#I didn’t know what else to put on the open spaces- It looks a bit bland sorry 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

[whereismyhat5678]

You know that one “Halloween Dance Party” poster with Peppino being shirtless?

I may have had the urge to draw it-

LISTEN THE POSE IS FUN AND MAN DID I LOVE DOING THE SHINE-

Halloween is among us my friends, WE MUST PREPARE 🎃🎃🎃🎃

Original Picture:

[pickingupmymercedes]

A bit mushy - Lewis Hamilton

Let's see how Lewis and his wife do in a Couple's Interview.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Fun and light Lewis for the win, again thanks a million times to @greedyjudge2 for the idea and for some of the questions, I know I don't usually write carefree Lewis but it's my favorite ❤️❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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The room was buzzing—cameras being adjusted, light stands tweaked and a handful of crew members chatting as they waited for everything to come together.

Lewis sat comfortably on the low-slung, cushy armchair beside his wife, his hand resting casually on the back of her seat tracing lazy circles on her back. They looked impossibly relaxed, as if the cameras were invisible, and this was just another day at home.

The director, a laid-back guy with a coffee stain on his jeans and a clipboard that looked way too serious for the vibe of the shoot, strolled over.

He was juggling his phone and an energy drink, clearly a man trying to keep his cool while wrangling two of the most charismatic people in motorsports.

“Okay, so this should be easy” he started, his voice overly casual like he almost didn’t want to disturb the couple’s chemistry “No serious stuff. No PR-approved answers. We’re here for the real deal. Just answering a few questions about each other, nothing too scandalous. Think... fun, but, y’know, juicy enough to make people smile.”

Lewis’s wife, legs crossed and leaning slightly into her husband’s space, raised an eyebrow. “Define juicy” a sly smile tugging at her lips.

The director chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, like... light-hearted scandal. Stuff people don’t already know. Maybe embarrass him a little—" he motioned to Lewis—"but in a cute way.”

Lewis shot the director a mock glare “Right, you don’t really need to ask her that” he said, his voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm.

His wife snorted, turning to face him with a grin. “Promise not to dig too deep. Unless we’re talking about those sneakers you wore to the beach...”

Lewis groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “Not the beach sneakers again! One time and I’m branded for life.”

The crew around them snickered, and even the sound guy adjusted his headphones to cover a grin.

There was something about the way they bickered that had the whole room leaning in, as if everyone was witnessing the most intimate, casual conversation between two people who just fit.

The director, fully entertained, motioned to the cameraman to get ready. “Alright, alright. Let’s save the good stuff for the shoot. Remember, it’s just you two being yourselves. No need to put on a show.”

His wife reached over and squeezed Lewis’s hand. “No promises.”

As they shared a quiet laugh, the subtle touches and glances between them were enough to make anyone nearby smile. There was no need for grand gestures—the way they leaned into each other, how their conversations flowed effortlessly, said more than any scripted moment ever could.

They had that kind of love that made everyone else feel like they were in on something out of ordinary, just by watching.

The cameras zoomed in slowly as the couple got comfortable in their seats. Lewis leaned back, his arm still slung casually around his wife’s chair, his body slight angled so he could face her better, and she tucked one leg underneath her, turning toward him like she always did when they were in the middle of one of their many quiet conversations.

Except this wasn’t quite so quiet. The cameras were rolling now, and the world was about to get a glimpse into how they were with each other.

The director's voice came through, just loud enough to hear but never intrusive.

“Alright, let’s get this rolling. What embarrassing fashion trend did you take part in?”

Lewis immediately leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if he was preparing for battle. “I’ll own this one. Bandanas. Wore them with everything back in the day. Thought I was some kind of rockstar or something.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows shooting up. “Bandanas?” she asked, feigning surprise. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, and she leaned closer, as if letting the audience in on a secret. “You sure it wasn’t the Timberlands?”

Lewis threw his head back with a groan, already knowing where this was headed. “Not the Timbs,” he mumbled, shaking his head like he was in actual pain.

“Yeah, the Timbs” she said, fully grinning now. “Let me remind you, you used to wear them with everything. Jeans, tracksuits, shorts, suits—”

Lewis raised a hand, stopping her, though there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I still stand by those, alright? I don’t care what anyone says. Timbs are timeless.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, patting his leg. “Sure, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The banter between them came so naturally, it was easy to forget there were cameras pointed right at them. The crew standing around had mostly stopped what they were doing, some watching the couple with amused smirks, others clearly touched by how playful yet undeniably affectionate they were towards each other.

“Okay, next question: What first attracted you to each other?”

Lewis’s wife leaned back, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to come up with something profound. “His sense of style,” she deadpanned, lips twitching as she fought back a grin.

Lewis blinked, his head cocked to the side. “Seriously? You were just attacking my Timbs? That guy’s sense of style?”

For a moment, she held her ground, lips pursed in mock-seriousness. But after a few seconds of staring at him—his bewildered look, the way he was just waiting for her to crack—she broke. Her laugh wasn’t exactly loud but it filled the room.

“Okay, fine!” She reached out, her hand landing on his thigh, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. “It was your eyes.”

Lewis’s eyebrows shot up as he gave her a soft smile. He just stared at her, thrown off by her sudden honesty.

She smiled, her gaze softening too as she looked at him. “They’re intense, you know? Like you see things really deeply. The way you look at the world... it’s impossible not to notice.”

Lewis was quiet for a beat, his usual witty retorts momentarily forgotten. His hand moved instinctively to cover hers on his leg, squeezing it gently. “Well, damn” he finally said, his voice quieter than before, almost reverent.

The room around them seemed to still. There was something about the way they looked at each other that made it feel like they were the only ones there, like everyone else had faded away.

“Next one—‘On what occasion have you lied to me?’”

Lewis’s eyes went wide, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he glanced at his wife. “Uh… Remember when I blamed Roscoe for loosing up your house shoes?”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief. “No. You’re telling me you wore my house shoes, Lewis?!”

He winced, trying to play it cool. “I mean… It was just that one time! They looked comfy, and my feet were cold. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Oh, I noticed,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just thought Roscoe had lied on them, not that your big feet had wrecked them!”

The crew chuckled, sensing the playful tension building between them.

“Roscoe was the perfect scapegoat…” Lewis defended himself.

“My poor baby” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You threw him under the bus!”

“He didn’t seem to mind,” Lewis replied with a smirk, leaning closer to her, his tone turning softer. “But hey, I bought you new ones”

She raised a brow, clearly amused but still pretending to be serious.

“Have I ever made you jealous?”

Lewis leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk creeping across his face as he quipped in before she could. “She has, yes.”

His wife’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? When exactly?”

He didn’t answer immediately, taking his time like he always did when he wanted to build up the suspense. She leaned in; her curiosity evident in the way her lips quirked. “Come on, give me the details.”

Lewis shook his head, clearly amused. “The silver dress” he said, voice low.

For a second, she didn’t react, clearly trying to place the memory. Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, her eyes widened in recognition. “Ohhh, that night!”

Her laughter exploded from her, loud and sudden, catching even the crew off guard. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach slightly as she laughed, while Lewis sat there, arms still crossed, trying his best to look annoyed but clearly failing.

“That night was something” she said between laughs, her eyes shimmering with tears of amusement.

Lewis sighed, shaking his head. “I’m glad you think it was so funny.”

“Oh, babe, you were so grumpy” she teased, nudging him with her foot.

Lewis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at her with that mix of exasperation and fondness that made it clear that, no matter what she did, she was always going to get away with it.

“What’s a song that reminds you of each other?”

This time, she didn’t even hesitate. “A Life Like This by Nao.”

Lewis’s face softened immediately. “Why that one?”

She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual teasing grin. This one was softer, more intimate. “Because... before you, I was just going through life, you know? Things were just happening, and I wasn’t really... present. Then you came along, and it was like everything shifted. It was like my Saturn return was finally over, and I could just... breathe.”

For a moment, Lewis said nothing. His face betrayed him—no amount of his typical coolness could hide the way her words hit him.

He leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re really gonna get me emotional, huh?” he murmured, his voice so low only she and the mic could pick up on his voice.

She just smiled; her eyes full of love. “That’s the plan.”

The crew exchanged looks and quiet smiles. It was impossible not to feel the connection between them, like they were watching something precious unfold right in front of them.

“What’s something you wish you did more often?”

Lewis leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Lazy mornings.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” he said softly, his eyes on her. “No alarms, no schedules, no meetings. Just us. Laying in bed, talking, laughing... not worrying about what we have to do next.”

She nodded again, her smile turning wistful. “Yeah.”

Their eyes met, and once again, the room seemed to shrink around them, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble.

“Okay love birds, next up ‘What is the most treasured possession that the other has given you?’”

She paused, tapping her chin as if she really had to think about it, though the answer was clearly already on her mind. “The necklace you gave me on our third date.”

The director blinked, looking between them. “Third date?”

“Oh yeah” she nodded, leaning back in her chair, eyes sparkling as she shot Lewis a teasing look. “He was whipped by then.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “You make it sound like I was proposing marriage.”

“You weren’t far off, though” she teased, reaching for the necklace hanging delicately around her neck. “He gave me this beautiful pendant, that he designed himself, by the way, and I remember thinking, ‘Okay, this guy is serious.’”

Lewis chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew what I wanted.”

“That you did” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yeah” he grinned. “No point in playing games.”

She looked down at the necklace again, her voice softening. “It’s not just the necklace though. It’s what it represented. He was showing me he wasn’t just there for fun—he was there for real.”

Lewis met her gaze, his smile quieter now, filled with affection. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“When did you first know that you were in love?”

This time, she was the one to hesitate, a mischievous glint in her eye. “In love with whom?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Lewis groaned, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, don’t start.”

She giggled, clearly enjoying every second of his exasperation. “I knew I loved you when we went through about a dozen paint stores in Milan looking for the perfect shade of gold for that painting.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, didn’t remember that.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I could’ve just mixed the colors myself and gotten something close. But you were so invested in finding the exact match that I just... I kept going. And I knew it then. I knew I loved you because you cared about the little things, the details that most people would overlook.”

Lewis stared at her; his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that seemed to melt the room around them.

“What’s your favorite memory of the two of you?”

Lewis leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That time we missed the flight in Paris.”

She let out a groan, breaking the feeling in the room, she already knew where this story was headed. “Nooo, not that!”

“Yep,” Lewis said with a smile. “So we were in Paris, right? And someone—” he pointed at her playfully, “—was absolutely convinced that the subway would get us to the airport faster than any car could.”

“It would’ve!” she protested, already laughing. “The traffic was insane!”

“Yeah sure” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So there we were, dragging our bumps through the subway stations, hopping from one line to the next. Every station was like a maze, and we were so lost. I kept telling you, ‘Let’s just get a cab,’ but nooo, you were determined.”

She shook her head, smiling. “It was an adventure!”

“It was chaos and we missed the flight by hours” Lewis corrected, his voice teasing but fond.

“But honestly? It’s one of my favorite memories. You were so carefree, so determined, so in the present. We were lost in Paris but we weren’t lost within ourselves.”

Her smile softened, her eyes holding his for a long moment. “You never told me that was your favorite memory.”

“Yeah” he said quietly, his voice more sincere now. “I felt like we could just... slow down. Be present. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me.”

For a moment, they were silent, the weight of his words settling between them. The room around them was so still that the soft hum of the cameras was the only sound. The crew watched them closely, as if holding their collective breath.

She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and whispered just loud enough for the microphones to catch “I think that’s my favorite memory now, too.”

Lewis smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, and for a few seconds, it was like the cameras weren’t even there. It was just them, lost in a shared memory, a world of their own.

The director, sensing the intimacy of the moment, cleared his throat gently.

“Alright, now to wrap this up ‘When can we expect little Hamiltons running around?”

Both Lewis and his wife exchanged quick glances, and almost in unison, they burst out laughing—only this time, their laughter had a bit of an edge, like they knew something the room didn’t.

Lewis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. “Ooooh, good one.”

“You had to go there, didn’t you?” she added, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “Real smooth.”

The crew, sensing the couple was playing coy, leaned in just a bit, waiting for a juicy response. But instead, Lewis leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, you never know, right?”

His wife smirked, glancing at him sideways, playing along. “When you least expect it”

The director, not quite satisfied, pressed on. “Any plans in the near future?”

“Oh, besides, like, tomorrow’s plans?” she quipped, keeping the teasing energy alive.

Lewis chimed in again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “We’ve got a lot of plans. Travel, Roscoe’s bath time…”

The director chuckled, shaking his head. “Dodging the question, I see.”

Lewis gave a knowing look to the camera, adding one final, cryptic comment. “We’ll let you know when it happens... maybe.”

And with that, they both smiled at the cameras, their laughter filling the air as the director called “cut” for the final time.

The room gradually came back to life, the hum of equipment being packed up and crew members chatting quietly filling the air. The couple stayed seated, though, still caught in the gentle pull of their shared moment, almost unaware of the bustling scene around them.

Lewis exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he glanced at his wife, his arm instinctively pulling her a little closer. She smiled, still leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“That was a bit mushy, wasn’t it?” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice, though there was warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

Lewis smirked, brushing his thumb gently against her arm. “Just a little. But you started it.”

She chuckled softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Tou’re not usually one for getting all sentimental on camera.”

He shrugged lightly, but there was no real defensiveness in his posture.

She smiled, her heart swelling at the softness in his gestures. “Good. I like you better that way.”

She sighed softly, sitting up a little and stretching her arms out with a satisfied groan. “People are going to think we’re a pair of softies.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Let them.”

She smiled, sitting back in her chair and looking at him with a tenderness that only deepened as she reached out, her hand cupping his cheek for a brief moment. “I guess it’s not the worst thing to be.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them and looked straight at her. “Nah, it’s not.”

Unbeknownst to them, the cameras were still rolling—just a little, a behind-the-scenes shot meant to capture those moments of candidness. The crew tried to keep their distance, giving the couple their space, but every now and then, someone would glance over, a quiet smile tugging at their lips. There was something undeniably magnetic about Lewis and his wife, the way they moved around each other, the way they fit together.

Without thinking, he stood up and extended a hand to her, pulling her up from her seat. As she stood, she let out a small laugh, one that was soft and filled with affection. But before she could fully straighten up, Lewis slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest in a gentle, protective embrace.

For a second, she stiffened—more out of surprise than anything—but then she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was a simple gesture, nothing extravagant, but in that moment, it was everything.

“Alright, lover boy” she murmured, her voice laced with contentment. “What’s all this about?”

“Just holding you” he replied simply, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone he used when it was just the two of them, no audience, no pressure. “Feels like we haven’t had a minute to ourselves in forever.”

She smiled as she found her place on the crock of his neck, her fingers absently tracing circles on the back of his neck “You’ll get them,” she promised quietly. “We’ll make time.”

Eventually, Lewis pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” he started, his tone teasing “about those Timbs.”

She groaned, playfully swatting at his chest. “I thought we agreed to leave the Timbs in the past.”

“I never agreed to that” he grinned, tightening his arms around her playfully. “I’m still rocking them, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Well, at least one of us has evolved.”

He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” she said softly, the sincerity of the words wrapping around them both like a warm blanket. “I really do.”

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[blossomingmoonlight]

⭑ Better when you're here ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Sad!king!aegon x sister!reader

A/N: #needthat

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, pure filth, aegon whines so much I lost count, heavy mommy kink, sub aegon, fingering, piv sex, slight handjob, titty sucking (yes again), sad aegon.

Summary: Sad and needy Aegon just needs mummy to make him feel better :((((

Word count: 2.2k (pretty short blurb)

The gardens were your favourite place in the Red Keep, it was often quiet. And not to mention the beautiful view of the sea. You sat at one of the table’s in an alcove, it was nice and tucked away, giving you your own private space.

You read some book for a while and enjoyed your wine and lemoncakes. Because you never knew when it would be the last time you could sit here. You had been of age for two years now, and even though you have avoided marriage for quite a while, you never knew what your grandsire Otto Hightower had in mind. 

Now you had at least some security since your eldest brother Aegon was now king and everyone was distracted by the war that loomed over Westeros like a black cloud. Only a few more drops of rain to form before the whole thing came crashing down. 

Frustration and anxiety filled everyone's hearts and it was hard to pretend nothing was wrong. But the person you feared most right now was Aemond, he seemed to lose control everyday and he shocked the realm when he killed his own fourteen year old nephew at Storm’s End. However he was now to marry too, to some Baratheon girl and you knew that soon they would use you too, to make alliances with houses. Binded by a meaningless marriage.

