#this is poorly written but it's been on my mind for weeks

[togaschako]

Tomura and Natsuo definitely got caught making out on the couch by Endeavor and Fuyumi. Fuyumi tried to let Endeavor and Natsuo sit down and talk about it while she drove Tomura home. When she got back, they were still staring at each other.

[amuyyi]

warm enough .

synopsis; recovering from an expected breakup, you find yourself drunk at a nearby bar, encountering an unfamiliar girl who happens to know your ex.

trope; non idol!ningning x fem!reader, uni au, fluff, a little angst, a little suggestive, strangers to lovers, feat. kep1er members :3

wc; 4.8k

cw; a little suggestive but not really

a/n; fun fact this happened to me irl ! figured i could use my experiences for stories ! everything from the breakup to the bar kiss is based on my personal experience so lol have fun. also its kinda poorly written because i wrote some of it while on the plane + in china while being very tired and i dont feel like proofreading so im sorry ^^'

The breakup was supposed to be a mutual thing. A smooth and easy agreement between you and Jimin. You guys met in a cafe when your soon-to-be-ex girlfriend finally dropped the bomb on you. 

“I still care a lot about you, y/n. But I want to focus on myself and my future… I think you should too.”

You wanted to speak up, say that you didn’t want to let go yet. Just… hold on for a little longer. Maybe it’d get better if you guys just kept it going for another week. Another month. Another day?

 “What I’m trying to say is…”

You always hated this part.

“I think we should break up.”

Despite the older girl being the one to initiate the ending of the relationship, you always knew it was coming. Jimin was sweet, and you definitely did enjoy the little dates you guys had been on through the past year, but there was something missing. Every time she looked at you, it seemed like she was looking through your eyes into her own. Her mind was always elsewhere whenever you two were together, like she was searching for something you couldn’t provide. She never seemed to smile around you, never laughed loudly or hugged you with warmth. 

You really tried to be the person for her, you really did; but it was apparent that she was trying to convince herself you were the one as well.

It was shown in the way she bought you endless gifts with things you said you wanted, but never kissed you, In the way she would allow you to hold her hand, but never reached out herself, how she couldn’t bring herself to say “I love you” out loud. Jimin was cold.

You agreed that this was the best path to take, how you felt the exact same way and that it would be good for the both of you, but the tears that nonconsensually left your eyes said otherwise. You still remember the last words you told her before you got up to leave.

“I really hoped it was you.”

There's a saying or the other. “Your body will know if someone is right for you.” You came across it while aimlessly scrolling on social media once, and you thought it was an interesting but ridiculous concept. Countless people would share stories about how their hair would fall out or how they would break out into horrible acne when they were with their past partners, only being relieved from this when single or with their “match.”

It was funny, and you didn’t believe one bit of it until it actually happened. The tightness in your chest that followed you every time you two went out together, the stress of wondering if she actually enjoyed her company, the way you couldn’t truly relax in her presence– it all went away. It all left when she walked out of your life, and you’ve never felt more at peace with a decision. At least, for a little bit.

The breakup was the easy part. It was the recovery that ruined you.

You were the one to establish a rule of no contact, even after you both expressed wanting to stay in touch. It was your only way to hold on to the last sliver of pride you had left after spending a year chasing after Yu Jimin. The rule was established to allow you some time to heal, and you hoped to return to the girl as friends once you felt ready.

With this in mind, you then proceeded to spend a month barely eating, barely sleeping, and not leaving your apartment unless you needed to for classes. It was difficult to be on your own after dedicating so much time to her, falling behind, hoping that she would see you the way you saw her; but after about a month, you slowly felt yourself regaining your footing.

You started going out again, talking with your roommate, taking time to actually care for yourself. It was nice. Perhaps your progress would have left you comfortable enough to move on if you didn’t decide to go out that day.

There she was. Yu Jimin. After an exact 31 days of no contact with her, you finally cross paths. Quite literally, at that– but she wasn’t alone. There was a girl on her arm. She was pretty. Blonde with bobbed hair and a soft smile that made it impossible to hate her. Jimin was smiling too. This is the first time you’ve seen her smile like that, smiling as if she found what she was looking for after all of this time. She doesn't look past her. She sees her.

Jimin holds the other girl by the small of her waist the way she used to do with you, and she kisses her. She kissed her. Just like how she used to kiss you, but not exactly. There's love in her eyes. A warmth you’ve never seen before. In her eyes, there is certainty.

And that was the day your world came crashing down on top of you.

You tried to act normal as you walked past. You really did. Your eyes remain glued to your phone as your knuckles turn white. Her eyes didn’t even meet yours as you walked by. Why wouldn't she look at you? Maybe she's wondering why you won't look at her. That must be it. You hold your breath. As soon as she passed by, you couldn’t help yourself. You made the mistake of looking back.

…Nothing.

As soon as Jimin was out of sight, you cried. You ran home, scaring half the life out of your poor roommate, Xiaoting, as you collapsed in your bed. Everything hurts. Why did it hurt? You wanted this. You felt better without her— the tightness in your chest was gone. 

Instead, it was replaced by an indescribably painful ache. One that felt so deep within your soul it would never heal. Quietly entering your room, Xiaoting says nothing as she sits next to your limp body on the bed, rubbing your back comfortingly. The gesture only makes you sob even harder. 

She's been with you through it all. From the beginning of your relationship with Jimin till the end, she was there. Xiaoting really was a good friend.

From then on, Xiaoting’s one goal was simple: cheer you up. She would cook at least once for you every day despite not being the best chef, and she would allow you to rant about the same things over and over no matter how overbearing it got. Honestly, you started to feel a little bad. She shouldn’t have to bend over backwards for you just because you’re a little sad.

So when Xiaoting announces that you will be joining her at the bar with her friends tonight, you couldn't say no. Both because she stated it, not asked you, and that it simply was the least you could do for her. Especially after everything she’s done for you. Before you knew it, you were dressed up in your best (slutty) corset top and cargo pants with some hoops and over exaggerated makeup to accent the look. Xiaoting, as your best roommate and friend, matches with you, and you two make a big scene out of getting ready together; blasting music, doing each other's hair, borrowing each other's clothes, and more.

Xiaoting’s girlfriend Yujin had made herself at home for the pregame, and your mutual friend Hikaru soon followed. With Xiaoting as designated bartender, the four of you mingle, laughing and cracking jokes as the warmth of the alcohol and one another’s presence left you with a warming buzz. Xiaoting was an excellent mixer, and in combination with the chasers Hikaru bought and the drinking games Yujin proposed, you were all ready to go. 

Xiaoting and Yujin led the way, hand in hand as you and Hikaru trailed behind, drunkenly singing into the cold night air as you trek to the nearest bar.

Being a Friday night, the establishment had been as packed as expected, and you all squeezed your way past other visitors as you’re guided to a nearby table. Xiaoting starts off strong, ordering shots for the entire group before utilizing her combined charm alongside her girlfriend’s looks to convince guys to purchase drinks for everyone as well. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way the duo would bat their eyelashes innocently at lone men for drinks– but at least it worked.

Lazily, your eyes wander through the crowd, the alcohol in your system making it a struggle to see straight. Despite your inability to see properly, you still manage to catch a glimpse of your friends from the corner of your eye, and easily spot Yujin attempting to very publicly make out with Xiaoting as Hikaru struggles to pull her away. You stifle a laugh at the sight, and decide to leave the three to their antics whilst you look for someone to talk to.

It's been a while since you last struck up a conversation with a stranger. The last time you had put yourself out there was before you met… 

You shake your head. No. You are not letting your stupid ex ruin your night. Knitting your brows in concentration, you scan the bar. There were plenty of pretty girls to talk to, but you were feeling a little intimidated. Almost all of them came with at least one other person, and you didn’t want to intrude on anything…

 Your eyes landed on a lone blonde at the end of the table, scrolling through her phone with alcohol flushed cheeks. She seemed approachable. Worst case scenario, she simply shoos you off. Taking a deep breath, you approach the blonde, deciding to pull out your best conversation starter.

“Are you chinese? You look chinese!!” You exclaim, suddenly switching to mandarin in the middle of your sentence as you ask the question. Smooth.

The blonde girl looks as if she would’ve been extremely offended at the comment if you didn't just speak to her in her native tongue halfway through your sentence, and she quirks a brow at you, an amused smirk on her lips as she leans against the bar. 

“Yeah, I am! What's a cutie like you doing in a place like this alone??” 

You feel your heart begin to race. So far so good. “I'm not alone!!! My friends are just busy making out with each other and the other is trying to stop them!!” You also lean on the bar, though not as alluring as the blonde before you. More like you partially collapsed and partially slid on it.

She chortles at your response, “well that's not fair to you, leaving you here all alone.”

The sweet and somewhat sultry tone of the blonde makes (non alcohol induced) blush appear on your face as you laugh, “it really isn't! But whatever! My name is y/n by the way!! What's yours??” You scream over the music, sticking your hand out. It was an unexpectedly polite gesture considering your circumstances, and perhaps it may have seemed a bit comical as well with how drunk you were.

She giggles at the response, grabbing your hand then pulling you in, her lips dangerously close to your ear as she yells over the music, “Ning Yizhuo. But call me Ningning! It's cuter!”

You grin. Ningning was a cute nickname. You decided at this very moment you could trust this cute stranger with your life story and personal information she didn’t ask for, and begin to slur out.

“My friends dragged me out here because I was sad over my ex who moved on from me a month after the breakup even though we dated for a year and she's a big jerk for that even though I wish only the best for her but also I hope she dies!!!”

None of the words you spoke just now came out clear, and they seemed to trip over one another when leaving your mouth, but it was enough for the other girl to go from extremely relaxed to suddenly very heated. She stands up straight as her eyebrows knit together.

“To be honest I don’t think she ever really liked me in the first place! I don’t know!! Whatever it doesn’t matter!!!” You continue on, sounding absolutely pathetic as you let yourself feel through the anger you didn’t even know you were repressing, “I was stupid to stay with someone who couldn’t even look me in the eye when saying she loved me!! She was stupid to do the same!! Whatever!! I don’t know!!”

Ningning cuts you off with a raised hand before you can continue, “what the hell?! I hate people like that!!  You're wayyyy too hot to be treated that way! Who is she? What's her name?? I might know her!!”

Against your better drunken judgment, you decide to name drop your ex within a university bar. Because that is always a good idea. “Yu Jimin!! She's a engineering major !!!”

Ningning’s jaw drops as she stares at you, almost as if she were trying to find the correct words for what she has to say next.

“Girl, I know her !!!” She screams out after a brief moment of silence,  “we shared a class together once!! Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't know she was like that!! You deserve BETTER!” 

Before you could even think of what to say in reaction to that heavy load of information, Ningning grabs your face, pulling you into a kiss. It was a very messy one, her lips almost missing your own during the exchange. Seems like she's not entirely sober either. 

Still, even in your drunken state you knew what to do. Your hands immediately find Ningnings hair as you pull her in closer, and you can feel her smiling as she grazes her tongue over the bottom of your lip. 

You open your mouth to let her in and the only thing that you can think of or even feel for that matter is Ningning and her tongue. She… was really good at this. Jimin never kissed you like this before. Her hands trail down your back to your ass before she squeezes it, smirking when you squirm against her touch.

She breaks the kiss, her face inches away from yours as she breathes out, “you deserve so much better…” Ningning gives you a quick peck on the lips before stepping back, taking in her work with a devilish glint in her eyes. You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment before whipping out your phone, fully talking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were a wreck. How did all of that happen just now?

“Done by yours truly~” Ningning winks at you, quickly slipping your phone out of your hand and typing something in.

“Wh— Wait what are you doing?”

“Giving you my number, obviously. My girls are gonna wonder where I went.” She hands back your phone and looks at you with soft eyes through her drunken daze. 

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” Ningning kisses you one last time, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go. She disappears into the crowd of partygoers, a sly fox-like grin on her face.

“There you are!” 

You feel an arm land on your shoulder as you jump, twirling around and looking down to see a drunk Hikaru with a slightly less drunk Xiaoting and an absolutely hammered Yujin on her side.

“We should probably head back home!” Xiaoting screams into your ear, “Hikaru’s gonna knock out on the couch and Yujin will be with me!”

Her words barely make it through to you, the music and the alcohol and the adrenaline within your system muffling out every word spoken. Regardless, you still nod and trail behind your friends as you leave, not all too sure what just happened.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You lay in bed, eyes practically burning holes into the new contact in your phone. “宁宁<3” is what it said. 

So last night wasn’t just a dream. You really did just get a girl's number by doing nothing but spilling your secrets to a stranger. On top of all of that, your head was absolutely killing you, you swore you could feel your heartbeat within your brain. Still, that wasn’t important. Biting your lip, your fingers hover over the contact name. Should you message her? 

y/n [10:59]  — hey !! its y/n, the girl from the bar

y/n [10:59]  — thanks for keeping me company last night :)

ningning [11:06]  — i was wondering if u were gonna text me back

ningning [11:06] — and of course <3 jimin doesn’t know what she lost

y/n [11:08] — haha im flattered

y/n [11:08]  — but u barely know me??

ningning [11:11]  — that can change xx

Your eyes widen as you reread the text over and over again. Is she implying what you think she's implying? What if she's just being friendly? Can you even platonically make out with someone at the bar?

y/n [11:16] — are u asking me out on a date ning yizhuo ?

You wait. 

Oh god. What if she was just being friendly?

ningning [11:18]  — only if youll have me 

You feel yourself blush at her message, burying your face into your pillow as you squeal like a high school teenager in love. It was embarrassing in hindsight, but.. it felt nice to be wanted. 

y/n [11:19] —  of course

ningning [11:19] — perfect <3 

ningning [11:20] — dinner at my place tonight then? 

ningning [11:20] — If youre not too hungover.. 

ningning [11:20] — i got the best hangover cures ;)

you can't help but arch your eyebrow at the winky face she added at the end but brushed it off, more focused on the fact that your drunk hatred towards your ex landed you a date. 

You scramble to your feet and (metaphorically) kick down Xiaoting’s door, abruptly waking the girl from her nap as she screams out, “WO CAO!” She places a hand over her heart as she bolts up within her bed, immediately letting out a sigh of relief when she realizes it was just you. 

“Girl what the HELL is wrong with you?!” She hisses, laying back down and throwing the blanket over her head.

You, being the ever loving and best roommate ever, respond to this by jumping into bed with (on top of) the redhead and squeezing her as tight as you can while screaming “I HAVE A DATE!!!”

Xiaoting shoots back up, your arms still latched onto her torso as she looks down at you, eyes wide. “Wait, are you serious?”

You hear a low groan and a hand slapping your arm as you roll your eyes, slapping the arm back as the voice of Yujin grumbles out and shuffles deeper within the sheets.

Both you and Xiaoting look at one another and giggle before she quietly slips out of bed, quickly placing a kiss on Yujins head before grabbing your arm and leading you out of her room. Once outside, she firmly grasps your shoulders. 

“Okay, now tell me everything.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You nervously stand outside of Ningnings apartment, bag clutched in hand as you look back behind you. Xiaoting sat within her car on the side of the road, keeping an eye on you to make sure this girl wasn’t going to kidnap you or the other.

The two of you (and soon enough Yujin and Hikaru) had spent the day giving you pointers on how to go about the date. They had thrown an ungodly amount of clothes your way as well as telling you endless conversation starters and compliments to give another person. By the end of it all your head was overflowing with information that you were going to forget as soon as you head out the door, and all of your closet was sprawled on your bedroom floor and in the living room. Still, the girls seemed quite proud of their work.

All of you had consecutively agreed on an outfit that was nice, but not too nice. You wore a plaid skirt paired with a simple tank top and an off the shoulder cardigan.

Holding your breath, you ring the doorbell. You really hoped this wasn’t a mistake. When was the last time you were actually on a date with someone? You couldn't remember. After a few moments of silence, you hear shuffling followed by the door unlocking and Ningning poking her head out shyly. Her eyes light up at the sight of you before opening the door completely, revealing her outfit.

She wore an oversized plaid button up, unintentionally matching with your skirt alongside baggy jeans and some bunny slippers you thought were incredibly cute. Her hair was tied up in a messy but charming bun, held up by a hair stick with small gemstones dangling from the end.

This Ningning was completely different from the one you had met at the bar last night. Though, you suppose you were a different person now as well.

“You're here! Come in come in!” She grabs your hand and guides you inside. Flustered, you spare a quick glance behind you, and you can spot the silhouette of Xiaoting throwing a thumbs up from her car before Ningning closes the door behind you.

“You look gorgeous today, by the way,” Ningning compliments, her thumb rubbing over your fingers as she walks you through her apartment. The gesture makes your cheeks warm, and you find yourself easing into her touch like putty. It was a touch that was loving. Kind. Intentional. 

Her home was cozy, with white walls paired alongside warm lighting and paintings and other wall art lining the interior. There was an appetizing aroma that wafted through the air, and you had remembered that Ningning had offered to cook for you.

“What have you prepared for us tonight, chef Ningning?” You ask, squeezing her hand as she grins, “Well it's not much, I'm not a really good cook but I decided to make us some dumplings! A little basic, but it's the only dish I feel like I’ve actually perfected.”

“I hope this is the hangover cure you mentioned” you comment lightheartedly, and you sense a playful energy in the way she looks back at you.

“You'll find out soon enough.”

You once again find yourself quirking a brow at her vague answers, but she simply smiles at you innocently and you find yourself smiling back. It was hard to not be amused by her.

Ningning guides you to the kitchen, which was cleaned perfectly for your arrival. On the center of the table were multiple bamboo steamer baskets, as well as a large tea pot and a simple glass bottle with various native wildflowers as a centerpiece. 

The other girl pulls out a chair for you, and you teasing grin at the polite gesture, “how romantic, Ninging~”

She rolls her eyes and giggles before settling down herself, instantaneously pouring you a cup of tea as she gestures at the baskets, “go on, dig in. I’ll be personally offended if you don’t.”

Chuckling, you open up the baskets, releasing clouds of steam before revealing multiple handmade dumplings with various fillings and differing folding styles. Your eyes widen, and you simply comment, “wow,” before taking the first bite of the food.

To say that it tasted amazing was an understatement– you practically felt like you were thrown back to the motherland with a single bite, and it wasn’t long before you were filling your plate with more.

The two of you had spent the rest of the evening getting to know one another more. You had learned she was a computer science major and going onto her third year of uni, as well as the fact she was from Harbing whilst you shared that you were from Shanghai. 

“Big city girl, huh?” Ningning amusedly comments, sipping on her tea as you roll your eyes, “yeah… But I'm not rich or anything before you ask.”

The blonde feigns rejection as she snaps her fingers, “damn. I was gonna ask you to buy drinks next time we head to the bars, I think you owe me. ” She smiles at you, and it's warm.

You liked this. You liked how easy it was to talk to her. It was never this easy before.

Soon enough you had ended up on Ningning’s couch, browsing through movies aimlessly as the hefty meal threatened to send you into a food coma. The blonde lay comfortably in your arms underneath a blanket, her eyes occasionally fluttering shut as you continued to search for something to watch.

“Hmm, what about… Velocipastor?” The name completely throws you off guard, prompting you to click on it, skimming over the description as you feel the vibration of Ninging lazily humming beneath you. 

“Oh that movie is really good, trust me.”

“... Really? Are you sure, Ning?”

“Yeah yeah…” Her eyes were already shut as she spoke, nuzzling in closer to you as you chuckle, putting on the movie as you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer. 

Honestly, the movie seemed to be an excuse for the girl to be physically close to you– maybe get a nap in? You weren’t even sure if she was watching the movie at this point. Still, maybe it was for the best. Velocipastor was definitely not well funded within its production, that much could be seen. Plus, you couldn't complain about having a cute girl in your arms.

“Does your head still hurt?”

Ningning’s soft voice rings out, startling you. Honestly, you were getting pretty invested in the film, you had thought she already fell asleep.

“Mmm, a little. I don’t think your hangover cure worked.”

“Oh, the dumplings weren’t the cure.”

Your head cocks to the side as you tear your gaze away from the tv screen, looking down at the girl nestled on your chest as she looks back up at you. There was that all too familiar glint in her eyes again.

“Then what is?”

A mischievous grin curls on her lips before she leans in, connecting her lips with yours. Still a bit sluggish from the night before alongside a hefty meal, her kissing was a bit sloppy, but it was soft. Much softer than before.

You feel yourself almost immediately sigh into the kiss, and you would have found it embarrassing if she didnt guide her hand up your chest, to your neck, and into your hair, soon deepening the kiss. 

Not expecting things to escalate so soon, you couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as your hands landed on her hips, nails digging into her sides desperately as she laughs against your lips, pulling back. 

“You’re really cute, y’know?” She purrs, using her hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and you can see the hint of pink spread across her lips as she smiles, drinking in the sight of you.

Before you even have a chance to respond, Ningning tackles your jawline, trailing kisses down your face and onto your neck. You try to respond, but when she starts to nip the side of your neck, the words you wanted to say somehow managed to melt into complete mush.

“Mmhmmhgh…” 

The sound that escapes your lips allows you the chance to actually feel embarrassed, and you slam a hand over your lips, looking away from Ninging. Your response elicits another laugh from the blonde, and you swear you could listen to the sound forever. 

Her symphony soon quiets though, and Ningning looks you straight in the eye, her gaze softening as she opens her mouth, struggling to find the right words to say.

“Look, I know we just met…” she trails off for a moment, almost a bit shy to continue, “but if you want to give me a chance and see where this goes, I promise I’ll treat you so well.” 

Her eyes are filled with genuine desire for you, and you couldn’t help but feel… Isolated? Targetted? For the first time you feel like you’re seen, and you don’t know what to do about it.

She presses on, “I’d really like to see you again, and I know you’re going through a lot right now but I want to be there with you every step of the way. I want to see where this takes us.”

“I want you, y/n.”

Your face heats up instantaneously, and you swear your eyes were threatening to bulge out of your skull right then and there. You look at her in silence as you struggle to find your words, and after a few seconds you finally croak out,

“I… I want to see where this takes us too, Ningning.”

