re head.

“Mika. Mika, wait.” you whisper, the tears starting to fill your eyes.

You’re thrown off by the screeching of tires and doors closing and you march over to Ricky’s side door. You lightly crack it open and spot seven paparazzi cars, parked straight on Ricky’s porch.

Meaning. Not only did Ricky lock you out of his house in the pouring rain but he made sure to call the paparazzi so they can catch you the first chance he got. You quickly shut the door and run to the backside of the house, into the back streets by Ricky’s neighborhood. And the panic's starting to make your legs shake.

“Mika. You’re not still in Seattle, are you?” you ask, the panic laced in your voice.

“No, babe. We’re in Tampa right now for Armin and Annie’s thing. We left a few days ago.”

“Do you know anyone who is? This is urgent, Mika.”

You hear Mikasa murmuring over the phone and suddenly Jean’s on the line, his voice more firm and collected than Mikasa’s. You can suddenly hear her panicking in the background, talking to a third voice you can’t identify.

“Marco says your options are Eren or Historia. They’re both still in Seattle, though I think Eren’s closer to where you are. Call us when you’re safe. Immediately, Y/N.” Jean says.

“Okay.”

You can hear the sound of raised voices from the direction you came and you quickly hunch to the side. You try your best to wipe the wetness of your phone as you scroll for Eren’s contact and dial.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice raspy like he was sleeping.

And at the sound of his voice, months after the fact, when you’re soaked to the bone in the rain, you can’t help but cry.

“Eren?” you ask, voice breaking.

“Y/N. What is it?” he asks, voice suddenly louder.

“I need your help.”

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm not hurt, but I could be? I don't know, Eren I-"

“Say the word. What-what is it? I-I’m there. Just tell me what you need me to do, love."

“I need you to come get me, Eren.”

“I’m coming. Stay exactly where you are and on the line with me.”

next part linked here

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist by either commenting on this or the masterlist <3

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denwritesandcries · 2 months

Text

The Wilderness Wants Us To (Kiss) – YJS

Pairing: poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader

Summary: Have you ever experienced all kinds of weirdness since the plane crashed months ago, so why the weirdest thing so far is it seems like all the girls are suddenly courting you?

Or, a series of kisses between you and your dear football team.

Word count: 4,6k.

Content: cursing, kisses, fluff, suggestive, angst if you blink, slightly dark, intoxication, the doomcoming, the wilderness but nobody has been eaten (yet).

A/N: They’re all weirdos in a romantic, toxic and codependent way.

English is not my first language.

Your life has stagnated into a familiar routine since the plane crash. To clean. Hunt. Eat. Exist. Survive. Doing the same chores in the cabin, the usual hunting trip, seeing the same faces every day, not dying of hunger. Not dying of boredom.

Nothing really seems to change other than the cultish trends that your friends seem to be slowly embracing, so if something different happens, you notice it immediately.

Once is an incidence.

Two, it could be a coincidence, but there are no coincidences in the wilderness.

Three is a pattern. That exists in the wilderness.

And the fourth is proof that there is definitely something weird going on – if you even have a sense of what is normal or not –, something that you have no idea what it is, but you know it’s there.

There's something wrong with your teammates. I mean, there's something wrong with all of you, but that's different even for them.

The thing is that you, thinking that maybe it was just in your head, only realized that you weren't imagining anything after the fifth time it happened and now that you know you can't stop thinking about it. Events keep coming back to you from times when this has happened before and you never connected the pieces.

You didn't notice at first, of course you didn't. Physical affection was becoming more common and normal between all of you every day and also because it was Jackie, the captain of your team, and physical affection on Jackie's part was already completely normal even before the plane crashed. She liked to pat you on the shoulder and hug you goodbye after classes and parties – as if she hadn't spent the day barking orders at everyone during practice, but it's Jackie and you really like her a lot, so it's okay –, you could always see her clinging to Shauna's arm, if not hers, then whoever was closest to replace her for a few minutes. Jackie likes to touch and you know it.

Receiving affection from her is like second nature, so you don't even blink when, on yet another boring and lazy afternoon, you give Jackie her old walkman, now repaired and working, and get a kiss as a thank you.

It was a silly treat to make her smile, just because she seemed so sad lately that it made you sad too. She squeals loudly and excitedly, before wrapping her arms around your neck and placing a kiss on your cheek.

She immediately runs off somewhere saying she was going to test it and show it to Shauna, completely abandoning the task of pretending to chop wood so you can complete it.

You only process what just happened when you hear a giggling coming from nearby, because of course Jackie would kiss you in front of your younger colleagues. One of them points at your cheek provocatively and you lift a hand to your face to feel the texture of pink and shiny lipstick marking your skin. Of course, silly you not to assume that Jackie Taylor wouldn't stop wearing makeup just because of some plane crash.

Whatever, you thought, not bothering to clean the mark. Jackie is sweet. She does things like that all the time, obviously you wouldn't think there's anything weird about it. It wasn't even the first time she kissed you. Kisses on the cheek were a thing long before you left civilization.

You only wipe the stain from your face, in a short and hasty gesture, when you return to the cabin and Mari makes one of her smart comments about it, because there really was no big deal, but the provocation still makes you a little nervous.

(Jackie wears lipstick a lot more often after that, even though she's quickly running out of the only one she has left, but you don't say anything. It would be really weird to imply that you noticed her lips that much. Which you didn't do, no way.)

The second time it happens shouldn't have left you as perplexed as it did, after all everyone knew that Shauna Shipman was never far behind Jackie in the things she did, but it didn't pass through your head that she would kiss you. It was Shauna. Even though she was never rude, you weren't really close and it was embarrassing to admit that you found her a little intimidating. She had a tendency to stare in silence for a long time, which made you avoid conversations whenever you could.

Well, it wasn't a kiss-kiss since it wasn't actually on the mouth, but seeing as you weren't expecting it at all, it could have been. You're learning that reading Shauna is much more complicated than it seems, making it difficult to know if what awaits you is a punch, a bite, or – the most recent discovery – a kiss.

It happened because of the thing that seemed to drive your little society: meat. Because the food was almost running out and no matter what you and Natalie brought, it seemed like there would never be enough. And Shauna was hungry. Painfully hungry.

She always seemed to get hungry more quickly than the others, craving meat with an almost drunken need and you didn't quite understand why, even though you had noticed this detail some time ago. So when you and Nat are seen arriving back at the cabin carrying a deer, a big deer, Shauna practically runs up to the two of you, basically ripping the antler out of the blonde's hands and making you stumble to follow her back to the meat house.

