#their hair is the last line of defense before they start looking like the same MF

[aspenous]

Korean Manwha has such a issue with same face/body syndrome when it comes to women it aint funny anymore 😭

[itneverendshere]

looking like motivation - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud. 

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you. 

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made. And he made a lot of those. 

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury. You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing. 

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain. It was from trying to resist the urge to say something that might actually cross the line. But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s. Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rafe shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.” 

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical. 

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year. 

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about. Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, I am focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you. 

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise. He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful. It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, Rafe couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch.

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, though there was a playful lilt to his voice. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, his tone still light but with an undercurrent of something more serious. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to mask the sting of rejection. "No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing firm even though his eyes on you made your heart race. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But Rafe was hard to read when he wanted to be, his playful exterior a well-practiced mask that he rarely let slip. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

 “Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting. Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, your demeanor as cool and composed as ever. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. It was enough to send a jolt of electricity through him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

 “Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And Rafe had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up. But the words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest tightened.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“Come on, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know. His chest tightened, protectiveness swelling inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking slightly as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler,  “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made your heart ache even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted, your voice small and lost.

He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes soft as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away. He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone. But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice. As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety creeped in. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point. But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart. 

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“You know,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the subtle edge in his tone. “Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Excited? Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal. He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step.

 “I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze. 

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world at that moment, made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you whispered back, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate. 

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply. 

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on. 

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue. 

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

 But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more. 

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch. 

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back. 

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach. 

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.” 

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair. 

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

 "Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath. 

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge. 

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. 

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world. 

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

 "God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

 "Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out. 

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged. 

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it. 

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of." 

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

 The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

 "Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan. 

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high. 

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

 "You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. 

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you, drowning in affection. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy)

Chapter 1

The expectant smiles froze on his siblings’ faces.

Jason blinked, still shaking off the disorientation of the green twisting blur that always came when he took his turn with tHe RitUaL. “What?” he said. It came out defensive. Usually they were all laughing by this point.

Dick reached out and took the post-it off his forehead. “We may have misunderstood this sacrificial thing.” He frowned at the note.

Jason tore it away and flipped it around to read it.

“...Please stop the bridal sacrifices,” he read, voice instantly trembling with the need to laugh. Holy shit. “Proposal is kinda forward. But if you really want, I’d totally go on a date with you. Check yes or no. Danny.” There were two smiley faces after the name and a scribbled drawing of a human looking guy with tall hair.

The batcave was in total, mortified silence. The ritual that had become their pre-patrol goof-off activity of choice had maybe… maybe been a mistake?

“I’m kinda hurt,” Dick broke the silence. “I’m marriageable. I’m a catch, even.” He was joking, but Jason was pretty sure that it wasn’t totally baseless. Who would look at Dick and then choose Jason, of all the people?

Stephanie snorted. “It’s probably your reputation as Ritchie Rich,” she soothed. “I’m sure if this… is it the same guy every time?” She blinked, clearly distracted from her original thought. “Have we all been proposing to Danny day after day?” She wondered. She started counting on her fingers.

“Twice last week,” Tim said thoughtfully. “I proposed to him twice last week.” A line formed between his brows. “I should probably tell Bernard, huh?”

“We must communicate with whoever this Danny is,” Damian said immediately. “If this realm possesses both animal life that resembles our fauna and sentient beings capable of the bad judgment necessary to select Todd as a suitor over Richard, we must know more.”

Jason made a face at Damian and flipped him off, but didn’t disagree. “How is this supposed to work?” He waved the post-it. That did imply some modernity, at least. They were communicating with someone who had stationary. “If I was going to check it, would he know what I picked? Or would I have to– should be bride sacrifice a notebook back and forth?”

“A notebook,” Tim said scathingly. “We can do better than that. A communicator, a phone.”

“Who says Danny has signal, dingbat,” Jason shot back. “He’s probably out of the service area.”

Cass took the paper out of his hand and peered at it. “Yes or no,” she asked, cutting off the disagreement before it could get heated.

He didn’t have to think about it. “Yes,” Jason said, mischief in every line of his body. “I gotta see where this is going. We should at least meet the guy.”

“He said you were tempting!” Dick gasped. He grabbed Jason by the arm and clung on. “Remember? The first time? You’re his type!”

Damian made a ‘gross’ face, features scrunched up like an unhappy cat. Stephanie ‘ooooed’ like she was watching a wrestling match. Cass merely looked thoughtful.

Jason shook his annoying brother off and kept him at a distance with a palm on Dick’s forehead.

“Oooh, the void boy has a crush on you,” Stephanie teased. “You’d be such a beautiful bride, Jason.” She didn’t react to Cass reaching into her hip pouch and withdrawing a sparkly purple pen. Jason loftily ignored Stephanie and watched Cass carefully check YES.

The note disappeared. Cass looked at her empty hand. She flicked the pen between her fingers. Her brow scrunched up.

“Shit!” Jason cursed. “Did-”

The group broke out into an explosion of excited sound.

A throat cleared from the stairs. “Kids?”

Batman stood there, wearing wary suspicion and most of his patrol outfit. He was under the impression that they had agreed to stop sacrificing each other to the green void.

“She took my pen,” Stephanie wailed, instantly switching tracks. Cass backflipped away three times and then leapt directly upwards into the rafters, waiving the purple pen tauntingly. Stephanie chased after her.

“What-”

“Jason won’t let me hug him,” Dick tattletailed. He lunged to grab at Jason. Jason dodged on reflex and threw himself into the scuffle.

“I need to call Bernard.” Tim turned and outright left the Batcave. “I’ll be about five minutes late for patrol, B.”

Bruce watched this chaos with bewildered eyes. “...We leave in ten,” he said, and visibly gave up.

…

The date, when it came, was a fuckin surprise to Jason. He was minding his own business compiling a report on everything the Two-Facers had done last week. (There was a surprising amount of bureaucratic process involved in making yourself the judge, jury, and executioner of people who sucked.)

And then there was a violently green hole in his wall. “Huh,” Jason said, leaning back in his chair. He pulled the handgun out of his desk drawer and cocked it at the portal. “Not sure I care for that.”

“Thanks, wolf,” came a warbled and nonsensical reply. Jason turned off the safety.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

The portal flashed white and it closed. He was lifting his gun to point at the man now standing in his apartment before he’d actually processed that someone had come through. This guy moved fast.

“This is where you live?” The other man was peering around Jason’s apartment. He seemed politely interested at best, and, Jason felt, much less concerned by the gun than he should have been. “I heard bats before. I thought there would be more bats.” His tone was disappointed. He looked at Jason and then flinched his palms out and up, as if he thought he might have come off rude. “Not that you need bats! Or that I’m disappointed by the lack of bats in your decor. In fact you have wonderful, uh, curtains.” He very obviously named the first thing that he saw. He pretended to be fascinated by them. “The red sure is a choice.”

Jason snorted.

“A great choice! I’m not criticizing your home. It’s great.”

Jason realized that if he didn’t say anything to save him, Danny was going to ramble himself into a verbal corner and slink out of the dimension to escape his obvious embarrassment.

“...You hair looks just like in the picture you drew,” Jason said. He put the safety back on. “Hello, Danny.” The name tasted odd in his mouth. It twas just a little pedestrian for the other man– no, teenager, the other teenager.

Danny looked young. No wonder he’d thrown Dic back like the wrong fish.

Jason felt a little less smug about having been the one chosen. Maybe he was just the most age appropriate candidate, not Danny’s type. Timmers was only two years younger, sure, but he was petite enough that it was a little ambiguous.

Danny turned away from Jason’s window and beamed up at him like that was the greated compliment he could have ever received. “I don’t actually have your name! Which is funny, since you kept manifesting in my house.”

God help him, Danny was cute. Jason reached out a hand. “Jason.”

Danny looked at his outstretched hand and then back to his eyes. He blinked. “Are- oh!” He flushed green and his hand shot out to meet Jason’s in what was very clearly the first handshake of his life.

It was a struggle not to laugh. He didn’t wanna make Danny feel bad so he held it in. There was a helpful distraction in that Danny was fascinating to the touch. It didn’t feel like he was touching a human hand. First off, the hand was about the temperature of butter straight from the fridge. Secondly, somehow the physical contact made Jason taste mint in his mouth.

But really, it just… it didn’t feel like human skin. It was too smooth. There was a raised line from a scar, but the texture was as if all the wrinkles and pores of human skin had been polished off. Like if you held the hand of a marble statue and it was somehow also soft.

Jason pulled his hand away before he could wonder too much if that supernatural smoothness extended elsewhere. Ah. Too late. He flushed a little red, even though the only exposed skin was Danny’s hands and face. “So you’re here to uh, set up a date?” he offered.

Danny blinked at him. “Are you busy now? I was thinking now.”

…He was sort of busy. Jason closed his notebooks, only now concerned that Danny might have seen extremely sensitive information. “Nope,” he lied, attention catching on Danny’s freckles. Something about them was pinging as relevant. Was there a pattern? They weren’t symmetrical or anything. Were they fake?

Danny beamed and - he floated up a few inches in his excitement. Holy hell that was cute. “Great!” he enthused. “Should we go to your place or to mine?”

Uh.

Jason turned violently red. “We are already in my place.” His voice came out tight. He- he hadn’t meant that. That was not a first date activity for him.

It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. “Go out in your city or go to the Ghost Zone!” Danny waved his hands frantically. “I’m not being a creep I swear! I mean, we are kind of spiritually engaged but I’m also engaged to– are those people your friends and family?” He was outright horrified. “Oh my GOD, I’m-”

“I would love to take you out around town, but you’ll stand out,” Jason interrupted. He couldn’t hold back the smile. “We can make it work, though. Thoughts on hats and glowing less?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Danny twitched his hands outward in a motion he probably didn’t even know he was doing. There was another flash of white light that crawled up and down his body.

And Danny one was gone. Danny two stood in Jason’s apartment with dark hair, patched jeans, and a loose t-shirt that hid the musculature his jumpsuit had displayed. He had a full palette switch of his eyes and skin tone as well.

He was obviously the same guy. He just felt more down to earth now.

“Useful,” Jason said, and tugged at his snow-white forelock. “Think you could teach me to change my hair like that?” He was only half joking. It was the bane of his existence when he needed to go undercover. It was too distinctive.

“No, but Doctor Frostbite might be able to sort that out for you,” Danny replied absently.

Jason grimaced instinctively. He knew way too many gimmicky villains to want to do to someone called Doctor Frostbite. “That sounds like the name of a B-tier villain with blue hair.”

Danny paused and clearly contemplated it. “That’s Ember, actually,” which made no branding sense because the word ember evoked warm colors. “Lead the way!” He bounced on his heels, which Jason guessed was his human form equivalent to floating up.

Jason cleared his throat. “I, uh, am gonna want to change.”

For the first time, Danny really looked him up and down and realized that he was wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and black boxers. Jason waited patiently as Danny went through all the stages of grief and social mortification. That didn’t stop Danny’s eyes from followed Jason’s bare arms when he casually lifted one and flexed a little, rubbing at the back of his head. Ha. Eat that, Dick.

“I’m going to go drown myself,” Danny said, now violently pink. Huh, even blushing for a color change. “Can I use your restroom?”

“Stay alive enough to pick between Korean or Mexican,” Jason advised. “I’ll be right back. Should I find you a coat?” He didn’t wait for an answer, frowning at Danny’s bare arms. “I’m gonna find you a coat.” He was already on the way to his bedroom. “It’s freezing out.”

…

[jobean12-blog]

Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

[beenbaanbuun]

the pool w/ choi jongho

words - 3k

genre - suggestive

warnings - fem!bodied reader, bikini, internalised slut shaming (kind of but not really?), public undressing (again, kind of but not really), size kink, awkward!jongho, bff!wooyoung, lifeguard!san, massage, nipple piercings, i thing that’s it

Wooyoung holds a smug look on his face as he drops onto the sunbed next to you. You have to admit that he looks pretty good with the sun bouncing from his wet skin, but you'd never tell him that. You'd say your friendship resembled something more akin to siblings than anything else, and why would you ever have anything nice to say about your brother?

“What’s the shit-eating grin for?” you say as you toss him the sunscreen and lean forwards; an open invitation for him to massage some into your spine. The quiet scoff he passes in your direction doesn’t go unnoticed, but you can’t comment on it before you hear the click of the cap opening and an ice cold drip of sunscreen hits your back. You wince as your friend massages it in with delicate hands, your body not quite getting used to the temperature quick enough for it not to be uncomfortable as he spreads it all over. Wooyoung only laughs, taking great pleasure in the quiet hums of dissatisfaction you make.

But it only takes about 10 seconds from his hands to pull away from your back and the click of the sunscreen bottle closing to hit your ears. You spare him a glare over your shoulder, watching as he rubs the excess from his hands onto his chest knowing full well that he can't possibly have rubbed it on correctly.

“I don't have a shit eating grin,” he lies through his teeth as he takes great care rubbing the cream into his chest—a lot more than he took with your back. You almost want to push him back in the pool to wash it all off again, but that would be petty, even for you. Instead you simply roll your eyes in dismay and shift to a more comfortable position. Your book lies on the table next to you so you grab it, open it and crack the spine. You don’t start reading quite yet, though; you can’t concentrate when wooyoung looks like he’s planning something devious.

“Yes, you do,” you argue. “Tell me what you’re doing!”

“I'm not doing anything!” he fights back, tone defensive and not at all matching the gleeful smile on his face.

“Well, then tell me what you know!”

His eyes flicker to the pool for just a moment before returning to you. Maybe he thinks you didn’t see it, but you did, and so your gaze follows his only to land on him. The same man from the pool yesterday, and the restaurant last night, and breakfast this morning. The very same man you’ve been obsessing over the last few days. You squeak in something akin to terror and immediately look back to a smirking Wooyoung. Your eyes stay firmly locked on his for one, maybe two seconds before some strange magnetic force pulls your eyes back to him.

He leans against the edge of the pool with one arm up on the side, allowing you to see the soft flesh of his arms. The skin is tan and smooth and good god if you don’t get a chance to dig your nails into it by the end of the holiday then you’ll have worn nothing but your skimpiest of bikinis for nothing. The uncomfortable wedgies and uneven tan lines will have been a waste, nothing more than a study in the art of hassle and discomfort, and that really would put a damper on what has been an otherwise enjoyable holiday.

You crane your neck further to get a glance at his face. Those plush lips that look so incredibly soft, the sparkling eyes that turn a deep honey colour when the sun shines down on them. There's something beautiful about him in the same way a bear is beautiful; intimidating and graceful yet somehow sweet at the same time. Perhaps the strange duality is just one of the reasons you can’t seem to take your mind off of him. His hair is pushed back in a way that has you drooling, and not just at the mouth. You can’t help but let your eyes linger for just a second or two before they move a little further south landing upon that mole on his neck; the one you so desperately want to press your lips to…

You’re ripped from your trance when Wooyoung snaps his fingers impatiently in front of your face. With an unsurprising degree of reluctance, you tear your gaze away from him and return it to your best friend who’s smug smile seems to have grown. You’d wipe it from his face if you could, but he’s too far away and it’s far too hot to exert the energy needed to move. You scowl at him instead, tossing up a middle finger in displeasure.

“Stop being weird, Woo, nothing is going to happen,” you say through gritted teeth because god, you desperately hope that statement isn’t true.

“You want it to, though,” he seemingly reads your mind. “You should do something about it!”

“What, like you’re doing with that lifeguard?” You point to the shirtless man across the pool who has absolutely zoned out when he should really be watching the water instead. You can only hope no one has an emergency whilst he’s busy gawping at your friend who has been endlessly peacocking–not that you can say anything–since the day you arrived at this hotel. Wooyoung sends a wink in his direction before turning his attention back to you, just in time to see you fake gag.

“See; I am doing something about the lifeguard,” he grins at you.

“A wink and a smile isn’t going to get you laid.”

“Well it’s more than you’re doing with your man,” he counters, “creepily staring at him isn’t going to get you laid either.”

With a groan you toss your face down into the soft cushion of the sun bed. Wooyoung is right as much as it pains you to admit that to yourself. You want the pool guy so bad and yet all you’ve even attempted to do to seduce him is wear tiny little bikinis that haven’t seemed to catch his attention even once. At least wooyoung has some form of communication with the man he wants to fuck, even if it is just mentally undressing each other from opposite ends of the pool. Knowing your luck, by the end of the holiday wooyoung will have bagged himself the hot lifeguard and you’ll be alone… again.

Wooyoung sighs at your dramatic performance before grabbing your coin purse from the bag. “I'm going to get you some liquid courage,” he says as he stands up, “don’t ever tell me I don’t ever do anything nice for you.”

“But that’s my purs—” he puts a finger to your lip to shush you.

“Thank you is all you have to say.”

And then he’s gone, swinging his hips with each step he takes. If you were to look over to the lifeguard you’re almost sure you’d be able to see him licking his lips with desire. Almost like you when you immediately turn your head to sneak another look at him.

Only he’s not where he was when your eyes last left him. In fact, when you give the pool a scan, he doesn’t seem to be anywhere at all. Did he leave? You question yourself as you less-than-subtly scan the pool over and over again. It would probably be the best thing for your own sake if he did and yet your heart still aches at the prospect. It's not like you were going to speak to him–you absolutely, unequivocally weren’t–too shy and anxious to put yourself up for that rejection, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to pine for a little while longer.

Feeling nothing but dejected ,your eyes shift across to where Wooyoung stands at the bar, top half leaning over the counter slightly, pert ass pointed in the direction of his beau. You’d call him a slut if you hadn’t been doing the exact same for the last week; putting your body on display as some sort of mating ritual in the hopes of a man fucking you halfway to oblivion. At least one of you seems to be having some success in his tiny little swim shorts that definitely show more off than they need to. It’s a good job he has a nice ass, you think to yourself just as a shadow passes over you, blocking the warmth of the sun beating down on your back. It’s just someone walking past a little too close, you tell yourself as you keep your vision on your friend, it’ll be gone in a moment or two.