Her eyes brighten at your response, and she beams, pulling you into a tight hug on the couch before interlocking her lips with yours once again. You giggle into the kiss, and throw the blanket over the two of you as the movie on the tv buzzed on. For the first time, you found someone warm enough for you.

[cordeliawhohung]

Hiii! I've just binged mafia Price again, as one would, and now I desperately wanna know their first time together 😍 Was it after dating some time, ot much longer or maybe right away? How did they felt? Nervous I bet, but what was anticipation like? Did he make it a planned occasion, or was it casual? Was it quick rough, or slow and sensual, or something else? Like 🤯🤯🤯 My mind's gonna blow thinking about all these. Give this girl some insight, pretty please 👉🏻👈🏻

ugh i answered an ask a few weeks ago that was sort of similar to this but about them dating and i was trying to find it to link with this post but alas, tumblr search is dog water lmfao. anyway it's been a bit since i've written something proper for him so enjoy a drabble to answer your question (:

mafia!141 masterlist

cw: alcohol, smut, mutually possessive sex, (maybe slight technical dub-con due to the alcohol but both parties are awake and aware i'm just putting this here just in case)

When John got home, he found you in the kitchen.

Quiet music hummed through the speaker on your phone as you worked on serving two big plates of food like you had predicted his arrival. You greeted him with a grin as you gestured to the food in front of you on the island, proud of your work. Its fragrant aroma was mouth watering, almost to the point he found it difficult to think about anything other than eating. Your smile was contagious and John found himself chuckling as he approached the other side of the island.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Dinner, of course," you replied.

John scoffed slightly at his rather poorly worded question and your cheeky response. "Alright, well what's the occasion?"

"No occasion," you said. "You've been at work all day, and I felt like cooking, so..." You paused to pick up one of the plates and held it out for him to take. "Dinner!"

In the last few months that you had been staying with him, you had cooked plenty of times, but never anything quite like that. A part of you felt a little guilty for not being able to show your appreciation as much as you wanted to, for taking you in and keeping a roof over your head, but more often than not he wouldn't allow it. There were few chores he would allow you to do as a guest in his home, and if you wanted to cook or clean for him, you often had to do it under his nose when he wasn't home.

And still, instead of telling you how you didn't have to do all that, how you didn't have to waste your evening cooking a lavish meal, he took it without complaint and allowed you to lead him into the living room. That evening was full of good food, a very expensive wine that you attempted to convince John not to open but he did anyway, and an old slasher film that was more humorous than it was unsettling.

Something was different about that night. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was something else, but you seemed to smile and laugh more than you had for the last few weeks. And you were beautiful. The way the dim glow of the TV illuminated your face as you took a sip of wine, the way you laughed and pointed at the screen when one of the characters died; you were perfect.

"Thank you. For taking care of me," you suddenly spoke up.

John had stared at you for so long he didn't even realize that the movie was over, but you didn't seem to mind his unwavering gaze. Yet he was a bit confused by your sudden comment. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the truth, but he felt like he didn't deserve it.

"Your gratitude is wasted on someone like me," he muttered, eyes refusing to leave your face.

"What makes you say that?" you asked.

"I'm not a good man."

"I know."

While it wasn't the answer he expected, John was glad you knew that much about him at least. He gave you a breathy laugh as he looked down at the remaining wine left in his glass. The dark red liquid swirled around as he leaned forward to place it on the coffee table.

"How do you know?" he questioned, hoping you would indulge him.

"I've always known," you said as if it was obvious. "If you were a good man, you'd be dead by now. Good men don't live long in your line of work."

"So you've known I'm a bad man this whole time?"

The expression on your face contorted and it wasn't long before your hand rested on his arm. He didn't dare look down to where your fingers brushed against his skin because he feared you would retract if he did, like someone who didn't want to get bitten by a dog.

"You're not a bad man," you retorted as if the very thought had offended you.

"How do you know?" John challenged.

"Because you are kind."

In that moment, John swore he had always known you, and maybe he did. He had known you as the chief's daughter when he was a child. He had known you and your laughter as you sat next to him in maths as a teen. You had always been there, lingering in the back of his mind, finding him when he least expected it.

So when you leaned into him, he didn't stop you. And he didn't stop you when your hands rested on his chest, or when your lips pressed against his. In fact, he savored every moment of it. Your skin on his, your teeth sinking into his flesh; it all felt so familiar like your body was the only one he had ever held that way.

It all happened so fast he felt dizzy, but all John knew was that when he saw you laid out naked on his bed there was nothing in the world that would ever take you from him. He couldn't stop the way his lips were drawn to your chest where he kissed a gentle trail between your breasts and down to your navel. He couldn't stop the way his mouth latched onto your cunt like it was the only sustenance he would need for the rest of his life.

And it was the most love you had felt in your entire life. The way he gently pawed at your body not in greed, but because he needed you to be closer, to feel every inch of you. Every moan that left your lips was carefully fished for, and if one thing didn't work he would try another. The way he crooked his fingers inside of you and swiped his tongue over your clit was all done so carefully, only aiming to please you.

When he eventually pulled away from you, got you so worked up that your legs quaked, you wanted to return the favor. Wanted to thank him for taking you in, for treating you as well as he had, but when you tried to sit up his hand firmly kept you pinned against the mattress. He reminded you that you were under his roof. You were his to take care of.

He continued to remind you of that fact with every pump of his cock inside of you. Each thrust had you repeating his words back to him with pitched moans, how he would take care of you, how good he was to you, how you were his to take care of, you were his, you were his. By the time he emptied himself into you with a heavy grunt and a needy kiss, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

After that night, you only slept in his bed, and eventually it wasn't just his bed, but yours too. It happened slowly, and all at once, that he had become yours and you had become his, and yet at the same time, it was like it was never any other way to begin with.

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader/ .11 [Slight Nsfw]

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, ec project with Nickolas the transfer student, drunk sukuna shows up at the dorm(!?), a small makeout session, some sexual touching and mentions of grinding/humping at readers thighs, caring for this stressed out man-slut, ooc sukuna.

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 5.036k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n: hey guys! sorry for the delay ^^ i've been wanting to get some chapters drafted before posting them! ty sm for the patience i hope u enjoy and r ready for the upcoming drama between sukuna and y/n!

a/n 2: so so sooooo sorry for being three days later after saying i'd be posting right away!!>< I was with family and the wifi was being iffy the last few days. I couldn't access many of my socials and much less work on the final draft of the chapter!! i powered thro until i was satified and it's finally here! i hope you enjoy!!

chapter/idea cred to: @misslauravillanueva i needed to give credit for the help! i was struggling on what to do!><

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

“Achoo!”

“Ah, are you alright?” Geto’s cool tone echoed from the kitchen, his brow raised with a curious expression written on his face. “Coming down with something? I told you to relax from studying for a while–”

“It’s not that!” You huff, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ”I just sneezed. I don’t know why though..”

“Okay, relax. I’m not gonna get upset.”

With a pout, you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Bowl of mac and cheese with little hot dogs in hand and a Coke on the coffee table. Eyes returning back to the TV screen and watching the current crime show playing, listening to the crimes that the murderer committed as he was handed a death sentence. 

Sometimes, when I let my mind wander to Sukuna.. It feels like that.

The idea that he’s now stuck on your mind despite all the anger he had towards you. The almost strange obsession and addiction to the idea of him. While you’ve been repetitively trying to control these new emotions and thoughts, you couldn’t help it. Seeing Sukuna that day in Ec class all those days ago. Having to tutor him. Even dealing with his weird smirks and teasing.

..That kiss too..

“Your face is doing that thing again, Y/n,” Geto’s voice chirped out of nowhere, causing you to jolt in your spot. “So jumpy over a guy? You know therapy exists, right?”

Returning a rather poorly chosen burn, Geto stood from his spot on the couch and waved a hand at you. Grabbing his things and his shoes from the carpet near the door, he sent you another telling look.

“If you're this upset, just ask what's up. Seriously, seeing you get stressed over this is kinda.. sad.”

There was a stabbing pain in your chest. You knew.

“Good night to you too, Suguru,” You hum, leaning on your fist as the door closed with a click. Leaving you alone in the dormitory for a few moments.

Your thoughts clouding your headspace until you decided to go to bed. Unable to understand this dreadful lil thing people called love, unable to understand why Sukuna Ryomen had crawled his way into your heart just by being an ass.

Tomorrow is another day.. Right?

. . .

“Today we'll be picking partners for class projects!”

Eh?? Ehhhhh????

You blinked a few times at the announcement, looking down towards Toji as students began to groan and complain a little. Quickly these were silenced as Toji lifted a stack of papers and chuckled deeply in his husky voice.

“It's not my problem, just get them done. You have two weeks to do it, so get your partners. The class is uneven so be ready for one of y'all's groups to have an extra person. It's a self-pick topic type of thing so start discussing today or tomorrow your topic and go with it!”

Toji tapped the papers on his desk and sat, letting his tie loose as he started relaxing for the rest of the period.

“If you need suggestions for your topic, there's a list in here along with your presentation requirements. I expect all names and correct citations with these as well.”

You let out a small groan and rub your temple. Not only were you stressed, now you had to deal with this? Extra shifts at work couldn't save you from this type of annoyance. It's not that you hated group projects, it's just a small tick when half of them throw the work onto you.

Pros and cons. Pros– none. Cons– work was usually tossed onto you.

You stood from your desk and began making your way down the steps to grab a paper. A strange chill ran up your spine as you passed Sukuna’s. Sparing a glance over, your cheeks warmed almost immediately.

Some bits of hair were pinned back and a pen rested on an ear. His shirt had a few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black pants tight enough to have made a bakery spawn on the seat he sat upon. He looked really handsome, daring to battle even Toji’s good looks, and it was getting to you. 

What hit the nail in the coffin is when he just so happened to catch you ogling with your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth. His eyes sharpened at your expression as a smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

An almost playful yet teasing smile you weren't used to seeing on his face caught you off guard. It made your face hot, and your shame grow a few beats in that moment.

“Stop creeping” was basically what his face was saying.

Letting out a strained cough, you covered your face and made your way back up to your desk. Positive that his eyes had followed you all the way up the stairs before you sat in your spot. Hiding behind the paper and some random book you grabbed from your bag.

You couldn't be more obvious, could you?

While fellow students started to shift in their seats and partner up with friends and just random buddies from in the room, Sukuna was swarmed with a small audience of girls as he stood from his seat to also fetch a paper. The guys that sat around him gave him annoyed side-eyes and snorts as he absorbed the attention from all the women in the room. 

“Sukuna, do you wanna partner with me?” One asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and letting the blush on her cheeks show.

“Me too, we could all do it together!” Another spoke up, poking her button nose into their conversation. Her bright green eyes staring up at Sukuna with a needy gleam.

It makes you confused to an extent, making you press your brows together as you look to the side. Sukuna probably thought that's what you looked like every time you saw him. It makes your heart ache and head throb, another grand headache to your already upsetting day.

Just let your mind be normal for once in your life.

You begin to gather your things and part from the room, the hustle and bustle of the classroom quietly fading into the background. Letting out a relaxed sigh as the sight of your bed creeped into the corners of your mind– oh, how you wished to be relaxing in bed with your favorite stuffy.

“Hello, miss? Would you like to be my partner for the project?” A voice suddenly called from behind you, somewhat echoing throughout the quiet hallways. It startled you since you didn’t expect anyone to follow you out of the classroom asking such a thing, it piqued your interest.

Lifting your head, you come face to face with someone you didn’t know.

His dark hair was up in a bun with his undercut showing behind his pierced ears, a kind smile flashing behind yet another piercing on his lip. Tanned skin that seemed to glow like it was pampered with the best beauty products around, not a scar or pimple in sight. Cute dimples at the corners of his lips adding to his boyish charm while his honey eyes gleamed at you. It reminded you of Yuji in a sense, but this was not Yuji.

You’ve never seen this guy before– a really cute one at that.

“Hello,” you say, momentarily stunned at the stranger, letting your hand weakly wave. “Uhm, partner?”

There was an adorable chuckle that furthered your stunned silence before you heard a response. “Yes, I saw you walk out here alone and thought you might need one.”

You take in a deep breath, regaining your composure quickly and patting yourself down. “Ah, right. I actually don’t like having a partner, my past experiences have led me to conclude that they’re not the best option for a project. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can handle one on my own.”

“I can see why,” He starts, looking back at the classroom with the still clamoring students before returning his attention to you. “That horde in there was after one guy, they don’t care about this project. I was actually about to do the same as you when I saw my choices were so low.”

Rubbing a big calloused hand over his nape, the strangers’ almond eyes looked from the empty halls and to you, his smile sheepish. “Please? Don’t make me beg now.”

There was a small silence between you and the stranger as you considered walking off and letting him go with his original plan before the Economics class erupted with whines as Sukuna and a girl walked from inside. The color left your cheeks, seeing the girl’s arm wrapped tightly around Sukuna’s. Looking as if he was protecting her from the growing crowd of the class, engaging in an active conversation as they walked on by.

Your heart sank sharply, seeing Sukuna letting someone else into his circle. He used to be so cold, so annoyed with people when he was younger. Only letting you really hold him that close, giving you nuzzles of appreciation since he didn’t like to say it aloud.

Now, he gives you the cold shoulder and holds others that aren’t you close.

Without letting your head finish its last thought and your eyes still trained on the back of Sukuna’s head, you gave a nod and looked back at the stranger. “Sure. I’m Y/n L/n, by the way.”

“Really? That’s great!” He smiled, the warmth of his company lightening your mood sufficiently more than it was a few moments ago. “My name’s Nickolas Alveres, it’s nice to meet you, L/n.”

The both of you share a smile for a second before Nickolas nods down the hall, motioning for the both of you to head to your next classes. He doesn’t wait for you to join him, but you do anyway. Trying to make small talk with him as you try to get to know your partner, letting the smile on your lips stick.

While you wore a smile, someone else had a frown. A deep scowl, if you will. You didn’t feel it, but Sukuna’s partner saw it.

She raised a brow, cheeks tinted a slight color as she cast her gaze in the same direction. Seeing you close to another man, only escalating the befuddlement.

“What’s wrong, Sukuna?”

A disgruntled look was plastered all over said man’s face, his frown so prominent it was a waste of time to even attempt to hide it. A chasm of wrinkles forming on his forehead as his brows pressed together at the sight before him. Watching the way you and some kid walked side by side with a smile on your face, not a care in the world.

When did you get so chummy?

“It’s nothing.. Let’s go, Haru,” He said, not sparing a second to look back at you. With a huff, he pulled his work partner, Haru, with him to the nearby library to find a good subject for this project.

It’s what he wanted anyways.. right?

. . .

“Wait, wait.. He punched Gojo in the face?!” Nickolas laughed, holding his cup up to his lips quickly to cover his giggles and chuckles. His nose crinkled up as they continued despite his obvious resistance. “He must’ve been drunk too to get so defensive!! I thought he was just a jerk most of the time.”

“Usually he is,” You start, crossing your legs under the coffee table. Looking over some of the notebooks the both of you had sprawled out onto the wood to look for any good topics to talk about in the presentation. Quickly, you scribbled out one, taking a sip from your cup and looking back up to Nickolas. “Recently though, he’s been alright. Not as mean as he used to be, but not one-hundred percent rude and annoying.”

A calm silence filled the air as Nickolas rested his work in his lap, taking a moment to look from them to you. “Speaking of, how long have you known this guy? You talk about him like he’s an old friend.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards for a short second before you let your face relax. “He was. Not really interested in joining forces again recently.”

Nickolas nodded his head in understanding, eyes glazing over somewhat on what response to give. Seeing that the idea of this guy somehow hurt you, it got him concerned. Why bother letting him get to you so deeply if this is the result? It doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, Y/n,” He mustered after a short silence, placing his cup on the coffee table and letting his ring tap against the plastic. “If he’s still letting you be this close, even helping you care for a friend, that’s gotta be something.”

You nod numbly, knowing the obvious has been said too many times. Talk to him, ask him how he’s doing about the relationship, what does he want from you? The same three things that you always wanted to say when you were with him, but how. Other than tutoring, other than being near each other in class, you and Sukuna spent little to no time together.

All you remember about him is that he was the tough kid in school with home problems that liked to play tag and hide and seek. That he scared you with bugs and frogs while at the lake or near the Willow tree. The fond memories you shared with him couldn’t be the only factor that you had to use to judge what you wanted, you had to be around him more.

How was going to be the hardest puzzle to solve.

“Oh well,” Nickolas yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s about time i get headed to my dorm. I have an early class tomorrow. I’ll leave you my number so that we can plan meetings for the project!”

Jokes and laughter filled the room as you and your partner exchanged information when there was a loud commotion at the door. You glanced from Nickolas to the dorm door and let out a light hearted chuckle, waving your hands next to your head.

“Ah, I’ll go get that! Gather your things, okay?”

Nickolas nodded and turned to his open binder and mess of notebook paper splayed on the coffee table, humming to himself as you rushed over to the front door. Hair stood at attention when you opened that door, seeing a messed up man laying on the hallway floor. A big wine bottle squeezed tightly in his right hand, the other placed next to his head on the floor.

His voice came out in gentle hums of some random rock song, lyrics jumping out from his mouth every second or so in a drunken daze. His fluffy hair was messy and almost unrecognizable until you realized who it was.

It was Sukuna.

“Wh.. What are you doing here?” You shout, shocked at his arrival, but there was not really a response. Only his hand raising to wave his finger around to the hum of his song. “Sukuna, answer me!!”

“..rather be.. Than lonely..”

Letting out a sigh, you look back at Nickolas and see his confused face staring at the gap between you and the door down at Sukuna. He stood there ready to go with his bag strap on his shoulder and keys in hand, giving you quick glances for some semblance of an answer. You give a small shrug, looking back to the immobile man on the ground.

Gently, you kick at one of his legs to try and get something out of him. “Sukuna, get up!”

Not a single thing, just a grunt and a tussle before your eyes finally connect with glazed ones. Maroon pools that were foggy beyond belief, not having a thought behind them. Nickolas tilts his head to the side and shakes it, giving you a pat on the arm and a sheepish smile.

“I'll get out of your hair, Y/n. Good luck!”

You step out of the man’s way, looking down at the disgruntled Sukuna and give a weak chuckle. Parting ways with Nickolas for the evening and kneeling down to Sukuna and shaking his shoulder. “Sukuna, you’ll get sick, get up.”

“..Doesn’t matter,” Sukuna mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. “F’m sick, I’ll just be sick..”

“It does matter, now get up.”

You did your best to pull Sukuna up by his arm and into a sitting position, hooking the limp appendage over your shoulder and lifting him up onto his feet. It was a struggle since Sukuna was so heavy, but you managed. The stench of alcohol reeked from his breath and shirt, mixes of dirt and some stains that you didn’t feel the need to ask where they came from. 

Stumbling into your dormitory you freed the near empty beer bottle from Sukuna’s grasp and pulled the door close. He wasn’t giving much fight– probably due to the amount he drank– and just leaned his weight onto you. Mumbling to himself about things you weren’t going to pressure him into answering. Still, it made you wonder.

What the hell drove him to come to my place?

Surely, he wouldn’t mind answering that.

With a huff to your lips you plopped Sukuna’s heavy ass onto the couch and folded your arms. The beer bottle in your hand swirling around as you rotate your wrist ever so slightly, brow raising at Sukuna’s nearly asleep form. It was odd to see the big, strong and mean Sukuna Ryomen on his last leg from intoxication. 

Despite this, you found it cute.

“I’ll go get you some water and maybe a change of clothes,” You announce, tilting your head to see if that gauges a reaction. Sadly there was nothing but a huff and some finger taps on the couch’s cushions. Letting your arms fall to your side, you grunt and place the beer on the table. “Whatever, I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and some extra sheets from your bedroom before making your way back into the living room to Sukuna. A fresh set of clothing was provided, thanks to Geto’s many late night bang sessions with Shoko, and some cooling pads were placed next to Sukuna on the couch. He didn’t do much but glance at the items, turning his face away in– what you assumed– was a quiet protest.

Sukuna never acted this petty and spoiled before. What’s gotten into him?

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” Gently, you press your hands to his chest, earning a reaffirming nod and proceeding to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. 

It was strange to be in this position. On your knees, undressing the man you’ve pinned for for so long, only to be seeing this messy and unkempt side you didn’t like to imagine him being. The feelings in your chest that you wanted to put away were making your heart race once more, every glance you got to see from the mess you called Sukuna.

His hair made him resemble his brother more than anything else now, hanging over his sweaty forehead and tattoo. Arms hanging loosely at his sides, man spreading for all of the world to see. Shamefully, you enjoyed the calm attention. Even though it was unsightly, you liked getting to touch all over Sukuna’s body.

“There,” You mumble to yourself, having officially released Sukuna from his shirt. “N-Now, onto your..”

Trailing off, you look down at Sukuna’s pants. Swallowing thickly at the idea of pulling off his trousers, you took a deep breath. I’m never going to live this shame down!

Gently, you began to undo his belt. You face burning ever more as the air began to tense, wishing that anyone but you would be this bashful over something so silly. Still, regret hit you harder than the embarrassment or shame ever could.

Sukuna was watching you. Watching your hands slip the belt loose, pulling his button undone and pulling at his waistband. You tugged, unable to yank them down and free his lower half.

“Sukuna.. Can you lift your hips?” You ask in a soft voice, startled by the quick response. But what was it really, he was watching your every move. You felt like you were being examined in some office and not helping Sukuna undress. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Making haste of the situation, you pulled down the fabric of his trousers and grabbed the loose shorts you had found from earlier. Ignoring all thoughts of Sukuna and how perfect his legs looked, the thick black hands of his tattoos on the fat of his thigh. The way the bulge in his briefs was much a cause for distraction, even denying that it twitched once freed from it’s confines.

Yep, never happened.

“There, all better,” You sigh, satisfied. “Now that your ready for bed, I’m going to do the same.”

It took a few minutes, but you had completely reclothed Sukuna and he now looked more sleepy and ready for bed rather than drunk off his ass and about to black out on the couch. You had struggled to even get him to take a sip of water and sober up, but to no avail. You figured you’d have to try again tomorrow morning and explain the situation once he woke up in a confused fit.