You offer to help her just out of politeness and how rushed she seems, without expecting a positive response since it was common knowledge that Shauna preferred to work alone.

However, she nods her head enthusiastically as she hands you a knife and you swear you've never seen someone look so happy to slit an animal's throat alongside someone else.

When the task is done, you end up at the door with a full tray ready to be prepared for dinner back and Shauna is right behind you, with that same enthusiasm and silent yearning. It's a little unnerving, but at least she's not staring at the back of your head like she's trying to burn you like she usually does. You guessed any progress was welcome.

You just didn't expect it to progress to Shauna pulling you by the elbow to face her and tilting your face towards hers. You're so startled by the sudden touch that you only feel your face heat up as hot, wet lips meet the corner of your mouth when Shauna pulls away, taking the tray from your hands as if it weighed nothing and continuing on her way, muttering a quiet and embarrassed “thank you” over her shoulder.

You stood there like an idiot, feeling your bottom lip and part of your cheek tingle where she touched you just a moment before.

So Shauna kissed you. Okay. Nice. Maybe she was just very grateful and very hungry. Twice, coincidence. Nothing more than that.

Right?

(Shauna looks away from you when she's caught staring at that night, which never had happened, but you attribute her red face to the fact that you're sitting by the fire.)

The third time is the one that makes you go “okay, maybe that's a thing now,” because apparently the kisses have nothing to do with Jackie-Shauna or simply gratitude – at least not entirely – and much more to do with the fact that it's you.

Which actually doesn't make much sense. Van and Taissa are together, why would either of them feel the need to kiss someone else? Why would they both feel? And why you? It's true they haven't told anyone yet, but you know. It's a little hard not to notice when they both disappear at the same time into the forest or behind the cabin so often, but still. You don't kiss other people when you're committed. It's a principle, damn it.

Anyway, it's starting to get cold, you think there's just over two months left until winter arrives, maybe less, which makes tasks much more complicated and annoying to do. Especially when it comes to washing clothes.

Luck – Mari's damn shuffle – decided that you, Tai and Van would be the ones to do the laundry this time and the three of you dragged yourselfs grumbling and complaining to the lake, carrying piles of clothes in your arms.

Now, of all the things you have to do around the cabin, scrubbing clothes in cold running water is probably the one you hate the most. Cold, wrinkled hands, chills running down your spine, ew. The fact that Van and Tai went with you makes things at least a little less boring, with the redhead happily filling the silence, her silly jokes making the task almost bearable to accomplish. Almost.

“Ugh,” You groan for what feels like the thousandth time in the last hour, “We’re gonna end up catching a cold like this.”

“You definitely will, if you keep annoying me like this,” Tai replies, swinging her arm towards you, cold water splashing in your arms, “I'm gonna push your dramatic ass into the river, I'm warning you.”

The drops make another chill run through your body, so just for the audacity, you straighten up and let your body fall against hers with the most done expression you can muster in a few seconds.

Tai screams your name indignantly when a wet t-shirt slips out of her hands and falls straight to the ground, but you don't pay much attention when lets out a loud and exaggeratedly long sigh, hearing Van’s laugh as she watches the scene.

And Van, wonderful, too sweet for her own good, Van, decides to finally take pity on your little show – maybe you really were spending too much time with Jackie – and finish what you had left of your part of the pile and you would definitely have jumped in her arms and kissed her for it, if you weren't, you know, in front of her girlfriend.

It turns out that blinking your eyes and sighing doesn't work as well for you as it does for Jackie, because as soon as you get ready to go back, bending down to pick up the heavy basket full of clothes, a familiar hand pushes your chest.

“Shit, Taissa!”

“I said I would do it, didn’t I?” She stands in front of you, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised as she watches your form lying, shaking and soaking wet at the river's edge.

Van's laugh doesn't bring you that rush of happiness from moments before, since now you're sure that she only decided to help you because she knew what Tai was going to do anyway. That little shit.

You walk past them with the basket in your hands, a trail of water in your wake and a frown on your face.

The way back is completely silent, except for the sound of your fast breathing in your rush to get there and warm up and the girls' requests for you not to get upset over a silly joke. Whatever. You won't say a word to them no matter what they do.

“Oh, come on,” Van wraps an arm around your neck, “We didn’t want to make you so upset, right Tai?”

Tai moves closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, but you remain quiet regardless, even if your willpower to remain upset wanes a little.

“Right” she agrees, sounding very unconvincing, “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“We are so sorry,” Van reiterates, blinking innocently.

Your only response is a noise from your throat that sounds a lot like a petulant mumble and you feel the look they exchange over your shoulder.

And then Van's arm brings you closer and there are lips on either side of your neck. You freeze, breath hitches.

It's not fast like the other ones, but long and drawn out as if it's trying to prove you. A shiver runs down your spine and the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even though you swear it's just because your skin is still damp from the fall. You can feel Van's hair tickling your face and Tai's breath is warm against your chin.

You blink and Van is walking away with a wolfish smile on her lips, whistling absentmindedly and Taissa has the basket you were carrying in her own arms.

“Aren’t you coming?” Van turns when she notices you still standing and Tai arches an eyebrow, as if to say 'so?' and you stumble after them.

“...Sure, whatever!” You stutter, face as red as your goalie’s hair, “But if I get sick, that’s on you!”

“You won’t!”

You return to the cabin with your head down, but for a completely different reason this time. You feel weird, embarrassed, even with your friends walking calmly beside you. It feels weird to just call them friends too.

(Three times – or was it four? It's a pattern. Definitely a pattern.)

You do, in fact, get sick and the fifth time feels more like a fever dream than anything.

Seriously. You survive a plane crash without any serious injuries, but a flu is what knocks you out. You end up in the attic, with a heavy chest, incessant sneezing and a high fever that won't let you sleep.

And of course, Misty Quigley hovering over you like a hawk.

In fact, all your friends seem to be hovering over you in an overprotective way these days, which might not be strange considering the situation, but other people in the group have gotten sick before, including the younger ones, and none of them have reacted like this.

Van and Tai spent the entire time staring like kicked puppies from across the room until Misty kicked them both downstairs so you could try to get some sleep. It wasn't doing much good, but the momentary tranquility was really aporeciated.

Misty has been with you the whole time since your fever started and you let her ramble happily while she plays nurse, putting damp cloths on your forehead and helping you drink hot tea, even though you insist you're well enough to do so. She seems very happy to be helpful, so you let her spoil you as much as she wants.

You turn over on the cold floor, wrapping the blankets tighter around you as you sneeze again and Misty sits next to you, but there's nothing she can do at the moment to make you better, so she stays still, looking nervous and pushing her glasses on the tip of the nose with her fingers.