Except a moment passes, and then another, and the shadow doesn’t move. You’re about to turn your head in the direction of the obstruction to see what’s so important for you to get a them-shaped tan line on your back, when you hear a voice. “Your boyfriend didn’t rub your sunscreen in too well, did he?” It’s pretty, musical and sweet just like a little songbird. Somehow that’s all you need to know exactly who it belongs to. Call it intuition or something but you know it’s him blocking the sun right now.

Your heart beats out of control for just a second before you manage to rein it in. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you respond, turning your head to gaze upon his damp body in all its glory…

Perhaps you’re no better than a man since the first things your eyes focus on are his tits. They’re soft and beautifully tan with little moles dotted here and there to match the one on his neck. You dart your eyes between them like you’re playing your own little game of join the dots. It takes you on a tour of his chest, pupils darting from one pec to the other until your eyes land on something you never expected to see.

Two metal bars…

On either side of his chest…

Right through his nipples…

Holy fuck…

Your jaw goes slack, and so, it seems, does your hand. Thankfully the sound on your book thumping against the less than dry ground is enough to break you free from the stupor his nipple piercings had put you in. Your vision shifts in an instant, settling instead on the pages of your book that more and more water seeps into with each passing second. “Shit,” you mutter, bending down and wrapping your fingertips around the now sodden paper.

“You got it?” he asks, clearly not too put off by your strange behaviour. You hum affirmatively as you lift the book and place it on the table beside your sunbed. He makes a similar sound, although his sounds more thoughtful; more like he’s trying to come up with something to say. It takes a while but eventually he seems to finally land on something, pulling in a deep breath before opening his mouth. “I could've grabbed it for you if you wanted,” he’s kind too? Well that’s horrible news for your crippling obsession with the stranger, “if you’d, you know… asked me to or something.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how unsure he sounds. It’s as if his words aren’t his own, dropping from his lips before he’s even had time to realise what he’s saying. There’s a grin on your face as you twist your head back around to see him, only this time your eyes focus on his face. He’s even sweeter looking up close, his wide eyes and round cheeks making him look something more akin to a little cub than an intimidating killer. Perhaps his face would kid you into thinking he’s innocent if it weren’t for the bars glinting at you just a foot further south.

“I shouldn't have to ask,” you grin, trying your hardest to sound seductive. To your own ears it sounds more like a petulant child; you can only hope that he doesn’t hear it too. “Not if you’re a gentleman, anyway.

“But what about consent?” he says as a pretty shade of peach covers his cheeks. You want to bite them, as if they’d give you the same sweet juice as the fruit they so clearly resemble. You wonder if his lips taste that sweet; you bet they do. “I didn't want to overstep.”

Your grin splits your face in two as he shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot. Upon first glance, you were half expecting him to be some suave, smooth talker. He'd say a few flirty pick up lines before taking you to his room for a one-and-done. This, though—this is much more dangerous. This is feelings territory.

“You’re not overstepping by picking my book up,” you say, “that’s simply courteous—gentlemanly, like i said!”

“Courteous,” he repeats slowly as if it’s a new word to him. there’s a ponderous look on his face that quickly morphs into a shy smirk. It seems to transform into something much more confident in the matter of a few seconds. It's almost cocky, and yet there remains to be that sweet, unsure look in his eyes. It's adorable, really. “Well,” he pauses to take stock of his next few words, “would it be courteous to offer to finish rubbing in the sunscreen your boyfriend missed?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you repeat.

“Well–”

“Just rub it in, will you?” you cut him off with an exasperated sigh. As much fun as you’re having playing this little game of cat and mouse, the need to have his hands on your back far outweighs any amusement you’re getting from his pitiful attempt at flirting. He listens, placing one hand on your calf to support himself as he perches himself on the edge of your sunbed. It inches its way up to your inner thigh, stopping just before it gets dangerously close to your core. His thumb barely brushes against the exposed crease where your ass meets your thigh as he softly grazes his fingertips over the back of your leg. They shift to the side, gracefully slipping over the thin string of your bikini bottoms that rests upon your hip. They catch against it, tugging ever so slightly on the bow that holds the flimsy garment together.

It's a promise, that much is crystal clear.

His palm is warm when it first comes into contact with your lower back, yet it still manages to send a shiver up your spine. It’s big too, covering just enough area for you to realise how small you are compared to him. You could see it in his broad shoulders and his thick arms, but feeling it is just… different. He’s barely even touched you yet there’s already a moan on the tip of your tongue. God only knows what’ll happen when his hands get a little more adventurous.

“Can I undo your top?” he approaches the question with about as much grace as a baby giraffe, clumsy yet endearing with the way he blurts it out. It’s impossible to hold in your giggle, your heart swelling with just how awkwardly adorable he is. But then his fingers tug dangerously upon the little bow at your spine and your breath suddenly hitches in your throat. You feel it loosen, but not quite enough for it to fall completely open. It’s not quite clear if he’s just clumsy or if he knows exactly what he’s doing, but either way the simple action has you shifting your slick thighs against each other. “Well?” he softly purrs, and by the tone of his voice you have to assume he's so blissfully unaware of everything he’s doing to you.

“If you think it’ll help,” your voice sounds strained but he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t tease you about how much he’s affecting you, or do something unprovoked to force you deeper into this pit of unadulterated arousal you’ve found yourself in. Instead he just tugs open your bikini, just like he said he would, and then his hands are on you again.

The first moan you let out as he grazes his hands up and down the plane if your back can be passed off as one of enjoyment. The massage you’re receiving from the big strong hands of an unbearably handsome man is just good and the sound you let out is simply one of appreciation. No one can blame you for wanting to show how much you’re enjoying it, right? The second moan, however, is almost impossible to pass off as anything other than a plea for more. As his fingers dip down your sides, hands cupping your waist and making you feel so small and malleable beneath him, you can’t help but groan as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

His fingers pause, hands tensing a little as the grip they have upon your waist intensifies. Although you haven’t exactly tried to hide it, you know that this is the exact moment that just how badly you need him really sinks into his adorably awkward brain. You’re not entirely sure what else he was hoping to get out of giving you the world's horniest massage, but it’s clear that he wasn’t expecting to get this far. Maybe he’s just a pervert who just wanted an opportunity to feel you up before going to furiously masterbate in the comfort of his room, or maybe he really did just want to come and talk. It doesn’t really matter either way, now; you still need his cock buried deep inside of your walls.

He leans in, grip intensifying as his torso comes to rest against your spine. The metal bars that you nearly almost forgot about feel like ice against your spine as he pushed you down into the bed with his body. Small; you feel so incredibly small, like it would take him no effort at all to pick you up and put you anywhere he deems he wants you. You hope he wants you sitting on his dick, if that really is the case.

“Do you want to come back to my room?” he whispers in your ear like a child passing a message in the middle of class. Nothing about his voice reads sexy, and yet you know if you were standing it would have your knees buckling. you nod silently, not trusting your voice to come out in a way that doesn’t make you seem pathetically desperate. He hums in appreciation. “good,” his lips connect with the side of your head, “the names Jongho, by the way. just in case you need something to moan.”

[rebelspykatie]

Steve comes from a long line of only children. He’s the last one standing after his mother dies, left alone on a barren family tree. This deep longing for an extended family made a home in Steve’s soul at a young age. For so long, it was only Steve and his mother. She raised him as best she could, but Steve never wanted that lonely existence. 

Finding someone that would want that life with him didn’t pan out the way he thought it would. Dating in Hawkins was limited and if he wanted to be truthful with people, also dangerous. Robin was the best dating app mishap turned best friend Steve could’ve hoped for, and she encouraged him to look into solo parenting, promising to be his platonic coparent every step of the way. 

Before his transition, he started a grueling IVF journey. Wanted to quit more times than he wanted to carry on. It didn’t take the first time, and Robin was there to hold him when he wasn’t sure he could handle another round of it. They didn’t know how lucky they’d get the second time. 

Dustin was born just after Thanksgiving that year, and he turned into a precocious toddler faster than Steve could blink. He had this mass of hair that Steve was in awe of, the height definitely coming from him but the curls were a mystery gift from their donor. Steve loved his chubby cheeks and toothless smile more than anything on earth. 

Everything about Dustin brightened up Steve’s world, even when his screams kept Steve and Robin awake all night, or he spit up on Steve’s shirt right before work and he had to change into a questionably dirty shirt because he hadn’t had time for laundry. Steve loved it all. He especially loved how smart his kid was, shooting straight to the top of his class, reading above grade level, doing math equations faster than Steve could comprehend. Robin joked that the donor must have some strong nerd genes to come from Steve and be that much of a math genius. 

He doesn’t actually know much about the donor, other than the recording he has from the interview and a brief profile of his family’s medical history. It might be silly, but Steve ended up picking this donor because of his laugh. It was melodic, ringing in the air long after he finished laughing, and something about it pulled at Steve’s heart in a way the others didn’t. 

Steve doesn’t hide much from Dustin, there’s no point really when your kid’s a genius, but he doesn’t give Dustin the file until he turns 11, doesn’t even hint at it. While Dustin is a curious kid, he’s also got a knack for knowing when to press an issue or not. He had a lot of questions about the process, but always shied away from asking more about how Steve chose or who his donor was. When they finally talked about it as Steve handed over the file to Dustin on his eleventh birthday, Dustin said he always knew Steve chose to have him and that was all that mattered. 

But once he gets his hands on that file, the curiosity voyage sets sail and Dustin’s chasing leads on who this man is like he’s in an episode of scooby doo. The agency will only give them the contact information they had on file 12 years ago. It’s a long shot, expecting someone’s number to be the same, but it’s all they have. A single phone number. 

When a gruff voice answers the phone and Steve explains the situation, the man on the other line agrees to meet them. The address he gives is for the Munson ranch about an hour outside of town. He knows about the ranch in the same way everyone in a small town knows of each other. He’s never been there, but the owner brings a lot of money into the town and mostly keeps to himself. His nephew was a few years ahead of Steve in school, but they never crossed paths. 

It turns out there’s only one Munson left in Hawkins, and Steve’s pretty sure the bald man that’s twice Steve’s age and looks down his nose at Steve and Dustin, isn’t the donor. Recognition sparks in his eyes, though, when Dustin starts talking, some of that defensiveness melting off his face. It’s softening into the same fondness Steve has when looking at Dustin, that inescapable way he pulls you into his orbit and snatches your heart right up. He lets Dustin take the reins, watching Wayne fall under Dustin’s spell.

His first words after Dustin’s long rambling opener about their predicament are, “Your hair looks just like his at that age.” 

Hope blooms in Steve’s chest. He’d been afraid that they wouldn’t find anything, or what they found might disappoint Dustin. But there’s someone out there that’s half of Dustin. Someone that might have given him all these little quirks that Steve’s so fond of. Someone that might want to be a part of his life, even if Steve isn’t sure he’s ready for that. 

Wayne explains that his nephew is out of town with his band, touring somewhere until the end of the month when they come home for the holidays. That’s only two weeks away and it doesn’t give Steve long to prepare for meeting someone that helped bring the best thing into his life, but it’s enough time for Wayne to welcome them into his home with an open heart.

It’s just long enough for Steve to find out that Eddie grew up on the ranch with Wayne and his father, who abandoned them when Eddie was about Dustin’s age. To find out that Eddie always loved music more than the horses and took off the first chance he got once he had the funds. To see pictures along a mantle of another precocious kid with a wild mane of hair that looks about as unstoppable as Dustin. 

Robin comes with them the night they’re going to meet Eddie. It’s a few days after he’s returned from tour. Wayne wanted enough time to prepare him before getting Dustin’s hopes all the way up. When they got the okay, Steve wasn’t sure he could do it alone, so Robin is glued to his side when they pull up at the ranch and come face to face with Edde Munson. 

But Steve relaxes when he sees the same wide grin on Eddie’s face that he sees on Dustin’s every day. And he doesn’t know it yet, but maybe he’s finally filled out that family tree and found the home he never knew he needed, with branches for Robin, Dustin, and maybe two Munsons.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #1 (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: After being dead on this account for years, like Christ (or bread?), I have risen (I'm not religious). The point is, if you are new to this series, welcome! I am rewriting this series for myself (and anyone still reading after all this time). It is something I want to see through and that I loved re-reading all these years later. The original reception was so warm and lovely, sometimes making me feel guilty for leaving so abruptly. I loved every reblog, comment, tag, and like for this series. I hope that if you're still here, you like the remake. This series DOES contain sensitive matters such as kidnapping, death, torture, sexual themes, and more. If you struggle with this material please know you are not alone and always reach out for help. I will be making a new masterlist once I have more chapters out. Please let me know what you think and enjoy! - Much love, Em <3

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Next Chapter: Tape #2

WARNING: stalking, mention of kidnapping, blood, cursing, and sensitive material ahead.

Tape Contents: You start recording videos for the BAU once you find out you have a stalker.

Word Count: 2,196

Tape #1- December 29, 20XX

Your face looks a little apprehensive as you move away from the webcam on your computer. Your eyes flick off the screen, leaning forward to read something as if you had planned out a script for yourself. You wave at the camera, offering the lens a weak and shy smile. Your posture slumps for a second, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I,” you frown at the camera, “I’m not good at talking to myself on video, it seems.” 

“I guess bluntness might be a saving grace for both of us,” you whisper as you play with a ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down your finger, “You know that feeling you get when you’re driving home late at night and you think to yourself, ‘Oh my god. I think that car behind me is following me.’ I think it all started with that.” A hand reaches for your hair, and you timidly move a stray strand away from your eyes. 

“I tried everything I could think of and kept turning randomly, but it was too late. I would rush up to my apartment, and across the street would the same red van every fucking weekend. I tried to get the plate one day as I watched them leave from my window, but no such luck.” You swallow thickly, your voice suddenly full of emotion. 

A sad smile crosses your face as you shake your head, “Fucking dumb, this is so fucking dumb.” you cry softly as tears dance along your lash line. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders back in a desperate attempt to regain your composure. 

You hold up a wilted, purple rose. Loose petals fall as you twist the stem between your thumb and index. “Got this last night, just on my windshield.” You mutter with a tone of disdain. “Don’t even like roses.” you joke lightly as you set the rose on your desk. 

“I’m going to the police tomorrow. I just… thought maybe doing this would make me feel better,” you pause and let out a bitter laugh, leaning toward the camera, “It hasn’t.” 

Then the screen goes black. 

Tape #2- January 3, 20XX. 

Your eyes have bags under them, and you gently rub the bridge between them. “So, got told off by the police.” 

You lean back in your desk chair and shake your head before pointing accusingly at the camera. “Went to the station, brought my stupid fucking rose and everything. They told me they would patrol the area. Of course, what car do I not see across the street anymore? That fucking red van. Guy told me that I was just imagining things.” 

You relax for a second before speaking again, your shoulders squaring defensively. “And! And, the second they leave, guess who is back again. Every single weekend, 7 pm to 11 pm.” You let out a weary sigh and rest an arm on your desk, staring directly into the camera. 

“The Police said they couldn’t even do anything until something boarding physical assault happens.” You trail off with a sideways glance away from the screen. 

“I’m not going to just sit idly by waiting to get assaulted.” You hiss out, leaning forward and stopping the video. 

Tape #3- January 14, 20XX 

You’re playing with the edges of your sweater as you lean back into your chair, rocking slightly. “Got another love present today,” Your voice distant as you pull a Polaroid from the desk, holding it up for the camera to see. 

The Polaroid was of you at the library where you worked. You were sitting in a striped sweater, your hair down. You were smiling at one of the volunteers who works ‘story hour.’ You threw the picture back on the desk with a grimace. 

“No one told me that my sweater that day looked so hideous.” You croak out in a desperate attempt to make yourself laugh in the moment, and for a second, it works. You start with a slight chuckle, but it quickly takes a sharp turn for the worst and becomes a full-on sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before you wipe tears from under your eyes, “I’m just scared. My mom and I talked about it, and she said that maybe it was a ‘secret admirer,’ which… does not make it any better. I feel like everyone thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice raises before you cut yourself off and look down at your sweater again. 

“I’m not,” 

Camera off.

Tape #4- January 17, 20XX

You smile at the camera and scoot a little closer. “Hey,” you say with a gentle sigh of relief, “Great news—I’m organized!”

You lean back and relax in your chair slightly, “So I’m Y/N L/N. I work as a librarian here in Richmond, Virginia. My apartment will be in my records, I’m sure.” You laugh out softly, holding up a photo of a tattoo that seems to reside on your lower collarbone. 

“I didn’t want to flash the camera, so I took the liberty of taking a photo of this lovely tattoo of mine,” you say, glancing at the photo of the line-art floral tattoo next to your face. “If you think this doesn’t seem like me… well, you’re partially right. I was drunk in Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, and then I woke up missing a good chunk of money and a tattoo.” You shrug as you slowly set the photo on your desk. 

“I’m not trying to freak anyone out if they do see this. I just…” you pause, releasing a slow and controlling breath, “I want to be found if I do go missing. I want to be easily identified if I’m not alive. I want people to know I was a person and not just a body, you know?” You let your lips grow into a weak smile, nodding slightly, seeming to agree with yourself. 

“I’m making these to help myself, to feel like I have more control. The presents stopped recently, but they’re still watching me every weekend. It feels like it's about to get worse. I can’t explain it. I’m not trying to make the police feel bad. I just… don’t like going down without a fight.” 

“Speaking of not going down without a fight,” You reach over to grab a photo and proudly turn it over to the camera. “You know who this is?” You ask your silent audience. “This is the lovely Jennifer Jareau.” You answer with a weak smile, feeling strange as you talk with yourself. 

“I decided to beg the police to email this video folder to her. Currently, just the police have this, as I’m annoying and persistent but also very charming. That’s a lie. My coworker's boyfriend’s friend works at the station. Hopefully,” You swallow gently as the photo slips away from your fingers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to send it to her and the BAU team, but in the unfortunate case, she does see this.” You smile, wave a little, mouth a soft ‘hello,’ and lean forward—screen black. 

Tape #5- February 10, 20XX

You’re wearing a red, pink, and white striped sweater with a white headband pushing your hair back as the camera focuses again on you. “Happy Early Valentine’s Day to everyone who got a gift from their stalker on the top of their car today,” you say with mock happiness before your smile falls, and you hold up a copy of Wuthering Heights. 