Getting him comfortable on the couch too was another ordeal you didn’t think you’d go through, but you did. Tucking in the large male until he was all cozy and warm, safely resting his head on one of your spare pillows.

“I’ll see ya in the morning, Ryo,” You mumble, letting your mind wander for a moment and tracing the outline of one of his tattoos on his bicep. Feeling the muscle twitch under your touch momentarily.

“Mgh,” Sukuna muffled out, cheeks warm to the touch.

Letting out another sigh, you stand from your spot next to the couch. Only to be pulled back towards the culprit at hand, falling ass first next to his lap. Sukuna didn’t make a sound, just grasped onto your hips and pulled you in for a hug. His arms anchored around your lower stomach, pressing into the arch of your spine and forcing you to press against him as well.

His nose was pressed into the crook of your shoulder, but you continued to crusade for answers from the sudden affection. “AGH! Sukuna, that was highly uncalled for!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Answer me, dammit–!!”

“Who was that guy?”

You flinch, caught off guard. The clarity and conviction in Sukuna’s voice was strange, seeing as he had been stumbling and leaning into you for the last few moments. “Uhm, my Economics partner Nickolas. It shouldn’t matter, you need to sleep!”

“I don’t need sleep,” Sukuna grunts out, lifting himself off of the couch and trapping you underneath him. Using his big arms like a cage, eyes locking you in place with a vice on your heart. “What was he doin’ hanging here?”

“Sukuna, this is childish,” You start, ready to defend yourself for a confrontation. “He’s my class partner, you shouldn’t be upset over it.”

Wait.. why was he upset?

Previously, he had never seemed to give a flying fuck what you did or whom you did it with. What’s with the sudden change of heart? It made yours ache at the possibilities, wondering what could it be that made him so hostile all of the sudden over Nickolas.

“I barely know him anyways..”

“And you let him sit here on this couch?”

There was a small slap sound as skin met skin, Sukuna’s palm and fingers grasping your chin and cheeks. A gentle but firm squeeze sent shivers down your spine, your hand reaching up to try and pull Sukuna’s off but to no avail. His eyes scanned your face for anything, a sign.

Something. Anything that would make this ache in his chest stop.

“What is he to you, huh?” His voice came out rough, deep. Intimidating. 

It was scary, but a shudder was sent up your spine. A lustful and unneeded shudder, one that sent ideas to your brain. That made your mind wander, but you held them back. 

Even as Sukuna’s lips captured yours, as his teeth grazed and nibbled at your lower lip, your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his pink locks. You had to deny, because the Sukuna that was here wasn’t really him. It was a drunk and dissociated version of him, a side that you normally didn’t see. 

A side that he probably didn’t like showing.

“Did you let him do this, mh?” Sukuna muttered, pulling away from your mouth. A string of saliva connecting the both of you for a moment as your lungs fought for breath. Chest rising and falling heavily, your hands hold onto Sukuna’s arms, trying to find something to stabilize yourself in this mess of kisses.

“N-No, we just.. Talked about class–”

“Talked? About class? Me? You?”

Sukuna retreated his touch from your face and instead placed them on your thighs. Laying beside you on the couch, keeping you trapped against his chest and making sure to dress the blankets over you.

“Sukuna, seriously, this isn’t funny anymore,” You whimper, covering your face. How could you push this away? You’ve wanted nothing but to be closer to him, haven’t you?

Desired, pleaded. You wanted everything.. But this wasn’t the way.

Feeling Sukuna’s hands wrap around your waist, having his hot breath on your neck and shoulder as he rutted his hips against the fat of your ass. You felt utterly guilty, like trash. Wanting to crawl away from Sukuna and save him the little grace he had, to avoid giving him something to wake up and regret tomorrow.

“Y/n.. look at me.. Look at what you’ve done,” The man in question ordered, hooking your top leg over his elbow. Letting the bulge in his pants grow more and more, his voice becoming ragged and deep as he got harder and harder. “You’re making a mess of me, can’t you tell?”

You nod, wanting to pull away and sleep in your bed. But the desires in you only wanted you to fall deeper. The strings of your heart being plucked as Sukuna’s lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. Marking and sucking, lewd sucking sounds erupting from his lips as he made harsh hickeys form on the skin.

Mewl after moan escaped you, your pussy wet and slick under the confines of your panties and pajama bottoms. Sukuna could tell, releasing your leg from his hold and slowing his hips for a moment until his hand migrated to your front.

Grinding the flat surface of his palm against your clothed cunt, whispering naughty words into your ear that you had to drown out. Even if the wants in your belly wished for Sukuna to be there, to fill up your insides and make a mess. To be closer than he’s ever let you been for the last month or so, you had to stop this.

And you did, with much regret.

“Sukuna, stop,” You whimper, pulling Sukuna’s hand away from your body. Breaths coming out in baited huffs, you sat up. Not taking a moment to let yourself get lured back in, feeling Sukuna’s hand find your waist again as you resisted further.

“Stop what?” He mutters, annoyance in his voice. Laced with an emotion you wished to unhear. “Didn’t you want this too?”

“Not like this.” Cold, respectful. You had to be this way, to give Sukuna another chance. Letting him have his way now in such a drunken state, you wouldn’t be able to recover a good relationship. “If I was like anyone else, you’d be taken advantage of.”

Sukuna’s touch softened, his glazed eyes clearing for a moment as he looked at the back of your head. Seeing a shimmer of something on your cheek, his fingers trembled. He desired to reach up, to brush those tears away. It was against his very nature, his very being.

He didn’t like the idea of being all cuddly and cozy, being soft and vulnerable with someone. The idea of it made his stomach churn and made the urge to vomit impending. 

But, with you. Seeing those tears form, for his sake. He felt irritated with himself. He caused it. Him.

“I’m going to bed now,” You say, voice shaken up. “Get some water, sleep.”

You stood from your place on the sofa and walked over to the small hallway, entering your bedroom and letting out a shuddering exhale. A weight was now firmly sitting on your chest. It ached, it hurt, it burned.

Everything that pain felt like was exploding in your chest. Reaching up a hand to try and comfort yourself wasn’t worth the effort either as you slid down the wood of your bedroom door. Curling into a feeble position as the tears fell from your eyes, finally free after holding them the whole time.

What you wished you could do about the man on your couch.

. . .

a/n: y'all i literally have a crippling addiction to crime videos and all that shit it's just so interesting for no reason oml (crying inside) also sorry for the month long pause (i say sorry too much) i was creating new characters and working on ideas for the next few chapters!

Chapter Song Them: — Granite - Sleep Token (Lyrics)

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd , @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalfleshlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleebloomed, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir, @domainofmarie, @the-moongoddess, @dark-n-dirty-duchess, @agentdedf1sh, @sukunastoy, @lyn-soso, @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9, @heyitstacy, @lost-in-tokyo, @marksassybanana, @bozos-r-us , @p-3-4-c-h, @chaoticqueen33, @dxxny-loves-u, @l0tus-in-l0ve , @jiordeci, @opossum0-0, @gumisgirl, @mommasbigd, @heyitstacy, @misslauravillanueva, @fallenlostarchives, @infinitivesearch

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[hexedwinchester]

Early seasons of SPN are superior

so I'm re-watching Supernatural (I'm always re-watching SPN, don't mind me) and I realised why the early seasons are so freakin good whereas the laters ones are a complete mess...

Horror was the core theme of Supernatural (yes, I'm not discarding the brothers' drama, I'll get to it in a minute). These beautiful scare tactics that they employed were amazing: the crib mobile toy rotating, shadows moving out of the corner of the eyes, toys going off, subtle bloody Mary reflections in the mirror, creepy skulls dug from the ground, the ghosts flickering. Hell yea they nailed 'Scary just got sexy' with these.

Don't get me started on the background music. Whimsical music crescendo, building up the anticipation. The rock music blaring through the Impala. What happened to the cool ass music in the later seasons? They just played this weird, sad tune like someone's blowing raspberries to show grief and that's it!

Monster of the week theme and the lores/legends in early seasons were much, much better than S12's Foundry or the later season episode with bizarre tentacle porn thingy (you know which one I'm talking about). It just didn't feel the same. The stories were poorly written and even more poorly executed.

Early seasons used to be purely about Sam and Dean (as it should have been throughout) Them against the world, heaven and hell. No dumbass angel lurking in the background like a pathetic third wheel. No king of hell bitching about his sad childhood for two whole seasons. No Soccer mom half assing their way into hunting.

Foreshadowing was done so beautifully! Everytime I re-watch the early seasons I find a few bits that connects to something that happened initially in say S1-2. The parallels are done beautifully and writing is good, and I mean 'I wanna use this quote as a wallpaper' good.

The struggle for the boys was real. They had to do their own research, save their own asses, stitch their wounds, pop their dislocated shoulders back in the place. Later seasons? Bunker has answer to everything, angel healing wounds with a flash of light, Lucifer bringing Sam back from the dead without asking for anything (and no, taking him to Jack is not a good enough bargain), Jack healing wounds or whatever. Where is the damn struggle?! Where is the hero's journey?!

I miss the beautiful, colourful motel rooms that had its own personality. I HATE the bunker (yes I know a lot of people love it because Dean has a good shower, they have a home etc, etc) but no! Bunker is lame and boring and monotonous. There isn't a single thing I like about it. Gimme back my motel rooms with the sunburst mirror!

Story arc or lack thereof from S12 onwards. The main plot just got duller and duller from S12 onward and it felt like the writers got lazy and stopped putting efforts. There was no build up and the plot felt forced. The main arcs didn't feel exciting enough. BMoL and Kelly's pregnancy: the who and why? Jack: predictable. Other Micheal and Micheal Dean: meh, next! God as the big bad: interesting but I don't think they have it in them to execute this correctly.

Irrelevant/Unnecessary characters and their mini plots. S1-5 focuses purely on the brothers and that's what I'm here. I don't care how and why an idiot angel opened purgatory. It sounded more like a dull spin off plot than main story arc. I don't care about prophets and their lives (yeah Kevin is in Advance Placement, what am I to do with that?). I don't care about the different angel garrisons at war (again a plot for a lame spin off). I don't care about Crowley, his son or his relationship with Rowena. Tell me how this affects the boys. If it doesn't, please let's move on. Whatever was going on with Cole Trenton was pointless. I don't care about Mary and her hunting escapades with BMoL. I don't care about Kelly's pregnancy. The multi-universe and all characters they vomited back in the show with this. Not needed! Let Charlie, Gabriel and Bobby's memory rest in peace. Nick's killer storyline and wayward sisters. Enough said. Empty and the deal with Cas and Meg 2.0? Boring! Billy playing the bad cop, the whole death's library? Poorly executed and it turned into a bowl of cold spaghetti. In the end, the focus moved from the boys to useless characters and mini plots. Fuck that! Supernatural is about Sam and Dean and that's about it.

The direction. Later seasons lack the beauty of scenic shots of the landscape, close on up the boys' faces, the lights hitting their faces to show their beauty. Camera angles and slow panning shots. I miss the beauty that were the early seasons.

[marsplastic13]

'Complicated' (part 11) - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names)

Genre: modern AU, slow burn

word count: 7.1k

notes: wasn't sure if updating both of my fics on the same day or not but I looked around and there was no one to stop me, so here we are

@millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649 @luffysprincess @cryptidghostgirl @beekeepingageissome

@hufflepuff-16

After she left the next morning, Kaz found himself reluctantly returning to the rhythm of his everyday life. With a heavy sigh, he powered on his phone for the first time in nearly a week. Messages from Inej awaited him, reminders of a life he was still tethered to despite the tumultuous path he had chosen. His thumb scrolled through their conversations, tracing a history of promises, affection, and the mundane details of their lives intertwined. The ache in his chest was palpable as he revisited photos she had sent, words of longing and love that now felt like shards of broken promises.

Her harsh words echoed through his mind, but time had dulled their sharpness, rendering them less important and less vivid. He questioned the clarity of his memories—had Inej truly been that mad, or had he distorted her anger through the lens of his own guilt and frustration? The more he pondered, the more the lines blurred. Was he simply grasping for an excuse to run to Y/n, to justify his actions and calm his conscience?

He remembered the night of the argument with Inej, her eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. Her words had cut deep, but now, in retrospect, he wondered if he had overemphasized their severity. Did she genuinely believe the things she had hurled at him, or were they borne from a moment of vulnerability? His own response had been less than ideal, driven by a volatile cocktail of defensiveness and shame.

Scrolling through her messages, every promise he had made to Inej, every "I miss you" and "I love you", felt like they were written in sand, vulnerable to the tide of his shifting emotions. The pictures she had sent him from her travels, the little reminders that she was thinking of him—these were the threads of a relationship that he was now considering severing. He could almost feel her presence as he scrolled through their chat, each one a testament to their love, yet each one now weighed with the burden of his doubts.

His mind kept circling back to Y/n. Was she a genuine new beginning, or a convenient escape? The more he considered it, the less clear the answer became. He knew he was drawn to her, irresistibly so, but was it fair to put the blame for his actions solely on his feelings for her? 

Kaz had to admit to himself that perhaps he had been searching for an out, a way to justify moving on without fully confronting the mistakes he had made with Inej. He was caught in a web of his own making, unsure which strands were real and which were merely illusions. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that no matter how much he tried to rationalize his choices, the underlying truth was inescapable: he had betrayed Inej's trust, and there was no simple way to reconcile that with his feelings for Y/n.

He shook his head, pushing these thoughts to the side as he refocused on the task at hand: ensuring the Crow Club was still standing and that his boss didn’t fire him. He could talk to Inej another time.

But 'another time' kept getting delayed, and Kaz soon found himself immersed in a new routine with Y/n, their days blending together in a haze of new comfort and desire.

***

One particularly difficult day, after a grueling meeting that had gone poorly, Kaz found himself in his car, trying to shake off the frustration. He leaned back, loosening his tie.

He checked his phone, hoping for a distraction. ‘Do you need me to pick you up at the gym?’ he texted Y/n, she usually got out around that time.

She replied with a picture of herself in bed and the message, ‘Got my period.’

Kaz frowned, dialing her number while starting the car. "What?" she asked.

"I thought you used birth control to skip your period," he said, confused.

"Yeah, didn’t have one in years. A client asked me to—” her voice trailed off, “You know what? It’s gross. I’ll spare you the details.”

Kaz hummed in acknowledgment, relieved. "Thanks, love. Do you want to do something?"

"Cry," she replied, annoyance evident in her voice. "Are you coming here?"

"Already on my way," he said without hesitation.

***

One evening, Kaz was getting ready to head out, meticulously fixing his hair in the mirror, when two messages popped up on his phone, derailing his focus. His stomach sank as he read them.

‘Kaz, can you stop avoiding me, please? I leave in two days,’ read the message from Inej.

‘Sorry baby, something came up. I can’t make it tonight,’ from Y/n.

It felt like the planets had aligned to royally screw him over. Kaz’s heart raced with the realization that he couldn't avoid the confrontation any longer. Inej was right; they couldn't drag this situation out any more. Torn between frustration and guilt, he left Y/n on read, knowing it was petty and immature, but unable to help himself. He quickly responded to Inej, telling her he was free right then. Now or never, he thought.

Before Inej arrived, Kaz hurriedly tried to erase any signs of Y/n’s increasingly constant presence. He felt a pang of guilt as he hid a vape she had left on the coffee table and straightened up the bathroom, removing her toiletries from the sink.

Half an hour later, a knock on the door announced Inej’s arrival. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, her smile tentative. They sat on the couch, the atmosphere between them thick with tension and unspoken words.

“So, how have you been? Jesper told me you were in Lij last week,” Inej started cheerfully, attempting to break the ice.

Lies and more lies, Kaz thought bitterly. “Yeah, everything’s good. What about you?” he replied, forcing calm into his voice.

“Good, good,” Inej said, glancing around the room. “Look, Kaz, I’m sorry for what I said.”

“So you don’t think that?” Kaz asked, his tone sharp.

Inej sighed, reaching for his hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be intimate with someone again, and I thought our issues matched, yeah. I’m sorry if it came out harsher than I intended.”

Kaz scoffed, his anger bubbling up. “You knew I always wanted to be better. You thought I would never be able to do it.”

“I… I thought that you would overcome some things, like holding hands or kissing, but no, I never thought you would ever want to try to go further,” she admitted.

“What do you think we should do?” he asked, looking directly at her.

“What do you mean?” she seemed genuinely surprised.

“About us,” he clarified.

Inej’s eyes widened, confusion and fear crossing her face. “Are you… are you breaking up with me, Kaz?”

He sighed heavily, feeling his strength and resolve to end things leaving him. “I don’t know, Nej, you hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, brushing her thumb on his palm, the gesture intimate yet distant.

“What if we want different things?” he asked, the unspoken ‘What if I cheated on you?’ hanging in the air between them.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, moving closer to him.

Kaz’s mind raced. Could they really figure it out? Was it fair to Inej to try when his heart was increasingly entangled with Y/n? He thought about the nights spent with Y/n, the way she made him feel alive and understood in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time. He thought about how Y/n made him forget his own hesitations and fears, and how he had started to rely on her presence as a balm for his troubled mind.

But he also remembered the history he shared with Inej, the bond forged in shared struggles and victories. Could he really throw that away? Was his relationship with Y/n built on a solid foundation, or was it simply an escape from his own failures and insecurities?

As Inej moved closer, he felt a pang of guilt. Here was a woman who had stood by him through thick and thin, who knew his darkest secrets and still chose to stay. 

He nodded, surrendering at her. 

Kaz woke up to an empty bed and a note from Inej, saying she had gone to the coffee shop nearby for breakfast. He stretched, feeling the stiffness in his muscles ease as he sat up. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. He was just starting to wake up when the door opened, and Inej walked in, balancing two cups and a bag of pastries.

“You have no idea who I just ran into,” Inej said as she entered, her voice filled with curiosity and amusement.

“Who?” Kaz asked, taking his coffee from her and hiding behind the cup.

“Y/N! Your boss's ex-girlfriend,” she clarified, as if he could have forgotten who she was.

“No way,” he responded, trying to keep his tone neutral as he sipped his coffee.

“Yeah,” Inej continued, her tone light and conversational. “She’s always been a bit weird. When I spotted her, she was asking the waiter to write something like ‘sorry for yesterday night’ on the cup.”

Kaz’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. He focused on his coffee, trying to keep his composure as Inej went on.

“Of course, I went to say hi,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “And she looked at me like she saw a ghost. Weird, but okay.”

Kaz couldn’t focus on her words, his mind racing with the implications of what she was saying.

“So, I asked her what she was doing around here since I remember she told me she lives in another neighborhood,” Inej continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “She told me a guy she's seeing lives nearby! What a coincidence! I told her you live right around the corner!”

“Yeah, what a coincidence,” Kaz whispered, feeling a cold dread settle in his stomach.

“She asked if I was getting you breakfast, and I told her we had a fight but made up yesterday, and I wanted to do something nice since I leave tomorrow. And you know what she does?”

Kaz shook his head, unsure of what to expect.

“She says we’re really cute and then said she wasn’t that sorry for yesterday night, threw one of the coffees in the bin, and stormed out!” Inej laughed. “Can you believe it? Didn’t even say goodbye!”

Kaz shrugged, hiding the rising panic within him. The thought of what could have happened haunted his mind. Y/N had been coming to his house, ready to apologize for canceling the night before, and he hadn’t even let her know that Inej was there or that they had reconciled.

He silently thanked Ghezen that Y/N and Inej met at the coffee shop and not at his doorstep. He had no idea of how he could’ve justified y/n presence to Inej.

“Kaz?” Inej’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

He forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

She gave him a concerned look but didn’t press further. Kaz knew he had to find Y/N and set things right before it was too late.

Kaz stared at his phone, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him. He sent a quick message to Y/n: ‘Everything okay?’

A few minutes later, her reply came: ‘Feeling guilty?’ Of course, she saw right through him. ‘You should :)’ she added.

He shook his head, but a third message captured his attention. It was a picture of the previous night, Y/n holding the toddler she sometimes babysitted. ‘Yesterday’s date. Jealous?’

Kaz felt a pang of jealousy mixed with something deeper. He couldn’t help but notice how good she looked with a baby in her arms. “A lot,” he replied.

Maybe she wasn’t as mad as he feared.

***

Inej left the next day with a promise to return in a month and a small kiss on his lips. Kaz sat in his car, still in the harbor parking lot, unsure of his next move. He wanted to reach out to Y/n but wasn’t sure what to say. Where were their boundaries now?

He decided to call her anyway. “Your girlfriend’s seat is still warm, love, what do you want?” she replied playfully. She was right, of course.

“What are you doing?” he asked, starting the car.

“Babysitting. I’m at the park.”

“Again?”

“The parents want the second one.”

“Oh,” he frowned.

“Yeah.”

They both sat in silence for a moment. Then, he gave in. “Send me your location. I’m coming.”

When he arrived, he found Y/n with the toddler asleep in her arms. “I was supposed to tire you out, not put you to sleep,” she protested softly.

“Even babies think you’re boring,” Kaz commented, immediately looking for her Switch in her bag.

“You didn’t sound so bored when you asked me to marry you and have your children,” she retorted with a satisfied smirk.

He glanced at her, blushing slightly. “Fair point.”

“You know that I brought the switch for her, right? Not for you.”

“She can go play around. I can't ”

y/n hummed, still trying to keep the toddler awake. “Do you want kids?” he asked, finally setting aside the game. “You look good with them.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows as much as her Botox allowed. “What now?”

“I mean, you seem good with them,” he desperately tried to correct his slip-up. “I didn’t—”

“Come on, Kaz, not the breeding kink, with all the fun things we could do,” she whined, laughing.

“I don’t have a breeding kink,” he weakly protested, still cursing himself.

“Really? Because it sure seems like it,” she teased, a playful glint in her eye. “First, you tell me you would have kids with me if that’s what I want. Then, you’re begging to do it without protection. What’s next, Kaz?”

Kaz groaned, his cheeks flushing. “I was just caught up in the moment, and you’re on birth control.”