You felt like it was all you were good for, and you saw how it affected Helaena and Aegon. Your heart broke for her, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone and live in peace, yet she must be queen. Aegon was of course also affected by this, ever since he became king he drank more than ever before and had even grown a bit of a belly. Still he remained of a nice physique. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you rode your dragons with him. He didn’t have much of a relationship with Helaena, seeing her more as his quiet sister than his wife and queen and for some reason it seemed better that way. She would be left alone more. 

But you and Aegon were a different story, you liked to sneak around and have fun with him. He might not be a great king or a good man but he was a good brother to you. And you saw things in him that no one else seemed to. The crown seemed to only stress him out and you knew that he just wanted to live out his days drinking wine and relaxing but your mother and grandsire had other plans. 

As of late you couldn’t see him much, council meetings took a great part of the day and he would always hide in his chambers afterwards. Your mother seemed to keep you away from him, for what reason you didn’t know. Your days went from watching Aemond train, flying around KIng’s Landing with Aegon and running around the Red Keep with friends to praying at the Sept, locked inside your chamber or helping Helaena with embroidery. That is why the gardens offered a nice escape.

Soon you would pay a visit to your elder sister and her twins. After a morning at the sept with your mother and sister you needed some alone time. But Helaena was always a calming and nice presence and it was good to keep her company.

After reading the last sentence of a chapter you closed the book, and decided it would be nice to sow with Helaena. As you walked through the halls of the red keep numerous ‘your grace’ and ‘princes’ surrounded you, staff getting out of your way. You ascended the stairs in the throne room, it was empty. Soon it would be supper time but there was enough time.

When you reached Helaena’s door you could already hear your niece and nephew playing, which put a smile on your face. You knocked twice and a handmaiden opened, letting you inside. Helaena was sitting on some blankets and pillows, already embroidering what looked like a blanket. She looked up and slightly smiled when you joined her side, children playing on their own blanket. 

Getting handed some thread, a needle and a new fabric, as was the routine, you began to work on something for Aegon and if you worked hard enough you could bring it to him tonight. When you were about finished, a servant came in to fetch you and Helaena for supper with the family.

But when you arrived only Aemond, Alicent and Otto were there, Aegon’s seat was empty. Silently you both joined them and began eating without him. Supper was tense and silent as it had been for about a month now. When you had finished, you excused yourself and fetched the doublet you had finished before supper, wanting to bring a gift to your brother. 

When you had fetched it you hurriedly made your way up to the king's bedchambers, you knew something was wrong with Aegon, all the stress had probably gotten to him. When you had almost reached the door Ser Criston Cole stood guard there. He bowed his head before he spoke; “Princess, the king does not wish to be disturbed right now.” He said politely. 

“I understand, but I have something to cheer him up, so please, let me enter.” Ser Criston seemed to think about it, before releasing a sigh and opening the door for you, very softly as to not disturb his grace. You stepped inside and Cole just as softly as he opened the door, closed it again. It was now dark and Aegon’s fire was lit as he sat in a chair in front of it, you could hear the sobs coming from him. It broke your heart. 

You quietly made your way towards him. “Aegon?” You called out. He didn’t lift his head. You walked around him so you were standing in front of him, he looked up with red stained cheeks, and red, tear filled eyes. “Oh Aeg- what happened?” You asked him, instead of answering he buried his head into your stomach, his hand gripping your dress as he sobbed into it. The doublet falling on the ground.

You caressed his messy short silver locks and he continued to sob for a while, in your embrace. Then he seemed to speak up; “They- don’t care about- me-” He choked against you in between sobs. “Who doesn’t care about you?” You were confused but he lifted his head from your now tear stained dress. “The- the- council- mother- my own hand- they don’t- care-!” He sobbed as he looked at you desperately. 

But to your surprise he pulled you in his lap as his hands were still clinging to your dress. You gasped as you landed on his thighs, he buried his face in your chest instead and continued to cry, the doublet on the ground, forgotten. “Aegon they do care, especially mother, they just want the best for you. To help guide you since they have knowledge of war-” “No! They all hate me- everyone of them!” His breath on your skin gave you goosebumps. His hand now rested on your hip, keeping you in place. 

“You’re the only one who loves me- I see that now- my beautiful smart sister.” He seemed to have exhausted his tears as they now stopped, he breathed heavily against your chest, nuzzling his face against your breasts. He must have had wine. “You love me? Right sister?” He mumbled against your breasts. “Of course I do, so incredibly much. I would do anything for you.” You soothed him, hand still grazing through his silver locks. His purple eyes stared up at you and he smiled slightly.

“Anything?” He asked softly. “Of course, you are not only my brother but my king.” You smiled, placing a kiss on his forehead. This stirred something in him and he breathed heavier again. His face and especially his nose grazed your neck and jaw, lips ghosting over the warm skin. Your own breath hitched in your throat at the feeling. “Aeg-” He ignored you and started to kiss and nip at the soft skin. You lightly gasped at the feeling, and then you felt something hard against your thigh. 

“Brother I don’t think we should-” He stopped and looked at you with teary eyes. “I need this- I need you. Please- just- just let me make you feel good. To thank you. Please mummy.” That last part was whined against your chest where he let his hand graze the low neckline of your dress. Since it was warm earlier, it was quite thin and loose. Your body felt hot at his words, your lower stomach filled with an ache you didn’t understand.

His hand started then at the bottom of your leg, underneath your dress, as he caressed your leg moving up and up where you didn’t know you needed him. “I’m so hard for you mummy. All because of you.” He whined. His hand had finally reached your core, two of his fingers rubbing over your smallclothes, which were already wet with your slick. “Aegon-” You moaned, sparks went off in your body at his touch, you had no idea what he was doing to you but seven hells did it feel good. You hoped he would never stop, but still it felt wrong and guilt consumed you. Yet you didn’t stop him.

His other hand that didn’t tease your clothed clit was still busy with your neckline. The dress was loose enough for him to pull it down so your tits would fall out. He wasted no time in sucking on them. The feeling of his warm wet tongue sucking on your nipple made you release a moan. It felt way too good, it had to be a sin. Aegon himself moaned around your breast, bucking his hips up in need for friction. All your will to stop him had left you. Desire clouding your mind. You moved so that both of your legs were now on either side of his lap, the chair was big and comfortable enough to allow this. 

Aegon released your nipple but never moved his hand from teasing you. But when you sat down, his hand trapped, he removed it and pulled at your dress, eager to remove it. You didn’t know why you did it, but you needed him. You helped him remove your dress and shimmied out of your small clothes as well. “Need to be inside you mummy.” You gasped at his fingers sliding through your now bare slit. His fingers then stimulating your clit. Your breath hitched when he put a finger inside you, going deeper until he found that spot that would make you see stars. He stretched you out a bit for a while until he got too impatient and grabbed your hand to place between you, over his bulge. 

You instinctively squeezed it making him gasp. He moved your hand and quickly undid his breeches himself. He then reached for your hand again and helped you stroke his thick veiny cock. Pre cum started to dribble out over both your hands. And Aegon groaned at the sight. When he was almost about to cum for your hand alone, he removed it, as he did, he removed his fingers inside your cunt as well. Grabbing your hips instead, his cock was so hard it hurt and the feeling of his tip hitting your warm slick entrance almost made him cry out. He used one hand to guide his cock better inside you and you winced in pain. “It’ll be better soon, I promise.” He said softly. 

You whispered okay and he buried himself deeper inside until he was fully sheathed inside you. Your clit hit his pelvic bone and a bolt of pleasure shot through you. You felt so sensitive and weak. When you felt like the pain went away you slowly started to grind and bounce on his cock, testing the waters. He whimpered in response, it just felt so good for him. He held on to your hips so you could start a steady rhythm and he knew he wouldn't last long. “So tight mummy- feels so good.” He sobbed. Squelching and slapping noises filled the room and you both forgot all about a certain guard outside. 

Both of your moans filled each other's mouths as you held on tight to each other. Lost in pleasure you chase your release and started riding him faster, Aegon started to fuck up into you in response chasing his own high. “Mummy- I-I’m close- please- gonna fill you so good.” Aegon whined. This only spurred you on and soon you clenched down on his cock, fire striking through you, you had never felt such insane pleasure in your life. Aegon did not stop fucking into you though and only moments later he cried out as his warm seed filled you. He squeezed you against him tightly to hold you in place. 

He came so much it started to drip out along his shaft, onto his balls and some drops even landed on the floor. You both caught your breath and Aegon didn’t let go of you. But after a few moments his grip loosened and you winced when his softening cock left you. He whined at your warm body getting up but you soothed him, just getting the rest of his clothes off and helping him to the bed. You laid down as well and he immediately crawled up against your chest. “Thank you mummy.”

[nvuy]

hijacked — boothill

summary. a mission to retrieve some files from a banquet hall goes wayward south when a galaxy ranger shows up to ruin your night—and score some bonus kisses while he’s at it.

notes. save me space cowboy… save me… remembered his entire body is robotic except his head. the possibilities to hack it and take over……….. ngh

HEY YOU!! there’s a sequel now.

warnings. little bit of threatening, mind control/hacking/hijacking? you take over his body for like a few minutes? is that a warning?

“Hey, pretty thing.”

Target locked. Your scanners had already tracked him before you could even realise he was speaking to you.

You swiftly hid away the USB drive in your purse.

Did he know?

It seemed his own eye enhancements—although a lot less subtle than yours—were scanning you down as well. How transactional. You’d hoped the walls you’d put up were enough to keep whatever technology he had at bay. Or at least, not trigger any alarms.

“You looked lonely. Was g’nna buy you a drink. Help you loosen up a bit.” He swished his own drink in your face for good measure. The coupe glass in his hands looked odd. He didn’t seem like a cocktail man. Not at all.

He looked like a whiskey man. Hard whiskey. With ice. In a tumbler with ribbed glass. You could picture it.

He just looked so out of place at the banquet.

He wasn’t even following the dress code. He was wearing boots, and a pair of old pants with zips along the calves. A hat with a white feather woven into the fabric rested on a head of long white hair with splashes of black around his face.

“No thanks,” you said with a wave. You tried to discreetly scan down his body, searching for any sort of hint of how you could get into his system.

His pants and what little material of his jacket hid most of the metal of his body. Internally, you cursed at it. He had no clear openings in his neck or arms. His head seemed entirely organic.

No weak spots.

“N’aww. Shame.”

The front door felt a lot further away now. Even more so, knowing he was most definitely here for you. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet. You had a feeling he knew he didn’t need to.

“Was g’nna ask ya to dance.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I can’t dance in these shoes.”

“Take ‘em off. Who cares?” he bantered playfully. “I’ll watch out for ‘em if they’re expensive.”

“They’re priceless,” you quipped back. “All of me is.”

“Good. You know your worth.”

You were actually worth about fifteen million, as according to your wanted status by the IPC. You weren’t sure if this man was a part of them, though members of the IPC were always very adamant on letting you know that, yes, they did work at the IPC. It was usually the first thing that came out of their mouths.

Questioning if they actually worked at the IPC opened another entire can of worms.

You didn’t feel the need to ask. Not in that moment, at least.

“And what’s yours?” you asked him with a bat of your lashes.

He winked. “Guess.”

You smiled and scanned him down again. “Depends. I’d have to see what you’re made of.”

“Naughty.” He leaned back against the wall with you. “You sure you don’t want that drink? It’s a cosmopolitan.”

Very sure. You were convinced that he’d just taken the drink from one of the server’s trays. You couldn’t imagine he’d walked up to the bar and requested it for himself.

“You strike me as a whiskey man,” you eased. It came past your lips like butter.

He flashed his teeth in warning.

Then, he sipped his drink. “You’re good. Anything else you can read with your fancy eyes?”

You stopped short.

He did know. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all. He wasn’t entirely human. He must have been equipped with similar technology to realise just how advanced yours was.

You realised then with a shaky breath that you had the same vision enhancements as he did. An even match, unable to read through to each other.

He must have had so much more, too. You only had so many enhancements, whereas he was made almost entirely of metal. The thought of amount of different codings and technology he had crammed into every wire of his body gave you a headache.

Bad idea. You shouldn’t have provoked him. You needed to retreat. You needed to get home, preferably safely, with the USB stored nice and snug in your purse.

You tried not to let your nervousness show, but by the way he was staring at you, you knew he could read your face.

“That’s it, then. You’ve figured out my party trick.” You got up from the wall. “Thank you for the offer. The drink, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll be going now.”

“I’m not scaring you off, am I?” He got up off the wall too.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Not at all.” When you turned to face him, he was smiling so wide his eyes had crinkled. “Have a good night.”

“At least let me walk you out,” he insisted. He also offered to hold your purse, to which you quickly declined. That only made him smile impossibly wider. “What sort of man am I to not see a pretty thing like you get home safe?”

You headed towards the hallway, knowing he was right behind you.

The banquet was still in full swing, barely even close to ending. Most of the cast were drunk or getting there. Heels had been discarded, some missing their pair, skewed all over the dancefloor like glitter.

The golden chandelier in the main room was yet to be pulled from the ceiling. You were surprised nobody had tried to swing from it yet.

You dodged chattering groups and couples in the hallway—one of them had decided to put on a full display while right next to an unoccupied bedroom, right there in the centre of the hall.

Another one was gagging dangerously close to your feet.

You shouldered past them. “Stop following me, Ranger.”

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” You felt his hair brush over your shoulder.

You knew he had a weapon. He wouldn’t have come to threaten you without one.

Before you could reach the door handle, he grabbed your wrist, pulled you backwards, and into the unoccupied guest room that the couple hadn’t bothered to take.

He shut the door with a loud slam, though not before hearing someone whistle out in the corridor.

Your head snapped towards him. He was leaning on the door, his arms crossed, looking almost unbothered.

“We can play this game all day, pumpkin. I got time.” He waved you off with a grin. “Give me the files. I’m askin’ nicely. I won’t force ya to hand ‘em over. Yet.”

You gritted your teeth.

You were so fucking close. So close to getting out of here, and then he had to come—this walking hunk of metal and scrap—and ruin everything.

Nothing ever went your fucking way anyway. You shouldn’t have been shocked something like this would happen.

You held your purse tightly in your hands. All of this was pointless. The dress, the heels, the hair, the nails, the makeup. All of it.

You just hoped by some miracle that he hadn’t found your locator beacon yet. You’d hidden it well; within the bushes outside away from anyone’s line of sight, but he wasn’t just anyone. He could see things a lot of people couldn’t.

“C’mon. You know you wanna…” He smiled sweetly for good measure. It looked like a threat. When he leaned to the side, the golden barrel of a gun flashed beneath his belt.

You could try to make a backup. Right then. You had what you needed in your watch. He’d probably stop you before it was complete.

Or…

Or what? What else could you do?

Your locator beacon wasn’t responding, though it hadn’t been broken. Most likely deactivated temporarily. You bounced on your heels.

You then formed the worst idea of your life.

With shaky hands, you walked towards him slowly. You reached into your purse, feeling for the cold plastic of the black USB he wanted to get his grubby hands on.

“Knew you’d come ‘round.” He held out his hand expectantly.

You fished the USB from your bag.

Then, before you could place it into his palm, you tripped and almost broke your nose on his torso. Your hands splayed desperately onto his chest to keep your face from shattering on impact.

He was quick to grab your arms to steady you with a surprised grunt.

There was a whirring sound, and then the sound of something mechanical and wrong. Foreign. Not from his body, but from yours.

The spaces beneath his joints lit up abright yellow for a moment before his hands loosened from your arms.

You grinned. Gotcha.

When you pulled back, he witnessed you pull a strange light from beneath his skin before you held it along your fingers.

When he blinked, you had an entire copy of his body in the palm of your hand. A hologram formed of his entire artificial makeup. Every crevice of his body, all of the metal that weaved to make him who he was.

All of it in your hand, with puppet strings attached.

It was missing just his head.

He froze. And then, he rushed out a simple, “what did you do?”

You tapped on his holographic arm on the screen. “Hijacked.”

When you moved it, his arm twitched to life.

Against his will, he pulled the gun from his holster and dropped it to the floor. It clattered uselessly onto the carpet.

He could only simply stare as his body moved against his will. There was no way to even twitch a finger with all his might.

It was like you had shut down all of his systems and replaced them with your own.

He should’ve seen this coming.

You whistled as you studied the model of him in your hands. When you tapped onto his neck, it zoomed in to show every single wire and thread of metal, as well as an accompanying string of coding.

“I don’t need any special enhancements to read you. What sort of cyborg comes in alone to try and stop me? You know who I am, don’t you?”