You flip through the pages before stopping on one and facing it toward the camera, trying to get it to focus, but you quickly find the task irritating. You groan and decide to read the line, “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad.”

“That's one of the lines circled, underlined, and highlighted…” You say, flipping through more pages slowly. 

“The only scenes highlighted seem to involve Heathcliff and Catherine, which are romantic scenes, of course, but just that one quote is emphasized.”  You say, shaking your head, and you laugh a little, setting the book somewhere outside the frame. 

“What a shitty gift, I already have a copy.” You joke before the screen turns black. 

Tape #6- February 14, 20XX

Your face is flush red, eyes swollen and raw from crying as you sit in front of the camera, speechless for a short amount of time. You look positively catatonic for a second, unmoving. The sound of you raking in a shaking breath scares you as you bring yourself to speak. Your face doesn’t match your attire, as you sport a sweater with a giant pink heart in the center and small heart-shaped earrings hanging from your ears. 

“They were in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse. “They were in here, everywhere. They left roses everywhere. They were in here! They got into my apartment and left dozens of rose petals on my bed, floors, couch, and kitchen table!” Your voice raises in volume as you cut yourself off, a small tear rolling down your cheek. 

“Something isn’t right,” You were shaking your head and letting out fast breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “This is all getting so,” you raise your hands to run through your curls, pulling gently. “I need you to find me. I’m doing so much already. I went to the police station, and they searched everything: cameras, streets, but there was nothing! Just petals!” You yell softly, voice rasping softly at the end of your outburst. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you mumble softly, tears filling your eyes. 

Tape #7- February 17, 20XX

You smile awkwardly at the camera and hold up Jane Eyre, opening it to a dog-eared page. “You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel.” You read off the quote softly with a light sigh at the end of your reading. 

“Seems like we have a Brontë fan in our midst,” you try to be light-hearted as you set the book to the side. 

“I wrote down all my passwords, but it's not like you’ll need them. Nonetheless, you can never be too safe.” You quip the sentence in a soft voice. 

“I’m trying my hardest not to do anything crazy. I just, nevermind.” You say, annoyance thick in your voice as you shut the camera off quickly. 

Tape #8- March 2, 20XX

A terrible gnawing was growing in your stomach. Your hands clutched your waist gently as you leaned back in your chair. You felt like you might be sick as you stared off-camera toward your newest ‘gift.’ Your throat felt taut as you swallowed, a shaky sigh coming from your lips as your pale face looked at the camera. 

“I’m scared this might be my last video,” you say, your voice hoarse and tense, “It all just suddenly stopped. There was no more red van, no more gifts—nothing to write home about, but today,” 

You lean over to pull a pair of white, blood-soaked panties from a plastic bag into the frame. “These were on my door knob today when I got home. I tried not to touch it. I put it in this bag to ensure I didn’t contaminate it more. It doesn’t look like blood blood, more like period blood.” As you throw the bag back to your desk, your voice edges into an emotional tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

 “I think that they’re mine,” You cried softly, shaking slightly as you tried to control your breathing, “Th-the panties, not the blood. I haven’t, those can’t be from my period. Mine hasn’t come y-”

“I’m not going to be okay. I was stupid to think I might be, but I’m not!” You cry into your hands, and your shoulders shake as you let out a weak sob. “Please find me if I go missing. Please,” Tears fall on your cheeks as you lean toward the computer. 

“I need you to find me.” 

March 5, 20XX. 

A clicker is in J.J.’s hand as she turns off the videos. “Richmond PD sent this over this morning when twenty-eight-year-old Y/N L/N didn’t show up to her job,” She hands out folders as she speaks, “Her coworker called her mother to see if she had gone out of town when she said no. Y/N’s coworker’s boyfriend called a cop friend to check her apartment and found no trace of her or anyone else in her apartment. They sent this video folder over the second he called it in.” 

Spencer was frowning as he flipped through the pages of your file, hating the idea that you knew. He knew that dread, that feeling when something bad was about to happen to you. That innate and raw feeling that pushes through a person like a wave. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch is already speaking before he can get the chance to. 

“We leave here in ten,” He says before leaving the room, cutting everyone’s comments short in one small miraculous moment. 

Within ten minutes, the team finds themselves away from their jet, stuffed into groups in black SUVs, barreling toward Richmond. 

[navierae]

Because I Missed You

CHARACTERS: James Potter x Reader Summary: An unexpected reunion with your old friends from Hogwarts causes your once buried feelings for the spectacled boy to resurface unexpectedly. a/n: bye this is my first time writing this long and for James Potter no less BUT WHO WOULDNT AM I RIGHT. anyway i hope you guys enjoy! likes, comments, feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated !! wc: 2.3k

“It’s the same old feeling back again, it’s the one they had way back when they were too young to know when love is real.”

“That would be $23.45.”

“Hold on,” I open my wallet to take the exact amount out and hand it over to the cashier, making sure that nothing falls, “Here you go.”

“I received the exact amount.” The cashier says, counting how much I gave before putting it in the register and handing over my receipt, “Come again.”

“Thank you.” I take the paper bag containing my groceries, trying to hide how I was slightly struggling with carrying it, my arm strength was something that I was never proud of, makes me glad that I use a wand for self-defense instead of my fists when need be.

I step out of the grocery store and start my journey back to the small apartment I know a few blocks away. It's been a few years since I graduated from Hogwarts, and a few months since I decided to live amongst the muggles. After that incident during 7th year, I thought it was in my best interest to distance myself from anyone who knows me or could possibly recognize me. Though I still keep in touch with some of them, namely Lily Evans, and to be fair, she's really the only I still talk to that has any relation to the wizarding world.

I make it halfway to my apartment when I spot the cafe I frequent during my free time. I need a break, I think to myself as I feel the dull ache in my arms starting to form from carrying my grocery bags. I push the cafe doors open, the smell of coffee and pastries immediately greeting me, as well as the sound of customers talking. My eyes scan the menu, trying to find something I have yet to order, before settling on the Jasmine tea and blueberry muffin. Turns out I'm not in the mood to try something new today.

I go to stand in line behind a group of men who seem to be my age, they're a bit loud if you ask me. Okay, scratch that, they're loud. A guy with the black hair is laughing loudly, and the brunette is pushing him by the shoulder, and the last guy is just looking away. I sigh, looking to the side, trying not to pay attention to them. Just order, pay, wait for it, eat, and then go ho-

“Y/n?”

What. I look back at the front to see who called me, the black haired guy now facing me, I quickly glance at his whole being before focusing on his face. There's no mistaking it, even after all these years, how can I forget him?

“Sirius?” I ask, eyes wide in shock, I didn't expect to see him here. What was he doing here? Wait, if he's here, then the other two are-

“Prongs, Moony, I told you it's y/n!” Sirius taps both of them on the shoulder with a grin on his face, they both turn around with shocked faces mirroring mine. “It’s so good to see you again, y/n! It's been a while hasn't it?” 

I nod with an unsure smile on my face, “Yeah, it has.” I look over them one by one, to see what had changed since the last time I saw them, which was at least three or four years ago now. Remus, who's smiling at me, and Sirius both hadn't changed much, except for the fact that Sirius’ hair is much longer and Remus sporting some scars that weren't there the last time I saw him.

And James… I turn to James and see him wearing the same glasses he wore back then, and the same boyish grin he gave everyone he would come across. His face had a shocked expression on before our eyes met, it turned into one with an awkward smile as he tried to mask whatever he was feeling at the moment. Disgust and the urge to leave as quickly as possible I assume. 

He opens his mouth to say something when the girl at the counter calls out the next customer, making him turn around along with Remus and Sirius, to give their orders. I stare at their backs, their voices mixing into the background, who would've thought I would run into them here out of all places? 

I focus my attention on them as they finish ordering with James paying and leaving to find a seat first, Sirius and Remus face me with hopeful smiles on their faces. “Are you busy? We were hoping we could catch up for a bit, who knows when we would see each other after this?” Remus asks, nodding his head to the direction where James went, eager to hear my answer. 

…That shouldn't be too bad right? Just a quick catch up then we'll be in our separate ways after this. I nod at them, their smiles growing as they leave to follow James. I step forward and dictate my order while reaching for my wallet, the girl behind the register stops me as I hand over the amount needed. 

“Oh, no need to pay, one of the guys before you offered to pay for whatever you would order.” I furrow my eyebrows before thanking her and walking away to where the boys were seated. “You didn't need to pay for me.” I say as I approached their table, James looks up from their conversation and makes eye contact.

“I know, but I wanted to.” He says smiling, not breaking eye contact, as if daring me to go against him. I stayed silent and stared at him for a few seconds, before saying thanks and sat down at the unoccupied seat. Which was, unfortunately, next to James. The table goes quiet, a somewhat awkward silence falling on us. I busy myself by playing with my fingers under the table and staring at the pattern of the table, when Sirius speaks up.

“So… how have you been y/n? No one has really heard from you since we graduated a few years back.” I look up and see all of them staring at me, the sight taking me back to Hogwarts, where they would be looking at me while listening to me rambling about my day. The only difference was we had grown older, our faces slowly losing our teenage features, being replaced with signs of aging.

I tap my fingers on the tabletop, following the rhythm of the music played by the cafe, wondering where and what to start with. I take a deep breath and open my mouth, deciding to say whatever I think about first.

“I’ve been doing pretty well, you know, with adjusting to living amongst the muggles and living life the way they do.” Smiling, I waited for them to answer after I asked the same question. Sirius says he’s been the lead singer for one of the muggle bands he joined, and that the band had a gig nearby. That explains why they were here in the first place, what were the chances that they would be at this particular cafe out of the numerous other ones that are spread around this town? 

Remus talks about how he became a professor at Hogwarts for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and shared how he would see Severus Snape from time to time and exchange glaring glances at one another. Our conversation was interrupted by our orders getting called to be picked up at the counter. I was about to stand up when a hand was placed on my shoulder, stopping me in place, his hand searing. 

“I’ll get it.” 

He said, smiling at me as he stood up, before walking off. The warmth from his hand had gone cold too quickly, taking it with him, it had only been a few seconds but I was starting to miss it- 

Stop that. Stop that right now. 

My eyes widened as I realized the words that had gone through my mind, that was a highly inappropriate thought about someone, your ex-boyfriend no less. I shake my head and put my focus back on Sirius and Remus in front of me, about to tell Remus to continue his stories while waiting for James to come back, which shouldn’t take him too long. But their eyes were somewhere else, I followed their gaze and saw James talking to a girl our age, well more like the girl was talking to James as he was trying to get our order. We were too far from the counter to hear what it was they were talking about, but judging from how the girl was looking him up and down, I was certain it was flirty remarks disguised as a casual conversation. 

“Ohoho, seems like Prongs has another one trying to get his number, huh Moony? Isn’t she, like, the fifth one today?” Sirius laughs loudly as he swings an arm around Remus’ chair, leaning forward to get a better view of what was happening, the latter just sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t forget to mention that it's only our second day here, and she’s the fifteenth one since yesterday. And I’m pretty sure they all tried to ask him on a date as well.” 

“All tried to ask him on a date”? Did he accept any of those offers? I mean, he doesn’t have a reason to not give one of them a shot, especially if they’re extremely attractive like that girl he’s talking to right now. Makes me wonder how many people asked him out the past few years. Wait, is he even seeing someone right now-

“y/n, stop staring at him so hard, you might burn a hole through him.” I snap out of my train of thought as Sirius taps the space in front of my hand, catching my attention. “You look like how you did when other people asked him out to the yule ball back at hogwarts.” He continued while laughing, my face falling at his comment. Had I been actually…? 

Remus gets startled as he notices the change in my facial expression, he slaps Sirius at his arm while telling him to cut it out, the latter letting out a small yelp at the impact. Remus turns to face me again, slightly hesitating, the next words that came out of his mouth made me grab my things and stand up. 

“But… Do you still like him, y/n?” 

“I’m leaving, it was good to see you guys.” I say as I start heading towards the door, making Remus and Sirius stand up while calling after me. 

Did I actually still like him, even after having no-contact for years? The question remained in my mind as I walked out of the cafe, missing the way James’ expression turned into one of panic when he spotted me going out. Excusing himself from the (one-sided) conversation the girl was having with him and rushing after me, forgetting about the orders. I hear someone yelling out my name, but I pay it no mind, instead opting to yell back. “I have to go, sorry!” 

“y/n, wait a minute!” 

A hand wraps around my wrist, the one that wasn’t carrying anything but my purse, stopping me from going forwards. I turn back and see James panting a bit, his hair ruffled from running, small beads of sweat starting to drip down the sides of his forehead due to the heat of his jacket. We both stopped in the middle of the walkway, no one speaking, the only sounds that can be heard were from around us and his breaths, his hand still keeping me bound to where I stood. 

After catching his breath, he stands up straight, making eye contact with me. “Why’d you leave?” He asks, his eyes searching mine for an answer. I shift and look away, pursing my lips, unsure of what to answer.

“I have things to do.” 

“But your order?”

“I can live without it.” 

Silence falls on us again, my answers rendering him unable to keep the conversation going, and getting the answers that would satisfy his curiosity. I was about to pull my wrist out of his grip, and excuse myself to leave, when he spoke up again.

“I missed you.” I look back at him upon hearing his straight-forward statement. He had missed me? 

“...You did?” He nodded, not missing a beat. Everyday ever since you left he adds. I didn't speak after that,I wasn’t about to let him know that I was the same as him, that there was also never a day that I never thought about him. 

“Can I have your number? So that we can hang out again after this, if you want?” 

“...Alright.” I nod and recite my telephone number, watching as he mouthed the numbers to remember, repeating it two more times. Cute. 

“I can, um, help you with that if you want? It's quite a lot.” He offers to carry some of my groceries, his head gesturing to the paper bags in my other arm. I shake my head, refusing his offer. 

“It’s fine, I can handle it. But, I really have to go now.” I tell him, turning my body away from him, taking my wrist out of his grip in the process. He wants to say something, but ultimately decides against it as he nods his head in understanding. 

“Okay… can we meet each other at this cafe tomorrow then?” He asks.

“I… don’t see why not. Sirius and Remus are also going to be there right?” 

He shakes his head. “No, just the two of us tomorrow.”

I furrow my eyebrows at his answer. Don’t assume things, y/n, ask him why first before you get ahead of yourself.

“Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

[kuroppiii]

  tough as nails ᵕ̈       boyfie!msby boys       x nail tech!gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : when you want ⋮⋮  to practice some designs ⋮⋮  and they volunteer them- ⋮⋮  selves as your test dummy !

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛     ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 🥛     ♡ # ~2.5𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ ik that ' s not really the context of the saying in the title but i couldn ' t think of anything else ! nail pics as with all my other header pics are from pinterest <3 also lmk if you want to see more characters for this prompt bc highkey i loveee looking through nail designs lol ”

︴hinata shōyō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

this is not this man's first time around some nail polish

natsu used to paint his nails all the time, so he’s so down!

big color inspo from the colors of a classic blue and yellow mikasa volleyball because of his love for the sport (obvi)

howeverrr switching out the yellow for a bit more of an orange hue to go with his hair <3

also!!! some tropical floral designs as an homage to his time in brazil

a super fun vibe for a bright and go-lucky guy :)

when you first take his hand in yours, the tips of his ears start to redden a little bit

"hey shō are your ears alright–?" [you]

"your hands are so soft." [hinata]

"okay, shō." [you] (totally not fighting back a smile)

he's held your hand countless times but for some reason this–you holding his hand so gently and focusing in on it as you start prepping his nail beds–feels so much more intimate

seeing your face as you're so focused on him and his hands makes him blush lowk but good thing you're looking down and can't see how flustered he obviously is

like for someone so talkative, he's silent and almost as attentive as you the whole time and he's not even the one doing the work

you also notice he holds his breath every time you make the nail polish make contact with his nails until you finally lift back up CUTIEEE

“love, you know you can breathe, right?” [you]

“i don’t want to mess you up though! you’re doing so great by the way, babe.” [hinata]

cups your face when his nails are finally set and dry and you can see his eyes dart between your facial features and his nails contrasting against your skin and his smile gets bigger in real time

then he gives you a biggg kiss as a thank you for your hard work

definitely goes to every one of his teammates in the msby locker room his next practice to show them the nails

on tvs, cellphones, laptops and countless other kinds of screens everywhere: the camera following the msby jackals' game whips around to land their sights on hinata shōyō.

ten seconds remain on the clock. the jackals are behind their opponents by the most miniscule handful of points. in a last-ditch effort, atsumu's in place, and in a matter of seconds hinata is already high in the air.

the ball is met with a collision from the redhead's hand and quickly surpasses any of the opposition's lines of defense. an abrasive buzzer blares throughout the area and the msby jackals all start to jump onto one another with screams and yells and high fives in celebration.

"another excellent shot by hinata! what a way for the jackals to clutch this game folks!" a commentator excitedly blabbers.

"let's take another look at that one, shall we?" another accompanying commentator beckons.

time slows on screen during the instant replay–from the moment hinata gets in front of the net, to the moment his feet leave the ground, and especially as his arm is reeled back moments before the winning shot.

the camera takes the liberty of zooming in on hinata’s hand then. it captures the precise moment when his purest love and energy for volleyball surges through his body. the unseen electricity has ricocheted throughout him to finally trail up to his fingertips, adorned with colors that showcase the blend of his identity with the same ball his skin almost adoringly caresses for a second in the eyes on the slow-mo cam footage.

blue and yellow, blue and orange side-by-side in front of thousands and millions of eyes to witness as the ninja shōyō’s manicured hand follows through and pushes that volleyball past the net to bring his team to victory.

︴sakusa kiyoomi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

as babygirl as sakusa kiyoomi is, black’s just really his vibe i think

not on like some emo shit but the black would go really well with not only his hair but his iconic beauty marks above his eye

speaking of his hair, the cyber tribal chrome kind of sitch kinda alludes to his curls :0

i mean to the rest of the world he’s this stoic and serious guy all the time

but they don't see how he looks at you while you paint the finer details on his nails

or the subtle and soft dopey smile he’s got on as he asks you in lovestruck whispers about your technique, how work's going, what materials you use, etc.