You think about how she seemed to have looked with longing and something that might have been envy when Jackie ran her hand through your hair in the morning before going outside with Shauna after leaving you another blanket. She looked the same when Lottie rubbed your shoulder gently and spent time by your side throughout the afternoon, leaving what appeared to be a half-cut crystal near where your head rested. It's just like she wanted something, but didn't know what or if she could do it. You don't know exactly what too.

Your ears ring and you think about your teammates, your friends and kisses. Four kisses on three occasions. Things that didn't happen before, but apparently happen now and that follow a strange pattern. You wonder who will be next to follow it.

You do what you do next in the fog of sleep and fever, because you'll never be able to actually sleep if you don't have a proper place to rest your head. It has nothing to do with the possibility opened in your last thought.

Her legs are soft under the blue and yellow shorts she wears when you crawl around and rest your head on them and it's certainly much more comfortable than the floor.

“Talk,” You mumble, clearing your throat at the hoarse voice.

“What?” She squeaks and you can tell it caught her in surprise by the way her eyes roam over your form, unsure of what she just heard and what's going on.

Misty is clearly alarmed, arms raised above her body as if she's afraid to touch you, her glasses falling onto the tip of her nose again as she looks down to face you, blonde curls falling across her face.

“What– What are you doing?” She asks.

“Weren’t you saying something about Plato?” You hold back a yawn as you fix yourself on her lap, ignoring her question completely, “Come on, keep going.”

She seems to ponder for a second, jaw dropped in confusion, but you don't move, so she picks up where you assume she left off. After a few minutes listening with your eyes closed, you feel her soft hand rest hesitantly on your back, running her fingers up and down when you don't protest.

You let out a sigh when you finally manage to relax, her voice calming the ringing in your ears a little and when you squint your eyes, Misty seems perfectly satisfied.

That's it, you think, that's what she wanted then.

Your body still has sporadic chills, but you feel like falling asleep, having lost track of how much time has passed with Misty talking to the walls about whoever the philosopher of the moment is. Your head feels heavy, you can barely keep your eyes open. It's good not to be alone when you're like this.

You're not sure whether or not you imagine the cold lips against your warm forehead when you sleep, but it counts as success for your little test. Five.

(You only wake up the next morning, feeling much better and more energetic, even without remembering a single word you said to Misty, just having fallen asleep on her lap for a while. The way she blushes and laughs after that, staring and following you around whenever she can, says that she remembers it very well. Coach Ben gives you a look full of sympathy when he sees her clinging to your arm, which you don't quite understand.)

The sixth time happens in the middle of the forest. It's windy, sun almost down, with Natalie walking beside you. It's the most peaceful moment you've had in your life in weeks, and it's also the moment you realize that maybe there's something wrong with you as much as the rest of the team.

Nat is talking, complaining about how Travis – the closest thing she'll have to a boyfriend in this place – is mad at her. He won't hunt or talk to her, much less touch her.

That's why you're following her, actually, the hunting part. You don't have much sense of your place in the group compared to the others, doing a little bit of everything when necessary, but Natalie seems to enjoy your company on these occasions, even if your aim with the rifle isn't as good as hers.

You spend so much time listening to her complain about mundane things like condoms and the flask of old booze she found in dead-mummified-guy's stuff that you feel the absurd urge to laugh. It's so strangely normal – except for the mummy part, but still.

Maybe that was what made you open your mouth after minutes of silence and broken snorts:

“So he can't get it up once and now he's mad at you? Damn Nat, if you need someone to make out that badly then I could help you with that.”

It comes out half as a mockery, half as truth, because that's what you do. Help people, fix things. But it's sarcastic, because it's just a stupid idea for Natalie to even consider.

Except she suddenly goes quiet and when you turn your head, she's looking at you. Eyes half-closed, mouth open, wanting.

When she kisses you, you're already waiting, longing for it, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against the nearest tree. You think about how she was the only one who had the courage to chase your lips, to take what she really wanted.

The only thing you can feel is the weight of Nat's hands – cold, always so cold, even though winter is still a while away – on your hips, one sliding up your back to grasp the hair at the back of your neck, lips parting and tongue finding yours almost desperately and then you can't think about anything else but her. Natalie, who is much stronger than she looks and who also holds her own to stay sane in this place much better than anyone could imagine. Natalie, the bane of your existence and also your best friend. Natalie, who kisses like she hunts: with all the confidence her reputation demands.

If you close your eyes tightly and try hard, you can almost pretend you're at one of Lottie or Jeff's parties, listening to your friend complain about a stupid boyfriend, getting euphoric because she likes you better than the said stupid boyfriend.

And then she's pulling away, mouth swollen and hair completely messed up from where your hands had been placed. The moment ends and you come back to reality, picking up the rifle from where it was lying on the grass and looking around uncertainly. You guys didn't catch anything today. Food is running out.

You return to the cabin in complete silence.

(You don't see Natalie trying to talk to Travis after this, nor him with her, but you don't think she cares.)

You stopped counting after that, kisses and touches becoming a blur in your mind as the days pass and your worry increases. Whatever this is seems less important than what's happening at the moment: little food, few coats, winter approaching, a fucking baby coming.

However, it all comes back to them anyway, when you finally realize that you were right all along, that there really was something wrong with all of you and everything goes south quickly when someone decides to put mushrooms in the food.

It was an unspoken knowledge between you that the Yellowjackets would never be able to have a proper homecoming, so when the idea of a doomcoming came up in the conversation, even as a bad joke, you were one of the first to agree to it. A bittersweet goodbye sounded better than nothing.

You just didn't expect everyone to end up on drugs and acting like they were in some kind of cult. What did you miss that got you all to this point?

There is someone howling in the forest. Someone, not an animal. Or maybe they really were animals, given the way they're all chasing you now.

Just a moment ago you were genuinely enjoying the night, dancing with Ravi to Lottie's humming music and drinking fermented punch for who knows how long, even with a small feeling of being watched sent shivers down your spine at times. Then there was no sign of Ravi or Travis – nor Coach Ben, but he escaped somewhere in the woods with Natalie's canteen in his hand the second Misty's back was turned – and things started to get... confusing after everyone helped themselves to some stew.

Now there's someone howling in the forest and your head is spinning, hurried footsteps sound behind you as you end up back in front of the cabin after running in circles, a rabbit cornered by an entire pack.

Leaves are stuck in your hair, the hem of your dress is torn and covered in dirt, and you're sure you scraped one of your knees while running. There are also a bunch of dilated pupils focused on you.