He wasn’t able to move his body. He said not a word.

“Somebody clearly doesn’t understand their body.” You patted his chest. His fans had kicked in. You could hear them whirring.

He was glaring at you.

“Did the IPC send you?”

After a moment, he scoffed. “Hardly. I don’t work for those… people.” It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it.

“Huh.” You didn’t think he was lying. “So… you’re not concerned about my bounty?”

“You said yourself you were priceless,” he countered easily. Despite his position, he was still grinning. “And besides, I’m sure my bounty is heaps bigger than yours.”

You almost snapped. He’d come to gloat, even at a disadvantage.

“You look better with your mouth shut,” you spat. You shoved the lining of code in his face for him to see, making the holographic blue screen as large as you possibly could. “I could make you tear yourself apart. I could make you forget who you are. I could alter whatever sort of brain you have in there. Watch yourself.”

Still glaring, but this time his lips sealed almost instantly.

You made him stand ram rod straight as you turned around, now eyeing a golden vanity next to the bed. The bedroom was surprisingly clean, save for a few empty glasses strewn about. No stains, no messes.

You sat down in the chair and angled the mirror so you could keep your eye on him.

You breathed out, trying not to stare at him for too long. You could feel your irritation growing, and it was showing on your face. If you stared at him for any longer, you feared you’d pull his limbs off with your own bare hands.

You fished out the powder from your purse and leaned closer to the mirror.

Maybe if you looked better, you’d feel better.

“You’re seriously dollin’ yourself up right now?” he asked, briskly annoyed.

You dabbed the sponge beneath your eyes. “Can’t let anyone think I let you put your hands on me. I have standards.”

He had nice hair. You weren’t sure if it was real, though. You weren’t sure if he could even grow hair. He was almost entirely artificial, save for his head.

He didn’t seem to age—his face, at least. You weren’t sure how old he was supposed to be, but his organic skin still looked fresh, as if left untouched and well taken care of.

Maybe it’s because that was all he had left of him.

You snapped the powder shut.

The ranger sneered. “Yeah, yeah. I’d beat you in a fight anyway.”

“‘Course you would,” you answered easily. You pulled a stick of gloss from your bag. You swiped the lipgloss over your lips, fixing it with the tip of your nail. “That’s not what I’m talking about, though.”

You stood from the chair, placing the gloss back in your purse.

“You’d never hit me, would you?”

His face almost lit up with fury.

It was absolutely hilarious.

“You’re so lucky I can't move,” he threatened. “You wouldn’t recognise your pretty face in the mirror.”

“Such a gentleman.” You stood on the tips of your toes to press your lips to his cheek. You hoped the sticky gloss bothered him, knowing he would be unable to wipe it off of him. You hoped it stained his milky skin a nice glittery bubblegum pink.

You hoped the scent of your perfume lingered on his skin, and he never forgot your name.

“Of course, gorgeous.” That same mocking tone. “Anything for you.”

You held the USB up to his lips. “Open.”

Begrudgingly, he did so.

You slipped the stick past his lips until his teeth caught onto the plastic and held it still.

“You can have it. I already got what I needed anyway.”

You kissed his other cheek for good measure, lingering for a moment before you pulled away. Two pink glittering stains on his face now; perfectly symmetrical.

“I’ll be thinking of you.” And that you would. You winked at him. “Bye, Boothill.”

Then, with sudden grid lines of yellow forming over your figure, the locator beacon buzzed to life, and you disappeared.

In the blink of an eye, you were outside in the cold night air. There were few people out in the front garden of the building, and none had spotted you.

You picked up the gadget and quickly left. A copy of his body and the USB were now a collection in your own personal belongings.

As soon as you vanished, Boothill regained control of his limbs and fell to the floor, trembling with the after effects of your invasion. His teeth were gritted as he pulled himself up onto the guest bed.

He spat the USB out before he could bite down and damage it.

He held it between his thumb and index finger.

There was a smear of your lipgloss on the side of the USB stick.

Mission accomplished, he supposed.

He also had two matching lipgloss stains on his skin as a trophy. He could see how stupid he looked in the vanity mirror.

He snickered with clenched, shaking fists.

You smelled like strawberry.

[lucimaaie]

we ✧.* tlou

pairings - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - ellie promised herself she wouldn’t get attached to anyone after santa barbara, look how that turned out.

warning - angsty, not proofread cause i wrote this pretty quick, short (as always),

After Santa Barbara, Ellie had no plan for the future. She’d left Dina and JJ and let Abby go. She knew would still have nightmares and the pain wouldn’t leave her. What else was there to do?

Maybe that was the reason she fought you as you tried to take care of her. “Leave me alone!” She said as you’d tried to help her up from the water, raising her arm around your neck. Thinking about it now, the memory of her weak attempt to tussle you made her laugh.

You fought as hard as she did despite being starved and traumatized yourself. She didn’t know your story, just that you were the only one who didn’t want to kill her as soon as you came out of that crowded cell. You knew that she was immune and that was it. Nothing else was important in the moment. Nothing she wanted to tell you anyway.

You took care of her so much she started to feel guilty for not returning the favor. Cleaning her wounds, taking first watch, giving her whatever food you two had left. Ellie questioned whether it was pity or too good to be true, that you’d try something the moment she relaxed. But as she got stronger, nothing bad happened. You cared for her all the same.

So she cared for you. She watched your back and let you sleep a bit longer since she knew her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She held you the way you held her when she awoke screaming. Gave you light kisses everywhere to distract you (and her) from a haunting past she knew nothing of. Conversations weren’t your speciality. You didn’t know a lot about each other, but you knew each other.

Eventually, you got lucky and found an abandoned cabin far away from Santa Barbara and quickly settled in. It wasn’t big and there was one bed, but it was shelter. Ellie didn’t want to call it home just yet.

“We should move south.” Ellie blurted, shaking the snow off her boots onto the porch. She could already hear your lecture about letting the cold in, but that wasn’t her focus. Did she just say we? “I mean, nevermind. Here’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was cold as hell and she was tired of the cold she’d been in her whole life.

“No, why south?” You said as you adjusted the small sticks that provided at least a little warmth in the small space. Ellie came to sit down next to you, leaving no space between you. She looked at you, admiring how the orange light shone on your face.

“It’s hotter.” She held your gaze as you listened intently. “Probably make hunting easier.” Ellie knocked her shoulder into yours without much force.

“You ever been south?”

She shrugged before shaking her head. “Nope.” She looked at the fire. That might be a downside of south. No more needing to snuggle up to you to not freeze to death. South you probably have to give each other some space to cool off. “Was just a thought.” She scratched her ear. “What’d you do while I was out?”

“Counted our supply. put on the fire. cleaned our clothes. a bunch of nothing.”

“What about eating?”

“uh-no. forgot that part.”

“Course you did.” She sighed, rising to her feet and look around for the bag you two stuff all cans in. All your belongings in the cabin were generally pre-packed in case you had to run, but still the fact that you’d been able to accumulate these things together made her feel something she couldn’t describe. Annoyance was part of it. that she got so attached to you after she promised herself she wouldn’t. that it just complicated things. But that already happened the moment you’d kissed and let things go further.

“here.” She used her knife to open the can of beans and sat back next to you, handing them over.

“you do know we sleep in the same bed, right?” You hesitantly took the can and swished them around with the spoon.

“trust me i know, but i don’t need you losing body fat and clinging to me like a koala.”

“you’ve never even seen a koala.” You said, taking a bite of the beans. not bad but not good and most importantly not expired. You set the can down in the middle of you, signaling that you wanted to share. She shook her head and sighed as you pushed the can closer to her, your eyes saying ‘please.’ She took a small bite just to appease you and shoved it over to you. “just shut up and eat.” she swiped her thumb over the edge of your lip. “and stop eating like that. we’ll get you more food tomorrow.”

Hours later, ellie shot up in the middle of the night, her heart feeling like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She choked on her own breaths as she buried her head into her knees. “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—“ She mumbled the same words you did when you saw her like this.

“ellie?” You sat up as well, watching her with concerned eyes. She started to sob as she heard your voice, whether out of fear or relief you didn’t know but you didn’t give it much thought as you ran your fingers through her hair, letting her cry in your lap.

Eventually her tears stopped, leaving her with a pounding head and the comforting silence you provided. Her head rose from your lap and she pulled you into her, not willing to let go. Her head rested on your shoulder as her hands roamed under your shirt. There were no words for a while.

When there were words, they came quietly. “el?” you whispered. She didn’t respond for a while, still stuck in her swarming thoughts. “yeah?”

“where are you from?” It felt like a random question to ask, but there was no way you were gonna ask what she dreamed about.

She blinked for a few seconds, surprised. It was a simple question, yeah, but it could lead to other questions. she was scared to answer and ask back. “boston, i guess.”

“oh.”

“why’d you ask?” She let her head fall back on the pillow and tugged on your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around. And you did, facing her.

“i guess i just realized i never knew that stuff about you.” You said, fidgeting with her hands as you awaited her response. It felt like some dangerous territory, you weren’t supposed to cross. That was weird, you already crossed other, farther lines. “should i have not asked?” You whispered, tentatively.

“no, you..” She cleared her throat. “you can ask.” She finally looked at you, eyes soft with fear, pain. “i just..i don’t wanna talk about it all.”And go back there, she wanted to say.

“you don’t have to.” You scooted closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder.

Elie wrapped her arms around your back, her legs around yours, and looked at you. She let out a deep sigh as her heart beat for a different reason this time. “we don’t have to talk about it all. not right now.” we, there was a we. she wasn’t making it up. “okay,” She kissed your forehead.

thank you for reading!

[jo-speaks]

taste ft. luke hughes

in which...

you know you'll always be present in luke hughes' life, even if you aren't together.

warnings: MDNI!! brief smut, oral sex (f! receiving), alcohol consumption, cheating (? kinda but not really), i think that's it

track one in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series !

quick note: bit earlier than expected, but i can’t let you guys know my next move

Oh, I leave quite an impression

Five feet to be exact

“Damn, Lukey. You walked past her and she looked tiny as hell.” Jack teased his younger brother. 

Luke hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you. You were currently in an intense game of beer pong against his older brother and a guest whom he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, your short, tight dress leaving the youngest Hughes starstruck. He watched as you threw the small ping pong ball across the table, yet again with the accuracy to have his eldest brother chugging from a red Solo cup for the eighth time that night.

“She’s not that short. I’m just really tall, I guess.” Luke yelled in response, the loud music filling the space making it impossible for him to be heard at a normal level.

Jack rolled his eyes, siping whatever mixed concoction he had made in his not-so-sober state. “Uh-huh. At least you aren’t worrying about Natalie anymore.”

Quinn groaned as he missed the cup across from him, “Alright, next round I want Y/N on my team!”

You laughed loudly, leaving Luke even more mesmerized. “Q, the drunker you get the less losing hurts.”

Once again, it was your turn to throw the ball. You stuck your tongue slightly past your lips in concentration as you tried your best to aim towards the red plastic.

“Hang on, hang on.” Quinn stalled, causing you to groan dramatically. “You’re scary good at this. So, you can’t look at the cups. Take a blind shot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What? How is that fair?” “It’s not, but neither is how good you are.” 

“Whatever.” You agreed, turning your head to look at anything else. Before the ball could escape the grasp of your fingertips, your eyes wandered a little too much, making eye contact with Luke. He was already staring at you, so he didn’t bother to look away when you met his gaze. 

The way he was leaning against the counter, legs spread and his tight jeans doing nothing to hide the prominent print of his cock peeking through. 

In your awe, you dropped the round piece of plastic, letting it fall into the cup of beer below it. 

“Does that mean you drink?” Quinn asked.

You're wondering why half his clothes went missing

My body's where they're at

The bright sunlight woke you up. You groaned as you blinked your eyes open, taking in the moment. Well, until it was interrupted. 

Luke threw his arm around you, your body covered in a large piece of fabric. “My hoodie looks nice on you.” 

You laughed softly, “You should let me keep it then.” 

“I didn’t plan on ever taking it back.” He answered, peppering soft kisses on your face, quickly finding your lips. The more your senses started to come back, the more intimate the moment felt. 

You soaked in the sunlight together, not wanting the moment to come to an end. But unfortunately, you had a cat back at your apartment who was probably meowing for food by now. 

“Gotta go, Luke.” You mumbled against his lips, doing nothing to stop his wandering hand from finding its way in between your legs. 

His lips trailed from your lips to your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you cry out softly. “You could also stay, let me take care of you.”

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

“What an asshole. He purposely put that on his private story so he could make sure you’d see it.” Your best friend, Ivy commented, taking your phone out of your hand and shutting it off. 

You laughed, “It’s fine, Ivy. I laid in that bed in that same spot a million times. It sure as hell will take more than one girl to get the smell of me out of it.”

The girl squinted her eyes before coming to a realization, “You washed his sheets with your detergent, didn’t you?”

“You bet his sorry ass I did.” You smirked.

Ivy burst out in laughter, her hands grabbing your forearms as you started to laugh along with her, “You petty bitch.”

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, I bet you do

Just know you'll taste me too

“So yeah, he got back with Natalie. That’s who that girl on his story was.” Quinn commented, taking a sip of his coffee. 

The two of you had started going out more often after you and Luke broke up. Well, when Luke broke up with you. He had claimed he just didn’t love you anymore, but after spending a little less than six months with him, you knew it was bullshit. So, as any sane person does, you called up his older brother and asked him to give you the real explanation. Since then, it had basically become routine for the two of you to catch up whenever he was back in Vancouver.

You nodded, “I figured, but thanks for letting me know.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. We told him to wait before jumping into anything, especially since he was still texting her the whole time you guys were together.” “So that ‘N’ in his phone wasn’t actually Nico? No way!” You joked, knowing that the single-letter contact couldn’t have possibly been his team’s captain. 

Uh-huh

He pins you down on the carpet

Makes paintings with his tongue (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)

His hands pinned your hips down against the living room carpet, his need to eat you out far too great to even make it to the bedroom.

“Fuck, Luke.” You moaned, gripping his damp curls. 

He kept licking at your clit, doing what felt like absolute magic against your core. “You taste so good, baby. Doing so good f’me.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations of his voice only adding to the pleasure. 

You felt yourself getting closer to your peak, the room around you slowly disappearing as you fell into a blissful state, the only thing you were focused on was how good Luke was making you feel. 

However, a consistent buzz from next to your spread legs caught your attention. Even through blurry eyes, you could see a capital ‘N’ displayed on his phone screen, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. 

Before you could say anything about it, Luke took your swollen bud into his mouth, suckling harshly, distracting you completely from saying anything.

He's funny now, all his jokes hit different

Guess who he learned that from?

Jack and Quinn had become irritated at their brother and his girlfriend’s laughter coming from the pool room. 

“I might just be bitter, but her laugh is stupidly annoying. I like Y/N’s. Hers sounds less annoying.” Jack said to Quinn, staring from the porch into the room. 

“Luke’s not even that fucking funny. All the jokes he’s telling her are jokes Y/N said to him. He could at least try to be original.” Quinn agreed.

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

Luke laid in his bed, waiting for Natalie to finish taking off her makeup at the desk across from him. He rolled over into the space where she now had claimed, his nostrils taking in a familiar vanilla scent.

“Nat? Did you use a new hair product or something?” He questioned, sniffing the sheets more aggressively.

Natalie made a face, “What? No, I haven’t.” 

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too

“Stop doing that.” Luke whispered against her lips. 

Natalie groaned, “Doing what?”

He pulled away, wanting to get a better look at her face, “Tugging on my hair. I don’t like it.” “She did it all the time, Lu. I saw it.”

Luke knew exactly what she was talking about. The only person he had let tug on his hair during a make-out or during sex was you. It didn’t feel good when anyone else did it, not even his girlfriend.

“Whatever. Just don’t do it.”

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

“Maybe we need to cut you off.” Ivy said, pulling the shot of vodka from your hand before you could take it. 

You snorted, “Nah, I’m fine.”

To everyone, it was obvious you were not fine. Emotionally, sure. But sobriety-wise? Not at all.

Ivy gave you a look of concern, “So this drinking spree you’ve been on tonight doesn’t have anything to do with Luke?”

“Nope.”

Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there

Luke peered up at you as you pulled your hair back, “Already? Thought you’d want to kiss a little first.”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up. I just don’t want my hair to keep getting stuck on my lip gloss. It’s getting annoying.” He simply laughed and pulled you back in, pressing his lips to yours yet again, savouring the taste of your cherry lip gloss as he took your bottom lip into his mouth. He felt as if he didn’t even need oxygen anymore, only you, on his lap, your lips against his. 

