#'i love writing' i say as i proceed to not write for months

[fleetsonourgecentral]

A request: Ebony celebrates Fleetway Super birthday along with the freedom Fighthers celebrathing Sonic's birthday (so Super and Sonic share a birthday celebration :D) but Scourge IS jealous because he doesn't get any gifts

Adfjdasfjds Scourge being jealous for petty reasons my beloved

~~~

"This doesn't seem fair," Scourge grumbled, folding his arms and glaring at his surroundings like he could set the decorations alight with his eyes alone. Unfortunately, getting zapped by the Master Emerald didn't seem to grant him those powers, but hey, it was always worth double checking.

"Life isn't fair," Sonic said, smug smirk fully plastered on his face as he lounged on his throne for the day. The throne in question was nothing more than an old armchair fished out of the dump, and was covered in rips and clearly falling apart, but it was clean (thanks to Tekno's efforts) and it was the nicest chair the Freedom Fighters owned, so they made do.

Scourge was surprised they were putting in the effort at all. Sonic's ego was so big it was a wonder his head didn't swell and become too heavy for his body to carry; there was really no need to stroke his ego by giving him a throne.

For some reason, though, the Freedom Fighters, despite usually being extremely enthusiastic about keeping Sonic's ego in check, had decided today was an exception. It was his birthday, after all.

"How did you even get all this?" Scourge said. Thankfully, none of the cheesy "happy birthday" banners had been strung up on the wall - those were dumped on Ebony's doorstep - but in their place were custom-made banners proudly congratulating the Hero of Mobius on another year of victory over Robotnik. Over the top and unnecessary, considering the victory in question was mostly just his continued survival, and thus his continued ability to be a future pain in the ass.

Not that Robotnik didn't have it coming, but still.

"We made them!" Tails chirped from where he was stringing up another banner, this one declaring today as Sonic Day. "Tekno designed most of the banner so it would look cool enough that Sonic won't complain, and then Amy and I helped decide what they should say, and then we all painted them together!"

"And you didn't invite me?"

"We both know you would've told us all to fuck off if we asked you to help," Amy said, although the teasing smile on her face showed her comment was light-hearted instead of irritated. Gross.

"These aren't new, anyway," Tekno said. "We made these before you arrived, so you couldn't have helped. Unless you found a way to time travel. If you find an easy way to time travel, let me know?"

"Sure, whatever."

And now that Scourge was looking, the banners did seem a little worn. Small rips on the edges, colors dulled, the paper crinkled; obviously reused over the years. He nudged one of the banners crumpled on the floor with his foot, then picked it up to inspect it, holding it with his thumb and forefinger. Sonic's painted winking face greeted him, and Scourge sneered at it. On the back of the banner, he could see a cluster of signatures. Some he recognised - Tails and Amy - while some he'd never heard of - who in the world was Shortfuse? - and some... well, some were just initials, none of which he recognised. He certainly didn't remember any friends of Sonic's who went by J.L.

"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?" Amy said, lightly elbowing him as she passed, snatching the banner from his hands.

"What's it look like? I'm gonna stand here."

"No you're not. Help Tekno bring the gifts in."

"I'm not participating in this. You do shit like this then wonder why he's an arrogant dickhead."

"Is it arrogance if it's justified?" Sonic said.

"Justify my foot up your ass," Scourge said, just as Tekno dragged him away.

The pile of presents was bigger than it had any right to be. The Freedom Fighters didn't have much money - apparently fighting for the safety of the entire fucking planet doesn't pay well, or at all, which is bullshit and all the more reason for Scourge to find the whole thing stupid - so none of them could really afford to go all-out with the presents, but the bulk of the pile came from local civilians who had caught wind of the celebration and wanted to express their gratitude. Over the past week during their travels, civilians would stop them, shyly handing over presents and telling them they were for Sonic's birthday, a token of their appreciation for constantly saving their asses, because they couldn't be bothered to do it themselves.

No one said that last bit out loud, but Scourge always made sure to mentally add it.

Why they couldn't express their gratitude with some fucking cash, he did not know.

"Grab the presents by the table?" Tekno said, scooping presents into her arms. For what it was worth, although the pile was bigger than one would expect, at least most of the presents were small.

Groaning with all the contempt he could muster, Scourge shuffled over to the table and started tucking presents under his arms.

"Did you drop off everything at Ebony's?" Tekno said. Her voice was low, hidden by the rustle of the presents, only loud enough for Scourge to hear. Not that he thought Sonic could hear them when they were out here, but better safe than sorry.

"Whaddya take me for? Of course I did," Scourge said, voice equally low, although that was more for Tekno's peace of mind than his own. She'd shush him if she thought he was being too loud, but she was also really bad at shushing people quietly, and ended up attracting attention with her shushes more often than not. It was really counterproductive. Scourge didn't know why Sonic had let it slide for this long.

"Just making sure."

Scourge grunted, but he did give the rest of the presents an obligatory once-over, just to be sure there weren't any that shouldn't be there.

Super's birthday fell on the same day as Sonic's. It was why all the cheesy banners had been dumped on Ebony instead of in the trash where they belonged. The Freedom Fighters - okay, mostly Tekno - thought it was a good idea to send a few presents over from all of them, as a gesture of goodwill and minor bribery to please not turn evil and try to kill them all again. It was a plan Sonic had been conveniently left out of; even with their less strained relationship (although that really wasn't saying much) it was blatantly obvious he still wasn't fond of Super. He wouldn't stop them from giving him birthday presents, or wanting to wish him a happy birthday, but he would wrinkle his nose and mutter a comment under his breath, which was apparently a problem, although Scourge hadn't figured out why.

Ebony had asked if they wanted to stop by, even tentatively offered a joint birthday celebration if that would make things easier, but she was swiftly turned down. Presents were a safe bet, the Freedom Fighters had agreed, because they could be dropped off at any time, and Sonic would never have to know, and they could wish Super a happy birthday without ever leaving Sonic's side on the actual day. And they could send Scourge to be their little delivery boy so none of them would have to do it; despite the olive branch, Tails and Amy were still wary of Super. Apparently Scourge and (somehow) Tekno were the only ones who weren't little bitches about him.

Well, Sonic wasn't a little bitch exactly, but he wasn't as cool and casual about Super as he wanted to be. So he didn't count.

"I'm just saying," Scourge said, hefting as many presents into his arms as he could, "if you're going to make the decorations look like a 'congrats on kicking ass without dying' celebration, we should all be getting presents."

"It's not your birthday, though."

"I'm his boyfriend, though. Shouldn't I get, like, a solidarity present?"

"No, because it isn't your birthday."

Scourge bit back a comment about how if Super got to have a birthday just because he was another Sonic, then logically, so should he. Because, well, it wasn't his birthday, even though all the celebration really made it feel like it should be. He thought birthdays for Sonics were the same across all dimensions - he was pretty sure he shared a birthday with Prime, eugh - but apparently not.

With another exaggerated groan, he shuffled back into the living room with the presents towering high above him, because second trips were for chumps, and dumped them at Sonic's feet. His own gift wasn't in there, but only because he'd already given it to Sonic this morning. The moment he woke up, in fact. Scourge wasn't about to be beaten by anyone in anything, including being the first person to give Sonic a gift.

Not that it was anything special. Scourge wasn't exactly rolling in money either, and Sonic was a pain in the ass to shop for. Humiliation had nipped at his heels when he handed the gift over, ready to burn him, but Sonic seemed to really like it - underneath the obligatory layer of snark - so it was fine.

Probably.

He eyed the pile of presents again, and tried not to gnaw on his lip.

Some of the civilians who gave them presents looked... well, not well-off, but comfortable. Not rich, not even close to rich, but able to at least afford something nice for the Hero of Mobius. More than Scourge could afford.

More than any of the Freedom Fighters could afford, though, and Sonic didn't really give a shit about his fans outside of the inherent bragging rights that come with having fans in the first place. None of those civilians knew what Sonic liked. The Freedom Fighters did. Scourge did.

He doubted any civilian signatures were on the back of the banner he picked up.

A party thrown by civilians probably wouldn't look like this at all. That would be far more elaborate, with more people pitching in to help, even more vomit-worthy banners and decorations hung from every wall and banister, singing the praises of Sonic the Hedgehog. Over the top, and licking his ass, and making a huge deal out of him. Exactly the kind of celebration Sonic would like; he always loved it when people lavished him with praise for his efforts in saving the world, the arrogant bastard.

Sonic didn't have any of that, this year. Oh, sure, the party would stroke his ego, but it wasn't lavish. Compared to what he could have, it was almost humble.

But. He didn't look upset by it. Didn't even feign annoyance that it wasn't as big as it could be.

Scourge couldn't remember any of his own birthdays looking like this growing up. No friends surrounding him, bickering as they hung birthday banners or fetched presents or argued over the cake. No shitty birthday chair fished out of the dump. No lavish party to sing his praises. His birthdays weren't humble like this one, but they weren't extravagant, either.

They were... cold. Empty. There was no soul in the presents, no warmth in the candle of the cake. No signatures on the back of a hand-made birthday banner.

Scourge swallowed down the ugly feeling in his stomach.

Whatever. He didn't need any of that shit. He was Scourge the fucking Hedgehog, he knew exactly how great he was. Who needed a giant party? Not him. He wasn't that fragile.

"Scowl any harder and your face will get stuck."

Scourge flipped Sonic off without even looking. "Eat shit, birthday boy."

"Are you sulking because Pixel Brain jumped on you this morning when he came to wish me a happy birthday?"

"He crushed my fucking ribs," Scourge complained, glad for something to focus on. The interruption had been rude, and Tails was fortunate they were already awake; had he done that shit while Scourge was still asleep, he would've gotten an ass full of quills.

"Right. And you're definitely not sulking because you wanted to cuddle."

"I don't cuddle."

"Bullshit you don't."

"I don't. You have no proof."

"Then you're gonna start."

Before Scourge could say a word of protest, Sonic grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him onto his lap.

"Fuck off and let me go," Scourge snapped, shifting to get comfortable.

"It's my birthday," Sonic said, smirking his stupid, smug, victorious grin. "That means you have to do what I say."

"I'm not doing shit, you can't tell me what to do, birthday or not," Scourge said, leaning further into Sonic when he wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

"You'll get the chair when it's your birthday, if it's any consolation."

"Fuck the chair! What about my presents?"

"We'll see."

"Asshole," Scourge grumbled, biting Sonic lightly on the shoulder to emphasize his point, but he only got an amused chuckle in return.

"You're getting off when the cake gets here," Sonic said.

Huffing, Scourge snuggled further into Sonic. They'd see about that.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter Warnings: reader vs IKEA furniture, 1k words about Yoongi's hands, second-hand embarrassment, more cracktastic internal monologues, a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 7k (approx. 30 mins to read)

Posting date: October 19, 2024

Notes: Very Yoongi-coded of me to work through my sickness. So, yes, behold an update, while I am in the throes of flu. Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Masterlist

Sometimes, the mediocrity in this office is just unbelievable. You’ve put in a request for a filing cabinet so that you can organize the copious amount of paperwork that’s been accumulating in your little space that has overtaken yours and Yoongi’s desks. That was two months ago. It finally arrives today, still in its flat box packaging.

Great.

You’ve been staring at the pieces of the Ikea furniture for what feels like an hour, trying to make sense of the instructions. Of course, they’re all diagrams and singular letters and numbers—just a bunch of arrows pointing to nuts and bolts that apparently hold this whole thing together.

Btw, where the heck is Yoongi?! He’s usually pretty punctual. Pretty and punctual. Hmm. Anyway…

Just as you’re about to abandon your unwanted task to write a strongly worded email to the procurement department, Yoongi strolls in your office, oblivious to the war inside your mind.

“You’re late,” you blurt.

Caught off guard, and wholly unused to your raging bitch tendencies, Yoongi looks like a deer caught in headlights, mumbling, “Sorry, I uh I just got this scooter and am still—”

Is he pouting? OH god…

“No, no…” you backtrack, not meaning to sound haughty at all. “You’re fine. I don’t really—sorry, I’m just in a mood.”

Yoongi nods, assessing the pile of rubble you are on, as he sets his helmet and bag on the desk. He takes a spot on the floor next to you, leans over to squint at the same set of instructions, and decides, “This shouldn’t be that hard.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a random board. “Yeah, says the guy who hasn’t tried yet.”

Wordlessly, Yoongi pulls the screwdriver from your hand and the nearest piece of wood, starting to line everything up. You expect him to struggle, because he’s an idol–LOL–he can’t be that good at this, maybe marginally better than you, but nothing to write home about.

Boy, you are so, so, spectacularly wrong. Chae would be laughing at you later that night as you recount this gross misjudgment on your part and would proceed to send you the link to Run BTS episode 148 and as you watch it in your bed with a sheet mask on you’d be like the fuck is wainscoting??

But for now, you are decidedly a non-believer, even as Yoongi moves through the steps with surprising ease, piecing it together like he’s done this a million times before.

“Hold this,” he says, passing you one of the boards to brace while he screws in the side panels. His fingers brush yours as he adjusts the position, and it’s then that you notice his hands.

Well, you’ve noticed his hands before, but this time it’s different. You watch as his long fingers grip the screwdriver, veins running along the back of his hand, disappearing beneath his shirt sleeve, flexing with every twist. It’s oddly mesmerizing—beautiful, if you’re honest with yourself. They look perfectly balanced between grace and ruggedness, bone structure firm, but the skin warm and soft.

God, those hands… Your mind flashes to places it shouldn’t, and you quickly look away. You clear your throat, as you wrestle with thoughts of those hands wrapping tenderly around your throat. 

Holy shit.

He’s completely focused on aligning the screws, while you’re completely unfocused thinking about how you’d very much like for y’all to screw.

Wow. You are a fuckin’ pervert. And so shit at double entendres.

As he continues to work, you can’t help but observe his fingers as they move with precision. Long, lithe, bony in all the right places. Delicate, yet also powerful. And then there are those lovely veins—they pulse slightly with each motion, as his fingers curl effortlessly around the tool like it’s second nature. 

It’s way too easy to imagine those hands doing something else entirely. Something that has nothing to do with Ikea furniture. Everything to do with you. Naked, ideally. Now, preferably.

OK Stop. Stop right now.

With a shaky exhale, you force yourself to focus on holding the cabinet in place, but the mental image is seared into your brain now. There’s something unfair about how attractive Yoongi’s hands are—how much control they have, how easily they move, how they make your brain go berserk.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you haven’t said anything for a minute.

He blinks blankly at you and doesn’t say more, just passes to you a handful of screws. You take them from him, swallowing the lewd thoughts racing through your mind.

As he finishes screwing the rest of the pieces together, his thumb grazes along the edge of the board, and your eyes trail after it like you’re hypnotized. You bite your lip, trying to focus on anything else. Anything but how good his hands look. Did you seriously just discover a fetish right now?

He shifts closer to tighten something, and you’re hit with the warmth of his body, plus the faint scent of his soap. Your heartbeat picks up, but you stay silent, pretending this is all fine, like you’re not on the verge of asking him to stop and just drag you to the back office closet to fuck.

Sweat is dripping down your neck at the sheer self control you are exercising at the moment. You need him to hurry the fuck up, because there’s already an uncomfortable wetness in your underwear and you need to deal with it stat. 

He inspects one of the wood pieces and knocks on it as if to test its strength and you study his knuckles, slightly prominent dappled with subtle brownish-pinkish marks perhaps from boxing.

Honestly, that’s so hot.

Yoongi finishes tightening one side and sits back, leaning on his hands, fingers splayed out on the floor. You glance down, and oof there they are again—those damn hands, long and elegant, resting on the floor like they’re mocking you. You wonder, just briefly, what it would feel like if those palms were pressed up against you, instead of the floor. Will those hands be gentle, rough, will he be the type to leave marks…

You’re staring. Definitely staring.

Yoongi clears his throat softly, and you snap your eyes up to his face. He’s watching you now, head tilted slightly, lips pressed into a line that looks suspiciously like he’s holding back a smile. There’s a knowing glint there—of course he’s caught you, but he’s not going to call you out for it.

“Want to hand me that last piece?” he asks, voice calm but with that little hint of amusement in it. He motions toward the final panel lying next to you, hand outstretched.

You quickly pass it to him, avoiding his gaze completely. His fingers brush yours when he takes it, slow, deliberate. 

Oh shit, he definitely knows.

He lines up the final piece of the cabinet and starts screwing it in, but there’s a shift in the air now. You force yourself to focus on what’s in front of you—on the fact that you’re literally just building a cabinet and not having an existential crisis over someone’s hands. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but he’s focused on the task again, his lips slightly parted as he concentrates. You catch yourself staring at his lips now and quickly look away before he can notice that, too.

Finally, he finishes tightening the last screw, sitting back to admire the completed cabinet. “There. Not so bad, right?”

You breathe out a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah. Thanks for saving my ass with this.”

Yoongi shrugs, wiping his hands on his slacks. “It was easy enough. I think you were just overthinking it.”

You roll your eyes, feeling more at ease now that the project’s done. “Well, maybe if I had hands like yours, I wouldn’t have struggled.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and your face ignites.

Fuckkkk stupid fuckk dumbass bitchhh

He glances at you, eyebrows raised, then looks at his hands, flexing his fingers like he’s just realizing what you’ve said. He’s silent for a second, and then, “My hands?” There’s that barely-there smirk on his face, subtle but unmistakable.

You scramble to recover. “You know what I mean,” you mumble, grabbing a stray screw off the floor, wishing it would just swallow you whole.

Mercifully, he doesn’t push it further. Just chuckles softly, leaning back against the wall, his gaze flicking to you for a beat longer. “You’re welcome,” he says simply.

He stretches his fingers one last time before stuffing them in his pockets. “They’re at your service, whenever you need them.”

Cheeky bastard.

“Yes, mom, I won’t be late,” you tell Chae as you tug your high-waisted leggings into place, your phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder.

“Ok. See ya!” 

Finally you smooth the fabric of your sports bra in the office bathroom mirror, turning slightly to check your reflection. The purple set hugs your body in all the right places, accentuating your curves and giving you that boost of confidence you hadn’t realized you needed. You’re not perfect by any stretch, but something about this fit makes you stand a little taller, feel a little bolder.

It’s after-hours, and the office is mostly deserted. You’d told yourself it’d be fine to walk back to your desk dressed like this—barely anyone’s around to notice. Yoongi left minutes ago, or at least you think he did. He never really stays after 5:30 p.m. except that one night he returned “for his ear buds” and even then he actually went home and just came back to get drunk with you, apparently.

As you step into the hallway, your dunks squeak faintly on the floor, echoing in the quiet. You glance around, feeling pretty damn good as you make your way back to your desk to grab your stuff before heading to Chae’s Pilates class.

But as soon as you open the door to your office, you freeze.

Yoongi is still there.

Standing by his desk, packing up, his head snaps up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes lock onto you, and for a second—just a second—they widen, raking over you in a way that’s anything but office-appropriate. His gaze drifts from your legs, up to your waist, lingering at the curve of your hips, then up to your chest, where the sports bra does more work than it has any right to.

You see the exact moment he tries to recover. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and he quickly looks away, busying himself with stuffing papers into his bag like they’ve suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.

Oh. Oh.

The corner of your mouth twitches. It’s almost funny, really—after all the teasing and the subtle suggestions, Yoongi finally looks like he’s the one caught off guard. Finally. You saunter further into the office, a booty-tooch here and there, pretending like nothing’s out of the ordinary, but inside, you’re fully aware of the power shift that just happened.

“Didn’t think you were still here,” you say casually, grabbing your water bottle from your desk. You make a show of bending just slightly, and when you look up, you don’t miss the way Yoongi’s stare flickers toward your cleavage before he quickly averts his gaze. His ears are a little red. Gotcha.

“I thought you’d left already.” He clears his throat. “You uh you got a class?”

“Mhmm…” You hum sweetly, tossing the bottle into your bag. “Pilates. My best friend convinced me to go. Free trial and all.”

Yoongi nods slowly, still not quite making full eye contact, like he’s trying really hard not to look directly at you again. The sadistic part of you wants to make it worse, just for shits—after all, didn’t you deserve a little revenge after the way he had you silently losing your mind over his hands the other day?

“So… what do you think?” You tilt your head, as if the answer to that question isn’t already written in big, bold letters all over his face.

Yoongi finally looks at you then, before darting back to his bag, his fingers a little too purposeful as they zip the bag shut. “About Pilates?”

“No,” you say, smirking. “About the outfit.”

It takes him a second to process that, and when he does, you swear you see his jaw tighten. He presses his lips together, trying to keep his cool.

“It’s… nice,” he says, the understatement of the year, and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to say more. 

“Huh.” You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip, the motion drawing his eyes back to you at the sliver of skin that just revealed itself. “Just nice?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time in the months you’ve known him, he looks rattled. Not by much, but enough to notice. You wait, feeling a surge of satisfaction, enjoying this just a tad too much.

He catches your gaze again, this time holding it for longer. His tongue drags across his bottom lip, the gesture slow, and finally, finally, he leans back against the desk, arms crossing as he gives you an appraising look. The faintest smirk pulls at his mouth, but it’s restrained, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. You are still in office premises after all, not in some club in Garosu-gil.

“You’re trouble,” he says softly, and the word hangs in the air between you. The same word you’ve used for him more than once—now, turned on you. “You know that, right?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a grin. It feels like a straight-up W, having him flustered, even for a moment. “Yeah?”

He lets out a tiny chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah.” His eyes drop to your legs again, another once-over. When they return to yours, they’re darker, more intent. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before replying, “Definitely trouble.”

You pretend to mull it over, playing with the front zipper of your sports bra. “I mean, you’re the one staring,” you tease, fully aware of what you’re doing now.

Yoongi’s grin returns, a little sharper this time. “And you’re the one who walked in here looking like that.” His voice rasps just slightly on the last words, and it’s enough to send tingles down your spine.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you jest, this time repeating one of his lines from the other night. He shakes his head again at you, clearly remembering it, too.

“Well,” you say, voice deliberately airy, “I should get going. Don’t want to be late for class.”

Yoongi nods, and his eyes follow you as you move toward the door. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little smug in the way he’s gawking at you. Man like him is used to being surrounded by gorgeous women, being in an industry that demands being perfect, and yet he seemed enamored by a perfectly imperfect you. How you like that?

Wow he’s still watching. Well if he wants this as spank bank material tonight, then by all means, you consent for him to stare. 

“Have fun at Pilates,” he says, his tone a little too even.

You pause at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a triumphant grin. “See you later, Yoongi.”

You have to admit, work has been pretty inspiring since you and Yoongi started hinting at your attraction to each other. Coffee breaks now feel like mini dates. Over steaming cups of latte (americano for him) that now tastes a little less shitty, your knuckles brush sometimes—just a quick touch, but neither of you pulls away. And even though it’s brief, it’s starting to mean everything. 

It’s becoming more obvious: you’re both opening up, letting each other in, swapping stories that are equal parts random and revealing. He tells you about the black cat he ‘borrows’ from a friend when he feels lonely. You tell him about your complicated relationship with your dad, how it’s still a work in progress. Each conversation feels like another layer peeled back, another step toward something deeper. Hopefully.

But then, of course, your inner saboteur decides to join the party. You start wondering what this really is for him. A way to pass the time, maybe, cause he’s just bored in the house. You know the kind of life Yoongi’s used to, but since he’s forced to step away, and here you are... just there, conveniently available. A little distraction. Maybe that’s all this is. You think about how easily he could pick you up like a little plaything and tickle you whenever he likes. Cos, damn, you know he knows that you are very much tickled.

He hasn’t asked for your number. And honestly? You don’t think you have the guts to ask for his. But it’s not even just about guts–you think you’re a plenty empowered woman. There’s the NDA—a whole ass contract hanging over your head, making sure you won’t cross. You’re stuck, confined to these small, controlled moments within the four walls of work.

And that’s what gnaws at you the most: you don’t know if this could ever become something real outside of this space. Your lives, your worlds—they’re just too different. 

Your Saturday looks a little different today. Tonight, you find yourself in Chae’s place of work. You’re wearing a pretty little dress, paired with cute heels that make you feel amazing, even if they pinch a little. Your hair is softly curled at the ends, one delicate pin securing it behind your ear on one side, leaving the rest to fall naturally. It’s simple but enough to make you feel put together, like you belong here, even if this whole scene is a bit fancier than your usual.

The soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses fill the air as you settle in at the bar, a glass of sparkling wine in hand. The lighting is low, giving the restaurant an intimate, almost cozy feel despite its sleek, upscale design. Dark wood tables, candles flickering on every surface, and the kind of velvet seating that makes you want to sink right in. It’s posh, but not stuffy—like the kind of place where you can have a real conversation without having to shout.

You take a slow sip of your drink, eyes drifting around the room. The bar is polished marble, gleaming under the soft pendant lights that hang overhead, casting a gentle glow on everything. The vibe is understated but undeniably chic, with just enough buzz in the air to remind you that this is a special night. 

You imagine Chae in the kitchen, totally in her element, probably yelling at someone to get the garnish right while she’s knee-deep in prepping plates. Too busy to talk, but that’s fine. You didn’t mind. You’re here for the food, the drinks, and to support her.

A guy, about your age, slides onto the barstool next to you. “Hey. You here for the friends and family thing, too?” he asks casually, although it’s obvious since it is a private event after all. You know he’s just trying to make conversation.

You smile politely, nodding. “Yeah, my best friend works here. You?”

“Cousin of one of the line chefs,” he replies. “No idea who most of these people are, but free food, right?”

You chuckle. He seems harmless enough—just someone to pass the time with while you wait for the meal to start. The conversation flows easily, touching on casual topics. Nothing too deep, but enough to make you feel at ease in the unfamiliar crowd.

Then, out of nowhere, a ripple passes through the room. You notice heads turning, subtle whispers growing louder as two men were ushered to a VIP section at the far end of the restaurant. You exchange a glance with the guy–Jungwon, curiosity piqued.

“Who’s that?” Jungwon asks, craning his neck slightly. “Some kind of celebrity?”

You squint in their direction, but couldn’t quite make them out. “No idea, but they must be, with that kind of posse.”

Just then, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance down, seeing a message come through.

Chae: fuck ur bf and my bf are here!!! Omgggg 

Your eyebrows shot up. You quickly type back:

You: Wtf are you talking abtt?!

But before you can get a response, you are ushered into the main dining area with the rest of the guests. The low lighting and beautifully set tables were designed for an intimate evening, and you found yourself seated at a small two-person table with Jungwon due to limited seating.

As you settle in, your vision drift towards the VIP section again, this time landing directly on someone you didn’t expect to see. Min Yoongi was sitting there with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh. Well, that explains the murmurs. The sudden shift in atmosphere. And Chae’s message.

You weren’t expecting this—him. Not here. Not tonight.

You tell yourself to look away, play it cool, but your eyes keep darting back, betraying you. Yoongi hasn’t seen you yet—thank God—but it’s only a matter of time. 

You’re hit with a wave of something—excitement? Nerves? Probably both. This was supposed to be a low-key night, a chance to support Chae and enjoy some free food and drinks. Instead, it feels like the stakes just shot up, like you’re tightroping between wanting to be invisible and being seen.

You take a steadying breath, flicking back to him one last time. He’s still talking with Jungkook, leaning back in his seat, completely unaware of the fact that your world just tilted slightly off its axis. 

Suddenly, Yoongi’s head turns, almost like he can feel your frantic energy. He sweeps the room, pausing when they find you. And for a split second, there’s something there—recognition, a softness in his expression, the kind of look that makes your heart stutter. His lips lift at the corners, like he’s about to smile, and for that brief moment, you let yourself believe in it.

But then, just as quickly, his gaze shifts. His expression cools, like a door closing in slow motion. The familiarity drains, replaced by something distant. Detached. He nods at you—polite, formal, like he’s acknowledging a colleague at a meeting. Nothing more. Before looking away.

Wow. That’s cold.

That tiny, hopeful flicker you’d felt just a moment ago? Gone. You weren’t expecting some grand gesture, but this? This feels like... nothing. Just a nod. Just formality. 

You shift in your seat, fingers tightening around the stem of your wine glass, feeling like shit.

Of course. Of course it’s like this. Why wouldn’t it be? Here you are, your first taste of seeing him outside your office bubble and your inner saboteur was right.

It’s disappointing, but not surprising. This was always confined to the office, wasn’t it? That’s where it was convenient. But out in the world, with people around and the difference of your class apparent? Just look–he’s in the VIP section and you’re… not. It’s different. He’s different. And maybe you are too, suddenly unsure of where you stand with him.

Was he annoyed? Uncomfortable that you’re here? You replay the moment in your head, trying to decipher the brief look on his face before it shifted. You’ve always had a tendency to overthink things, but still... that coolness in his gaze lingers in your mind, and you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed.

You glance away, pretending to focus on the glass in your hand, but the truth is, you don’t know how to feel. You don’t want to feel disappointed, but you do. And it’s hitting you harder than it should, because maybe, deep down, you wanted more.

But this is your first glimpse of what happens in the real world. And right now, it feels like you’re just two strangers in a crowded room.

The first course arrives, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you try to refocus, letting the taste of the food ground you for a while. You chat lightly with Jungwon, making small talk about the meal, the restaurant, anything that keeps your mind occupied. Every now and then, though, your thoughts drift back to Yoongi, to that cool, distant nod, and the wound in your heart expands. You try to shake it off, tell yourself it’s nothing, but fuck—it stings.

Your phone buzzes again with a message from Chae. You excuse yourself from Jungwon and pull your phone out.

Chae: If u don’t intro me to Min Yoongi, friendship over!!!!!!! Also jk but ik you havent met him yet. Omg im guna freakkk

You sigh. Of course. Chae doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the awkward distance that’s already wedged itself between you and Yoongi tonight. And you definitely don’t want to be the one to burst her bubble. This is her night—a huge one for her culinary career. The last thing you want to do is drag your personal worries into it.

You type up a simple reply.

You: On it. Stand by. And pls act normal

Fuckkk how are you going to do this? You excuse yourself to the powder room. Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you adjust your lipstick and clean up the edges with the pad of your ring finger.

Yoongi’s a good person, you remind yourself, your mind running through every little moment you’ve shared with him at the office. He won’t embarrass you in public. That’s not who he is. But still, there’s that nagging doubt in the back of your mind—the one that’s been whispering ever since you saw his face earlier, the way his warmth slipped into something more distant.

And if he does embarrass you? Well... maybe that’s your answer. Maybe tonight is the night you get the clarity you’ve been secretly waiting for. 

You come back to Jungwon wiping his mouth with the table napkin, chewing the last bits of his mains. Before you can even politely excuse yourself, he gulps his drink in one go, “Hey, I think I'm actually gonna bounce.”

So that’s that. You text Chae and make your way toward Yoongi’s table, heartbeat picking up speed.

Chae: I’m goin in. Get your ass ready. 

As you approach, Beefy—the bodyguard you recognize from past run-ins inside the office—gives you a friendly nod and lets you through without hesitation. You give him a grateful smile before turning your attention to Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook is mid-conversation, laughing at something Yoongi has said, but as soon as you appear, their heads turn toward you.

You give a small wave and a smile. “Hey.”

Yoongi’s eyes meet yours for a split second, and he gives you a smile that reminds you of that day you first met. Forced. Awkward. Tight-lipped.

Fuck. You’re starting to feel like such an idiot. Maybe this was a mistake—maybe he really doesn’t want to associate with you outside of work. You should’ve read the room. 