“Sure you were,” she laughed, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Face it, you’ve got a bit of a breeding kink. Admit it.”

He looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I don’t. It’s just... I care about you.”

“Right, because caring about me totally explains why you keep bringing up babies,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Kaz ran a hand through his hair, feeling the heat rise in his face. “Can we drop this?”

“No way, this is too much fun,” she grinned. “I mean, come on, Kaz. Just own it.”

He shook his head, still blushing furiously. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” she teased, poking his side. “But seriously, it’s kind of sweet. Weird, but sweet.”

“Sweet?” he scoffed. “I’m not sweet.”

“Oh, you so are. Especially when you’re all flustered like this,” she said, leaning in closer. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Kaz sighed, trying to regain his composure. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she grinned. “But it’s okay. I kind of like the idea of you being at least a bit twisted, sexually speaking.”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Why do I keep talking with you?”

“Accept your fate, love,” she concluded, shoving him playfully. “Your undeniable kinks aside, yeah, I think I’m going to have children one day. What about you?”

“I don’t know. I never gave it much thought. I thought I could never have sex, so…” his voice trailed off. “And Inej doesn’t want any.”

Y/n laughed. “I’m not asking about Inej.”

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t really like babies,” he shrugged, still refusing to acknowledge how good she looked playing with the toddler.

 Despite the distraction, Kaz couldn't shake the  guilt that settled in his chest, mingling with a confusing mix of emotions. He wanted to speak, to apologize, but he found himself at a loss for words. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Are you mad about the other day?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Why should I be?” she replied, her tone casual but with an edge that cut through him.

“I told you I would break up with her,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt and frustration.

Kaz watched as Y/n sighed and shook her head. “Kaz, let’s make this clear. I don’t care. She’s not my girlfriend, I don’t know her. I still watch her videos because she’s hot as hell, but we're not even friends.” She turned to look at him, her eyes piercing through his facade. “You want to go down this path of lies and sneaking out? That’s my everyday thing. You’re not my boyfriend and I don’t want you to be. So it’s your call, I’m not going to stop you.”

Kaz sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. He felt a lump form in his throat, her words hitting harder than he expected. He thought he was prepared for her honesty, but hearing it out loud was different. He had always prided himself on being in control, but with her, things were different. She made him question everything he thought he knew about himself.

“You want to play girlfriend with me while she’s away? Let’s do it. It’s not me you’re lying to. Come on, love, how much time passed between her leaving and you calling me? Five minutes?”

He closed his eyes, the truth of her words hitting him hard. It was even less than five minutes. He had reached out to Y/n almost immediately, seeking company and distraction.

“I like spending time with you. I tried to stop you and make you reason, but I thought about it. I’m not the person that should tell you what is right and what is not. Do you want to promise me you’re going to leave her for me? Do it, you’re lying to yourself. Plus, cheating makes sex great.”

“I should feel more guilty about it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like how I’m treating you.”

“It’s fine, Kaz. I like the drama and, well, that’s always how it goes for me—the other woman,” she said, her tone less cheerful and more resigned.

Kaz threw his head back, the weight of her remark sinking in. It hurt. He hated when she reminded him that he was no better than the other men she’d been with. She was right, and it stung.

He looked at her, watching how easily she managed the toddler, how natural she seemed in that role. He found himself wondering what kind of future they could have together if things were different. But those thoughts were quickly overshadowed by the reality of their situation.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

She turned to him, her eyes softening slightly. “I’m not looking for forever, Kaz. I don’t want ‘better’. I mean, look at you,” she laughed, a bitter edge to her tone, “how fucking messed up is your life right now? And why? Because you can’t let go of your teenage crush? Sorry,  but I don’t want to end up like you, it’s sad.”

Kaz frowned, the sting of her words hitting deep. “There’s no need to be mean now.”

“Someone has to do a reality check on you sometimes,” she shrugged, her voice unapologetic. “Also, I am mean, baby, I won’t sugarcoat this to make you feel better. I’m not your saintly girlfriend. And by the way, she’s not saintly at all. She’s really passive-aggressive. You should have seen how she looked at him the other day.”

“Come on, Y/n, calm down.”

“I am super calm, Kaz. Super chill.” She leaned in, her eyes locking onto his with a predatory gleam. “I just want to see how fast you run to my bed while she’s sleeping in yours.” She whispered the words before kissing him, her lips pressing against his with a fierceness that made his resolve crumble.

Kaz hated how he melted into her mouth. She could be as mean as she wanted if it meant she’d let him kiss her venomous lips. The taste of her was intoxicating, pulling him deeper into a web of conflicting desires and emotions.

He broke the kiss, breathless, trying to regain some semblance of control. “This isn’t right,” he murmured, though his hands betrayed him by lingering on her waist.

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, her voice softening slightly. “You’re no better than me Kaz, accept it.”

Before he could answer, two old women approached them, their faces lighting up with smiles. “Your baby is so beautiful,” they started cooing at the toddler in Y/n’s arms.

“Yeah, she’s all daddy,” Y/n said, glancing at Kaz with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

He snorted but played along, accepting the compliments from the ladies. “Thanks, she’s a handful,” he added, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The women beamed, one of them reaching out to tickle the baby’s chubby cheek. “You must be so proud,” the other one said, looking between Kaz and Y/n.

“Oh, we are,” Y/n replied, her voice dripping with faux sincerity. “She’s the light of our lives.”

The older of the two women chuckled. “She looks just like you, young man,” she said to Kaz. “Got your eyes and everything.”

Kaz smiled, glancing at the toddler. “Yeah, she does. Got her mother’s smile, though,” he added, nodding toward Y/n.

“You make such a lovely family,” the second woman said, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “How old is she?”

“Just turned two,” Y/n answered smoothly, bouncing the toddler gently. “Keeps us on our toes.”

“Do you have any more children?” the first woman asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Not yet,” y/n replied, her voice steady. “But we’re definitely trying, right love?”

Kaz shot her a sideways glance, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, absolutely,” he said, playing along. “It’s a full-time job, but we love every minute of it.”

The two women chuckled, clearly charmed by the young “family.” “Well, you two are doing a wonderful job,” the second woman said. “It’s nice to see such a happy, young family.”

“Thank you,” Kaz said, his hand resting lightly on Y/n’s back. “We do our best.”

As the women walked away, Kaz let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Y/n turned to him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Trying, huh?” he teased.

“Shut up, you liked it.”

Kaz shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. 

Y/n turned to him, a smirk playing on her lips. “You handled that well, Daddy.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

She shrugged, adjusting the toddler in her arms. “What can I say? I enjoy a good roleplay.”

Kaz shook his head, the smile lingering. Despite everything, he found himself drawn to her playful nature. It was a stark contrast to the seriousness that usually dominated his life.

“So, plans for tonight, mommy?” he smirked, unable to resist teasing her further.

Y/n’s gaze rolled over his body, a playful glint in her eyes. “Of course it turns you on,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a blushing, shy schoolgirl like you are?” she shot back, her tone light but firm.

“I think I’ll need constant reminders,” he replied, his eyes locked on hers.

"I have a date later," she said, looking away casually.

Kaz hesitated, his brow furrowing. "Are you going to sleep with him?"

Y/n sighed, a hint of resignation in her voice. "I don't know, probably. I'm not very good at saying no."

"Do you even like him?" Kaz pressed, his tone tinged with concern.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Not exactly my type, but he made a reservation at a restaurant with a waiting list of months and promised me Ozempic."

Kaz's glare intensified. "Tell me you're kidding, or I swear I'll kidnap you."

"Kinky," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Yes, I'm kidding. Relax."

He studied her carefully, trying to gauge her sincerity.

"Kaz, if you're about to tell me that you can bring me to that restaurant, I'm going to punch you," she warned, half-serious.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, relenting.

She grinned triumphantly, enjoying the playful banter. Kaz couldn't help but smile despite himself, the tension between them easing momentarily. Their dynamic was always a mix of sharp wit and unspoken longing, a delicate balance they both struggled to maintain.

***

As Kaz sat alone in his apartment, the glow of the television casting flickering shadows around the room, he tried to distract himself with a movie. Yet, his mind kept drifting back to y/n and the evening's revelations. He absentmindedly scrolled through Instagram, the images of y/n in that opulent setting catching his attention again and again. The restaurant looked lavish.

But when he stumbled upon another person’s post—a picture in the exact same place y/n was —Kaz's jaw clenched involuntarily. Nikolai Lanstov was there. It couldn't be a coincidence. A wave of emotions surged through him—jealousy, suspicion, and an urgent need for answers.

He didn't hesitate. With a quick and terse message, he asked her outright, ‘Are you with Lanstov?’

The response came swiftly, almost too swiftly: ‘Yeah, you know him?’

Kaz gritted his teeth. He did know Nikolai, all too well. ‘Yes.’

Instead of evading or denying, y/n surprised him with a selfie of them together, an invitation laced with challenge: ‘Join us for drinks?’

Kaz felt a surge of possessiveness rise within him. He couldn't stand the thought of y/n spending time with Nikolai, of him wooing her with his charm and wealth. He knew he couldn't hide the turmoil inside him, nor did he want to. This wasn't about appearances or pride—it was about a visceral need to ensure y/n remained out of Nikolai's reach. He didn't care about appearing jealous or possessive. ‘On my way.’

Arriving at the upscale venue, Kaz was greeted by Nikolai's knowing grin. Their exchange was polite yet loaded with unspoken rivalry. "Dirtyhands," Nikolai acknowledged.

"Sturmhond," Kaz replied evenly, the old nicknames from their days of competition resurfacing effortlessly.

"Brekker."

"Lantsov."

Throughout their conversation, y/n watched them with an amused expression, her eyes darting between them like she was enjoying a tennis match. Kaz couldn't help but notice how she seemed to revel in their banter, as if she was testing their limits.

Nikolai, ever the provocateur, raised a playful eyebrow. “How's Inej?”

Kaz's response was swift, deflecting with practiced ease: “How's Zoya?”

They stared at each other with narrowed eyes.

Then y/n interjected, her tone teasing and her smile mischievous. "Oh, please go on," she urged, her tongue playing with the straw in her drink. "So you really know each other?"

Nikolai leaned back with a knowing smirk. “Of course. Me and Brekker go way back. The real question is, how do you two know each other?”

Y/n turned to Kaz, her gaze expectant. Kaz met her eyes confidently, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “She's my personal trainer,” he replied smoothly. 

"I’m sure she is," laughed Nikolai, ordering another round with a movement of his hand.

Y/n's eyes kept darting between the two, with a dangerous smile on her lips.

"You know, I would really love to see Paris tonight," she said, getting up. "I'll go fix my makeup. I'll leave you to it." She briefly touched Kaz's shoulder before moving away.

Nikolai leaned back, "Fuck," he muttered, snorting.

"What?" asked Kaz, completely lost.

"Seriously, Brekker?" He asked, but Kaz frowned more, "She just asked for a threesome."

Kaz's jaw clenched at Nikolai's remark, his eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he had just heard, and the implication sent a rush of discomfort through him. His mind raced, grappling with how to respond without letting his unease show too clearly.

"That's… not going to happen." Kaz said, his voice a mixture of incredulity and unease. He leaned slightly forward, his eyes narrowing as he searched Nikolai's face for any hint of jest or deception.

Nikolai leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he appraised Kaz's reaction, "I'm sure she'll be disappointed," he teased lightly, as if testing Kaz's reaction further.

Kaz leaned back, shaking his head.

"So you're sleeping with her?" Nikolai asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

Kaz hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "Something had happened," he admitted vaguely, unwilling to delve into the specifics of his complicated relationship with y/n.

Nikolai raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "That's why you ran here? Scared of the competition?" he teased lightly, his voice carrying a playful edge.

"Of you? You wish," Kaz retorted dryly, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. He glanced around the upscale establishment, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the dynamics at play. Nikolai was charismatic and charming, qualities that had undoubtedly attracted y/n's attention.

Nikolai chuckled softly, taking another sip of his drink. "Come now, Brekker," he said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. "I know how these things go."

Kaz's jaw tightened imperceptibly, his gaze narrowing slightly as he considered Nikolai's words. He knew the game all too well—the subtle dance of attraction, jealousy, and power. 

"She's not a game to me," Kaz stated firmly, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the restaurant. His eyes locked onto Nikolai's, conveying a rare sincerity and vulnerability.

Nikolai's expression softened, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious acknowledgment. "Are you sure you’re not a game to her?” he asked, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and genuine concern.

Kaz felt a pang of discomfort at the question, realizing Nikolai's astuteness in probing the complexities of his relationship with y/n. He hesitated, unsure how to respond to the implication that he might be just another piece in y/n's intricate puzzle.

Nikolai leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile lingering on his lips. "You know, I didn’t make you the cheating type, Brekker," he remarked casually, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Kaz bristled slightly at the comment, his jaw tightening as he mulled over Nikolai's words. "You're literally here with another woman, how many dates did you have?" he retorted, his voice edged with a mixture of defensiveness and skepticism.

"This is the third," Nikolai replied nonchalantly, as if keeping track of such details was inconsequential to him.

Before their banter could continue further, y/n returned to their table, her presence instantly commanding attention. She locked eyes with Nikolai, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

"He said no, right?" she asked, gesturing towards Kaz with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Nikolai chuckled, amused by the interaction. "Yeah, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Looks like we’ll have to do without him," he said with mock disappointment, kissing her hand gallantly.

Y/n giggled at Nikolai's theatrics, her eyes flickering between him and Kaz. Her gaze held a hint of mischief, as if she were enjoying the dynamic between the two men.

Kaz watched the exchange with a mix of bemusement and mild irritation, feeling like a pawn in their playful game. 

The night brought more drinks and more playful tension, and the moment of heading home arrived.

“I’m getting you home,” said Kaz firmly.

Y/n looked at him with an intoxicated smile. “Are you jealous?” she whispered in his ear. Kaz glanced at Nikolai, who had moved away to greet someone else.

“Admit it and I’m yours for the night,” she added, her breath warm against his skin.

“Yes, I’m jealous,” he admitted, his voice low and sincere.

“Good boy,” she whispered, satisfied. Y/n got up to say goodbye to Nikolai, who turned to glance at Kaz.

“Next one is mine, Brekker,” Nikolai said with a smirk.

Kaz shook his head, sliding an arm around on her back and guiding her to his car. The possessive gesture felt right, and he relished the way her body fit against his side.

“Are you taking me to your house?” she asked, her voice laced with anticipation, recognizing the streets they were making.

“Yes,” he replied, clutching the steering wheel with one hand and resting the other firmly on her thigh.

“You could have told me sooner,” she said, leaning into the contact. “You’re hot while you drive.”

“You think so?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah, a lot,” she confirmed.

“Do you like my hair?” he asked impulsively. “I have a friend who always says it’s awful.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked at him, her lips curling into a playful smile. “I like it,” she said without hesitation. “Especially when it’s completely disheveled and falls on your forehead. You look so hot after a shower that I just want to fuck you senseless and then cuddle you so much and so sweetly until you start crying and talking about how much you miss your mother.”

Kaz felt his face heat up, his usual composed demeanor faltering. The vividness of her words left him momentarily speechless. He watched as Y/N leaned over, her hand reaching out to mess his hair playfully, her touch light and affectionate.

“That’s… awfully detailed, please don’t do it,” he managed to say, his voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement. The image she painted was both flattering and unsettling.

Y/N laughed, a soft, melodic sound that eased the tension. “Too much?” she teased, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that reassured him.

Kaz nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just a bit,” he replied, feeling a strange comfort in her playful honesty.

Y/n hummed, a pleased sound, and put on some music. The low hum of the car and the rhythmic beats of the music created an intimate atmosphere. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand on her thigh and the steady vibration of the car beneath them.

Kaz’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He was used to control, to always having the upper hand, but Y/n had a way of disarming him. Her boldness, her carefree attitude, and the way she seemed to understand his darker edges left him feeling both exposed and exhilarated. As they drove through the quiet streets, he found himself stealing glances at her, marveling at how easily she fit into his life, even if it was in this chaotic, unconventional way.

As they pulled up to his place, Y/n’s fingers danced over his arm, tracing invisible patterns. “You know, I like jealous-Kaz,” she murmured, her lips curving into a seductive smile.

“Don’t get used to it,” he warned, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

“Too late,” she said, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Way too late.”

They got out of the car, and he led her inside, his hand still firmly on her waist. The night was far from over.

They fell asleep tangled, sweaty, and sticky, a situation Kaz never thought he could find himself in. The sheets were a mess, wrapped around their legs and clinging to their damp skin. His breathing was heavy, matching hers, as they lay there in his bedroom. Y/n's head rested on his chest, her hair a wild tangle across his skin.

The thought of sharing his bed, of falling asleep so intimately entwined with another person, had always seemed foreign, even impossible. Yet here he was, his arm draped protectively around her, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her back.

***

Kaz was awakened by the door opening and closing, followed by Jesper's voice. 

“What are you doing here?” he heard him ask Y/n.

“Breakfast, what are you doing here?” she retorted.

“Inej just left and I wanted to check on Kaz, but I guess he already found someone else to entertain himself with,” commented Jesper dryly.

Kaz sighed, knowing he wasn't ready to deal with them.

Y/n remained unfazed, “Should I add a plate for you?”

“I thought you were vegan.”

“I am,” she replied calmly.

“So you're cooking just for him?” Jesper's tone held a note of incredulity.

“Do you have a problem with it? I like cooking.”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Kaz isn’t exactly the breakfast-in-bed type.”

Kaz could imagine Y/n smirking. “Maybe you just don’t know him as well as you think.”

Kaz dragged himself out of bed, still rubbing his eyes, and entered the kitchen. “Morning,” he said, reaching Y/n and kissing her temple. He knew that his back, covered in scratches, was on full display, so there was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Unbelievable,” muttered Jesper under his breath. “How can you be so calm about admitting to cheating on your girlfriend? I shouldn't be seeing any of this.”

“Then stop entering my house uninvited,” replied Kaz, annoyed, while Y/n placed two plates in front of them. “Thanks, love.”

Jesper was too distracted by breakfast to notice the affectionate name, luckily.

Y/n started taking her pills, and Jesper looked at her puzzled. “Don't ask,” said Kaz, poking her side and making her pill fall.

“Kaz! That was my birth control, you idiot!” she protested, and he paled visibly. “Yeah, you better get down and look for it.”

Quickly, Kaz got on the floor, and Jesper almost choked on his bite.

“You have about an hour, baby, look faster,” she said, a bit amused.

“Seriously, Kaz? Not even protection? I mean,” Jesper turned to Y/n, “you should be an expert on this.”

“I am, but you should hear how he begs,” she said, eyeing Kaz with a playful smirk.

“Y/n, oversharing,” reminded Kaz from the floor, slightly panicking.

Jesper shook his head, barely able to suppress his laughter. “This is a new low, even for you, Kaz.”

“Just... help me look for the damn pill,” Kaz grumbled, his face burning with embarrassment.

Y/n leaned against the counter, watching them with amusement. “I guess this is a bonding moment for you two,” she teased.

“Hardly,” Kaz muttered, finally spotting the pill under the table and reaching for it. He stood up, holding it triumphantly. “Got it.”

Y/n took it from him and swallowed it quickly. “Thank you,” she said, patting his cheek.

Kaz rolled his eyes, sitting back down at the table. “Let's just eat.”

Jesper was really conflicted about all the unraveling of events, more than anything about the revelation that the two were actually sleeping together and were really chill about it. 

Y/n left, leaving the two friends alone. Jesper hit Kaz hard in the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were sleeping with her?”

Kaz massaged his arm, feeling the sting of the unexpected blow. “Because I have a girlfriend, theoretically?”

“In fact, as Inej’s friend, I’m absolutely furious with you, but as your friend, it was fucking time, man! You have to tell me everything.”

Kaz chuckled nervously, his mind racing. Inej. The thought of her brought a pang of guilt. “I really do not have to tell you anything,” he said, trying to keep his tone light but failing to mask his discomfort.

“Come on, I need details,” Jesper pressed, leaning forward with eager anticipation.

Kaz sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything? How did it happen? Was it awkward? Did you—”

“Jesper!” Kaz interrupted, feeling the heat rise in his face. “Do you really need to know all the details?”

Jesper smirked. “Of course I do. You know this is a big deal, right? Your first time isn’t something to gloss over.”

Kaz sighed, resigning himself to the conversation. “Fine. It was... intense. She made me feel comfortable, and it just happened naturally. When our arrangement was still standing, things were heating up really fast, so it just felt right.”

Jesper leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “How do I have to spell it? Details!”

Kaz rolled his eyes, feeling the heat rise in his face again. “I’m not giving you details! I’m just going to say that I understand why she made a career out of it.”

Jesper's eyes widened even more. “Wow, she must be really good, huh?”

Kaz rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “Yes, Jesper, she’s very... talented. Can we move on now?”

“Talented?” Jesper teased, nudging Kaz with his elbow. “Come on, you’ve got to give me something. How did it start? When did things change?”

Kaz sighed again, trying to find the right words. “The night I went to her house, telling her that I wanted her. She stopped me and told me to go back to Inej but said that if I ever came back to her like that in the middle of the night, she wouldn't stop me anymore. And after my fight with Inej, I went straight to her, and well, she didn’t.”

Jesper whistled low. “Damn, Kaz. That’s... intense. So you just went for it?”

Kaz nodded, remembering the raw emotion of that night. “Yeah, I did. It felt like everything I’d been holding back just came out all at once.”

Jesper leaned back, still processing everything. “And how do you feel about it now? About her?”

Kaz looked down, contemplating his feelings. “It’s complicated, Jesper. I care about Inej, but Y/n... she’s different. She makes me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. But she doesn’t want a serious thing, and I can’t manage to man up enough to break up with Inej.”

Jesper raised an eyebrow, surprised at Kaz’s vulnerability. “So you’re stuck in the middle, huh? That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Kaz admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “Inej deserves better than this, but I can’t let go of Y/n. She’s like a drug I can’t quit.”

Jesper nodded thoughtfully. “Have you talked to Y/n about what you want?”