Shauna is the first to approach, which surprises you so much that it gives the others time to do the same, big, sad, hazy brown eyes seeming to see deep into your soul.

“Why do you keep running away from us?” she asks, a pout that you can't tell if it's fake or not formed on her face, sliding a hand gently up your arm to your waist pulling you close and keeping her grip tight.

Jackie has her head cocked to the side and a smile painted red rather than pale pink like the first. She looks a little more composed than you'd expect, standing next to Shauna and bouncing in her step expectantly.

That was all it took to realize that you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to, melting against the scalding skin as if you had no problem getting burned.

“I'm not. I just… I don’t know what’s going on.”

The words came out slow and slurred on your tongue as if you didn't know exactly what you were referring to. This whole crazy night? Absolutely, but there are also so many other moments not recognized before.

You find yourself guided back to the cabin when you hear Lottie's voice in the background and Misty taking your hand to guide you. It all ends up there anyway.

You're unsure when you're placed in the pile of blankets and sheets on the floor, the lit fireplace warms the room like never before and there seem to be hands everywhere when Natalie enters your field of vision.

“I think you're a little too high right now, hun,” Nat scoffs, as if she's amused by your slowness.

You feel a laugh grow in your chest though you don't mean to, “You– you think so?”

“Yep,” she clicks her tongue, “The mushrooms hit hard.”

“Mushrooms!?” You let out a squeak of surprise when you're suddenly pulled back against someone's front, recognizing Taissa's nails scratching your back through your dress.

“Sorry,” Misty mutters disjointedly, tracing the lines of your palm like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“What–”

You stop mid-sentence when you make a sound in the back of your throat as you feel Van's teeth graze the junction of your shoulder and neck, bright green eyes and a wolfish smile on her recently healed face. You knew right away who the hell was howling.

“Oh, come on,” Van echoes with the same provocation from the day in the lake, “Don't tell me you're afraid of It.”

“It?” Your breath hitches when a hand guides your head up and there she is.

Lottie Matthews looking down at you, an antler crown on her head that makes you slack-jawed and hazy looking, looking completely divine and you hesitate when you realize that the entire team has gathered around you, as if they were waiting for something. What the fuck is going on?

Lottie leans down to your level, face dangerously close to you, and you swallow hard when your eyes settle on her lips. She never kissed you, not like the others, something that always left a doubt in your head; an almost embarrassing curiosity to know what it would be like.

She meets your eyes with a malicious gleam, like she knows exactly what you're thinking and leans in a little more and just as you close your eyes to meet hers, hunger lips stray to your jaw.

“Lottie–” you squirm and the hands on your hips hold you tighter.

Nat silences you, running her fingers through your face provocatively while Lottie trails kisses down your neck, working her way down. Everything seems too stuffy, like you're melting at their touch.

“It's okay,” she reassures, cold, chapped lips finding your chest, teeth scraping the skin, “It wants us to, can't you feel It?”

You can't feel it, not really, you never understood this strange connection everyone seemed to feel with the wilderness that you didn't, but there are gentle hands caressing you, making you sink deeper and deeper and Lottie is finally kissing you, just like you wanted; lips stopping right over your heart, as if she wanted to devour it.

“Yeah,” you say, “I feel it.”

You're sure the cabin is on fire, but you're the only one who's burning.

#yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #van palmer x reader #taissa turner x reader #misty quigley x reader #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor x reader #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets show #denwrites

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mymoonagedaydream · 11 months

Text

Part 1

Summary: Maybe the relationships worth fighting for were the ones in which you had to fight the hardest.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Language, vague references to violence, light public wankery

Author’s Note: This one has been sitting in my inbox for literal years so I hope you’re still in an angsty mood after all this time. Was meant to be a oneshot but hey I got carried away what can I say.

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Three loud knocks hammered against your door. It made you jump every time he did that, you were used to your guests ringing the buzzer.

You checked the time as you hurried across the length of your cramped apartment, cursing under your breath when you saw that it was almost nine. Him finishing work this late was never good news. Whatever had happened, whether it be another drawn out meeting or an unplanned, after-hours assignment, it would almost definitely have left him in a shitty mood.

You sighed. It used to be that bad days for him were few and far between, now they seemed to outnumber the good ones.

Sliding the chain off and turning the lock, your heart sank when you pulled the door backwards and caught sight of his miserable expression. You wished so much that there was more you could do to uplift him when he felt like this but, short of marching into his office and scolding his colleagues as if they were suave-suited school children, you were helpless. All you could do was try to help him take his mind off things.

“Hey, Hot Shot.”

He managed to summon a weak but warm smile, planting a kiss on your temple as he shuffled past. “Hey. The crazy newspaper lady let me in again.”

“I figured,” you pushed the door shut and followed him inside, “did she give you another fistful of clippings?”

“Whatta you think?”

He stuffed a hand into his pocket and set down a few scrunched up papers on the coffee table before dropping onto the couch. With a smirk, you picked them up and smoothed them out, scanning your eyes over the headlines.

“Bless her, she always saves the business stories for you.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Probably ‘cause you’re always in a suit and I’m always referring to you as Hot Shot.”

“You talk to her?”

Realising your mistake, you stopped absentmindedly thumbing through the clippings, lifted your gaze to his and shrugged. “Occasionally.”

He narrowed his eyes. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn't like the idea of you going near her, he thought it wasn’t safe, probably thought you’d end up locked in her apartment and chopped into tiny pieces that she’d save and use as bullion cubes.

So now probably wasn’t the best time to bring up your weekly visits to her apartment for coffee and cake.

Sure, she was a little intimidating to look at, with her wild eyes and deep, sunken cheeks, but she was a sweetheart really. She’d started tearing up newspapers in the downstairs lobby after her husband died a few years ago. He loved his morning reading and she loved clipping out his favourite stories and saving them for him, apparently doing it for other people was the only thing keeping her going now she was alone. You just wished you could think of a way to explain all that to Bucky without incurring his paranoia.

His glare wasn’t letting up. You knew if you didn’t swiftly change the subject there was a danger he might start trying to convince you to move into his much nicer, much bigger and much safer apartment again. As much as you appreciated the offer, it had taken so much for you to move to the city on your own, and you weren’t ready to give up your independence just yet. You were happy the way things were.

You cut in as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Rough day?”

His head collapsed backwards. “Mhmm.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Nah, s’alright, just seemed like everyone was out to piss me off.”

“Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

He chuckled gruffly as you flopped down beside him, his arm moving to cradle your shoulders and hug you tight to his side. “Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“You wanna order pizza?”