But before your thoughts can spiral any further, Jungkook thankfully steps in. “I’m Jungkook, and you are?”

You give him your name, a small, polite bow. You’re about to explain who you are, but before you can, Jungkook’s face light up with recognition.

“Ohhh, wait,” he says pointing a finger at you, a grin spreading across his face, “You’re Yoongi-hyung’s boss.”

You freeze. Boss? His grin widens, and suddenly, there’s a teasing glint in his eyes as he flicks his gaze between you and Yoongi like he’s just connected some dots.

Yoongi shoots him a look, something caught between exasperation and warning. It’s like you can hear the silent “Don’t.” Jungkook ignores it, his smile only growing, and so is your confusion.

“That would be me,” you say, trying to hold onto your composure, giving Jungkook a nod while feeling completely out of the loop.

“Hyung, why didn’t you tell me she was going to be here?” Jungkook’s tone is light, but there’s an unspoken challenge beneath it, like he’s teasing Yoongi in a way that only someone who knows him well could. The silent back-and-forth between them is hard to miss, and it leaves you feeling both confused and embarrassed. There’s clearly something you’re not getting.

Yoongi just shrugs, his voice more detached than you’d like. “I had no idea.”

You furrow your brows, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Jungkook gives Yoongi a curious look, as if they’re having an entire conversation through telepathy. You, meanwhile, are just standing there, completely out of place and unsure whether you should laugh or back away slowly.

And Yoongi hasn’t even addressed you directly in the midst of all this. God, you’re so embarrassed.

At this point, you figure it’s time to bail. You gave it a shot, and it feels like Yoongi doesn’t even want you here. Sorry, Chae. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you Jungkook, but I should just—” You jerk your thumb over your shoulder, already planning your exit.

“No, no!” Jungkook interrupts quickly, grinning like he’s enjoying this way too much. “If you’re here, you should definitely join us,” he says, gesturing to the empty spot next to Yoongi. “There’s more than enough room.”

You hesitate, but before you can even respond, Yoongi speaks up, his tone calm but there’s something else beneath it—something strained. “She’s with someone already.”

You blink. Someone?

Ah. Now it makes sense.

You glance at Yoongi, the pieces falling into place. He thinks you’re here with someone, like on a date. Is it really why he’s been acting distant? Hmm. It’s almost funny now, if it wasn’t so painfully awkward.

You clear your throat. “Actually, I just met Jungwon here. I came alone.” You explain it to Jungkook, but really, the person who needs to hear it is Yoongi. “And he already left, so I’d be down to join if it’s cool with you….” 

Jungkook’s grin is immediate, and he pats the seat next to Yoongi like it’s been waiting for you all along. “Of course! Sit with us.”

You hesitate for a second longer, glancing at Yoongi to see how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—softens—and before you know it, he’s pulling the chair out for you, at the same time Jungkook gets a call.

“Be right back,” Jungkook says and disappears into the hall towards the back of the restaurant.

You settle into the chair beside Yoongi, feeling this strange tension. You glance at him, but Yoongi avoids you, eyes fixed on the table.

But then, just barely, you notice it—the faintest tug at the corner of his lips. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s smiling, the kind of smile that betrays him. The kind that says, Yeah, you caught me. And it confirms what you guessed was happening: he was actually kinda jealous. Which is ridiculous, because why would he feel that?!

He breathes out a soft fuck, before he runs a hand across his scalp. It’s almost funny now and you can’t help but shake your head at him, a small pout playing on your lips. You hear a “sorry” in the deepest register you’ve heard for his voice.

Neither of you says a word after that, but the moment speaks for itself. There’s a quiet agreement to let it go. 

“So…” you start.

Yoongi clears his throat. “Can I get you something to drink?”

You blink, a little surprised, but grateful for the gesture. “Just a glass of white, please.”

He nods, finally looking at you for a second before signaling the waiter. His voice is calm, easy, as he orders for you. He orders a whiskey neat.

As the waiter walks away, Yoongi leans back, glancing at you briefly before looking away again. He doesn’t say much, but the small smile that lingers on his lips tells you enough. He knows he got caught acting a fool. And he’s not quite sure how to deal with it.

And honestly, you don’t know what to feel about it, either. It’s… madness, really.

When your drink arrives, the clouds seem to part. You extend your flute towards him, and he clinks it with his lowball and you both take a sip, peering at each other through your own glasses.

Jungkook sits back down at the table, and the conversation picks up almost immediately. Jungkook leans forward, flashing a bright smile. “So, what’s it like working with him?” He jerks his head in Yoongi’s direction, boba-like orbs twinkling mischievously.

Yoongi sighs, leaning back in his chair, his usual calm demeanor settling in. “Stop,” he mutters under his breath, already sensing where this is going.

You laugh softly. “He’s not so bad. Actually, he’s really helpful.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up. “Helpful? Yoongi-hyung? Are we talking about the same guy?” He’s clearly enjoying himself, teasing while keeping the mood light.

Yoongi shoots him a look, shaking his head. “I’m right here.”

But Jungkook grins, ignoring Yoongi’s protest. “Nah, you sure he isn’t sleeping on the job?”

You chuckle, nodding. “Well, he does use his lunches for sleeping more than eating.”

Yoongi groans. “Great. Love this conversation.”

“I knew it,” Jungkook laughs, before drinking the rest of his drink like a shot.

You can’t help but snicker, but there’s something in you that feels a little protective of Yoongi. “To be fair, he is helpful. You should see him in the office. Always stepping in when I need something fixed.”

Yoongi’s lips twitch, fighting back a small smile. “See? Helpful.”

Jungkook just raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, look at you, hyung. Gunning for Employee of the Month.”

“It’s literally just him in my department. He already wins by default.” you bump Yoongi with your shoulders to coax a tiny smile from him, and you’re successful.

Conversations flow naturally after that, going towards the meal you just had (which Chae would be happy to know got rave reviews) onto other things.

“So, where are you from?” Jungkook asks.

“Busan,” you say with a grin, catching the flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“No way!” Jungkook says, clapping his hands together. “I’m from Busan, too!” He leans in, his enthusiasm infectious. “Do you know that bungeoppang stall at Gukje Market?”

You blink in surprise. “The one with the darling ahjumma with the big hair and red lipstick? I used to go there after school.”

“Oh shit, really?” Jungkook lets out a laugh. “I still dream about that mmm...”

“The ahjumma?” Yoongi asks, straight-faced and full of shit.

Jungkook’s expression sours and you giggle.

“You’re just jealous you’re missing out, hyung,” Jungkook says, turning to Yoongi with a teasing grin. “Busan people know what’s up.”

Yoongi doesn't say anything, just looks at both of you with amusement as you share a high five.

Before Jungkook can continue, Chae finally approaches the table, in her crisp chef’s uniform and a bright smile on her face. 

You introduce her quickly, and she immediately fits in, shaking hands with both of them. You admire the composure, really, considering she is meeting her favorite people.

But what she says next surprises you, when she stops being “loyal ARMY” and starts being “protective best friend.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Chae says to Yoongi, her tone light, but knowing.

Yoongi looks momentarily caught off guard, but before he can say anything, Jungkook jumps in, grinning wide. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve heard a lot about her too,” he says, nodding toward you.

Huh?!

You feel your face heat up, and Yoongi glances at you, clearly not expecting the conversation to turn on him like that. “Wonder why you two talk about each other so much,” Jungkook muses, tapping his chin dramatically.

You and Yoongi exchange a look, both of you feeling the awkwardness creep in. You try to laugh it off, but it’s clear both of you are embarrassed.

Chae, despite starting this whole ripple, decides to shift gears to give you a reprieve, “Anyway, I hear you’re part-timing in the military kitchen, Jungkook. I’ve been dying to know what you think of our food, as a fellow professional.”

Jungkook beams, clearly thrilled to be praised for his culinary pursuits. “Oh, it’s fuckin’ phenomenal. Though—that,” he points at one of the dishes on the table, “that’s way better than anything I’ve had lately.”

Chae’s face lights up. “Ah, that makes me so happy. That’s one of my original recipes. What did you like about it?”

As the two of them dive into an enthusiastic conversation about food, you feel a shift under the table. At first, you think it’s nothing—a stray napkin, maybe. But then it happens again, more deliberate this time. You glance down, and—oh shit, that’s Yoongi’s hand.

Your breath catches for a second, your heart doing a little flip. You glance at Yoongi, but he’s still keeping his attention on the conversation between Chae and Jungkook. Still, there’s something there—something softer—that he doesn’t quite hide.

He’s slow, careful, like he’s testing whether you’ll pull away. You freeze for a second, your pulse kicking up. His fingers brush yours lightly before he gently takes your hand in his, slipping it under the cloth of the table like it’s a secret just between the two of you.

Your heart soars. He’s talking to Chae, pretending everything is normal, but this? This is definitely not nothing. You glance at him, but he’s looking ahead, calm and composed as always, matching the tenderness in the way his thumb strokes over your knuckles.

You squeeze his hand back. It feels like the confirmation you’ve both been waiting for, even though neither of you says anything. 

As the night winds down, the crowd starts thinning out. You wait near the entrance for Chae to finish up, scrolling absently on your phone. You’d figured Yoongi left through the back at some point after he and Jungkook were requested to tour the kitchens. But then you glance up and there he is walking towards you.

He stands close, gaze steady on you, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “I’ll drive you home,” he says, his voice low, like it’s not even a question.

You’re caught a little off guard. “You don’t have to—Chae and I were just—”

“I’ll drive you home,” he repeats, softer this time but just as firm. There’s something in the way he says it that makes it hard to argue. It’s not just the offer—it’s the way he’s looking at you, like he’s already decided.

And because God knows you’re so weak for this man, it’s almost pathetic how you just nod wordlessly.

Chae appears, barely catching the tail end of the conversation. Her eyes dart between you and Yoongi, and then—because of course she can’t resist—her jaw drops dramatically. 

She pulls her phone out, putting on the most ridiculous performance. “Yeah? I’ll come over!” She pretends to talk to someone, then covers the phone mic, turning to you. “I won’t be home. Don’t wait up. You have the whole apartment to yourself, all night.”

You shoot her a look, and she gives you a wink before making herself scarce. You groan inwardly. Way to be subtle, Chae. Really nailed it.

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He motions to the car waiting outside. “Come on,” he says, and just like that, you’re following him out into the cool night air.

The car pulls up, sleek and black, with a driver already waiting inside. Yoongi opens the door for you, and you slide in, nerves buzzing in your chest. He slips in beside you, the driver closing the door for him.

The city lights blur past as the car moves through the streets, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, just watching the world pass by. But then, you feel it—his hand, creeping over the seat like it’s found a familiar place, slowly sliding over yours.

Your breath hitches as his fingers intertwined with yours again, his touch warm and steady. There’s no hesitation this time. His grip is a little firmer, more certain.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, but the way he says it sends a shiver through you.

You hesitate, more out of nerves than anything. “It’s ok,” you mutter, half-playful, half-nervous. “I’m fine here.”

Yoongi lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and amused. He doesn’t push it, but his thumb strokes over your hand again, like he’s perfectly content with the small bit of contact for now. Still, you feel the tension simmering between you—the quiet pull you’ve been dancing around for weeks, maybe months.

The rest of the drive passes in a blur, your thoughts spinning. When the car pulls up in front of your apartment, you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. You know what comes next. You’re psyching yourself up to make the move, but Yoongi’s voice echoes in the stillness inside the car.

“Good night,” he says, watching you with that look that makes your heart race. “You look really pretty tonight.”

You feel the blush creeping up your neck, “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He nods, a boyish grin on his face. 

And before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. “Yoongi, do you... want to come up for ramen?”

The second it leaves your mouth, you cringe inwardly. Ramen? Really? But it’s out there now, and you can’t take it back.

Yoongi’s tongue skims the seam of his lips before it curves into a knowing smile. “Ramen, huh?”

You clear your throat, trying to salvage whatever dignity you have left. “Yeah... you know. If you’re hungry.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Yoongi unbuckles his seatbelt, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Ramen sounds good.”

A/N: So....... ramen, eh???? Please lmk what you thought about this chapter <3 Any favorite parts? Personally, it was Yoongi drooling over MC's gym fit. That was hella fun to write.

Thanks again for reading this you lovely human!

Important poll right here Chapter Four >

Taglist: @glossdebut @kam9404 @mar-lo-pap @nnybtitts08 @granataepfelchen

@perfectiondazesworld @wobblewobble822 @yoongznme @caressesurloceanlove @rinkud

@kayleefriedchicken @jajabro @tinytan-gerine @xxbibin1208 @forevercarpediem227

@yoongicatagenda @someshinesomedont @marnz1990 @iheartshopping @confidentjus

@queenbloody @whydoeyecare @sadroses98 @curlyquennn

@sexytholland @kiki-zb @hiddlestandom

Hope I didn't miss anybody, but if I did please shout at me in the comments. 💕

[hyunjilicious]

most to least kinky [skz ver.]

A/n: this has probably been done a million times before but I thought I could make my own list, right?

Warnings: this isn't full on smut, but A LOT of things are mentioned (from slapping to ass eating to crying to cnc) I can't possibly mention them all. Needless to say, this is strictly 18+, please proceed with caution!!!!

Disclaimer: I'm sorry. I'm incredibly sorry, ok? I don't understand Seungmin 😭😭 I absolutely love him with all my heart, but he's a mystery to me. I've also only been in this fandom for a few months so maybe with time I'll be able to write for him but until then, I'll just keep apologising to my Minnie biased readers for doing their baby dirty. I'm sorry, I promise I'm trying!! 🥺

Please let me know what you thought and if you have other ideas!! I'd love to hear different opinions!!!

1. Lee Know 

Do I even have to explain? At this point, you could basically write an entire encyclopedia only using the stuff this man is into - he knows it all and wants to try it all. The thing is, whether he trusts you enough or not, because if he's too shy to bring up the one thing that's on his mind, he'll bombard you with hints, hoping he'd "manipulate" you into mentioning it first. Not that he'd ever do anything you're not 100% comfortable with, but he'd much rather you be the one who asks. He'd slap your ass, bite it, mark it, grope it, eat your pussy from behind and send you porn links - all while hoping you'd finally get the idea and ask him to eat your ass. Because he's shy like that. But once you do catch on and tell him about it, he's all in. 

And then, as he grows more comfortable around you, all these little games you two play will slowly start to shift. His main priority will always be you, but with time, his teasing nature will replace the old Minho you used to have sex with, and literally everything this man does will be about driving you insane. 

He'd make you beg, whine, crawl on your knees, hump pillows - hump his leg, just so you can prove yourself, only to deny you again, always with a grin on his face. A loving smile as he looks at you, right before he throws a very swift "No" in your face and makes you start over. You have to be spent, exhausted, dumb and drunk on him before he finally gives you what you want. But when he finally does, it's everything you ever wanted and more because he doesn't.hold.back.

2. Jeongin

To be fair, it might be because he had to go through the "Watch your mouth, there's a child in our grup!" phase, which - cute and all, got old very fast. Maybe this side of him would have never surfaced like this, but you can't possibly know, there's only one Jeongin and he's a meanie. He's stern, he's serious and there's only one way, his. 

He takes the safe word very seriously because otherwise, he doesn't take no for an answer. There's no "too much", "too hard", "too fast". He doesn't care. He knows you can take it and you have to. 

You don't move, he moves you. If you don't shut up when he tells you to, it's 'ass up, face down into the pillow' - no questions, no warnings. 

It all starts nicely, though. His good little girl, his angel, who needs to do absolutely everything she's told otherwise his punishments will be downright cruel and you'll be nothing more than a "dumb, fucking whore" until he's done with you. 

One thing that makes him draw the line though, is crying. He loves to see little tears at the corner of your eyes as he fucks you into oblivion, just so he can mock you for it, "Oh, is my sweet, little baby crying?" and then go faster. But if you let out anything more than a cute, little sob, or if you start actually crying, even though you're still down to keep going, he won't. He can't. He's cruel, but not that cruel, it hurts his heart to see you like that and absolutely never lets things get that far.

3. Felix

This man is into… everything. His eyes light up every single time there's something new for you two to try, and he puts his whole soul into it. 

On one hand, he's into the basics - he goes crazy for your tits, will lick, bite, suck and eat anything off of them (absolutely adores eating cream off your body, but yeah, your tits are his favorite spot). He loves lingerie, loves ripping it off of you, loves seeing you dress up, pretend to be a nurse, a teacher or the girl next-door who just so happened to leave the window open. 

Doesn't have a daddy kink but he's just so obsessed with doing absolutely anything for you, he'd go with it. Most likely prefers 'Sir' but it isn't a must. Will melt and cry if you allow him to fall you 'Mommy'

The definition of a switch. When he's a dom, 90% of the time he's soft, full of praises and encouragements, loves making you feel all safe and loved as you degrade yourself for him. He'll whisper in your ear the absolute sweetest, most loving words you ever heard in your entire life, all while completely breaking you in half with his cock. But also, there are times when there's just one way for him to relax and let loose, and during those days, he's lazy and he's condescending, judgy and a little bit mean, and these are the absolute worst moments for you to be brat. 

But all of these are only half of him, because this man is probably the most dedicated and enthusiastic sub in the world. He'll do absolutely everything he's told and then beg for more. Way too eager to humiliate himself for you. Also very, very vocal, he'll cry, whine and beg and will also never fail to let you know just how obsessed he is with worshiping the ground you walk on. 

4. Chan

Also a switch, but it takes months, if not more, for you guys to get there. He's a leader by nature, used to having a lot of responsibilities and a lot of control over the things around him. He likes to be in charge, knows how to do it, and loves the responses he gets. Probably one of the best doms out there because even though you have a safe word, he's so fucking careful with you at all times that he knows to slow down before you even have to think about using it. It only happened once, and your voice still rings in his head - he still hasn't forgiven himself for it. 

But since he's so observant and trusts you to put a stop to whatever is going on in case you need to, he feels free to go crazy. Unlike Jeongin, he likes to hear you cry, likes knowing he has that power over you and the fact you know how easy it is for him to absolutely wreck and ruin you, but still allow him to go crazy, drives him wild. Trust is probably what gets him off the most, he absolutely adores how you give up control and leave yourself at his mercy. 

But then again, as your relationship strengthens and he slowly realizes that maybe he doesn't always have to be the one to do it all, that others can take care of him too, that he can actually let loose and renounce all control, you start to see another side of him. 

He's an exemplary sub, not one brat bone in his body. He tries sometimes to test you, but he goes back to being doe eyed and whiny for you in no time. He's not as vocal and not as eager to let all his enthusiasm show, but just like Felix, he'll do absolutely anything you tell him, and then thank you for allowing him to do it. 

5. Han

Another switch. He can be a dom and he can be a sub, but I think there are two other sides of him. This man will go back and forth between being the absolute, most cocky motherf on the planet, to being absolutely wiped and wrapped around your finger. And while these for aspects of him can pair up in any way, leaving you with a teasing dom, a loving and soft one, or a bratty sub that will try to make you prove to him just how badly you need him to worship you and so on, I think he's not always like this.

You can't really tell whether there's a pattern, but maybe if you spent more time together you'd be able to spot one. Maybe it depends on how his day went, how tired he is, how his social batteries are like at the moment, but I think there are many, many days when this man just needs to feel you, to smell you, hear you. To collapse into the sheets with you, forget about the world and melt in your arms. Yeah, he's down to try a lot of stuff, but what he loves the most are the simple things. Like missionary late at night, with the lights on so he can see every glimmer of anything in your eyes, to wipe the sweat off your temples and to be able to smother you with kisses. Impromptu sex in the morning, lazy sex in the shower, cuddling that turns into you riding him on the couch while watching a movie. That's what I think he's into the most.

6. Changbin

Thank god this man is not the kinkiest because he'd probably break you in half and no amount of aftercare would be able to fix that. This man goes hard. No matter if you're the one that woke him up, all needy and clingy, or if he came home riled and ready to go, he's already ready to give you his all. That dumptruck isn't there for nothing, he doesn't even have to try that hard to make you scream. 

But it's not just physical, he goes all out in all ways. He doesn't just want you on your back, legs spread open so he can eat you out, no, you have to be on his face, full weight down on top of him, and you have to ride. Other than that, you don't really have to do much, because he's a sucker for handling you. He'll hold up your weight when he fucks you against the dresser and he doesn't mind being the one who gets rid of all the clothes in the way when he randomly decides he wants to fuck you bent over the kitchen table. 

So I don't think he needs much more than you two already have. Of course, he's usually fine with trying things you're into, and yeah, he likes them, but that's just more like 'fun' to him. He's not the kind to call you degrading names or spank you until you cry, through he might enjoy a little bit too much seeing his hand print on your ass or the bruises he left on your hips just from hard he was holding onto you while fucking you into oblivion.

Out of all the things you'd get him to try, I think one of his favorites would be wax play. He'll probably ask you to do it again, maybe like 3 months later. Also, one other thing that gets him going and that he still might be shy about it, is just how hard his cock twitched when you called him daddy. Oops. I don't like it, please do it again.

7. Seungmin 

Ok, again, disclaimer with this one. I wanna start by apologizing to Minnie and to all the Minnie biased readers that are here with us today, but I can't read this man. At all. And that's the reason I put him so low on the list because while I do have some ideas, associating him with certain kinks and stuff felt completely empty to me. Like I have no idea what he'd like? But in case you've read this far, lemme tell you what I did manage to come up with and please let me know how you see it!!

I think trust, communication and fun are the most important to him. I feel like he'd have so much fun guiding you and giving you instructions on how to do different things, from how to suck him off just the way he needs it, to how to use a toy on yourself. And I think it goes both ways, he'd love to have you tell exactly how and what to do at all times.

I also think he can be stern and commanding, serious and totally focused, but he also probably adores being a giggling mess, unable to control himself as you give him your all, worship him and make him feel absolutely cherished. I'm sorry, but I feel like this man thrives on love and appreciation. Other than that, my brain is empty, please help me!!

8. Hyunjin

Ok, maaaaybe I shouldn't have put him last. But fuck it. Sue me. I don't think he's kinky at all. I think that again, he'd be the type to try out most of the things you come up with, but I don't think he associates them with sex like that. I think it's just some form of fun you two have, I don't think there are too many crazy things that necessarily get him going. 

He's a romantic, ok? His main goal is pleasure. He's the kind to absolutely not give a shit about anything, all that he needs is you. If he has you and a surface (not even mandatory) he's satisfied. He'll do absolutely anything, worship every single inch of your body. The kind to kiss his way up your leg before eating you out, to kiss you before you even finished swallowing his cum. Nothing to him is gross, to him, bodies are beautiful and made to be worshiped. He'd paint your body, lay back and allow you to do absolutely anything you want to him, he's just full of want and passion. 

I don't think he'd ever be the kind of person to associate pain or humiliation with pleasure. Like he knows they're valid kinks and will not shame anyone about it, but with him, you have to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, loved, cradled and appreciated in absolutely every way. 

Absolutely the type to eat your ass and then be like "What? People don't do that?". Doesn't think spitting in each other's mouths is degrading because, "We literally kiss all the time, what?" 

Will ask you to slap him just to see what it's like but will probably malfunction if you ask him to do it to you. 

I think he'd be down for a lot of stuff, but doesn't see any of them as kinks. Doesn't need any of them. They don't get him hard. It's all just for fun. 

Please let me know what you thought!! I'd love to talk about this!!! ❤️

[reverie-starlight]

{PR DAY ~ sakusa kiyoomi}

MSBY manager!reader my beloved <3

it’s PR Day for the jackals and you, their manager, have the day off. so why is your boyfriend trying so hard to convince you to go with him?

gn!reader, fluff, an attempt at humor, atsumu slander (as much as it pains me, it comes with the territory of writing a fic like this 😔) suggestive in some parts. not nsfw at all, but explicit language is used and one conversation surrounds that topic, so read at your own risk <3 also, intentional tense-switch in the beginning!!! and just like the first part, it’s not explicitly mentioned, but reader and atsumu have known each other since high school.

part 1 of the mini-series

managing MSBY came with its ups and downs.

on one hand, you wouldn’t have met your boyfriend if it weren’t for this job. and you've never laughed as hard as you have been these past three years with coworkers before meeting the current core line up of the jackals.

but on the other? you had three massive fully grown children under your care. four, technically, if they managed to annoy sakusa enough that he stoops to their level of childishness.

which was unfortunately very often.

…

nearly every week.

…

fine, basically everyday.

and ever since your relationship was revealed to the team nearly a year ago, the “trouble trio” had been behaving exactly like you expected them to. the whole team was slightly insufferable about it, sure, but atsumu, hinata and bokuto really took it too the next level.

so obviously you really valued your days off.

and today was the first day off you’ve had in months. you refused to take off days during the busiest weeks of the season, but today was a PR day.

interviews, promotional videos for the official social media accounts, a livestream or two- all things you were more than happy to leave in the hands of the team’s PR and social media managers.

the birds were singing, the sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window and a cool breeze could be felt against your skin. the day was calm and you were so excited to relax and do all the things you had planned.

but of course, your hopes are just that.

you see your boyfriend standing in the doorway of your bedroom, looking like he wants to say something. your heart lurches into your throat.

“soooo,” he starts, not looking directly at you as he moves to the bed and looks at his laid out clothes. you’re already shaking your head before he can say anything else. he ignores this and proceeds to betray you. “if you wanted to tag along today, you could or whatever.”

he’s shameless. he knows how much you’ve been looking forward to today.

“kiyoomi. love of my life. my darling. what the fuck?”

he lets out a snort and looks down at you semi-pleadingly- a rare sight. “I’ll buy you coffee on the way there.”

oh, he’s bargaining? you smirk. “aww, baby,” you stand up and make your way over to him, dramatically twirling and falling back into him with the back of your hand touching your forehead and the other pressed to your chest. “you just can’t bear to be apart from me, can you?”

the pleading look in his eye fades and he gives you a disgusted look you know he doesn’t mean. his arms stay wrapped around you so you don’t fall. “you wish.”

you shrug and move back to your chair, finishing up your morning routine. “hmm I guess I’ll stay here then.”

you enjoy the silence for a moment before he sighs. “fine, two coffees.”

a loud laugh leaves your mouth when he says that. your boyfriend would never put this performance on for anyone else. it was as close to begging as you’d ever get from sakusa kiyoomi.

you shake your head and sigh. “my love, you know I’ve been looking forward to my day off for so long. why are you so insistent about me going with you?”

suddenly he’s behind your chair and leaning down so his breath tickles your ear. “coffee and lunch and maybe when we get back I could be convinced to try that thing you were talking about…” the words are backed up by a kiss to your jaw and some pointed eye contact through the mirror.

you widen your eyes and search his expression for any trace of a lie.

none.

you cannot believe you’re letting him convince you into this, but the offer is far too good to pass up.

you pretend to mull it over, then meet his eyes in the mirror again. “make sure the trouble trio don’t try to coerce me into working and we have a deal.”

“well of course, I was going to yell at them if they tried anything like that anyway.”

“perfect, then let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“only a kiss, baby, I feel your hands wandering.” he pecks your lips quickly and pulls away before you can deepen it.

you pout. “can you blame me? you’ve got me all excited now.”

he shakes his head fondly and straightens up, moving to put the shirt his stylist had insisted upon for the upcoming interviews. you had to hand it to her- she knew exactly what she was doing.

you watch him with hawk eyes and he just turns his head to look at you in amusement. “stop staring at me and get ready, you perv, we have to leave soon.”

as soon as you step into the building where all the other jackals are, you’re bombarded with confused greetings.

“hey, I thought it was your day off?”

“ayy, manager’s here! good to see ya.”

“what are you doing here? you weren’t scheduled for today, were you?”

you sigh and sip your coffee, letting go of sakusa’s hand as you speak to the coach. “no, I wasn’t. I was kidnapped and brought here by one of your wing spikers.”

he chuckles and glances over at your boyfriend, who is looking up at the ceiling and avoiding eye contact. “I see. well, if anyone tries to get you to work today, just let me know and I’ll help sakusa put them in their places.”

you smile kindly. “thank you, sir, I appreciate it.”

as soon as he walks away, you’re surrounded by the three people you wanted to see least today.

a long sigh leaves your lips as atsumu, hinata and bokuto stare at you in wonder.

“just get it over with,” you grumble.

“how much do ya wanna bet he promised something outrageous?” atsumu.

“what, like an all expenses paid vacation?” hinata.

“no, it’s omi-omi, it wouldn’t make sense for him to take time off in the middle of game season.”

you roll your eyes at their back and forth and glance over at the man in question, who appears to be glowering. you can almost picture the scowl underneath his mask. “you’re all idiots,” he states.

“hey! I haven’t even said anything yet!” bokuto protests.

“yes, but I can practically hear the gears in your brain grinding.”

“I’ll bet it’s a sex thing,” atsumu interrupts just as bokuto is about to defend himself.

you all freeze and stare at him.

your boyfriend, deadly calm, says “miya, I will skin you alive.”

the blonde, who absolutely loves getting a rise out of sakusa, just smirks. “oh, so I’m right then?” he turns to you and slings an arm over your shoulder. “tell me, dear manager, what exactly did he have to agree to in order to get ya to show up on your day off?”

you flick his forehead and shake your head disapprovingly. “none of your business, you freak. just 'cause your dating life isn’t going too well right now doesn’t mean you can pry into mine. download tinder or something if you’re that bored.”

bokuto and hinata snicker at that, but straighten up quickly when he shoots them a glare. suddenly, meian stalks up behind the three of them and clears his throat.

“if you’re all done terrorizing our manager, our social media team is ready for us now. hurry up.” he nods at you with an apologetic smile and drags atsumu away from you. “sakusa, you too. we’ve been waiting for a while now.”

as soon as his teammates walk away and he’s sure they’re not watching him, he slumps a bit and you notice the tips of his ears have gone red. you smile at him in amusement and pat his cheek, the action only slightly awkward due to his mask.

“aw lighten up, kiyoomi, I’m used to dealing with atsumu by now. just ignore him, he wouldn’t dream of bringing that up again if he knows what’s good for him.”

he sighs and drops his shoulders, relief washing over him now that he knows you’re not regretting your decision to come with him. he slips off his mask and presses a quick kiss to your lips. “alright. I love you, just enjoy the show.”

you take his mask and walk with him to the rest of the group so that they can start with the promotional videos.

it’s fun to watch, honestly, because the team’s dynamic does work well for the cameras. they’re not even playing anything up.

you sit through the promo videos they need to film for upcoming games, the silly one-off fluff questions and the fan asks for their instagram page before they’re allowed a break.

sakusa stalks over to you with a small scowl and you smile. “you’re doing great, handsome.”

his expression softens a bit and he offers you a kiss on the forehead. “thank you, darling. care for some lunch?”

you nod and pull him out the door before a certain trio can invite themselves to the impromptu lunch date.

you walk in comfortable silence towards the building’s food court before something pops into your mind. “kiyoomi, you never answered my question from earlier.”

he hums in acknowledgment. “and what might that be?”

“why were you so insistent on me joining you today?”

he doesn’t answer for a moment, but you wait patiently. you know he’s not ignoring you.

finally he sighs and squeezes your hand. “I feel like we haven’t been spending much time together lately outside of work… and I was hoping that by bringing you with me today we’d be able to have at least some time together…” his voice is low, but he’s not shy about it.

you fiddle with the chain around your neck, one he bought for you a while back. "that's very sweet of you, kiyo."

"and..." he hesitates a bit, but you squeeze his hand in return to encourage him. "I feel more relaxed in front of the cameras when you're there."

you melt a little bit. "I'm happy I make you feel that way, kiyoomi. thank you for kidnapping me on my day off, I suppose."

he snorts and you smile. you're about to lean in to pull his mask down for a kiss, but you're interrupted. of course.

"hey, hey, hey! there you guys are! we saw you leaving so figured we'd get lunch with you!"

you honestly don't think you could ever be mad at bokuto, but he is seriously testing your patience right now. not far behind him are atsumu and hinata, one looking smug and the other a bit sheepish. one of them probably brought up your departure to bokuto, either on purpose or accidentally you'd never know.

you sigh and pat sakusa on the back. "yeah, come on. you're all paying for your own, though."

you both ignore the whines of the fully grown children behind you and continue walking hand in hand.