Kaz shook his head. “She’s made it clear she’s not interested in anything serious. And honestly, I don’t know if I am either. It’s just... easier this way, even if it’s wrong.”

Jesper sighed, rubbing his temples. “Kaz, you’ve got to figure this out. You can’t keep stringing both of them along. It’s not fair to anyone, especially you.”

“I know,” Kaz said quietly. “But every time I try to make a decision, I freeze. It’s like I’m paralyzed.”

Jesper leaned forward, looking his friend in the eye. “You just need to decide what you really want and go for it.”

Kaz gave a small smile. “Easier said than done.”

[woodspr1te]

possessive!miles quaritch headcanons

summary: miles quaritch often makes his claim on you known… not that you really mind

warning: (poorly done) nsfw content ahead. also written with x afab!reader in mind, and includes several afab terms. vague? angst for like 3 seconds.

this man has lost everything, so when it comes to you??? he’s not taking any chances

constantly says something about you being his, even in the most normal of conversations....

lyle’s bothering you? he’s promptly told off with a “wainfleet. leave my woman alone.” 

AND GOD FORBID ANYONE EVER MAKES A COMMENT TOWARDS YOU 

the immediate eyebrow crease when he hears it. his ears tilt down, and flatten against his head. he grips the person’s shoulder as tight as possible, practically crushing it. his smile is almost lethal by itself with the amount of fang it shows, as he leans closer to them. “say another word about my girl again, and i’ll make sure any na’vi arrows are the least of your worries” 

keeps you basically pressed against him at all times. hands on your waist, gripping your ass, entangling your fingers in his... this list is endless

his favorite thing to do of all time is to press himself against you whenever you’re doing something. burying his face into your neck and nuzzling as close as he can while he breathes in your scent

he also enjoys grinding his hips against you while he presses gentle kisses to the back of your neck, hoping to get some attention

needy needy NEEDY man. i said what i said

he’s so desperate 24/7 honestly this man is a slut for you

the amount of times you’ve come back to your home with miles’s pants on the floor and him fucking his fist is unreal

you’ll watch from the doorway as he fists his cock, his tip an angry purple hue with precum leaking out

he’s already panting, making full eye contact as he mumbles out “get your ass over here so i can cum on those pretty tits, baby”

he has a thing for marking you with his cum

you’re lucky if you leave the room without smelling like sex for the next year, body aching from the number he does on you

has a thing for scenting you too. literally will rub his head and neck all over your body to cover you in his scent so others know you’re spoken for.

his recom body goes through heat? even worse. you’re literally unable to be seen for a week, and he’s constantly pumping you full of his cum

he won’t let you get up for a while after you both finish. his arms are caging you in tight as he presses butterfly kisses to your shoulder, sucking your skin lightly and nipping so it’ll bruise

he marks you UPPPPPPP like to the max

nothing can ever cover them up. and if you wear na’vi clothing? good luck.

your hips have faint fingertip marks all the time. it’s practically part of your skin now from how hard he grips them when bouncing you on his dick

HICKEYS. he has the mind of a teenage boy sometimes okay and all he cares about is everyone seeing how good you let him make you feel

bite marks. miles puts those teeth to use, okay. they litter the inside of your thighs and hip bones. he enjoys watching you squirm as he marks you up, especially when he’s taking his time eating you out

you cum on his fingers once when he bites your hip? he’ll do it every time from then on

prides himself on how good he makes you feel. when he’s fucking you from the back and you’re crying out for him, he’ll pull you up against his chest, wrapping his arm around you. then, he’ll make you tell him how good it feels or you don’t get to cum

you comply?? he’ll make you do it over and over. “who’s my good little slut?” “you like the way i make you feel? tell me how good this dick is.” “such a good girl, my good girl.” “nobody else is ever gonna give you this. only i can fuck you like this, right princess?”

YOU’RE A BRAT??? good luck. he will make you beg and then overstim you to eywa and back. “only good girls get to finish. you think you’ve been my good girl?” “tell me you’re mine and i’ll think about letting you cum.” “who does this pussy belong to? that’s fucking right. me. say it.”

fucks you in front of mirrors so you can see how well he fits inside you. loves to fuck you with your hands pressed against the glass as he grips your throat and murmurs “you see that sloppy little cunt? look at how perfect it fits around me. look at how good you take my cum”

has a big thing for cockwarming and aftercare cuz he really loves you. runs his hands up and down your body, kissing your head as he mumbles how proud you made him and how you’re his sweet girl. makes sure to press all of his cum back into you, and presses a little bit down on your clit every time he does just to be a fucking tease.

he just wants to know you’ll love him for the rest of time and that he’s yours. as much as he loves hearing you say you’re his, he needs to know he belongs to you as well

you even jokingly tell him he’s your big, strong mate? he’s literally purring, tail swishing back and forth with happiness.

has such a strong urge to protect you. places his body in front of yours when there’s a suspicious noise. won’t let you out of his sight for a second.

miles LOVESSSSS when you seem like you need him. can’t sleep and you wake him up for comfort?

at first, he seems a little grumpy, but the moment he realizes it’s you his voice turns soft. “sweetheart… baby, what’s wrong? c’mere, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna touch my girl, not while i’m here”

he’s not possessive in a “jealous of every man” kind of way. although he wouldn’t like the way some people look at you, it’s about you choosing to leave him/abandoning him more than anything

he’s lost so much already. his human self, his dignity, his son, the war…. but losing you would truly break him

ESPECIALLY if you are na’vi. not even recom. he doesn’t want your clan to steal you back, can’t let you betray him

it would terrify him if you both fought and you brought up leaving. perhaps it would be about the actions of specops or the rda’s actions. regardless, your cry of “i can’t fucking do this anymore, miles” stops him dead in his tracks

his throat feels like it’s closing. he has barely breathed in 10 seconds, and the silence between you both is deafening

you shook your head, turning away from him. “miles… i love you, but i can’t-”

“don’t fucking go. you promised you’re mine.” he interrupts you almost immediately, and he’s a lot closer than you remembered. he sounds broken, almost wounded

you swallow, looking down as you take his hands in yours. “my miles…”

he interrupts you again, pressing his forehead against yours. “you love me? then stay, please. we can figure it out, baby. we’re mates, right? m’not stupid, i know what it did when we made tsaheylu. i chose you forever, so choose me.”

he’s whipped, mkay. literally would rather saw his own tail off then hear you say you’re leaving him

lowkey freaks out if you ever get injured. he keeps a very calm facade, and perhaps even scolds you with a light “c’mon baby, what the hell were you thinking” but he’s secretly so happy you’re gonna be okay

shows you off at ANY AND EVERY possible chance

you walk in a room? “there she is! been looking all over for you, baby.”

hyper-aware of your reactions. he notices you’ve favoring one kind of fruit more, and all the suddenly he’s gathered 20 of them for your consumption

prides himself on being the best mate possible for you, and he’s going to make sure you know it too

[c0ld0utside]

Beach Centaur father adopts a siren kid that is super timid?

Siren kid (timid) Centaur dad

Warnings: (Let me know if I’ve missed any): Mentions/descriptions of violence, poorly written timid reader, manipulation

Criticism + advice is welcome, here we go

At first, Jordan didn’t care much for humans. As far as he knew all they did was whine, take, and fight over the smallest things. Not to mention, their other behaviors were… interesting. So, like most other species that the humans deemed “monsters,” he ignored them. He focused on his own life in his home in the woods, tending to his pond and garden and admiring his collection of fish. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. 

This, however, was something he couldn’t ignore. 

It’s true that voices carry. The news that some human sailors had killed a pod of merfolk spread like wildfire through Jordan's coastal town. A few weeks later, a small pod of merfolk washed up on the shore, their tails sloppily lopped off. Everyone was in an uproar. The outrage was understandable; most species had been allied with sirens for centuries. Their songs and stories were loved by all.

Jordan’s dislike for humans grew with every new report. Being humans, they got curious and wanted to explore. Instead of asking for help like any other sane person, however, they settled on harming those who would be happy to lend a hand. 

So when he found you washed up on the rocky part of the shore, covered in cuts and a large, nasty gash, he was more than happy to help. Jordan swaddled you in wet towels and hurried home with you in his arms. He clutched you close to his chest the entire time, and you may or may not have heard him muttering prayers to the Gods under his breath. Originally, he had planned on fishing and collecting trinkets to sell, but you were far better. You were precious. A helpless, innocent little thing. How could anyone want to harm you?

[...]

The trip back didn’t take long. It turns out the stranger lives up on the cliffs. It’s different from observing them below, somewhat hidden by the fog. Seeing that first thing in the morning always filled you with a sense of something that you couldn’t explain. Trees and greenery tinted by the mist…beautiful yet ominous. Up here, however, the trees are thinner than they seem, covered in moss and fungi. Trails are constantly battling with plants growing back over them, too.

“We’re almost there, little one,” the centaur said. “May I call you that, by the way? ‘Little one’? I hope you don’t mind.” You respond by curling up further into yourself, trying to hide. The stranger responds to that by rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder. 

When you arrive, he nudges you carefully. “Look,” the stranger says. “Isn’t it pretty?” You look up, and he’s right. It’s beautiful. A cozy wooden house with a large decorated pond surrounded by odd thin trees, wildflowers, and shrubbery everywhere. If you squint past the fog, you can see the ocean down below. Home, your heart aches. 

The centaur gently lowered you into a closed-off part of his pond- an area he had for whenever his fish got injured somehow. “Wait here,” he said quietly, rushing into his home and returning a few moments later with a jug of…something. He slowly poured some of it into the pond, the liquid smelling absolutely wild. “I don’t know much about sirens or merfolk, so I figured the medicine I use when my fish get hurt might help.” The centaur explained sheepishly. “Are you comfortable? What do you want to eat? Have you had strawberries before?”

He couldn’t stop bombarding you with questions like a fussy mom when her kid is sick. “No,” you answered, voice weak. Sure, this centaur was helping you, but you had no idea who he was, where you were, or if he would hurt you. Was he luring you into a false sense of security like those humans had? It all happened so quickly. You and your family had been lounging in the shallow waters and basking in the sun. Your mother was humming a tune when a boat approached. Some humans called your parents over and the next thing you knew there were harpoons and nets and screams and cries.

The stranger must’ve noticed you sinking into your mind because he (to the best of his ability) knelt down at the edge of the pond. “Hey, you’re okay here, I promise. I just want to take care of you.” The stranger says, keeping his tone as comforting as possible. He frowns when you slip underwater, peeking out a few moments later. “Okay, let me try this,” the centaur mutters under his breath. “My name is Jordan, and I’m going to help you get better. I swear on my heart.” He introduces, making a cross-my-heart motion. “Now, I’m going to go get you some strawberries. Let’s see if you like them, yeah?” Jordan announces, getting up and trotting away.

[...]

Jordan doesn’t quite get it. He’s trying his best. He keeps his voice soft, he talks to you, and he tells you interesting things, like the weird scent you smell when he pours the medicine into the water is tea tree oil.And that the hammering noise you heard is a bird called a woodpecker. Oh- and that pretty fish swimming around you is called a koi fish. And aren’t those strawberries sweet?

Yet it’s always the same. You barely answer, only shaking your head or nodding. You hide underwater most of the time, hanging out with the fish and poking at the underwater plants. If his voice is anything but soft you freak out and disappear into the pond, back to the safety of rocks and pebbles and weird-looking fish and plants. 

That’s not the only problem. The news of human attacks on sirens and merfolk is getting worse. Apparently, humans are treating them as they would seafood. As if that couldn’t get any worse, reports of kidnappings turned into busted “fish farms” after clans raided human settlements in search of the missing sea creatures. 

Jordan can’t possibly take you back to the ocean now. It’s too dangerous, and he’s getting attached. You’re not some prized fish, oh no. You’re a treasure that he has to protect. So when you finally muster up the courage and ask him to take you home in that nervous, tiny voice of yours, he’s quick to say no. 

He knows you won’t understand right away, so he tells you things he’s heard through the grapevine from his time in town. 

“I went to sell some of the vegetables from my garden today, and saw a poster saying that a pod of mermaids has been taken by humans.”

“I went to buy these shells to remind you of home. …I also heard that a group of humans killed some more sirens today.”

“That market is full of depressing news nowadays. A group of werewolves found that missing pod. I don’t know how they’re ever going to recover, kept in those cramped tanks. Poor things.” 

“You don’t need to worry about that happening to you as long as you stay here with me. You’re safe up here!”

“Humans have no reason to come up here. And if they do, I’ll take care of them. Promise.”

Slowly but surely, it works. You stop asking to go home. You start talking to him. It isn’t much at first, but Jordan’s smile grows every time you give him more than just a few words. He’s also made a whole new pond just for you, decorating it with shells and sea glass and other ocean-y things he got from the market. Jordan only goes down there to sell his crops and decorative plants, along with seeds in case anyone wants to try making their own garden. The rest of his time is devoted to tending to his garden and spending time with you. 

Like a good, proper guardian. 

-

I'm finally free for the summer, expect a lot of things. To the people who did not read the pinned post; requests are closed for now. Will admit that like my Miguel O'hara one, this wasn't my favorite mostly because I think it's bland and I don't know how to write timid/shy characters just yet. At least I gave it a go.

[mustainegf]

😊😊james fluff and u get him a little kitten for his birthday/christmas wtv and he treats it like a baby

this is just about the cutest thing i think i've ever written

𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 ¹⁹⁸⁵

Christmas night in the Metallica house in 1985. Stockingless, the five of us huddled around the small, scraggly tree that we could scrape up. There were no Christmas lights, or ornaments, just a tiny little tree Cliff and I had hauled inside. James stuck an empty beer can on the top, claiming it was the star. It wasn't much, but it was ours, and that made it special enough.

James, Lars, Kirk, Cliff, and I had been living together for about a year, every penny they made went toward the band. Christmas wasn't really a feasible option for any of us, yet we still managed to get each other a few small presents.

"Alright, who's first?" Lars rubbed his hands together with a grin. He always had this look in his eye, like he knew something we didn't.

"I'll go," Kirk volunteered, pulling a small, poorly wrapped package from behind his back. "It's for you, Lars."

Lars ripped off the wrapping paper, revealing a packet little gold earrings. "Dude, thanks! I always lose mine," he said, oddly, but genuinely pleased.

Next came Cliff. He handed a small, fiat package to Kirk. Inside was a collection of horror movie posters. "I know you love this stuff, I had a cousin who didn't want 'em no more," Cliff said with a mellow smile.

Kirk's eyes lit up. "Man, these are awesome! Thanks, Cliff. Check out this Dracula one! Fuck yeah!"

I enjoyed watching the guys exchange their presents. Then it was my turn.

"I got something for James," I said, feeling some nervous flutter in my stomach.

James looked at me with his bright blue eyes, his expression curious. "What is it?" he asked, grinning.

"Hang on, I need to get it from the other room," I said and dashed off to take the small box. I had been building up to this for weeks, I had found the perfect gift.

It had only been a few months ago that James and I were out for a walk when we came upon somebody's cat wandering around the streets. James knelt down, cooing at the cat, stroking her, and cuddling with love that gave away just how much he adored the animal, even though he had never admitted it. The memory of this Incident had remained in my mind, and now, with my eyes on this kitten, I just knew this had to be his.

I gingerly took the box that was full of holes and headed back into the front room. I juggled my grasp on the shaking box, making the guys raise their eyebrows.

"What's in the box?" Lars asked, bending over to get a closer look.

"Open it and find out," I told James, holding it out to him.

James took the box, and as he felt it move, he froze. "What…?"

All the guys stared in curiosity and confusion. James turned around eyeing me with a cautious look, turning to open the box, gently tugging at the cardboard as the box wobbled. A little black kitten poked its head out, mewing softly.

James just melted there, his eyes wide with shock, as well as instant love. He scooped the little kitten up into his arms, cradling him like a precious jewel to the world. "Oh my God," he whispered, smooching the kitten's head all over.

"Seriously, a cat?" Lars laughed, shaking his head. "You are such a goddamn softie, Hetfield."

"Shut up, Lars," James replied, but he was smiling. He was too thrilled to be harassed. He looked up at me, his eyes sparkling. "Is it a dude or a chick?"

"It's a boy," I told him while chuckling, feeling warm inside when his face lit up.

James thought for a moment, then grinned. "I'm gonna name him Snowball."

We all burst out laughing. "Snowball? Really? The cat is jet black, dumbass" Cliff chuckled.

"Yeah, Snowball," James said nodded, but he was laughing, too. "He is mine."

The teasing continued, but James didn't mind a bit. He was head over heels in love with the tiny kitten and picked him up, kissing him all over. Snowball squirmed just a bit but seemed quite content in James' arms.

James with Snowball was the sweetest thing I had ever seen. He acts so hard on the outside, but he has such a big heart. He was so full of happiness and love to give

What remained of the night was laughter and joy. The guys continued to rag on James and his new kitten, but he didn't mind one bit.

Snowball was now cozily nestled in James' lap, purring away as the night rolled on. Across from me, James's eyes overflowed with gratitude. "Thank you," his lips silently mouthed, his fingers buried in snowballs black fur.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Always There - Chapter Two: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, mentions of death and murder, mentions of Azkaban, shittyly written angst, flashbacks,

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1994

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

About a week after the two professors had fallen asleep whilst talking, everything was kind of normal. Y/N was actively avoiding Remus and Severus has been particularly rude to the new professor. Harry had finally taken to questioning his aunt about her strange behavior and Snape’s aggressive nature toward Remus. He had waited until after dinner, following her into the greenhouse.

“Aunt Y/N, Professor Lupin said he knew my parents. Did you know him too?” Harry asked, trying to mask his intentions.

“You just want to know why I avoid him, don’t you?” She sighed, looking her nephew in the eye.

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“You certainly cannot, my love. I know you too so I know you won’t leave me alone until I tell you or you pester Sev enough to tell you. Come sit with me, this is gonna be a longer talk than I want it to be but you deserve to know everything about the situation,” She explained. The two Potters entered her office and sat on the very same couch Minerva had spotted Y/N and Severus the week earlier. “We can start off with how I first met Remus. We met on platform 9 ¾ right before the train came, James was off with some of his friends…”

**

The platform was bustling with witches and wizards alike, the anticipation waiting for the Hogwarts Express was palpable. James was off chatting with Sirius and Y/N was sitting on the ground with her nose stuck in her herbology book. Her mind was racing because she was nervous about what house she would be put in, she was wondering who her professors were, if they were nice and so on. James promised her that all of the professors were nice, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Slughorn were some he mentioned by name. Although James had tried reassuring her, it didn’t do much to help ease her nerves.

“You’re James’ sister, right?” A voice came from her right, startling her slightly, “Sorry to frighten you, he has a picture of the two of you in our dorm so I thought I’d say hi. My name is Remus.”

“Like Remus and Romulus? That’s pretty cool. I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” She said. The two had begun chatting, talking about where they lived, what their families were like, Remus asked her what subject she was most excited to learn about and of course the young witch had said Herbology.  

Once the train had arrived, Remus and Y/N boarded together, talking all the while as they tried to find a compartment to sit in. The only empty one was in the back of the train so the two sat and talked the whole ride to Hogwarts, The conversation only pausing when the sweets trolley rolled by and when James and Sirius had popped in to say hello.

Their friendship only grew from there, Remus helping her study for DADA and History Of Magic and Y/N helping him study for Charms and Herbology. Once Remus had joined James, Sirius and Peter, the five wizards got up to lots of trouble. Although Y/N was a year younger than the other four, she was more than willing to help out with pranks. Her and Remus, however, were the only two that strayed away from bullying other students, especially Severus Snape.

**

“That was how Remus and I became friends, he was the fastest friend I had ever made. We talked for only like a minute and became friends right away. We got closer and closer as the years went on. I'll spare some details about our friendship because we got into some trouble or we would just hang out in the library reading or studying. Everything got rough once James and Lily were killed.”

**

Remus showed up to the destroyed house in Godric’s Hollow, Y/N outside of the fence with a crying Harry in her arms, Severus standing beside her, his cloak over her shoulders to keep her warm in the cold autumn air. 

“Y/N, is it true? He killed them?” Remus asked her.

“J-Jamie and Lils are dead, h-he tried t-to kill Harry but he s-survived somehow,” She stuttered out behind her tears. Severus excused himself so the two friends could talk things out.

“Peter is dead, Sirius was the one who sold them out, he murdered Peter and a dozen muggles,” He explained, “Listen, dove, I need to go, I’ll send you an owl okay?” She just nodded and watched him apparate away. 

She was left for a while to cry, until Severus showed up and escorted her elsewhere, somewhere she could be safe and warm with baby Harry. Somewhere she could escape the reality that faced her, she was alone with a child she didn’t know how to care for, a child that would be legend. A boy who lived, the only known survivor of the killing curse and the defeater of Lord Voldemort. 

**

“I know you like professor Lupin and I understand that, he's a great guy. He just left me at a time where I really needed him. We got into an argument last week and I’ve been avoiding him since,” Y/N explained, “I don’t want any of this to change the way you look at Lupin, he’s an incredibly smart man and an extremely talented wizard.”

Harry decided to let things go until winter came around. He had once again been attacked by a dementor, luckily Dumbledore stopped his fall before he hit the ground of the Quidditch pitch. Harry went to Remus for help but he was too weak at the time, after the break he was promised a lesson about patronuses, a way to keep himself safe from dementors. 

Harry had the wonderful idea to sneak around Hogsmeade with the invisibility cloak (even though he had permission to go), finding out from Minerva, after sneaking in behind her and the minister of magic, that Sirius Black was his godfather. Herminone and Ron helped Harry back to Hogwarts, where he sought out his aunt.This of course, was against the advice of Hermione who told him to just sleep it off and talk to her in the morning. He knew she was in the greenhouses, either tending to the plants or grading student papers. What he didn’t expect to find was her and the potions master laughing over tea. He stared at the pair, tears threatening to leave his eyes, the sense of betrayal weighed heavy on him.

“You knew,” He uttered. The two professors stopped laughing and turned to Harry, not expecting him to be in her office.