"and... what's this for now?" [sakusa]

"it's to make sure your nails stay nice and strong for whenever you hit your incredible spikes, omi." [you]

"oh, that's definitely important. wouldn't want to skip that." [sakusa] (before you laugh at his little joke and his heart skips a beat and he gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head as you continue to work)

once the nails are finished, he goes to look at them with his fingers clawed–boyishly characteristic of a dude who's never gotten his nails done like this before

you can't help but laugh and he asks what's wrong

"what do you mean i'm looking at them weird?" [sakusa]

"your hands look like when you posed with the msby jackal mascot that one time." [you]

"how else am i supposed to look at them?" [sakusa]

you demonstrate how people normally check out their nails at the salon

and then it delves into a mini hand modeling lesson and many, many, giggles between the two of you as he tries to figure it out

you end up with some new reference pics of his set for any of your future clients, what a supportive boyfriend!

a certain photo is going viral as it makes its rounds online. the photographer who took it had to have known they struck gold capturing this certain moment, and the racking number of likes and comments are only affirmations of that.

it's a professional shot of sakusa kiyoomi mid-game. late-game, actually, as its evident though the state of his appearance in the picture.

visible droplets dot his face and figure, giving his skin and curly hair a certain sheen that proves the dedication he puts into every one of the msby jackals' games. to combat the sweat that's accumulated on himself, it seems like sakusa had absentmindedly reached for the edge of his jersey to act as a substitute for a towel in that particular moment (his expression is clearly focused on nothing but what might've been happening next on the other side of the court net). the muscles that adorn his torso peek out from the action.

and on top of it all–the sweat, the abs, the way the rest of the jersey clings to the rest of his body–the subtle chrome detailing of his nails stand out where his hand tugs the fabric to wipe at the bottom of his face...

and you hadn't even really caught on to this picture online yourself. the only reason you went to look it up for yourself was because of the influx of work emails you had received since the jackals' last win.

the public was vaguely aware you specialized in cosmetics, as sakusa had alluded to now and then in press conferences and interviews. however, it wasn't really until people online started to wonder where your boyfriend got these nails from did google's reverse-image search bring them to the pictures on your profile that you and sakusa took post- his manicure.

to say your clientele grew overnight, would be quite the understatement.

︴miya atsumu ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

ik the picture is a bit blurry but PLEASE stick with me here yall 🙏 HEAR ME OUT

heavy on that barbie ken atsumu sort of agenda

you ask if he had any colors in mind

and he’s like "y'know what? fuck it. go big or go home."

he knows people might shit on him for having his nails done at his next game so yeah get the most stereotypically “feminine” color you got–just to mess with whatever losers might whine about it

“but... do ya think pink would look good on me y/n?” [atsumu] (AND HE'S KIND OF SHY WHEN HE'S ASKING YOU)

"OF COURSE IT WOULD BABY??" [you]

as you're ducked down working, he misses seeing your face

so he cranes his neck and looks up at you from where his hands are

"hey baby, funny seeing you here." [atsumu]

"tsumu, stay still!" [you]

"sorry angel, just missed lookin' at ya." [atsumu]

in that position, he loves the feeling of you holding his hands and the sensation of the nail polish brush against the top of his fingers so much, that he semi-falls asleep against his forearm as you wrap up

he just feels so much at peace <3

and when you’re done he is definitely giving ken, and that his job is volleyball

and tbh i hc his hair post timeskip isn’t so much piss yellow as ppl joke it was while he was at inarizaki

but that if he stuck through with keeping it blonde for so long he eventually managed to get it professionally done, and with some GODDAMN TONER 😭

i think it’s like a brassy sort of blonde

which looks perfect as an accent to the nails

like pop off regina george!!!!

something endearing about your loving atsumu is he never fails to get you the best seats in the arena whenever you come watch the msby jackals play.

from front row, you can see everything, and in so much detail—the action, the sweat, the tears that goes into each and every matchup the team faces. truly, the experience was leagues above settling for a closer look on any big screen or arena jumbotron. everything was just so much clearer!

but most importantly, you can see your boyfriend. very clearly.

so clearly, in fact, that after a particular great serve to bokuto for a spike that earned the jackals yet another point, you have the luxury of soaking in all the glowing details of atsumu in his element.

the way he clutches his strong fists and yells with joy at the small win, a bit of pink peeking out from the insides of his palms.

how his hands clap and grasp at the hands of his teammates in quick celebratory high-fives that leave streaky blurs of pink trailing behind his excited movements.

when his hand quickly drags over his smiling and glistening face, before carding through his hair—small pink detailings disappearing and reappearing amidst the blonde strands that rest on the top of his head.

by the time all the players on the court are settled back into their places for when the moment the ball will be up in the air once again—anticipation pulsing on both sides of the net—you can even catch as atsumu quickly glances at his nails with a small, blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile.

thankfully, your top-tier seat allows you to catch it. and although he’s smiling at his hands, you know that it’s for your work and by extension, it’s all love for you in that split second before your boyfriend has to lock in again.

when the next ball is served, you find yourself almost falling out of your chair from how far you’re leaning forward to take in as much of your great view as possible.

︴bokuto kōtarō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘° 

MISMATCH IS A MUST

you say the few designs you want to try out and ask him which one you can try on him and he just goes: ALL OF THEM!

(he knows it’ll take longer to do with all the different elements, but that just means he gets to stare at you for longer as you work)

"are you sure? i mean, do you have a color you want in particular? i can tweak them so they all have the same palette." [you]

"nope! cover me with whatever your beautiful mind is envisioning!" [bokuto] (he's jutting his fingers out in front of you and wiggling them around with the biggest grin on his face)

these nails also just fits him as a person because he’s super all over the place and spontaneous so it works it JUST WORKS OK

plus his hair’s literally greyish whitish so it’s like a perfect neutral and blank canvas to accent the color palette

it's one thing having him sit still for an extended amount of time, but having you this close? right in front of him?

how is he not supposed to give your lips a quick kiss now and then

BUT!!! he always goes to double check he didn't mess up the nails every time he pulls back

"kō, the nails are fine! you didn't even move your hands, you're just moving your head to kiss me, silly." [you]

"just making sure, babe! i know this stuff takes a lot of work. plus, i can't really think of what else is happening when i'm kissing you, really." [bokuto] (already going in for another kiss)

you can see in the corner of your eye as you work on your designs that bokuto's nose scrunches up now and then

it's because he's not used to the smell of the nail products you're using

upon completing the whole nail set, he concludes it’s legitimately one of THE COOLEST THINGS anyone’s ever fucking done for him

doesn’t stop staring at his hands in a little bit of awe even after you’re done and chilling on the living room couch, completely oblivious to what's going on on the tv in front of you two

the crowd is going absolutely ballistic. the jackals are in the lead. and your boyfriend, the bokuto kōtarō is up and about to serve.

you watch the arena's big teleprompter with the rest of the spectators as the cameras pan to bokuto.

he has that look on his face–confident and happy playing the sport that runs through his veins. his hand crashes down onto the ball once. wham!

twice. blam!

when the ball comes back up, he grips it between his hands. it's evident even through the screen how his arms tense and pulse. it's like he's revving up.

as everyone hangs off the edge of their seats and keep their eyes glued in anticipation to the broadcasting of bokuto holding that unmistakable combo of blue and yellow–it's impossible to ignore how the ends of his hands glint and reflect the bright overhead lights.

colors of all kinds twitch in excitement against the leather and the star player quickly glances down at the ball, sure, but most definitely also at the intricate art you so graciously blessed his nails with. bokuto's lips crack a smile.

then he's tossing the volleyball up. a loud and powerful smack reverberates throughout the arena. in the blink of an eye the ball whizzes past two of the opposite team's players and the crowd explodes once again as the ball is now rolling on the outskirts of the court across the net.

your boyfriend's chest swells with pride, and his carefully manicured finger darts to point over you in the stands. you cheer even louder for him as he beams a tooth-filled smile your way.

💬 kuroppiii  ─ “ oh and i forgot to point out that most of these designs are short and with minimal charms so they don't get in the way of a volleyball player ' s , well ... volleyball playing ! short nail - ers rise up ! ”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 47

Part 1 Part 46

Steve settles into the new normal in waves. By the time his hair is a quarter of an inch long, he’s gotten his stitches out, face melded back together with only a gnarly line to show for it. By the time it’s a half an inch, he’s gotten the clearance to do his physical therapy at home.

Eddie sits in on his last appointment, listening tentatively to the way the doctor tells him he needs to put pressure and stretch. The way Steve needs to to move his rotary cuff on his own, working through the pain but not past it. 

The first time Eddie helps, seated on the living room carpet, Uncle Wayne in his customary recliner, Steve tries to keep the pain in, but then Eddie pulls his arm back, and the torn muscles protest. Steve groans.

“Shit, sorry sorry,” Eddie says, dropping Steve’s arm like it’s too hot to touch. “Stevie, sorry!”

He holds up his hands, eyes wide and already pooling with tears. Uncle Wayne scoffs, “it’s supposed to hurt, boy.”

Steve raises his arm back up, holding it out to Eddie. “Yeah, keep going.”

It takes an endless moment, and more of Uncle Wayne’s goading before Eddie reluctantly grabs his arm and continues his ministrations. He damn-near cries through the whole thing. Steve stays mouse-quiet and still. 

It gets easier as the days pass, the pain fading to a numb ache as his muscle heals.

By the time his hair’s grown out to a respectable inch, he barely remembers what it was like before this all began. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed, he hangs out with Eddie’s friends. He doesn’t go home at all. 

Eddie’s friends stop looking like defensive prey animals every time Steve sits down at their lunch table. Sometimes Barbara is there, sometimes Nancy and Jonathan. Always Eddie and his friends. And always Steve.

Eddie’s friends grow used to him. Doug gives him his extra cookie sometimes. Jeff helps him with D & D stats, patiently explaining everything he needs to know to survive his next session with the party. Gareth, in between glares, laughs at some of the things Steve says. Not usually the jokes, but it’s progress all the same. 

Sometimes Tommy will shoulder check him in the hallway, and Carol will look over at him with big, sad eyes from across every classroom. It’s fine. It has to be.

He’ll blink, every now and then, and there will be ash raining down, the sky red and storming. He hasn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Will. Or anyone at all. 

Steve’s fine. He always is.

It’s almost inevitable the way it all crumbles down at Carol’s feet. 

She corners him after civics, barely letting him out of the classroom before she’s latching onto his wrist and pulling him through the crowded hallway without a word. Steve halfheartedly tries to tug himself free until her manicured nails dig painfully in.

She maneuvers him into the boys bathroom, glaring viciously at the poor freshman washing his hands at the sink until he scurries past Steve and out the door. Carol reaches behind him, locking the door with a vicious twist before looking below each of the stalls. Once she’s checked that they’re alone, she whirls in Steve, glaring viciously at him. It’s an expression he’s never seen directed his way, not from her, and it makes his shoulders hunch instinctively. 

“What the fuck, Steve?” she snarls, demanding. 

Steve stares at her. He feels numb – hollowed out from the outside in. Like something’s been digging and digging until all he has is skin. “What?” Steve asks. Stupidly. Numbly.

She marches up to him, jabbing him hard with her pointer finger into his shoulder, this time the bad one. Steve hisses and she does it again. “You turn into a ghost for over a week, and then fucking ghost us?” she demands, voice rising in pitch and volume. “And you’ve replaced us with the Freak?”

“Eddie’s not–” Steve starts, hackles raising.

“I don’t fucking care about Munson!” her voice echoes around the small room, bouncing around the walls with the power of her fury. “Be friends with Munson, I don’t give a fuck!” She throws her hands up in the air, pacing back and forth the way she usually only does when she’s ranting about her Mom, late at night, when they’re holed up in one of their respective bedrooms. “I care that you ditched us with no fucking explanation.”

Steve’s organs are thawing out. It hurts – the way her bottom lip wobbles even as she’s yelling. The way her eyes are shimmering in a way Steve’s never seen before. The way her porcelain mask is cracking at the seams, and all Steve sees underneath is exhaustion.

But, he knows. Tommy’s made it perfectly clear with his shoulder checks and hostile sneers that it’s Eddie or them. “Carol,” he sighs. “You know that Tommy–”

She interrupts again. “Fuck Tommy!” she runs her hand through her hair, and it gets stuck in there, too much hairspray keeping her curls in place. “Who cares about Tommy? I thought we were friends.”

Her voice breaks on the words friends. Like she, too, is remembering nights spent painting each other’s nails, and talking about crushes. Like she, too, is remembering how they’d had their first kiss long before anyone had kissed Tommy.

Steve stumbles backward, spine hitting the partition between two open stalls before he allows his body to give up. He slides down, butt hitting the cold tile. He curls his arms around his knees, notices the tremor running through his fingers as he laces them together.

“I can’t tell you,” Steve whispers.

It’s quiet in the bathroom, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the drip drip drip of the runny toilet at the far end. Steve doesn’t look up from the tile between his knees, but he hears Carol shuffling forward, muttering under her breath how fucking gross boys are even as she sits down beside him.

She knocks her knee against his before pulling it back away. Neither of them have ever been touchy-feely with one another. Steve wants her arm around his shoulders, wants to bury his face in her neck. He knocks his knee into hers before pulling it back and away. 

“Fine,” she says, begrudging. Angry. “Don’t tell me why you’re so fucked up. Share that with Munson, whatever.” 

Steve sighs. “Carol.” 

“Does that mean we can’t even fucking be friends?” she demands, biting. “What, you’re too good for me now? Can’t even answer the door for me?”

Steve pictures it – Carol small in her winter coat, waiting minutes on end at the Harrington’s front door, ringing the bell for an empty house, waiting for the ghost of who Steve used to be to open the door. He wonders where Tommy was, if she didn’t mention him because he hasn’t tried at all. 

“I’ve been staying at Munson’s.”

He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, sees it land like a blow before she closes her eyes against it. “Of course you have been,” she sighs, defeated. Like that’s all she has the energy for. She levers herself up, walks toward the locked door, and slides it back.

It’s as she begins to open the door that Steve speaks, “do you want to come over after school?”

She pauses, foot already halfway out the door before she turns back to Steve, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “To Munson’s trailer?” she asks incredulously, but she steps back into the bathroom and lets the door close behind her. 

Steve shrugs. He can’t read her face the way he used to be able to. There’s something wanting in her eyes that he can’t name as they rove over his face, like she’s looking from something. Just like he is. Two people who know each other too well and not at all.

Carol turns back around, swinging the door back open. Steve feels something shrivel and die within him. But then she says, “meet you at Munson’s crap-mobile,” said casually over her shoulder like this isn’t a tectonic-plate shifting momentous occasion.

Steve smiles down at his knees, enamored with the idea of having his friend back. Of bringing her home. 

Part 48

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[testrella]

CRAZY RICH ASIANS…! G. SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER FIVE : accidental kiss.

NEXT… CHAPTER SIX : clashing clans.

[CONTENT WARNING] - mentions of drug abuse

gojo sat in his office, lost in deep thought after the not so pleasant exchanged he had with his mother. the heated argument made his mind wander back to his youthful, teenager years. recalling the time he had his future wife within arms length.

his first kiss wasn’t something he could ever possibly forget, it was an accidental exchange. ayaka zenin convinced him to slip away from the lavish party their families would throw for any type of celebration in hopes of rekindling the clans relationship. they snuck out and found a quiet spot deep into the gated garden the zenin clan had. under the moonlight, along with pesky bugs and leaves brushing past them, ayaka leaned closer to gojo. the kiss that followed was clumsy and awkward. it was more like an accidental brush of lips than a romantic gesture. gojo vividly remembers pulling back, startled and uncomfortable with the tension ayaka created.

“am i..am i not a good kisser?” her voice was laced in embarrassment and concern.

“n-no! i mean- it’s not that..” the 15 year old gojo fiddled with his collar before finding the right words. “don’t you think you’re rushing it?”

his words caught her by surprise. “rushing?! it feels like we aren’t doing enough satoru. we get married the moment we turn 18 and you can’t even look at me in the eyes!” she cries out.

the relationship lasted all throughout their high school years. everyday was an endless cycle for gojo. he wanted more freedom and say on his future, ayaka asked for the basic forms of love from him, his mother kept breathing down his neck. those last few teenage years were nothing but deep rooted hell.

despite the clans’ hopes, the relationship never blossomed to its full potential. instead it was full of arguments and forced interactions. ayaka anger towards gojo grew more and more each passing day, and gojo became more impatient with her.

“we should call off the wedding and go our separate ways.” she mumbled against gojo’s bare chest. another night of arguing meant another night of making love. it was the only way they got along. the only part that they knew about each other like the back of their hands.

“and what will happen to you? the zenin clan isn’t very…understanding with it comes to women.”

“i don’t know what will happen to me.”

“hey shoko, you don’t call me as much as you promised me that you would!” you joked as you held the phone with one hand, grading student’s essays with the other.

you hear her chuckle from the other side of the line, “guess who called me today asking about you, and how you were doing?”

you sigh before answering, “don’t tell me..” her silence was enough of an answer. your fingers run down down your hair before resting it at your nape. “i’ve told him before that things just wouldn’t work out between us.”

“i don’t know y/n, he sounded really different on the phone today.” she reasoned.

her defense peaked your interest. “different how?”

“well, first he asked me how i was doing, and actually sounded interested in my stories.”

“andddd?” curiosity was starting to kill you.