~~~~

BONUS:

"so this question is directed at sakusa..." atsumu reads the question silently and the team watches as he holds back a laugh.

you watch as your boyfriend narrows his eyes at the blonde in front of him and you sigh. things had been going so well up until now.

it’s past lunch break now, and their social media manager had just given them a box full of printed out tweets with fan questions to answer. she snickers to herself as if she knows which question it is and looks pointedly at you from behind the phone she’s recording on.

you blink in confusion, but everything is made clear when atsumu opens his mouth again.

“omi-omi, user @/kiyosdear wants to know if you’re single, or if you’re in need of a dog, because they’re more than willing to bark.”

the social media manager giggles, as does the rest of the team. you feel your eye twitch a bit, but you’re easily able to shove down any possession you feel in the moment.

it’s obviously impossible to ignore so many people vying for his attention all the time, but sometimes it could be a little funny to see how flustered your boyfriend could become from the unwanted attention.

you smile at the small scowl that forms. “no thank you. I’d want nothing less.”

atsumu snorts at his curt answer and hands the box to him. sakusa picks out a question and reads it to himself before blushing furiously and turning his face away from the camera. you watch curiously as meian looks over his shoulder to see what could have garnered that reaction from him and his eyes trail to you amusedly.

the social media manager looks like she’s having a field day, zooming in on sakusa’s red face for a moment. it’s not often something flusters him that badly after all. she’ll milk it for all it’s worth.

the captain pries the paper out of your boyfriend’s hand and reads it out loud.

“@/msby_luvr asks, yo @/sakusakiyoomi, is your team's manager single? totally unrelated, @/msbymanager, are you free on thursday?"”

it’s not exactly a secret to the public that there’s something going on between you two, they just don’t know what that something is.

of course neither of you ever confirm or deny anything, but you imagine being asked outright like that is what caught him off guard.

the camera cuts to you, “offstage” laughing at the question and shaking your head a little in amusement.

or maybe he’s not shy, but rather jealous?

that’s kind of sweet.

regardless, you speak up for him, knowing he wouldn't answer. "I am not single, but thanks for asking."

the camera pans back to the team, just in time to catch the tail end of atsumu clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder.

sakusa gives you a small smile, clearly relieved you took over for him, and goes back to focusing on the interview.

hinata, the poor thing, reads the next question. “oh boy… @/msbymanager asks, sakusa and atsumu rivals to lovers arc when?”

you cackle as both men whip their heads in your direction, betrayal and incredulity on their faces.

raising your hands, you said to them “in my defence, I was still miffed about being dragged here on my day off when I sent it in!”

atsumu loudly refuted the question and the jeers from his teammates, but that was all drowned out by the look your boyfriend sent your way.

you sighed. you were really in for it later.

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

I’ll 100% be doing more MSBY manager!reader. and I’ll do more PR scenarios as well, bc as much fun as this was to write, it didn’t have as much as I wanted to include. but I’ll have to do more research. thank you for reading!! and happy birthday sakusa <3

tags: @dira333 (ty for inspiring me to turn it into a mini-series) @emmyrosee (Ik you love Sakusa and you wanted the WIP for this a long time ago)

[its-avalon-08]

Can you write a Carlos or Daniel x reader story where the reader goes through a miscarriage and is affected by it; they can either be in a relationship or just friends?

mi vida mi amor (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, miscarriage, tears, comfort

hey guys, due to the severity of this topic, please proceed with caution. incase you relate with this story, firstly my heartfelt condolences and love, secondly know you are loved and worthy of everything under the sun.

the pregnancy loss phone helpline - 01924 200799 or email at info@miscarriageassociation.org.uk

The warm, golden glow of the afternoon sun bathed the cozy living room in a serene light. Y/N sat on the couch, her hand resting gently on her belly, a soft smile playing on her lips as she gazed at Carlos, who was crouched down in front of her, his hand pressed against her stomach with reverence.

"I can’t wait to meet them," he whispered, his voice full of awe, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You think they’ll be a little racer like their dad or maybe an artist like their mom?”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers running through Carlos’s hair as she looked down at him, love swelling in her chest. “I think they’ll be a little bit of both. Fast and creative, maybe even stubborn like you.”

Carlos grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss against her belly. “Stubborn’s a good thing. Means they’ll never give up. Just like their mamá.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, warmth spreading through her as Carlos sat beside her, gently pulling her into his arms. They had been waiting for this moment for what felt like a lifetime—a future full of laughter, love, and their baby. The pregnancy had been smooth so far, and every appointment brought new joys. They had even picked out names.

As she nestled into his embrace, Y/N sighed contentedly. “Can you believe it? In just a few months, everything’s going to change. We’ll be parents, Carlos.”

Carlos tightened his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’m ready for it. I’m ready for all of it, as long as I have you by my side.”

She turned to look at him, eyes sparkling with joy. “I love you, you know that?”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly. “I love you more. Always.”

The moment felt perfect, like everything had fallen into place, like the universe was aligning just for them. Y/N felt safe in Carlos’s arms, and for the first time in a long time, her worries felt small, far away.

Until they weren’t.

Later that evening, Y/N suddenly felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, enough to make her pause mid-laugh as they sat down for dinner. Carlos, who had just set a plate of her favorite food in front of her, immediately noticed the change in her expression.

"Y/N? What’s wrong?" he asked, concern flashing in his eyes as he rushed to her side.

She winced, gripping the edge of the table as another wave of pain hit her, harder this time. “I… I don’t know. It’s probably just nothing—maybe the baby’s moving.”

Carlos knelt down beside her, his hand on her knee, trying to hide the panic rising in his chest. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Before she could answer, another sharp pain tore through her, this one stronger than the last. She gasped, her hand instinctively going to her stomach, fear creeping into her eyes. "Carlos, something’s wrong. I don’t—"

His heart dropped. “Okay, okay. We’re going to the hospital. Right now.” His voice was steady, but inside, dread was building with each passing second. He grabbed the car keys and helped her to her feet, his mind racing as he tried to stay calm for her sake.

As they drove, Y/N held onto her belly, her breathing shallow, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. "Carlos, what if—"

"Don’t. Don’t say it," Carlos interrupted, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. "Everything’s going to be okay, Y/N. It has to be."

But deep down, a part of him was terrified. Terrified of what they might lose. Of what they couldn’t control.

The ride to the hospital felt like a blur. Once they arrived, the doctors moved quickly, whisking Y/N away while Carlos was left pacing the sterile waiting room, the smell of disinfectant and the cold, harsh lights making the entire situation feel surreal.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, until finally, a doctor came out, his expression grim. Carlos’s heart stopped as he looked up, dreading the words that were about to come.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said, his voice gentle but devastating. “There was nothing we could do. You’ve lost the baby.”

Carlos’s world crumbled in that moment, the breath stolen from his lungs. His legs felt weak, his mind unable to fully comprehend the words. Lost? How could that be? Just hours ago, everything had been perfect. They had been planning their future, dreaming of the family they were going to have.

Now, it was all gone.

And Y/N—his heart broke for her as much as it broke for the child they had lost. He could barely process his own grief, but Y/N’s—how would she survive this? How could he help her through something so devastating when he barely knew how to breathe himself?

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stumbled into the hospital room, where Y/N lay, her face pale and streaked with tears. Her eyes met his, and in that moment, the pain they both felt was indescribable. He rushed to her side, taking her trembling hand in his, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to make any of this better.

“Carlos,” she sobbed, her voice raw and broken, “our baby…”

Carlos pulled her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could, tears streaming down his own face. "I know, mi amor. I know. I’m so sorry."

They clung to each other, their grief unbearable, as the world outside moved on without them. But in that hospital room, time stood still, and all that remained was the weight of their loss, heavy and heart-shattering.

time skip

The days after the hospital were a blur of empty silences and broken hearts. Carlos tried, God, he tried, but it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers. He cooked Y/N's favorite meals, hoping the familiar taste might bring her back, even just a little. But each time, she would sit at the table, staring blankly at the food, barely touching a bite.

He watched her now, sitting across from him, the plate of pasta growing cold in front of her. She held the fork but didn’t lift it. Her eyes were distant, lost in a fog of grief and guilt. She hadn’t spoken much in days, only brief answers, as if words were too much of an effort.

Carlos forced a smile, his voice soft but filled with desperate hope. "Remember when we made this for the first time? You almost burned the entire kitchen down." He chuckled lightly, trying to coax a reaction, any reaction from her.

Y/N's lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile—it was something hollow, a distant echo of the person she used to be. She set the fork down without taking a bite.

Carlos’s heart sank. He couldn’t stand it—the silence, the emptiness. He needed her to come back. “Y/N, please…” he said softly, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Talk to me. Yell at me, cry, anything. Just… don’t shut me out.”

Her eyes flickered to his, but the spark that used to light them was gone. She squeezed his hand weakly, as if trying to reassure him, but the gesture felt hollow. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m just… tired.”

Carlos swallowed hard, nodding as he tried to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I know, mi amor. I know you’re tired. But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here. I’m always here.”

Y/N stood abruptly, the scrape of the chair against the floor loud in the otherwise silent room. “I’m going to lie down,” she murmured, walking toward their bedroom, her movements slow, like she was carrying a weight too heavy for her to bear.

Carlos sat at the table, his chest tightening as he watched her retreating figure. His hands trembled as he buried his face in them, the weight of helplessness suffocating. He had no idea what to do. He was losing her, piece by piece, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Later that evening, Carlos found Y/N sitting by the window in their bedroom, staring out at the darkening sky. The soft glow of twilight bathed her in shadows, making her seem even more fragile than she already was. He sat beside her, carefully placing an arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into him, like she always did, pressing a kiss to his cheek—a gesture that used to be filled with love, but now felt almost automatic, like she was going through the motions but wasn’t really there.

Carlos closed his eyes, the pain of it all overwhelming him. “I miss you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I miss us.”

Y/N didn’t respond, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t bother wiping it away.

He pressed his forehead against hers, trying to hold on to the connection they had. “I need you to come back to me,” he pleaded, his voice shaking. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. Please don’t do this.”

She swallowed hard, her breath shaky, but still said nothing. Silence filled the room again, and Carlos felt like he was drowning in it.

After a long moment, Y/N pulled away slightly, her eyes downcast. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispered, her voice so broken it barely sounded like her. “I hate myself, Carlos. I don’t know how to… how to live with this.”

Carlos's breath hitched, his heart breaking all over again. “No, no,” he shook his head, his grip tightening on her. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re still the woman I fell in love with, and I’m not giving up on you.”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her face now. “But I’m giving up on myself,” she admitted, the words hanging between them like a knife to his chest.

Carlos’s world seemed to tilt as the gravity of her words sank in. His pulse raced, his mind screaming for a way to fix this, to make her see. “You can’t,” he whispered, his voice trembling as panic gripped him. “You can’t give up. Not on yourself. Not on us.”

Y/N turned away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Carlos. I just… I don’t know how to be okay again.”

Carlos felt the walls closing in around him, his heart pounding in his chest as fear like he’d never known consumed him. He was losing her, and no matter what he said or did, he couldn’t seem to stop it. He couldn’t reach her anymore.

Desperately, he grabbed her hand, pulling her back to face him. "Y/N, don’t say that! You have to fight. You have to. For us. For what we still have left. I—"

But Y/N pulled her hand away, standing up abruptly. “I need air,” she muttered, her voice cracking as she hurried toward the door.

Carlos stood up as well, panic rising in his chest. “Y/N, wait! Please—”

But before he could stop her, she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her.

Carlos stood frozen in place, the silence that followed deafening. His chest heaved with each shallow breath as dread clawed at him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His world was unraveling before his eyes, and he was powerless to stop it.

Suddenly, the sound of something crashing in the hallway broke the silence.

Carlos’s blood ran cold.

“Y/N?” he called, his voice thick with fear as he rushed out of the room.

But the only response was the echo of his own voice in the empty hallway.

Carlos's heart raced as he rushed down the hallway, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the walls, his mind filled with dread.

“Y/N!” he called again, his voice thick with fear, his throat dry.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he skidded to a stop by the front door, his breath catching in his chest when he saw her. Y/N was slumped against the wall, her body shaking with silent sobs, her hand covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face. A picture frame had fallen from the wall, its shattered pieces scattered around her feet.

Carlos's chest tightened at the sight of her, his heart breaking all over again. He crouched down beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out, his voice softer now, gentler. "Y/N, amor, please… talk to me. I’m right here."

But she didn’t respond, her eyes glazed over, staring at nothing as if she were lost in a fog too thick to escape. She was barely hanging on, and Carlos could feel her slipping further away from him with each passing second.

He gently took her hand, squeezing it, trying to ground her, to bring her back. "I’m right here," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I’m not going anywhere. Please don’t shut me out."

Finally, Y/N looked at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying, her lips trembling. “I can’t… I don’t know how to do this anymore, Carlos,” she whispered, her voice broken, raw. “I can’t pretend to be okay when everything inside me feels so wrong.”

Carlos’s breath hitched in his throat, his chest tightening as her words pierced through him. He wanted to fix this, to make her pain go away, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to bring her back to the woman she once was—the woman he loved, who was full of life and light. Now, all that was left was a shadow, and it terrified him.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “You don’t have to be okay. I just need you to let me in. I need you to try.”

Y/N’s body shook as a sob escaped her lips, her free hand clenching around the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t know how to try, Carlos,” she admitted, her voice so small it broke him. “I feel like I’m drowning, and no matter what I do, I can’t breathe.”

Carlos’s eyes stung with unshed tears as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could, as if somehow, his love alone could save her. "Then let me breathe for you," he whispered into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll hold on to you. I’ll never let go, I swear."

But Y/N shook her head, her voice barely a whisper, “What if you’re better off without me?”

Carlos froze, his blood running cold at the words, like a knife had been driven into his chest. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face with both hands, forcing her to look at him. His eyes searched hers, desperate, pleading. "Don’t ever say that," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t ever say that.”

Tears streamed down her face as she broke down, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. "I’ve lost our baby, Carlos. I failed you, I failed us. How can you still look at me and say you love me after everything I’ve taken from you?”

His heart shattered at her words, and he held her tighter, his own tears falling freely now. “You didn’t fail me,” he whispered fiercely, his voice shaking with emotion. “You never failed me, Y/N. We lost our baby, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost you. I still love you. I’ll always love you."

Y/N sobbed harder, her hands clutching his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. "I hate myself for this," she admitted, her voice broken. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

Carlos kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there as he tried to hold back his own tears. “I know it’s hard. I know you’re hurting, amor, but you’re not alone in this. We’re going to get through this together. I promise you. Please, don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on us.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain and self-loathing, and for a moment, it seemed like she might say something—like she might let him in. But instead, she pulled away, wiping her tears with shaky hands.

“I need to be alone,” she whispered, standing up slowly, her movements lethargic, almost mechanical. She didn’t look back at him as she walked toward the door, the distance between them growing with each step.

Carlos’s heart raced, panic clawing at his chest as he stood up, calling after her. “Y/N, wait—”

But she didn’t stop, her hand already on the door handle.

Carlos felt his world tilting again, slipping further out of his control. He could feel her slipping away, and the terror of losing her completely gripped him.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he took a step forward, his hand reaching out for her. "Don’t go."

Y/N paused, her hand frozen on the door, her back still turned to him.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Carlos held his breath, waiting—hoping—for something, anything.

Then, without a word, Y/N opened the door and stepped outside, leaving Carlos standing alone in the hallway, the cold air from the open door chilling him to the bone.

And as the door clicked shut behind her, Carlos felt his world shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Carlos stood frozen, staring at the door as it clicked shut behind Y/N, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. His world, once filled with joy and love, now felt like it was crumbling to dust. He wanted to move, to chase after her, but his feet felt glued to the floor. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear, anger, and helplessness.

Why did she leave? Why couldn’t I stop her? His mind screamed, and his body trembled with the effort to hold himself together. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he tried to choke back the sob threatening to escape.

I can’t lose her. I can’t let this destroy us.

Tears blurred his vision as he sank down to the floor, his head in his hands. He didn’t know what else to do. He had tried everything, poured every ounce of love he had into her, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. And now, she was gone.

Why am I not enough? he thought bitterly, the question ringing through his mind. I love her more than anything, but I can’t fix this. I can’t fix her. I can’t even fix myself.

Carlos let out a shaky breath, a sob finally escaping as the weight of it all became too much. I lost our baby too, he thought, his chest tightening with the realization. And now I’m losing her. And I can’t do anything about it.

Outside, Y/N’s footsteps were heavy against the pavement, her body trembling as she walked farther away from the house. The cold night air bit at her skin, but she barely felt it, too lost in her own whirlwind of emotions. Guilt, shame, anger—they all swirled together, threatening to consume her.

Why did I leave? she thought bitterly, her mind screaming at her. Why did I walk away from him?

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She wanted to stop, to turn back, but something in her wouldn’t let her. The weight of her guilt pressed down on her, making her feel small, unworthy.

You don’t deserve him, her mind whispered, cruel and relentless. You’re broken. You lost his baby. How could he ever love you after that?

The thought made her stomach twist painfully, tears streaming down her cheeks once more. She had failed him. She had failed them both. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all her fault.

But it’s not just your loss, another voice whispered, softer but more painful. He lost the baby too.

That thought stopped her in her tracks, her heart clenching in her chest as the guilt washed over her in waves. Carlos had lost just as much as she had, yet here she was, leaving him behind, abandoning him in his own grief.

What am I doing? she thought desperately, her hands trembling as she wiped at her tears. He needs me. He’s hurting too. How could I just walk away?

Suddenly, she felt her heart drop into her stomach as the weight of it all hit her like a punch to the gut. She had been so consumed by her own pain, her own guilt, that she had pushed him away. And now… now she had hurt him even more.

I can’t do this. I can’t leave him.

Without another thought, she turned around, her feet moving before her mind could catch up. She had to go back. She had to make this right.

But before she could take more than a few steps, she saw a figure running toward her in the dim light. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized it was Carlos, his face pale with fear, his eyes red-rimmed and wide with desperation.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice hoarse, shaky. “Please, please don’t leave me!”

Her heart shattered at the sound of his voice, and she ran toward him, her body trembling with both relief and guilt. When they finally met, she crashed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably as he held her close, his arms wrapping around her like a lifeline.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered between sobs, burying her face in his chest. “Carlos, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave, I didn’t— I just—” Her words fell apart as the weight of everything they had lost hit her again, but this time, she wasn’t running from it.

Carlos held her tightly, his own tears falling freely now, his body shaking as he tried to keep himself together for her. “It’s okay,” he whispered into her hair, his voice cracking with emotion. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, her hands gripping his shirt, her eyes filled with anguish. “No, it’s not okay. I left you. I hurt you. I… I’m so messed up, Carlos, and I don’t know how to fix it. I hate myself for what happened, and I don’t know how to live with that. How can you stand to even look at me?”

Carlos cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze, his eyes filled with nothing but love and pain. “Because I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I love you more than anything, and nothing—nothing—is going to change that. We lost our baby, but we haven’t lost each other. We can’t lose each other. I won’t let that happen.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her tears falling faster as she shook her head. “But I’m broken, Carlos. I don’t know how to be okay again.”

Carlos’s heart ached at her words, but he held her tighter, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You’re not broken,” he whispered fiercely. “You’re hurting, and that’s okay. We’re both hurting. But we’ll get through this together, mi amor. I don’t care how long it takes, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be here for every bad day, every moment you think you can’t do this. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Y/N let out a choked sob, her hands gripping his arms as if afraid he might slip away. “I’m so scared,” she whispered, her voice small and fragile.

Carlos pressed his forehead against hers, his own tears mixing with hers. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m scared too. But we’re going to be okay. I promise you, Y/N. You’re not alone. You’re never alone.”

She closed her eyes, her body shaking as she leaned into him, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know how to fix this, how to fix herself. But in that moment, wrapped in Carlos’s arms, she realized that maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe they could heal together, slowly, piece by piece.

“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Carlos shook his head, pulling her even closer. “You deserve the world,” he whispered back, his voice raw. “And I’m never going to stop giving it to you.”

She pressed her face into his chest, her sobs finally subsiding, though the pain lingered. But this time, she let herself lean on him, let herself trust that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way through this together.

“Promise me you’ll stay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Carlos kissed the top of her head, his heart breaking for her, for them. “I promise,” he whispered, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. “I’m never letting you go.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/N believed him.

[dotster001]

When You Escape Him; Non NRC

Summary: Yandere Neige/Chenya/Rollo/Najma x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

CW: these are probably the tamest of the crew, yandere content, probably ooc but we know so little about these guys, Rook's an ass, gaslighting/manipulation, restraints, Rollo's darling is on their last straw, Stockholm syndrome

A/N: I was gonna include Najma, but she's so pretty, she could do whatever she wanted, and I'd be like, "whatever you say, babygirl." Anyways...I did not include her here...for reasons....

Edit: I am a dumbass. I figured out how to write a Najma part.

Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

You'd gotten an invitation to Rook's estate in the Sunset Savannah. 

Rook had basically become your son's godfather, though you had to doubt his motives. At first that is.

You'd been suspicious. Of course Rook would want to raise up the next Neige le Blanche. Your son was the spitting image of him, but with the added “bonus” of having your “radiant, glowing eyes.” You couldn't help but worry that Rook was helping you because he wanted to be the one to help polish and prepare the one who would grow up to be the fairest of them all.

Your suspicions had faded over time, as he seemed to be taking a hands off approach, opting to send money, buy food and clothes, and play pretend dad if someone asked questions. He'd visit twice a year, expressing his excitement to simply play fairy godmother to the boy.

Then one evening, long after your son had gone to sleep, you'd sat late into the night talking in front of Rook's grandiose fireplace. The both of you had inched closer and closer, until he'd taken your chin in his hand, and was whispering against your lips.

“I've always loved your eyes. I'd always hoped that it would be my son you'd share them with.”

You laughed dryly. “Perhaps in another universe, there's a boy who looks like Rook Hunt, who has my (e/c) eyes.”

“I hope that Rook treasures him as much as I treasure S/N and his parent. Perhaps you can make the transgression up to me, by allowing me to dote on you, and continue to help raise your son.”

It had been a night where, despite not having drunk anything, you'd felt intoxicated: on eachother, and the firelight, and promises for the future. The next morning, you'd both agreed it was best to proceed as usual. Perhaps, as time went on, you would fall into something naturally. You weren't far off as it was.

A month later was when you'd gotten the invitation to his estate.

Your son was excited as always. And when you'd arrived, Rook had told you he had set up a tea party for you. The door opened, and a pair of arms were wrapped around you.

“Oh my sevens, thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

You stiffened, but didn't have time to react as Neige pulled away, and got down on your son's level, cupping his cheeks, and cooing softly. The static in your ears was preventing you from understanding anything he was saying. But you were the only one out of the four people in this room who was not smiling.

Neige pushed a lock of your son's hair back, and gave him a tearful smile, and you watched as your son skipped out the door. You felt Rook's hands on your shoulders, and it brought you back to earth. He gently directed you to one of the two chairs of the tea party you had been promised. You sat with a thud as Neige took the one across from you. 

You looked up at Rook, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He reached out, and gently brushed one away.

“Do not cry, Mon Trickster”

“Why?”

He smiled softly, yet still had the decency to look heartbroken.

“I cannot stand between soulmates. You can't let true love escape, for someone like me.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Just give him a chance. The beauty the two of you  create together is not something I can allow to get away.”

And then he left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him, as you stared at Neige, who practically had hearts in his eyes. He reached across the table and gently took your hand, stroking the back with his thumb.

“I missed you both. So much.”

You bit your lip unsure of what to say.

“Listen, I know I've made some mistakes, but,” he sniffled a little, “I want you back. Please, give us another chance.”

“I don't think-”

“I'm so much better than I was! I hurt you, I know, but I'm not that person anymore.” He got up from his chair, and knelt before you, pressing your hand to his heart.

“I swear on everything I love that I will never hurt you again. I'll be less controlling. I won't fly off the handle. I won't give you the silent treatment when you have to talk to someone who isn't me. Please.”

He knew his crimes. That was a pretty huge step. And as you stared into his pleading eyes, you remembered how much you used to love this man. He seemed so earnest. 

Maybe you could learn to love him again.

“And what if you're lying?” You asked, hoarsely.

“I'm not.”

“A-a trial period. That's all I'll agree to.”

He looked ecstatic as he jumped up, and wrapped his arms around you.

“Thank you. I promise to never make you cry again.”

You believed him. Just like you'd believed him everytime he made you pretty promises. 

But, maybe this time…

“Oh. Hey Y/N. Meow's it going?” Chenya said as though him shopping at the supermarket you always shopped at wasn't about to send you spiraling.

He reached past you, grabbing the bag of chips on the shelf next to you. You didn't dare move. Sudden movements made him excited. You'd sent your kids to grab something you'd forgotten in the frozen food aisle. You prayed it would take him a while to find it.

“Nya, you have nothing to be a scaredy cat about. I'm just here to shop,” he said with a wide smile, grabbing another several bags of chips. “See, I have a mew family. With an even more purrfect son.”

“Oh, well good for you, Chenya. I'm happy for you,” you said, quickly turning your cart so that you could run if you had to.

He looked at you, face blank. “So, I don't need you anymore.”

“That's so great. I'm happy for you,” you took a step back, trying to decide if you should call someone over, just in case he decided to be wild, just to fuck with you one more time.

“I'm glad. So leave me alone. M’kay?” He said, his face still uncharacteristically blank.

“Sounds good.”

You slowly walked out of the aisle. Once you were out of his eyeline, you ran for your son, and grabbed his hand.

“Forget it, baby, we're just gonna go home,” you whispered.

“But why?” He whined, begrudgingly putting the ice cream sandwiches, that you definitely didn't ask for, back on the shelf.

“I forgot my wallet at home,” you explained, but he didn't seem to be listening. He slowly pointed slightly behind you. Then you felt a tail wrap around your middle.

You looked over your shoulder, but as usual there was no body attached to the tail. You held back a groan. The only way to deal with him was to give him nothing.

“Nya, you were supposed to get insanely jealous!” He whined, and you felt his rough tongue lick up and down your neck, possessively.

“You said you were happy, and that you didn't need me,” you reminded, trying to subtly give your son the eye signal. You'd established it about a year ago. If you gave him that signal, it meant he had to get a grown up to help. Chenya was too unpredictable, so you had to hope that if your son got away, he would actually get help, or he'd be taken care of by a family far away. He turned on his heel, ready to walk, not run, down the aisle, when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Chenya 's face hovered above the both of you, clearly upset. 

“Where are you going? Bad kitties get bites,” he warned. Your son, who was not related to Chenya, unfortunately had the same feline features and instincts. Upon hearing that warning, his ears drooped, and he looked down at the floor, whimpering.

“Aw! So pwecious! Papa will forgive you!” The tail around you disappeared, as Chenya recorpperated himself before your son, happily squishing his cheeks, and nuzzling their noses.

“Uh, who are you?” Your son asked nervously, looking at you as though you'd have a logical answer.

“That's-”

“Didn't you hear the first time? I'm your papa!” Chenya giggled happily, as he squeezed your son in a hug.

“This man is scary,” he whimpered.

“Chenya, let's just have a chat-”

His eyes turned to you, and you couldn't fight back a gasp. The anger in his face was something you'd never seen before.

“No. No more chats. No more discussions. No more, ‘let’s take a break's’. We are going home right now.”

He floated over to you, his face less than a centimeter from yours. “And, this time, you are going to stay put. Or the baby kitten is gonna be all mine to raise. I don't think you'd like that very much.”

Your door shattered into a million pieces. And there he was, holding his staff, and looking very displeased with you.

He held out a hand, clearly expecting you to take it. 

“Come.”

You simply sat there, too shocked to even blink, let alone process the command. The fact that he'd found you, meant you were already fucked. Taking his hand would have lessened whatever “purification” punishment he had cooked up for you in your twelve year absence. But you were too shocked.