“What happened, my love? Why are you so upset?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with concern for her nephew.

“You knew,” He repeated.

“What are you talking about Harry? What did I know?” She was confused, she had never seen her nephew so distraught over something before, she wanted nothing but to help him with whatever he was dealing with.

“You knew that Sirius Black killed my parents! You knew that Sirius Black ratted them out to Voldemort! You knew Sirius Black! You know he’s my godfather! He was your friend!” Harry finally shouted at his aunt.

“There is no need to shout, Harry, come sit, let’s talk this out,” Y/N said calmly although deep down she too, was distraught. She had never wanted Harry to know about Sirius’ role in his life but somehow, he had found out.

“No, I want you to tell me right here! I don’t want to sit and talk!”

“That is no way to speak to your aunt, Harry,” Snape chimed in, upset with how the boy was screaming at his aunt, the woman who cared for him and loved him his whole life.

“You shut up, this has nothing to do with you!”

“Harry! Apologize to him right now!” Y/N scolded, the tension in the room was rising, she knew at any moment that Harry would snap and in turn so would Severus.

“NO! He has no right to be a part of this conversation! It’s between me and you!” Severus was about to go at the boy but once Y/N had laid her hand on his shoulder, he stopped short. The pair made eye contact, Severus knowing she wanted to handle this by herself so he excused himself to her office to get the potion ingredients he originally came to her for.

“I knew about Sirius being your godfather, yed. Of course I did, I’m your godmother, the two of us did everything for you until Sirius turned on us. He was your father’s best friend,” Y/N told her nephew.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry demanded the answer.

“I didn’t want you to know, you’ve dealt with enough in your life, I didn’t want to add another thing on top of it.”

“So you knew he sold out my parents to Voldemort?”

“Yes, I knew. Trust me Harry, I didn’t like it just as you don’t. I feel just as betrayed if not more because he was like a brother to us,” Y/N tried to explain, somehow keeping herself calm throughout the conversation even though she kept seeing the picture of her brother dead on the floor in her mind.

“You feel betrayed! You’ve lied to me my whole life! You never told me anything! Nothing about Professor Lupin, nothing about Sirius Black, nothing about Peter Pettigrew! Why?” Harry went back to shouting at his aunt, a glass next to her shattering to pieces.

“Because it hurts me Harry! It hurts to even think about it, let alone talk about it! Remus and Sirius were my brothers and they betrayed me! Peter at least died instead of betraying us, instead of leaving me! It pains me to talk about your father but I do it anyway, for you! Everything I do is for you Harry, don’t you realize that! You are the most important thing in my life! You expect me to just turn around and hurt you the way I got hurt once I learned about all of this!” She shouted back, the glass from some of her cabinets shattered as she shouted at the boy.

“If I’m the most important thing in your life, why lie? Why hide this from me!” Harry was now just looking for a fight, he was getting information out of his aunt by upsetting her so he continued to do it. 

“Because I love you! Because I care about you! You are my boy! You are like the son I never got to have! You are exactly like your father! Your father that I miss every single day because he was my best friend! You are the only family I have Harry James Potter! You are the only family I will ever have!” She had begun crying, wiping her tears as they came to try and appear like she was not crying even though Harry knew she was. 

“You’re not my mother! You will never be my mother!” Harry screamed at her, this caused the woman to burst into tears, Severus had come back into the room once he had heard her crying.

“That’s enough Harry, go back to your dormitory,” Severus said sternly.

“No!”

“Stop acting like a defiant child and do as I say. You’ve done enough, you wanted your answers, you got them. Now go!” The potion’s master was furious at the boy, he had never seen Harry act this way before, in all the years of knowing him, this had never happened. Harry had stormed out of the greenhouse leaving the two professors once again. The day had started off cheerful and happy and ended with Y/N in despair and spiraling due to not only her nephew but remembering what she had seen and the trials and tribulations she had gone through.

taglist

@acupnoodle @chxelsxaa @fluffyrat365 @fanficwriter5

[siilvan]

bloodsport – III

prologue | part one | part two | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a successful escape, you try to convince yourself that the prison and makarov are behind you. things just never seem to go to plan, though.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: not proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, poorly written combat, allusions to trauma and stress, mentions of typical murderous behavior from makarov (∶__∶), OG mak's backstory bc we don't know shit about the reboot lol

word count: 5.9k

note: my birthday's on the 3rd, so pls take this as a gift from me to you :) the support on this series has also been insane 😭 you guys are so sweet!! <33

also big shoutout to @roosterr bc i completely copied the way she writes texts in fics LMAO i hope it's okay with you bestie ilysm

"anyone else would be dead already."

what the hell does that mean?

you're lying on your back, absently staring up at the ceiling, those words replaying in your mind over and over again. yet another week has passed since "the incident," as the guards in the corridor so kindly put it.

clearly makarov had given his men a new order after you killed the younger doctor. not only did they avoid touching you, but they hardly even looked in your direction outside of required monitoring. doctor tarkovsky was singlehandedly providing your medical care, as well. the next time you saw the doctor - the morning after the incident - proved to be an interesting experience. while treating you, he made a comment about "the commander seeming angry."

you add it to your ever-growing list of questions.

blaring alarms interrupt your somewhat peaceful pondering. you shoot up, instinctively reaching for your belt to grab your gun, only to be reminded that you're unarmed. the guards in the hall are shouting at each other, appearing just as surprised as you are.

carefully, you rise from the bed and cross the room, trying to listen to what they're saying. if there was one benefit to your captivity, it was the small bit of russian that you've picked up on. amongst the frantic chatter, you can make out a few words:

attack. small team. breached. combat. prisoner.

your chest tightens as you step back from the door. the base is under attack, and whomever is leading the charge is enough of a threat to raise the alarms. a small team could never hope to contend with an entire ultranationalist stronghold, though. there's only one man, one team, that could succeed despite being so heavily outnumbered.

the one-four-one.

it has to be them. they're the only ones bold enough to stage an attack, and the only ones capable of pulling it off.

even if it's someone else, they're your ally now, and your only hope of making it out of here alive.

you can see the guards scrambling outside your cell, frantically following whatever orders were being barked at them through their radios. for now, they seem to disregard your presence in favor of organizing their forces to combat the threat, but you know it won't last. contrary to the size of the prison, you're the only captive being held here; any mention of "prisoner" is referring to you.

the area quiets down as most of the men rush to aid their fellow soldiers, leaving only the alarm to keep you company. you mentally curse as you consider your very limited options. without a set of keys to escape this cell, you're stuck here.

a purposeful set of footsteps rapidly approaching makes the decision for you. quickly, you dive just out of sight of the door, pressing your back to the wall. the person stops just outside and grumbles to himself as you hear the sound of keys jingling in the lock. the iron door swings open, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet as he stares into the empty space, confusion evident in the grunt that leaves him.

a second passes before he steps into the room, scanning the far side of it. your eyes fall to the knife on his belt, easily removable if you're fast enough, and you dive for it before he can turn around.

you tear the blade from its sheath and swiftly plunge it into the side of his neck, ripping a strangled cry from the soldier as he reacts too slowly to save himself. you pull him to the ground and lay his body flat, releasing a sharp breath once you confirm the kill. temporary relief floods your system, hastening your movements as you collect as much of his gear as you can.

immediately after you secure the last strap of the armor vest, you hear voices calling out from somewhere close by. searching for the guy you just killed, you assume. with one final gear check, you move to the same spot against the wall and wait for the group to get closer.

the first of the bunch steps into the room and freezes at the sight of the other man, and you take the opportunity to drop him with the rifle you had collected. the remaining members, two or three men, are quick to respond once the gunshots ring out. you peek around the corner as they rush forward with their guns drawn, electing to start the gunfight yourself.

you manage to shoot one down before the others notice you. a bullet whizzes past your head as you aim down the barrel and shoot another, forcing you to duck back into cover.

"you're cornered. come out and i'll let you live." the final soldier says, frustration lacing his command. you sit still, lying in wait until his impatience overpowers his better judgement. a tense silence fills the air between you, only broken by the soldier groaning and coming to you instead.

he circles the corner, weapon at the ready, but scans the room in too wide an arc. you finish him off and peek out into the hall again, finding it completely vacant.

the radios on the soldiers bodies suddenly come to life, and you hear a familiar voice on the other end. you pick one of them up and attempt to decipher the question to no avail. however, there is one word that you understand. prisoner.

"you should've sent a bigger group," you speak into the radio, feeling your lips twitch into a smile at the way makarov stops short.

he merely chuckles, though, and the smile drops. "you continue to impress me, lieutenant. let's see if you can escape." he replies, relaxed as ever. he switches channels, and the radio goes silent.

you travel down the path you took the first day, when makarov was accompanying you. there's little resistance beyond a few stragglers that you dispatch with ease. most of the forces are focused on the invaders, too busy to properly deal with you as you attack from behind. the number of enemies ahead of you increases the further you go - a sign that you're heading in the right direction.

eventually, you reach an exterior door and push it open.

to say the situation is chaotic would be an understatement. soldiers are hurrying across fields, arming themselves and their allies, shouting out various commands and information. you duck low and stick to the shadows, doing your best to avoid a firefight now that the enemy solidly has the advantage.

you make some distance and perk up at the sounds of gunfire. you've stumbled across the main battle. with a renewed sense of hope to push you forward, you go towards it, ending up crouched next to an APC as you search through the chaos for any friendly faces.

one of the nearby vehicles erupts into flames moments later, catching you off-guard and stealing your attention from the fight. scrambling to your feet, you stiffen as something smooth and cold is pressed against the back of your skull. the barrel of a gun. you raise your hands in surrender and pray that the person holding the weapon can be reasoned with.

"wait," a deep voice, husky and all too familiar, speaks from behind you. "petra? 's that you?" the man, captain price, lowers his gun, allowing you to spin around and look at him.

you're almost ready to shed tears upon seeing his face, equal parts concern and relief etched into his hard expression. he grabs ahold of your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as you nod, silently answering his question. a dark figure emerges from behind one of the vehicles at price's back and catches your eye.

the stark white skull mask instantly gives away his identity: ghost. he stops at your side, eyes crinkling behind the mask, and you can tell that he's giving you a happy look.

your eyes leave the pair and scan the area, hunting for the last two members of the team. there's no movement aside from the fighting and chaos in the distance. your gaze flits back to price as a lump begins to form in your throat and every scenario that you've cooked up during your captivity floods into your mind.

"where's soap and gaz?" you ask, voice sounding meek compared to the way you spoke earlier. price, clearly sensing the deeper meaning behind your words, pats your shoulder in a comforting gesture before withdrawing his hand.

"they're here, no need to worry," he starts, motioning for you to follow him. "the sergeants are protecting our backsides, making sure the chopper has a clear path. we're gonna meet 'em at the southside of the prison and exfil from there."

you fall in line with the two, muscle memory all but taking over as you repeat your prior strategy; keep to the shadows and only engage the enemy if absolutely necessary. the location that price described isn't terribly far and shouldn't be difficult to reach, so long as you don't get caught up in too many fights.

ghost contacts the sergeants as you move, updating them on your position. you learn through the conversation that the team came for you, and only you - makarov isn't a concern of theirs, even once you inform price of his presence. we'll slot the bastard once you're back on your feet, he says.

"we're gettin' close, it's just up here." ghost mutters lowly. you tighten your grip on your gun, anticipation steadily building inside of you the closer you get to the rendezvous point. you're this close to freedom, this close to putting this hellish place in the past and reuniting with your team. al-mazrah, the missile, your capture, makarov– all of them would sequester themselves to nothing more than memories.

a black hawk flies overhead before touching down at the designated spot. one of the back doors swing open just as it lands, revealing gaz's smiling face. he steps aside to allow the three of you to board, giving you an eager side-hug as you shuffle past him.

"petra, happy to see you in one piece!" soap's exclamation startles you as much as it overjoys you to hear, and you're suddenly swept up into a bone-crushing hug by the scotsman upon passing gaz.

"soap–! johnny, you're squeezing me too hard–!" you gasp out, still attempting to hug the man back despite your bones being turned to mush from the pressure. he releases you almost as quickly as he scooped you up and mutters an apology. said apology barely registers in your head due to the sight he greets you with, though.

there's a nasty scar over his left eye, jagged and obviously still in the process of healing. soap hardly seems to care about it, instead grinning at you like you were revived from the dead. you tap the area below your own eye to signal to him, brows furrowing in confusion. his hand mirrors your action and his face lights up, an audible "oh" falling from his lips.

"got it in al-mazrah," he says, waving off your worried look. "makes me look pretty cool, right?" he adds with a glance around the cabin, earning an affirmative hum from price and a shrug from ghost.

gaz snorts, slumping down on one of the seats and giving him a thumbs-up. "looks wicked, mate."

you collapse into another seat with a breezy laugh. "i'm just thankful that you're alive, all of you. i was starting to doubt whether you'd come." you confess, sharing a somber look with the rest of them.

ghost breaks the mood with a shake of his head. "'course we came. we're a team, no man left behind." he keeps his gaze locked on you as he talks, bringing an appreciative smile to your lips. your attention shifts to the window at your side, watching the stronghold fade away as the helicopter lifts off the ground and departs. you refuse to tear your eyes away until it disappears over the horizon, allowing you to take a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

⋆⋆⋆

upon arriving in safe territory, you're almost instantly pulled into a brief, but strong hug by laswell, who was waiting on the airstrip as the team landed. you're ushered into the base's medical wing by her and price for a proper checkup, which, thankfully, goes by swiftly. you've had enough of doctors and medicine to last you a lifetime.

"you're sending me home?" you ask, practically jumping up from the examination table you were sitting on. your gaze darts back and forth between price and laswell, irritation boiling under your skin as they try to placate you.

"y'need to rest, petra. you've just been through two weeks of hell." price responds, putting his hand on your shoulder and urging you to sit back down. you shrug it off and shake your head.

"captain, i was given a clean bill of health!" you argue while waving your arms in front of yourself. your wounds from the missile had mostly healed, reduced to minor marks on your skin and a raised scar on your side that was gradually fading. "i just want to get back in the field– i've been out of commission for weeks!"

laswell steps toward you, meeting your gaze with a sympathetic look. "it's protocol, lieutenant. you may be fine enough to work for now, but we can't put you or the team at risk." she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. "you need to recover." she adds a second later, earning a frustrated huff from you.

you know you'd be saying the same thing in their position. if it was price, ghost, soap, gaz– if any of them were captured, you'd be forcing them to take time off, too. you can't shake everything that's happened, though. you don't have much to show in the way of torture-related injuries, but the isolation alone was enough to make your head spin. you never felt safe, always waiting and anticipating makarov's next move. the longer you went without seeing or hearing about him, the more your suspicions grew.

a break would give you the chance to collect your thoughts and break yourself out of the doubt that's been stewing in your head ever since that first meeting. in the field, you need to be confident and decisive. there's no room for hesitation and self-doubt.

"we'll keep you updated," price starts, regarding you with a reassuring smile. "and, this won't be forever. just long enough for you to get your head on straight, yeah?"

you deliberate on it, eyes falling to the floor, and nod slowly. he's right. you're not reliable in this state.

"okay." you concede, focus shifting back to the two.

you're heading out again by the evening, saying your goodbyes to the squad on the very same airstrip that you landed on earlier in the day. soap nearly crushes you in another hug, forcing price to yank him off before you suffocate, gaz reminds you about ten different times to call if you need anything, and ghost runs down a lengthy list of relaxation techniques whilst loading your bags in the helicopter.

it's nigh-impossible to be upset about the situation when it's made clear that they don't want you to go, either. after two weeks of constant stress, everyone just wants to be together again.

you get so caught up in your impromptu partings that you fail to notice the unidentified soldier watching you from across the field. even the ever-attentive captain price misses the soldier dialing a number on his phone, his eyes narrowing as the chopper lifts off with you inside.

⋆⋆⋆

you step foot in your flat well after the sun's gone down. it's silent, save for the soft padding of your socks against the floor after you kick off your boots. your bags are abandoned at the end of your bed, something you'll unpack later, and you shed your jacket before tossing it on top of the pile.

makarov... what's his story?

with a low sigh, you rub at your tired eyes with the heels of your palms and try to erase the question that's been plaguing you for longer than you'd like to admit. between laswell's intel and the stories price has told, you can paint a picture of who the man is.

a person ruled by his ambition, you've determined. while price's stories were more focused on his own experiences with makarov and his allies, what laswell provided was concrete: he massacred civilians like it was nothing. what could possibly drive a man to that point?

the trip back home proved fruitless, with most results online simply listing information deemed "safe" for the public. you need to know more about him - you need a source that isn't going to sugarcoat or hide the ugly truth. most importantly, you need someone who can get you personal details.

you fish your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your contacts list. laswell is an option, but she's not likely to give you anything while you're supposed to be taking time off work.

a name - or rather, a codename - pops up in the list. your thumb hovers over the contact, debating on whether or not to call.

you give in and click the "call" button after a moment's consideration. the line rings until a cheerful voice greets you.

"ah, lieutenant!" nikolai beams, sounding far too energized at this hour. "price told me about the successful prison break, congrats on surviving the ultranationalists."

"thanks, nik." you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "is there any chance i could ask you for a favor? i need information, stuff that i think only you can get." you nervously shift your weight while asking the question, worried that you might be hitting a dead end.

"information? about what?"

"makarov."

nikolai goes quiet, and you think he's going to deny your request. but, just as you open your mouth to justify it, he speaks.

"you want private informaton, yes?" he mutters, causing you to let out a deep breath. "price hasn't told you everything, and you want to research the man that captured you. that is to be expected."

"give me a little time, i'll send you whatever i can find." he continues. you can hear typing in the background after, signaling that he was following through with it. you tell him goodbye with a small "thanks" and hang up, an immense weight lifting off your fatigued shoulders.

a hot shower would be nice right now. you haven't had one in weeks, and nikolai said that gathering everything would take a while. you might as well use the break instead of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs while waiting for him.

you trudge to the bathroom and turn the water on, stripping out of your clothes and leaving your phone on the counter. you hop in the shower and feel your aching muscles relax as soon as the warm water washes over them, soothing weeks of pain and discomfort. when you get out and wrap a towel around yourself, you finally feel relatively at ease for the first time since your escape.

your phone buzzes from nearby, and you blink at the screen after picking it up. a message from nikolai stares back at you.

sent what i have, hope it helps 22:43 pm

thanks, appreciate it! 22:43 pm

i'll let you know if i find anything else 22:44 pm

you quickly dry off and get dressed in more comfortable clothes, grabbing your laptop as you stroll into the living room and get settled on the couch. it only takes a couple minutes to access the files that nikolai sent, and upon seeing a page of folders to look through, you're left shocked at the sheer amount of information he gave.

it's overwhelming, just how much makarov has done in his career - if you can even call international terrorism a "career." you decide to begin at the top of the list, shaking off the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach.

the contents of the folder go from typical, almost expected, crimes from someone like him, to acts that make you understand why price is wary of him. you sift through each file, studying the contents as if you're going to be quizzed on them, each word acting as another nail ripped out of your coffin.

the list of crimes seems endless. kidnapping, torture, trafficking, bombings, assassinations, mass murder... not only are you lucky to be uninjured, you're lucky to be alive. the privilege of being a "special" target, you presume. if not for your position in the task force, you'd be lying dead in a ditch or tortured to the brink of insanity. your stomach churns at the thought.

eventually, you reach a folder named "personal." it lives up to its name, as when you access it, the files are all details about the man himself. some of the basic information is known to you already, but most of it is entirely new - stuff you're sure was intentionally hidden away from curious eyes.

what you can find of his life before he began his reign of terror both answers your questions and adds more to the list. he was a paratrooper, a captain in the spetsnaz, regarded as a master in the field despite the list of complaints on his file. many of the men under his command considered him a natural leader; charismatic, cunning, but harsh in his methods. he received several comments from the higher-ups about his alarming behaviors, but it all came to a head when he was investigated for war crimes. he left the military to avoid the charges.

somehow, the crimes that got him discharged seem mild compared to what he's done since. you can't wrap your brain around why makarov treated you so... kindly, given everything you've read. he should have ended your life or made it a living hell, but instead, you got regular medical treatment, decent conditions, and mostly left alone during your imprisonment.

you sit back from the screen, sluggishly running a hand down your face. makarov didn't fight to keep you captured. if anything, he was happy to let you escape. it doesn't make sense. he went through the effort of capturing you alive and gained nothing from it. for a man that favors the zero-sum game, he's not playing it well.

unless this is his gain. getting in your head, confusing you, forcing you to think about him when you should be focusing on recovering. he's bogging you down, preventing you from being reliable for your teammates.

or, maybe you're looking into things too deeply. overestimating just how clever one man can be.

your phone buzzes from its spot on the cushion, and you blink at the bright screen, squinting to read the notification. it's a text message from an unknown number. a few different people flash through your mind, potential allies that could have changed their numbers recently, but no one stands out. you exhale and click the notification to open up the message fully.

feeling well? 12:35 am

you stare at the message for a minute. it can’t be price or any of the boys, you already have their phone numbers. you highly doubt that laswell changed hers without updating you, and nikolai probably hasn’t change his in the two hours since your last conversation. just as you go to type a response, two more messages pop up.

recovering at home is preferable, isn't it? 12:36 am

much more comfortable than a medical wing. 12:36 am

who is this? 12:37 am

take a guess - m 12:37 am

a chill creeps up your spine as the realization dawns on you. it's makarov; not only does he have your phone number, but he knows you're not at base. he's managed to track your location in less than six hours.

you drop your phone on the coffee table and shoot a wary glance around the room before checking to make sure your front door is locked. once you're sure of it, you start to pace around the room, wringing your hands together. the smart decision would be to call someone - price, laswell, one of the boys, someone that can get here quickly or send a person in their place.

you're not defenseless by any means, but there's no telling what makarov knows. he could be halfway across the world or in the very same city, and you have no way of finding out without putting yourself at risk. you may have gotten lucky in al-mazrah, but you can't rely on luck.

your phone lights up again, and from your position a few feet away, you can just barely make out what the screen says.

let's talk, lieutenant. 12:40 am

no fucking way. you're not entertaining the madman that you just escaped.

you need to get out; take a walk, clear your head. makarov knows where you are, but that doesn't mean he's actually here. for all you know, it could be a lucky guess. you throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes before shoving your phone in your pocket, hastily stumbling out the door. the crisp night air hits you the second you step out, making you draw your jacket tighter around yourself as you start down the sidewalk.

your brisk - practically panicked - walk does little to calm your nerves initially. you have to force yourself to slow down, strolling along at a more leisurely pace. after a couple minutes, your shoulders droop and the panic begins to dissipate.

the late hour means that you're the only person out right now. all you have for company is the occasional breeze that sweeps past, and you think that you prefer it this way.

until your phone buzzes. you stop dead in your tracks and pick it up, letting out a relieved breath at soap's name flashing on the screen. you answer the call with an easy smile.