“and he told me he’s been sober for a few years. he started working under his dad again and got his shit together.”

you sigh as you recalled your own memories with him. he was charismatic and electric. he had the kind of energy that made everyone want to talk to him. everyone stopped and turned to him when he walked into a room.

he had a way of making you feel special. a relationship that started with an innocent crush on him quickly turned into something more. it started with tutoring help, convincing your professor that you didn’t understand the material. from getting regular tutoring sessions from the senior to spending the night at his place if the sessions lasted up into nighttime. the relationship built so fast the same pace it crumbled.

first it was sleepless nights, staying up and begging him to come home to you and to stay off the streets. those nights either led to getting no response from him all or to him being tucked into your hyper feminine bed with you bandaging his wounds.

within that time frame, he opened up to you about his past and his background. you found out he was the son of a well known clan of japan. it was more an old fashioned, or ‘out of date ’ as he liked to put it, clan that stuck to traditional values.

but being well off from generational wealth wasn’t enough for him as he ran off to study abroad in america, where he met you, and got involved into dirty business. it was a way to take control back from his cookie cutter life, as he’d like to put it. at first being with him was a dream come true. but as time went on, he went to a deeper and darker path that you couldn’t help him with.

almost every night ended with you begging him to stay out of trouble, only for you to wake up the next day at 3 am with banging on your dorm door.

“please j-just stay out of trouble. i’m begging you please..” you cried on the edge of your bed. he was sat right across from you, refusing to make eye connect. your tears felt like an arrow through his heart. he’d describe the pain as if every time a tear slipped out your eyes, an angel loses its wings.

“y/n you’re the best thing that’s happened in my life and-”

“can you stop bullshitting me, and can you stop doing drugs and all this stuff.”

“if you can’t support me now then how do you expect us to work out..” he whispered. deep

down, he knew how that hypothetical question would end.

“i guess we won’t then. get out my dorm and call me when you have your life together.”

the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled your nose as you nervously glanced around the shop. you hadn’t seen him in years, not since the fallout of your relationship. when he reached out, you were hesitant but eventually agreed.

the doorbell jingled, and your body instantly sharpens up as you watch him walk through the door. he had hardly changed.

he spots you and smiles, instantly walking towards your direction. “hello stranger, it’s nice seeing you here.”

“w-well we did agree to meet here.” you spoke softly, cursing your mouth for stuttering the first word.

“i see you’re still as timid as a deer, aren’t ya doll?” and no matter how long it’s been, he’s never lost his charm. you didn’t fail to notice the facial tattoos he got in his youthful years slowly fading away. even with the jacket and layers of clothing stuck to his skin, his muscles were still finely outlined and easy to spot.

he interrupted your thoughts before your mind could wander off to more..lewd things. “listen, i know we ended things off on bad terms.” he leans slightly forward, “i’ve changed, and i’ve been thinking a lot about the future. something’s telling me that things will be different than the way they were before.”

you could only blink. being so taken aback, your mouth immediately opens to respond but it fails to respond. before you could make up your mind, the doorbell jingles once again, making the both of you look towards the door.

your eyes immediately make eye contact with the familiar blue eyed business man whom also makes eye contact with you. your breathing staggers, your mouth goes dry, and your palms start to sweat. breaking eye contact with gojo, you glanced back at him. his expression was unreadable, as if his brain turned off.

the over six foot man walks over to your table with a forced smile. “miss.l/n,” he said, his voice strained. “i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“satoru um,” you stammered. it felt like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. like catching a child reaching into the cookie jar. “t-this is-“

“i know who this is.” “he knows who i am.”

both men had seemingly have the same amount of distaste for each other. gojo’s eyes flickered over to him, and his jaw tightened. “any reason why’d you want to chat up with my son’s teacher, sukuna?”

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[ashdreams2023]

The prince

Summery: you’re a stark employee with a simple crush on Loki

Loki x fem reader {reader’s last name is Carter}

You’ve worked at the stark tower for over six months now, a desk job, nothing too glamorous, dealing with finances and was basically the only female in your department but you blended in.

And by blended in it meant you didn’t know how to stand out, you wore suits like everyone else, had your hair out of your face and wore your reading glasses for the majority of the time while you work.

Hunched over paperwork with your sleeves rolled up, everyone around you was planning to go drinking after work but you obviously couldn’t join because no matter how much you liked to believe you blend in you were still a woman in a male dominated department.

By the time you were done the whole department was empty, the walk down the hall to leave was quiet, your hair looked a mess and your jacket hanged loosely on your shoulders.

As you reached the elevator a door opened, you glanced briefly towards the door and phased for a good few seconds before looking back straight.

Loki’s tall frame stood beside you waiting for the elevator and all you could do was pretend like you weren’t hearing the sound of your pounding heart in your ear, you’ve always thought Loki was attractive but this was the first time you were this close to him.

You could smell the woody with a hint of lavender smell on him, maybe it was a perfume or were asgardians just born this way?

"To give you some peace of mind I don’t bite" he spoke making you instantly feel humiliated, he noticed how stiff you were.

After swallowing you stared down the floor, his boots looks shiny and they had some sliver lining "I’m sorry…" you mumbled.

Loki sighs and lifts your chin up with his finger, his green eyes scanned your features before wiping away something on your cheek "there an ink stain on your cheek"

You blushed immediately and tried to look for your mirror to check your face, this night couldn’t get anymore embarrassing.

The elevator opened just when you got your mirror out, he stepped in and watched checked your face in the small hand mirror, he smirked faintly before the doors closed and left you waiting once more.

After that night you noticed some things, nothing drastic but for example, the lunchroom trays were fuller than usual, the department didn’t stink of annoying overly strong men’s cologne.

"And everyone should dress accordingly, and I mean It you" your manager pointed at you as he announced the party that would be held in the tower.

For your defense you did try to dress up nice for events but you just…didn’t stand out? You were paid handsomely but you didn’t exactly understand what might suits you best.

Although one thing gave you hope, Loki was coming with his brother this time around, perhaps if you looked decent he’ll start conversation with you.

So that meant using the big guns…pepper.

The woman was fortunately so considerate and sweet, going as far as booking you a hair appointment and directed you to a boutique you could buy something nice from.

You remember seeing yourself for the first time after getting finished and thinking to yourself…"I look quite pretty" it left you feeling lighter, like a butterfly that finally came out of her cocoon.

You didn’t steal everyone’s attention like one of those movies but you indeed got a few smiles from some of the staff, you sat in one of the tables holding a glass of champagne and minding your business when you glanced up and saw him walking towards you.

Your heart skipped a beat at how nice he looked.

Loki the one person you always both admired and envied at the same time for his sense in fashion was smirking gently at you with an extended hand "Care for a dance miss Carter?"

At times like these you remember that Loki was a prince on his planet…surrounded by beautiful princess throwing themselves at him.

But here he was leading you on to a slow song, holding your waist firmly and looking down at you with playfully amusement "I thought this party would be a boring affair much like the ones stark usually hosts, they are just not my taste"

You found your voice shortly after "I…you must miss the parties back at Asgard…must’ve been entertaining there…"

He chuckled "perhaps but back home they don’t have cute little secretaries with ridiculously round glasses"

Loki managed to make you flush and quickly snorted at your resort to hid your face on his chest.

"Now you’re tempting me like this…or are you planning to seduce me with your antics and take me to your bed miss Carter? Is that your evil scheme all along?" He whispered into your ears.

Your fingers stretched on the fabric of his tailored vest "I’m not that bold"

"Are you sure?" He smirked pressing his forehead against yours.

You swallowed with your pupils wide, your body shivered staring back at his intense gaze, holding you firmly and shamelessly in place "if…you say my name…I’m yours to take"

His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly before his lips moved and the sound of your name echoed in your ear softly like a soft bell in a late summer afternoon.

"Mine" he said.

[futbol16]

Nothing is Going Well  • England Lionesses

Requests:  im sooooo loving the keira leah and georgia trio 😍😍😍😍 could I request a oneshot where the three have grown into Y/N’s older sisters and best friends. In their next game Y/N gets left bloody like Melanie Leupolz during the Chelsea match. Except this time the three see that the injury is much worse as Y/N is unresponsive, their favorite player who was happily playing with them 20 minutes ago now in danger

could you write something with leah keira and georgia being like big sisters to R? and like teasing her but also being very protective of her? thank you love your works

Word count: 4k

“GEE!!” a shriek accompanied by loud giggles echo through the corridors of the stadium and many of your teammates look back at the source of the sound. You’re running past Alex, a cookie in your hand and giggling like a maniac as you attempt to run away from Georgia who is chasing you.

“GIMME BACK MY COOKIE!” her booming voice only makes you throw your head back as you swerve in and out through the line of teammates filing into the stadium’s changing room. Georgia can’t help it anymore as she also breaks out in fits of giggles, her arms outstretched towards you as you just manage to slip away from her. 

The girls amusedly watch the two of you running around and they chuckle as you slip and fall on your bottom, Georgia crashing onto the ground too. You let out a loud groan as Georgia snatches the cookie back from you and in the same move she shoves the whole thing in her mouth. 

“Crackheads, those two, absolute crackheads.” Leah points to behind her as she grins at the camera, shooting it a cheeky wink that makes the cameraman laugh as he captures the England Lionesses arriving at the Brentford Community Stadium.

Georgia sticks her tongue out at you and you pout at her silliness, arms crossing over your chest. The brunette in front of you laughs at you and you look to the redhead approaching for help.

“Kie, Gee is being mean!”

“AM NOT!” she protests as Keira pulls you off the ground before throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“Let’s go girls. Warm ups start soon.” she nods towards the changing room where most of your teammates are waiting and Georgia ruffles your hair before skipping off. You grumble as you try to fix your hair but Keira poking at your cheek makes you look at her. Upon doing so you’re met with a cookie in your face and a cheeky smile on her face as you take it from her. 

“Shh, don’t tell Gee” she winks at you and you hug her waist as the two of you enter the changing room, your mouth full.

Leah, Keira and Georgia have become your best mates in the England camps and you cherished your friendship with them very much. You were much younger than the other three, standing at a rough 19 years of age and they instantly took you under their wings when you made your debut for the national team earlier this year. The trio had unofficially adopted you as their younger sister which they had been teased for by the other girls but they would only smile at their words as they’d pull you into their side and ruffle your hair, saying something about how you were ‘the team baby’. 

 All four of you played in different positions with Leah all the way back in defense, Kei and Georgia as the midfielders and you upfront as a forward. You had only recently made a name for yourself but it didn’t take long for you to become a fan favorite.

You grew up playing for Arsenal’s youth teams and despite being moved to the first team a year ago, you hadn’t had the chance to show just how good you were. The tragic injuries of Mead and Miedema had forced Jonas to experiment with his other players though, giving you, Frida, and Stina more game time, which had proved to be the right decision. Within two months you went from a last minute substitute to a constant starter and being recognized as the young star of the Reds. 

Leah had watched you excel on the field since your very first few minutes of your debut and she felt immense pride when you got your first start. She’s still in absolute awe of your talent every time you step on the field and she has kept you close to her at Arsenal too. She was one of your favorite people and you had even been on vacation with her family. Her mother often jokes that you’ve officially become a Williamson. 

Jonas knew that if it weren’t for ‘the main force at the front’ - referring to the team’s three goalscorers - he wouldn’t know what to do since Arsenal had been cursed with so many injuries. Similarly to your debut for the reds, you got your debut for the England Lionesses because of the number of injured players as well. 

Sarina had kept an eye on you all of last season and as an Arsenal fan herself she was excited to see what you would bring to the team. She had instantly put you in the starting line up, which was shocking to not only the fans but you as well. Nonetheless, you didn’t disappoint as you served two assists in the same match and then being named the player of the match. You only got better after and it was a no brainer for Sarina to have you play in the final of the Finalissima. 

Your journey had only just begun and you were already suspected to be a future Ballon D’or winner. Keira loved to remind you of this and since joining Barca she has frequently brought your name up to Alexia Putellas. When she first mentioned your name Alexia had confirmed that she knew about you and would love to meet you, gaining you a face time that Kei had arranged with one of your idols. 

You stand by the sidelines with Leah behind you, her arms around your shoulders as the two of you watch the girls start warming up. Your fingers curl around the blonde’s forearms as you lean back into her, finding safety in her arms. 

“You ready for this game?” she leans down to whisper to you and your eyes scan over the Australian players as you nod.

“Yeah” you pause as you spot Steph waving at the two of you and you wave back at her with a wide smile. You loved Steph and you had great chemistry on the field. “I’ve never played Australia before.” 

Leah tightens her hold on you as she presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“But it’s going to be fine and you’ll be great. Besides, it’s only a friendly so just in case you panic, remember that.” she tells you, knowing how much pressure you felt and your need to prove your worth to England. You nod again as you look up at her smiling.

“You too Lee.” you tell her seriously. Just like her, you also knew about the stress she was experiencing especially as captain. 

“Yeah” she assures you before Georgia and Keira come bouncing over. 

“Come on Y/N warm up with me!” Leah shoots the brunette a look as she brings you even closer to her, refusing to let go of you.

“You’ve had her for long enough! It’s our turn now!” the midfielder demands, ball in hand as she tries to tempt you with it. “Come Y/N, follow the ball”

“Gee she’s not a dog!” Keira laughs at her and you untangle yourself from Leah’s hold. She gives you a hurt look, dramatically slapping a hand against her chest and you giggle at her antics.

“I’ll be back but you go with Kei, okay?” you negotiate with the two while Georgia is shouting at you from a distance as she urges you to hurry up. They nod at you as you walk away from them and Leah leans into her best friend’s side.

“She should come to Barca” 

“Aww Kei don’t start” the blonde jokes as she throws her head back, smacking at her friend’s shoulder. 

“What? Jonatan already has his eyes on her. She’d fit right in.” she explains to Leah who nods, understanding. Leah knows you’re bound to join the club sooner or later in spite of being a die hard Arsenal fan, but it would be a great move for your career…somewhere down the line. 

“But Arsenal needs her more” she points out. Keira is about to open her mouth to interrupt again and tell her that Jonas won’t give you or any of this season’s players minutes once his main strikers are back, but Leah cuts her off. “Let’s go warm up, we’ve only got a few more minutes and Sarina won’t be happy with us.” 

You start on the bench for this game, which you don’t mind because it gives you more time to observe the Australians playing style before you would be substituted in. It’s clear from early on that Sarina’s new line up isn’t working as well as she had hoped. Leah and Esme can’t seem to connect in the defense, Millie is obviously greatly missed from there and every shot on goal is either wide or offside. Despite this, England still manages to keep more possession of the ball, but you worry that won’t mean much if you can’t get a goal out of it. 

If the number of injuries wasn’t enough, another is added to the tally in minute 28, but thankfully nothing serious as Lauren is subbed off for you. Sarina’s hand remains on your shoulder as you wait for Lauren to get to the sidelines, a silent encouragement that she has faith in you to change the game. 

On your run to your position you get pats on the back from Georgia and Keira, both throwing a word of encouragement after you. You slowly exhale as you look over the opposition and your eyes connect with another pair of eyes. You look away as you feel a wave of anxiousness crash over you and you focus back on the game at hand as the match is resumed. 

“Come on Y/N” you mutter under your breath, eyes trained on the ball. 

All it takes is one chance. And Kerr proves that to you as she runs after the ball, hot on Leah’s tail. Leah heads the ball down for Mary but it unfortunately bounces before she can catch it in her gloved hands and Kerr’s foot has already connected with the ball. It’s a goal for Australia. 

Leah walks back with her head hung low as she wipes at her forehead, disappointed in herself. While the Matildas celebrate you take the time to jog to your friend who has turned into an older sister.

“It’s a friendly, Lee. Remember that. You’ve been doing great” you assure her as you squeeze her fingers and she sniffles when she gives you an unsure smile. You nod back at her, telling her to believe you. 

“As long as we have you on the field, I’m not overly worried” she uses flattery as a distraction from her mistake but you see right through it. 

“We’ve still got time to turn this around.” is the last thing you tell her before getting back into position. You’re not too worried about your game because you have Keira and Georgia backing you up as well as your other teammates. Leah recognizes this as well and within a second she has her game face back, ready to face whatever would come next.

It took you a few minutes to get used to the Matildas’ football but you feel like you’ve figured it out. It instantly shows in your game because you’re creating chances for Chloe and Alessia whenever you can. The ball possession remains on England’s side as your team pushes forward and the Australians are visibly taken aback as shots are fired at them. None finds the back of the net until Kerr loses the ball from a pass that Raso gives her. You’re quick to pick up the loose ball and in a blink of an eye you’re sprinting towards their goal, sending a screamer into the top bins. You run towards the corner flag in celebration, patting the badge on your heart as your teammates surround you. 

“There you go!”

“Yes Y/N!” Lucy and Georgia scream in ecstasy. England keep the ball in their possession until the halftime whistle is blown three minutes after your goal. A giddy smile resides on your face, still happy about your involvement in the game and confident that the girls would come out victorious. 

Sarina’s halftime speech isn’t very long but everything she could say is said. When England reenters the pitch, Australia is already out and finishing up their drinks break. 

Arms make their way around your shoulders and you hear a whisper next to you. 

“I heard you got a crush on an academy player” Georgia’s voice is laced with a teasing tone as the two of you walk to the field. You abruptly pull back and turn to her, eyes full of questions.

“Who told you?” the brunette raises her eyebrows at your lack of denial but her expression quickly morphs into a smirk. She shrugs but you already know the answer.

“Leah” she says nonchalantly and another voice cuts in.

“She didn’t need to.” Keira’s arm circles your waist as Georgia’s arm is placed back around your shoulders. You look at the redhead in confusion and the girl on your other side decides to elaborate.

“Every time you tell us about your academy days you mention her name” you blush furiously as you remember the amount of times you had unknowingly flashed the girls a dreamy look when talking about your best friend from the Arsenal academy. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” A chuckle leaves Georgia, there’s the denial. She shares a look with Keira who is giving you the same knowing look.

“Freya Godfrey. Does that ring a bell?” you can feel your face heating up and you hide in Keira’s shoulder as you listen to the two giggling at you. 

“Get away” you joke with them, pushing the both of them towards their positions on the field as you retake yours as well. You can still hear their giggles until they stop, getting ready for the game to restart. 

All seems to be going well as England better their tactics and keep the Australians on their toes. All seems to be going well as Chloe, Alessia, and yourself make a run towards their goal. All seems to be going well as Alessia delivers a wonderful cross to you. All seems to be going well until nothing is going well. 