“How-”

“If you have enough brains to ask questions, then you know you should take my hand, and come home. Before I get angry.”

“We should talk about this-” you began, but cut yourself off as his eyes flashed angrily.

“You had plenty of chances to talk about it. But you chose to act like a child, and run away from your problems.” His staff started to glow, and you swore you saw fire in his eyes. “You have one last chance. Come.”

You stood slowly, knowing he wouldn't hesitate to burn your apartment to the ground, just to make a point.

“S/N is asleep in his room,” you said, taking a step in that direction.

“We're leaving him.”

“What!”

“He was supposed to teach you how to behave. Instead he caused you to be foolish, and run from me.”

“Wait, Rollo, you can't be ser-”

“The child is obviously a distraction. So, he has no use for us.” 

You stared at him, and then ran for your son's room. Rollo quickly caught you around the middle, dragging you towards the exit.

“You can't do this!” You shouted, trying to wrestle from his firm grip. “That's my son!”

“One of your neighbors will see the broken door, and take him in. He is not your son anymore.”

You screamed, and struggled, but, for some reason, none of your neighbors even opened their doors to investigate. He dragged you all the way to his car, no one stopping him. He threw you in, quickly tying you down, before beginning the drive back home.

You continued to scream at him, calling him inhuman, a monster, how dare he separate you from your son? How could he care so little? Your son looked like him, for hell's sake!

“I told you. That boy was a means to an end. And he failed at that end. So I have no use for him. And neither do you. You'll soon forget.”

You snapped at him, and he groaned.

“Oh, just shut up for five minutes,” he muttered, and you found you no longer had your voice.

Ooh, you were steaming. When you had your voice back, you'd let him have it. Then again, so would he. He'd  throw you straight into your punishment, which would probably get worse when he realized your son had been manifesting signs of magic, meaning you needed to be “cleaned”. 

But, at this moment, you realized something. 

If you had to kill this man to get your son back, you were pretty sure you now had the resolve to do it.

You hesitated a moment, before knocking on the front door. You heard shouting inside, then were greeted by Jamil opening the door. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes widening. Then he groaned, and rolled his eyes.

"Najma, you can relax now. They're back!" He shouted into the house. You winced as you heard her squeak. She came running for you, wrapping her arms around you and her son.

"You gotta start taking better care of your things," Jamil warned her.

"Shut up," she muttered into your neck.

"I'll go tell Kalim to call off the search party," Jamil mumbled, walking past the both of you.

"I'm sorry, baby," you whispered, tears springing to your eyes.

She pulled back, her face furious.

"What the hell, Y/N? You scared me half to death. Where did you go? Why did you leave?" She snapped.

You sniffled, more tears flooding your eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I just got very scared for a moment. So I ran. I don't know why. I'm so so sorry."

She stared at you for a moment, before she sighed heavily.

"This may be partly my fault," she muttered, but you shook your head. How could this possibly be her fault? She was perfect!

She gently took your son from your arms. You reached back over to take him back, unsure why your stomach was turning, but she softly smiled at you.

"It's alright, Y/N. Come inside."

She walked in, and for some reason your feet felt like lead as you followed her.

"I know exactly what I did. It's not your fault, love," She smiled at you sweetly, but you were doubtful. Didn't you just run with your new son, filled with unspeakable terror, out of nowhere?

She laid your son in the basinet she'd gotten for the living room, then took a seat on the couch, tapping the space next to her. You quickly joined her, laying your head in her lap as she caressed your cheek.

"I thought you were far more adjusted, so I rushed us into the next step. You just weren't ready yet, and it clearly startled you. I'm sorry," she said, a regretful smile on her face.

"That's not true! I'm so ready. I love you and our son so much!"

Her eyes looked so sad, as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"You don't even know," she whispered forlornly, before perking back up. "But, we'll work it out. We're in it now, the only thing to do is move forward!"

You felt lulled under by her gentle caresses, drifting off into a nightmare filled sleep. The last thing you saw, was a bitter expression on her face. Not that you'd remember it when you woke up screaming. You never did.

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Guard Captain Aram (M) x F!Reader (wip)

Because I feel bad with how long this is taking to come out, and I am currently stuck on how to proceed, I'm posting this as is.

I intend to complete it annd post it as a whole, but since I'm stuck, you got this. Consider this as a type of two-parter until I can work out how to write someone having a date and how conversations work. I swear I'm a good writer, guys!!! I know how sentences and dialogue works.

Words: 9.9k

Theme/Plot:  (Fantasy/Medieval)  You're a merchant, new to the city looking to start a business from the ground up. Having purchased a cheap, run-down building as your starting point, you work hard to make something of the little things you have. But after a string of robberies, you find yourself as the centre of the Guard Captain's attention.

The rain came down in pouring sheets. Deafening you inside your own dwelling as a year's worth of rain pummeled the tiled roof.

Thunder clapped overhead so close to the city roofs that the window panels shook in their frames.

It was a gloomy day. One that made the hours in the shop drag by at a snail's pace. Not a soul was out today. For good reason, or else they’d risk being washed away by the water flowing down the street drains. Thankfully, there was alot of old stock you needed to organize and catalog to keep you busy.

The storm was a blessing in disguise. Despite the chilly weather.

With the lack of customers to keep an eye on and take commissions for, it allowed you to tune up the shop within your actual work hours. And not drip over into the late afternoon like you dreaded.

And with the ample amount of downtime came the close inspection of how your little, ancient store held up in such a harsh rainstorm.

The last of your money had gone into buying this place. It was a cheap sale and the reasons for it were obvious. A small shop with a small dwelling connected to the back of it for residential purposes.

The paint on the front was peeling and much of the wooden beams needed some love and care. The windows had needed to be removed and replaced; they had been so grimey and cracked that it made the store look sickly from the outside. And dark and gloomy within.

Not to mention the rot within the wood in some places. Which had soaked up that lingering few coins you had after the sale. But it was better than leaving the place smelling like decaying wood and having openings for rats.

The roof seemed fine, the tiles were covered in moss and some were cracked, but you didn’t see any damage other than age.

It has been months since you bought it and this had been the first real change in sunny weather, so you were walking around the place constantly looking for leaks.

So far, nothing splashed against the wooden floor. Your little shack was holding up nicely under the rain, even if the walls groaned rather worryingly whenever the wind rushed through the city streets.

The shop was nothing spectacular, you knew that. But it was yours. And it was a much nicer place than the roadside stall you used to man while you traveled.

You glanced out the window as a flash of white light illuminated the dreary street outside. And winced at the image of you and your old horse and wagon in such weather.

Many times you had been caught out in storms like this. Losing stock to the water or your wagon’s wheels getting sucked into the muddy roads.

Looking back into your warm, dry shop; a new type of appreciation came to you with your decision to settle down. And you took a deep breath of dusty, humid air and smiled.

Your shop.

It still felt weird to say. But it was still just as exciting.

Over the thunder and tumbling rain, your shop-door’s bell chimed. Alerting you to two customers that all but barrelled into the dry space.

They were soaking. But smiled cheerfully as you greeted them. One had an umbrella that looked like the wind had torn it asunder and both their hoods were raised low over their faces. Leaving only their wide smiles for you to see.

“We are so sorry for dragging water in here.” One said, a woman. Rubbing her arms to retain some heat beneath the thick cloak. “But we’re in need of some alchemy ingredients, if you have any. You’re the closest store to ours and we’re low on some things to make cold remedies.”

The other customer, with the torn umbrella, looked around your small store with a grin. “You’ve really spruced this place up. It’s so much nicer here than what I last remember. The last owner did not care for this building at all.”

You smiled as their hoods were lowered. You recognized them as the potions store owners down the street. You spoke briefly once. They were nice people. But very busy. And their names eluded you, unfortunately.

“Welcome! And don’t worry about the water, it’s unavoidable at the moment. I think I tracked in half the realm’s mud this morning. Please, come in. What did you need exactly? I have a few stocks that might be what you need.”

The woman huffed with visible relief and hurried forward to your counter. Where you withdrew some small boxes of bottled ingredients and jars of various substances.

You didn’t sell anything but the basic materials. Your shop was more a general store than a particular theme. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to be in the city.

You’ve only ever known what you could carry. On the road, certain ingredients didn’t travel well. And jewelry or fine goods made you a target for bandits.

Here, within the safety of the city, you could be any type of trader you wanted. You just still weren’t sure what niche you wanted to be.

But your general goods were exactly what these two were looking for. And your eyes widened in surprise when they asked to buy your entire stock of your basic ingredients.

“I know it’ll put you out, but we’ll pay you an extra sum on top of the sale. Our next shipment of this isn’t for another week, and we have so many commissions coming in for cold remedies.” The man said. Already pulling out a large coin purse from his belt. “And you’ll be doing us a huge favor. If you need anything-”

“It’s a deal.” You said, waving away the man’s pleading stare. “We’ve got to look after each other after all. I was going to offer a discount since you’re buying such a large amount.”

The bell over your door chimed and you shifted behind your counter so you could see around the couple. A young woman shuffled into the store. Her eyes looked around the shelves with interest and a thin cloak was wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” You called out to the woman. Seeming to startle her. But she smiled, it felt a little forced, and moved deeper into your store. Her eyes darted around and then back to you.

You were about to say something else when the potion’s woman handed you a sum of coins. “I insist. I know how frustrating it can be to be out of stock. Particularly ingredients like this. Please, take the extra sum. You’re doing us a huge favor with-”

The woman’s partner glanced over his shoulder as the woman at the back moved quickly towards the door. Her shoulders were hunched as she braced for the cold water to hit her as she opened the door.

“Hey! You, wait!” He shouted but the woman was already sprinting out the door. Almost slipping on the wet pavement outside. The potion’s man swore and handed his partner the purse. “That girl is the one who stole from us last week. Get the guards!”

Before you could react, the man was barreling out of your store and charging out into the rain. His partner seemed just as surprised as you but quickly pocketed the purse and looked at you.

“Do you have a way to summon the guards directly here?” You shook your head. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “I have one in my store. I’ll go call them. See if you can find out if that woman stole anything from you. I’ll be right back.”

The woman left her crate of goods behind as she hurried out of your shop. You were quick to follow, but went to where you last saw the woman browsing.

Your eyes flew from object to object. Taking note of any spots that seemed to have shifted or had missing stock.

Everything seemed fine. Until you noticed your small display of wands had been touched. These weren’t like the wands that witches and warlocks used. But temporary magical items that did various things depending on their make.

You had ordered these as a step into selling magical merchandise. To see how well they sold here. Kids adored the ones that created bubbles of light. And a few people purchased the design that acted as a quill that would write for you without you touching it.

You had recently restocked the display with other types. And there were two that were missing.

One was a water-make. Which either made water or removed it. Not enough to drain a lake or a pool, but a few buckets could be filled or emptied if needed.

And the second was a fire starter. Which spat sparks that would harmlessly bounce off of skin or clothes, but would light a small fire on even the most water-bogged logs or extinguish it.

You sighed. Already understanding why these particular items were stolen.

You’ve dealt with enough desperate people to know when it was necessity and not greed that pushed a person to steal.

You bit your lip. These wands weren’t expensive and were cheap stock to order.

Maybe if I’m quick I can stop the potions woman from calling the guards. You thought. But then you reminded yourself that the woman who stole from you, had also stolen from them. And over the first few months of owning and stocking this store, you’ve had more than your fair share of robberies and stolen items. If word got out that you let a person steal from you, this could spiral into something worse.

The best you could do for them was not press charges if the person is found.

You sighed again. Heavier than the last and moved through your store to get your cloak.

But on your way to the back, past a small lock-box display of jewelry, you noticed the glass lid had been pried open. The magical seal had been expertly dispelled and one of your silver rings, one that created a bubble of small protection, was missing.

You swore under your breath. Disappointment flooding through you.

Now you had to continue with the guards and hope they found the person.

That ring was an expensive item. The enchantment was a common one, but the ring amplified the bubble to be the size of a house. Something that was incredibly hard to do and would have taken alot of material to make such an enchantment safe and usable.

Hence why it was in a lock-box, under magical protection, and worth a decent sum of coins. Another one of your stretches into unknown territory with sales and items.

It was nothing so expensive that it would put a target on your store. But it was one of your pricier items, one that a customer had been eyeing off last time they passed through.

“They just had to steal that.” You grumbled. Slapping the lid back down on the lock-box. The seal buzzed as the box was closed again, letting you know the magic was once again activated. You gave it an experimental tug on the lid and when it didn’t open, without your key, you were happy enough to leave it.

You retrieved your cloak from the back of the shop and exited your store. Making sure the door was locked and hurried down the street to the potions store.

You were near drenched when you slipped into the two story building. But the moment your foot stepped over the threshold, you were flooded with warmth and your clothes tickled with magic that left you dry and comfortable.

You definitely needed that enchantment on your front door.

From behind the many shelves, the potions woman appeared, looking flustered as she hurried towards you. “The guards are on their way. Did that wretched thing take anything?”

“Some low magic wands and an enchanted ring.” You grimaced. “I don’t care for the wands, so much. But that ring is expensive. As long as I get that back, I’ll let it slide.”

The woman scoffed and gestured for you to follow her, leading you to the back of the store where a pot of tea and some small biscuits were waiting. “That woman stole two potions of healing and an iron-bark elixir from us. I know times are tough. And the potions were only small portions, not worth alot. But the iron-bark elixir is a very slow and ingredient heavy process. We can only make so many a month and they're in high demand with the guards and travelers. If she only stole the potions, we wouldn’t have pushed so hard to find her. But the elixir alone can fix us up for an entire month.”

Your eyes widened. “Those elixirs are that expensive?”

“Ours are, yes.” The woman said, a little proudly, as she poured you a cup of tea. “Ours doesn’t just give you thick skin and more strength, we’ve perfected a way that the aftereffect of the elixir doesn’t put you in a bed for a day. It’ll affect you for a few hours at best after you use the elixir but unlike our competitors iron-bark, you can get up and get ready for the day after a good night’s sleep.”

You whistled in appreciation for such craftsmanship. “That’s incredible. I can understand why she would try to take it then. Sell it off for some quick coin.”

The woman nodded. Sipping her tea after putting some honey in it and stirring. “I grew up very poor. I used to steal bread and clothes to get by. But stealing potions like ours? You put yourself at such risk for it. Even your ring! The wands can be overlooked. But something like that is just…silly.”

You stirred some honey into your own cup and allowed the conversation to fall away as you sipped. Thankfully, the potions man appeared in the doorway. Looking winded and red faced. “I couldn’t find her. The damn woman gave me the slip.”

“Better you don’t approach her, love.” The woman said, with a soft smile. “Let the guards deal with her. They’re on their way.”

The man nodded. Taking a deep breath that his body obviously needed. He looked at you and offered a smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t catch her. Did she steal anything?”

You explained the stolen stock and the man tsked. Muttering about the lack of respect for shopkeepers; “Especially one such as yourself. You’re just starting out! I recall my first few years as a storekeeper, my Gods, the ledger was never full enough. And every piece of missing stock was precious.”

You nodded, chuckling along with the man as he shook his head. “Well, at least our sale will help me out until I can get a replacement or the ring is found. I’ll bring the stock over once we’ve spoken with the guards. I didn’t think to bring it over just now.”

The two waved you off. Saying they trust you enough to not skip their deal because of a distraction like this.

The three of you chatted idly while you waited for the guards to arrive.

And when they did, you immediately recognized three amongst them.

One was a tall elf woman by the name of Yesrie. Dark hair with sharp eyes but a warm smile.

The second was a human man named Smith. You never got his first name because everyone called him by his second. He had been in his first year in the Guard when you arrived; eager to help and prove himself, he had taken your reports on missing items like a personal attack. And hunted them down like he was the one who owned them.

Then the third, the Guard Captain’s right hand, Briar. A green lizardman built like a stone barn. They were a stoic type of individual. Had a sharp tongue when it came to humbling their guards but professional when it came to their work.

They all greeted you a little more warmly than they did with the pair beside you.

Your first few months here allowed you to become quite friendly with the Guard. Not by any intent of your own, but your new store in town got more attention than you bargained for. And not in a good way. Stolen merchandise meant the Guard got involved. And it happened so often within a few weeks that the Guard Captain had stepped in.

And with that sort of attention watching your store, the thieves dissipated quickly.

“(Y/N), why am I not surprised your shop was involved?” Briar asked, crossing their arms over their armor plated chest. Their iron gauntlets clinked against the metal. “I had hoped that the call meant a different store.”

You shrugged, sighing dramatically. “It wouldn’t be a Thursday without something of mine going missing.”

Smith and Yesrie laughed. Briar’s reptilian face rarely showed much emotion other than a hard stare. But you glimpsed their scaly lips twitch in amusement.

“Indeed. You know the drill, then. What happened? Every little detail, as you know, helps us out.”

You explained the events that transpired within your store. Explaining why the potion-store owners were involved, which gave them a chance to explain how they recognized the person who stole from you.

Briar nodded along, taking in everything you said. Yesrie commented they were the guard that took the potion store’s report and that this thief was targeting many stores in the district, not just a few.

Smith was writing down notes in a small notebook that was the size of his palm. Asking the usual questions like the woman’s hair color or description. Which you had to let the potion shop owners answer, because you didn’t really take notice of the woman.

Then when you got to the descriptions of the stolen items, Briar’s tail twitched in irritation. Nothing directed at you, you found out. “Well, that complicates things. Stolen magical items of significant power require a formal report issued by the owner. Meaning, (y/n), you’re gonna have to go to the Guard House and fill one out.”

You groaned in annoyance. You had to fill out a report once before. It took forever. And you really didn’t feel like going across the district to the Guard House in this weather.

But if you want that ring back, or at least be compensated for its loss, you’ll need to go.

“I’m guessing I’ll need the paperwork I received for purchasing the item to sell?” You asked and Briar nodded.

“Proof of purchase or the license which came with the item. Anything that has the item’s description and magic detailed alongside your ownership. And it’s something you need to do at the House, too. We can’t issue you one, since you need a scribe to sign off on it and witness you filling it out.”

“All that for a magical item?” The potions woman scoffed. “Damn, I’m happy we never got into that side of the business.”

You wish you could agree with her. But you were definitely going to make an adjustment to your stock and protection so you didn’t have to go through this again.

“Alright. Thank you for your time. Sorry you had to march through this weather for my store again.” You said. And Yesrie shrugged, glancing out the window as another flash of lightning lit up the dim street outside.

“The weather makes you appreciate the sunny days more. We’ll see you at the House, (y/n).” Yesrie replied. And the guards took their leave.

You soon followed suit. Promising the potion owners you would bring their merchandise around soon. But they waved you off. Telling you to deal with the reports and the guards first before worrying about them.

You were beginning to really appreciate them. And made sure to lower the price on anything the two needed in any later deals.

Back inside your shop you made quick work of finding the needed documents that involved any transaction or information of the ring.

Which you then wrapped up in a leather satchel that was worn and aged from many years on the road. An old trusty item you’ve carried with you everywhere before placing it in the drawer of your new work desk.

It would protect the documents from the rain and keep them nice and flat while you trekked the stormy streets.

You wrapped yourself up in as much water-proof clothing as you could. Your cloak was your best chance at keeping yourself dry but watching the sky still bucket down torrents of water, you doubted you’d stay warm for long.

As long as the documents were safe, you could endure the rain.

And walking through the streets was just about as miserable as you expected. You stuck to any type of cover you could as you walked. Storefront canopies or trees that were planted along the paths. The thunder felt like it was roaring directly in your ear as you braced against the chilling wind.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around you and pulled your hood down so low over your face you could only see the pavement in front of you.

Every glance up at where you were going was a risk of cold water trickling down your neck and into your warm clothes.

You zigged and zagged through the district until you came upon the large stone steps of the Guard House. The House itself was huge! Meant to house many of the district's officers and their cadets. This one also doubled as a school for fresh-faced persons looking to become a guard.

As you climbed the steps to the door, you could hear someone yelling at said cadets beyond the stone wall that secluded the training yards from the streets.

You grimaced at the thought of training in such weather.

As you stepped through the doors, the same magic from the potion shop passed over your clothes. However, this enchantment felt like it was spluttering. Parts of you were left dry while other sections were left merely damp.

You were warmer than before you stepped inside but your fingers still felt icy as you approached the receptionist at the desk.

You greeted them warmly and explained what you needed to fill out. And the receptionist motioned for you to walk down a hallway and then turn right, which would lead you to the scribes that would help you out.

You thanked her and headed in your pointed direction.

The House was bustling with activity. You passed many guards through the halls, swathed in armor and weapons. A few scribes hurried by and you even made room for a woman with a mean looking hound to pass you in the hall.

She thanked you as she kept the beast on a short leash. The hound didn’t pay you any mind so you knew it was more for your sense of space than the dog’s.

But you found the scribe room easily enough and the man behind the desk went through the process of the report.

It was a long document too. With a handful of pages that you needed to fill out and agree too. The scribe looked equally annoyed with the prospect, apparently he needed to go over it and sign off as you went. It would take time out of both of your afternoon’s. But he took you to the side to a desk so you could sit comfortably and fill it out.

Excusing himself and asking you to call him over when you got to a particular section before moving on through the document.

You hoped the scribe didn’t think your agitation was directed at him as you sighed and sat down. But you got to work, reading over the lengthy questions and paragraphs with a quill in your hand.

A few minutes later, Briar entered the room and went to the scribe desk, speaking softly. When the scribe nodded and disappeared through a door, their eyes passed over you once before snapping back as they spotted you. They came over to greet you. Their tail dripped a little with rainwater. “Ah, it’s good to see someone with initiative. You got here quickly.” Briar said, leaning against another desk to your left.

“Better to get it out of the way now than later.” You shrugged. “You wouldn’t have happened to stumble across my thief with my ring by chance? So I don’t have to do this?” You asked, hopefully. But Briar shook their head.

That twitch pulled at their scaly lips again as a hissing chuckle whistled through their sharp teeth.

“If only we were that lucky. I have to do my own paperwork about it, as well. I envy you. I’d rather do your documents than my own.” Like the scribe was summoned, he appeared and placed a thick folder of paper on the front desk. Briar thanked him gruffly and went over to scoop it up. Grumbling as he showed you the thickness of the folder. “See. No complaining from you about lengthy reports. I will probably beat you on every account.”

You laughed and nodded. “I do feel a little better about my report now. Thanks.”

“Here to help. Enjoy.” Briar said with a curt nod before leaving the room.

You refocused your attention on the documents in front of you. Calling over the scribe when he didn’t look too busy once you got up to the section he requested.

And while he looked over what you wrote and ensured everything was in order, you let your gaze wander. The scribe hall looked like a bustling library. Desks and chairs were scattered about the room. And behind the front desk were many, many towering shelves of books and scrolls.

Scribes appeared and disappeared behind each corridor of paper. Some carried in armfuls of paper or were discussing something with a guard.

It was all very busy here. But the chatter was rather quiet. You wondered if there was some sort of magic that kept the sound of the hustle and bustle at a low range.

“Scribe Harry, I was told that- Oh, (y/n), what are you doing here?” Your attention snapped to the door of the hall as your name was voiced.

Guard Captain Aram strolled over to where you were sitting. Making your heart skip a beat when he leaned over the back of your chair to inspect the report.

Aram was an orc with a heavy green complexion that contrasted the pale patches of skin on his body caused by vitiligo. His blonde hair was tied back in uniform to the neat standards of the Guard.

His tusks curved out from his lower lip, decorated by silver caps on the blunt tips. His thick arms were wrapped in thick leather that slid under a heavy metal chest piece with the Guard’s symbol carved into the steel. The patches on his shoulders displayed his rank, if the better armor and air of authority didn’t already display it.

“I was robbed again.” You sighed. Pushing down the sudden rush of nervousness as you turned your attention to the captain. “A magical item this time. Briar came and sorted it out and told me to come here.”

Aram’s brows knitted together and you could have sworn you saw a spark of amusement light in those beautiful emerald eyes. Before the stoic expression of a guard captain fell back into place. “Ah, yes, the grand paperwork involved with magic. I thought you said you wanted to keep simple stock for a time.”

You nodded. Having to pause your answer to thank the scribe as he pushed the report back to you to continue writing. “Yes. But a friend of mine had some stock they couldn’t move in the settlement nearby. So, I took it off their hands.”

“And then someone decided to take it from yours.” Aram said. He glanced over at the scribe as he moved some dropped off paperwork into the shelves behind him. “Hmm, this will go quicker if I take over for the scribes. The poor bastards have had their hands full recently.” Then Aram called out to the scribe nearby, Harry, who looked relieved when Aram explained he’d be taking over witnessing you finish the report.

“Do you mind if we do this in my office? The magic in here makes my ears ache.” Aram asked. And when you nodded, Aram escorted you through the building to his office. Which you had been in once before when Aram had taken over the investigation of why your store was being targeted so frequently.

He closed the door behind you and you took the offered seat in front of his desk. Which he then slid your seat closer to the desk and made space on the surface for you to start the next section of the report.

He moved your chair so effortlessly with you in it that it made your stomach flip a little giddily. But you hid your smile as you busied yourself with reading over the next section.

“I was recently thinking about you. And, uh, the reports you had to make on your store.” Aram said rather quickly, fiddling with some papers on his desk. “It’s been a while since your last break in. I thought my trick did the job, to be honest.”

“For a while it did.” You agreed. Pausing to write down the description of the ring. “The extra patrols you had around the place seemed to scare them off. And gave me enough time to better the security of my shop. I still spot Smith on occasion in the area. But he always seems busy. I hope you’re not working him too hard.”

Aram chuckled. Picking up a quill of his own and scribbling over some papers on his desk. “The boy is fine. He’s eager for the work. But, uh…” You tore your eyes off the paperwork long enough to see why Aram didn’t finish his sentence.

His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed in a poor attempt at looking angry, looking over your head to the windows behind you.

You turned your head. And you caught a glimpse of something quickly darting out of view of the office. The room was enclosed but anyone in the hallways had a clear view of you sitting at Aram’s desk. The Guard Captain grumbled and stood, clearing his throat as he flicked a small switch and curtains fell down over the windows leading to the corridor outside.

“Nosy bastards.” You heard Aram mutter. But you pretended not to hear him as he returned to his seat and continued working on whatever was in front of him. “I was going to say he wanted to be set in that district. Apparently, his aunt lives around there.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of him. I’ll be sure to annoy him any chance I get when I see him.” You said, refocusing on the paper in front of you. You reached the next spot the scribe had told you to call for him and offered the papers to Aram.

Who went over the report swiftly and then handed it back to you after he signed off on the part he needed too.

“A ring of protection, huh? That didn’t move at your friend's establishment?” Aram asked, surprised. And you shook your head, writing as you responded.

“Their town was going through a drought. Which is probably being washed downriver right now with this rain. But no one had the money to purchase a ring like that. I offered to buy it off them and then give them a percentage if I manage to sell it. We used to travel together before they bought their store. They helped me get my place. Since I had no idea how to purchase property.”

Aram made a thoughtful noise, watching you as you worked. “Why didn’t you buy a place outside the city? Probably would have been cheaper. And also get you a better place than that splinter shack.”

“Hey, that’s my splinter shack you’re insulting.” You playfully snapped. Which made the Guard Captain laugh. “But I wanted to try the city. I’ve never stayed in one for long. And I thought a change of lifestyle would be refreshing.”

“And is it refreshing?” Aram asked.

You paused to look up at him, smiling. “Well, the people are much more interesting.” You let the sentence hang in the air for a touch longer before continuing. “And there’s always something happening here. And the food! Oh my Lords, I’ve never had such a wide variety of food always available. Every morning I get a fresh coffee with a freshly baked bun. A much better change than living off of dried meats and stale bread with cheese.”

Aram grinned at that. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the candlelight. “So, you think you’ll stay here for good then. This string of robberies hasn’t scared you off?”

You scoffed lightly and shook your head. “I’ve fought off armed bandits and kobolds from my goods before. A few hooded figures isn’t going to scare me off. I’ve gotten too comfortable sleeping in an actual bed now to give it up.”

Your words seemed to widen Aram’s smile. “Well, good to hear. The city always needs more good people like you in it. It would be a shame to see you go.”

Something in the way Aram spoke made your pulse quicken. Or maybe how his fingers brushed over your hand as you handed him the documents again for him to look over.

Either way, you were suddenly very aware of how little room there was between the two of you. Even if the desk was large enough to sit such a big man behind it, it felt like Aram was close enough to touch.

And as you took back the paperwork, you thought it was silly of you to think that he was putting his hand directly so that your fingers brushed over his.

It didn’t stop you from feeling how warm his hand was. Nor notice how much larger his hand was compared to yours.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and you tried very hard to concentrate on the papers in front of you.

It still took an hour to go over everything, but you managed to finish the documents required. Aram took it upon himself to file it away as soon as possible. And asked you a few more questions about the robbery before opening the door of his office for you.

“I’ll be in touch in a few days.” Aram said, leaning against the doorframe. “If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you for your time, Captain Aram.” You said and then added jokingly. “And I’ll be sure to let you know if something else goes missing from my store.”

Aram laughed. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Then he glanced to one of the nearby windows as a crash of thunder sounded overhead “Have you got a way of getting back to your store? It’s still pouring outside.”

You grimaced and a shiver ran over you at the thought of the walk back. It was later in the afternoon now. The sun wouldn’t be set yet, but with the dark clouds overhead and closing to sunset, it was already pretty dark outside.

“No. It’s not that far of a walk, though. I’ll be fine.” You lied. And knew Aram would know this was your attempt at being polite and not complaining.

Aram’s warm smile dimmed and he shook his head. “I’m not having you walk home in this. I’ll get someone to drive you back.”

Your eyes widened and you tried to make an excuse that would justify not needing a driver. But Aram caught sight of Smith walking past and called him over.

“Yes, Captain?” Smith said as he approached. Looking between you and Aram worriedly.

“Get a carriage and drive (y/n) back to her store. And no side stops on your way back, got it.” Aram said, his voice harsh with authority as Smith’s confusion turned into something close to amused glee. He nodded and then looked at you.

“Your chariot is this way, ma’am.” He said with a little more bravado than needed. And you looked at Aram with a joking glare.

“You’re really going to subject me to this?” You asked. And Aram’s stern facade broke with a smile.

“I’d rather not hear that you got washed away by a river on your way home. Get her home safe, Smith.” Aram said before closing the door and leaving you to a beaming Smith as you followed him through the House.

“So, what did you and the Captain talk about in there?” Smith asked. Wiggling his shoulders in a teasing manner as he led you out into an enclosed barn connected to the Guard House. Where a carriage was currently being connected to two brown horses.