“Definitely.”

You leaned forward and rustled around for the takeout menu in your coffee table junk drawer. Bucky shifted slightly, out the corner of your eye you could see him starting to dig the fingers on his free hand into his knee. He cleared his throat nervously before speaking again.

“Can I pay this time?”

“We’ll split it.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind-”

“Buck.” You gave him a look as you dropped the menu in his lap. “We’ll split it.”

He didn’t push back. You’d gotten pretty good at standing your ground out of necessity because, if Bucky got his way, you’d never be allowed to spend a single dollar. He earned a lot more than you, a helluva lot more, but you still preferred to keep things equal. You got by just fine.

The two of you settled in on the couch together. He hustled downstairs when the buzzer sounded and you demolished the pizza in front of the TV, enjoying the peace of each other's company, chuckling at whatever shitty reality show was on at 9pm on a weeknight.

Despite his best efforts, though, it was obvious that something still wasn’t quite right with him. He needed some help unwinding.

“Hey, you wanna hear something funny? It might cheer you up.”

His head lolled towards you, a wide smile creeping over his lips. “Go on.”

“So, at work this afternoon, Judy was doing her rounds upstairs when she noticed a guy tucked in the corner by adult fiction. It’s pretty routine to get the odd embarrassed reader trying to hide away up there but apparently he was grunting like a professional tennis player , her words.”

“Jesus.”

“Mhmm. So she called the cops and they hustled up there, apparently he’d been jerking off in the aisle to a fucking Mills & Boon novel called The Dark Duke . We had to get the janitor to get rid of it in a biohazard bag, poor guy. He’ll probably call in sick tomorrow from the trauma.” You were laughing through your words but, when you looked over at Bucky, an incredibly stern face was looking back. “C’mon, you gotta admit that’s funny.”

“It’s not funny that you’re around creeps like that every day.”

“This city is full of creeps, just so happens that a few of them have library cards.” You flashed your eyebrows at him, he didn’t even crack a smile. “Jesus, Buck, you don’t think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“No, I don’t.”

The two of you fell into silence. His eyes flicked away from you for a second, his expression suddenly becoming resolute. You could see the words forming in his throat. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You really need to think about coming to work at my place.”

You jumped up from the couch. “I can’t have this conversation again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re already in a shitty mood and me making the same argument I’ve made a thousand times before isn’t gonna help.”

You picked up the empty pizza box and trudged through to the kitchen, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t, unfortunately, because he decided it was smart to jump up and follow you like an irritating child.

“I just don’t get why you won’t take it. It’s better money, better hours and we’ll practically be-”

“Practically be working together yeah, I know, I’ve heard this speech before and the answer is the same. Thank you, but I’m happy where I am.”

“You wanna work in a fuckin’ library forever?”

You threw the box down on the counter and swivelled round to face him. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about my choices like that, like you know better.”

“Jesus, I’m just tryna’ look out for you.”

You shook your head, in disbelief that you’d been dragged into this argument once again. “Whatever.”

“Is that it?”

“I honestly don’t know what you want from me, Buck.”

“I want to know why you’d rather stay in a shitty job and a shitty apartment than have something better.”

“Because I don’t want to work for your fucking father, alright?”

His face dropped. You realised that your words had come out with much more venom than intended but, in all fairness, this had been building up for a while. You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what kind of business his family was in and you wanted no part of it. Your love for him had helped you move past your unease about what he did for a living, because you knew with utmost certainty that he was a good man at heart, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of them. You wouldn’t allow yourself to get dragged in too.

He clenched his jaw for a second before biting his cheeks, his head slowly beginning to nod, anger rising in his face. You just waited. Anyone else might have been scared of him in this moment, of how he seemed to be coiling up like a threatened snake ready to strike, but you weren’t. He’d never given you any reason to be.

His mouth fell open but quickly snapped closed before any distinguishable words could escape. With a loud huff, he stormed away, yanking his jacket from the couch as he passed and tearing your front door open.

You saw him hesitate in the corridor for a second. He brushed his hand over his hair before suddenly lashing out, striking the side of his fist against the doorframe. The whole wall shuddered.

“Whoa, hey.” You hurried over and reached for his shoulder. “That looked like it hurt, are you-”

He grabbed you.

Your eyes locked with his, you’d never seen him this angry before. In fact, you were so caught up in his warped expression that it actually took you a few seconds to feel his grip, to feel how tightly he was squeezing and how his fingertips dug into the space between the veins and tendons in your wrist. You frantically looked down at his white-knuckled hand and tried to yank yourself free, hoping that any amount of resistance would encourage him to release. He didn’t let go. You looked back up at him.

No words were exchanged, but you saw in his face the moment he realised he was hurting you. The redness in his cheeks seemed to drain away in an instant, leaving behind a deathly paleness that highlighted how quickly the tension dissolved from the muscles in his jaw and forehead.

He let go.

With panic thumping in your chest, you quickly stepped backwards and slammed the door. You sheltered behind it, frozen, as he softly knocked against the wood and apologised over and over again.

You stayed there until you heard him walk away.

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Part 2

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rollinouttahere-writes · 10 months

Text

Lucky Break Chapter 3

Yandere Straw Hats x fem!Reader

4.5k words

Beginning / Previous / Next

I was really hoping to get Orange Town Arc wrapped up in this chapter, but it appears that writing for One Piece has given me Oda’s pacing.

How could this even be possible? How did a disembodied arm stab Zoro? You clung onto the cage Luffy was in, feeling nauseated at the sight. Unlike when he had cut Buggy, blood was immediately flowing from the wound. Zoro stumbled from the attack and reached behind him to try and remove the dagger, but the arm ripped it out and flew away.

You could only watch in abject horror as Buggy’s body floated until he was in an upright position. He laughed loudly at the confusion on your faces, “The Chop-Chop fruit is the name of the devil fruit I ate, so now I’m a person who can never be cut!” His body readily attached itself back together (and his clothes too somehow), all while he continued to cackle.

Another one of those weird fruit things? Are all of them this disturbing to witness? You hope you never have to see another person with these cursed abilities ever again.

“A chop-chop person? Is he some kind of monster?” Luffy was, as per usual, not reacting to the given situation with anywhere near the severity required.

You reached through the bars to swat at him, “You’re all rubbery! Are you a monster too?”

“No, I’m a rubber person, it’s different,” he says like you’re dumb and simply didn’t understand. Well, to be fair though, you didn’t understand a damn thing going on right now. Was your life always filled with such bizarre events? Surely this wouldn’t be so shocking if you had been used to such things.