You jump forwards to head the ball into the net and at the same time Sam Kerr tries to intercept. She also jumps, leg outstretched towards the incoming ball but she misses and instead of the ball she gets you. You can feel her studs sliding across your face before you land on the ground with a big thump. Searing pain takes over you as you lay face down on the grass, eyes stinging, nose feeling like it’s not in place and your head throbbing. Then suddenly you feel nothing as everything goes numb.

Kerr looks down at you, a horrified look on her face but the referee hasn’t blown the whistle yet and she feels obligated to run after the ball. Alessia is immediately screaming for the referee as you lay still while Keira instantly runs to your aid. It takes the ref around two minutes to finally blow the whistle and by that time Keira and Alessia have managed to turn you on your backside.

Your face is covered in blood, so much so that they can barely make out where your mouth is. 

“Oh no, no no” Keira is panicking as she looks you over and she starts waving for the medics. 

Georgia and Chloe are the next to get to you, both gasping in shock. Georgia feels sick to her stomach and she turns away from the sight of you all bloodied, opting to lean onto Rachel for support. Keira’s hand is on your knee as she calls out your name, waiting for any sign that you’re awake.

By the time Leah gets to you the medics are already making their way past Georgia and Rachel.

Leah’s face pales at what she sees and she drops to her knees next to you in horror. 

“Leah” Keira’s voice is broken as she searches for her captain's eyes. Her eyes remain on you however and she reaches a shaking hand out to your face, moving a strand of bloody hair from your forehead. Medics push them back as they try to assess the damage. 

Your three sisters watch in almost slow motion as they lift your head and wipe the blood from your face. They watch as the medics feel for a pulse and their panic only rises until they get a thumbs up and they allow themselves to let out the smallest exhales of relief. 

“She’s -” Georgia can't finish her sentence as her eyes water. Another wipe of your face reveals the cut on your cheek and nose. It also reveals the swelling of your nose and the misplacement of it. A broken nose. It’s not a big injury and you’d recover quickly but the way your face is now adorned with small cuts is not a pretty sight and it only makes your teammates even more worried.

“Oh my god” Leah wipes her eyes before the tears can fall. You have still yet to open your eyes or give them any indication that you were conscious. 

“What’s going on?” Keira questions one of the medics as they load you onto a stretcher.

“She’s likely passed out from the pain. She’s got a broken nose and maybe a concussion but that’s about it. She’ll need stitches for two of those cuts. We’re taking her to the medical room” the team is briefly told as the medic rushes the words out before he runs off after his colleagues.

The three stare after them as the medics carry you off the field, sorrowful looks painted across their faces as it sets in. Georgia huffs out a breath of frustration for not being allowed to go after you while the other two reflect on just twenty minutes ago when you were running around and scoring. 

The loss of your presence is immediately felt as Australia scores seven minutes later though it’s called off as an offside. The rest of the game goes by in a blur and the second the final whistle is blown and the teams have shaken hands, the trio are off towards the locker room in search of you. Hoping that you’re okay and sitting in your cubby with one of their hoodies draped over you like usual, waiting for them to get back.

Silence and emptiness is what greets them when they open the door of the changing room. They turn on their heels, marching to where they think the medical room is, to where you’d be. However, before they can reach it Leah is pulled back by a hand on her arm and she looks to one of the staff members. He wears an apologetic look on his face and she knows what’s coming.

“Now?! They want me to do a post-match interview now??!” she aggressively barks back but calms herself as she follows the staff member, urging Georgia and Keira to find you.

“Good evening Leah, sorry to hold you back, we’ve only got a few questions.” the interviewer tells her but she couldn’t muster up a genuine smile even if she tried. She speed runs the basic questions she always gets asked, her feet thumping on the floor as she looks behind the camera every few seconds, waiting for the signal that she can leave.

“Do you feel this tie is a setback?”

“Uh no. Absolutely not. Sometimes you have to take blessings in disguise. This friendly allowed us to experiment with different lineups and strategies which I think could help us greatly for the world cup.” she nods along to her words.

“Facing one of the top teams, top player. How hard was it to stop Sam Kerr ?”

“As a footballer you expect to go up against those top teams' top players. Obviously it’s hard, it’s a challenge but yeah, I think we nullified the threat pretty well. Obviously gifted that goal..” she pauses for a second as they replay the clip where she headed the ball towards Mary, effectively giving a goal to Sam.

 “You play top teams - watching it again, thanks for having that in front of me” she lets out a nervous laugh as she rewatches the clip. Your words echo in her mind and she wills herself to calm her nerves. 

“You play top teams, you play top players and when they’re in form sometimes that punishes us, but I think this has fueled the fire in us. It gives you a bit of fire.”

The interviewer nods at her answer as she checks over her questions and once again Leah finds herself glancing towards the doorway in hopes of getting away.

“Y/N L/N took a rough hit tonight in a nasty collision with Sam Kerr. She’s a recent addition to the team, what can you say about her as a player?”

Leah’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of you, her mind replaying the scene in front of her as you fell to the ground, when she saw your blood covered face, how you were unresponsive. She clears her throat as she tries to clear the images from her head.

“She’s pure class, a very talented young player and I believe she has got a very bright future ahead of her.” she says, voice full of determination as her eyes twinkle with pride but also worry.

 “Speaking of, may I?” she points a thumb to the side, asking if they could wrap up the interview.

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your time!”

“Yeah, thanks” she rushes out before jogging down the corridor to where the medical room is, anxiety and nervousness rising in her chest.

Upon opening the door a squeal greets her.

“Leeeeee!” your voice is nasally but it brings Leah so much comfort she could fall to the ground in relief. Georgia and Keira are sitting on either side of you, both holding onto your hand as they smile at their captain.

“Hey babes” she breathes out, taking long strides to your bed. She takes notice of your wrapped up nose and the stitching on your cheek. She gently runs a finger over it before she leans down to press a big kiss on your hairline. You grin up at her, nodding to the space next to your legs and she sits down.

“So?”

“Mild concussion, broken nose-”

“Not anymore!” you cut off Keira’s medical report, giggling to yourself. Leah raises an eyebrow at your state.

“No more broken nose then but she has stitches on the bridge of her nose and her cheek - as you can see” Leah scans your face before resting a hand on your thigh and giving you a gentle smile.

“I feel like a hamster.” you announced, flailing around your hand and Georgia’s. “You know in my dream there was this big big green truck? I named it Weelah Liliamson.”

The girls burst out laughing at your words, the air becoming lighter.

“Oh yeah, and she’s high on meds.” Georgia states, chuckling at your offended expression.

“I don’t get high, I’m a football player you know? You know I’m a football player? I play football!” 

“Yeah, yes I know” she giggles along.

“Don’t take drugs kids, no drugs.” you shake your head at her, eyes wide and bleary. 

“Okay Y/N/N, we’re taking you home yeah? You’re sleeping at mine.” Leah pats your thigh to gain your attention and you sit up straighter.

“We’re having a sleepover?! YESSS!” you cheer before falling back.

“Shhh. Yes, sleepover.” Keira confirms, helping you drink. An amused look in her eyes, only happy that you were feeling beter.

“You guys are my bestest friends, man I love you all so much” you mumble out, eyelids suddenly getting heavy. The three look at each other with wide smiles, their heart melting at your words and they watch over you as you fall back asleep.

“We love you too”

[ryxiez]

Not A Walk In the Park

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Genera ➛ angst (no part 2 yet)

Pairing ➛ idol!Yeonjun x nonidol!reader

Word Count ➛ 1.05k

Warnings ➛ swearing, yelling, belittling the reader, (other angst stuff). Nicknames like baby and my love.

AN: I don’t see myself writing a second part any time soon, so for now it’s going to be left open ended

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Fighting wasn't a usual occurrence between the two of you. Communication was something you both valued. You guys even took pride in being good at ever since your relationship started. However, that fact didn't seem to apply to today.

Things were said that either neither of you meant, the words thrown around almost as if they meant nothing. But, the sting was real.

It happened to be a long day for you, wanting nothing more than to curl up into your boyfriends arms for the rest of the night and sleep. It always helped you forget the rest of the world for a while when he would hold you tight.

On the other hand, Yeonjun seemed to have extremely different plans.

He himself had a long day but his consisted of constant vocal and dance rehearsal. He just wanted some time to himself to think. Not about anything in particular yet everything at the same time.

However, Yeonjun had trouble vocalizing that today. He was overstimulated and didn't know how to explain was he was feeling in sensible words. As a result things took an awkward turn.

You pushed the door to your shared apartment quickly, throwing your bag aside and kicking off your shoes like you usually do, letting out a deep sigh.

Yeonjun sat with his back to you on the couch, he had his hands in his lap and his head held down. His long black hair covering the look on his face. The news channel was on, but the volume was on mute, something that was very unusual.

To you it looked like your boyfriend could use some cuddles. Maybe you were a bit bias because you wanted them yourself, but when you threw your arms around him from behind, you thought nothing more of it.

On the other hand, he became agitated immediately, his posture straightening back up fast as he reached around himself to push you away.

"Baby?... What's the matter my love?" You were confused when you asked, walking around to the other side of the couch so you could see his face clearly.

You tried to reach out for his hands that were again placed in his lap balled up into fists, wanting to hold them for reassurance. But his face scrunched up in disgust.

He harshly swatted away your hands, "Why do you always have to be so fucking clingy all the time... jeez!" He said loudly with an exaggerated sigh as he stood up from the couch.

"Excuse me?" You asked defensively, your own emotions starting to bubble up as you took a step back from his towering figure.

"You heard me. Just fuck off and leave me alone, I'm tired. I don't need you making it worse like you always do." He grumbled, now walking away from you.

Now it was your turn to be upset, he couldn't just say things like that and expect everything to be all okay.

"Your not the only one who gets to have hard days around here Mr. 'I'm more Important"' you shot back.

You had to admit, you were being childish, but it was hard to think rationally when all your feelings started crumbling. You were only trying to be nice and this is how he repays you?

"See! There you go again, blaming me for everything! Last time I checked, your not the idol around here. You just work some god damn low life job and get away with it because your in a relationship with me." He yelled, rolling his eyes and continuing to walk to your shared bedroom. He slammed the door shut without another word.

You groaned in frustration after the loud slam reverberated through the house, he's never raised his voice at you before let alone insult you like that.

You didn't want to think anymore once you felt the tears already start to fill your water line. You knew you had to leave, at least for the night, swearing that you would suffocate if you stayed there any longer.

Putting on your shoes quickly, your adrenaline running fast, you made your way out of the apartment. you couldn't think straight as thoughts flooded your mind.

'I'm I annoyingly clingy?' 'Does he really think I'm just using him for money?' 'Does he think he's actually that much better than me?' And worst of all... 'Did he fall out of love?'

Letting your feet take the lead and your brain take a back row seat, you had no idea where you were going.

You had nowhere to go. Nobody to run to. You uprooted your whole life for Yeonjun, moving away from your family and friends so you both could find a place closer to his own job at the studio. He was the only safe space you knew., but he went and threw it all away with just a few words.

It was getting dark, but by now you had an idea of where you wanted to go. There was a park a few blocks away, a very beautiful one at that. One that you had many dates at with Yeonjun, but that's besides the point.

By the time you made it there, you weren't running anymore. Tears stained your cheeks and you were out of breath. You don't remember letting them fall because you tried to hold them back, but you felt better getting them out.

Finding a secluded bench, in the corner of a small flower field, you felt a little bit better curling up onto it. Your knees curled into your chest as the small lamp on the path illuminated the flowers around you. They calmed you momentarily until a sob escaped your throat when you remembered why you were here in the first place.

- To Be Continued

Taglist: @uno7 …

[theonewhospeaksinweird]

💛💙Protected (Charlotte Katakuri x Female!Reader) Pt. 3💛💙

💚 = Lime/Lil Spicy

💛 = Lemon

💙 = Sad

❤️ = Angsty (won't do many of these unless prompted) 

💜 = Fluff

💔 = Heartbreak (rare unless prompted)

🖤 = Normal 

Part 3, as promised!~ It all comes to the thrilling conclusion, and I FINALLY get to the scene that started this whole story.~ After about collectively 18.5 k words.~ All I can say in my defense is that...THIS MAN IS TOO FINE!~ If you don't want the ✨spicy✨ part of this story, that's totally fine.~ Just stop reading at the line of star squids.~ Enjoy, dearies.~

Minors, Do Not Interact, Please.~

Part 1 <- - Part 2 <- - Part 3

Although I wished for it, the silence that abruptly replaced the sounds of destruction and fighting startled me, along with the suddenly very loud shouting of Pekoms in my ear. 

“Y/N! It’ll be okay-!” The pink clad mink cut himself off at the abrupt silence. Our heavy breaths were the only thing filling the new quiet. We both slowly detached from each other and looked around us to see the same semi-transparent white shield that I had created earlier. Its opaqueness varied in pulses, so I could see that everything around us had crumbled into rubble except the ground inside the bubble.

“What the fuck?” Pekoms mumbled out, looking around until his gaze fell back onto me who looked equally surprised. This sudden change shocked my panicked mind out of its frenzied state, allowing me to calm myself down. The calmer I became, the more I realized how drained I felt again and leaned against Pekoms once more.

“Is this yours, Y/N?” Looking up at my reflection in Pekoms’ black glasses, I gave a hesitant nod before responding.

“Y-Yeah, I guess it is. . . “ This new power still felt weird to me. More so the after effects of me being fatigued and suddenly so calm. It bothered me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was like the emotions just expelled from my body. Before our conversation could continue on, some movement caught the corner of my eye. A beat up, and barely moving Strawhat had crawled out of a large hole in the ground.

Once again, the bubble popped so suddenly when my heart jumped into my throat in dread. 

Where was Katakuri? 

With the barrier gone, the rubble around us sank into our little hole, but I ignored it and the weariness tugging at my bones, scrambling over the debris. Desperation clawed its way back into my heart and showed in my deep purple antennae as I crested the pile of rubble, searching for my husband. Tears burned my darting eyes, blurring my vision, until they fell onto the large body sprawled out beside the hole. Katakuri. No scarf in sight. My breath hitched, and the tears fell freely as I took in what that entailed. A part of me already knew what the outcome of this fight would be, but it still hurt to be right. This was the last thing I wanted to be right about.

I felt Pekoms come up beside me on the rubble, his reaction being the opposite of mine when he saw Strawhat alive. Before either of us could go to our respective fighters, the sound of those familiar spurs clanked twice through the air as Katakuri struggled to his feet in front of a crawling Strawhat. I was frozen to my spot, watching with bated breaths as he swayed on his feet. Blue light bathed either side of my face as my antennae drooped down.

"Kata. . . " I whispered out, thinking he was going to try and continue fighting. I wish I could grab the bracelet from my hair and know what was going through his heart and mind right now, but I was glued to my spot, unable to even get past the state he was in. There was blood dripping from multiple wounds, the largest being a hole in his side, fresh bruises littering his body, sure to be a nasty color tomorrow, and his entire body shaking with exhaustion.  

At the obstruction, the retreating captain stood up as well, readying himself for a fight that neither of them seemed to be in the shape to continue. Pekoms growled beside me, seemingly unhappy with the fact that Strawhat was still trying to fight with Katakuri.

"That damn brat doesn't know when to quit, huh? Tch, I figured as much." And with that, my travel companion parted from my side and away from the two fighters. I was about to get up myself, to try and convince my injured husband to stop. That dying for his mother's cause wouldn't change a thing. Maybe it was selfish of me to think so, but I just knew I couldn't live without him. I barely know how I lived before him. Before I could force myself to move, my husband's raspy question stopped me. 

"Are you gonna come back. . . to take down Big Mom one day?" 

Huh? Was he asking this boy to. . ?

"Of course I am! Cause I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"

Then, the most bizarre thing happened.

Katakuri smiled. He smiled at the thought of someone taking down his mother.

"You must be looking far into the future!" He exclaimed as he started swaying more on his feet. Looking like he was about to fall again is what finally spurred me to action. I didn't know what happened in that fight for him to be so open about his feelings with this enemy, but that hardly mattered now. I started sprinting across the ruined floor, tripping and falling over debris as Katakuri began falling. Onto his back, no less. He was on his stomach before.

I knew I couldn't catch him, but I'd been apart from him for too long, and he needed me just as much as I needed him right now. He landed with a resounding thud that hurt my heart. I could see Strawhat standing there in shock as I finally got to my husband's side. My knees cut on the broken floor at his sides, but I hardly cared as I frantically looked over my defeated husband.

"Katakuri! No no no, are you okay? Please don't die! I love you too much to let you die!" I wasn't sure what to do first, he was unresponsive. The first thing I could think of was to stop the bleeding from the big gash on his side. With nothing else to use, I took the skirt of my dress and pressed it into the wound. The fabric of my skirt was too sheer, though, and barely did anything to stop the flowing life force. As I thought about what to do instead, I could feel another person approaching. 

Strawhat Luffy. 

Meeting him face to face like this instead of through his Haki had a different effect. He didn't seem like a dangerous guy, in fact he seemed quite simple. Yet here Katakuri was, flat on his back after their battle. He had big, round black eyes that shone with determination –towards what, I didn't know just yet– and his mouth was set in a fine line. It unnerved me that I couldn’t take any emotions from his blank face. He was worse than when I first met Katakuri. Strawhat looked far more beat up than Katakuri, which I secretly relished, but was at least able to stumble his way towards us. I knew I stood no chance at fighting this guy if he wanted to finish off my husband, but I'd be damned if I didn't do anything.

"Go away! You won! Isn't that enough? He's already down, so just leave, go find your crew!" I splayed myself protectively in front of my husband. I wouldn't be much of a hindrance if this guy really wanted to get rid of me, though I could stall. If only for a few moments. He ignored me and got closer. I was shaking. Shaking in both anger and fear to make a deep magenta as he dared ignore me. When he was a few steps away, I covered half my arm in Haki –that was the most I could use even after 2 years of training– and threw a punch as hard as I could at him. Even in his weakened form, the infamous pirate caught my fist effortlessly. I strained against him, staring heatedly into his thoughtless eyes. 

With the contact, I searched his emotions and intent, if only to predict his line of thought, but what I found was nothing I expected. Through the pain and exhaustion were strong threads of respect and twinges of sorrow. They were towards Katakuri. That caught me off guard, and the loss of concentration made my Haki disappear. Strawhat didn't move against me as he stared blankly into my confused eyes.