“He was overseeing the report I needed to fill out about the ring.” You explained. Ignoring the tiny flush of embarrassment that crawled up your neck. “The scribes were busy and he had time.”

Smith blew a harsh breath out of his lips. “Puh-lease, the Captain never has time.” And then so quietly you almost missed it. “But that seems to change for you.”

You chose to ignore him and wait by the House doors while Smith spoke with the person hooking the animals up. He then waved you over and opened the carriage door for you.

“My Lady.” He bowed his head and you tsked playfully at him.

“Stop that. It’s embarrassing enough as it is. Being escorted back home by a guard.” You mumbled as you climbed inside. Which got you a laugh from Smith.

“Come on, enjoy it! How many times have you been safely escorted home like the rich folk? Beat on the roof if you need me to stop for anything, alright?”

Smith closed the door once you were comfortably seated and you heard him clamber onto the front of the carriage.

The carriage itself wasn’t anything extravagant. The seats were plush enough to stop you from sitting on hard wood and there was enough space to fit four people.

It still felt a bit excessive for only you to be in here. But at least you weren’t going to be walking in the rain.

Your body lurched a little as Smith urged the horses into moving. And soon enough the carriage was filled with the deafening roar of rain pelting the roof above you.

You felt bad for Smith sitting up front. You had glimpsed a small canopy over the driver's seat. But that would be very little protection against the storm as it whipped around him outside.

You sighed. Relaxing against the seat as you glanced through the fogged window to the passing streets.

They were mostly empty. Apart from a few store fronts preparing to close for the afternoon. And some carriages that trotted past.

You haven’t gotten to experience a carriage ride in the city yet. You’ve been so busy with the store that any luxuries you usually would have gotten with your money were forgotten. Or spent on the store itself.

It was kind of peaceful watching the city pass you by.

You would definitely be sending another bakery basket to Aram for this. He had enjoyed the first one you sent after he helped keep your store safe last time.

I’m not having you walk home in this.

His words bounced around in your head like an endless echo. And you found yourself smiling.

And the way he had put his hand in the path of yours? It made your heart skip just thinking about it.

You shook your head. Trying to scatter the thoughts that were attempting to wriggle into your mind.

“Oh, stop it.” You sighed to yourself. “He’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s his job after all.”

You knew you wanted it to be a lie the moment you said it.

But you refused to think of any other reason that Aram would be doing this. You didn’t need something like that in your life just yet. You were busy as it was.

But…A small voice whispered. You definitely need something like him. Even only for a night or two.

Your cheeks burned as the thoughts spiraled and you shook your head again. Refusing to let those thoughts get any more traction than they already have.

It…has been a long time. But you were a business woman now. You had more important things at this moment than scratching that itch. Once the store was a little more organized and things calmed down, then maybe, maybe, you’d think about it.

You sat in your hurricane of a mind as Smith drove through your district and finally came to a stop just outside your store.

You went to open the door but Smith was already there. Drenched from head to toe but all smiles, bowing his head dramatically.

“My Lady! A pleasant ride, I hope.”

“Oh my Gods, you poor thing. Get back as quickly as you can before you catch a cold.” You gasped as you slipped out of the carriage. Hurrying to the safety of your store front.

“I’m fine. Get inside! I’ll let the Captain know you’re safely at your castle.” Smith called over the rain. And you didn’t even bother retorting, merely stuck out your tongue at him as you waved him off.

You heard him laugh and watched through your store windows as the carriage pulled away and disappeared into the heavy sheets of rain.

~*~

A few days later, the bell over your door chimed as someone entered. You called out to the customer that you’d be with them shortly and finished what you were doing in the back before greeting them behind your counter.

“Aram!” You beamed as the Guard Captain approached you. “What a surprise! Good news? Or bad news?”

Aram made a face like he was deciding, jokingly clicking his tongue as he leaned his arms on your counter. Crossing them over each other and coming down to your eye height.

“Which do you want first?” He asked.

You pursed your lips, hopelessly ignoring how Aram’s gaze flicked to your mouth before returning to your eyes as you said, “Good news first.”

“We found the woman who stole your items. Your ring is being processed and looked over to ensure it hasn’t been tampered with. It’ll take a few days to get back to you.”

You sighed with relief. “That’s good. But…the bad news?”

Aram’s grin made his eyes crinkle adorably as he shuffled his weight on his feet. He cleared his throat and it felt like he was forcing his gaze to stay on you. “The bad news is that I lost a bet involving the case. And you unfortunately will be put on the spot as I ask you out to dinner.” He cleared his throat again and stood at attention in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as he swallowed hard and said. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

It was almost adorable at how worried Aram looked as you stared up at him. And it was even more so when relief washed over his expression as you nodded.

Before you realized you were even replying, you had said yes. You laughed sheepishly, shaking your head. “You lost a bet and you were forced to ask me out to dinner?”

“I wouldn’t say forced. That makes it sound like I didn't want to.” Aram replied. Scratching the back of his neck, under the thick braid of blonde hair. “I want to take you to dinner. I have for a bit now. I just…things got in the way and I wasn’t sure if you would be interested in me and…I’m sorry. I’m rambling.” He cleared his throat again. “This is me asking you to dinner, sincerely.”

“What would have happened if you didn’t?” You asked.

“Probably be called a coward by my men.” Aram replied. “Or someone would have done it for me, I’m sure. Or somehow talked you into asking me out. I don’t know. They’re very nosy. Very much like a bunch of highschoolers.”

“But they gave you an opening to ask me out to dinner. So, I would forgive them.” You said with a chuckle. And Aram visibly relaxed with the sound. “When would you like to set this dinner? I’m free most afternoons. I’m sure it’s your schedule we have to work around.” You said teasingly. And Aram nodded.

“I’ll free up my night next Friday, if that’s ok with you? I know it’s a while away but this week is choked up with work already.” When you nodded, Aram’s smile broadened and your body became heated under his sparkling gaze. You both discussed a place to eat, but since you rarely went out other than cafes and small take-away establishments, Aram promised he’d surprise you with a brilliant place to dine. “I’ll pick you up around seven? If the rain hasn’t stopped by then, I’ll bring a carriage around for us to use.”

You sarcastically rolled your eyes, “Please do not make Smith drive us. That was torture last time.”

Aram laughed but shook his head. “No, no. I won’t be letting those vultures anywhere near our dinner. I promise.”

Once you confirmed again the time and date, Aram excused himself, having to continue his patrol around the district. And the moment he left, your heart soared with excitement at the thought of dinner with Aram.

~*~

Friday couldn’t come any quicker.

The rest of the week fell into a snail like pace, dragging day and night until the morning of your dinner date with Aram.

The rain didn’t subside. Most of the city was now flooded or close to it.

You had braced your store for the worst. Purchasing new tables with waterproofing and protective surfaces, so if the water started to rise and your store was flooded, at least some of your merchandise would be saved.

Coincidentally, as you were unloading the transport carriage that had said furniture, three city guards came over to help unload them.

You didn’t know any of them, but you thought it was sweet that some passing guards saw you and the transport man struggling to move a table, and decided to help.

But that seemed to become a pattern over the course of the week leading to Friday.

You saw more guards than usual in the district and some greeted you as if you knew them. Smith came over to you whenever you were out. Conversing until he needed to leave for his patrol and you needed to return to the shop.

Briar dropped by and returned the ring to you. They was a lot more friendly than the prior meetings you had with them. They actually cracked a few jokes with you.

You finally caved when Yesrie just happened to be in the area on Friday morning. Popping by with a coffee for you. “Are all of you around here because I’m going out with Aram?” You asked. And Yesrie was terrible at feigning ignorance, even if she was joking the entire time she replied.

“You’re going out with my captain? That’s amazing! I didn’t know at all.”

You rolled your eyes and shooed her out of your store. Thanking her for the coffee and company before you needed to get to work.

But finally, the time came to close the store and begin getting ready for your date.

You chose something simple to wear but something to also make you look downright gorgeous. Being in the city had its perks and the ample amount of shops around allowed you to browse and pick something amazing for yourself.

You had half the thought it could be a touch overdressed, but you weren’t sure where Aram was taking you. And you did look good in it! So you wrestled down the nerves and waited for Aram to arrive.

You kept your hands busy with small things in your shop before a heavy knock sounded on your front door.

You quickly opened the door for Aram and he stepped inside wrapped in a thick cloak and hood sprinkled by the rain.

“Damn, look at you, (y/n).” Aram beamed. His eyes didn’t seem to know where to look. They definitely lingered along your chest and hips, but respectfully flicked up to hold your gaze very quickly when he caught himself staring. “I feel a little underdressed now.”

You glimpsed his attire beneath the cloak. Dark dress pants with a deep brown shirt that hugged his large frame snugly. He had decorative leather bracers along his wrists and his hair was neatly bundled up in a collection of braids. Each had small trinkets adorning the strands.

“Nonsense,” You said a little breathlessly. Have you ever seen this man out of uniform? “You look very dashing.”

Your words made his smile crinkle his eyes and he opened his cloak up to you. Nodding to the carriage waiting outside. “I forgot to bring you an umbrella.”

“Ah, yes. I also don’t own one.” You said, hoping the way you moved up beside him didn’t seem too eager.

And you absolutely had an umbrella. But you were not going to miss an opportunity to snugly press yourself against Aram.

Once you were standing against his side, Aram lowered his arm enough that the cloak surrounded you almost entirely. A sweet scent wafted off of him to you and you shivered as your arm brushed against his side.

He was so warm!

Together you exited the store, halting long enough to lock the front and then quickly dash to the carriage. Where a driver was waiting in the rain to open the door for the two of you.

You felt utterly terrible for the man. But as you clambered into the carriage, you caught a glimpse of your driver.

An automaton. A being made of metal and mechanical parts bowed their head as you greeted them. Their clothes were drenched but they didn’t seem to mind as Aram joined you in the carriage, taking the seat next to you, and the automaton closed the door behind him.

“Did you hire a driver for tonight?” You asked. Baffled by the beautiful interior of the carriage. It was much fancier than the one Smith drove you in. And the rain didn’t thunder the roof in this one. You could barely hear it as Aram responded.

“No. This is my carriage. Anthony out there works for me.” Aram said this as if it was a normal occurrence for someone to have an automaton driver. Or their own fancy carriage.

You tried not to balk at his words. Instead made room for him to remove the damp cloak and fold it on the seat across from the both of you.

“I didn’t know being a Guard Captain paid so well.” You teased. Watching Aram as he adjusted his shirt and ensured his bracers were still correctly placed on his wrists. There was a slight scruff along his cheeks and he had replaced the silver caps on his tusks with gold ones.

Damn, he dressed up nice.

Aram smiled and your heart shuddered when he winked at you. “It also pays to have been a successful adventurer beforehand.”

Your eyes widened and Aram laughed as you said, “Wait, you haven’t been a stuck up captain all your life?” Though your words were sarcastic, you couldn’t help but be impressed. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have guessed that was your past. Maybe a soldier of some kind? But not an adventurer.”

“You’d be amazed at how many guards of mine are retired adventurers or travelers looking to settle down. I knew the old captain before he retired. It sped up my promotions, I’ll admit, but I proved myself just like everyone else.” Aram admitted. Relaxing against the plush back seat of the carriage. “Chasing down burglars and walking the streets at night is a much better alternative to dungeon crawling.”

You hummed in agreement. “I do not miss the cold nights or falling asleep hungry. But there was definitely a charm to traveling that the city doesn’t have.”

It was Aram’s turn to agree with a grunt. “I do occasionally miss having the time and freedom to do whatever I want. But I wouldn’t give up my position for anything. Least of all, leave my Guards behind just to go treasure hunting.”

You caught a light twinkling in Aram’s eyes as he spoke. And his smile curled warmly at the corners. It was no secret that Aram was as loyal as any to the Guard, but there was definitely a type of kinship between them all as well.

“That does remind me,” You said, tilting your head teasingly at Aram. “Did you order more guards to patrol my district? I keep tripping over them everytime I leave the shop.”

Aram didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look pleased about what you said either. “Ah, I was wondering why some of them took longer to return after their patrols.” You waited for Aram to say something else. And when he didn’t, you set a pointed stare on him, urging him to continue whatever thought was bouncing around in his head. Aram chuckled with a half roll of his eyes. “Alright, alright. This is a little embarrassing, but I believe they’re keeping an eye on you for me. On their own accord. I haven’t ordered anymore than the usual patrols in your district. But since…well, they’re a loyal lot and they want to make sure you’re safe.”

You laughed. It made sense why you saw Smith and Yesrie more than anyone else on your streets. “All because you asked me out to dinner?”

“Well…not just because of dinner. But that’s a conversation for later.” Aram said sheepishly. And he expertly changed the subject to your store and how it was faring in the weather. You let the conversation be swept into other topics, but you definitely would hold onto that little kernel of a question for later.

The ride through the city took a little longer than you expected. But soon, the streets outside transformed into a string of establishments on the docks. And the carriage was taken through a route that ran along the rough, crashing oceanside.

The beach looked absolutely ruined from the harsh tides. And the dark gloomy horizon was nothing more than a black screen of storm clouds.

Despite the rain, the street itself was bustling with activity. Lights illuminated the roads brilliantly in warm orange. And all along the sidewalk were canopies and large overhanging roofs to give shelter to the patrons that walked by.

Your carriage was taken to a restaurant that had a grand glass ceiling and a large balcony with many tables seated beneath it. Your table was directly next to the balcony edge, where a shield of magic protected you and Aram from the torrent of rain slashing down from above.

And you found yourself pleasantly warm as Aram pushed in your chair as you took your seat. The business must have heating enchantments placed around to keep their patrons comfortable.

“This place is lovely.” You said as your waiter passed you both a menu. Excusing themselves to give you time to look over their drink choice.

“It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. The ocean view usually is better, but I can at least trust the food will be good.” Aram explained, glancing over the railing to the harsh waves and dark waters. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” You quickly reassured him. “I’m just happy to have an excuse to go out. I’ve been putting off going out for dinner for a while. I don’t know alot of people here yet. I wouldn’t know where to start.``

“Well, I hope my choice becomes one of your favorites.” Aram smiled.

The conversation fell into a simple one of work. Aram asked more questions about your store while you prodded about his life in the Guard.

“Things have gotten better over the past few months.” Aram admitted, drawing idle circles on the condensation of his cup of mead. “But I’m sure…activities will pick up closer to the holiday season. I dread to think about that time of year. But it is at least never lacking on slow days.”

“I used to avoid cities during their festival seasons. As backwards as that is for a traveling merchant.” You said in return. “It always caused me more grief than coins. But I guess it’s unavoidable now that I have a permanent spot here.”

                ~~~~To Be Continued Because my brain is stuck~~~~~~

As always, feedback or suggestions are welcome!! 

[tender-rosiey]

hiii! can i request for fyodor, dazai, and ranpo hcs about "the romantic things they would do to win your heart" ty!

“I WANT YOUR LOVE”

— how dazai, fyodor and chuuya try to win your heart

a/n: i went through the five stages of grief writing this UHOFHO also sorry I didn't include ranpo; I hope you like it nonetheless <3 up next is husband!sukuna

OSAMU DAZAI:

so, I wouldn’t say extravagant BUT I would say that it is pretty loud

like gives you a huge bouquet in front of literally everyone kind of loud

also literally shouts your name whenever he sees you, “AHH BELLADONNA, MY BEAUTIFUL Y/N HOW GORGEOUS YOU LOOK TODAY!”

the way he brightens up in your presence is also so obvious like eugh take your lovesick self away bro

he also has a special sixth sense that tells him that you’re close by

when he does get to you, he literally showers you with affection

also, you know when he ditches meetings? he would literally attend them just to be with you, if you’re there that is

same case is when he is running away from kunikida, my man chooses to live his last moments gazing at your beauty and then happily suffer kunikida’s wrath

exhibit a:

“atsushi, have you seen dazai?” kunikida asked as he and atsushi patrolled the streets.

atsushi shook his head, but quickly went to get you, who was busy finishing the taiyaki you got as a treat for yourself after a day of hard work.

however, looks like this travail won’t end so you look up at both of them and tilt your head lightly, “do you guys need something?”

atsushi doesn’t answer, but instead inhales deeply and screams, “DAZAI-SAN, Y/N IS HERE!” which you could bet that the entirety of the city heard.

it’s quiet for a while, but then you hear the sound of rapid steps and panting. the moment you look back, you’re tackled by the bandaged man who merely chirps a happy ‘belladonna!’ as the both of you land on the ground.

“here he is, kunikida-san,” atsushi says with a smile and kunikida nods thoughtfully then proceeds to scribble something in his notebook.

you do hear, amidst getting yourself squashed in a hug by dazai, kunikida mumbling something along the lines of “scream ‘y/n is here’ so dazai can appear”.

he literally doesn’t try to hide it, but that’s like in the very beginning of him falling for you

when he realizes that ‘crap it's serious’ and that he really did fall for someone

I feel like his way of trying to win your heart will change to be much more intimate and quieter

like he is still loud and chaotic on daily basis, of course

but you will find yourself sharing a lot of quiet moments where you just bask in each other’s presence

he gets protective as well, but like people can tell he IS being protective, but YOU can’t

not because you’re dumb, oblivious or anything, it’s just that dazai doesn’t want to make you feel like your relationship changed and low-key doesn’t want to make it awkward

a protective that makes you go ‘what’s wrong with dazai’ and makes the other person go ‘I need to run’

I also see him still getting you bouquets, but they will be accompanied with small notes

they could be like the following:

“you are so beautiful that I swoon for you.”

“I hope your day was as lovely as you are.”

“how can someone be this effortlessly gorgeous?”

of course, they still include comical ones

“I accidentally knocked the tomato soup on kunikida’s pants yesterday, and his face was as red as said soup from anger. you could say that ‘the time of the month’ was a bit harsh on him ;)”

I also feel like he will try to initiate conversations a lot more (idk how because like y’all already talked A LOT)

It’s just that he becomes curious about what you think of everything and purely wants to know more about you, your views in life and whatnot

you could be talking about the silliest things and he would still be so interested and fully indulge you

I see him also sharing with you places with beautiful scenery that he often goes to; it’s just so intimate and he WANTS to make you know that you’re special

he jokes and still flirts loudly, but there are quiet moments because he wants you to understand that you having a hold on his heart is no joke

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY:

hm, it’s been a while since I wrote for him

so remember how I said dazai is kind of subtle in showing his genuine interest?

well, with fyodor you can’t even tell whether he changed or not

it’s just a normal everyday fyodor

BUT there some stuff he does extra

he gets protective, but just a little

so before, he used to glare at anyone who gets near you to hurt you which makes them quickly stop in their tracks, now he just instantly grabs their hand and threatens to kill them

another thing I see him doing is like taking you to places that he finds amusement in or like enjoys lol

that’s to show you off or show you a part of him in a more obvious way

he wants to show you his interests and see if they appeal to you as well or not

if they don’t then fak you, I mean then it’s fine cause variety is key

“fyodor.”

“yes?”

“couldn’t we go to a more entertaining place?” you inquire as you sip your drink and stare at the man who got you here in the first place.

fyodor smirks lightly, “whatever do you mean? this is highly entertaining.”

“1 year olds eating chess pieces is not my kind of entertainment, but okay.”

literally does stuff like this for giggles and his actual entertainment

loves messing with you but like lowkey

I also see him starting to compliment you more, like just smol compliments and sometimes you even have to read between the lines to get it

but sometimes he doesn’t even try to hide it

like nikolai could be doing god knows what, but just know it’s chaotic and sigma is trying to stop him but it just results in more chaos

and fyodor would just sigh and say something along the lines of “truly, an intelligence similar to y/n’s must be hard to achieve especially for you two.”

nikolai just laughs a laugh that screams bro stfu

sigma is just offend cause like why insult me while flirting with y/n?? tf did I do???

I also think that he will be more recognizing or acknowledging of your talents?

like with fyodor, I think the biggest sign of him liking you is accepting you as an equal and not treating you as a pawn or someone less than him

exhibit a:

“fyodor, shouldn’t this arrangement be discussed without someone like her present?” the man sneers as he looks you up and down, “she doesn’t seem trustworthy nor intelligent enough to keep up with our conversations.”

you hold back from responding and merely look at fyodor, who looks at the man in silence. he clears his throat lightly after he sips some tea and speaks up, “my apologies, but if anyone lacks in intelligence then it’s certainly you.”

both your eyes and the man’s widen at fyodor’s reply; the man is angered and he stands up abruptly, “how dare you say that?! It is more than obvious that I possess more intelligence than your subordinate here!”

fyodor raises an eyebrow in inquiry, “who said that she is my subordinate?”

the man is confused, and so are you, but fyodor pays no mind as he continues, “about the trust part, the only reason you’re going to do your end of the deal is because of the information I hold against you,” a smirk takes its place on fyodor’s lips, “meanwhile, her, I can give her a knife and she wouldn’t stab me, even in a million years.”

lmao if that ain’t down bad and blindly in love then idk

also, as we all must’ve guessed: he is pretty classic in terms of ‘flirting’ with you

but I do see him gifting you a rose of some sort and saying a smartass line like “even with its thorns, the rose is considered a sign of love and romance; is that to imply the hardships that come with loving someone?—“

boy shut yo ass and give me the damn flower

CHUUYA NAKAHARA:

chuuya is someone really honest so I think he will be really obvious and clear about wanting to win your heart

albeit a bit on the tsundere side sometimes but oh well

it’s still a lot more open that the others I have mentioned and feels very genuine

I also believe that he would want you to know that he likes you

plus I don’t think he can hide it well anyway

so he gets teased by everyone along with yourself

“ooo, who caught the heart of our badass mafia executive?”

and he would just grumble, “wow, i wonder who.”

of course, it’s a given that he would buy you souvenirs and gifts cause HEYYYY YOU DESERVE THE BEST

exhibit a:

“y/n, I need to give you something!”

you perk up at the voice and smile at chuuya, “yeah?”

he looks you in the eye for a moment before grumbling, face a soft hue of pink, and getting out the gift he got and placing it on your desk.

“aww, chuuya, you shouldn’t have!”

he crosses his arms and looks to the side, cheeks burning slightly, “yeah yeah, but I wanted to get you something.”

the smile never leaves your face and instead gets bigger as you see what’s inside. the thing about chuuya’s gifts is that they are always thoughtful.

“do you…like it?” you hear him mumble softly and just to hug him tightly.

“thank you so much! it’s amazing! I really love it!”

he stumbles over his words before yelling, obviously flustered, “t-that’s good! but you don’t have to hug me!”

“you don’t want me to?” you ask, slightly sad and chuuya wants to kick himself for making you like that.

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT EITHER!”

lmao, I love the guy

when you guys do get into a relationship, he is a lot less shy and open for affection but we are still not there yet hehe

something to add is that he also loves taking you anywhere you like

like either drive you there with his very cool motorcycle or you guys hanging out at some place

and like the places are…very extravagant to say the least

“so what do you think of the place?”

“chuuya, the walls are painted gold.”

“and?”

“chuuya, the fountain is dripping gold.”

“you don’t deserve anything less.”

Idk about you guys but I also think chuuya is a huge tease when he wants just not as horribly or as big as dazai

like just light teasing in general but it’s still so flustering; they’re things like:

“did the doll forget her keys again?”

“poor baby, want me to kiss it for you?” (but a lot less derogatory than when he said it to dazai 🤡; he really does want to kiss the pain away for you <33)

chuuya is rather protective by default so I feel like that won’t change, maybe amplified? but you can’t tell the difference because chuuya was always willing to beat some ass anyway

I see him being pretty attentive to your needs as well

like he has a bottle of water for you ready and maybe some food along with any personal essentials. he is a little grumpy when giving it to you, but it’s just to mask how nervous he is because of your smile

another thing, i think he does is write you letters

and they most of the time have poems? since you had told him about how he somehow (he did take offense to the word) has a good way with words

he also loves getting praised by you so it’s worth it even if it makes him a bit shy

now to end this on a cute note, the beginning phase of his confession included one of his poems accompanied with a rose

and its last lines were:

“once I believed love poems were foolish yet now I do nothing but dream about love”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @waosobii

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 5

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict's eyes scan the words across the page. After your confession, he proceeded to buy one of Talbot's your poetry books.

'Tis in your eyes I seek comfort.

Your arms I find solace.

In your lips I find love.

'Tis in you that I find the whole world

Standing before in great beauty

But at an arm's length is where I stay.

The second eldest Bridgerton is in awe. Your words carry such deep meaning, a sense of longing. Is this how you feel? Had someone captured your heart and he was none the wiser?

So many questions have risen since he's learned of your secret identity. Your poetry carries a deep sense of love, desire, passion. He never expected such feelings to come from you. This is a completely different side of you he is now seeing.

In the past, when you shared your poetry with him, they had a light, romantic touch. A sense of naivety and fairy tale outlook on love and life. But as Talbot, it was different.

"Helloooo?" Eloise waves her hand in front of Benedict, breaking his concentration.

He slaps her hand away, "What?"

Eloise snorts, "I have never seen you so deep in a book before, brother."

"A few ladies mentioned Arthur Talbot's work and I figured I see what the fuss was all about."

His sister rolls her eyes, "Women fawning over men waxing romantic poetics. Typical."

"I cannot wait for the day you fall in love, sister, and make an absolute fool of yourself." Benedict stands from his place at the table in the drawing room. He steps out to see Anthony and Kate escorting you to the door. His eyes brighten, "Y/N, I wasn't aware you were here."

You nod to him, "Apologies, Mister Bridgerton. I was simply here to discuss...business with Lord Bridgerton," you gesture to Anthony.

Benedict frowns, "Why such formality with us? We've been friends for years."

"Aunt Eliza advises me that I should be formal with you. She said that there may be men who envy the idea that I am close with you. So it is best we remain more...formal."

Benedict's shoulders sag, "Very well. We mustn't deter any...future prospects."

You nod, "Thank you for understanding," you face Anthony again and curtsey, "My Lord, thank you again for the list." You then face Kate, "I shall see you later, my Lady."

"Of course. I look forward to spending more time with you."

You proceed to take your leave, Benedict's eyes following you as you exit the Bridgertons' home.

"Excuse me," Benedict murmurs, heading straight to the study and pouring himself a drink.

Anthony clears his throat as he enters the room, "Will you be okay, brother? Truly."

"I have to be. There are much better men out there that will be able to provide the life and freedom she deserves. I need to accept that." Anthony, approaches his brother and gives him a reassuring pat on his shoulders, "I commend you for doing this. It won't be easy, but with time, I'm sure you'll be alright."

"Yes...time."

_____________________________

"Tell me about yourself, Miss L/N," Lord Belmont says as he turns you about the ballroom among the other couples.

You have to admit that the man is handsome, "Well I love poetry and to read. I am a fair player of the pianoforte as well as the harp. I know Latin and Greek. I adore animals."

Lord Belmont hums, "How do you fare in the outdoors?"

"I enjoy my time riding and walking amongst nature."

The lord scrunches up his face and distaste, "Oh no. If you are to be my wife, you shall be inside at all times being lady of the house."

You look at him in disbelief, "Am I not allowed to step outside at all, my Lord?"

"Of course, but only when we need to attend balls or important festivities."

Thankfully, the dance ends and you quickly and politely excuse yourself. You head straight to the refreshment table. You grab a lemonade and gulp half the glass down.

"Are you well? You practically ran from Lord Belmont," Kate asks as she approaches you at the drinks table.

You hum, "While Lord Belmont is a handsome man, I do not think he would allow the...freedom, that I desire."

Kate nods in understanding, "I see. Well, onto the next then?" She hooks her arm around yours and guides you to the the corner of the room where Anthony, Benedict, Daphne, and a man you haven't seen before stands with them.

"Apologies, I bumped into Miss L/N at the refreshment table. She needed a break from dancing."

Daphne's eyes light up, "Wonderful! Miss L/N, this is the Duke's friend, Lord Montclair, a marquess" she gestures to the dark skinned man dressed in a navy blue velvet suit.

You curtsy, "Good evening, Lord Montclair."

He nods to you, "A pleasure, Miss L/N," he gives you a kind smile.

"Montclair, you have French heritage?"

His smile grows wider, "I do. My father is French. Have you been?"

You nod, "My family and I would travel there for the summer," your smile weakens, "Unfortunately, I have not visited for years now."

"I understand. It has been some time since I have visited as well."

You and the Marquess continue to look each other with kind eyes. Benedict hides his clenched fists behind his back. Kate watches her brother-in-law with careful eyes.

Daphne is beaming as she speaks, "Lord Montclair, Miss Y/N is well-versed in poetry."

"Really?"

You shy from his gaze, "Yes, um, my mother would read poetry all the time. I fell in love with it. I love how much emotion one can convey through few lines."

"She writes poetry, as well," Benedict speaks and you look at him in surprise, "The way her words can make you feel so much in small amounts of verses...it's a beautiful feeling."

You give him a grateful smile and turn back to Lord Montclair, "Mister Bridgerton flatters me, but I am a novice when it comes to poetry writing."

"I do hope I get to read some of your writing in the future, Miss L/N."

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as Lord Montclair gives his attention to you, "Perhaps sooner than expected, my Lord."

Lord Montclair steps closer to you, "I know you are taking a moment from dancing, but perhaps you have space on your dance card for me?"

"Of course, my Lord," you offer him your dance card and watch as he scribbles his name in the next space, which happens to be for the next dance coming up.

"Oh, it seems our dance is here," he holds out his hand, waiting for you with a smile.

You place your gloved hand in his and follow him as he escorts you to the floor. You glance back at the Bridgertons, who all watch you with eager, careful eyes.

As they all watch you waltz with the Marquess, Benedict asks his sister, "Do you vouch for the Marcquess?"

She nods, "Yes. He is very kind. He enjoys reading and archery-"

"Brother, Y/N excels in archery, correct?"

Benedict clenches his jaw, "She does." His eyes never waver from you as you smile while dancing with the marquess.

"Looks like there may be some things they have in common," Kate says, eyeing her brother-in-law.

"How wonderful for them," Benedict murmurs as he walks away from his siblings.

Meanwhile, you and the marquess move along the ballroom floor with the other participants.

"The duchess tells me that you are looking for a husband this season," Lord Montclair says with curiosity in his tone.

You sigh, "Yes, and I shall admit that the search hasn't been very fruitful." Montclair snorts and you immediately apologize, "Excuse my forwardness, my Lord-"

He shakes his head, "No no. Please, continue. I can admire a woman who freely speaks her mind."