Wait, there is way too much going on right now for you to be getting distracted like this, you look up only to see Zoro lifting the cannon, flipping it so that it’s aimed towards the other pirates. How he was able to casually lift that is beyond you, especially when taking his wound into account.

Nami rushed over and lit the already very short fuse. Buggy and co immediately panic at this, and are apparently so terrified that they forgot how to move because they just let it fire at them. The explosion was deafening from this short distance, and the wave of heat felt like it was burning your lungs. All you could do was try and shield your face with your arms, but it really didn’t help much.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Zoro shoved past you and grabbed the cage, putting all his strength into dragging it away. You can’t let him do this by himself when he’s so injured, he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, so you push it from the other side. It’s so heavy, you can’t imagine you’re really helping him all that much, but you don’t give up.

Zoro is either in shock and can’t feel anything, or is a glutton for punishment because he continues to drag the cage further than you thought necessary. You’re not sure why, it’s not like those other guys are going to come after you. If there was anyone that survived the blast, there’s no way they’d be in any shape to give chase.

He finally called it quits in front of some abandoned pet store, immediately collapsing onto the ground upon letting go of the cage.

“Zoro!” You rushed over and knelt next to him. Instinctively, you reach into your bag for the first aid kit, but then freeze. What are you supposed to do with it? Slap some bandaids on the gaping wound? For all you know some of his organs were pierced, too. At the very least, he would need stitches, and you didn’t know how to do that.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about this. I’ll sleep it off,” Zoro placed his hand over yours, forcing you to put the kit back in your bag.

You looked at him incredulously, “Sleep it off?! You didn’t sprain an ankle or something, you got stabbed! You can’t sleep off a stab wound!” He must be delirious from blood loss, that’s the only explanation for how he’s this nonchalant.

“Quit worrying so much, I’ve slept off worse.”

“You’ve what?”

“Just quiet down so I can sleep,” he yawned and stretched out on the ground as if he were on a bed. His eyes flickered open again and back on you, “Can I have that back now if you’re done using it?”

“Have what?” Your hand reaches up to follow where his gaze is focused, landing on the fabric of the bandana, “Oh!” So you were right, it was his. You’re quick to untie it and return the bandana to its rightful owner.

“What’s with this weird dog? Why isn’t it moving?” Luffy was currently in a staring contest with a tiny white dog sitting in front of the store. The poor thing looked filthy. A stray, probably.

“That’s what you’re focused on right now? Seriously?!” You scolded him while gesturing at Zoro. What’s with this guy? How is he this laid back about everything going on around you? Were you the weird one here?

Luffy just tilted his head at you, further making you question if you were the odd one out, “What? He said he’ll be fine after he gets some sleep.” Zoro wordlessly nodded along with this sentiment from his (bloodied) spot on the ground, giving you an ‘I told you so’ look.

It’s official. They’re both insane. Was it too late to listen to what Nami said and go your separate way? You hazard a glance back at Luffy, only to see the dog biting his hand and him screaming while trying to shake it off.

You… Would probably be better off on your own.

“So that’s where you three ran off to,” you whip around to see the sanest person you’ve met so far, Nami, watching you all with an amused grin. She strolled closer and dropped a large key onto the ground, “I figured you guys might want this.”

“The key!” You and Luffy shouted in unison. You pray it’s the correct one this time, but at least it won’t be your fault if it isn’t. Luffy goes to grab it, but can’t. Not because he can’t reach it or anything, but because the dog leapt forward and snatched it up first. He didn’t just pick it up, no. The damn thing swallowed it, much to everyone’s shock and horror.

Luffy was the first to snap out of it. Surprise turned to anger as he grabbed the dog, yelling at him to spit it out, even though it was too late for that.

Ah. Of course. This might as well happen.

Crestfallen over the realization of how strange the company you’re keeping really is, you look at Nami with what must have been an extremely exasperated expression. All she does is smirk, visibly taking joy in your palpable regret towards your life decisions.

“Are you having fun helping your friends here?” Her tone was saccharin and her smile was conniving.

Suddenly, your resolve hardens and spite bubbles to the surface. If she’s going to be like this, then you don’t want to let her in on how you’re really feeling. You won’t give her the satisfaction of being right. “Yes. I’m loving every second of it, thank you very much,” you huffed and looked away from her, hoping she didn’t see right through you. Nami snorted at your effort.

“Hey! You kids leave Chouchou alone!”

Everyone turns their attention to the new voice. It belongs to an old man wearing some crude attempt at armor. Who’s Chouchou? The dog?

“Who are you?”

“I’m Boodle, the mayor of this town,” he stated very matter of factly. You couldn’t help but take a look at your surroundings. He’s mayor of this town? A ghost town? You suppose that would make getting elected easier.

He stomped his way closer, sizing up all of you before his eyes settled on Zoro. His eyes shot wide open, “That’s a terrible wound you’ve got there, we need to get you to a doctor immediately! I take you young’uns had a run in with Buggy and his crew?” The old man knelt down and began to try and lift Zoro onto his feet.

You pitched in and hooked his other arm over your shoulder. You’re not sure where you’re headed, but you assume it’s to wherever the doctor is. It’s surprising that there’s still a doctor here, but you suppose it’s not that much of a reach if the mayor is still lurking around.

He enters a nearby building, but it looks more like someone’s personal home than a doctor’s office. There also isn’t anyone in here. You follow the mayor’s lead into a bedroom and let Zoro lay down on one of the beds in there. You glance around and strain your ears, but you don’t see or hear anyone. You decide to ask, “So where’s the doctor at?”

“Oh, he’s not here,” Boodle didn’t pay you much mind, leaving the room to grab some supplies. He came back with a first aid kit and a glass of water.

Zoro in the meantime had shuffled himself under the covers and waved his hand dismissively at Boodle, “I don’t need any of that, just let me get some sleep.” Within seconds of finishing the sentence he was out cold.

“When is the doctor coming back?” You pried.

“Not anytime soon, I imagine. Not while Buggy is still ‘round these parts.”

“Then why did we bring him here???” Talk about pointless, this was like going shopping in a store that’s out of stock.

“It’s better than leaving him on the street, young lady,” he explained. His eyes focused on the haphazardly placed bandages on your forehead, “Oh dear, it looks like you could stand to see a doctor, too.”

“What? The doctor that isn’t here?”

Boodle scowled at your response, muttering under his breath, “Kids these days and their sass.” He huffs and turns to the door, “I’m going to go talk to the others, you’re welcome to stay here and rest if you want.”