After a few more kisses, you pulled away to catch your breath, Luke’s hand on the back of your head keeping you close to the point where you were practically breathing against his mouth. 

You can have him if you like, I've been there, done that once or twice

And singin' 'bout it don't mean I care, yeah, I know I've been known to share

Well, I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“Oh please! It’s clear that you’re still into him, you crazy bitch!” Natalie yelled, getting the attention of a few people in the arena parking lot. 

You scoffed, “I’m not. The only reason I’m here is because of Jack, not Luke.”

“Yeah, right. You know you can say you don’t want him anymore, but it was clear at that karaoke bar that you’re still hung up on him!”

“Holy shit, how many times do I have to say it? The only reason I sang that song was because it’s a good fucking song! If I wanted him back, I could get him back.”

Natalie wasn’t even able to get a word out before you continued speaking. 

“Who do you think taught him those jokes you laugh at? Who do you think taught him how to eat pussy like a real man instead of a little bitch?” 

She listened closely to your words. Now it made sense to her why he had gotten better at eating her out after he was with you. You noticed the realization on her face and you felt a slight twinge of guilt in your stomach for exposing Luke like that, especially in a public setting. Unfortunately for him, your patience had already run thin, so you couldn’t stop yourself there. 

“I don’t care how many times you kiss him. Or how many times you fuck him. The only reason he knows what to do is because of me. And no matter how hard you try to make him forget, he won’t.” You snapped, turning on your heels before she could even inhale.

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too (Taste me too)

For the next few weeks, your words lingered in Natalie’s mind. You were right, and she knew it. The way he gripped the sheets a little tighter before she laid down, the way he all of a sudden didn’t like his hair pulled. 

She thought she wanted to marry this man, to have a family with him. But she knew you were right, Luke would never be the same after you. 

And Luke knew that too.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you, no

(La-la-la-la-la-la-la) Yeah, ah-ah

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“All I heard was her telling him to get over you before she stormed out the house.” Jack explained, hopping into the passenger seat of your car. You were driving him to the airport since he was heading to Chicago for his surgery. 

You hummed, “I didn’t mean to make her feel bad, but she called me a crazy bitch. Like it’s my fault he hasn’t moved on.” 

Jack laughed at your words, “That’s true. I don’t get it though, he broke up with you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I guess I’m just that amazing that I linger wherever I’ve been.” You joked.

“Like a taste in his mouth, he can’t get rid of?” 

Your eyes widened slightly at Jack’s shockingly accurate analogy, “Exactly.” 

[helioooss]

fade into you

synopsis: you meet hollywood star, jennie kim, on a sleepless night…the first of many…you both bring comfort to each other.

w/c: 8k+

warnings: slow fckn burn, it’s too long. y/n is lonely, jennie’s lonely…and you’re both just yearning for each other.

a/n: ive been working on this for ages and obviously got carried away with how long it is

Los Angeles is never quiet. At night, the city hums with a different kind of energy; neon lights, angry car horns and the low murmur of people who don’t want the day to end. From your apartment’s rooftop, the party below sounds like a distant wave, layers of brick and glass muffling all the noise.

You’re usually never present at these things, but tonight, your neighbour, Irene - a nepo baby producer, invited you to one of her parties after bumping into her earlier.

It’s funny, really. You live in the city of stars, but it never felt like your world — you don’t belong to a galaxy of velvet ropes, red carpets and flashing cameras. And so, you decided to step out of the room, immediately wandering to your spot.

Your fingers graze the edge of the cold metal railing as you take a deep breath, hoping the fresh air might clear the maze of thoughts running through your head. Insomnia has a way of weaving itself into your bones, and tonight is no exception. The weight of your sleepless nights presses on your eyelids, but you know sleep won’t come.

It never does when you need it.

Just as you fish a pack of cigarettes out of your pocket, beginning to settle into the quietness, the soft click of a door opening behind you startles you out of your zone.

Someone steps out onto the rooftop, their presence breaking the stillness. You don’t look right away, assuming it’s another party guest taking a break from the noise below. But then, you feel it; the odd sense of familiarity.

A voice follows, soft and hesitant. “Mind if I join you?”

You turn towards her, and there she stands in all her glory: Jennie Kim, Hollywood’s darling. Even with only the shadows of the moonlight illuminating the place, there’s no mistaking her - sleek black dress and all.

You recognise her immediately, but you don’t react the way most people would. There’s no gasp of surprise, no wide-eyed admiration.

“Go ahead,” you motion towards the empty space beside you, putting the cigarettes back into your pocket. “All yours.”

Jennie looks momentarily taken aback by your nonchalance, but she moves closer, leaning against the railing a few feet away. For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s not awkward, just quiet.

It’s the kind of silence that you both seek.

“I didn’t expect anyone else to be up here,” she says after a while, her eyes scanning the city below.

“Neither did I,” you reply. You glance at her, studying the way her fingers fidget slightly with the hem of her jacket. For all the fame, all the attention she must be used to, Jennie seems surprisingly normal. “I’m usually up here alone.”

She’s still gazing out at the city when she speaks again. “I needed to get away for a bit. The noise gets too overwhelming.”

You hum, understanding what she means. “I know the feeling, everyone down there is just too caught up in their worlds. And it’s not mine, sadly.”

Jennie tilts her head slightly, as if your words resonate with her. The laughter below rings louder for a moment before it dies down again, leaving the two of you in a strange bubble of calm.

For a few more moments, neither of you speak a word - entangled in the comfortable silence that breaks with the occasional gust of wind and traffic.

“I’m Jennie, by the way,” she says out of a sudden, her voice a whisper; almost uncertain.

You smile at her. “I know.”

Jennie’s lips mirror yours, the first one you’ve seen since the party started. “Heard good things about me, I hope?”

This earns her a chuckle from you as you shake your head. “Hmm, I’ll keep that mystery to myself.”

There’s a flicker of amusement in her eyes at your response, studying you for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out why you’re not treating her the same way everyone else does - but she seems to appreciate it, because when she speaks again, her voice is lighter, less guarded.

“Do you live here?” she asks, brows furrowed and all, her curiosity breaking through her reserved demeanor. “I saw you at Irene’s party earlier.”

“Yeah, a few floors down,” you answer, glancing back at the building behind you. “Don’t know why Irene invited me and why I showed up, honestly, I knew it wasn’t going to be my crowd.”

“Of course Irene did,” she laughs. “I’m glad you came, though. Who else would be on this dodgy rooftop with me?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you grin, ignoring the latter comment. “I come up here when I need to clear my head, it’s a great spot.”

Jennie hums in agreement. “I don’t get to be alone much. There’s always someone around, always wanting something from me.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. Her world is one you’ve only ever seen from an outside perspective, but the way she says it, there’s a weariness in her voice that feels too familiar.

You’ve felt it too, for different reasons.

“I guess it’s hard to find quiet when you’re…well, you,” you say carefully, not wanting to pry too much. “You’re a star.”

Jennie lets out a quiet laugh, though there’s no real humour in it. “Yeah, it’s hard to find anything real sometimes.”

Her words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you see the person behind the fame.

Jennie Kim, the Hollywood star, is just Jennie right now, someone who’s tired, someone who’s trying to escape, just like you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That night is the first of many.

The rooftop becomes your shared sanctuary, a place where both of you can escape the noise of the world below. You don’t plan these encounters, they just happen.

Sometimes you come up, expecting to be alone, and find Jennie already there, sitting quietly on one of the lounge chairs. Other times, she arrives after you, silently joining you by the railing.

The conversations are never forced. They start slowly, like the flicker of a match that eventually catches fire. Jennie talks about her life, the constant pressure of living up to expectations, how exhausting it is to always be in the public eye.

You’re surprised by how candid she is, how she doesn’t shy away from talking about the things that bother her the most.

“I love acting,” she says one night, her voice raw in the darkness. “But sometimes I feel like I’m losing myself in it. Like I’m becoming this version of myself that’s not really me.”

You listen quietly, nodding as you try to understand what that must feel like. “I get it. I mean, I don’t know what it’s like to be famous, but I know what it’s like to feel disconnected from yourself.”

Jennie looks at you then, her coffee-coloured eyes searching yours. “Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough? Like no matter what you do, it’s never enough?”

The question catches you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer. “All the time. I’m a writer, and every day I feel like I’m failing at it. Like everything I write is just mediocre and no one wants to read it.”

She nods, her gaze softening. “I read it.”

Your heart nearly drops, blood rushing to your cheeks. “You do?”

“I adore your writing, and believe me, others do too.”

There’s comfort in her words, a weight that presses down on both of you as you sit there in the quiet of the night. You never expected to have this kind of connection with someone like Jennie Kim, but here you are, two people who feel lost in different ways.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A few days had passed since that unexpected rooftop meeting with Jennie, and you’ve been trying your best not to think about it too much - brushing it off as a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

You let out a sigh as you press open on the elevator, a coffee and a book on the other hand. You’re hoping to spend the rest of the afternoon catching up on work, but the doors reveal Irene in her designer boots and oversized sunglasses.

She flashes you a wide grin, her energy filling the small space instantly. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite writer. Went Houdini at my party again, did you?”

You chuckle, rubbing your nape. “Yeah, sorry about that. All the stars in the room hurt my eyes, you know?”

She waves her hand dismissively, her signature rings glittering. “No dramas, you didn’t miss much. Drunk producers trying to convince everyone they’re geniuses and some rookie actor crying in the corner because he didn’t get the role he wanted.”

You snort, taking a sip of your coffee. “Sounds like quite the event.”

“I know, just boring new Hollywood stuff,” she responds, leaning against the wall. “Jennie was there too, though, surprisingly.”

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the mention of her. “Jennie?”

The elevator doors open and closes again when none of you move, too indulged in the conversation now.

“Yeah, Jennie Kim. You know, international superstar, face of like a hundred different brands, has a smile that could end wars; that Jennie,” Irene teases, raising an eyebrow. “I heard you two met on the rooftop the other night.”

“Hmm, we did,” you reply slowly, not sure where Irene is going with this. “It was kind of by accident.”

“Uh-huh,” she’s smiling at you, like she knows something you don’t. “Funny thing about that, she was asking about you the next day.”

You have a surprised look written on your face. “She was?”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if this was the juiciest gossip she’d ever shared in her life. “You know, casual stuff. Like, ‘do you know Y/N well?’ and ‘what’s Y/N like?’ It was actually adorable.”

You stare at her, completely thrown off balance. “Why though?”

“I’m just saying, you must have made quite the impression. People don’t usually catch Jennie’s interest like that. It’s hard to break through the whole ‘world-famous celebrity’ thing she’s got going on, you feel?”

You let out a nervous chuckle, trying to downplay it as you ignore the flutter all over your chest. “I don’t know. We just talked for a bit, that’s all.”

Irene rolls her eyes in disbelief. “Oh sure, just a bit.”

Your face goes warm at the thought, and you quickly shake your head. “No, no. It’s not —“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” she interrupts, holding her hands up as if she’d heard the excuse a thousand times. “But come on, Y/N, Jennie doesn’t ask about people she’s not interested in.“

You groan at that, not sure how to respond.

Her grin softens into something more genuine as she presses the elevator open. “Listen, you don’t have to close yourself to every person who knocks at your door. This whole time I’ve been this building, I’ve been in elevator rides with girls who were bawling their eyes out and I just know they came from your apartment.”

“How would you even know that?” you ask, defensive tone in your voice.

“They wear the same sad look on their face.” The doors slide open, and she steps out, leaving you to process everything she had said. “Oh, and Y/N?” she calls out after you, sticking her fingers out just before the doors can close.

“Yeah?”

“Try not to overthink it,” she adds with a playful smirk. “Jennie is interested in you. The rooftop meetings might turn into something more elevated if you know what I mean.”

You whine at her joke, and she bursts out laughing, the sound echoing in the hallway as the elevator doors slide shut, leaving you wondering what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Jennie is different at night. Softer, more vulnerable than the poised and confident image you occasionally catch glimpses of on magazine covers or the news. Out here, with only the night sky and the cold breeze as witnesses, Jennie is just Jennie. And you, well, you aren’t a nameless, sleepless writer either.

You’re someone she seeks out, the only person she can talk to without having to put a mask on.

One night, you’re both sitting on the lounge chairs near the edge of the roof, the distant glow of the city illuminating the sky like a sea of fading stars.

The conversation has been low after not seeing each other for over a week, the both of you just drowning in your own thoughts. However, the only difference is that the silence between you is comfortable now; a result of the odd friendship you’d built over the weeks.

“Do you ever feel like you’re just…floating?” she finally breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turn your head slightly to face her, trying to understand what she means. Her skin is glowing under the moonlight, hair loose and tousled as it fell into gentle waves over her shoulder. “Floating?”

You think she’s beautiful.

“It’s like,” she pauses, searching for the right words. “Like you’re living, but not really living. Just…existing for the sake of it. Going through the same routine because that’s what’s expected of you.”

You don’t need to think long before answering. “Sometimes, I do. I think that’s what happens when you stop feeling connected to the things that you love.”

She shifts slightly in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “I used to love my job. Like I could become someone else and leave everything behind for a while. But now, now it feels like I’m just acting all the time. I barely know who I am.”

She’s opening up more tonight, more than she ever has. There’s something about the way she talks that makes you want to listen harder, to dig beneath the surface and understand what’s really troubling her.

“You feel like you’re stuck playing a role,” you suggest gently, watching her as she nods slowly.

“Exactly. Even when I’m not on set, I’m still Jennie Kim, the celebrity. Sometimes, I don’t want to be her. Sometimes, I just want to be…me. Whoever that is.”

You know what she means. In your own way, you’ve felt the same; lost in a sea of expectations, trying to live up to an image of yourself that you’re not even sure is real anymore.

“I think a lot of people feel that way,” you say gently. “Like they’re wearing a mask for the world, and it’s too hard to take it off.”

She lets out a quiet sigh, leaning her head back against the chair. “It gets exhausting, you know? Having to pretend all the time.“

There’s a tinge of sadness in her voice that makes your heart ache. You’ve always seen Jennie as the kind of person who has it all — fame, fortune, adoration from millions of people. But hearing her talk like this, you realise even those things can’t shield someone from the loneliness that comes with them.

“Why don’t you?”

She smiles, but it’s a tired smile. “I wish I could. Perhaps, one day.”

“Perhaps.”

The weight of her words settles over the two of you like a blanket, heavy and suffocating. You wish you could say something to make it better, but you know there’s no easy answer to what Jennie’s going through. She’s trapped in a world that demands everything from her, and there’s no simple way out.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say after a long silence, the words feeling inadequate.

She shakes her head, a soft smile on her face. “It’s not your fault.”

You sit together for a while longer, the night air cool against your skin. For the first time in a long while, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence with words.

Her presence is enough, and you hope, in some small way, that yours is enough for her too.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s a rare afternoon off for you, and you find yourself being dragged by Irene to a cozy outdoor café with Rosé, another pop star you had met through Irene sometime ago. The three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm over lunch, laughing and talking over plates of food that Irene ordered for the table, always with a flair of overconsumption.

“Okay, but seriously, who designed those shoes for that premiere?” Irene says, her voice full of exaggerated exasperation. She’s waving a fork in the air as she continues. “I mean, did they hate me? I almost broke an ankle just walking down the red carpet.”

Rosé chuckles, sipping her champagne, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re lucky it didn’t turn into a meme,” she teases.

Irene gasps, pressing a hand to her chest in horror. “I could not imagine becoming a meme.”

You laugh at her, shaking your head as you poke your salad. “Oh no, what would happen?”

Rosé smiles at you, leaning in slightly. “So, Y/N, how’s work been? Have you finished that chapter you were talking about last time?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. “Still working on it. Just haven’t been sleeping lately.”

Irene smirks. “Oh, I bet I know why.”

Already knowing what was coming, you raise an eyebrow. “Irene, don’t even —“

“Jennie Kim,” she announces, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And, might I add, she’s been asking about you again.”

Rosé’s eyes widens slightly, a curious smile playing on her lips as she glances between you and the producer. “Wait, Jennie? As in Jennie Jennie?”

You huff, sinking lower into your chair. “Yes, that Jennie. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

Rosé tilts her head, clearly intrigued. “What’s there to think about? Jennie doesn’t usually talk about people unless they’re special.”