"hey! i didn't expect you to pick up," soap laughs on the other end. "realized how late it was after dialin' your number." he adds, pulling a chuckle from you.

"haven't been able to sleep, so i figured i'd take a walk." you shrug, as if he can see you.

"ah, figured you'd pass out the second you landed." he concedes while you absentmindedly toe at the ground, eyeing your surroundings. "just wanted to check in– make sure everything is going okay with you."

for a moment, you debate on mentioning the messages from makarov. logically, it's the right thing to do; your team needs to know about any potential threats. however, there's a little part of you that hesitates to say anything. you feel the urge to keep it a secret, to wait and see what happens. makarov's given you useful intel before, maybe you can get more out of him.

"yeah, i'm doing all right," you mutter, reassuring soap. "just want to get back to work as soon as i can. i miss you guys."

soap gives you an appreciative hum. "y'just gotta heal up quick, l.t.! we're all missing you here. ghost and price are meaner than you are."

"they're not 'mean,' they just don't tolerate as much nonsense from you and gaz as i do." you counter with a playful laugh, pulling a groan from soap.

"it's not nonsense, it's– what?" soap suddenly stops talking, and you hear a voice in the background of the call. he says something to the person before exhaling dramatically and speaking into the phone again. "sorry 'bout that, it was price. apparently we've got somethin' to handle– a wrecked shadow company transport, i think. i'll send a message after we're done, yeah?"

you wave your hand while talking, again, as if he can see you. "don't worry about it, just stay safe out there. let me know how it goes."

the two of you exchange quick goodbyes and you end the call with a smile still plastered on your face. your brows furrow as you immediately receive another call, though. the number that flashes across the screen makes you grip the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white from the strain.

makarov, of course. you decline the call with an irritated sigh and spin on your heel, heading back to your apartment. another one comes through seconds later, which you choose to simply ignore this time. you speed up the short walk to your front door and slam it closed behind you, locking it just as quickly.

"you are surprisingly difficult to get ahold of, petra."

you whip around and press your back to the door, locking eyes with the man you tried so desperately to avoid. makarov stands in the middle of the room, a smug grin on his face, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

"how the hell did you find me so fast?" you sneer at him, hand tightening around the set of keys in your palm. he's wearing a thick vest and armor plates - they won't save you, but the keys might buy you enough time to reach the gun in your bedroom.

"i have my ways," he tilts his head to the side, moving to lean against the back of your couch. "i needed to speak with you, and you weren't answering the phone. this was my only option."

you scoff at the claim, briefly loosening your grip. "no, you also have the option of leaving me alone." you argue, stepping further into the room. "besides killing you, we don't have any business to discuss."

"is that so?" makarov chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. you follow his gaze and land on your laptop. it's turned on again, with one of the pages detailing his personal history displayed on the screen. "you'll be very interested in what i have to say, lieutenant."

you bite your tongue, shifting your weight and dragging your focus back to him. "fine. tell me, then."

makarov straightens, his gaze flitting back to you. the edges of the keys dig into the skin of your palm, the bite of the cold metal keeping you grounded as he stalks toward you, like a predator approaching a prey animal. those alarm bells start going off in your head again, every instinct screaming at you to preemptively strike or run.

when he's a few feet away, you lunge. jabbing your keys forward, you try to hit one of the weak spots of his vest, aiming for the one of the gaps near the straps.

the training he underwent years ago is made readily apparent as makarov easily grabs your wrist and twists it, disarming you in one smooth motion. you try to use your other hand to break free, only to end up with both hands in his iron grip. you're spun around and shoved against the wall with your hands behind your back, trapped between your bodies.

you struggle, but that only encourages him to tighten his grip, firmly pinning your hands. he presses forward, using his own body weight to prevent you from fighting him off.

"you're predictable, petra," he mutters, the comment making you thrash against him. "you can't see past yourself– i am freely offering you information that your allies would die to gather themselves. take advantage of this generosity."

"i hate you," you seethe, writhing and trying to break free of his hold. he doesn't budge even a little, chuckling softly next to your ear as he leans in closer.

"good. i like that." makarov murmurs, his voice low and controlled, warm breath fanning over your skin. heat floods through your veins when he speaks, which you attribute to anger towards him.

until he nudges you again, his upper body falling almost perfectly in line with the curve of your back, his hands loosening slightly and providing your red-marked wrists with some relief. it just now occurs to you how close he is, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your spine forcing your own staggering breathing to calm itself and match his. his cropped hair tickles the side of your ear as he hovers next to you, his side profile visible in the edge of your vision.

you bite your tongue again, though for a different reason than earlier. holding any feelings but hatred and contempt for your enemy - you might as well mark yourself as a traitor if that happens. you can't allow yourself to fall for the games that he's definitely playing with you. the task force needs you, and they need whatever intel makarov can provide you with right now.

"i can be civil," you concede, barely above a whisper. "i won't attack if you don't." you add a moment later, pursing your lips.

you can see the edge of his lips twitch from the corner of your eye. makarov releases your wrists after a beat and steps back, giving you enough space to turn around and face him, pressing your back flat against the wall.

"do you trust the commander of shadow company?" he asks, bluntly. you narrow your gaze, huffing at the thought.

"graves? not by a longshot. i can trust him enough to shoot your guys before he shoots me, but that's it." you reply in an equally blunt tone.

"do you believe he is attached to the general's plans?" he says, and you deliberate before shaking your head. it wouldn't make sense, given graves' recent allyship with urzikstan. makarov continues, appearing satisfied with your answer. "you're correct. the shadow is not aware of shepherd's plans any more than your team is."

"how does this help me?"

"you will need him to cooperate in order to take down general shepherd," makarov asserts. you tilt your head curiously, urging him to elaborate. "which means, unfortunately, that you will have to work with him. my men can handle the general's lap dogs, but commander graves is the only person that can locate the general himself."

of course. your catalogue of enemies that you have no choice but to work with just keeps expanding.

"i see." you mumble, fingers twitching at the prospect of working with graves. tolerating his soldiers is one issue, but the commander is a whole other ballpark. "i still don't understand– why are you giving me all of this?"

makarov finally tears his gaze from yours for the first time since you separated. he walks over to the front door, right next to your spot against the wall, and unlocks it with a small twist of the lock. he turns toward you, though his eyes do not lift to yours again.

"the enemy of my enemy is my friend," he utters, swinging the door open. "we'll be in touch. do not ignore me next time i contact you."

you nearly miss his eyes flicking up to your face, the action so short that it feels like a trick of the light. he walks out of your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud, stopping you from watching him as he disappears into the night. you don't think you want to know where he goes, but one thing that you can say for certain is that it won't be the last you see of him.

you'll be seeing him even sooner than you can imagine.

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @k4rthon, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

[sc0tters]

Lover Boy | Ethan Edwards

summary: after a stressful day Ethan has the perfect way of coming to the rescue and giving you a moment to relax.

song: Lover - Taylor Swift

request: yes/no

warnings: none

word count: 650

authors note: when I say that I had no clue how to write this, I had NO clue. Like not a single thought went through my mind. I won’t lie, this is shit but it’s here and even the poorly written ones deserve love. If you want to see the celly that this was apart of you can view the playlist here!

Pure bliss was how you described your relationship.

Ethan and you had been dating since the summer before senior year and after being best friends you two only grew closer when you both moved to the University of Michigan.

It was almost written in the stars how much you two were destined to be together. Out of all of the universities you apply to umich was the only one you wanted to actually go to and it was after you got your acceptance letter that Ethan joined the wolverines for hockey.

As a couple you always found a way to have your schedules merge for you two to see each other. But this week it was feeling a bit rough for your relationship with how stressed you had been.

Ethan rocked up to your room as it was late after a night time training session and he was surprised to see that you were still awake “what have you been up to?” He asked as he saw the scattered papers on your floor and your guitar that was on your bed. It had been a long week of near nonstop work for the music course that you were in.

The boy ultimately came to check up on you but he wasn’t going to tell you that “just been working,” you explained as you let out a sigh.

Your hands were sore from the amount of times you had strung the strings on your guitar “I should get back to it,” you added as you knew that you were only going to get less time with more work to do.

It caused Ethan to scoff “you can take a five minute break,” he pointed out as he ran his finger over the callouses that were on your fingertips as you had over played your guitar.

Complaints from you fell on deaf ears as the hockey player stood up “just hear me out on this baby.” He spoke softly as he held his hand out to you.

You gave him a testing look “not taking no for an answer.” The boy added causing you to finally listen to him.

His hand grabbed yours as he begun to play your favourite song on his phone. When the Lover album was released you dragged Ethan into your car as you drove around your home town letting you two listen and as you stopped at your favourite place in Edmonton Lover the song began to play. It sure sounded cheesy but Ethan realised that he loved you as you hummed along to the song letting yourself squeal as you gushed about how cute Taylor’s relationship was with her boyfriend.

So as Ethan held you as you two slowly danced around your messy dorm it helped you feel at ease. It was hard not to as you only had the space to look at the boy who filled your heart with love.

The hockey player let his hands go to your hips as you two just swayed along to the beat of the song.

This moment reminded you of all of the reasons why you loved your boyfriend, he had the ability to make your shitty days feel bearable.

Ethan smiled as he could see that you were thinking about something “what’s on your mind pretty girl?” He asked as he cocked his head.

You cracked a grin “how much I love you,” you mumbled as you leaned up to kiss him. It was comforting as he dropped his head to kiss you back.

The boy should have been embarrassed with how he felt like a school boy when you said that “well it’s a good thing I love you too.” He smiled as he pecked your lips once more as the song changed to the next one on the playlist that you two had.

This was the best break you could have asked for.

[lewkwoodnco]

Can I make you a request about Anthony Lockwood based on the song “So American” by Olivia Rodrigo🥺😭

so american! - Lockwood x Reader

when he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so american oh god it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much I’d go anywhere he goes when he says I’m so american oh god I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up i might just be in la la la la la la la la la love

a/n: this fic has been rattling around in my head for a couple of weeks now and I was soooo double minded abt writing it so THANK YOU for the ask!!!!!! might not have written it otherwise heheh also I’m sooo proud of how my gifs turned out it was so fun to colour them all guts themed 😍😍 I hope you enjoy!! <333 also im having issues w the keep reading button AGAIN so sorry :(((

warnings/tropes: lockwood and reader are already in an established relationship, fluffy fluff, veeerrry small sprinkling of angst but happy ending! domestic sweetness

word count: 3.3k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

“Ready?”

Lockwood ducked into the car's passenger seat, grinning at the sight of her comically desperate expression. George and Lucy were fussing in the backseat, mainly because of Lucy’s seatbelt, or lack thereof, and they didn't seem to notice his arrival.

“Just wear the fucking seatbelt.”

"I'll be fine, George."

"She got her license at 16. 16! They just let anyone drive all willy-nilly up and down the roads in America."

Lucy gave him a look. He finally gave up and tugged at his own seatbelt sceptically, muttering darkly under his breath.

Lockwood & Co. was much more than a psychical investigation agency. Outside of their working hours, each member liked to work on some kind of passion project. After not having driven for over a year since she got her driving license in the States, she had decided to apply for one in London. Luckily, her employer had gallantly offered to provide her with the lessons she badly needed, having been the first of the three to earn his license. Well, employer and boyfriend. 

Her mother could hardly believe the news and, frankly, so could she. In a lot of ways, having an English boyfriend was vastly different from having an American one. First, there was a slight communication barrier, given how terrible she was with accents. Then there were the differing preferences - Lockwood seemed forever ready for a cuppa at any time of day, whereas the only kind of tea she really enjoyed was iced tea. Still, these differences left gaps for lingering gazes and silences that stretched on a little too much, and somewhere in between she slipped her hand into his, and the rest was history. 

Lockwood turned away to buckle his seatbelt.

"Okay, your seatbelt on?"

"Yes."

"Ready to go?"

"Hang on," came George's peeved voice from behind them, "you're not going to brief her first?" The two of them stared at each other blankly. 

"Uh, Y/N, do you remember how to drive?"

"Sure." It was one of those things you never forget, like riding a bicycle. Sure, it had been a while, but how hard could it truly be?

"Brilliant. Now-"

George pulled himself forward between the two front seats, straining against his seatbelt. “We don’t drive on the right side here. We drive on the left side of the road. Left. Left.”

She glanced at her rearview mirror which outlined the line of cars behind them parked on the left side of the street.

“No. You don’t say.”

Lockwood coughed, poorly concealing his laugh as he craned his neck towards the backseat windows. "Right, all clear. I think we can move of-"

"Parking brake."

"Er, right, what George said. Disable the parking brake first."

“I’ve never driven with a parking brake before.”

“So you push in this metal bit, like so,” said Lockwood, gently manoeuvring her fingers into the right grip, “and then pull it up a little, and then bring it all the way down.”

She tugged at it in frustration. “I -it’s not working.”

“Lockwood, did you tell her to step on the “

“Step-on-the-brake-while-doing-that-yes I was just about to say, George. I think I know how to teach someone how to drive. Unless you’d like to take over?”

"Oh, please. You couldn't pay me to sit in the front seat with that maniac driving."

She got her parking brake down, checked her mirrors, and they were off. For a minute there it was quite enjoyable, trundling through the mostly empty backstreets of London. Lockwood even tried to prop his feet on the dashboard before getting badly told off by George. He was forever propping his feet up at the slightest chance - at the Archives, at home, and now here. Maybe it was all part of some innate desire to be a wheelbarrow.

And so, things were going perfectly rosy, until she faced her first real challenge - oncoming traffic. As soon as the car heading towards them came into plain enough view, the four of them went into hysterics. The road was just narrow enough to make overtaking a little too tricky for her abilities at the moment.

“What do I do? WHY isn’t he slowing down?”

“Don’t panic, it’s alright. Stop a little to the side.”

She cursed, fumbling for the brake pedal her foot had carelessly slipped off of. Lockwood was nervously watching the car get closer and closer to them.

“Now would be a good time to stop, Y/N. Brake! BRAKE!”

They shot ahead sharply, swerving right sharply, narrowly missing the car passing them. Lucy swore loudly and George gripped the car grab handle above him as he started scolding no one in particular. 

"NOT THE BRAKE!”

Lockwood gripped the steering wheel over her hands, frantically trying to steer them to safety. With some difficulty, she shifted her foot back to the right pedal and slammed the brakes. There was a bit of a scuffle in the backseat, including George going off on Lucy in a very ‘I-told-you-so’ tone.

At the front of the car, Lockwood and she were still frozen, reeling from the past very exciting 30 seconds. Her eyes settled to where his hands were still resting on hers, tightly pinning her fingers to the steering wheel.

“Your hands are so warm.”

He peeled them off almost instantly, and she was sorry she brought it up in the first place. “Yeah, well, they’re panicking, just like the rest of me. What the bloody hell was that? I thought you said you knew how to drive!”

“I do know how to drive.” She bit back a smile at the sight of her 180 cm tall boyfriend trying to catch his breath with his hand dramatically splayed across his chest, muttering something about Americans handing out licenses to just about anyone.

The drive back to the rental car agency was much less eventful. After returning the car, they trudged back up the road to Portland Row. As they hung their coats up, she met his thoughtful gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He drew in a breath and hesitated. “You look nice.”

“Is this some convoluted way of patting yourself on the back for your fashion choices?”

“So you agree? You think you look nice?”

She groaned. She should have known no good was going to come from showing Lockwood Mean Girls. Still, it was hard to stay mad for long at a face like that. "You’re such a nuisance. A…delightful one, arguably, but still a nuisance.”

"You find me delightful?"

"That's your takeaway?”

"Next thing I know you’ll be saying you fancy me.”

“I’m literally wearing your shirt right now.”

“Luce!” He turned and started down the hallway. “Y/N says I’m delightful!”

As usual, the four of them reconvened in the kitchen a little after lunch for a tea break. Well, the four of them minus Lockwood, who had been bullied into fixing a plumbing issue in the basement. They sipped their tea and chewed their biscuits in silence. She wished she could bring down a little for Lockwood.

“Maybe I should go see if he needs some help.”

“No!” George nearly upset his tea, which made Lucy choke on her biscuit. “ Don’t go down there. You’ll distract him, he won’t get shit done, and that’ll be one more week without hot water for me.”

So she sat back down sulkily, brooding over her tea, until another topic of conversation struck her.

“Speaking of Lockwood -“

“- no one’s mentioned Lockwood-“

“-did you guys see the socks he was wearing today?”

Lucy and George didn’t even try to muffle their groans.

“They were very nice socks! They had the most precious pattern of baby ducks against a darling blue backgr-“

She stopped short as Lucy reached across the table to grip her hand.

“Y/N, I say this with love, but if I have to hear one more word about Lockwood, or his stupid bloody socks, I am going to ram a fork into my eye.”

She blinked, confused, and scoffed. “Gosh, you guys are so overdramatic. I don’t talk about him that much.”

George and Lucy exchanged a look.

“Okay, so maybe I like my boyfriend and I enjoy talking about him. Is that really so bad?”

Lockwood rescued all of them from the siege of George’s response by walking in right then, holding a wrench and looking a little worse for wear, but appeared very pleased with himself.

“Fixed!”

“Finally.”

Lucy frowned at the clock above the stove. “Isn’t that client meeting at Tooting today?”

Lockwood’s smile slipped right off as he glanced at his watch and rushed out of the kitchen, muttering furiously. His simple black leather watch which complemented his wrist so perfectly-

“Y/N! Time to leave!”

Maybe George and Lucy had a point.

Once their client meeting had finished, she and Lockwood stood on the pavement outside the house, looking for cabs to flag down. It was a balmy evening, and a cloudless sky meant they could enjoy the warmth of the setting sun beating down on them. She squinted down the road while Lockwood pulled something out from his coat pocket.

“For a job well done this morning and at the meeting…” he revealed two pieces of tightly wrapped square candies sitting on his palm. “A little treat.”

She stared at the candy for a moment, thinking hard.

“Caramel! I just remembered.”

“…what?”

“That’s what we call it in the States. A caramel.”

“It’s made of caramel, sure-“

“Plural is caramels.”

He made a strangled sound from the back of his throat. “Changing an uncountable noun into a countable one? That’s just lazy.”

“Fine. What do you call it?”

“Toffee.” The vowels rolled off his tongue like silk in that English accent that had made it difficult to fully concentrate from day one. Standing next to him, watching him gently and methodically unfolding the golden wrapper, shining and glinting like a beacon of light…maybe this was all she needed to be happy.

“Taw-fee?”

He pulled a face at her exaggerated American drawl, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as he pried apart the stuck halves of the toffee. She watched him visibly relax as the first tangy notes hit his tongue, her own half close to melting in her palm under the brunt of the setting sun. He met her gaze and gave a faint smile, almost reflexively covering her hand with his own.

“God, you’re so American. So, which is it? Toffee or caramel?”

She bites into what's left of the soft treat she's scraped off her palm. It's warm and comforting and she instantly feels a little more happy. Maybe it's the candy, or maybe it's the boy whose side is pressed into hers. Love, she decides. It's love.

“How many cups of tea have you had today?”

As idyllic as the weekend had been, they were back to their usual busy routine which meant that their evening tea break was the first time they’d see each other since breakfast. She had just walked into the kitchen where Lockwood was seated at the kitchen table, pouring over a mess of papers with a cup of tea to the side. One of the first things she had learnt about Lockwood was his near-debilitating addiction to tea. Now, he silently took a sip from his mug and she gave an exaggerated sigh, settling into the opposite end of the table.

“You really drink too much caffeine.”

He quirked his lips into a lopsided half-smile -/ he peered at the papers she had spilled onto the table. “What’s all…” he gestured to her papers with his mug, “…that?”

“The Rotwell agents give me hell for my American accent when they’re on duty at DEPRAC.” She held up her list of words dolefully. “‘Least I can do is pronounce things right.”

He slid into the chair next to her, taking a look at the list. “Which one are you at?”

“Pri-vacy. Pri...vacy. Nope, can't do it.”

“Of course it sounds weird when you say it like that. Try using it in a sentence.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. If I have to say ‘pri-vacy’ one more time, I’m running you through with my rapier."

Lockwood choked on his tea.

"...or, you know...'pry-vacy' sounds perfectly fine."

She gave him a brief smile. “Anyway, I’ve got to do a Satchell’s run now. Lucy says we’re out of flares. Don’t wait up for me.”

It took her a decent amount of time to collect all the supplies they were out of stock on, yet when she returned Lockwood was still sitting in that same chair, staring at the same papers with worn-out eyes, distractedly tugging at his hair. He barely looked up when she walked in, mystified.

“You’re still up?”

He rubbed his face firmly. “I can’t…I can’t figure this out.” She took a closer look at the papers. There were reports dating back two centuries on the house of one of their upcoming cases.

“The investigation is tomorrow and I have no idea what or where the Source could be.”

“Well…maybe George’s figured it out.”

“If he did, he’d be home by now.” He hunched over the papers once again, his head swaying dangerously close to the table, and she was instantly reminded of how exhausted Lockwood had looked that morning. As if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. She started stacking some papers together.

“It’s getting late. We should head to bed.”

“But I’m not done yet.”

“You can continue in the morning, but right now, you need to rest.”

His features hardened like he was ready to start a fight, but it lasted all of half a second before they caved to exhaustion. He looked like a drenched cat left out in the rain, with his hair messed up and in disarray.