You nod, "I just look for a man who can give me certain freedoms. A husband that will allow me to pursue passions of mine, not expect me to sit there to be seen and not heard."

The marquess hums, "It just so happens that I am in the search for a wife."

You arch a brow at him, "Oh?"

"Yes. To be transparent, I have been grieving for the past two years at the loss of my wife. I loved her dearly, but I miss the companionship."

"I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. I also understand the yearning for companionship."

"Thank you. No one could ever replace, Maria, but I would like someone to be at my side as I continue on with life."

"Tell me about her," you kindly request.

You watch as a smile grows on the man's face. He goes on to share stories about Maria and you share things about yourself. You see the sadness in him but the willingness to put himself out there again. It's admirable.

________________________

You spend a large portion of your night conversing with Lord Montclair. The man was intelligent, charming, funny, and kind. He was the perfect man you see yourself marrying and yet...your eyes still wander towards Benedict. He spoke with some lords, danced with a few women. You knew you initiated the distance between you and Benedict, but that didn't mean it doesn't hurt you.

That man has held your heart for several years and it seems he will never reciprocate the feelings you have for him. So it's best to start the process of moving on, hopefully, with Lord Montclair.

And Lord Montclair did not disappoint when he called upon you the next morning.

He sat across from you in the sitting room, Aunt Eliza nearby going over some paperwork.

You look down at the bouquet of flowers, your favorite, the very ones you mentioned last night during your dance with Lord Montclair.

"Have you read any new poems today?" You shake your head and Montclair pulls out a book you are very familiar with, "Have you read Arthur Talbot's work? He's fairly new yet quite popular already."

You bite your lip to prevent you from bursting into a fit of giggles, "I adore his work. He has an impressive way of words."

He opens the book to a dog-eared page. He clears his throat and begins to recite,

To love you is to bathe in your light

To sway to your laughter,

With its melody and rhythm

To swell with pride when your eyes gaze on mine.

For that, I am whole

And you are forever my muse.

You felt a little...odd. Considering that not only is Lord Montclair reciting a poem that you wrote, but it's also about a man you are trying to get over. Not what you expected when you received your first caller.

"I believe that was one of Talbot's earlier works, yes?"

Montclair nods, "Yes, but I still believe the feeling of what he was trying to convey is very much still there, don't you agree?"

"Very much so, my Lord."

After some lengthy discussion about Talbot's work, you two move to the piano so you can teach him how to play.

"I never did have much of an ear for music. My mother was quite disappointed in me when I was unable to play any instrument she placed in my hands."

You chuckle, "We shall start with something easy." You show him how to place his fingers on the keys, giggling as you move each finger to the right location.

You continue to laugh with each other as you teach him the simplest of songs, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

As you laugh when he gets the wrong note, a footman enters the room, "Miss L/N, you have another caller."

Daphne enters the room and you immediately stand, "Your Grace!"

The duchess' smile grows at the sight of you and Lord Montclair, "I do hope I haven't upset you with my intrusion, but it is nearing lunch and Lord Montclair hadn't return. But I see why now." she gives you a teasing look.

"I apologize for keeping Lord Montclair for so long, your Grace."

"Nonsense, Y/N. I was just checking that our dear marquess is alright."

Lord Montclair chuckles as he, too, stands from the piano bench, "As you can see, I am quite alright, but I suppose I have overstayed my welcome."

You shake your head, "Of course not, my Lord. It was a pleasure seeing you. I hope to see you again soon."

He faces you, "I hope to see you as well," he gently grabs your gloved hand and places a kiss atop it.

He then bows to your aunt, "Miss Y/N, good day."

"You as well, my Lord," your aunt responds with a wave.

You curtsy to Daphne, and she and the marquess both leave your home.

[cryptidghostgirl]

CHUBBY! READER X ALASTOR

I'm soooo sorry that I'm requesting something else this just came to me and I needed your storytelling expertise to bring it to life 😢

ALSO ALSO ALSO this one has a trigger warning so please read with the thought that YOURE PERFECT!!!😤(if you write it)

OTAY OTAY soooooooooooo reader has been apart of the hotel for awhile and has developed a crush on Alastor from afar and the small instances they do cross paths but hesitates to approach him on her own because well we're shy and HES THE RADIO DEMON anyway reader doesn't have to worry about distance between them because Alastor is AVOIDING HER ALL ON HIS OWN 😯 AND somehow reader gathers the courage to approach Alastor but sees his relationship with Rosie (they're besties, platonic soulmates definitely) and thinks 'wow, she's so beautiful and...thin' and proceeds to lock herself away from everyone (SOLITUDE) and skips meals (starving herself), Alastor is the first to notice shes missin and pulling away but doesn't know how to approach her without stumbling over his words (i like to think that hes a heartbreaker to other women like his fans but with someone that he likes with real feelings hes fumbling in the dark because he could get rejected instead, i will die on the hill) so so so he hesitates to ask reader whats wrong till he hears her throwing up or she says something awful about herself and Alastor gets angry on her behalf and reader goes silent, only for Alastor to take a breath and tell her that 'shes hurting herself, for a shallow reason such as looks', and reader goes 'i thought you liked to watch others downfalls' and then hes like 'not your downfall, never you' 😔 reader starts to cry and shouts "im not Rosie', confused Alastor finally starts putting the pieces together and grabs reader hands and sincerely says "good, i wouldn't rosie anyhow, or anyone else for that matter', reader continuing to cry tells him to stop lying that this joke isn't funny and Alastor kissies her hand as says "whos joking? I only want you, your perfect" then then then slowly Alastor starts to help reader look at themselves in a more positive light [[fit this in somewhere???????Alastor tells reader why hes so close to rosie (he's clueless about reciprocated love so he goes to Rosie because canon that she knows matters of the heart...right?)]]

A/N as always i am obsessed with your request. Also I 100% agree with the assessment of Alastor's ability to talk to people he actually likes. I am literally so obsessed with this request. Also I am assuming from your previous comments you wanted the same bunny demon character?? Please forgive me if I am wrong but I did it for her (because I love her dearly and she is based of meeeee and I'm egotisticalllllll). Kisses bestie <3 <3

Downfall (Alastor x Chubby!Bunny Demon!Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Word Count: 4,076 (I got a little carried away)

Warnings: BODY IMAGE ISSUES!!! EDS!!!! I think that's it but they're in all caps for a reason so if you have ED issues maybe don't read this one??? It is hurt//comfort tho so maybe do???? Idk. If you get triggered by ed descriptions, don't. If having a fictional character tell you you're perfect the way you are and beg you to stop destroying yourself because they can't bear to watch would help you, do.

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

It had taken months. Months of wondering what he was like, of stolen glances, of furtive daydreams. Months of building up courage, of backing down, months of hoping and dreaming. It had taken endless encouragement from Angel, countless pages in her diary. It had taken a million deep breaths, ten thousand trembles of her hands. Months, it had taken months.

It wasn't like Y/n had never spoken to the man before. That wasn't really the issue. She wasn't scared of him, just scared. The simple idea of being alone with him was an intoxicating mixture of terror and utter bliss. Y/n didn't know how to handle it, she didn't know how to handle him.

Alastor was untouchable, nearly semi-divine in her eyes. Sure, he was fucked up, but they all were. At the end of the day, his facade was as easy to see through as a cheap paper crown from a Christmas cracker. Beneath the wide smile, the sharp teeth, the stories, Alastor was just a man. He cared deeply for the world around him, for the people around him and those in his life. No matter how hard he tried to disguise it, it always shone through to Y/n.

It wasn't like she had never spoken to Alastor before, she had just never spoken to him alone before. Every interaction they had ever had was as a part of the larger group of Hotel residents and staff. On the rare occasion they ran into one another in the hallway or happened to each be in the kitchen at the same time, Y/n froze up. Words turned to stones in her stomach and all she could ever seem to manage was a gentle nod, a shaky smile. It frustrated her to no end.

Finally, she had worked up the courage to talk to him. It was all Angel's idea really, she would never have had the thought to do such a thing on her own but his pushing had been relentless and at last, Y/n had agreed.

And it had taken months, months! This was her third attempt to go up to him. They had even lowered the stakes, Angel saying all she had to do was have a single normal conversation with the man and he would let her off the hook, stop his pestering and teasing. It was just her luck, really just her god damn luck.

Sir Pentious had informed Y/n that Alastor had left the hotel to see a friend, Charlie had given her the address of the cafe he had said he would be at should they need him. Everyone was all smiles, all encouragement. Y/n reminded herself to yell at Angel later for spilling her secret although, she guessed she shouldn't have expected anything else from the hotel's biggest gossip.

Putting on her favorite outfit, her hair all done up and makeup perfect, Y/n had slicked her ears flat against her head in determination and stepped out onto the streets of Pentagram City. It didn't take long for her to find the place, a sweet little cafe on the outskirts of Cannibal Town with white wrought iron chairs and a cheerful pink and purple sign. It hadn't taken her long to spot the bright red of Alastor's suit through the window either, standing out against all the muted purples and dark blacks of the other cannibals enjoying their meals within.

"It's fine. It's totally not weird that you're going up to him in a cafe he's having lunch in with a friend, that you.... oh my god Y/n!! He's gonna think you were stalking him! You should just go back and- no! You promised. Y/n, you can do this."

She took a deep breath, centering herself in that little core, that rod of who she was, that shot down the center of her being. Raising a closed fist to her chest, she shut her eyes.

"You can do this, Bunny." she reaffirmed, "You can do this."

Opening her eyes, she crossed the street. Her hand was inches away from the door's handle, her heart racing but set on what she was about to do, when Y/n noticed exactly who Alastor's 'friend' was.

Across the table from him, sipping delicately on a cup of tea, was the most beautiful demon Y/n thought she had ever laid eyes on. She had long, dainty fingers, thin and spidery, and the most perfectly proportioned body. She was tall, long legs sheltered by her skirt and a tiny waist that threw her hips and chest into contrast. The woman's hair was neat, tucked up beneath a wide brimmed hat. Her clothes were classy, her smile was bright and charming, the black holes of her eyes were... were... were everything. She was everything, everything Y/n wasn't.

Suddenly, the weight of her own body against her bones became all too real. She felt the urge to never be touched again, the same strange sickness of her youth sinking its teeth into the softness of her stomach, her thighs, her arms, all of her. Her hand lowered from the handle, Alastor laughing at something the woman had said to him. He seemed relaxed, more at peace than Y/n had ever seen the man before. If that wasn't love, she didn't know what was.

It took a second for the other residents of the Hazbin Hotel to realize the change. Y/n was good at this, she'd had practice. For years, she had worked to move past it all but the threat of a relapse had always hung over her head. It was her sword of Damocles, her fated demise.

Y/n retreated in to herself, she couldn't get the image of that woman out of her head. Poised, statuesque, thin. God, Y/n had never wanted anything more than she wanted to be thin. She wanted to rip fistfuls of flesh from her body, she wanted to wither away so only something beautiful remained.

Alastor was the first to notice. He had a soft spot for the rabbit demon who always seemed to be full of that soft, discrete joy and unending kindness. She was a more toned down version of Charlie. She was genuine and completely herself, no holds bared. She had such a hope, she had such a goodness, it made him wonder why she hadn't ended up in Heaven instead.

The truth was, behind the bravado and the grin, Alastor was scared of Y/n. He was scared he would touch her and she would rot away or worse, that she would run. She was just so good, so intrinsically wondrous, and he was the opposite. She was a fresh rose and he was the person coming haplessly along with a pair of gardening shears. She was radiant, she was carved fresh from marble, he was down bad.

Women had never been a priority or a problem for Alastor. Living and dead, they flocked to him. He knew his reputation was to blame, not to mention his looks. They could be fun for a while. Alastor saw charming them as a game, a good way to pass the time. This was different, Y/n was different. Alastor didn't know what to do so, he did nothing. He avoided her like the plague and when he couldn't, he practically ignored her, barley spared her a word.

Alastor was untethered, completely in the dark and so, he did what everyone does when they feel like that: he went to talk to his best friend. When he had gotten back to the hotel after his rather illuminating little chat with Rosie, Charlie had asked him if he had seen Y/n. It felt like divine chance, a cruel joke of fate, that the demon Princess would bring up the very source of his problems so soon after having at last pushed past his pride to ask for help.

When he had revealed the truth to the gang, that no, he had not in fact seen Y/n, they seemed deflated. There had been some sighs, some shrugs, shared glances he didn't understand and then everything had gone back to normal except, it wasn't quite normal.

Where Y/n could normally be found causing trouble, making mischief with the people who had so quickly become her friends since she had started her stay at the hotel out in the open, there was now a distinct lack of her jovial presence. She began taking her plates to her room at meals, showing up to group activities less and less, claiming she was tired or had a stomach ache. Alastor noticed every time he did manage to catch a glimpse of the marvelous and strange creature who had captured his affections so, she seemed utterly exhausted. Y/n was always bundled up, even on the warmest of days.

He wanted to go talk to her, wanted to ask her if she was okay. Alastor was worried -- genuinely worried -- about her. The only thing that stopped him from knocking every time he passed her perpetually closed door, was that he knew himself too well. He knew that the minute he entered, he'd lose his courage, that the words would become mush in his mouth.

It was pure chance, right place wrong time, that he heard it. Alastor had been following his normal routine, heading up to his radio tower for a broadcast after a group activity. Today had been Operation Navigation! As Charlie had dubbed it. She and Vaggie had built an obstacle course and everyone had a partner who was blindfolded and had to be guided through. When they got to the other end, the pairs had switched. Miraculously, Y/n had shown up to this event.

Alastor had watched her carefully, noting her sluggish movements and the way it took her a second to fully register what anyone was saying in a given moment. It was out of the ordinary and his worry only grew. He knew he was going to have to do something about it eventually but just didn't know how. Maybe it would require another visit to Rosie.

As he walked past the lobby bathroom, Alastor was pulled from his thoughts. The door was slightly ajar, sending shards of light out into the darkened hallway.

"Why isn't it working!"

Came the hushed yell of defeat. It was Y/n's voice, he'd know it anywhere. Alastor stopped walking.

"Why do I have to be..."

There was a sniff, the sound of something hitting the wall. Alastor realized it had been Y/n at the sound of fabric against the wallpaper. He could see her in his minds eye as she slid down the wall, pulling her knees into her chest.

"Why can't I just be skinny."

Y/n's words were muffled, soft and shaky.

"Why can't I just be pretty. Why do I have to be... to be..." her words were briefly broken by a sob, "why can't I just be good. I can't even fucking starve myself right. I wish..."

Alastor's body reacted before his mind could catch up, he knocked gently on the door. There was a little yelp of surprise from within, a few sniffs and some rustling fabric.

"Yeah?"

Y/n's voice trembled as she tried to keep the tears at bay.

"May I come in?"

Alastor heard the sharp intake of breath. It was too late to back down now. The silence was thick between them, it felt eternal.

"Okay." Y/n agreed at last, her voice small, and Alastor stepped into the room.

It was exactly how he had imagined it. Y/n was huddled on the floor next to the door, her knees tucked up under her chin and her arms holding her shins tightly. Alastor noticed that the thick, woolen sweater she had been wearing earlier had been tossed to the side, laying haphazardly beside the sink. Y/n sniffed again, trying to smile.

"Everything okay?" she asked and Alastor fixed his eyes back on her.

Y/n's eyes were rimmed with red. Her ears lay limply around her face which was stained with tears. Her skin was covered in goosebumps, she shivered.

"No. It's not."

She seemed a bit taken aback by his answer, not having grasped the reality of the cracked door earlier.

"I don't... what's wrong?"

"You are starving yourself." Alastor replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

Y/n's eyes went wide.

"Fuck... I... fuck!" she buried her face in her knees, "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Are you trying to die!?" Alastor asked,

He didn't mean to yell, he didn't mean to be this angry. Everything he said seemed to send shockwaves of regret through his body. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Are you... I just... are you stupid?!"

Y/n looked up at him again, her eyes wet with fresh tears.

"I-"

"You what." Alastor scoffed, "You want to be pretty?"

"I..."

"You want to be pretty so you lock yourself away? You make your friends watch as you... as you what, as you get thin? As you destroy yourself?"

She was crying now, truly crying. Alastor looked away, a hand to his head. He took a deep breath, everything was going wrong. When he looked at her again, her cheeks were flushed from a mixture of shame and hurt.

"I just..." he took another deep breath, sinking to his knees before her, "Why would you hurt yourself so badly for something as.. as shallow as your looks?"

Y/n sniffled, frantically trying to wipe away her tears.

"What, I thought you liked to watch other people's downfalls." she tried to shoot back at him but her words came out stuttering and broken through the thickly falling tears.

Y/n refused to meet Alastor's gaze. Everything was going wrong. She was horribly embarrassed, she felt like a butterfly and Alastor was the terror who had opened her chrysalis too soon. He wasn't supposed to see her like this, he wasn't supposed to see her now. He was only supposed to get the after. It was all for him, after all, wasn't it?

Except, Y/n knew the truth of the matter. Alastor had been the trigger but, these behaviors were too well engrained. She might not have known it then, but she'd been looking for an excuse all along. It was all for her, every inch of agony.

His heart dropped at her words. Was that what Y/n truly thought of him? It would make sense, it was the face he presented to the world after all. He had just thought... he had hoped... Rosie had said....

Rosie. That was the answer. She had told him to be honest, to be vulnerable no matter how terrifying such a prospect could be. She had said it was the only way they ever had the slightest chance.

Alastor reached a hand out gently, turning Y/n to look at him. Her skin was soft to the touch, the beating of her blood thrumming against his fingertips. With the utmost care he could muster in his clawed and rotten hands, Alastor wiped her tears away. He couldn't meet Y/n's eyes but heard her sniffle, watched as the flow of sorrow slowed.

"Not your downfall." he said, his words like quiet feathers falling through the air, "Never your downfall."

At last he met her trembling gaze, fear coursing hotly through him, mingling with his blood. She took a few short, stuttering breaths before bursting into tears once again. Alastor flinched slightly as her head fell forward onto his shoulder.

"But I'm not that woman!"

"Woman... what woman?"

"The one you were with at the cafe!"

"The one... Rosie?"

Y/n nodded, sniffiling slightly as she tried to calm herself down.

"You saw me with Rosie? How?"

"I went... I'd been working up all this courage and... I just wanted to talk to you and Charlie and Pen said you'd be there and... and... and I'm not Rosie!"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had been right all along, Rosie was the answer. With the air of someone who hadn't had much physical affection given to them in their life, or received any for that matter, Alastor slowly wrapped his hands around Y/n's shaking back.

"Good."

"What do you mean 'good'? She's so beautiful and she made you laugh and she's just... she's so beautiful and thin!"

"She is beautiful, and a lovely woman but, I don't want Rosie. Or anyone else for that matter."

Y/n's sobs redoubled, she began to struggle against his grip.

"Let me go! Stop lying, Alastor."

Alastor released Y/n from his grasp and she pushed herself back against the wall, utterly mortified and unable to stop. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking away.

"Stop joking, it's... it's not funny."

"Who is joking? I..." Alastor took a deep breath.

Rosie had been right, it was terrifying. He hope she was right on the second part too, that it would be worth it.

"Y/n, have you seen yourself?"

"Yes! Why the fuck do you think I want to be anything else?!"

Alastor got to his feet, holding a hand out to Y/n.

"Come with me."

"No." she mumbled, scooting further away from him if it was possible.

Under another circumstance, he would have chuckled lightly, he would have found her reaction adorable. This was neither the time nor the place and so, summoning his shadows, he transported them both into the darkness of his room.

Y/n looked around, pulling herself to her feet.

"Where... where are we?"

"My room." Alastor sat down on the edge of his bed, "Come here."

Hesitantly, Y/n took a few steps forwards. Once she was in reach, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap. The feeling sent sparks through his body, Alastor tried his best to ignore it. There were more important things than the pleasure of the moment. Y/n struggled against his grasp, the tips of her ears dragging slightly across his arms.

"Alastor! Let me go! I'm too heavy!"

"No, you're quite perfect actually."

"I don't want to be touched! I don't want you to... you're making me want to tear my skin off, please."

"No." his voice was firm.

"Please, just please let go of my waist at least."

To this, he relented, one of his arms falling loosely onto her lap as he held the other up, snapping his fingers. Shadow's flooded into the room, bringing with them a full length mirror. He felt Y/n tense in his grasp.

They came to a stop, setting the mirror on the ground before them. Y/n turned her head away, her eyes shut tight.

"Please stop, Alastor. This really isn't funny."

"Y/n."

"No."

"Y/n."

"No!"

Y/n, please."

She had never heard him say the word before. Slowly, she opened her eyes, craning her neck to look up at Alastor.

"I want you to see what I see when I look at you."

"You promise you wont be mean?" Y/n asked suspiciously after a moment.

"I pinky promise."

He had seen her do this before, with other residents of the hotel. A simple locking of pinky's was all it ever took to make a promise, to assuage her doubts, to show she cared. Y/n's eyes widened slightly. Slowly, she reached her hand out, locking her pinky with his. They shook their hands once, the way Alastor had seen her do it a thousand times before.

"Wait." Y/n said as he made to move his hand away, looking away bashfully, her cheeks a bright pink and her voice quiet, "Don't let go."

"Okay."

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the mirror. It was terrible, she felt bile rise in her throat.

"Y/n, you are so... every inch of you is perfect." Alastor took a deep breath, the way his voice trembled not escaping Y/n's notice, "You have... amazing legs. I know everyone's all obsessed with Angel's but, he has nothing on you walking around on those sticks. You're... you're all soft curves and lace. If you were made of anything, you would be satin. You are a nymph rising from the lakes, a wild maenad in the woods. Your eyes shine like true stars, not what we have here. Did you know rabbits were always my favorite animal?"

Y/n giggled slightly, her tearstained cheeks flushed pink.

"Well they were. They still are. Your ears are just to die for, dearest."

He felt her ears twitch slightly against his back at the comment and Y/n watched through the mirror as his smile softened at it's harsh edges.

"Your grace is what the Greeks wrote about. You... Y/n, the first time I set eyes on you, I felt like I was drowning." Alastor looked away, unable to meet her eyes even through the glass, "Like you were a siren and I was nothing more than a hapless sailor at your mercy."

"But you never talk to me."

"You never talk to me!"

Y/n laughed again, smiling a gummy smile.

"I don't have to talk to you to see who you are, Y/n." Alastor continued, his hand that was in her lap turning so his palm rested gently on her thigh, "You light up any room you're in. You are charming and clever and constantly on the look out for places you can instill your special breed of controlled chaos."

Trembling, he shifted his hand in Y/n's so he held hers, raising it to his mouth. The heat of his breath on her skin drove Y/n wild, her breath hitched.

"I am glad you're not Rosie, I don't want Rosie. I don't want anyone else except for you."

Alastor planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand and Y/n's smile only grew, her tears long forgotten now as she watched Alastor's reflection.

"You are perfect. Please, don't change yourself, don't hurt yourself, trying to be something else. I'd miss you."

Slowly, he let their still clasped hands fall into Y/n's lap.

"Do you see now?"

Y/n turned back to the mirror, her head tilted slightly to one side as she hummed in consideration.

"No." she admitted, "But I think I might be able to start."

"One step at a time." Alastor rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in comforting circles, "I'll be with you the whole way, if you'll have me."

He held his breath, waiting for her reply. Y/n met his eyes through the mirror, her brow furrowed.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Who is Rosie?"

Alastor could have laughed, he nearly did.

"She is a very old and dear friend. I was going to her for advice, that day."

"You? Needing advice?" Y/n paused before shaking her head, "Nah, I don't see it."

She laughed lightly at her own joke and Alastor smiled softly back at her.

"It was advice about you, actually."

Y/n turned herself in his lap, looking up at him with her legs on either side of his own.

"About me?"

"Y-yes."

He cursed himself internally. Alastor hadn't meant to stutter, she just looked too lovely sitting there and looking up at him with her pretty pink lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"I..." Alastor felt the heat rising in his own cheeks and looked away, "well, I didn't know how to approach you."

"Wait, you were avoiding me this whole time?" Y/n laughed and Alastor nodded, "I thought I was avoiding you!"

"Wait, you were avoiding me?"

His gaze snapped back to hers and she laughed again.

"Yes! I was terrified to speak to you! You're so cool and hot and just... I'm not good at things like this!"

"You think I'm hot?"

"Is that all you got out of what I said?"

"Maybe."

They both laughed this time. Alastor's chest felt lighter than it hand in years.

"So," he began once they had both calmed down, "is that a yes?"

"To what?"

"To letting me... be... with you."

Y/n smiled, reaching a hand up to his cheek.

"That's a 'will you be with me?' I think actually."

----

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170

A/N Y'all, there were one or two times I almost wrote my name while doing this one. I've been writing x reader fics for eight years, this never happens to me anymore. I think I related a little too hard. I am x reader fic writing too close to the sun.

[jasontoddsdarling]

18+ | jason and you as (horny) newlyweds in your new house.

(p.s. mostly just an excuse to write about breeding or pregnancy kink—or not really kink, since they're serious. so yeah these two are the content warnings, proceed with caution. 1,2k words.)

jason and you as newlyweds in your new house.

the house is, albeit small, yours. it's pretty with kind of rustic vibes into it.

the most important thing though, is that it has a cute garden in the front. and also a wide enough backyard to hold some very close friends and family dinners.

and, wide enough garden for a toddler to play and run around, too.

see, you are newlyweds. only been married for four months. you two haven't exactly been trying to get pregnant, but you haven't exactly been trying to not to get pregnant—by the lack of birth controls, or even condoms.

you're not in any birth control and neither does he, but when having sex you two always careful on choosing days for him to come inside based on your tracking calendar on days you're not on your fertile window. mostly he doesn't even come inside.

and it's working, as in you haven't get pregnant and everything.

again, both of you are ever so careful despite without contraceptives.

but now, as jason has you bending on the surface of marble kitchen counter—he had said you two need to christen every surface of your new place, your cute ass up and your toes almost leaving the flooring; while he is behind you, his thick cock pounding into the heat of your cunt, his tight balls slapping on your swollen clit, you wish that he doesn't finish on your back or stomach or your mouth wherever you decide you want him to, this time.

you want him to finish inside of you, filling you up. spilling all his warm, thick seeds deep inside of you.

you want it so bad it hurts, you can almost taste it in your mouth.

you know you're currently at the beginning of your fertile window. and you think he knows too, he's keeping track after all.

but you want it, even though you're currently being fucked thoroughly by your husband, you're still aware that you make this possibly life changing decision. and you are ready. you two are. if this making love session, hot and wild in the kitchen is how you (possibly) get pregnant, then so be it.

jason is giving you hard and deep strokes when you suddenly open your mouth.

“honey.”

“yes, love?”

his deep with arousal voice, a tinge of dark rumble, answers you. it makes you tingle all over. he keeps plowing inside.

“i want you to come inside me, this time.”

he slows his fucking, very shallow trust, keeping his cock inside of your warmth.

“are you sure? you're on your fertile window.”

see, your husband knows.

“i know. but i want you to.”

you say, as you gasp when his cock hit the sensitive part inside of you.

“yeah?”

“yeah. i want you to get me pregnant.”

“fuck.”

jason resumes his pacing back to his deep, hard strokes like before.

not like before, actually. it's more intense and purposeful. it's like your request has ignites an unquenchable flame of lust and want in him.

“that's what you want, hm? you want me to give you a baby hm? fuck, that's what i want too, princess.”

“yeah? you want to make me pregnant, jay?”

jason grips your hip are bruising. he sends your upper body back and forth on the cool marble, your soft tits and peaked nipples are getting very sensitive.

you two have never engaged in this kind of dirty talk, but fuck if all of this isn't the hottest thing ever. moreover because both of you know this isn't just some mere dirty talk or for the whole thing to be strictly kink during sex thing. both of you are serious.

“fuck, yeah. been wanting it since the first time you told me i should ditched my condoms.

“i have been waiting for which one of us will break first, princess.”

you give a barely there laugh because he hit your g-spot just now, your toes are curling, making you whine instead.

“i just didn't expect you to be the one to say it first.”

“how did you know it'll go like this?”

“oh, i didn't. not exactly anyway. but if anything, princess, we're alike in this.”

he sends a particularly hard thrust as if to prove his point, and your cunt tightened around his cock.

“fuck. see?”

you nod, have nothing else to say. you can only moan desperately, you're so close now.

“i will come inside of you, love. i will make sure none of my cum leaks out of your cunt. i will give you my baby.”

he says each of the word after a vigorous stroke, clouding your mind and bumping deep inside your walls.

you moan, your eyes teary, your hands barely holding on the surface of the kitchen counter because its so slippery of your sweat and tears.

“can't wait too see you pregnant, your stomach swell. fuck, i know you will look so hot carrying our baby.”

our baby. that has your closed eyes and you seen stars. yes, our baby, you think. you envision a baby daughter—even though you don't mind if the baby's a son obviously—but you really want a little mini-me. jason too, you think, as you remember your old talk when you're dating about him thinking how baby daughter and dad's interactions he's been seeing in real life and in social media platforms are very precious.

you don't realize you're so stimulated that you're sobbing until jason points it out to you. he offers you to come together with him. no, he needs to come together with you.

“you're very close, sweetheart? be patient for me, alright? i'm so close too.”

his strokes are getting desperate, hard and unforgiving.

you look sideway so your cheek is on the cold counter now, not your whole face, and you can only take it and patiently waiting for him to reach his peak while holding yours back—it is not easy at all.

turns out it's not long at all though, because on your thirty seconds count you cry so hard, your vision blurry with tears.your orgasm being stolen from you as the tightening of your walls send jason to his own with his one last violent thrust.

you can feel his warm thick cum shoots inside of your vaginal walls. coating them thoroughly, not one surface is spared by his seeds. jason draps his massive body on your back, your sweat mingling. he waits until his cock stops spurting his cum.

“that's probably the hottest making love session we've in this house.”

he rasps, kissing the side of your sweaty neck.you can only give him a weak laugh. you feel satiated and boneless and you just want him to carry you after this.

“right. who knows the thought of making me pregnant really gets you going like you never were?”

“oh, love, you're about to see more of this.”

“mhmm?” you hum with seductive tone.

“yeah. we're not done yet even for today. we better ordering some foods after this because i know we'll need it. i'm not stopping, love, until i am sure it takes. even after that.”

jason pulls out of you slowly. he gestures you to tighten your thighs so his cum doesn't spill, and then carrying you to you the bedroom. that's where your phones are.

when he drops you on the soft mattress of your king-size bed, he goes to the nightstand on its side, ordering you both some heavy meals—and desserts—take out for you two's dinner.

then he closes his phone, he’s spooning you.

at that point, you already are being lulled by soft and cool bedding.

he kisses your nape and brushing strands of your hair softly.