You shoot a glare at Irene, who’s beaming like she’d just uncovered the juiciest gossip in town. “Yeah, thanks for that. Jennie and I are just friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Irene says, clearly enjoying herself as she spears a piece of steak with her fork. “Friends that like hang out almost every night.”

Rosé giggles, leaning in closer. “Okay, now I have to know. Spill the details. What’s going on with you and her?”

You heave out a sigh, knowing there is no way you are getting out of this. “We met on the rooftop a while back during one of Irene’s parties. Since then, we’ve just been meeting up there. Talking, you know…late night conversations when her and I can’t sleep.”

“And she’s been asking about you,” Irene adds with a pointed look. “A lot.”

“Irene!”

Rosé laughs, covering her mouth. “Honestly, I’ve noticed Jennie’s been in a better mood lately. Like, even during backstage events, she seems lighter. Happier. I wonder if that has anything to do with you.”

You’re taken aback by Rosé’s observation. Jennie did seem happier lately, more relaxed, even when the weight of fame pressed down on her. But you never considered that your late night talks might have had anything to do with it.

“I don’t know about that,” you say, feeling a bit flustered. “We’re just talking. That’s all.”

Irene and Rosé exchanged amused glances, clearly not buying your attempts at downplaying it.

“Whatever you say,” Irene responds, smirking. “But I think it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that Jennie likes you. And, if you ask me, you should stop overthinking and just go for it.”

Rosé nods in agreement, her smile warm and inviting. “She’s a good person, Y/N. If she’s happier because of you, that says something.”

“She’s not going to hurt you,” Irene interjects with a lighter tone. “Please don’t hurt her too - she’s a lonely soul, that one. You both are, so I’m glad you found each other.”

You shift in your seat, feeling the weight of their words. Part of you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you had a bigger impact on Jennie than you realised.

But another part of you is still scared of what could happen if you got too close, if you let yourself fall for her. After all, love hadn’t been kind to you; so you closed your door on it.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, giving them a small smile. You roll your eyes as Irene and Rosé clinked their glasses; perhaps they were right. Maybe it’s time to stop overthinking and start letting things happen.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The nights blur together in a series of quiet conversations and shared solitude. You find yourself growing more comfortable around Jennie, and she around you. The walls between you have come down, and though you don’t say it aloud, you’ve both come to rely on these nights together.

It’s strange. You’ve never had a friendship like this, one that exists solely in the darkness, in the quiet of the night, away from the prying eyes of the world. By day, you’re still the same sleepless writer, struggling to meet deadlines, battling the constant feeling that you’re not good enough. But at night, up here with her, you feel a little more at peace. Even if sleep still eludes you, there’s just something comforting about your moments together.

One particularly clear night, she asks a question that catches you off guard.

“Why do you stay up here so late? Don’t you ever sleep?”

You laugh. “I wish. I don’t really sleep much these days. I don’t wanna rely on my tablets so much.”

Jennie frowns, a shade of concern in her eyes. “Insomnia?”

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “It’s been getting worse lately. I’ll lie in bed for hours, but my mind just won’t shut off. It’s like there’s too much going on in my head, and no matter what I do, I can’t get it to quiet down.”

Jennie watches you for a moment, her expression gentler. “That sounds awful.”

“It is,” you say, your gaze drifting back to the skyline. “It’s been making everything harder. I can’t focus during the day, and my writing’s been…so terrible, honestly. I’m barely functional most mornings.”

The words spill out before you can stop them, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve said too much, but she doesn’t judge you.

She just listens.

“I wish I could help.”

“You already do,” you reply, surprised by your own honesty. “These nights…talking with you, it helps. I don’t feel so alone.”

Jennie grins, and for the first time, it feels genuine, unburdened by the weight she usually carries. “I’m glad.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Time passes and the nights stretch on, and something between you begins to shift as you look back on your conversation with Irene and Rosé.

It’s subtle at first; small moments, fleeting glances, a brush of your hands as you pass each other by the railing. You don’t talk about it, but it’s there, lingering in the air between you like a secret neither of you is quite ready to admit.

One night, you find yourself standing closer to Jennie than usual, your arms almost touching as you both lean on the railing, looking out at the city below. The moon is particularly bright tonight, casting a soft glow over the rooftop, and the stars seem to be watching you, waiting.

You hadn’t seen her in weeks, and she greets you with boxes of pizza and a bottle of wine in her hand, telling you how much she hates fashion week.

“Have you ever wondered…” her tone is careful, almost hesitant as she pauses. “Have you ever wondered if we were meant to meet? Like, maybe we were supposed to find each other up here.”

You glance at her to find her looking at the city in front of you, studying the way her features soften in the moonlight, her dark eyes reflecting the glow of the city. There’s something vulnerable about her in this moment, something that makes your heart ache in a way you’re not ready to face.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “But I’m glad we did.”

“I missed you,” she admits. “Did you miss me?”

“I did, it feels lonely without you here now.”

Her gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The noise of the city fades into the background, and all you can hear is the steady beat of your own heart. There’s something electric in the air, something that pulls you closer to her, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

Your lips meet hers in a soft, hesitant kiss, and for a brief moment, everything falls away. The doubts, the fears, the sleepless nights; it all fades, leaving only the warmth of Jennie’s touch and the gentle press of her lips against yours.

But then reality crashes back in, and you pull away, your heart racing. “I can’t,” you whisper, stepping back. “I’m sorry, Jennie. I just…I can’t.”

She looks at you, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. She nods slowly, her voice barely audible. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You want to say more, to explain why can’t let it happen, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you turn and leave the rooftop, the weight of what just happened pressing down on you like a heavy blanket.

After that night, everything changes.

Jennie stops coming to the rooftop, and though you try to tell yourself it’s for the best, a part of you misses her. You miss the quiet conversations, the way she made you feel understood in a way no one else ever has, but you know you can’t let yourself get attached.

You can’t risk hurting her, or yourself. The walls you built took years to stabilise, you can’t let someone else in again.

Days turn into weeks, and you start seeing Jennie everywhere, but only from a distance. You catch glimpses of her in magazine articles, on TV interviews, on red carpets. She’s back in the spotlight, drowning herself in her work, and you watch from the sidelines as she slips further and further away.

You tell yourself it’s better this way, but the truth is, it hurts. You’ve grown to care for Jennie in a way you didn’t expect, and now that she’s gone, the rooftop feels emptier than ever.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’re sitting at your desk one afternoon, trying to concentrate on writing but finding it nearly impossible. The words on the screen blur together as your mind drifts back to her — like it always seems to do lately. The nights without her have been long and restless, and no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, you can’t stop thinking about her.

And it certainly doesn’t help that you’ve been avoiding Irene and everyone that could possibly be in Jennie’s circle.

“Hey, are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” Lisa’s voice pulls you back to reality. You nod, turning towards her.

Lisa, your best friend and old roommate, has been talking for the past ten minutes about some new reality show she’s obsessed with. She’s sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, glancing back at your laptop. “Something about hot contestants and drama, right?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, eyes narrowing. “Sure, that’s exactly it.”

“What’s up with that look?”

“You’ve been so weird lately, zoning out and acting mysterious. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you say a little too quickly. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Work, deadlines, you know how it is.”

“Hmm,” Lisa hums, clearly not convinced. She stretches her arms and yawns before tossing her phone onto the couch and standing up. “Well, whatever it is, you need a break. You’ve been glued to that laptop for hours. I’m making coffee. Want some?”

You nod absentmindedly, barely listening as Lisa walks into the kitchen. You can hear your phone vibrating from your bedroom, but you don’t check it immediately. You assume it’s just another email from other editors or some work-related notification.

Instead, you scroll through your half-finished article, sighing at the lack of progress.

“Hey, do you mind if I grab your phone charger?” Lisa asks from the kitchen.

“Yeah, go ahead. It’s on the table by my bed,” you reply, not thinking twice.

She disappears into your room, and you return to your article. For a few blissful minutes, you actually manage to focus, typing out a few coherent sentences before her voice suddenly cuts through the silence.

“Oh my GOD.”

You flinch, nearly knocking over your water bottle in the process. Her voice has jumped several octaves, and it’s followed by a burst of nervous laughter. “What?!” you yell out, spinning around in your chair.

She comes charging back into the living room, your phone in her hand, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Uh, excuse me. Who’s texting you? Because I just saw a whole bunch of messages from someone named Jennie—” she holds up your phone “With a VERY familiar profile picture.”

You freeze, realizing immediately what your best friend has stumbled upon.

“Lisa —“

“Oh no, no, no,” she interjects, waving your phone around like it’s court case evidence. “Do not even try to tell me that Jennie is just some random friend. I recognise that face anywhere! Jennie Kim is messaging you?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Lisa, please, calm down. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think? I’m sorry to invade your privacy but you invaded mine for four years,” her eyes are practically bulging out of her head now, and she’s shrieking. She opens the messages, scrolling through them with increasing disbelief. “She’s asking how you are. She’s sending cute little ‘I miss you’ texts. I miss you? This is Jennie Kim! And you’re not responding?!”

You can’t help but chuckle at Lisa’s reaction, but your stomach twists with anxiety. “It’s complicated.”

“This is a Hollywood star sending you heart emojis, there’s nothing complicated about this except the fact that you haven’t told me!”

Before you can respond, the Thai woman glances at your phone again, her eyes widening as she scrolls even further. “Oh, hold up. Is this —” her hand flies to her mouth dramatically. “Is this a picture of you and Jennie?“

You visibly cringe. That was a picture Jennie had taken during one of your rooftop nights. It wasn’t anything too intimate, just the two of you sitting side by side, the city lights spread out behind you. Jennie had sent it to you as a reminder of the night, and at the time, it felt special, something just for you both to remember.

“How are you so calm right now? Do you realize what this means? You’ve been hanging out with Jennie Kim, and you never told me?” Lisa’s voice rises again as she shakes her head in disbelief.

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Look, it’s not exactly something I could just bring up over dinner, okay? ‘Hey, by the way, I’ve been spending nights on the rooftop with one of the most famous celebrities in the world. How’s your day?’”

She stares at you for a moment, her mouth still open, before she bursts out laughing. “Honestly, yeah, that would have been exactly the way to bring it up!”

You can’t help but laugh with her, though the tension in your chest doesn’t completely disappear. She flops onto the couch, still holding your phone, her eyes wide with amazement as she stares at the messages again.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says slowly. “You and Jennie Kim, Hollywood superstar, what? Friends? Dating? In some weird rooftop-based relationship that I clearly need all the details about?”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. “I don’t know. We spent nights talking, and yeah, we got close. But then things got complicated, and I -“ you stop yourself, the memories of pulling away from Jennie still fresh in your mind. “I don’t know what we are. I think I fumbled her.”

Lisa purses her lips, clearly sensing the conflict in your voice. “So, let me get this straight. She’s sending you these sweet, thoughtful texts, you two have clearly shared something important, and your reaction is to not respond?”

You wince. “It’s not that simple.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s complicated,” you repeat, your voice quieting.

She sits up, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine, fine. I get it. It’s complicated. But,” she leans in, her voice turning more serious, “do you care about her?”

You hesitate, the answer lodged somewhere deep inside you, tangled up with fear and uncertainty. “Yeah,” you finally say. “I really do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Lisa says, her tone both exasperated and gentle. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. If you care about her, let her know.“

You sit in silence for a moment, processing her words because she’s somehow right.

Jennie has been reaching out to you, and you’ve been too scared to respond. Too scared of getting hurt, of what it might mean if you let yourself care this much.

Lisa, seeing the wheels turning in your head, grins and tosses your phone back to you. “I’m just saying, if you don’t respond to those messages, I will. And trust me, you don’t want me getting involved.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Yeah, no, I definitely don’t.”

“Okay, now, coffee and reply to her,” she demands as she heads back to the kitchen, you look down at your phone. Jennie’s messages are still there, waiting for a reply.

You open the chat, your fingers hovering over the screen, but you decide against it and put your phone back into your pocket.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Months have passed since you’d last seen Jennie on the rooftop. The silence between you is like a dull ache, made worse by the guilt you’ve been carrying for leaving her hanging without explanation. Even though she had reached out, sending you texts in the weeks following that night, you never replied.

And now, she stopped messaging altogether.

At first, you convinced yourself it was for the best. You told yourself that someone like Jennie didn’t need the confusion and the mess that came with you. She was too bright, too big for your small world.

It was better this way, right?

That’s what you kept telling yourself, until you saw the photos.

One night, you’re scrolling through social media, trying to keep your mind occupied. That’s when you saw it: Jennie with Kai. Hands intertwined, walking together like the perfect Hollywood couple.

The caption under the photo read: Hollywood’s newest power couple: Jennie Kim and Kai spotted together again.

Your heart sinks as you stare at the image. There is something about seeing her with someone else, someone who fit into her world so seamlessly, that makes your breath catch in your throat. The rational part of you knew this was inevitable. You’d pushed her away, and she moved on. She has every right to.

That doesn’t stop it from hurting.

For the next few days, you read more headlines about Jennie and Kai. Every time you opened your phone, there was a new photo, a new article speculating about their relationship. The more you saw, the more the hurt settled deep into your chest. You couldn’t bear it anymore.

So, you made a decision.

When the ache became too much, you, went straight to Jennie’s contact, and deleted it. Then you went further: blocking her number, unfollowing her on every social media platform and erasing every trace of her from your life.

It feels like the only way to move on.

Days pass, and even though Jennie’s name no longer appears in your phone, the ghost of her lingers. You throw yourself into work everyday, trying to bury the feelings under deadlines and distractions. Lisa, who had been pestering you about texting Jennie back, eventually gave up, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation when you refused to talk about it anymore.

“You’re going to regret this,” Lisa warns before leaving your apartment one night, shaking her head. “You can’t just block someone out of your life like that.”

But you did. And now you’re left with the quiet, empty space that Jennie used to fill.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s not until a few days later, when Irene and Rosé show up unannounced at your apartment, that you realise things are far from over.

You’re typing away at your desk, again trying (and failing) to focus on the article you should have finished five hours ago, when there’s a loud knock at your door. Before you can even get up to answer, the door swings open, and in walks Irene and Rosé, looking far too determined and scary for your liking.

“Uh, hey?” you greet awkwardly, completely thrown off by their sudden arrival. “Is there a reason you two are barging into my apartment?”

Irene doesn’t waste any time. She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe, giving you a knowing look. “We need to talk.”

Rosé steps forward, her expression much softer but equally serious. “Yeah, we’ve been worried about you.”

You frown. “Worried about me? I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Irene is sarcastic, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing great, which is why you’ve completely ghosted Jennie and blocked her on everything.”

Your stomach drops, but you try to play it off. “How do you even -“

“We’re her friends, Y/N,” Rosé cuts you off gently, sitting down on the edge of your couch. “We know. And we’ve noticed that she hasn’t been the same since -“

“Since you decided to disappear on her,” Irene finishes bluntly, cutting straight to the point. “I mean, come on. Jennie literally never shuts up about you. She hasn’t been herself, even with Kai in the picture.”

At the mention of Kai, you feel your chest tighten, the hurt bubbling back up. “I saw the photos. Jennie and Kai…they look happy. I figured she moved on. It’s for the best.”

Irene heaves out a dramatic groan, throwing her head back. “Oh my God, Y/N, that’s exactly what’s wrong. She’s not happy with Kai. It’s all for PR. She’s been miserable ever since you stopped talking to her.”

You blink, stunned by her words. “What?”

Rosé sighs this time, her eyes full of sympathy. “She’s been going through the motions, but it’s obvious she’s hurting. We can see it, even if no one else can. Jennie’s been quieter, more closed off. And trust me, it’s not because of Kai.”

“She’s still hung up on you,” Irene adds, her tone softening just a little. “She might be out there with Kai for appearances, but she’s not happy, Y/N, she seems worst than before.”

You feel the weight of their words press down on you. You didn’t think about how much your silence had hurt Jennie. You’d convinced yourself that stepping back was the right thing to do, that she was better off without you in her life.

“I just,” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I thought she’d moved on. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“Well, congrats, you’re officially not in the way,” Irene laughs dryly. “And now she’s miserable, and you’re miserable. Great job, everyone!”

Rosé shoots her a look before turning back to you. “Y/N, you need to talk to her. She’s not okay, and I don’t think you are either.”

Looking down at your hands, your mind starts racing. You had blocked Jennie, thinking it was the only way to protect yourself and her from more hurt. But now, being cornered by Irene and Rosé, you figure that all you had done was push her away without giving either of you a chance to figure out what this really was.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper, the guilt settling deep in your chest.

Irene sighs deeply, sitting down beside Rosé on the couch. “Look, you don’t need some grand speech. Just be honest. Talk to her.”