"I'm not gonna hurt him." 

And for some reason, I believed him. I kept my eyes on him as I slowly took back my hand, my magenta lightening to a curious yellow. His grip wasn't very tight in the first place. He turned his attention to my still unconscious lover, and I watched as he stepped past me, took the black hat off of his namesake hat and put it over Katakuri's mouth. That surprised me even more. To think that Strawhat respected him enough to cover his biggest insecurity even after he won. Vice versa with Katakuri taking this fight so seriously that he exposed himself in full to this rambunctious teen.

The boy left after that, staggering his way aimlessly down a winding hall of the half destroyed Mirro-World. I'm sure Pekoms would find and help him. This was out of my hands now that Katakuri had been defeated. Returning my attention back to my lover, I let out a tired sigh. I'd never seen my husband look so beat up before. The thought of how much pain he must be in brought the tears back to my eyes. It was over now, his part was done, and everything was coming down. 

"Oh, Kata. Your mother doesn't deserve you." My quiet words came out watery as I pet his dirty magenta hair a little, wishing I could hold him more, but I didn't want to cause him anymore pain. I wouldn't even be able to get serious help for him until Brulee came back, which I'm sure will be a while since Pekoms needed her for Strawhat's escape. I hope she's alright. My hand moved from his head to the black hat Strawhat had put over his mouth, removing it so I could see his full face. He was still the most handsome man ever. With a sad smile, I bent over and kissed his forehead hoping he would feel the love in it even while he was asleep. 

Looking around, I saw my abandoned medical kit lying on the ground a bit of ways away slightly under some rubble. For hopefully one of the last times today, I made myself get up to retrieve it. My tears had slowed, but when I came back and began cleaning up my husband they streaked down my dirty face again. The warm rivulets of tears dripped from my chin and nose onto his chest as I leaned over him. Starting with his face, I used alcohol wipes to wipe away the dirt and gently clean his cuts. This medical kit only had basic things, so I used all the candy design bandages where I could, and the gauze on his big gash. After about half an hour of quietly working, my silent cries had been reduced to the occasional sniffle here and there. 

The appearance of Katakuri had improved, and everything was at least cleaned, though he looked a bit silly with all the cutesy bandages covering his face and torso. With a weary sigh, I turned my attention to the pile of dirty and bloodied wipes with a grimace. As I began stuffing them into the basically empty medical kit, a groan interrupted the deafening background noise of the Mirro-World. My attention immediately snapped to my husband whose face was contorting from peace to pain. His large hand came up to his dirty locks, grasping at his head as he let out another sound of pain. My breath caught in my throat at the sound.

"Kat. . . Katakuri. . !" My throat closed up before I could get anything else out, and let myself fall down onto his free arm. I could feel him freeze as I let out all my pent up emotions. Everything oozed out of me like a toxic slime with each shuddering sob. Pain. Sorrow. Fear. Relief. All the tension I was holding in my chest slowly drained out of me. I was weak in the presence of my protector.

“You’re okay! You’re alive! Everything was rumbling and falling apart, I saw you fall and he came over and I thought he was gonna. . . he was gonna-!” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Not right now at least. Maybe never again. Wave after wave of tears fell in fat blobs down my face, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I held on tight to Katakuri’s arm. I could feel his regret, pain and shame mixing in with my turbulent emotions at the sight of me crying. My antennae settled into a deep cerulean blue that lit up my crying visage. It wasn’t long before I felt his free hand come to my back and rub it gently. That only encouraged my breakdown, enticing me to hug his arm in my hold tighter. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve put you through too much today. I’m sorry I couldn’t win. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I’m sorry-” 

“No! Be-Be quiet!!” I shook my head in a childish manner, not wanting to hear those remorseful words misplaced in his mouth. His voice was shaky and his chest shuddered with every regretful word he pushed out, seemingly on the edge of joining me in tears. Whether that was my doing or his own sorrow showing itself, I didn't know. The sound of him being so defeated brought back the anger I felt earlier towards Strawhat, but this time it was aimed towards the real culprit: Big Mom. 

None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t taken that blonde cook. He obviously wanted nothing to do with Germa, not that I blame him for disassociating from those monsters. Yes, Katakuri would always protect his family because of his own sense of responsibility and love, but she created and invited this threat, just like every other danger, to the family. I knew he could feel my silent anger, but I didn't dare bring up that topic right now. For the moment being, I was just worried about my husband, and only him.

Lifting my head up, my mouth was downturned in a frown as I subdued my crying and swallowed my indignation to continue talking. I saw the suspected tears in Katakuri’s eyes as he moved his shiny gaze from the ruined ceiling to my indignant face. Oh, how I hated that self-loathing look in his beautiful red eyes.

“None of this is your fault. You did your best, I know you did, Katakuri. Why are you apologizing to me when you took on such a powerful opponent with everything you had? You were lying here in a bloody heap at the end of your battle, all because of that damn Strawhat boy. You are more than enough. More than your mom or I deserve. The only thing you should be apologizing for is making me think you died.” The last part of my rant was whispered quietly, the words being the biggest fear I’ve had all day. I swiped at my face, trying fruitlessly to wipe away some of the wetness coating it. His sharp toothed mouth hung open like a fish out of water. He had nothing to say to my rebuttal, but the swelling of tears slipping down his face said it all. 

The tight feeling of anger was washed away completely by that soft face. The face of a man who’s been given the grace he deserves. Seeing him crying made me smile. He would have never shown this type of emotion to anyone else in his family since he wanted to be seen as an immovable force that protects them, but now that image was shattered. And I'm starting to think it's a good thing he lost. I threw myself down onto his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. A watery laugh escaped me as I buried my face into his strong neck and his large arms enveloped me in their comforting embrace. Even though he lost, he was still my protector. In his arms was still the safest place I felt I could be.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

Muffled voices prodded at my subconscious. I couldn’t discern anything as I pressed my face closer to the warm, squishy thing I lay upon. One of the voices was deeper and closer than the others, the vibration of their words humming through my body. I tried to just ignore it and go back to sleep, but the longer the voices continued the more awake I became. And with my resurfacing consciousness came the pain of my body as I tried moving. The soreness everywhere and sharp pain on my knees made me grimace in regret.

“Shh. . . sleeping. . . don't wake. . .”

“. . . eeping? . . hard as a rock. . . she won’t wake. . .” 

The two other voices that weren't the soothing rumbling began to argue, and until I opened my eyes I wasn't sure where I was, or who was talking. The first thing I saw was pink. Bleariness had my mind as slow as a tortoise as I peeled my face away from the squishy pink thing. Pulling away further, I realized it was a person’s chest. My husband’s chest to be exact. Finally, everything came rushing back and anxiety shot through me like an archer’s arrow. Despite my sore body’s protests, I sat up and looked around wildly. 

I was in Katakuri and my’s room, lying in our bed. Katakuri sat propped up beside me with a lot of large pillows behind him and heavily bandaged. On either side of our bed was Cracker and Brulee, who was the source of the “hushed” bickering. Everyone froze when I popped up like a gopher. I probably looked like a mess right now, and acting so crazy definitely didn't help that rap. Brulee was the first to break the deafening silence. 

“Y/N-nii! You're okay! I was so worried that you weren't gonna wake up just like Katakuri-nii! It was horrible what you two went through! That damn Strawhat, I'll kill him myself!” The large, wispy woman had pounced on me when she started her blubbering, holding onto me tightly by my waist while crying into my stomach. Her tight embrace didn't do my aching body any favors, but the familiar touch made me relax. Her feelings of relief and joy gave me a small boost of energy.

“Sorry to worry you, Brulee. It's okay, I'm fine.” I wheezed out with strained breaths. 

“Get off of her, you witch! You’re really gonna kill her like that!” Cracker came to my rescue in his own little Cracker way. His instigation made the emotional woman let go of me and engage in yet another bickering match, but this one was full volume now that they didn't have to worry about waking me up. I rubbed at my tender muscles while letting out a few amused chuckles. With his siblings’ distraction, I had forgotten to address my husband beside me.

“I'm glad you're awake.” His baritone voice commented quietly. My heart leapt to my throat, and I couldn't turn around fast enough to fully focus on him. There he was, in all his handsome glory. The fact that I could see his whole face caught me off guard. I glanced from him to his two siblings with a silent question before scooting back to his bare side. I decided to voice my obvious question when he said nothing.

“Why aren't you wearing-?”

“I don't need it. At least not with them, and not right now. Mama has decided to continue pursuing Strawhat who is heading to Wano. Some of our siblings are going with her while the rest of us stay to recuperate and rebuild the kingdom.” Despite his serious words, there was a small smile on Katakuri’s face as he talked about his mother going to chase Strawhat Luffy. It made me think about the question he asked that boy. The connection made me giggle. 

Cracker and Brulee stopped their argument at my tinkle of laughter. I couldn't hold it in, and my giggles grew into a full on laughter. Katakuri smiled happily at my joy, soon joining me with a few low chuckles of his own that blossomed into one of his rare laughters as well. We couldn't see it, but Brulee was smiling fondly at our seemingly random laughter with Cracker looking bewildered between all three of us. 

“What the fuck are you both laughin-”

“Come on, let's go check on our other siblings, Cracker.” Brulee grabbed Cracker by a bandaged arm, eliciting a pained cry from him, and dragged him from his seat to our nearby full length mirror. With a hefty push from the tall woman, Cracker was sent into the Mirro-World. Before she went through herself, she spoke to us as we came down from our laughing high.

“You two should rest. I'll tell everyone to let you have your time alone today, wiwiwi.~” And with that, we were alone. I sat there catching my breath as the peace settled in our room. A deep breath quieted my emotions into content, and I could feel the same coming from my paramount husband. My arms snaked around as much of his chest as they could and gave him a tight squeeze which I was sure he barely felt. 

“I'm glad you're happy. Happier. Maybe now. . . you could be more yourself. No more hiding and putting up that omnipotent facade.” Hope for my lover’s possible boost in his self-image bloomed in my chest as I slowly tilted my head up to look at him. He wouldn't look me in the eye, and there was a solemn doubt in his eyes and heart. 

“Perhaps. Though, things of this matter are not so easily changed. Especially not in my family. You know this.” His comment procured a furrow on my brow. Not wanting him to fall off into a dark place again so quickly, I moved into his lap, straddling his waist as my small hands reached up to direct his face to mine. 

“What if you were the one to change that?” That simple question held a few different meanings. Meanings I'm sure the man before me could easily decipher after three years of marriage. He’d never admit it to anyone, but I felt it. I felt his relief when he lost. The joy when Strawhat said he’d come back. The buried hope that Big Mom would fall. Every burden he’s been caused was because of his mother, as is with his siblings. It was a sure bet that Katakuri would be voted the captain of the Big Mom Pirates if his mother fell. Then he could begin to heal his family and himself. 

Katakuri stayed quiet for a good few moments, but I didn't need a verbal answer. I knew the answer of his heart. With my hands on his jaw, and us finally being alone after such a long, draining battle, I couldn't help the beckoning I felt towards him. Even all bandaged up and bed ridden, Katakuri still had my heart and body in a hold. The pain of the cuts on my knees were no match for the yearning burning in me. With deliberate movements, it didn't take long for my lips to slowly mesh into his. The familiar feeling of his sharp teeth prodded at my chin and upper lip, but it just spurred me on. He tasted like donuts, as usual. 

Katakuri seemed to have no qualms with my choice of action since his large hands were soon encompassing my hips. Lithe fingertips danced from his jaw to the back of his neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps along the way. His semi upright position on the bed made it easier for me to lay upon him fully and deepen our sweet kiss. My heart raced faster, and I already knew my antennae were a deep rose pink as they lowered against my head. With flushed cheeks, I minimally pulled away to catch my breath. Upon opening my eyes, my lust filled ones were met with the love littered ones of my husband. The look he gave me, made me a bit shy for being so forthright with my desires. Though, the tent I felt against my butt suggested that it was not unwelcome. 

After a brief spell of bashfulness, I willed myself to continue. It was too late to stop, and I had done enough holding back during the day of the wedding. Not to mention the time I've been asleep. With that thought in mind, I crashed my eager mouth back into Katakuri’s, wrapping my arms around his muscled neck. I could feel him taking in a deep breath through nose but didn't pull away. In fact, he pulled me closer by my hips. Kata was as needy as I was, but still maintained his self-restrictions. His apprehensiveness to indulge himself in me had my clenching insides groaning in exasperation. It wasn't long before I was pushing myself back against his growing sex with apparent longing. 

Our passionate kiss devolved into one of sloppy desire until I wrenched my lips from his to latch onto his neck. With it being covered all the time, it was an easy weakness I could exploit. Just a soft faux bite right below his jaw had him squeezing my hips tighter. A restrained groan hummed against my mouth as Kata let out hot, heavy pants against my shoulder. I continued my soft bites into his warm skin. My teeth sunk into his flesh, tasting mochi, which showed that he allowed me to do this. The feeling of his large muscles straining against me as he still held himself back drew out soft whines from my throat. 

“Kata.~ Please, I need you so bad. I know you want to use me.” My usually modest voice rang with sultry desire as I whispered into my husband’s ear. My teasing yanked another seemingly pained groan from him, making him press his sharp nose to my shoulder. Those sharp teeth were just a hair away from my own neck. The thought of what he could do to me with them made me shiver.

“Don't do this to me, love. I can't. . . I might just. . .” He growled out his labored warning to me. Usually, I would back off and continue to set the pace, but today was different. Today, I wanted to press all the wrong buttons to get the “punishment” I've always been threatened with. For once I wanted my husband to be the one in pure sensual bliss. He deserved it after everything he’s been through. This was my gift to him. If he couldn't unapologetically be himself anywhere else in his life, I wanted him to be completely open with me. Verbally and physically.

Deciding upon this course of action put a tingle in my spine. I could finally do all the teasing I wanted and say all those things that drove him crazy. Katakuri had been preoccupying himself with kneading my bare thighs from under my nightgown and leaving soft kisses along my now exposed shoulder. Soft mumbles of praise from him to me sung into my ears, only making me more excited for what was to come. He was already teetering on a thin edge. 

I continued to roll my hips back and forth against his fully hard bulge. Slowly and deliberately. A soft whimper escaped me each time I rolled just right over my sensitive spot, clinging to him like he was my lifeline. 

“You can't leave me like this. I want it all, I know I can take it. Just fuck me all you want. It'd be so easy and feel so good.~” Yet another growl rumbled against my chest from his as I continued whispering dirty nothings in his ear. 

“Y/N. Stop. Please.” He used my full name. He was serious, but despite his firm tone, I could feel his raging lust banging on the grates of his body. Screaming from the sewers to let it come out to play to its heart content. I was dangling the key so carelessly above the ravenous hands stretching through the gaps. My own lust had already taken over my body. It was in control with the rest of my emotions tied up and left to watch with morbid curiosity how this would end. All I did was smile and run my hands down his chiseled chest. 

I didn't respond to his plea and demand, but instead continued my dangerous game. I detached myself from him and led my lips on a trail from his neck to his waist band. As I looked up at my needy lover, I could see the dangerous glint in his red eyes. Not the one he got when he was fighting, this was different. It felt more animalistic and unkempt. Something I hadn't felt in him before. It was like there was a whole new part of him that had been closed off, and I was the first to experience it this way. My butt swayed restlessly behind me, my lower stomach begging for relief of this infernal itch deep inside me. And there was only one way to get rid of it. Excitement overrode my momentary fear as I held his warning gaze while making quick work of his pants and boxers.

Finally, the thing I pined after stood before me, lighting my body abuzz and cheeks ablaze. Precum had darkened a wet spot on his boxers and showed no signs of stopping as his cock twitched and pulsed in my hands. A giggle bubbled out of me as I pressed my cheek to the shaft and kissed my way up to the soft, wet tip. I hummed in satisfaction when the soft pink head slid into my mouth, my tongue swirling around his sensitive glands. Just with this much, my mouth was half full, but I knew that other parts of me could handle him just fine. I felt like I could handle anything as long as it satisfied him. This progress had Katakuri moaning and gently holding my head. There was no push of his hands or buck of his hips, but I knew he wanted more. Well if he wanted more today, then he’d have to take more. I let go of my tight grip on his head with a pop, licking my lips as I swallowed his stringy fluids. 

“Doesn't my mouth feel good? You know what would feel even better than my little mouth?” I called out once again to Kata, bringing him out of his haze of pleasure. I continued to slowly pump his full length with both hands, but only rubbed his tip along my now wet cheek. 

“Ka-ta-kur-i.~ Why don't you wanna make your wife feel good?~ I'm begging you.~ I promise it will feel great for both of us.~ Please?~” A faux pout puffed my cheeks when he didn't respond, just letting out those deep, restraining growls and grunts. I knew it would take more than a little teasing to get him to let loose. I let go of his cock fully and sat up on my bandaged knees. The adrenaline pumping through my hot body nulled the pain from them as I took the straps of my nightgown and tugged them leisurely down my arms. The thin, flowy fabric of the gown already showed my perked up nipples through it, but I knew he liked seeing the real deal. The small straps fell off my fingers, but bunched up on my hips, unable to completely fall off without some assistance. 

I crawled back on top of my heavily breathing husband, his sharp eyes hooded with lust, hovering my gooey entrance over his weeping tip. The urge to slide down on it, and ride us both to completion was tempting, but kept my eyes on the prize. Or eyes on the punishment, more like. With us face to face again, I could feel the hot breaths emanating from his mouth and fanning against my face. He could feel my awaiting sex so close as well. Those dangerous eyes trailed from my exposed breasts to my still covered lower half leaving me feeling vulnerable under their piercing scrutiny. He was expecting me to continue my undressing and, subsequently, start riding him like usual. All I did was give him a smile.