“get your little nap, you'll need to gain energy, love, if we want to go all night. don't worry, i will wake you up when the foods have arrived.”

mariea's notea: i can't get this prompt out of my head it's been haunting me for days. glad i wrote it down <3

serious not though, BE SAFE if you're actively having sex. don't try anything above at home.

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 10) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): sickening amount of fluff, language, angst, *SMUT*: oral (m + f receiving), fingering, hand job, p in v, overstimulation if you blink

Word Count: 6,892

A/N: If you’re here, congratulations! You made it to the end. A big thank you to everyone that has commented, shared, liked, etc. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since my first post. I had a vision when I started writing this in the middle of the 2022 season, not quite sure where it would lead, but I’m happy with where it landed and I hope you are too. I hope you like wine with your cheese, because this is ~cheesy~. Also, this is my first time writing smut so (1) if you are a minor please do not proceed; (2) if you do like/read smut, I would appreciate any kind of feedback. A big thank you to @cutelittlefakejourneys and @burningcupcakefire for beta-ing. Thank you @paddockbunny, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz for the insights and words of encouragement. As always, thank you for reading.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel paced the hallway. He wasn’t accustomed to not getting what he wanted. Sure, in the last few months he had had his fair share of disappointments, but this was different. He was tempted to knock on your door until you answered, but thought the better of it.

He played through the moment in his head again, no different than analyzing a post-race debrief. What went wrong and how could he improve? He was professional during the signing. He knew you loved Geri, you only casually brought up Ginger Spice in conversation no less than a dozen times over the last few months. He knew you’d love to actually meet her – who knows, if everything went well it certainly wouldn’t be the last time for you. He didn’t force himself on you – at this point he knew you were like a cat and he needed to wait for you to come to him or else he’d scare you off. It seemed like the only thing keeping you from ripping each other’s clothes off was your job. Or so he thought.

Now he was confused. It was clear you hadn’t meant to say what you said – but you said it. I could kiss you. Can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Four words that looped in his brain. He had spent so much time dissecting the meaning of the word “could,” he felt like he could be a lawyer too. But he had taken his time closing the space between you in the hallway. When he leaned in, you leaned in too. You had ample time to tell him off if he had misconstrued the whole thing, and he would never think less of you if you did, but you didn’t.

No, what just happened was not a rejection. You were just skittish. Like a cat hiding under a bed, you just needed to be coaxed out – slowly. You were food motivated, he’d learned that about you during your first outing in Belgium when you put down more bon bons than he thought was humanly possible. Yes, all you needed was to be approached with patience and understanding - and maybe the promise of a full belly.

-

You leaned against the door and squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment already crashing over you like a tidal wave. You knew you were being ridiculous and immature. What was it that you were still afraid of?

You stripped off your suit immediately, it felt stuffy and heavy as you overheated, the reminder of your attorney-client relationship falling to the floor. You threw on the first thing you grabbed out of your bag - why did it have to be that pesky yellow dress again?

You paced your room for what felt like hours. Your professional activities with Daniel had officially come to its natural conclusion and yet you were still hesitant to move forward. It didn’t help that you were in a country that banned the cohabitation of unmarried couples, so really, what were you even going to do?

Despite the confessions exchanged back in Mexico and the kiss in Brazil, it was never guaranteed that anything would actually happen once Daniel’s legal affairs were settled. Frankly, you still weren’t fully convinced the conversations ever actually happened. You refused to believe the lingering stares and little touches that lasted a little too long were anything more than pure coincidence.

In spite of all of it, you remained unconvinced about how Daniel actually felt about you. Over the years of failed relationships and first dates that ranged from awkward to bad, you had grown wary and skeptical of romantic pursuits. For all you knew, all his lip-service was simply an elaborate ruse to get in your pants. You thought on this worst case scenario, which really wasn’t so bad. God forbid you have one night stand with a Formula 1 driver and live to tell the tale. It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t be hurt at first if you were correct, but you would eventually be fine. You had been happily single and independent for years, it would simply be a return to your de facto state.

And even if you could take him at his word, you couldn’t help but wonder what that relationship would look like when you had to resume work for other clients and the luxury of constant travel and proximity ceased. How would you continue to keep in touch? How often would you actually be able to see each other in person? Your first relationship was with The Firm, and you knew you weren’t ready to give up your livelihood for him. Then there was the other issue of paparazzi and tabloids - the forced spotlight that would fall on you, resulting in the lack of privacy and anonymity. You had no desire for fame, yet he seemed to be designed for it. You could go toe-to-toe with opposing counsel any day, but you weren’t sure you had his mental fortitude to withstand the cruel and unsolicited opinions of strangers on the internet.

You weighed the pros and cons over and over again in your head. For someone with such a demanding job, it made no sense that it all felt so overwhelming and complicated. But it was telling that the Australian was the first person you wanted to confide in. He was the only one who could ever quiet the constant hurricane in your mind that caused you to spiral if left unchecked. In this moment, you needed him to ground you.

You had been raised to leave hotel room minibars alone unless you wanted to bankrupt you and your entire family for two generations. Going against everything you believed, you took a nip from the stock. Hoping the small amount of liquid courage would do the trick, you checked your reflection in the mirror one last time before venturing to the room next door. You would simply have to assume the risk of the unknown aftermath.

With shaking hands, you opened the door only to be met with Daniel’s presence before you. He jumped slightly at the sudden movement. You did a poor job hiding your astonishment that left you frozen in place.

“Oh… hi?” Your eyes remained wide. He looked around and scratched the back of his head, appearing to be as surprised and confused as you were.

“Hi – I uh,” he took a moment to give you a once over. “I’m sorry are you about to go somewhere? You look nice.” You felt your face turn red immediately, the bravery you built up moments ago dissipating in an instance. He shifted his weight, quickly correcting himself. “Not that you don’t always look nice! I just – you look nicer than usual. I mean-” He seemed uncharacteristically nervous and was digging himself a hole. You looked around the hall to ensure it was empty and took a deep breath to save him from digging any deeper.

“Yes actually. I was going to see you.” He seemed surprised and relieved at the answer.

“No way, I was about to see you!” He shook his head when he saw you bite back a smile. “Obviously, I’ve been standing outside your door,” he laughed nervously, his confidence shrinking by the second. “Not for very long though! You didn’t need to know that. But I wanted to come to say I’m sorry about before, I was too forward back there. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just figured, you know, since we went pencils down and everything, maybe we could-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” You walked backwards as you took his hand, leading him through the doorway. He didn’t fight your lead.

“-you don’t know what I was going to ask.” You leaned back, allowing the door to click behind you under your weight.

“It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes.” You gave him a reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand bringing him closer. “With you it will always be yes.” It seemed both of you were at a loss for words, but they were unnecessary as he took a step towards you closing the small gap that remained. His eyes were enchantingly curious as they gazed into yours. You only looked away for a millisecond, distracted by the tongue that broke free from his mouth to moisten his plump lips. You took a deep inhale in anticipation, your heartbeat bordering on palpitations as his lips closed in.

The moment they met yours, immediately you knew you never wanted boundaries with this man ever again. One hand cupped the side of your face while the other grabbed your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an effort to eliminate any remaining iota of space between the two of you. Your lips danced and moved together in unison, neither of you wanting to come up for air. His firm calloused hands roamed your body, unsure of where to rest. There were so many parts of you he had never touched before and he wanted desperately to become acquainted with them as quickly as possible. He squeezed your shoulders, ran them down the lengths of your arms, moved to the small of your back up towards your neck, in your hair.

The feverishness of it all began to slow, as he tried to memorize every peak and valley. He reverently moved his hands from your waist, dragging them up the length of your spine, one hand finding its way to your hair as though he wanted to remember every hair follicle, the other keeping your body firmly pressed against his. The leisurely pace only teased you, and each spot he touched left your body buzzing. He slowly brought his other hand to find yours again, repositioning so your fingers interlocked. The sweet gesture felt suddenly sinful when he pinned them to the wall, dragging them up the door until they were next to your head. The motion made your head spin, warmth spreading between your thighs, and you inadvertently let out a soft moan.

Ravenous for more, he firmly pressed your bodies together against the door, almost knocking the wind out of you. He pulled away only for a moment, his eyes pleading.

Can I?

You nodded your head frantically, capturing his mouth once more while guiding his hands to the parts you desperately needed touched. One gently cupped your breast while the other roughly grabbed your ass, kneading the muscles underneath. You both groaned in unison at the new sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” he mouthed breathlessly before finding your neck, hoping the feeling was mutual. You didn’t say anything back, but he could tell from the pant of your breath and the pulse under his lips that it was. You threw your head back as he sucked, licked, and nipped at the sweet spot as he gently grazed his thumb over your bra, immediately feeling your nipple form into a stiff peak underneath. Being mindful of your noise level, you bit back a moan that ended up coming out as a pathetic whimper. You shamelessly pushed your hips against his and squeezed his hand on your breast, encouraging him to explore and desperate for more contact.

You instinctively widened your stance for him to perch himself between your legs. His hand played with the waistband of your underwear through your dress, trailing down to your inner upper thigh.

“Stop teasing,” you hissed. He only smiled into the kiss in response, his tongue pushing into your mouth to shut you up.

Your hands followed their own curious whims. Those pecs that you had gotten an eyeful of several times felt warm and firm under your touch. Your palm dragged down the ripples of his abs, gently landing over the front of his pants. You gasped feeling him harden under your touch for the first time, eliciting a low growl from him in return. His hips pushed forward in frustration, eager for more. You allowed him some relief, undoing his belt and pants, cautiously reaching inside. Your eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as you grabbed around his length, your hand suddenly feeling quite small. He looked you dead in the eye, that familiar cocky smirk and twinkle returning to his face.

“Come on,” he flashed you a wicked grin. “You knew it had to be big.” You laughed at his boldness, which only inspired him to double down. “I know how to use it too.”

“That’s some awfully big talk.” You already had goosebumps from your head to your toes, but you weren’t going to let him know that just yet. You would make sure he worked for it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s not the only thing I know how to use.”

He captured your mouth in a gentle, chaste kiss as he used one hand to pull up the hem of your dress. His other hand snuck under the skirt, slowly dragging it across your skin. Rough and calloused from racing, they felt tantalizingly delicate.

“I was going to prove it, but it looks like I already convinced you.” He drew little spirals around your clit over your panties, barely applying any pressure. You bit your lip and looked up to the ceiling, praying for relief from the building tension. To your chagrin, his hand began to pull away.

“No. Please,” was all you could muster, your brain searching for more eloquent words that escaped you.

“Please what?” You reached for his crotch, hoping the action would suffice as an answer, but he grabbed your wrist to pin it to the door. “You have to use your words.” You felt the words on his breath that seeped through your skin.

“Please touch me.” Frustrated, you used your free hand to try to get him to fully take your dress off which was only getting in the way. He obliged, releasing your other hand to get a hold of the fabric. You put your arms up as he gathered the material over your head. Throwing the garment aside, he pulled away slightly to observe you for a moment. His eyes widening as they moved down your frame, trying and failing to hide his growing smirk.

“Do you always wear pretty underwear when you close a deal? Or are these for me?” He played with the pink lacy textile between his fingers, admiring how they accentuated the contour of your waist and hips.

“Both,” you gasped as he dragged a finger down your front. It passed over your clit, down to the fabric covering your entrance, smiling feeling how embarrassingly soaked you already were through the thin material.

With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, chest, stomach, until he reached the hem of fabric. He continued over the garment, bypassing the spot he knew you needed him to your inner thigh. The gentle touches and the scruff of his beard almost tickled, panting as he moved down your body.

He looped his thumbs around the sides of your thong, pausing to look up hopefully for permission. You nodded with lidded, lustful eyes. He couldn’t hide his dimples and he continued to tease, dragging your panties slowly down your legs, taking care to pick up each foot to get you out of them. Your heart swelled as you observed him treating you so delicately, like a fragile porcelain doll. His trail of kisses started again from the bottom, beginning at your ankle, to the inside of your knee and again to your upper thigh until he reached an apex.

“Hold on.” You weren’t sure what he meant at first. Then without warning, he grabbed your hip and threw your opposite leg over his shoulder, finally diving into your center. Your hands instinctively found their way to his head to stabilize yourself, accidentally letting out a yelp in the process which soon after turned into a low moan as his tongue swirled slow circles around your clit. “You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled into your skin.

The vision of him on his knees fully clothed, contrasted with your nakedness enhanced his touch and sent you spiraling. Your hands raked through his gorgeous curls as he lapped you up. The pressure he applied gradually increased, culminating to him inserting a finger in you, then two. You slapped a hand over your mouth as the pressure pooled and he found his rhythm with his tongue and fingers. He knew you were close when your legs started to shake and squeezed around him. The waves came crashing over you as you bucked your hips erratically. He removed his fingers so that he could stabilize you, but his mouth never stopped.

He finally put your other leg back on the ground when your hips slowed and stood up. Your legs almost buckled from underneath you but he caught you before you could fall, lifting you to walk to the bed.

You watched him carry you wordlessly, your brain still short circuiting from your orgasm only knowing enough to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Not because you thought he’d drop you, but because you wanted to be as close to him as possible. It still wasn’t close enough.

He sat himself down on the bed with you landing in his lap, legs still wrapped tightly. There had never been a time where the two of you have been in the same room and exchanged so few words. You continued to stare at each other, simply amazed to be in the same space and sharing skin after three long anguished months of resisting forbidden fruit.

Your gaze fell to his swollen lips that you desperately wanted to taste again, still shiny with your essence. His hand pressed up your back until he grabbed a fistful of hair, bringing you in fervently for another kiss. It was the kind of kiss that enveloped you, that turned your legs to water and caused currents in you to flow creating bountiful energy that begged for release. Your hands roamed from his shoulders, down his chest and abs to the hem of his shirt. The two of you pried it off together and he threw it somewhere on the floor. Your mouths met again gluing your torsos together, your currents crashing in a tidal wave of electricity and emotion.

You unwrapped your legs to straddle him, lightly pushing him backwards. He pulled you with him as you both fell into the bed, smiling into each other and little giggles filling the air. You rolled your hips over him, annoyed with the layers that still separated you from the waist down. You reached down, sloppily pushing at his pants to demonstrate your displeasure. He understood your message, weaving his arms past you to finish the job and shimmying his legs until they were off. You reached down the waistband of his boxer briefs, teasing your fingertips just underneath but not going further. It thrilled you to feel his muscles tense underneath your touch. He nipped your bottom lip when your hand moved further south, and you could feel his jaw clench.

He pulled away suddenly, and you couldn’t place the look on his face which made you nervous.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s just…” his hand cupped the side of your face, caressing your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Your heart swelled at how delicate he was with you, at how much he cared. But you didn’t want to be treated delicately. And now you almost felt bad about how much you’d teased him up to this point. Almost.

“Do you know,” you said sitting up, your hand ghosting over the outline of him through his boxer briefs, “I had a sex dream about you. Right before the Japanese Grand Prix.”

“No,” he ground out.

“You had my legs spread on a desk in some McLaren office.” You felt his whole body clench again as you slid the last piece of clothing down his legs. As though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind every time you admonished him for not paying attention or not taking things seriously in those early days. The frequency of course increased, to every time you bent over, smiled, or played with your hair, to simply existing. For once, he was the one blushing and you found it entirely endearing. “I’ve literally dreamt of fucking you for three months. I want you and I need you. Now.”

His pupils dilated at your words, and his hands moved possessively from your face down to your ass where his fingers sank into your skin hoping to mark and keep you. He tried to find the words to communicate how badly he wanted and needed you too, but blood was no longer flowing to his brain and no words seemed perfect enough for you. His shaft twitched against his toned stomach, eager for your touch. You relieved him, wrapping your full hand around his impressive length pumping up and down a few times, your gentle grip slowly firming with each stroke.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His hand found your waist and you felt his grip tighten as you continued. You slithered down his body until your mouth aligned with him, spitting over his tip. He felt voyeuristic watching the saliva drip from your tongue. You looked up to see him gripping the sheets for dear life.

“Is that alright?” He nodded fervently.

“Only if you want to,” he croaked out. Bless this man, who just wanted to make sure you were comfortable even though it looked like his eyes were going to roll back into his head.

“I do. Very much,” you insisted. You dragged your tongue slowly from the base of his shaft to his tip. “You made me feel good.” Lick. “Now I want to make you feel good.” His shallow breath hitched when you finally took him in your mouth. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, you looked up to make sure he was still breathing. You found him slack jawed, but eyes full of lust. He brought a hand to your head. You prepared your gag reflex expecting him to force your rhythm, but instead simply pushed your hair out of your face.

“Fuck, you look so good.” You felt the slickness spread between your thighs at his praise, adding a hand to his base where your mouth couldn’t quite reach. You increased your speed, moaning into him. He happily absorbed the vibrations, reflexively bucking his hips into you. You tasted salty precum at his tip and could tell he was close.

“W-wait,” you slowed your pace but didn’t remove him as you looked up again. “I don’t want to finish yet. Not like this.” You slowly pried yourself off him, finishing with a satisfying *pop* as you released him. You saw his chest rise and fall at an alarming rate. He helped pull you up, interlocking your fingers in the process.

“What do you want?” you asked, knowing you would do whatever came out of his mouth without hesitation.

“Grab my jeans?” You couldn't hide your skepticism, but nonetheless begrudgingly left the nicest seat you’ve ever known to find his pants somewhere on the floor. You resumed your spot on his lap as he frantically searched his pockets, finally locating his wallet and fished out a condom. Everything else found its way back to the ground. Eyes wide, he maintained a death grip on the condom. “You’re sure?”

You smiled. You thumbed his jawline as you brought your foreheads together. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” It took him about four seconds to process what you said, but when he did closed the gap between your lips in a messy and desperate kiss that sucked the air out of you. It dizzied him too and only pulled away when he remembered he had to open the condom. You leaned back to give him some space as he struggled with the wrapper. His brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to steady his shaky hands.

“I swear I’m usually a lot smoother than this,” he muttered. You bit back a laugh.

“I believe you.”  

“You just make me nervous,” he admitted, uncharacteristically bashful. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Hardly noticed,” you said sarcastically, but reassured him with a giggle. “It’s very endearing, if it makes you feel any better.” You calmly grabbed it from him.

“It does,” he confessed as he let you take it from his hands. Without breaking eye contact, you ripped the wrapper easily with your teeth. You felt him twitch under you as you wriggled yourself against him in content, allowing him to feel your arousal. He swallowed thickly. “Where did you learn that?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” you smirked. You moved off him for a moment, and he took the chance to stroke himself a few times, watching you absentmindedly. How your hair, now perfectly tousled, fell around your shoulders. How gravity worked miracles on the swell of your breasts. How your waist sloped into your hips and thighs. You patiently presented the condom back to him and he used all his concentration to take it from you to roll it down his length. He looked at you hopefully when he was done and you rewarded him with another kiss, your hair cascading around the two of you creating a protective curtain around your new little intimate universe.

You both watched as you eased yourself onto his cock, voyeurs of your own lust. Your moans harmonized as he bottomed out. You felt deliciously stretched and full. Complete. You began slow to adjust to his size, teasing him in the process with your agonizing pace, rising up to the point of almost dismount before sinking back down again engulfing his full length.

“Does this feel good?” you cooed, already knowing the answer as you swirled your hips with him bottomed out inside you, tormentingly slow.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he groaned as he palmed your ass. “You’re so fucking tight.” You dragged a hand from his chest, down the ripples of his abs, towards where the two of you intercepted. With his jaw clenched, he sank his fingers in your hips, trying unsuccessfully to steady them as you continued to rock. “You look so good with me inside you.”

He lifted his hips to meet yours as proof of his enjoyment, the new angle jolting you forward slightly. A moan escaped as you found a rhythm as you rolled your hips back and forth, itching for the friction of his skin against your already swollen clit. Your pace quickened as his length hit that sacred spot deep in your core over and over. The bounce of your tits mesmerized him. Unable to resist, his mouth found a nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive peak that had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered. You felt the pressure pool and coil in your lower abdomen. Your eyes closed when he grabbed the back of your head, gently pulling your hair.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.” All you could do was nod in response, worried that any sound you might let out at that point would alert the whole building. It was impossible to look away from his gaze even if you wanted to. You bit your lip as the pressure continued to build, hypnotized by the repetition and sensory overload. You rocked back onto him a final time before reaching your release, collapsing on forward onto his chest and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer as your hips slowed and stuttered.

Yes

Daniel

He’d never heard a more beautiful sound before. His mouth caught yours again, absorbing the moans that continued as you rode out your orgasm. He wrapped an arm around your lower back to pull you flush to his chest and began to upthrust, building to an excruciating pace. You held onto his shoulders for dear life.

“W-what are you doing?” You knew you sounded pathetic, barely able to form the sentence. He smirked.

“Getting you to Number Three.”

“I can’t,” you whined. He pulled you close and rolled the two of you over, taking care to remain buried inside of you. You gasped at the sudden movement, eyes wide when you landed on your back.

“Three’s my lucky number.” He gave a few slow pumps before pushing himself up to spread your legs. He admired the change in your face at each new angle, each expression more perfect than the next. He brought his thumb down to your clit and watched you whither under his touch. With the new view he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the work this time.”

You couldn’t argue with his logic. The only response you could give were incantations of profanities as he fucked you into the mattress and his gentle finger rubbing the sensitive nub just above where your bodies joined. He glistened as beads of sweat formed over his body, enhancing the contours of his muscles with each thrust. It was all too much. You felt your walls begin to clench again, your body eagerly anticipating its reward.

Daniel saw your mouth mold into an “o”, the slight twitch of your muscles, and felt the pressure that was building inside you. He prayed you were close knowing that his stamina would soon run out.

“That’s it. Come for me.” Daniel counted his blessings that he should be so lucky to have a front row seat, not once, not twice, but three times to your orgasms. You were so beautiful. Too beautiful. He couldn’t stop himself from chasing his own high as he watched you twist and contort under him. His thrusts became more frantic and erratic as your moans filled the room until he spilled into you, lurching forward but catching himself before fully collapsing on top of you.

Finally the motions stopped, except for the quickened rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch your breath. You blinked at each other a few times, still unable to move or think. Daniel broke the silence.

“Holy shit.” You couldn’t help the stupid grin that formed. You pressed a hand to his cheek just to make sure he was still real.

“That good, huh?” He begrudgingly began to move and pulled out of you, rolling over to your side. He propped himself on his elbow and looked down on you, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your soft belly.  

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab dinner. But that was way better.” You both laughed as you nuzzled into each other, still peppering the other with butterfly kisses and holding onto the belief that the world was the size of a queen-size bed.

Eventually he got up to go to the bathroom. As soon as he left your side, the intrusive thoughts returned and you began mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable goodbye. You watched silently as he searched the floor for his underwear, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil. This was fun you repeated in your head. It will be a good story to tell you tried convincing yourself.  

He came back to bed and snuggled up against you.

“Now what?” he asked innocently. You squinted back at him, laughing slightly.  

“That’s an awfully loaded question, don’t you think?” He seemed confounded for a moment.

“I mean, I was just thinking we could get food now? What were you thinking?” You forgot that men could be such simple creatures. Maybe it was the audacity that allowed them to go about life blissfully unaware or unconcerned about hypothetical what if’s and unintended consequences of their actions. But for now, maybe you needed to think like a man too. You didn’t need to solve all the world’s problems in one night. Maybe all you needed was to just enjoy whatever this was for whatever time was left before you got on a flight tomorrow to return to reality.

“Yeah, I guess I worked up an appetite.” He broke into a wide grin. He grabbed your face to bless you with a kiss on the forehead before fetching the menu.

“Great. I’ll order us room service.”

-

Your eyes fluttered open the next morning. Scenes from the night before played on a loop in your head. Sweaty bodies entangled in a sea of limbs. In your experience, men who were that charismatic and that good looking rarely knew what to do with the bodies they had been blessed with. And yet…

You were afraid to open your eyes, not ready to let go of the memory that brought a smile to your face so you kept them closed a bit longer. Instead, you extended a hesitant hand to the other side of the bed expecting to feel the warm body of your evening companion, but you felt nothing. You reluctantly opened your eyes.

“Dan?” Your voice was soft and hoarse from sleep. Nothing. Maybe he hadn’t heard you.

“Daniel?” You tried again, a bit louder this time. Still no response.

You slowly got out of bed half asleep, the line between your dreams and the real world still not quite defined. You zombie-walked to the window, delicately drawing back the blackout curtains of the hotel room. You winced as your eyes adjusted to the natural light. Your clothes were still on the floor where they had been unceremoniously discarded, but the other outfit that had kept them company had disappeared. Your heart fell.

“Daniel?” you tried one last time, voice cracking slightly. Maybe he was in the bathroom. Maybe he had eaten something bad yesterday. You knocked on the door before cautiously opening it. You stood in the doorway a beat too long, unable to move from the empty space. He had been so convincing, so charming, and you fell for it. You had been so guarded and careful, you thought you had sniffed out any unsavory motives and you still were left feeling used and abandoned.

You blinked back tears before they could fall, hiding your defeat from no one in particular in the privacy of your hotel room. You wiped your eyes, chugged a glass of water, for some masochist reason put on your Enchante sweatshirt and got back into bed. It was still early, maybe you could sleep another few hours before you had to get ready to go to the airport. Maybe that sleep would help you forget and ease the overwhelming humiliation and melancholy that fell over you.

As you began to drift off, a noise at the door startled you awake. You realized it was the sound of the door key and grabbed sheets to cover yourself quickly, unsure what else to do.

“I’m not ready for housecleaning!” you yelled uncertainly, praying it was in fact hotel staff and not a burglar.

“Hey hey hey, it’s just me. Good morning to you too.” You slowly peaked your head from under the covers, shocked at the sound of the reassuring, achingly familiar Australian accent. The driver stood in the foyer, his hands overflowing with bags and precariously balancing two coffee cups. You sat up a bit more as you processed the sight in front of you.

“What-?” you trailed off. He seemed nervous, but a smile never left his face.

“I, uh, wanted to surprise you with breakfast. There’s a little place down the street. But you looked so peaceful sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you, so I grabbed your room key. But I realized when I got there I didn’t know what you liked, and my phone died, so I kind of got one of everything…I hope that’s ok. I didn’t mean to scare you –“

As he rambled, you had silently gotten out of bed to grab the cups from his hands, placing them on the table along with the insane amount of bags, one by one. With all obstacles removed, you enveloped your arms around his neck and stamped his lips with a kiss. He was surprised by the sudden gesture but returned it eagerly, his hands still familiarizing themselves with you. He blinked a few times when you pulled away.

“I promise I will get breakfast for you every day if you like it that much.” You laughed with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you looked away.

“I thought you left,” your small voice shrank in embarrassment that you had jumped to conclusions so quickly. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain further.

But you didn’t have to. He wrapped you in a bear hug crushing you into his chest, his lips nuzzled into the crown of your head, his body heat invigorating you.

“I’m sorry, I should have texted or let you know where I was.”

“No, it’s silly. I was being overdramatic.”

“It’s not silly. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what does that mean?” you asked in exasperation. He pulled away and looked at you in disbelief that you would even ask such a question.

“What do you want it to mean?” You bit your lip in frustration.

“Daniel, don’t be obtuse. In a couple of hours we’re getting on different planes to go to opposite sides of the world.”

“And?”

“We’re not going to see each other.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I know people with private jets.”

“I still have to work.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“My apartment is small.”

“I can pack light.”

“What if you meet someone else when we’re not together?” He let out an irritated sigh.

“I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

You were stumped. He could read the confused look on your face and gently grabbed the sides of your shoulders. “You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb sometimes.” You crossed your arms.

“Hey!”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe for some reason, but I want to give this a real shot. I want to take you on a proper date. See what things look like when I’m not paying you to spend time with me.”

You looked down, feeling a little guilty about how much you doubted him. You couldn’t help that you were risk averse by nature.

“Did you just… Socratic method me to get me to understand that you like me?”

“Did it work?”

“Let’s just say you have a bright future as a law school professor if this whole driving thing doesn’t work out.” You paused for a moment, still trying to wrap your head around everything. “So… you really want to give this a go?” He rolled his eyes.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

“I mean – yeah, a little. The world that you operate in is just so much different than mine. Your world consists of beautiful people.”

“You’re beautiful,” he retorted. You blushed but didn’t let the comment throw you off your stride.

“You know what I mean. Your world is glamorous and luxurious. My world is average. It’s a lot of take-out, it’s late nights on the phone with Joe, it’s boring suits, it’s work - without the recognition and without the spotlight. You could have any actress or model or singer in the world and you pick me. Can you blame me for being skeptical?” His face fell slightly as he realized that you didn’t think your shine was bright enough for him. But it was quickly replaced with something mischievous.

“What are you talking about? You’re a singer,” he said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes.

“You’ve unfortunately seen me do karaoke, we both know that’s a lie.”

“Your morning shower performances beg to differ.” He laughed at the terror that flashed before your eyes as you threw your hands over your mouth, but quickly reassured you. “I’ve listened to you every morning since we got here. It’s the best part of my day, until I see you.” He pried your hands from your face, holding them in his. “And the last thing you are, is average. Can we please just try?”

You bit your lip, unable to contain the blush spurred by his words of affirmation. The squeeze of his hands on yours caused the dormant butterflies in your stomach to flutter their delicate wings and rise to your chest. A comforting warmth enveloped you, it rose to your cheeks and the answer was there plain as day on your face for him and the world to see. No, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Only if… you’ll do a duet with me.” After holding his breath for what seemed like eternity, his joy and happiness hanging in the balance waiting for your response, he broke into a toothy grin that used every dimple and laugh line on his face. Without skipping a beat, he threw you over his shoulder and made his way to the bathroom leaving a trail of your giggles in his wake.

“I’m ready for my audition.”

[maxiemclaren]

Can you please do one where Oscar and Y/N get a cat together? Ty x

The Orange Tabby

Warnings: fluff with a little angst

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

Summary: you try to convince Oscar to get a cat and he caves.

a/n i honestly blacked out while writing this so let’s hope you enjoy!