Rosé nods in agreement. “Yeah. She misses you, Y/N. And I think you miss her too.”

You feel a lump form in your throat as their words start to sink in. They’re right - you do miss Jennie. More than you have been willing to admit. Taking a deep breath, you nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll talk to her.”

“Good luck, Y/N. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The rooftop has always been your sanctuary, the one place where you can feel the world slowing down, but ever since you distanced yourself from Jennie, you couldn’t bring yourself to come back.

Tonight, something is different. There is an undeniable pull guiding you back to the place that had once brought you peace. After Irene and Rosé cornered you in your apartment, you’d been thinking about Jennie more than ever. Maybe, after all this time, it was finally time to confront your feelings and reach out to her.

As you step out onto the rooftop, the familiar chill of the night air brushes against your skin. You let out a deep breath, expecting to find the space empty like it had been for the last few weeks. But instead, you’re frozen in your tracks.

Jennie is already there.

Sitting on one of the lounge chairs, staring out at the city lights, her silhouette framed by the silver glow of the moon. For a moment, you stand there, unsure if you should stay or leave, but then Jennie turns, her eyes locking onto yours.

There is a flicker of emotions on her face; hurt, confusion and maybe even relief.

“You’re here,” she begins softly, her voice carrying through the quiet night.

You swallow hard, taking a hesitant step forward. “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

She stands up slowly, her eyes never leaving yours. There is a heaviness in her expression, one you recognise all too well. “Why did you block me?” she asks, her voice strained with emotion. “Why are you pushing me out of your life, Y/N?”

The words hit you harder than you expect. You’d prepared yourself for this moment, but now that it’s here, she’s here, the guilt weighs on your chest like stones.

You take another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Jennie —”

“I thought we had something,” she stops you, her voice rising ever so slightly. “I thought we shared the same feelings. But then you just…disappeared. Did I make you feel sick?”

You can hear the hurt in her voice, and it cuts through you like a knife. You look down, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jennie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just, I didn’t know what to do.”

She shakes her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You could have talked to me. You could have told me what you were feeling instead of just shutting me out.”

There’s a long silence as you stand there, feeling the weight of everything you had kept bottled up inside for so long. You know you owe her an explanation; an honest one this time.

“I thought you were better off without me,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you with Kai, and he fits into your world. He’s everything you need. He understands the pressure you’re under, and he can handle it. I don’t belong in your world, Jennie.”

She blinks, clearly taken aback. “Kai? Y/N, Kai was just…he was never anything serious. He doesn’t make me feel the way you do. It was my job.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the pain of the past few weeks bubbling up inside you. “But he fits. He’s a part of that life, your life. I don’t. I don’t know how to navigate your world. I’m scared of falling for you because I’ve been hurt before. Really badly. And I don’t think I can handle it if I get hurt again.”

Her expression softens, the hurt in her eyes replaced by something else, something warmer.

She took a step closer, her voice gentle but firm. “You think you’re not good enough for me? Y/N, you’re the only person I’ve ever felt like I could be myself around. The only person who makes me feel like I don’t have to be Jennie Kim. With you, I can just be Jennie.”

The vulnerability in her voice, the raw emotion, it’s all there laid out in front of you.

“I pushed you away because I didn’t feel like I deserved you,” you confess, your voice trembling. “After my last relationship, I’ve had this constant anxiety. My insomnia, everything, it’s all because I’ve been scared to let anyone in. I didn’t want to fall in love again, not after the heartbreak I went through. And with you…it feels so much bigger, so much scarier.”

She steps even closer, her eyes searching yours. ���I understand,” she whispers. “I’ve been scared too. But I’m not scared of you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stops at her confession. The world around you falls away as her words hangs in the air, weightless but powerful. “You’re in love with me?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving yours. “Yes. I’m in love with you, and I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but you shut me out. I genuinely believe that I was made for you, Y/N.”

The tears you’ve been holding back finally break free, and before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pulling Jennie into a tight embrace. She wraps her arms around you, holding you just as tightly, and in that moment, all the fear and anxiety you’ve been carrying melt away.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble into her shoulder, your voice cracking with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll look after you.”

Her words soothe the ache that has been sitting in your heart for so long; creating a home for itself. You lean in, pressing your forehead against hers, wrapped in each other’s arms.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you feel a sense of peace. The weight you have been carrying on your shoulders begins to lift, and you know, finally, that it’s okay to let yourself fall.

“I love you too,” your voice is shaky but certain. “I’m in love with you, Jennie.”

She smiles through her tears, her eyes bright with joy. She cups your face in her hands and leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

When you pull away, she rests her head against your chest, her arms still wrapped around you. The night air is cool, but the warmth of her body against yours is keeping you grounded.

“I’m here,” she says once more, her voice barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 YOU'VE BEGUN TO FEEL LIKE HOME

FEATURING: pm!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai is not as slick as he thinks he is, and you let him get away with way too much. OR, dazai realizes the only place he feels comfortable enough to sleep is at your side, but god forbid he vocalizes that.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'm on another pm!reader & dazai kick LOL, prepare for an influx of fics about them. i'm starting with this one because it's softer, the classic sharing a bed fic & u guys deserve some lightness after uu6 (warnings: fem!reader, nothing else really, this is light-hearted as promised)

Dazai doesn’t think you notice when he sneaks into your room at night.

To be fair, you don’t think you noticed the first few times. He’s very careful to make sure you’re still sleeping when he lets the door crack open so he can slip in. He shifts the blinds around just enough so that when he lays down and the sun starts to rise, it’ll hit him right in the eye, waking him up before you, so he can slip out unnoticed.

But he messed up two weeks ago. Or, well, it wasn’t really his fault. The hinges of your door creaked just a bit too loudly when he pushed it open, stirring you from your sleep, but he was evidently too tired to even notice. Your first reaction was obviously to tell him to get the fuck out, irate that he’d woken you up, but you found yourself hesitating as he began his swift and efficient process of setting up your room so he can lay there with you to get some rest and disappear before you wake up. 

He slept above the covers on the edge of the bed, careful to keep space between the two of you—whether it was because he didn’t want to risk waking you up, or if he just didn’t want to touch you, you didn’t know, but you think it’s the former from the way you’ve noticed his body unconsciously trying to seek you out at night, only for him to startle awake and immediately move away.

You told yourself that you would address it the next morning—ask him what the fuck he was thinking sneaking into your bedroom—but you faltered when you saw how refreshed he was in the morning, bouncing around your apartment, the perpetual bags beneath his eyes mostly faded. You put together then how long he’s been doing this: three weeks, at least. You’d been wondering why he was suddenly so energetic some days, but it was easy to figure out that those days are the ones that he slips into your room to sleep.

You’d known for a while that Dazai doesn’t sleep well. Spends most nights wandering around your apartment looking for things to do if he doesn’t have missions; he only ever does sleep when he’s so drunk that he ends up passing out on your kitchen floor or he’s so tired that he physically can’t keep his eyes open any longer. You’d always wondered if it was because he can’t sleep or if it was because he doesn’t want to sleep, plagued with nightmares, memories whenever he closes his eyes.

So you let it continue—it doesn’t really bother you, he’s always careful to not disturb you and you figure that it’s better he gets at least some decent sleep so he doesn’t get himself killed on a mission because he’s depriving himself of it.

It’s not until a few weeks later that he realizes that you know. You’re half asleep when he tries to sneak into your room, barely conscious; you don’t remember to pretend to be asleep.

The door creaks open and shuts and you instinctively roll over, shifting up onto your elbows and squinting, eyes focusing on Dazai’s figure shrouded by the darkness, halfway across your room to your window. He freezes as soon as he realizes you’re awake. 

“Dazai?” you ask quietly, voice a bit rough with sleep, mind moving a bit slow as you try to piece together what’s going on..

“I-” he starts to say—for a second, he’s caught off guard, fumbling for some sort of excuse. But Dazai is Dazai, so he recovers quickly. “Oh good, you’re awake. You see, I was trying to-”

“Shut up,” you murmur, laying back down and pulling the covers back, realizing what he’s here for. “Lay down.” 

Dazai doesn’t budge. “What?” he breathes out, caught off-guard and clearly exhausted. You can see the dark bags beneath his eyes—he’s been on a mission for four or five days now, dealing with Mishima out in Tokyo. You figure that he hasn’t gotten any sleep since he left. “What are you talking about?” 

His voice takes a cooler tone after the initial ‘what’, a defense mechanism, and you know Dazai is about to bolt to try to avoid this conversation, but it’s been weeks and you think it's about time. You crack an eye open to scowl at him, noticing the closed off expression on his face and the anxiety thinly veiled behind his dark eye. Before he can make a run for it, you push yourself up. You’re quick and Dazai is exhausted, so it’s easy for you to scramble forward and grab his wrist, wrangling him onto the bed with you.

Dazai kicks and flails, you scowl at him when he messes up your duvet and he bares his teeth at you like a wild animal. You tumble on the mattress with him for a few seconds, he bucks you off of him and nearly onto the ground, you spit a few curses at him—wide awake now—and grab his wrists, pinning them above his head and pressing your knee into his lower back. If Dazai wasn’t half asleep, he’d probably have been able to come out on top but you can feel how tired he is with how sluggish his limbs move and how heavy they are whenever one of them lay on you, as if he can barely hold himself up. 

“What’s your issue?” you demand, biting back a yawn as you glare down at him.

Dazai twists his head to the side, looking at you from the corner of his eye with an indignant expression. “My issue?” he spits out. “You just manhandled me onto your bed. Let go of me.”

“You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a month, Dazai.”

Dazai stills and you watch as his cheeks instantly flame up. His eye is wide as he stares at you from the corner of it. You’d almost think he’s cute if he wasn’t Dazai.

“I have not.”

He lies. He lies. He lies as if you haven’t literally caught him in the act. You stare at him aghast, you thought maybe he’d try to wiggle his way out of it with a ‘no, you’ve misunderstood,’ not a straight up lie. 

“You liar,” you accuse, voice pitched in disbelief. “You just lied right to my face.”

“No, I didn’t.” 

Dazai lies again; his face is even more red now, and you think that’s to show just how exhausted he is because Dazai usually wears countless masks to hide himself from everyone. You think you strip him of one, and there are two more there protecting him—like a goddamn hydra, cut off one head and two more grow back. 

But it seems like catching him in the act tonight, while he’s already tired and half-dead on his feet, was the equivalent of burning the heads of the hydra. His masks are gone and he’s left embarrassed and fumbling. You almost want to laugh, but you’re so incensed by the sheer audacity he has to blatantly lie to your face that you can’t even bring yourself to. 

“You just did it again.”

“I did not.”

“Dazai,” you say exasperated, shifting a bit and he lets out an irritated grunt, tossing you an outraged look as you accidently dig your knee even more into his back. “Stop fucking around. You’ve been coming into my room at night every three days for at least a month.”

Dazai looks mortified.

“You’ve known for a month,” he demands. He wiggles like a worm trying to free himself from your grasp but you double down, pressing your weight down on his back. “You’ve known for a month, and you never said anything. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’ve known for two and a half weeks,” you correct, “but I figured it was a month or more based on when I started noticing your…mood improvements.”

A gentle way of putting that he doesn’t look like he wants to murder anyone that looks in his direction at any given moment, but Dazai obviously understands what you’re getting at and looks even more humiliated.

You almost feel bad.

Almost.

“It’s not-” Dazai starts to say. He stutters. He stutters. A part of you wishes that you could record this, knowing you’ll never get the chance to see Dazai so caught off guard like this probably ever again. “I don’t-”

“I don’t care, Dazai,” you sigh tiredly. “I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me. Just stop fucking being a creep about it, Christ.”

“No,” Dazai says, voice raised in pitch and petulant as he turns his face to press it down into your pillow. His words are muffled as he continues, “No. No. It’s ruined now. You’ve ruined it.”

Your eyes slide shut, you sigh. You’re suddenly tired again, you decidedly don’t want to deal with Dazai Osamu’s fickle and capricious nature. Because of that, you let go of him. You shake your head as you move off of him, sitting back down in bed and giving him a chance to flee, like he wanted to begin with.

Dazai does not budge.

At all. 

You stare at him in disbelief. 

Did he fall asleep?

You poke the side of his head and Dazai doesn’t let out a noise of complaint or shift even a centimeter, his shoulders rise and fall slowly and you turn your gaze up to the ceiling, praying for patience.

“You can’t sleep like that,” you say more to yourself than him. “You’re gonna suffocate yourself, you loser.”

You try to push him onto his side, but he startles awake as if he’d only just barely started dozing off. You watch as he jolts, sluggish limbs trying to push himself up, blinking blearily. You think he looks even more mortified when he realizes that as soon as he rested his head down, he immediately started drifting off.

“Dazai, you’re exhausted. Sleep,” you say, amusement dwindling as your brows furrow in concern. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so off-kilter before.

Has he really not slept since he left?

“No,” Dazai says, and even though the exhaustion is clear in his voice, he’s stubborn and trying to push himself up. “I can’t sleep because you had to go ahead and ruin it.”

“I didn’t ruin anything, Dazai,” you say, becoming increasingly more irritated as you lose out on more sleep. You have a meeting with Mori in the morning and you don’t want to head into it half-asleep. “You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a-”

“Stop saying that,” Dazai complains, covering his face with his hands as he sits at the edge of your bed, back turned to you. “It’s not-you’re just selfish.”

You gape. “Excuse me?” you say, even more appalled at this outlandish insult than you were over him lying to your face.

“You’re selfish. You keep the soft blankets and the nice mattress all to yourself. You’re selfish, you leave me with the scraps and then call me a creep for wanting a decent night of sleep,” Dazai says, voice a sulky hiss.

You stare at him—you don’t respond, just stare at the back of his head, willing yourself not to get violent, because there is no way that the boy who has moved himself into your apartment, leeches off your food, shampoos, soaps, and conditioners, has made a home on your couch and in your guest bedroom, who sneaks into your bed without even a small complaint from you, has the nerve to call you selfish.

As if Dazai can feel the rapidly approaching violence coming from you, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, visible eye wide and deceptively sad, head tilted to the side at a demure angle that you know he uses to get what he wants from whatever fool falls for the shitty act. You think he has some nerve trying to use it on you as if you won’t see right through it.

“It’s not fair,” he says. His voice is soft and sweet now, honeyed but you can all but taste the venom of the manipulation in the sweetness. “I just want to sleep too. It’s not fair you get all of the comfortable stuff. You’re making me seem like a creep, but I just want to sleep, and now everything is ruined.”

Therein lies the issue: the mattresses in your bedroom and the guest bedroom are in fact the same, and the sheets are the same brand and style but in different colors. The comfort of the bedroom is not the issue here. So, you choose to play his game.

“Fine,” you agree lightly. “You can take my bedroom. I’ll move into the guest bedroom. Nothing will be ruined anymore. Problem solved.”

“No.”

The sweet expression on his face drops, his gaze sharpens as he stares at you from the corner of his eye. You can barely refrain from rolling your eyes.

“No?” 

“No.”

“And why not, exactly?” you ask tightly, the thin smile on your lips strained.

“You’re not allowed in my room,” Dazai says matter-of-factly.

Oh my god, you think to yourself, feeling a headache coming on, the fucking audacity of this boy.

“That is my guest room,” you say slowly. “If I want to go in there-”

“It’s been mine for over a year. It’s mine, and you’re not allowed in, so you have to stay here,” Dazai corrects firmly. “Therefore, everything is still ruined.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.”

“Why, Dazai?” you ask, becoming frustrated quickly. “What is your fucking issue? Jesus, I’m tired, I-”

“I can’t sleep! I can’t sleep unless you’re yhere and now it’s ruined because you weren’t supposed to know,” Dazai says so suddenly and so loudly that it startles you, and then he looks distressed as if he didn’t mean to say that. “I can’t-I don’t know why-it just happened-I don’t-”

Dazai cuts himself off with a sharp breath when he realizes he can't even talk his way out of the situation, only fumbling over an explanation and making things worse for himself. If he looked embarrassed before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now. His visible eye looks glassy, expression twisted and uneasy. His exhaustion has loosened his tongue too much and now he looks like he wants to rid himself of it entirely. His fingers are curled into fists so tightly that you think his uneven nails must be drawing blood from his palms.

At once, all of the fight left in you disappears.