“Need some help?” He asked lowly and gruffly. There was a gravel to his voice that brought back the urge once again. It was so close. No. I had a plan. I reserved the right to give my husband what he needs. Even if he doesn’t think he needs it. I gave a nod, unable to talk as his hot gaze stayed on my face. Wanting to ignore his commanding stare, I moved closer to his face. I knew something that he fell apart at. My damp lips pressed against the clammy skin of his cheek, adorning his scar with a kiss. I didn't stop at one, and softly placed a kiss all along his left cheek’s scar. The skin was smooth but raised, and I would imagine it was as sensitive as his neck. My assumption was proven right when he sucked in a sharp breath, held it, then let it out shakily. 

I could feel his hands squeeze at the damp skin on my thighs closest to my entrance before languidly sliding up to my silky gown. Suddenly, with what seemed like little to no effort, he grabbed both sides of my clothing and tore it in two along with my panties. The sound of the threads snapping so quickly had my breath catching in my throat. Pulling back from his cheek, his eyebrows were furrowed like he was angry, and he was. Angry at the built up sexual frustration and my teasing. Gradually, he sat up, making me quickly hug onto his neck and press my fully naked body to his chest. It didn't take long for our positions to be switched with me underneath Katakuri, and him huffing above me. His hands were quick to push down his pants more and tug them off of himself fully, but swiftly went back to caging me against the bed. 

“Do you need something, dear?~” I moved to an innocent facade, but I knew he saw right through me. I was excited and the way my legs wrapped around his waist and positioned his head at my awaiting entrance was proof of that. He didn't respond yet, and just moved his right arm above me to hold himself up as his left hand moved underneath my lower back to hold me tight. Not too tight to hurt me, but I couldn't hope to get out of his grip. Not that I wanted to.

“You want to take me whole? Want to make me feel good with your little needy hole? Is that what my pretty little wife wants?” Katakuri hardly ever talked dirty to me. Usually it was just praise and sweet talk as we took it slow, maybe the occasional innuendo. But this was him listening to my wants and his needs obliging. This new side of him had me half scared of the consequences and half begging for the pleasure. The duality wasn’t hard to choose between. He was standing on the wire, and all I had to do was blow him one way or another. This was probably my last chance to turn back.

“I need an answer, love. Tell me to stop.” His soft voice was begging me to tell him no. He was scared of hurting me still, even though he so clearly wanted to fuck me to his heart’s content. I had convinced a part of him to act on his wants for once. The sweet side of him that I was used to was barely holding back the ravenous animal that was clawing its way to the surface. All I could do was smile and put a hand to his clenched jaw as I raised my lips to his ear.

“Do what you want.~” A silent beat. Two. A deep, almost pained, groan erupted from my husband. Soon, my twitchy insides were being stretched to their limits. His impossibly hard cock was already halfway inside of me, bullying its way to my cervix. The suddenness knocked the breath out of me, but a gasping moan fell from my lips. I clenched hard around his member, telling him to continue. My efforts were met with a deeply pleasured moan from the giant man above me. Before now, Katakuri would have told me to stop here to keep me from hurting myself. That worry was nowhere to be seen now as his hips pulled back slowly only to snap forward once again, burying his cock deeper inside of me still. 

“Fuck! Oh my gosh, it's so good! Kata!” My words slurred together as the disarming pleasure rolled through my body like a riptide, sweeping my wits from under me. I never knew sex could feel this wild. My reactions to his movements reassured the part of him still worried about my well being, allowing him to more assuredly continue his pace. A steady rhythm was set, faster than one we’ve had before. His large hand encapsulating my waist moved me back and forth in sync with his hips. I felt like a ragdoll being used for his pleasure. Each deep pound felt like I was being split apart, but I could hardly keep up with every one as my head spun with pleasure. 

Katakuri was in no better state than I was, seemingly drunk on the bliss that fucking me like this brought. His face was buried in the pillow above my head, and I could hear him mumbling to himself. It was hard to pick up every word, but I could tell it was about how good he felt. The satisfaction of hearing him sound so lost in the pleasure only made every snap of his hips feel that much better. I explored his sweaty chest with my hands as my legs clung to his sides. One hand traveled up to his damp, magenta locks, raking their way up and down his scalp. This enticed him to lower his head from the pillow to my face and engage me in a sloppy yet passionate kiss.

I desperately sunk my fingers into his hair, holding him to me as we made out. I craved him, every last part of him I adored and I wanted all of him to be mine. Needy whines and whimpers of mine sounded into our kiss as I departed to talk. 

“Don't stop. Don't stop until you're satisfied. I love you so much, please, feel so good for me. You're so deep in me and I love it!~” The confident attitude I had earlier had dissipated in the face of Katakuri’s raw power, and now I just wanted to please my husband. His whole cock was almost fully sheathed inside of me every time his hips hit my thighs. My insides felt so gooey and stretched out already. I had already cum once, and everything was getting to be too much. We hadn’t gone this long before, and I wasn't used to the power of his full thrusts. 

Katakuri stared down at me, locked onto my blissed out face contorted erotically as I begged for him. That seemed to spur him up again, and I could feel a burst of love and sexual fervor rush from him to me. With renewed energy, he sat up on his knees, taking his member out of me. The emptiness I felt without him made me fuss and shake my hips in dissatisfaction. Without a word, I was flipped over onto my stomach and returned the fullness of my husband’s cock but from behind. His hot tip dragged along all the right places as he slid inside me again. Involuntarily, my eyes rolled back, and a loud groan escaped me. The same hand returned to its spot around my waist to hold me in place as Katakuri restarted his pace in this new position. 

This turn of events knocked the breath of me again, and I was left wheezing as he lay on top of me, pressing me into the bed with his hard chest at my back. Nails gripped the sheets, toes curled, but I couldn't let out a single word. I didn't have to because he began mumbling again, but this time in my ear so I could hear.

“I have such a beautiful wife. I'm so lucky to have you, I'm sorry I'm so selfish. It just feels so good, you feel so good. Thank you for letting me feel so good with you. I can't stop until I make you feel the best. I love you too, Y/N, I love you.” He continued to repeat snippets of that as he got sloppy with his thrusts. Despite the slower pace, each thrust slammed into my butt like a sledgehammer, bringing out my second orgasm. This one was more intense as tears sprouted to my eyes and my walls spasmed hard around his cock. The overstimulation left me a wreck as I blubbered out, “I'm cumming, cummin’, cumminggg!~” deliriously.

That was the last straw for Katakuri as he grunted loudly a few times before quickly pulling out and making a mess of my back with his own cum. Harsh breaths from both of us filled the muggy, sex smelling air of our room. It didn't take long for Katakuri to finish letting everything out, so soon he collapsed beside me on his back. We both took a good amount of time calming down from the heated sex we just had. I was fully satisfied, if not overly so, as I lay there covered in cum and with my orgasm leaking out of me. I could already feel my back hurting from the arch it was forced into by my lover's thrusts and weight, but none of that mattered. 

All that mattered was the dazed look of full satisfaction in Katakuri’s eyes as he came down from his high. He always held himself back when we had sex. This was the last wall he had up in front of me, that deep rooted fear of hurting me keeping him from entirely enjoying himself. I was grateful for the amount of vulnerability I was able to see from my paramount husband on a regular basis, but call me greedy because I wanted every last part of him on display for me. We were two very opposite people when it came to sharing our wants and needs, but as we’ve proved over the past three years, opposites attract.

“Can. . . we do that more?” Asked a meek Katakuri, his deep voice cutting through the silence. My face was buried in the mattress, but I turned it towards him with a lopsided smile. 

“I thought you'd never ask. Though, maybe next time we should use protection so you don't have to pull out.” I winked at him as his already red cheeks darkened. An embarrassed groan escaped him and he quickly got up to head to the bathroom. 

“I'm getting a towel for you and running a bath. Maybe once you're clean you'll stop instigating such dirty actions.” He grumbled, making me pout. I opened my mouth to retort, but he beat me to the punch.

“Don't say that unless you’re ready for the punishment.” 

Damn his future vision. With a huff, I stayed silent and just waited for my towel. For now. As I waited, my gaze drifted over to Katakuri’s nightstand. On it sat that dirty black hat that Strawhat put on his mouth after their battle. My eyes softened at the memento. I'd have to thank Strawhat one day for what he did for Katakuri. 

My antennae turned dusty pink.

And with that, This little unexpected mini series of my favorite mochi man ends.~ This won't be the last of him, but I have other wonderful characters that are calling my name.~ Thank you, dearies, and see you, hopefully, soon.~

Part 1 <- - Part 2 <- - Part 3

[wosowrites]

New Fear Unlocked (Mapi Leon x Reader)

Warnings: ⚠️swearing⚠️

A/n: i know germany was in the finals but for the sake of this story let’s say it was spain instead. based off this request:

Prompt: in which mapi makes a bad tackle against you in the euro final, ending your tournament and season.

"With Spain playing England in the Euro final, it’s important to talk about both teams. But the real surprise right now is the fact that Spain has actually made it this far. Why? Mapi Leon’s questionable defending."

"The real shock is usual defensive champion, María León’s rocky performance throughout this tournament."

"Spain’s number 16 is going to have to step up during this final or they’ll get crushed by the Lionesses."

"Another thing that needs to be talked about is the relationship between british superstar striker, Y/n Y/l/n who’s been having a great tournament and shockingly questionable María León, who’s given heart attacks to Spanish fans all over the world for her close calls and bad mistakes. Seeing this power couple for barcelona play each other in a final will be interesting."

"María. Get off your phone. You know better." Ona told the older woman in spanish, snatching her phone and plopping it in the defenders bag. "We play the biggest game of our lives in 45 minutes. The last thing you need is that device." Ona added. "I know. I know." Mapi said, pulling out her cleats and putting them on.

"Big game, y/n. How do you feel?" Your captain asked you. You were manspreading on the bench at your cubby, your forearms resting on your thighs, your head hung in thought. "I feel as though I want to make my country proud." You told Leah, looking up at her and smiling. "And…" She added. "And i’m terrified. Of hurting Mapi, of loosing, of making a mistake." You told her. Most of the team had headphones in, but you didn’t listen to music before games. Leah sat down beside you and looked at you. "You have already made your country proud, if we loose, we loose together, if you make a mistake, we have all got your backs. And you and María have been dating for three years, this will not be the end of your relationship. I promise you." Leah said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. "You’re right. You’re right." You said to her. She smiled at you and walked back to her cubby. You were starting today, and so was Mapi. It would be hard, and scary, and you didn’t know what tomorrow would look like.

You walked into the tunnel wearing your England kit and your england jacket. Your hair was in a tight messy bun on the top of your head, and Mapi was standing in line at the same spot you were. You gently reached out and squeezed her hand, she squeezed back and you made sure not to make eye contact with her. Today, she was the opponent, and nothing else.

You knew what the media was saying about your girlfriend, and it made your blood boil. When you talked to Mary Earps about it, she listened, but told you you couldn’t focus on that. She was right.

Soon, the referees started walking and you followed your squad out. You made your way into Wembley, the crowd bringing the most wild atmosphere you had every experienced. You lined up and the spanish national anthem started playing. You stood tall respectfully, it was your girlfriend home country and your clubs country after all. But when the english anthem played, you pushed your shoulders back, lifted your chin, put one hand on your heart and the other one behind your back. You sang, badly, but so was everyone else.

And then… kickoff.

You were a winger, which you thought really annoying for this exact game, because Sarina had put you left wing, and Mapi was right back, which means you’d be clashing throughout the game.

The first 20 minutes were dramatic. The pressure was sky high, the environment was wild, and at least ten fouls for both teams were called. But after that, it calmed down a bit.

The start of the second half was slow, everyone was freaking out, not wanting it to go to penalties. Leah was constantly having to yell at her squad to calm down and breathe. It was as though everything both teams had learned about staying calm and composed went flying out the window. And then, out of nothing, you received the most splendid ball from Keira Walsh. And then you were running, you took one touch, Mapi on one said, Ona Batlle on the other, and lifted the ball over the keeper and into the net.

Wembley went crazy. You ran as fast as you could towards then bench, arms wide, fans screaming, team yelling, atmosphere unmatched.

The kickoff happened three minutes later, and almost right away, England got the ball back and it was sent to Ella Toone. The woman received it perfectly, but then switched it to you. That’s when you felt an ankle collide with yours. You knew immediately something was wrong. Your ankle folded inwards and you yelled, loud enough for the stadium who were mostly holding their breaths to hear. You saw a cleat clear the ball away, and that’s when you saw the initials. Through your agony, even though you were rolling on the floor, crying and holding your ankle. You could see the initials ML on those cleats. The cleats that had just taken you out.

Leah, Ella and Chloe were soon at your side, calling over the medics. "What’s wrong?" Ella asked, crouching beside you. "Is she okay?" You asked a spanish voice say. "Get away from her. Right now." You heard Fran Kirby say. You ignored Mapi and Fran, too focused on the pain in your ankle. "I don’t know. But it’s wrong. Something is wrong." You cried, lying on your back and holding your ankle to your chest. You heard the stadium cheer and could only assume your girlfriend had gotten a yellow. You looked over to confirm your theory. Red.

She hadn’t done it on purpose. You knew that. You weren’t mad. Pained, sad, scared? Yes. Mad? No. You watched Mapi look at you with a look of despair before walking towards the tunnel. The medics were at your side now, touching your ankle and unlacing your cleat. As one of the men tried to take it off, you screamed loudly, putting your fist in your mouth to stay quiet. "It’s broken. For sure." The man whispered to the woman beside him. "Fuck." She muttered, looking at you.

You looked at the faces of your teammates, all of them broken to loose their goalscorer. "No." You cried. "No."

But the medics were waving over a stretcher, and you had pulled your jersey over your face, trying to hide your crying face. You kept it over your face as you got put into the stretcher, you hid your face as Leah whispered reassurance to you, you kept it hidden as the crowd stood up and cheered for you loudly. You kept it hidden as they carried you into the medical room and walked past Mapi, who was sitting against the wall in the entrance, crying almost as loudly as you were.

In the medical room, you had abandoned your shirt, wanting no recollection of the history making game being played only a few steps away from you. And then you heard screaming, but it wasn’t loud. Just loud enough to make it clear that the spaniards were happy. They had leveled the game. You started crying even harder. "We should really get you to a hospital y/n." One of the medics said. "Listen. My team is out there working their asses off to win the euros, and when we do, because we will, i’m going to walk out on that pitch in crutches and celebrate with them. Am I clear?" You told her. She nodded, and got out things to keep your ankle steady.

Mapi, who was now siting in the away locker room, was watching the game on the TV in there. And when Alexia scored, she couldn’t even find it in her to care. She just wanted to go back in time and not have fouled you. She just hoped you would forgive her.

The second your ankle was wrapped up and put in a boot, you stood up and used crutches to make your way back into the pitch. When you walked out, people went wild again, you smiled slightly, trying to seem brave through your surely puffy eyes. Sarina and some players walked up too you. Hugging you and congratulating you on your goal. You told them it was broken and your club season was over, they looked almost as sad as you did. It was only three minutes later that Chloe Kelly found the back of the net. She took off her shirt and ran around the stadium as you pumped your fists in the air, staying seated and yelling.

And then it was all over.

The spaniards fell to the ground, some of the lionesses did too, but for different reasons. You went as quickly as you could onto the pitch, but your crutches were bringing you nowhere.

You were angry, angry not at Mapi but at the media for making her feel as though she had something to prove, for messing with her mind. You saw Lucy Bronze run up to you. You stopped in your tracks and let your crutches fall, balancing on one foot and ignoring the pain in the broken one. She wrapped her arms around you, picking you up and letting you wrap your legs around her waist. You hugged her and cried, she did too, and then she put you on her back and carried you to the rest of the girls who started screaming and jumping and crying at the sight of you. The team, the managers, every person that made the lionesses, the lionesses came into a big group hug, while still being mindful of your ankle.

It was when people started going to find their families and friends in the crowd that Millie sat you down in the middle of the field, asked if you were okay and then left to find her boyfriend that it sunk in. That everything sunk in. That England were european champions, that you had scored in a euro final, that you’re ankle was broken because of the love of your life, and that the only person you wanted to see was crying by herself in the away locker room. You didn’t have anyone else. Your family was on the pitch, in barcelona, and on the opposite team. Your parents were deadbeat, all your friends were football players, and you have never felt this emotion before. The crossover between feeling lost, and feeling pure and utter joy.

The trophy lift was unreal, the smiles on people’s faces, unmatched. But when fans started leaving, and England made their way into the changing rooms, you parted from the group with Sarinas permission. You made your way instead to the Spanish locker room. The whole corridor was silent, and what broke the silence was your first rapping against the door. Aitana Bonmati, another one of your Barcelona teammates opened the door. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were wet, and at the sight of her you started crying as well. And not the happy tears from the trophy lift. "I’m sorry." You hiccuped. Aitana abandoned the door and hugged you tightly, mindful of your crutches. "It’s okay darling. Shh." She said lovingly. You felt bad for having her comfort you. You pulled away and saw the spanish team in the changing room, the head coach looked like he didn’t want you there at all, and in all honesty, you were scared of him. Mapi was nowhere to be seen. "I need to talk to María." You told Aitana.

She nodded stiffly and walked into the bathroom connected to the changing room. A minute later, Mapi walked out. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, she was shaking and she couldn’t look at you. She walked into the hallway and stood in the middle of the corridor. You closed the changing room door, struggling a little. "I’m so-" Mapi started saying. "Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. You made… a bad tackle. Yes. But you would have never, ever done that if it wasn’t for the media and what people were saying. They got to you. And I hate that. I hate it." You said, sniffling and playing with the medal around your neck.

Mapi looked up and you, her lower lip shaking. "Really? You’re not breaking up with me?" Mapi said.

You looked at her sadly. "Put your back against the wall." You told her.

She raised her eyebrows, using her tattooed palm to wipe away her teary cheeks. She didn’t argue though, placing her back on the wall and looking at you in confusion. You used your crutches to walk over to her, placing yourself in front of her. Balancing on one foot, you took both crutches and leaned them against the wall beside Mapi. You put your hands on her stomach, feeling her rock hard abs. And then you kissed her. You kissed her to tell her you loved her, and you forgave her, and you were sorry Spain lost. And she kissed you to tell you she loved you, she was sorry for injuring you, and she was so proud you had won.

Because after all, it was always going to be Mapi and Y/N, Y/N and Mapi.