The mayor is quick to leave after that, so you focus your attention back on Zoro. He’s sound asleep, looking surprisingly peaceful despite the circumstances. Despite his insistence that all he needs is sleep, you’re not so convinced. You shake Zoro’s shoulder, but he doesn’t even flinch. The blood loss must have him in a very deep sleep right about now. Maybe you could treat him now? There’s probably no harm in that.

You pull the covers back and roll up his shirt to assess the wound. If you remember right, he got stabbed from behind, so you decide to roll him onto his side to look at that part of the injury, too. There’s blood everywhere, and also some dirt and debris around it. You’ll need to get this cleaned up so it doesn’t become infected.

The bathroom should have what you need for that. You leave the room and try a couple of doors in the hallway before getting the right one. There’s a wash bin on the counter that you fill with warm water, and you snag a couple of rags on your way out of the room.

Zoro is exactly as you left him a moment ago, so you set to work on washing away the blood and dirt. His abdominal muscles twitch involuntarily from the action, but he didn’t wake. It was somewhat difficult to clean the wound due to the fact that it was still bleeding, but you got it good enough to move on to disinfecting it.

Cracking open the kit, you rifle through it to find what you need. Your hand closes around a bottle and you pull it out to see what it is. Painkillers! You can’t help the relieved grin that spreads across your face. Finally, some relief for your splitting headache! Popping open the bottle, you shake out a couple of pills and use the water on the bedside table to take them. Zoro probably wouldn’t mind. You set a couple more on the table for Zoro to take, too.

Next, you find a disinfectant and set to work on applying it. The sting of it was enough to rouse Zoro from his slumber. His arm shot out to try and shoo you away and he hissed, “Leave me alone, I’m trying to sleep.”

“I will when I’m done. We need to get this taken care of before it gets any worse. Here, I set out some painkillers for you,” you reached over and grabbed the pills and water cup, holding them out for him.

Zoro made no move to grab them, “I don’t need them, I feel fine.”

“There’s no way that doesn’t hurt like hell. Quit acting like a tough guy and take the damn things!” You try to push them past his lips, but he wrenches his face away from you like a toddler avoiding taking medicine.

“Knock it off, woman! I’m fine! Just finish what you’re doing and leave me alone!” He grabbed the wrist of the hand that had the pills in it to stop you from trying.

You scowled at his stubborn antics, but ultimately relented. If he was willing to let you dress the wound without a fight, you’ll take it, “Okay fine, sit up for me.”

This kind of a cut definitely called for stitches at the very least, but you weren’t qualified to do that. The best you could do was bandage it so it stays clean and doesn’t get any worse. You wad up a couple pieces of gauze to put on each side of his stab wound and wind some bandages around his waist to hold them in place.

“Is this too tight?”

Zoro rolled his eyes and grumbled, “It’s not, you worry too damn much.”

“Well excuse me for trying to help you and return the favor,” my god this guy was argumentative.

“Return what favor?” He looked genuinely confused. It’s not entirely unbelievable that he’d forgotten about helping you before given everything that’s happened in such a short window of time.

“You’re the one that cleaned up this, remember?” You pointed at your head with your free hand. Granted, rinsing it with sea water was hardly an ideal treatment, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Oh, that,” Zoro averted his gaze. “It’s not a big deal, I didn’t do that much. Definitely didn’t harp on you as much as you’re harping on me.” The man apparently couldn’t go two seconds without complaining.

It was your turn to roll your eyes, “Still, I appreciate the effort and wanted to give you the same courtesy, even if you’re being a cranky bastard about it.” His protests of being called ‘a cranky bastard’ was cut off by you tying the bandages in a knot to keep them in place, “There, I’m done. Now you can go back to sleep.”

“Finally,” Zoro falls back onto the pillow dramatically and immediately goes back to snoring. You pull up the covers since he didn’t bother to before passing out again. He must be exhausted to be able to go to sleep so quickly.

There’s another bed in the room and you contemplate laying down in it, but then you hear a terribly loud roar outside. You spare a glance to Zoro, who is unresponsive, then rushed out of the room to see what was going on. That sounded an awful lot like the lion, Richie.

Throwing open the front door, you look around and see Luffy by himself. Nami and Boodle are nowhere in sight, but neither is Richie at least.

Luffy is frantically rocking the cage back and forth in what you think is an attempt to scootch away. When he sees you running towards him, he perks up, “Lucky! Help me out and move the cage!”

There’s no way in hell you can move that cage far enough to get him out of danger, but you think you have an idea, “I can’t do that, but there might be another way.”

He tilts his head curiously, “Another way? What do you- Hey! What are you doing?” He yelps as you reach through the bars to grab his ankle and pull it out.

“You’re made of rubber, so you can squeeze through these bars, right?” If he can stretch, he can squish too. At least, that’s what you’re guessing.

“That’s not how this works! I would’ve gotten out of here by now if I could do that!” Luffy was flailing indignantly, trying to get you to let go.

“Maybe you just needed some help? Work with me here, suck it in!” You grunted from the effort of trying to pull some wriggly rubber boy out of a cage. He wasn’t making this easy on you. His leg was stretching, but he wasn’t any closer to being out of the cage.

“Suck what in? You don’t make any sense!” Luffy was straight up whining at this point.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

You shrieked and in your panic, let go of Luffy’s leg. You were so focused on helping Luffy that you hadn’t realized that Richie was now right here. So was that guy with the weird hair. When you let go of Luffy’s leg, it slingshotted back and over the cage, nailing the guy in the chest and sending him flying off of Richie.

“Oh! Good thinking Lucky! You got him good!” Luffy wasn’t even acknowledging the massive lion.

The other guy was coughing and gasping from the impact. Richie was paying him no mind and instead came over to you and licked your face. This successfully distracted you from the situation at hand. You cooed at the overgrown feline and gave him chin scritches.

The dog, Chouchou, was growling like mad. You hadn’t even noticed the small dog was still here before, having assumed it left with the others.

The weird haired guy staggered onto his feet, visibly furious, “Richie! Quit cuddling up to that liar!”

Richie grumbled, but did listen. He meandered back in no particular hurry, looking unenthused about the whole ordeal.

The man cleared his throat, “I’ll make you all pay for what you did! I am Beast Tamer Mohji, and there isn’t a creature that I can’t tame! Observe!” To prove his point, he approached Chouchou, whose growling got louder with each step. Mohji crouched down and held out his hand to the dog, smirking confidently.

As soon as he was close enough, the dog lunged forward and bit down hard on him. Mohji screamed and flailed his arm, trying to dislodge the angry dog. You, Luffy, and Richie watched this, all sharing an unimpressed look at the display.