“I’m going,” Dazai says more to himself than you. “I’m going. I’m just going to go. It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”

You don’t know if by go he means go to ‘his’ room or if he means leave your apartment and hide away in his shipping container for days like he usually does when he’s upset about something. Either way, Dazai is close to dead on his feet—you can see it in the way he sways as he tries to push himself up and you can see it in the way his visible eye droops down, hardly able to hold it open. You don’t think he’d make it to the hall without his legs giving out on him, much less to his shipping container halfway across the city—he’d be easy pickings for the numerous enemies he’s made waiting for a chance like this to finally take him out.

You sigh and before he can get half a step away, you snatch his wrist and tug him right back down into the bed. He shoots you an affronted look.

“Stop manhandling me,” he complains again. “You’re turning into a brute like Chuuya.”

“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, “and lay down. How is going somewhere else going to solve your sleeping problems? I don’t know how you’re somehow both the dumbest and smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Dazai curls in on himself a bit, and you frown because he’d usually preen and tease you about the compliment, but he only looks unsure now. “It’s ruined-”

“Lay down,” you say, firmer this time, watching as Dazai’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he averts his attention to the ceiling. He lays down awkwardly, head resting on your pillow; he turns on his side so that his back is to you. He makes no move to pull the covers over him. 

You let yourself roll your eyes now that he’s not looking at you, reaching down to pull the covers over both of you. You hesitate for a second, but then you choose to shift closer to him, resting your head down on the pillow as you wrap your arm loosely around his waist. He stiffens instantly, and you give it a second to see if he relaxes. When he doesn’t, you start to push yourself back away from him but before you can, he grabs your wrist to hold you in place, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he relaxes back against you.

“Nothing is ruined,” you murmur, eyes sliding shut now that you can finally rest. “I told you, I don’t care. Just sleep, Dazai. You need it.”

“... Only for tonight, one last time,” he yawns, unconsciously shifting back closer to you. It’s another blatant lie, but this one only makes you smile fondly.

“Sure,” you agree. “Only for tonight.”

When you wake up in the morning, Dazai is tucked right into your side. You’d shifted at some point during the night to lay onto your back and he’d curled right into you, resting his head on your shoulder and slinging an arm around your waist. Your gaze flickers to the clock on your nightstand and you let out a soft breath when you see that you have thirty minutes before you have to be at the main headquarters for your meeting with Mori but…

Your mouth dries when you glance down at Dazai. His bandaged eye is pressed into your body, but you can see the way his visible one is slid shut, lashes brushing his cheek as he sleeps. His face is so smooth and relaxed, breaths deep and even, peaceful in a way that you never really see of Dazai Osamu. You hadn’t fully closed your blinds before falling asleep last night, and you find yourself entranced by the way Dazai looks underneath the early morning sun, breath hitching as he lets out a soft noise in the back of his throat before shifting closer to you.

Fuck.

You let out a puff of air, eyes sliding shut. There’s no way you’ll be able to slip out of bed without waking him up, and you find that you don’t want to wake him up. Dazai is an irritating little shit, and he makes your life as difficult as he possibly can, but you think you’d be cruel purposely disrupting the little bit of peace in his life that he can have.

(You also think that you never give a shit about cruelty unless Dazai Osamu is somehow involved and the recipient of it, but you instantly dispose of that thought.)

Decision made, you reach for your phone and quickly shoot a text to Mori:

Something came up. Meet later.

And you promptly shut your phone off before settling back in bed with Dazai, arm curling around his waist and head falling to the side so that you can bury your face in his soft brown hair. You notice, as you doze back off, that it smells suspiciously like the expensive vanilla shampoo that you specifically told him not to use, but you’re already too sleepy to make a fuss out of it. 

You’ll bitch about it later, you decide.

(If you can feel him smile against your shoulder as you fall back asleep with him, you ignore it.)

[n0tamused]

HSR/Genshin characters as dragons

A/n: I feel like this is a bit shorter than my usual dragon posts, I apologize for that. But I also have to say (for my sake at least) that these images of dragons aren't what my finished art looks like. At best I'd call them colored sketches, so please - if you're interested in my finished works, check out my instagram as I have way more concrete examples of my art! <3 Thank you. And if anyone is interested in a c0mission, you can feel free to check the carrd link in bio! They are still open!

Contents: Jing Yuan, Capitano and Aventurine as dragons, x reader, gn reader, tinge of angst, headcanons

Jing Yuan:

-Jing Yuan, although looking really fluffy and soft as he does, is a formidable warrior. He didn’t get to be a General for nothing at all

-His fur does hide a lot away and it does give him a rather gentle appearance, making him a bit easier to approach than your regular dragon. His species specifically wasn’t made for war but rather for more endurance and some more milder things, but Jing Yuan excels in all aspects of his kind and has proven himself worthy of his station during the wars and during more diplomatic events.

-It goes without saying, but this guy is cunning, he has his brains about himself and knows how to play an opponent where necessary, although he does prefer more honorable approaches and would never do anything purely “evil”

-Some wonder how he hasn’t turned brown from how much he loves to bask in the sun in his dragon form. And oftentimes it has happened when someone went to check on him and he was just knocked out in a nap coma, not laying in any shade, just all sun. If he was in his human form he would have been burnt to a crisp

-But there’s something about Jing Yuan’s dragon form that is rather comforting, to both you and honestly anyone else. Everyone knows stories of old kings and leaders of planets and countries that are described as these powerful and frightening individuals that hid their softness for special people in their hearts. Jing Yuan, although powerful, does not evoke fear in his people like those kings from the stories do. His presence does command respect, yes, but people can approach him and talk to him just fine, without any unwarranted fear that he’d reprimand them or punish them for saying anything he may dislike.

-He has a lot of patience with people in general, and all diplomatic meetings he attends go by smoothly

-Jing Yuan doesn’t shy from his dragon form at all, and at times he prefers it when the sun is not as strong, so he can soak up every single ray of sun he possibly can. He has quite the bit yard so he doesn’t lack space either

-Loves to see you cuddle him. Since he is quite big, he does tend to not move much if you decide to hop onto him while he’s sleeping and cuddle him, just in case you find yourself under his claws by some chance. He doesn’t want to crush you. Other times he is rather playful, gentle all throughout, as he picks you up or nudges you with his head. Once he smacked you with that big tail of his, and although it looks mad fluffy that thing does have weight to it alright.. you were knocked into the grass bro

-Older age has turned some of his coat a darker shade and some of those spots also came in later in his life. It is something he doesn’t mind, he is quite fond of his spots

-He lets you do his hair or help him with his armor in dragon form. There are always those small and annoying clasps that are bothersome to put on so he entrusts them to you

-Some of the armor does hide scars from his past battles, but so does his big thick mane. That’s also some of the reasons why people think he doesn’t do much fighting since he always looks so well put together and “clean”(no visible scars) both in human form and in dragon form

-He is also very clean btw, smells fresh. Chef kiss

Capitano:

-His name has only existed in rumors and legends for centuries, and he has long since become some sort of  ghost tale. Some believe this dragon exists, some don’t, some use the stories to scare their children with, others laugh about it..etc

-No one doubts Capitano, the strongest man alive, the first of the Fatui exists, but the question of his dragon form is another matter. Many don’t even believe those are one and the  same, due to the lack of all the proof that the two are correlated 

-Capitano has never admitted to anything either to anyone outside of this Fatui fold, and he never truly had the need to take the form of the ice beast. He is the strongest man in Teyvat, he can do everything in this form without causing too much of a ruckus, he doesn’t need a dragon to wreck more havoc and cause more of a scene yk

-Although in his battle against Mavuika… maybe they both let out their beastly forms yk and they just duked it out a bit until both sustained damage and that fog curtain was blown over them and they retreated

-In his dragon form he is quite cold to the touch, it’s almost like he doesn’t produce much heat at all, and although his breath sometimes smokes and fogs from his nostrils, his scales are never warm. 

-His scales are dense and thick, made for protection and endurance, but they do hinder some of his ability to be flexible

-Don’t be fooled though, although he isn’t the most flexible or speedy dragon around, he is a killer tank, a machine. His claws and teeth can pierce anything and everything, and that tail of his is also something to be wary off. Even if he has his back turned to you that tail seems to possess a mind of its own and lashes about to protect him if someone tries an attack from behind (side note: inspired by an iguanodon, specifically that big claw on his front legs)

-Ice powers of course, he can freeze the ground underneath him and summon ice projectiles, as if he wasn’t a battle beast already 

-This form is quite rare to see, and for a long, long time his darling didn’t even know about it until that battle with Mavuika that brought it out of him

-It was nothing to scoff at or turn your head from. You were worried for him when you heard he was injured, and to know he had pushed himself into his dragon form also speaks great volumes of the intensity of the battle itself

-He doesn’t see it as important even after you expressed your concerns and bafflement after having found out. He just sort of shrugs it off. No big deal 

-His wings look quite heavy, and they are, so he does require quite the run up to take to the skies

-In human form he does have some scales on him, so if you’re cuddled up to him at night you can feel them under your fingertips. Capitano is quite open to your touches, rather relaxed after being with you for so long and these days, your touches often lull him to sleep. He sleeps on his back and sleeps like a log. He usually has an arm around you and the scales on his chest and arms are free to be examined by you

-He is quite scarred, and Capitano is not opposed to telling you how he got which scar. His way of storytelling isn’t exactly rich, it’s straight to the point but not boring

-Sometimes he leaves his tail around when he goes back to his human form, but only if he knows no one will see him, except you. 

Aventurine:

-Although the smallest in the list today, and a smaller stature for his species in general, Aventurine’s strength lies in his head. Due to the rough past he preserved through with luck and cunning, he knows what the world is like and how it operates

-Most people base their judgment on visuals and vocal tones, so Aventurine has gained quite the rep for being flamboyant and extra. Just like he wears so many fancy layers and clothes in his human form, he adorns his dragon form in pretty pearls, gold, rings, scarves, fluff..etc. Everything to show this image of confidence and maybe a bit of cockiness and arrogance

-As the money goat of the IPC, he has to look the part too, no?

-As mentioned before, he knows what a lot of people look at and what they look for, and due to the smaller size of his dragon he is able to walk through most places in that form too, bringing more attention to himself and more opportunities too.

-Of course he has had his fair share of insults directed at him, both in human and dragon form, but he tries not to let it ever show. The dragon form does tend to ward off any truly malicious individuals though, and his status as a Stoneheart has granted him a fair share of protection as well. Not many would dare to strike a Stoneheart.

-By nature he is quite colorful, additionally Aventurine also takes great care and hygiene of his looks. I mean dude probably has his own perfume brand along some others, he smells good and does leave a lasting impression overall

-The only thing he wishes he could get rid of is that branding on his neck. It is there no matter what shape he takes and it is glaringly obvious to anyone that looks at him. He can hide his eyes, but he can’t hide the red letters on his neck that the feathers or his collar fail to cover up. Even after so many years after it happened, the feathers in that spot of his neck never grew back, the tissue being far too scarred to allow any new growth.

-It is the only thing he  could visibly react to when in the presence of someone else. He may huff and puff, try and jest about it before switching topics

-No matter how much he takes care of himself though, he’ll never be able to wash off the blood of his skin and feathers, the blood of his people that died while he survived, then the blood of the master that abused him and kept him chained up.

-His feathers may look glossy, clean, pristine, but if it were up to him, he’d pluck them all out

-In private, if you catch him before he reverts back to his human form, he tends to not let you touch him

-He makes some excuses, that his feathers are too oily, or that they don’t smell good, or that they’re too rough and this and that, and he just goes back to his human form before you can protest against it

-If you really insist he will agree on gifting you a couple of his feathers for keepsake, your pick too. You can use it as an accessory, or maybe house decor - sell it if you want to, he doesn’t mind what you do with it

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @moonlitreveri3 @lexidraws @drowning-in-cabbages @creationsabyss @grimulf-of-the-wilderness @st4rrl1ghtwastaken @the-inquisitive-constellation @voiddance @the-bilkush @fictionally-attached @cheese-enjoyer9471

[libraryofloveletters]

Gimme A Smooch

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: lover boy max, he's pretending to be annoyed but he loveessss the attention, reader nearly has a heart attack, jimmy and sassy cameo, cheesiness from max

Word Count: 669

Author's Note: everyone writes max so aggressive but he deserves a soft blurb because he's a lover boy.

--

He was never one to indulge in things like mistletoe but since he begun to date you, he didn’t have much of a choice. 

When the holidays rolled around, you tended to get a bit unhinged.

You went all out when it came to decorating and Max let you do your thing because the less he has to do, the better. If he was single, he would have hired someone to do it or just not do it all together.

He did suggest hiring someone and you looked at him as if you were ready to bite off his head. You ask if he's insane and tell him that you'd do it, no one else is going to decorate as long as you were there.

Max left you to do your thing, he had gone up to the Red Bull factory for the weekend, they were holding some sort of holiday party for their staff at the factory.

When he returns home, he barely gets to put his key into the lock before the door opens.

"You owe me a kiss." You tell him, hands on your hips.

Max's brows furrow, looking at you a bit confused. "Hello to you too, babe."

You point above him, Max's head tilts back and her looks up to see the bundle of mistletoe you've hung from the front door. He smiles, his arms snaking around your waist, giving you a kiss. You smiled, smoothing over his jacket, "welcome home."

Max gives you another quick kiss, walking into the house. He had left before you put anything up but now it was completely different; you had rearranged the furniture to make space for a massive Christmas tree and you had decorated from top to bottom, ornaments, garlands, decorative throw pillows, you even went as far as to change the curtains.

He didn't miss the mistletoe hanging above each doorway. "What's this about?" He asks, pointing to the bundle of greenery.

You pull him to the arch leaving into the living room, kissing him once again. "That," you smiled.

He rolled his eyes playfully, letting you drag him through the house, stopping under every bundle of mistletoe for a kiss.

"Does this mean you're gonna stop me all day and give me a kiss every time?" He looked at you, your arms wrapped around his waist as you looked up at him, nodding. "Absolutely."

"As much as I'd love that, I have to do this simulator for Christian."

"Oh boo, doesn't this man take a break? It is the holidays, you know." You groaned, forehead pressed to Max's chest.

He cups your jaw, pulling you to look at him. "I won't be long, just this one last thing."

"Fine," you let him go, Max kissed your head before heading up to the room with his simulator.

It was just a little over an hour when you heard the shouting. "Y/n! Y/n!" Your boyfriend shouts at the top of his lungs.

You find yourself rushing up the stairs, nearly tripping. "What?!" You looked around, "what's wrong?!"

He shook his head, pointing to the two cats curled up next to each other in the corner of the doorway. Jimmy and Sassy seemed to have missed their daddy, curling up in his simulator room as he worked.

You smiled but smacked Max's arm. "You gave me a heart attack!" Max laughs, his arm around your waist as he pulls you to him. "Sorry baby, let me make it up to you hm?"

"I'm listening," you look at him and there's a wicked smile on his face, pulling you flush to him for a breathtaking kiss.

Your hand rests on his cheek when he lets you go, head spinning as you look at the man. "What.. wow." You giggled and Max smiled, kissing you once more but softly this time.

"What brought that on?" You asked.

Max points above the two of you and you look up to see a bundle of mistletoe you know you didn't put up there.

"What happened to not liking it?" You asked him with a raised brow.

He smiles, "never said that, did I?"

[lovexdeepspace]

“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

[seeingivy]

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

--  

“hi honey bee.” 

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on. 

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate. 

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday. 

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect. 

a stitched and tailored suit,  designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city. 

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office. 

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks. 

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?” 

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways. 

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did. 

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa. 

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer. 

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you. 

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center. 

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.” 

you scoff. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.” 

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing? 

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name. 

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath. 

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face. 

--

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge. 

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly. 

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert. 

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day. 

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?” 

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head. 

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation. 

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night. 

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare. 

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.” 

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes. 

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side. 

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states. 

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh. 

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide. 

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks. 

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state. 

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states. 

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown. 

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks. 

you grin. 

“delta.” 

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.” 

you give him an exaggerated gasp. 

“a private jet? tell me all about it.” 

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out. 

--

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again. 

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him. 

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating. 

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks. 

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan. 

she giggles, leaning down to whisper. 

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.” 

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng. 

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee. 

“he’s losing it.” 

“who?” 

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.” 

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie. 

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.” 

you nearly choke on your spit. 

“what?” 

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.” 

you snort. 

“there’s no way.” 

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.” 

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie. 

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.” 

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?” 

“i swear to god.” 

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it. 

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti. 

“oh, look, look.” 

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly. 

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day. 

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos. 

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it. 

--

“can you close out my tab, toji?” 

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you. 