“George is still at the Archives. What kind of a boss would I be to go to bed now? What kind of a…friend?”

Lockwood leaned back in his chair, briefly pressing a hand to his eyes and then his forehead, his forearm trembling ever so slightly. In the dim light of the kitchen, he seemed more skeleton than Man with his malnourished pallor and the scar on his lip being carefully outlined by a shadow. She ran a hand through his hair, down his neck, all the way to his shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re human, too.”

He gave a deep sigh. “Fine. I’ll come in a while.”

“Promise?”

He gave a jerky nod. The tea in his mug had gone stone cold by then, and so she brewed him a fresh cup. He looked up, confused, as she placed it next to his papers.

“What about the caffeine?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and combed down the hair sticking up all haywire, as if she hadn’t heard him. “What about it?”

He smiled faintly and gave the hand on his shoulder a light squeeze, and returned to his work with his eyes humming with a little more energy.

Later that night, she dreamt that he was falling, and she was losing her mind trying to save him.

She should have known nothing was going to right in the job from the very beginning. None of them had been able to find much information on the house, and they were running late, so tempers were running very high. Even during the case itself, they were forced to split up and fumble through improvised plans. That was until she had stumbled onto Lockwood frozen at the basement door, looking down into the darkness in a strange way. 

Go back, he had said. I don’t know what any of us can expect in this place. So I’ll come with you, she had replied. Or let’s wait for George or Lucy. I can’t. Why not? It’s different. I don’t have the time to explain it. Different how?

You’re more important.

The look on his face was more foreign than the house itself.

Now they were home, back at Portland Row. Lucy and George had sensed something was off and retired to their rooms. Lockwood headed towards the kitchen, and she followed him. He hadn’t spoken a word since her face had blanched at the sight of him poised at the basement’s entrance. She tugged at the ends of her hair. She could feel an argument brewing and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Are you okay?”

Lockwood continued rummaging through the refrigerator for his routine drink of orange juice, taking his time to reply. “Don’t I look okay?”

“Yes. No.” He was terribly confusing. “Why did you say you weren’t important?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said you were less important.”

He finally twisted the cap off the carton with his trembling fingers. The case had shaken all of them up, but for some reason, he was trying to hide it.

“Well…it’s not not true.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I’m a figurehead, Y/N. I represent the agency, that’s my name on the plaque out there, but that’s about it. You, Lucy, George…you’re the soul of the agency.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If…heaven forbid, something were to happen to one of us…”

Oh, he was so aggravating. She massaged her temples. She was going to punch him soon if she wasn’t careful.

“…the lot of you’d be better off without me than anyone else, and-“

"Oh god, shut up already!"

Lockwood abandoned the carton and straightened, and they glared at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen. “Or what? You'll shoot me?"

His expression softened only marginally when he saw how close she was to tears. She shook her head.

"If you pull another stunt like this...I might just have to marry you.”

“I’d have to marry you so that you can look down at your bloody hand and remember that there are people out there who would be nothing without you.”

“Y/-“

“Shame on you, Anthony J. Lockwood. Do you think George wouldn’t care about losing his best friend? Or Lucy? Or me? Hm?”

The tears had started to trickle down her face, and he walked towards her with a sympathetic expression, any and all rage long forgotten, and offered her his handkerchief. She could barely manage a weak glare before caving and accepting it, wiping away at her face. As soon as she was done, she wrapped her arms around him, and he enveloped her in a warm hug that smelled faintly of vanilla.

“That was a…a terrible thing to say, Anthony.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty shitty job then. I’m worried about you every day.”

She felt rather than saw his smile, though he could perfectly picture it in her mind - uneven and tipped to the right, but perfectly sincere.

"Also, I'm pretty sure that shooting remark counts as xenophobia."

"Yes, I'm hugging you very xenophobically now."

She buried her face into his chest and scrunched her nose hard. It was moments like these that only cemented her faith that she was never going to find somebody who made her feel the way Lockwood did. Seeing him standing outside the basement, she didn’t even need to think about what to do next. It had become incredibly instinctual - her readiness to take his hand and hurtle into the latest oblivion, blind as a bat. It didn’t get more simple than this: she just wanted to be wherever he was. 

It was him and her, and her and him - Portland Row’s cripplingly disaster couple, Mr A.J. Lockwood and Miss Americana.

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[deartouya]

i like you a latte | denki kaminari.

denki kaminari's determined to make you fall in love with him, cheesy one-liners and all, even if it takes months and puts him in debt. little does he know he's already won you over, you just like watching him fumble.

pairing: denki kaminari x gn!barista!reader

word count: 1.3k

content: reader has a job!, mentions of food/eating, lots of fluff, denki's cheesy but it's fine bc he's cute

hehe do you like my very clever pun ?? i think writing this made me realize i'm a little in love with denki </3 he's a charming dork idk. written as part of @cup-of-fluff's time to shine collab !! ty so much for hosting ^-^ this was soso much fun to write,, im sorry for being a whole month late ;—;

You’re beginning to think Chargebolt doesn’t have any friends. At least, you would if you hadn’t seen him sitting at their crowded table—Red Riot, Alien Queen, Deku, Ingenium, Cellophane, even Dynamight makes the occasional, disgruntled, appearance—his elbows planted in their sides and smiles splitting their faces. Or a poorly hidden grin in Dynamight’s case. But, you reason, he must not like them very much with how much of his time is spent alone in the cafe. Always in the same spot, the same order, with the same barista: you.

So, he has friends. He’s just decided to spend all his precious free time drinking over-priced lattes and eating equally expensive cheese Danishes. Sometimes he brings a binder, thick with unorganized papers and what looks like incredibly important reports, but he never even opens it—too busy monopolizing your company and stretching over the little cafe table to get your attention. 

You can’t really complain, though. He always attracts a crowd, even with an incredibly inconspicuous cap pulled over his eyes, which means more orders and more tips and more money. You also can’t deny that you’re just the tiniest bit amused with him, all with his cheesy smiles and jokes and flattery. 

Which, he’s not nearly as skilled at as the press pretends. Pro Hero Chargebolt, with his bolstering reputation as a flirt with—reportedly—never-ending charm never fails to come up with the most nauseatingly cheesy café puns. Puns which have, regrettably, endeared you to the Pro.

“Just admit it, you’re in love with him! Y’know it’s healthy, everyone is in love with at least one member of class 1a,” Izumi’s wrought with faux consolation, “it’s human nature, inevitable even. And most people don’t have them sitting in the front of their shop every week.”  

“I’m not in love with him,” you huff, sounding too much like a petulant child for your liking. Izumi’s tease isn’t new either, ever since Denki first showed up during one of your shared shifts, she's been insufferable. 

“That’s not what your eyes say—they get all hazy and lovesick when he’s ordering,” Izumi says, voice high and sing-songy as she finishes clearing the last table, “and I think your chargebolt keychain says otherwise too.” 

“You bought me that.” She doesn’t falter under your glare, though, smile only widening as she perches on the counter, chin cradled in her palms. “And you’re just hoping if he keeps coming around, he’ll bring Ingenium with him.” 

A forlorn look suddenly passes over Izumi’s face as she remembers the one and only time he visited, a time she wasn’t even working, “and alas, it’s only happened once.” 

“I’m not in love with him. He’s a good Pro Hero and I respect the work that he does.” She scoffs a laugh, earning a very pointed stare, “now, back to work—if you burn my muffins, I'm making you re-bake them.”

It ends the conversation—Izumi disappearing back into the kitchen, palms raised and facing you with a grin—but it settles deep and heavy in your mind. Her words repeat themselves to you throughout the day and into the next. You’d gotten used to Denki being there, to all his cheesy flirts and smiles. So used to them you’re not sure what a week would be like without them. Some selfish part of you hopes you never find out.

“They’ll work on you someday,” Denki catches your eye as you pass, the rest of the cafe quiet and empty. He’d been there since his morning patrol, entertaining the same blueberry muffin and attempting to fold his napkins into paper cranes. He was getting better at it despite the little stack of lopsided and half-formed birds.

He smiles, as bright as the dying sun streaming in through the cafe’s open windows. He watches you clear the table next to him, eyes trailing the slope of your nose and the subtle curve of your smile. His grin broadens when you scoff to hide your grin. 

“Don’t you have t-shirts and headshots to sign, hero?” You can’t help the way you chew at your lip, fighting off the warmth bubbling there. He’s right, it’ll work on you, it is working on you. His voice calling you brew-tiful haunts you everytime you make a chai latte. He’s sunny and determined and you can’t help the way you relish the whole of his attention being focused on you. “You’ve had three tables staring at you the entire hour you’ve been here.”

“I’m not trying to woo them, I’m trying to woo you,” it’s a simple sentence, but it's the way he says it that gets to you. Sure and just a little exasperated—like it’s obvious he’d rather watch you clear tables for the next hour than anything else. “Is it working?”

Denki’s grinning again—wider, brighter, and utterly charmed by himself—from where his cheek is squished into his fist and you can feel the way your pulse stutters. He’s charming, disarmingly so, bundled in some obscure graphic t-shirt and bright pink puffer, jeans marked up with lightning bolts you’re pretty were done by him, he’s pretty. Prettier than you’d ever admit to his face, you think his ego’s plenty big enough.

“Maybe,” your voice is drawn out and teasy, hiding any nerves as you move to clear the last few tables of cups and pastry platters, “maybe not.”

Denki’s face warms just a bit in the way it always does when you tease, cheeks splitting with the force of his grin as he—somehow—leans closer. He watches you disappear behind the counter, picking through what's left of the muffins and danishes to reemerge with a square of cake—bright and citrusy in a way which always reminds you of him.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” he fumbles with the words despite saying them every week, a stack of manilla folders and binders, the same ones he’d been using as an arm rest, decidedly not working, are stuffed under one arm. He smiles and you’re reminded of spring and the warmth of the sun on your face, “rain or shine.”

“I know. I can’t wait.” You return his grin, lifting the slice of cake, now nicely wrapped and ribboned, “for the road.” The road being his half a block walk back to his apartment, though you know he’ll probably still have the slice eaten before he gets there.

Denki’s fingers brush against yours as you hand off the box. A chill runs up your spine at the contact. His hands are always warm, he’s always warm and this close you can smell the familiar citrusy warmth of his cologne. The thought makes you want to hold his hands, wonder what they’d feel like laced with your own.

You shake the thought with a smile, ignoring the little hitch in your chest when he turns to leave, forcing yourself not to watch him and hoping he’d find your note once he got home.

The note, written neatly on a slip of construction paper a week ago, is tucked into the top of the box. You’d written it the day after Izumi had teased you, hiding it beneath the tip jar and hoping that you’d work up the courage to slip it to him. ‘ I like you a latte too, hero. just make sure to save some of those lines of yours for the date ;)  

xxx-xxx-xxxx 

You think he forgot how glass works, pausing in front of the shop's corner to pump a jittery fist, the one still clutching your napkin and number—full and happy. The sight startles a laugh out of you. Denki’s head whips up to find you—face flushed and beaming—and he makes a show of waving the notecard in his hand.

[bettsfic]

The cost of dreams

I decided a while ago that I would pursue publishing. But with constant critiques of my process and myself as a writer I feel like I’ve run my well dry. I no longer feel like I have a story to tell or that when I do come across something, I no longer feel that I’m good enough to tell that story. I have come to a point where I don’t write at all now.

I naturally have high standards for myself and as I worked to improve my craft and began to follow new authors who have gotten deals or have been agented, I’ve begun to feel like I’m not good enough. Like I’ll never get my work to be as good as my faves or that I’m too slow in my writing process, that’s why I’m not querying yet. Just spirals of thoughts that shoot at one’s confidence.

I felt like I was doing everything that a person who wants to be a professional writer should do. Have a set writing routine(write every week or have set word count goals every month), outline(not that there aren’t professional writers who are amazing pantsers but this was what I felt like I needed to do), and constantly pick at your story until it’s “perfect”.

I’m constantly worrying about what is my most authentic work, if all my work needs to have a big meeting, whether I should write contemporary, because a” good writer” can write in all genres.

I should just be able to handle the pressure and keep pushing. Writing isn’t always fun and if it’s my dream maybe there just need to be some sacrifices. Idk, maybe I’m just rambling.

I really don’t know what to do.

there are only two choices: you write, or you don't. if there's something you love as much as writing (not something you might love or have to search for, but some skill or occupation you enjoy just as much and gives you as much fulfillment), then go do that thing. you'll be able to write at the same time. maybe not as much, but you'll figure it out. if there's not, then the choice is made for you. you keep going, and all you can do is try not to look too far ahead. just look at the words as they arrive on the page and try to forget the big picture.

also, i don't know very many writers who publish in multiple genres. i don't even know very many writers who create narrators who aren't just self-inserts. most writers just write the same thing over and over again and package it in different ways. and if people like it, they keep selling it. remember that when you publish, you're creating a product to be sold. publication is a small thing that seems bigger than it is; the work is always what's important. finding joy in the craft is what's important. if you've lost that, your job is only to find it again. it can be your sole occupation, what you devote every second of your life to. there are few things greater than the pursuit of self-joy.

i'm sorry you're feeling this way though. i feel the same thing about 50% of the time, sometimes for months on end and sometimes just briefly. all the writers you're seeing with all their successes feel it too. i used to think there were a lot of things i could do with my life, and that if i put my mind to it, i could do anything. but the truth is that i can be okay at a lot of things that make me feel mildly accomplished, or i can try to be exceptional at one and find meaning in it.

but if none of this tracks, go read the books you're seeing deals for. read the book you're most envious of and see how bad it is. maybe not objectively, i mean it's probably decent, but i guarantee it will be flawed. or boring. or poorly written. or it may make you go, "how did this get published?" or, "i could do this better." most of this feeling you're having is fear that you're not good enough, and the way to face that fear is to read stuff that sucks. one of two things will happen: you'll feel better about yourself, or you'll find a book good enough to teach you something new. as your writing improves, as you acquire more accolades, the former becomes far greater than the latter, until one day you're dying to read writing that kicks your ass.

[rerefundslocals]

BIG DEAL . JJK

Summary : lately you've been feeling lack of affection from your boyfriend and you decide to let it be. until your silence catches up with you.

>>pairing : idol!jungkook x fem!reader.

>>trope : established relationship.

>>genre : angst, smut, fluff.

>>warnings/tags : softdom!jungkook, sub!reader, sad confrontations, crying, wall sex, one ass slap, unprotected sex, oral for one second (f recieving), teasing, dirty talk, cum tasting, sweet aftercare, they jus inlove.

a/n - yall juh vibe and enjoy this, I tried to write it up to par, but it was rushed and is poorly written, forgive me. No bam appearances. Maybe next time!

~★~

"It's not even that serious."

"Jungkook, it is. Stop arguing and fix it."

This is one of the most normal days in your life, non- stop bickering between you and your boyfriend, on the broken kitchen cabinet holding all the fragiles.

"Jungkook, don't go back and do karaoke, my mugs are suffering!" You exclaim, rubbing your forehead at frustration of your boyfriend walking away.

"Baby, come on. I'll do that tomorrow. I'm not even sane enough to hold a screwdriver." Of course he isn't. He just had some beer and is now singing out of his mind, and it doesn't usually annoy you, not when he's listening to you.

You sigh, your heart feeling heavy at his response and you wouldn't usually feel this way over a cabinet, but it's constant now, jungkook doesn't listen to you these days, doesn't even hug and kiss you like you'd like. Those gestures feel forced nowadays.

"Fine, Jk. Whenever you're ready." You don't miss the way Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion when you leave the room.

He wonders why 'Jk' and not 'kook', 'babe' or 'koo'.

Dropping the LG remote he walks behind you, and upon entering your shared bedroom, he finds you on the floor with your phone screen lit up in your face and it looks like to him, you're going through his and your album filled with all your pictures.

"Stop staring, Jk." He catches himself staring too long and perks up at your voice, reminding himself what he's here for.

"What's wrong, baby?" Its ridiculous isn't it? How he thinks he could waltz up in here and expect an immediate response, he should know by now or is he that insolent?

That's all that plagues in your head.

"Bab-"

"What don't you see? Hmm, Jk. You don't care anymore, never listening to me, not even paying attention to my needs anymore. But you have the audacity to ask what's wrong? I don't even want to talk anymore."

By the time you're done, your lash line is filled with tears threatening to spill and soil your cheeks. Jungkook takes note of it and gets on the floor with you, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring your face into his chest as you sob your heart out, too weak to push him away. Jungkooks tattooed hand pats your head lovingly as he whispers apologies, his own eyes burning at the tears threatening to spill.

"I-im so sorry, baby. You and I both know I'd never want to hurt you. Please forgive me. I love you so much." He doesn't expect a response immediately but he yearns it so bad. He want to hear you tell him you love him too.

Your chests are heaving against one another as you both cry your emotions out. Jungkook crying from the stress at work, the stress over you, stress from his bad habits, as he cries into your hair.

You cry on his chest, your tears making his shirt wet as you cry from frustration, crying from the touch you've yearned for weeks, crying because he loves you. He said it and it felt genuine as it swelled in your heart from weeks of not hearing it.

It's about 20 minutes later when jungkook feels your hands fisting his shirt and he knows what you mean, cause when he looks down, your wandering and red eyes are staring straight into his own red eyes and prominent bags.

You bring your hand up to his hair and you run your hand through his locks. You then force his head down to meet with your forehead.

Leaning up, your lips meet his slightly and ever so quietly you whisper to him, " Don't make me feel alone again. Listen to me sometimes and I'll listen to you. I'm here for you, Koo." And softly your lips meet his chapped ones.

Jungkook allows for you to take the lead, as you kiss him softly and ever so passionately, your hands running through his soft locks.

The kiss turns heated as you probe your tongue on jungkooks lower lip, urging him to allow your tongue and he does. His tongue meets your warm one and you swirl it around, doing it as you would a lollipop.

Your hands instinctively go lower as you pull jungkooks shirt above his head, your lips separating to allow the action. You dive back in for his lips but jungkook holds your cheeks in his hands, as his eyes roam your face underneath the bright mikrokosmas light.

"I love you,____, so much." And before you could respond with the same adoration, your being lifted up and your back meets the cold wall.

"Tell me you love me." Jungkook prodes as he removes your baby tee from the confines of your chest.

Your breathing is picking up as you're only getting wetter at the thought of being fucked against this wall, and jungkooks dominance showing out.

Jungkooks hand is toying with your tits and you throw your head back to moan, totally forgetting what jungkook had asked of you.

"Tell me or I'll stop,___."

"I do, Jungkook. I love you so much! So, Please touch me." Your hand guides his tattooed one to your clothed pussy, and jungkook complies, rubbing your clit on your spandex shorts.

"That's it, baby. That's all I wanted. Gonna fuck you now."

"Please~" you whine, feeling your high coming from just being rubbed through your shorts.

Jungkook chuckles at your desperateness, choosing to tease you even more as he peels off your shorts at a torturous speed, that is so so slow.

"Jungkook! Please!"

"Getting there, baby." And with a swift pull, both your shorts and thong are ridded off your body and you're left bare for jungkook.

Your pussy meets the cold air and a thin coat of sweat is on your collarbone and forehead from your desperation, you tell yourself to wait a little more as you watch Jungkook rids himself of his sweatpants.

But you can't. So you bring your fingers to rub your clit and the pleasure has you moaning exaggeratingly.

"Fuck! Kook!" Jungkook perks up and quickly brings his tip to your aching pussy, the hardness of his cock confining in your pussy walls.

In unison you both murmur a , "fuck!" Into the room.

As slowly as he starts, jungkook thrusts up into you as your hands come down to his hair, and your lips meet for a loving kiss as his thrusts become more sharper and faster.

"Mmh, such a tight pussy for me. And you always this wet? Tell me, baby." Jungkooks words are so dirty and urge your tummy to coil tighter as you feel your high coming.

Jungkook recieves a Moan as response and he isn't so happy, he just wants his good girl to tell him if she's so wet for him. What's so hard about that?

If only he'd know how his dick makes you lose your ability of speaking. But he doesn't when he lays a slap upon your ass, the sound filling the room along with your slickness on his cock, as it slips in and out of you with ease, the sound of Mac and cheese in the room.

"Answer me." You mutter a chant of 'fucks' as you lay your head on his sweaty shoulder, your high approaching.

"Y-yes, Koo- m' so fucking wet for you! I'm gonna cum! Sh-hit I'm gonna fucking cum." You mewl your sentence messily as a fucked out jungkook smirks at your legs going weak in his arms.

"Cum all over this cock, baby, wanna hear you cum." Jungkools gruff voice fills your ears as you bite down on his shoulder, your eyes hazy and watery at the sensation of cumming do hard.

Jungkook doesn't stop thrusting and youre moaning loudly and tiredly, awaiting jungkooks load in your pussy.

"Mmh, fuck! So fucking tight." His thrusts are sloppier and wetter, as the mix of your cum and his wet dick fill you up.

"Cum inside, kook. Fill me up." With a low groan, spurts of white fill your pussy as your feel it trailing down your thighs.

Jungkook came.

And it's so fucking thick. But with enough time to spare thinking about it. Jungkook peels your body off the wall as he brings you to the bed.

Quickly rushing to grab a wet cloth.

He comes back and places it on your swollen clit and messy pussy.

He backtracks, moving it away and taking initiative as he places his tongue on your pussy, licking up both yours and his cum off.

It catches you off guard as you let out a low moan.

Jungkook quickly finishes and he finally cleans you both up. Grabbing fresh clothes for you to sleep in.

When jungkook places you comfortably in the blankets, he turns to leave and your grabby hands pull him back.

"Koo, where you going?" Your eyes are fighting it at this point and jungkook chuckles at that, his smile genuine.

"I'm just going to switch off the TV and lights, okay? Be right back, angel."

And he's back before you know it, leaning over to switch off your side lamp.

Placing a long deep kiss on your forehead, jungkook promises to love you forever as you fall into deep slumber.

whispering the promise back into his chest, you finally allow sleep to take over you.

Do not copy my work. I'll find you.