When he did manage to free himself, Mohji took a minute to catch his breath before turning to face you guys again. “Anyways! We have unfinished business here! I’m not about to let anyone get away with disrespecting Captain Buggy!”

Oh, so he’s just gonna sweep that under the rug, huh?

He sicced Richie on you two. You screeched and leapt behind the cage. Why did he have to start acting like a proper lion now?! Richie put all his weight onto the cage, and it crumbled almost immediately.

Luffy cheered and jumped out of the way, dragging you along with him. He stretched and jumped up and down, thoroughly enjoying his newfound freedom. “Finally, now I can actually do something!” He charged at Richie and Mohji, winding up his arm to deliver a blow, but Richie reacts faster. He swipes at Luffy, and the hit quite literally sends him flying. Not just flying a few feet, no, it sent him hurtling through several buildings.

Your mouth was agape. Sure, he’s made of rubber, but how can anyone be okay after something like that?! Praying that Richie likes you enough to not give chase, you sprint towards the rubble, hoping that he’ll be okay.

Much to your relief, you aren’t pursued. Much to your horror, however, you find several buildings toppled from Luffy being thrown into them. When you finally reach the last destroyed house, you catch sight of Nami and Boodle gawking at it.

“What are you doing? Help me dig him out!” Not waiting for them to pitch in, you start pulling off fallen beams and tossing shingles behind you. You can see one of his feet poking out of the rubble.

“Lucky, I don’t think you need to, there isn’t a chance that he survived that,” Nami put her hand on your shoulder and gently tried to pull you away, but you just shrugged her off and continued to dig. You had to at least try!

Suddenly, the fallen building shifted on its own. Then Luffy sprung out of it, looking perfectly fine, if a bit dirty.

“What?! How can you still be standing after that?!” Boodle stepped back in shock from the sight and you could hear Nami gasping behind you.

“I’m a rubber person! It’s gonna take a lot more than that to stop me,” Luffy declared proudly. He hopped down onto the ground and sprinted back towards where Richie and Mohji were. He sure is fast for someone who just went through what he did. All three of you followed after him, wanting to see where this was going.

It wasn’t until just now that it dawned on you how strange it was that Mohji and Richie were even here. Didn’t they get hit by that cannon? If they’re okay, then does that mean the others are, too? Damn, how weak was that cannon? Maybe letting it hit Luffy wouldn’t have been that dangerous afterall.

Up ahead, you catch sight of a rematch between Richie and Luffy. This time, Luffy was more prepared and dodged his attacks with ease. He then twisted his arms around several times over and grabbed the lion. As if Richie weighed nothing, Luffy flung him overhead and drove him into the ground. You couldn’t help but wince at the sight, pitying the lion even if he had previously attacked Luffy.

Mohji was also appalled at the treatment of his lion, but didn’t have time to do much since Luffy knocked him out in one hit.

Nami was horrified at the display. It seems she was as disturbed by Luffy’s powers as you were. “Pirates are insane, why would anyone ever want to associate with these freaks?” She mumbled more to herself than anyone.

If Luffy heard her, he didn’t react to it. All he did was pick up a box of dog food that was laying on the ground and make his way back to where you guys were initially.

Curious about what he was doing, you tagged along and could hear the other two not far behind. As you rounded the corner, you finally took notice of the active fire that was going on. That pet store you guys were by before had been set aflame since you’d last seen it. Did Mohji do this? Why?

Chouchou was howling pitifully in front of it. He looked like he’d been roughed up, with claw marks all over him. You suddenly felt a lot less bad for Richie.

Luffy slowly approached the dog and set the dog food next to him, “That store was your treasure, right? It’s not much, but I was able to save this for you.” He reached out and patted the dog on the head, which Chouchou surprisingly tolerated this time around.

You aren’t completely sure what Luffy is talking about here, you feel like you’re missing an important piece of information. Still, you can’t help but be moved. Did he go out of his way to help the dog even after his previous issues with him? That’s oddly sweet.

Maybe these guys aren’t so bad afterall. Unhinged, yes, but at the very least they’re decent people. Perhaps you will stick around a while longer.

It would appear that you weren’t the only one moved by the display. Boodle clutched the spear he was carrying tighter, looking like he was on the verge of tears, “I can’t believe I’ve let this get so out of hand. I’ve been a part of this town since it was founded forty years ago. I helped build it. Me and the townsfolk poured so much into this town only for some lowlife pirate to come by and try and take it all for himself.” He cleared his throat and looked off into the distance with a burning resolve, “I’m done letting this continue, this is ending here and now! I’m going to bring an end to his reign even if it kills me!”

Mayor Boodle raised his spear in the air and charged towards where Buggy and his crew were stationed. Nami called out after him, warning that this was a bad idea, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Should we stop him?” You can’t imagine this is going to end well for him. This feels like watching someone’s grandpa go to war.

Neither of them were given a chance to answer. The deafening boom of a cannon going off cut through the air as several buildings toppled in its wake. Horrifyingly, one of them was the house Zoro was in.

All of you were in a stunned silence. How many times were you going to see people get crushed in collapsing buildings today? What was this? A superhero movie?

… What’s a superhero movie?

The remains of the building shuddered, then lifted, and you saw a green head of hair pop out. “Can’t get any damn sleep around here,” Zoro looked annoyed more than anything, as if you’d simply woken him up again and not like he’d just survived numerous events that should have been fatal

Luffy cackled, “Let’s go Zoro, we’re gonna kick that big nosed clown’s ass!”

“I don’t think Zoro’s in any shape to be ‘kicking ass’ right now.” Did Luffy forget about Zoro being stabbed?

Zoro, who was still working on climbing out of the rubble, groaned at this, “Didn’t I tell you that you worry too much? Quit fussing. I got some sleep, I’m fine.”

Does he think sleep is a cure-all? He must be able to tell that you’re going to argue with him, because as soon as he steps down, he takes off with Luffy in the same direction Boodle went. You called out after them, but they distinctly ignored you.

“They’re a bunch of lunatics,” you muttered, staring at their rapidly retreating forms.

Nami laughed, “Yeah, well they’re your lunatics, right?”

“I guess so,” you admit. Even if they are insane, you can feel yourself becoming fond of them.

Both of you follow behind them at a light jog. They’re out of sight, but you’re sure you’ll be able to hear them soon enough. You’re not sure what you’re going to do when you get there, but you’ll just have to figure it out as you go along.

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #platonic yandere #monkey d luffy #luffy #zoro roronoa #nami #cat burglar nami #mohji the beast tamer #buggy the clown #lucky break #yandere

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