“Babe please, just look at how cute they are!” you pleaded with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster, showing him all the cats that were up for adoption at your local shelter. “y/n, love you know how much traveling we do there is just no logical way we could have a pet right now, I’m sorry” he says pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, searching your face for a reaction, you just sigh and fall into his chest and mumble out “fine, I guess one of us has to be realistic”

Over the next few weeks you keep trying to bring up adopting a cat practically anytime you could. When he was working out, making meals, practicing on the sim, even some times when he was in meetings you would find ways to mention the beautiful orange tabby cat that they recently had received. In the kitchen Oscar was making dinner for the both of you, when suddenly you mentioned the orange cat again. “Enough y/n! I understand you might want a cat, but have you thought that maybe I don’t want one!?” Oscar yelled out of frustration, you stood there almost paralyzed, sure you’ve had your fair share of disagreements but he never raised his voice towards you. “Yeah, I guess I never thought about that, sorry Oscar.” you said and retired to the bedroom for the rest of the night. A sigh left Oscar, feeling regretful of yelling at you, he knew better than to come in the shared bedroom when you were both on edge.

In truth Oscar was trying to research how you guys could bring the cat along with you for the races, well along with getting the adoption papers in order, apparently he was a very popular cat having around 15 other people wanting to adopt him.

Oscar kept tip-toeing around the whole cat disagreement for the next week and just blissfully listened to explain why you were so hell bent on getting one. “Well my grandmother had an orange tabby cat when I was younger and he was my favorite thing” you said feeling emotional. He nodded along and held your hand while you explained, he decided enough was enough and he wanted to tell you the good news. “Love, I need to tell you something” he said practically bursting at the seams, you look at him to proceed with what he needed to say “I actually put in adoption papers for the orange tabby as soon as you showed him to me” he blurted out in a rush. “You’re kidding, Oscar Jack Piastri. You better not be messing with me” you said pointing a stern finger at him. “I’m being 100% serious my love, we pick him up next week” 

Next week rolls around with lightning speed, you two have been out almost all day making sure you have everything you need for your cat. Except there was one problem, you couldn’t decide on a name. “Ooh how about Oliver, hmm maybe Thomas” you said very enthusiastically. Oscar just laughed “Seriously Thomas? What is he an old man? A tank engine train?” you huffed back racking your brain for a name you could both agree on when all of a sudden Oscar had a light bulb moment. “Wait what if we named him Papaya?” You thought about it for a moment and came to agreement on the name. 

It has been the best 4 months with Papaya by your side quite literally, it was like your grandmother’s cat was reincarnated into him, he never left your side making Oscar a little jealous that the cat was getting more attention than him. “But loveee, he gets cuddles all day! What about me?” Oscar said pouting, you just chuckled and opened your arms for your clingy boyfriend. “Have I told you that you’re the best boyfriend?” you said while running your fingers through his hair while he laid on top of you. He mumbled out “Yes, at least twice a day since we got papaya” Looking up towards you, pure love behind his eyes. 

[eyesxxyou]

I am not really sure if you still write for hobie, but if you do...

Inexperienced! Reader who wanted to do more than just making out but since they're not in a relationship she think she would look desperate until one day hobie notices her being really stiff in the moment. He later finds out by poking at her that is because she doesn't wanna loose control and him to notice she doesn't really know that's much...yeah

So he lets her ride him😽😻

Hope you can make something of it I live your writing!

hehehehehehe I love this

You and Hobie have been together for months now. Months and you two have never even approached the idea of sex. It’s your fault, really. The anxiety of not being able to perform in a way that even begins to measure up to that of his past partners kept you from letting him proceed any further than slipping his hands beneath the fabric of your shirt and feeling up your skin. Any further and you’d retract, you’d retreat from him so fast he’d almost think that he hurt you. You were insecure, knowing that your sexual experiences were limited and not very good. All of two of them leaving you feeling guilty and unsatisfied in yourself and them.

“We don’ gotta do anythin’ you don’ wanna, luv.” Hobie would assure you, gently peppering your lips in kisses to soothe your nerves. He was so understanding, so patient with you. You knew he was simply dying not to be able to act on any of his natural urges but he never made it known to you if he was frustrated. For a second, you almost feared he might find his satisfaction in someone else, that you weren’t enough for him.

When you made your fears known to him, Hobie couldn’t help but let out something like a laugh and a snort at the idea. “Hun, you’re more than ‘nough fo me. Woul’n’t be wit’ ya otherwise. Don’ worry ya pretty lil’ head ‘bout tings like tha’.” He’s good at making you feel safe and secure in your relationship. So thoughtlessly convincing that you knew he was telling the truth. You’ve never caught him in a lie, never heard anyone say anything against the integrity of his character.

You wanted so desperately to please him and after much pep-talking yourself in the bathroom mirror after your shower, standing in a pretty silk camisole and his favorite little pair of your little white panties with a little pink bow just at the band— you managed to gain just enough confidence in yourself to come walking out of the steam-filled bathroom with the sole purpose that you were finally going to have sex with your lovely boyfriend.

He just happened to be lying in bed, strumming his guitar with his skilled fingers, a little song he's been working on for the past week now. His eyes flickered up from his guitar to check up on you, only to find you in those skimpy little panties you knew he loved so much and a matching cami top with no obvious bra in sight. "Wha's this then?"

You stood at the foot of the bed, fiddling with your fingers anxiously as you shrugged, all your feigned confidence melting out of your body at once. "I jus' thought—"

"Jus' though' wha'?" Hobie put his guitar to the side and crawled across the bed towards you. His large, calloused hands coming to find purchase on your hips as he knelt before you. He pulled your close, pressed his face into your supple stomach before looking up at you. "Though' you'd come and seduce me, then? Is tha' i'?" His hands slid up and slipped beneath the silky fabric of your top. The rough calluses of his fingertips caress the soft, plush skin of your belly. Then he lifted your shirt, just enough to trail kisses down your navel to the band of your underwear. "Comin' in here, lookin' all pretty."

You love how loved Hobie makes you. You loved the way he seemed to worship every piece of flesh he managed to get his hands on like it was his honor to be touching you rather than the truth, it was your honor to be touched by him.

“I wanna try it tonight.” You cast your gaze away due to your shyness, not even able to say the word.

Hobie chuckled softly at your timidness. “Wha’? You wanna fuck?” He laughed even harder as you slap his shoulder and purse your lips at his vulgarity. “Don’ be so shy, babe. I’m jus’ clarifyin’.” He let your shirt fall back down and fell back onto your shared bed with his head against the pillows.

Before you knew it, you were on top of him, your panties pulled to the side and his pants pulled down just enough to reveal the length of his aching cock. How quickly he got hard for you, just for you, in all your innocent, inexperienced glory. You were slowly lowering yourself down on his dick, your tight cunt swallowing his length bit by bit, inch by inch, each micromovement making you shudder and whine while Hobie kept guiding your hips down, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Tha’s i’, good. Keep goin’ jus’ like tha’.”

You whined at the stretch of him parting you walls and forcing you to make room for him. Every ridge, every vein as inch by excruciating inch was fed into you was felt with hypersensitivity. Maybe you were a tad bit overzealous because Hobie whined slightly, a smile easing onto his lips as his hands gripped harder on your hips. "Easy now, baby. Go slow." His scarred, rough hands slid between your legs and parted the soft flesh of your thighs to get a better look through the darkness.

You moaned as you reached the hilt, sticky skin meeting sweaty skin as Hobie leaned back against his pillow and groaned, head tilted back to reveal his prominent Adam's apple beneath that thin layer of flesh over his throat. You didn't know what came over you but you hand gravitated towards his neck and settled there with comfortable welcome. And to your surprise, Hobie didn't protest it. His easy smile still ghosts over his lips. "I didn' ‘xpect you to be the chokin’ type." He teased. "Go ‘head then. Commit." He coaxed you to squeeze, even instructed you on how to do it properly. "Jus’ lightly on the sides, don' crush my win’pipe now." You did as instructed, nails slightly digging into dark chocolate-toned skin as you squeezed just against the sides. You were nervous about all of this, scared that you might be hurting him, but he seemed to enjoy your proactiveness.

"Keep ya eyes on me, luv." He sighs, hands rocking you hips back and forth. "Don't take your eyes off of me." You took this as you sign to start, your thighs flexing as you rose and relaxing as you let yourself fall. It was so much. Too much maybe. He reached further than anyone has before, deep and thick and terribly good. Skin meets skin once again. The intermingling of sweat and lingering moans. Everything was felt. His rough hands guided your hips, every little movement pushing him further into you, the vibrations of his throat against your palm as he moaned.

You rode him hard, desperate for a release that hasn't been granted to you for years. Too many failed attempts. Hobie, caressing you while you fucked him, humming soft words of praise to feed you ego made you feel like those other times were never meant to happen in the first place. As far as you’re concerned, this is your first time. He never stops looking at you, eyeing out you silhouette in the darkness. Long braids fell over your shoulder and brushed against Hobie’s exposed torso as you leaned forward. "Hobie," his name a prayer on you lips. He adores it, adores you. Every last mole and scar, every piercing, every blemish. The prettiest girl he's ever seen.

"I know, princess, I know. You got i’."

You want to tell him to keep talking to you like that, constantly reassuring you, offering motivation despite the burning pain in your thighs from continuous movement. You never knew men spoke so much during sex. It sounded so sweet coming from his thick lips. All your previous lovers were absolutely silent the entire time. His voice softens the blow, words not particularly obscene in any definable way yet still able to get you wet with just as much effect as if he had eaten you out.

He knows just when to stop and start, what to say to keep you going, when to just let things ride out. He controls every movement under the guise that you have the control. Maybe they share it because the way you have him on the edge of control is completely ridiculous in his opinion.

Hobie decided to help you along, knows girls have to focus a little harder to cum, and weighed the pad of his thumb on your clit. He circles it, coaxing a few whiny moans from your kiss-swollen lips. Your hand fell from his throat to grasp at his shirt in search of more stability, thin brows pulling together in concentration as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

There’s a climax in the way you breathe, a slow building of wont and indescribable pleasure. A climax that leads to anotyou, a crippling one that builds in the pit of your core with each rising breath. You pussy pulses in waves, clenching and unclenching, and never before has Hobie so desperately wished to be bare inside a woman, have that skin-to-skin contact unable to be replicated any other way. You're far more advantageous in your aggression, desperate for that point of no return.

Between labored breaths, Hobie asks, "are ya close? Hmm? You gonna cum fa me, babe?" All you could do was moan loud enough to cover the soft clapping of skin and the sticky peel apart maybe from the sweat that covers your skin in a soft, gleaming layer, maybe from something far more profane.

"That's not gonna work for me, sweetheart. Use your words." You never expected Hobie to be so big on vocalization. It makes sense. He always preferred people to just be out with their intentions, couldn't stand hidden meanings and implications. Say it. Tell him. And he'd give you all you desired.

You shuttered, muscles tightening all at once. "Gonna-" hardly even a warning before you orgasm clung to you and ravished your body almost to your surprise. Muscles ripple, walls clamping desperately to Hobie's cock buried deep within you. you would have fallen if Hobie hadn't sat up to catch you, letting you rest you body upon his with you face buried into the nape of his neck. you nails claw at the back of his neck as his name rings out in a cry against his ear.

"Jus’ a lil’ more, baby. 'm almost there." Hobie keeps your hips moving and like a good girl, a bit more obedient than you would have liked yourself to be, you keep riding him. Neither of them thought the sounds coming from them could have been even more pornographic but the sticky, wet, sloppiness of him diving in and out of your quivering pussy was giving them a run for their money. "So fuckin’ good." He moaned, grasping onto any piece of flesh available to him.

You never been embraced in such a way, held onto like you were his lifeline. You never expected Hobie to get so personal during sex. Always thought him to be the detached type. But the way he was groaning in your warmth, holding you as close as he possibly could despite the humid stickiness between them told you something entirely different. The feel of his rough hands on smooth skin is proof that this was what sex was supposed to be. It was supposed to be intimate and close, and passionate. You were supposed to feel good about yourself. You were supposed to push Hobie’s hair out of his face and look him in the eyes. You kissed him and he kissed you back with such harshness you could have mistaken his actions as a form of cannibalism.

“How was it?” You asked softly against his lips, nervous about how well you did. Was it good enough? Did you compare in any way, shape or form to his past lovers? You just wanted to be enough.

Hobie kissed you once more. “Perfect.”

[poem-i-wish-i-wrote]

okay this request is a little special for me so I hope you like it enough to write it ☺️

so I have my own little baking business and ever since I started with it I haven't been able to get this thought out of my head:

charles meeting the reader at her own bakery and once they start dating and become a couple she makes him try and approve all of her creations before selling them, just super sweet fluffy stuff pretty pleaseee 🧁🩷

-🌟

Hiii dear. it's so cool that you have a bakery business. That's admirable. You are officially the coolest person I've interacted with. And I love how cute this request is. The writing isn't as good as it could have been, but I hope it satisfies you. Thanks for requesting.

I think that you’re sweet

pairing: Charles Leclerc x baker!reader Warning: too many dessert items listed, might make you diabetic. Proceed with caution

 You got to the shop early today. It wasn’t even bright out yet. You cleaned the kitchen and started working on different pastries.  You put the croissant in the oven, and work on some delicious strawberry shortcake, and blueberry cheesecake. Fresh brownies and cookies. Even some eclairs, danishes, cupcakes, blueberry and chocolate muffins, glazed donuts. It took about 4 hours to prepare everything. You came in at 4 am. Your employees came around 6 and helped you with everything. You cleaned the counter as your employee Inez went to turn around the open sign. 

Soon a guy with very handsome features, dark hair, and beautiful green eyes. He instantly caught your eye and not only because he's the first customer. “Good morning. How can I help you?” You smile up at him. “Good morning, I heard about this place from my friend Alex. Heard he is a regular here.” The French accent was really charming on him. “Oh yes, Alex is a regular. I’m glad he spreads the word.” you chuckle. “What can I get you?” 

“Umm, do you have any fresh croissants?” “Yes, they are just out of the oven. We have almond, chocolate, and blueberry filling ones ready. And the pistachio ones will be ready to serve in 10 minutes too.” you smile. He smiles back very warmly. 

“Perfect, can I umm…..get all of them? As many as possible?” That caught you off guard. “All of them?” The boy in front of you chuckles at your disbelief. “Yeah, I’m buying breakfast for all my coworkers.” “Oh,’’ You smile. “Yes, I’ll get them packed,” I say as I gesture at my employees to start the task. I go to help them. The boy's eyes follow you. 

“So are you Alex’s co-worker?” you ask. “Yeah, I’m Charles one of his fellow drivers.” he introduces. “Oh, that explains why you have so many co-workers” you chuckle. “You're the driver for Ferrari, right? I thought you looked familiar,” you exclaim looking back at him. “Yeah, the very one,” he confirms. “What’s your name?” He asked. You look back at him. “I’m y/n”

“That’s a pretty name. Do you own this place?” he asks, eyes still on you as you work. “Yeah, I do.” He smiles in admiration. “It’s a very nice place. You seem so young to own your own bakery. I admire that”. “Thank you” You smiled up at him with genuine gratitude. 

“Do you wanna take a seat, and enjoy a cup of coffee as the pistachio croissants are ready? It’s on the house, as you are the first customer of the day and probably the biggest customer for the month” you ask him. He chuckles a bit, “I’d like that” 

Charles takes a seat as your employee serves him a cup of coffee. He sips on it, eyes never leaving you. He watches as you work.

 Soon his whole order was ready. He comes up to pay with his card. “Thanks for coming and placing such a big order. I hope you like the croissants.” you smile at him as you hand him the bags.

 “Oh, I’m sure I’ll love them. How can I not when someone as sweet as you made them.”

  𓏵 

That was the first day you met Charles. That night he called the bakery looking for your number. It took only one date for you two to be absolutely smitten with each other. You found out, Charles was a specially charming guy, kind and warm, and he was a guy willing to be yours. A few months and a handful of romantic dates later you two were in the bakery again tonight.

The bakery was closed. It was already midnight. You two were in the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter chuckling at the flour adorning your nose right now.

You were experimenting with some new flavors tonight, trying to figure out a new recipe. He just wanted to spent some time with you, So at the time of closing, he showed up to your bakery with two cups of coffee, as your volunteered taster. “Come here,” he says. You walked up to him as he wiped the flour from the tip of your nose with his sleeves, and then kissed it. You both were giggly, having too much fun in the kitchen. 

“Try this”, you hold up a spoon full of fondue for him. He leans in to taste it and immediately his face scrunched up. “I’m sorry to tell you, mon cheir. But that’s the most disgusting thing I tasted” He exclaimed before grabbing the glass of water beside him. “What was that?” “Chilli and chocolate fondue,” you exclaimed laughing at his expression as his eyes widened. “I can’t believe you made me taste that. You are a menace.” you laugh a little bit more at his remark. 

The oven rings and you go to get out the pastry you were experimenting with. His eyes follow you with complete adoration. As you put the cake sponge on the counter he comes up behind wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as you go prepare the piastries with the cream and fillings you have made. When you are done, he leaves a kiss on your shoulder before standing straight. 

“Ready to taste some more?” “Absolutely” He expresses. “You know my trainer’s gonna hate you,” he says making you laugh again. “So what is this one? it’s pretty.” He says picking one of the three types of pastries you made. “That’s a lavender and honey pastry.” Charles bites into it and slowly closes his eyes savouring the taste. “Do you like it?” I ask in anticipation. He puts the half-eaten pastry down. And pulls you close.

“It’s amazing. Tastes almost as sweet as you,” he says, before closing the gap between your lips.

[vampiretendencies]

throw another stone at a glass house

request/summary; your writing literally gives me life. love it sm <3 would you be able to do something where jj and the reader get into an argument at dinner but they have a rule to never go to sleep mad at each other?

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings; fluff & angst, maybe a bit suggestive

authors note; love loved writing this anon :,) pls continue to send in requests ! gif creds to owner

His cured blood was boiling— searing even.

Eatery being complacent, fairy bulbs roped neatly and whimsically throughout the establishment. Fake plastic plant leaves braided about the paneled open roof. The trimming on the tables simplistic and clothed white, any other vibrancy would clash with the modern elegance that was being established. Clammer from steel trays and the mouthy Kooks that JJ was rubbing elbows with.

His attire is classy to fit his false image— dapper wrinkle-free black button up: buttons done up until the narrowing of his chest, not too revealing, not too Pogue-like. Arms broad and fibrous, giving quite the show whilst they bulged and unbulged with every movement he made. Grey slacks, steamed specifically for this event, an absolute fool as to not recognizing himself cleaned up so pleasantly.

The amount of meals he missed simply for this one meal, to scrimp and scrape pennies together merely to see a joyous picture-perfect smile planted on your face.

And he hadn’t told you he was doing so, but for about around a month now he’s been saying ‘Got a special night for us in the works baby.’

You knew it was tonight and you knew the address.

It wasn’t a familiar one, no, the both of you, Pogues, and not having heard of such a lavish restaurant. Hell, JJ was even awestruck himself when he stepped foot in the door.

But to him it was showing you a glimpse into the future with him. The life he would scavenge to define, to escape the one he’s living in now.

Full Kook.

But, nevertheless a Pogue at heart.

With that being said, he cannot fathom as to why you wouldn’t be here.

As to why you wouldn’t be here basking in the night, with him.

As to what could possibly be any more revelation, right here.

“Sir, are you ready to order yet?”

The same lanky waiter, with a nasal like voice spoke— and the irritation of it made JJ’s skin crawl. His class bow tie, with upheld posture was something JJ cut his eyes at, interrupting his thoughts as he already done prior.

“I told you no the past three times, didn’t I?”

JJ bit back at the man, partially because he’d been to JJ’s table all those times within the span of twenty minutes, not to mention prior to when he’d arrived two hours ago. The waiters mouth turns up in disgust.

“M’waitin’ for my girl, alright?”

He proceeds to add, confirming again to not come back unless he proclaimed he was ready. A kind way of saying ‘fuck off’.

“We cannot continue to keep holding your table this long, there are other people waiting to eat.”

“I’ll call her.”

The waiter clicks his tongue, spinning on his heels to the rest of his section to serve. And JJ presses your contact in his phone, as he did thirty six calls ago— to be exact.

Pitiful, going straight to voice mail, beating organ falling straight to his half-cut boot clad feet.

Pissed, seeing to it that he should be. All this money, all this devotion, only for it to go to waste due to you not being on time?

JJ would give his soul away not feel this.

On the verge of flipping over this table and making a scene just for shits and giggles, or to cope.

The reason you were late was anonymous to him. A slumber took over you, sleeping in later than usual after work, exhausted in that shared apartment. Forgetting to charge your phone, all events that pushed you farther and farther behind. Remnants leaving you pressed to get ready for the event, all whilst having to catch a ride from Kie.

One would probably wonder why JJ simply didn’t wait for you to get ready and just drive you to the surprise himself. He was too adamant, prying on the idea that, even appearance would be a remembrance factor.

Small heels colliding with cement in a clack sound, digits on the iron knob studying the building once more, to assure yourself this location was right.

Pulled straight out of a dream.

And you prodded on the thought of JJ affording this, the effort that went into it. Wondering why he thought he had to spend so much just on you, yet impressed with your boyfriend— if only you knew the sheer devastation upon him.

The red lacey satin of your dress was enough to turn heads and you did just that, strutting whimsically to the front podium to be sat at the table with JJ. Every Kook eye studied you, but you spotted one head of hair in particular. Sat in a dainty wooden chair that caused his back to be turned to you.

Numerous round tables, purely yearning for just that one.

That one with the unearthly being; light locks dancing over his features, and a jawline fierce enough to cut paper.

The one that’s battling with himself as to wether or not to make a big deal out of this, the moment he saw you next.

Little did he know you were feet away, gawking at him and the entirely ethereal gesture he did for you.

Jesus, he looks so fucking hot.

Dapper.

Heat growing on his neck whilst he feels a shadow standing over him, he continues to play with the given metal utensils in front of him.

Perhaps the knife grazing past his fingertips, would pain much less than the ache of disappointment surging in him.

He almost, turns to face the shadow preparing to tell the waiter off. But as his sense receptors fill with that familiar warm vanilla scent ...

He doesn't.

He doesn't because he knows it's you.

And he's gathering himself for the argument that's about to ensue.

Did JJ want to fuss and fight with you?

Absolutely not, he avoids confrontation at any given moment.

However, he is also human and can only take so much.

Your graceful hand stretches over his flexed back, tensing up at a touch that would normally lull him away into no tomorrow. Blue orbs daggering into your figure overtop his eyelashes, clearing his throat at your presence. Your chair scratched along the patterned wooden floor, a notion JJ always does; pulling your chair out.

This time, you do it with no complaints; declaring to avoid the subject at hand. Acknowledging that you were in deep shit with your lover.

That exact lover teaching you so: deny, deny, deny.

And God, that dress is hugging you so tight his hairs stand up on his neck. Alluring and sensual.

If he wasn't so fucking livid, he'd rile himself up enough to temper delicate, mouth-biting, love marks to your neck.

Over

And over

Again.

Until he got his fill.

You're supposed to be mad at her, JJ thought to himself.

"Hi, J!"

His insides rumbled as if he ate sour food.

But, no food would be eaten tonight.

"Hey."

His tone laced with malice and defeat. The worse kind of greeting, not the usual 'baby' or 'pretty girl' attached to it.

Then you knew were in for it.

"Thank you for tonight, s'so pretty baby."

Reading you, he knew you were probably thinking how he managed to get a table here. But something this polite, it was uncalled for to ask such a question.

"Yeah, it was prettier earlier."

He muttered under his breath, with his face contorting into a frown. Across the table yet so far away, the bright light of the eatery highlighting his cheek bones so handsomely. And you longed for him to be, himself.

"What'd you say?"

His words unclear, he was someone that usually has a voice prominent enough to hear from miles away; so it couldn't have been anything loving.

"Nothin'."

Accent think and harsh, eye contact here and there, though it wasn't anything promising.

"Gonna' have to fix your face J, it might ruin the night."

You gasped out a laugh, but to JJ it wasn't fucking funny.

If he wanted to glower, then he'd do so and he meant it.

How dare you joke about something he busted his ass to do, money that could've been enough to pay the apartments rent that month.

He thought you were being ungrateful and that you didn't appreciate him.

First you were behind time, and now you're laughing in his damn face beating around the obvious bush that was weighing him down.

And he can't help himself.

"No ... you ruined the Goddamn night!" He spat, voice broad and demanding, through grit teeth. Knowing that if he spoke any louder the couple would be asked to leave.

He's disgusted with you for being so careless with his feelings.

A night that was supposed to be filled with desperate, needy touches, and bellies full of the finest food; JJ could find it coming to a halt.

You grew ansty in your seat at his remark, lungs missing air and guilt replaced it.

Remorse entering your features.

Falling apart at the cause of his disfunction being you.

"I didn't mean to, JJ."

You reach for his hand across the table, veins apparent and digits long; in effort to console him for your mishap of being extremely late. And he lets you interlock your finger with his upsettingly, though he waited for that same touch all night; unable to deny any touch from you.

To get his point across, he lets go.

"But, you did."

He corrected you with a tilt of his head, replacing your missing fingers with a comb through his hair.

"I-I overslept after work ... and-"

"That's such bullshit. Do you know how many long hours I worked for tonight? Just for you to not be here?"

The palm of his hand slams against the table, drawing the attention of the couple next to the two. You hurriedly shush him, bringing his anger back down to earth.

"M'trying to say sorry JJ."

Both sets of eyes glare at eachother as if in competition, and JJ's stomach whirls.

"I don't want a sorry, I wanted you to be here."

"Well ... well, I'm here now. We can still order, J."

You try again but ultimately fail.

"M'not sitting here with you and pretending like everything's 'dandy', when you fucked everything up."

His words were cold and emotionless. You search for everything to say, but all that JJ said clarified it for you. Your sullen heart thumped, salty tears brimming at corners of your eyes.

Making you feel small.

Fighting to prevent them, so you didn’t fall apart in the middle of this restaurant.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

He wasn’t cruel, not enough away, to leave you here with no way back to the shared home.

No matter how big the fight or the cause of it, it always left JJ wondering if you still besotted him the way he did you.

He wondered why, altogether going with the fact that nothing was ever permanent in his life,

Did you still crave him— on your lips, in your lungs, and beneath your skin?

One way to describe the ride home was— sickeningly tense.

Amid his rage, his hand clutches the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Stealing glances at you, hoping you didn’t hate him. Neither of them able to etch a sentence, whilst the radio played and you sat turned with your knees to the door staring out of the window.

Oddly close enough to your position now.

On the edge of your side of the bed. Admiring JJ peel off his pants and unbutton his shirt, leaving them aimlessly on the carpeted floor— stripped down to his only boxers.

You’d thought you wouldn’t get much comfort tonight, being that he avoided even still after arriving home. Mustering a ‘gonna’ pick up the kitchen’, knowing full well it was only to an excuse to not be up under you while you both were overstimulated and on edge. Leaving you to get the bed ready and practice your night time routine. That’s why you are in the pajama attire of JJ’s t-shirt, his musk still attached to it.

His flesh on fire, conscious that you were boring at him.

‘When you fucked everything up,’ stung your chest and tainted your mind.

Reflecting, he’d wished he would’ve cut you some slack.

His baby, that he hoped for on nights when he had no one.

He baby, that he hoped for on every shooting star.

His baby, that he hoped for in a crowd of people.

His baby.

There was this rule book.

This rule book, was true and real, and contained all the expectations you and JJ had for eachother being together. It was for numerous reasons to begin with, but a year passed by and another and they fully became implicated.

The rule book was a thin black note book, adorned with two red pairs of lips. One was yours, and one was JJ’s— having put red lipstick on his puckered lips, afterwards staining your entire face with them.

Painting your face with his desire for you.

And still that notebook remains framed in the living room, just above the TV.

Rule #1: Never go to sleep mad at eachother.

It was in big, chunky black letters— JJ wrote it and with every letter he wrote he meant it more. One would think cheating would be at the top of the list— but that wasn’t a worry.

It wasn’t a concern because if JJ could inject you into his veins he would do just that.

And so would you.

Opening up his heart to you was not a thing he’d ever regret doing.

Letting himself become infatuated with you, and letting you treat him the way he deserved to be.

You’d silently prayed that JJ would enforce the rule tonight, seeing as even though you did fuck up, you had reason to be irate as well.

His feet pad against the khaki carpet to switch off the bedroom lights. Miscellaneous TV show, playing whilst it illuminated his appearance. He made a b-line for his side of the bed, queen size engulfing him. And you did the same, twisting to lie in bed next to him, but not right beside him.

Lying the exact same— backs flat against the black silk sheets, duvet pulled up past either arms. Pairs of eyes darting at the the other. Except JJ’s left arm is behind his head, the muscle fissuring with ease as it grooved forward from the small glance you got. His right arm is the one closest to you, flat in the open space between the two.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know how to lay.

He is so use to having skin on skin contact, but now he’s lying alone and deprived of your touch.

And you would initiate but you quiver at being denied again.

“Y’know you can’t go to sleep yet.”

His raspiness booms and echoes off the walls, causing you to jump in the slightest. Still continuing to look forward at the cinema before him, you bore into him with furrowed eyebrows— head turning on the firm pillow.

“How come?”

His insides fluttered at your melodic and rhythmically put together voice.

He’s still scolding to the touch, but realizing his tad of unreasonableness consumes him. Turning to his side, he faces you, an everlasting lump in his throat.

“Rule number one-“

“Never go to bed mad at eachother.”

You finish his sentence, and his mouth is partially open. Heartbeat becoming deathly, hands clammy at him bringing the rule book up. He remembered.

He remembered it all.

“So can we stop being mad?”

He pleads, voice cracking in the slightest.

Giving himself to you in every way possible.

Vulnerability only amendable when he’s near you.

Enchanted and explicitly, letting you suck his soul in.

And he didn’t care.

“I was never mad at you J, you were mad at me.”

Solely, truthful acknowledging that you couldn’t be viled at him chewing you out at dinner. Feeling like you deserved every bit of it.

“I s-shouldnt have said that, baby m’sorry.”

His lone hand encapsules your shoulder, the pet name leaving his mouth smoothly, a part of his everyday vocabulary. You crane your neck to place small pecks to each one of his knuckles, showing each one more attention than the last.

“S’okay, I get it J.”

“Just wanted us to have tonight, for us.”

“I ruined it, I know-“

“Nothing’s ruined … we still have us.”

His head lowers, lips puckering in the faintest way. Softly pressing with yours, all whilst enveloping you closer into his frame. An embrace his sore body hungered for. Tongue delving into your mouth, molding together like puzzle pieces. Angrily kissing to make up for the love lost today, he hummed at the comforting sensation.

“And m’not letting go of that, baby.”