“you too, doll?” 

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state. 

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out. 

“rough day, y/n?” 

you shrug. 

“same old – can’t really complain. you?” 

toji smiles. 

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.” 

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar. 

“him?” 

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses. 

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.  

“honey bee?” he slurs. 

the smell is overwhelming. 

“the one and only.” you respond. 

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“huh?” 

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?” 

he glares. 

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans. 

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond. 

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone. 

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?” 

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar. 

“no thank you.” 

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.” 

satoru snorts. 

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.” 

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight. 

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask. 

he huffs a sigh. 

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.” 

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence. 

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.” 

--

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked. 

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all. 

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body. 

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state. 

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns. 

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks. 

you grin. 

“yes.” you respond. 

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks. 

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose. 

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes. 

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.” 

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states. 

you scoff. 

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states. 

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will. 

he was impossible. 

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink. 

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes. 

“okay.” you respond. 

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too. 

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes. 

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends. 

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond. 

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.” 

you snort. 

“shocker.” you deadpan. 

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence. 

“so what do i do?” he asks. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.” 

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else? 

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one. 

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers. 

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand. 

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer. 

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start. 

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist. 

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.” 

“raggedy anne?” he asks. 

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…” 

his eyes widen, as he leans forward. 

“do you guys not like her?” he asks. 

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think. 

you peek your head out the window –  a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window. 

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states. 

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.” 

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks. 

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit. 

“you would go back to her?” you ask. 

“i dunno. i –” 

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!” 

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. 

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –” 

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.” 

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state. 

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious. 

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..” 

“two.” you scold. 

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –” 

“three.” 

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain. 

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation. 

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands. 

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him. 

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks. 

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“mean stuff?” 

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add. 

satoru crosses his hands over his chest. 

“that’s not very mature.” 

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?” 

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over. 

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state 

“i’m not repressed!” he whines. 

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.” 

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it. 

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment. 

“do it.” you whisper. 

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“did you want something satoru?” she asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts. 

“hold on one second.” she says. 

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!! 

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.” 

satoru looks up at you. 

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs. 

you fight the urge to laugh. 

“what did you say?” anne marie responds. 

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder. 

“good! say it again!” you whisper. 

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking. 

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”  

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything. 

“say something else.” you whisper. 

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment. 

“how was that?” 

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds. 

“she sure did.” 

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds. 

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face. 

“have you done that before?” he asks. 

“done what?” you ask. 

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?” 

you smile. 

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state. 

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.” 

“i mean, s’pretty standard.” 

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head. 

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.” 

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too. 

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it. 

you feel bad for him. 

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“yeah.” 

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond. 

“what is?” 

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state. 

“okay.” 

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.” 

“meaning?” 

you shrug. 

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.” 

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still. 

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead. 

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile. 

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state. 

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?” 

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?” 

you smile. 

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?” 

satoru freezes. 

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.” 

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring. 

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different. 

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state. 

“okay, yeah.” 

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little. 

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink. 

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.” 

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all. 

“i could do that too.” he states. 

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“shut up.” 

“you’re pretty.” 

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks. 

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.” 

“like this?” 

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.” 

you shake your head. 

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.” 

satoru leans forward, eyes wide. 

“what are you into?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“did you really crash your car?” you ask. 

he groans. 

“you know about that?” 

you laugh. 

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.” 

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes. 

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room. 

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out. 

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was. 

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind. 

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now. 

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there. 

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan. 

“can i sleep with you?” 

“i beg your pardon?” 

satoru sighs. 

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.” 

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…” 

he shakes his head. 

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.” 

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you. 

“are you a virgin?” 

“i am not a virgin.” 

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room. 

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state. 

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?” 

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you. 

you swear he kisses your hairline. 

“did you just kiss me again?” 

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.” 

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state. 

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?” 

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head. 

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated. 

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks. 

“do what?” 

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks. 

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his. 

“yes, satoru. of course you can.” 

--

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. 

honey bee,  heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O  satoru 

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands. 

that he really does look better this way. 

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor. 

“did you check your math?” he asks. 

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask. 

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile. 

“did you like my gift?” 

“yes. but i have a few notes.” 

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk. 

“do tell.” 

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.” 

“candles can give you allergies?” 

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?” 

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.” 

satoru whines. 

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office. 

--

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[flowerfreya]

The Office AU

part 17 - Poly!141 The men are trying to show reader that they like , but she has some issues reading the signs Pairing: poly!141 x reader

There has been a lot of causal touching. That you are starting to slowly freak you out. 

Everytime John calls you into his office to ask for a really simple and almost down right disrespectful task that he is asking for you to do. 

“Hey bird, need your help for something”, John calls to you , leaning against the doorway in his office. 

“Sure, let me just find a stopping point”, you could stop at any point but just wanted to seem like you were doing something, not because you aren't doing anything but because you always finish your work early in the day. Standing up and walking over to his office , he puts his hand on your lower back as you walk in, it has you stiffening up and developing a little sweat on your hands. You don’t know what he means when he touches you like this. 

Is he doing it on purpose? 

Does he always touch women like this or just you? 

Does he like me ? 

“Can’t figure out the printer again”, he says, a little too shameful. Considering you’ve shown him how to do this a couple of times already and he just seems to not be getting it. You go over the steps again , sitting down in his chair and you swivel around to him to see if he’s got it. 

“Does that make sense”, you ask him. Look up at him. He then crowds your space and points to the screen and asks a question but you miss it because all you can do is feel his body heat. 

He’s standing right behind you leaning over, which puts some weight on his body on your shoulder. 

You breathe in long and hard and swear you can smell his deodorant and a little of his natural body musk. 

You want to have an oxygen mask of just that scent and only have that survive. 

He brings you out of the haze when he lays his hand on you shoulder, “think I got it, hen” 

“Got what”, you ask. 

“Seems like it printed”, he says, then points to the door frame where Gaz is standing holding what looks to be about 20 copies of some order form. 

“Oh”, you let out quietly, standing up from his chair , “let me know if you need anything else”, you say as you walk out. Going immediately to the bathroom and re applying some powder because you know you are shiny after going through that tortuous 20 minutes. 

You do your nails almost every two weeks. Since you do it yourself it takes forever and you always had a design or too and you’ve been getting better at it. 

So when Soap grabs both of hands and stares at your nails, you forget that you did themand the only thought that is going through your head is that his hands are soft. 

“This look right good," he says , leaning on your desk and bringing your hands closer to his face. 

“Yer did it yourself?”, he ask and you know it takes a second to answer him but he’s still holding your hands and it’s kinda hard to focus. 

You answer and it gets you excited about your nails. You're super proud of them. 

Then god damn him , he starts giving your hands a massage. 

You were not prepared for that, letting out a quick but low moan. 

It has Soap stopping what he’s doing , giving your a little smirk , “feel good?”. 

“J-just surprised me is all”, it did feel good but you didn’t want him to know that, you don’t even know how he feels about you. 

He still flirts with everyone that comes in this office. And he’s playful. Maybe a bit too playful. You’ve done playful before and that just turn into taking care of all the important stuff because “your better at that stuff” and whole bunch of resentment. 

Pulling your hands away slowly , you thank him for the compliments and start to open your yogurt that doubles as your breakfast. As he walks away, “that yogurt is expired”, he says. Which has you looking down and you see the expiration date of two days ago. 

[moonstruckme]

could you do a poly!marauders with fem reader where reader doesn’t swear at all (or like REALLY rarely) and the boys are with her and something happens and she just starts cussing like a sailor and the boys are like O: ??where??did??that??come??from??

Thanks for requesting my love! This is not based at all on anything that's ever happened to me ofc (I've never cursed even once in my life and am a very attentive driver) but it was fun to write!!

cw: near-miss car accident

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 820 words

“I can’t believe you keep the seat so far back,” you say, squinting into the rear view mirror. 

“Right?” James backs you up from where he’s gently massaging Remus’ knee in the backseat. “Moony, your height is an injustice to us all.” 

Sirius smirks out the passenger window. “I don’t mind it.” 

You laugh, glancing into the mirror to assess Remus’ countenance. He’s usually the one to drive the four of you around, but he’d woken up this morning with his knee aching and none of you had wanted to chance him getting a cramp or tweaking a muscle while he had his foot on the gas. He claims the pain isn’t bad and the rest of you are playing along, but his promises do little to reassure you. Remus’ tolerance is crazy high from years of aches, pains, and injuries, so him saying it doesn’t hurt very much is like when Sirius says he’ll be over in five minutes; he probably believes it to be true, but everyone else knows better. 

Remus’ lips are twisted slightly upward at your bantering, though, and when you scan his face for signs of tension or discomfort you don’t find any. He starts to lean onto James’ shoulder, then shoots back up, eyes widening. 

Sirius’ sharp inhale has you whipping your attention back out the windshield, where another car is trying to butt into the small space between your car and the one in front.

“Fucking fuck!” You hit the brakes and slam the butt of your hand into the horn, letting it blare until the intruding car swerves back into their lane. If you’d hit them, it would have been Sirius’ side colliding with the driver’s door. Your blood pounds in your ears. “What the hell, jackass? Stay in your own fucking lane!” You start to pass them, and the driver hastily puts down his phone, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah, how about we stay off our goddamn phones while we’re on the road? Fucking dumbass.” 

You blow out a harsh breath, refocusing on the traffic around you now that the danger has passed. The car has gone completely silent. “Oh no, Remus, did it hurt your knee when I braked, honey? I’m so sorry.” 

A beat, and then Remus clears his throat. “Uh, no.”

The tension doesn’t break. You wouldn’t blame the boys if they were still in shock from your near-miss, but the quiet is a bit unnerving. You’re fighting the urge to look over at Sirius or glance at Remus and James in the rear view mirror, not wanting to take your eyes off the road again. 

You jump when James asks, “What just happened?” at the same time as Sirius shouts “Fucking yeah, baby!” and holds up his hand for you to high-five. 

You barely brush it with your fingertips, hesitant and a bit wary. “What?”

“Dove,” Remus says hoarsely, “I’ve never heard that kind of language from you.” 

“Oh.” Your ears burn. “Yeah, sorry.” 

Sirius makes a sound that’s half startlement, half something else. You chance a look his way, and he’s grinning at you, mouth hanging slightly open. You think those might be stars in his eyes. “Don’t fucking apologize,” he laughs, sounding downright giddy. “That was great! Fantastic! I didn’t know you had this side to you, gorgeous.”

You shrink a bit in your seat, but there’s nowhere to go. You know if you check your mirror, you’ll find two more pairs of eyes staring at you from the backseat. “I don’t usually…well, you guys haven’t been around me while I’m driving before.” 

James guffaws. Sirius has begun to shake with silent laughter beside you. “Do you mean to tell me this happens every time you drive?” James asks.

“Not every time,” you say defensively. “They spooked me.” 

“They spooked you?” Sirius hoots from beside you, and now you can hear even Remus’ quiet chuckling. “Baby, I didn’t know you knew half those words! If that’s what happens when you drive, I want you behind the wheel every time.” 

“Oi,” Remus objects, but there’s no offense to be found in his tone. “It’s not like I don’t cuss.” 

“No,” James replies, reaching up to squeeze at your shoulders playfully, “but with you it’s not usually such a performance. That was a spectacle!” 

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised,” you say, but you’re giggling now too, worse when Sirius joins in on James’ teasing, pinching at your side. “You all curse like sailors, you were bound to rub off on me eventually.” 

“It’s not like you’re not allowed to curse, dovey,” Remus says. “It’s just that we weren’t expecting it from you.” 

“And what, you’re gonna act like it’s our fault?” Sirius scoffs, poking you in the ribs and grinning when you squirm away. “As if any of us would ever say ‘fucking fuck.’ That’s an amateur's work, gorgeous. Can’t blame us for that one.” 

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Your First Time

Prompt: You confide to Killer that you're a virgin and want to be prepared for Kid.

NSFW

Kid X Fem Reader X Killer

You had been on the Victoria Punk for a couple weeks now, had gotten the routine of how everyone works and how everything moves. It felt comforting being some place with a consistent schedule, even if it was filled with eccentric people, you now called your friends. Although you couldn’t ignore something forever, your Captain, the one who had convinced you to come aboard by practically dragging you on, kept trying to get you alone.

         It’s not that you didn’t enjoy it, and Kid was certainly public about his intentions, slapping your ass as you walk by, pulling you on his lap if he so desires, and the make-out sessions were great. But you started to overthink on one particular night when he had a grip on your hips while he was grinding his hard on into you while biting at your neck. It wasn’t the fact that you were in front of everyone, no one seemed to care over the public display. You had felt embarrassed when a moan escaped your lips, putting a hand to your mouth while your face turned red, but Kid had grabbed your wrist grunting that he wanted to hear you.

         The real problem wasn’t the location, your head wasn’t reeling at what was happening around you. Despite being open to try things, and never denying Kid, you had always wiggled your way out of his grasp before it got any farther. Kid would clearly be annoyed, but wouldn’t push you, and it started gnawing at your mind.

         So you decided to go to Killer, the right hand man of Kid, and another conquest Kid had made clear was his. You woke up extra early, knowing no one else would be up to bother the conversation you were about to pull the first mate in too. Closing the door behind you as you hear the clinking of pots.

         Killer glances over his shoulder, “Y/N, you’re up early.” His low deep voice making your heart flutter a little bit. You sit as close to him as possible without being in his work space, watching him move about the kitchen before setting a cup of coffee and a muffin in front of you, “Any reason for this visit?” He leans against the counter, crossing his arm while peering down at you through his mask.

         You let out a noise as you try to find the words in your mind, deciding to take a sip of coffee to ignore the question for juts a couple more seconds. The hot liquid practically burning your tongue as the two of you sit in silence. Killer doesn’t pressure you, nor does he move to continue what he was doing, He waits patiently while seeing you dance the cup between your hands before you hang your head down letting a sigh out, “It’s about Kid.”

         Killer perks up at your quiet admission. Before he could ask anything, you continue, “Or rather it’s about me.” Your face turning red as he watches you stare at the steam. You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, still refusing to look at him, “I’m uh. I’m not experienced.” Your voice going to whisper at your admission.

         After a heavy silence hits you, you start to babble about how you’ve never had the chance, and that it’s embarrassing to be with someone like Kid and what if you don’t live up to what he expects. The quick rant continues until a hand slaps the table next to you, startling you to be quiet as you realize Killer looming over you. Your face red as you remember to breathe again.

         “So… You’re worried you’ll disappoint Kid?” His chest barely brushing against you as he leans lower, “And you want me to help?” The clarifying question send another round of emotions swirling around your mind.

         “Well, uh. It’s just. Kid is so quick, and rough. And it’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just. Um.” You stop for a second to gather your thoughts, “You seem more gentle.” The whisper of the last sentence leaving your mouth before you could change your mind, “Maybe could give me pointers about him.” Your thumb rubbing the rim of the cup in your hand while you stare at Killers hand resting next to yours.

         You aren’t sure what Killer is thinking as he walks away, starting to actually cook breakfast again. You start to pick at the muffin in front of you, accepting the silent refusal. The noise of others waking up and walking on deck alerting you to the time. You go to stand up, placing both hands on the table, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

         “Meet me in the captain’s room after lunch.” The husky whisper sending a shiver down your spine, you whip your head around and before you could say anything others start to enter the room. Killer places a plate of breakfast in front of you, also setting a place for the others coming in, leaving you with your head reeling.

~~~

         You made you way through your ship, you knew Kid was in his workshop right now but it still felt weird to be going to his room. The dim corridor echoing your foot steps before stopping in front of the large door that had subtle dents and scratches in the wood. Should you knock? Should you just walk in? Before you could decide Killer opened the door, ushering you into the large room before shutting it.

         You take in your surroundings, a huge bed laid against the back wall, posts on each corner that made it seem much to fancy for who you knew Kid to be. A large desk in the corner filled with scrap metal and bookshelves full of knick-knacks and books that looked well-loved, bars in front of them, presumably to keep them in place during storms.  A rather large mirror encompassing most of a wall, just across from the side of the bed. There were two wardrobes, one shut with nothing in front of it while the other had doors ajar, clothes piled around. The room seemingly a mix between well-worn and messy, and lived in but clean.

         “Done staring there, Y/N?” Killer’s voice spooked you, when you realized he was sitting at the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands while staring at you through his mask. You mouth becoming dry as you stare at his bare chest, a happy trail of blonde hair dipping below his pants.

         You glance further down at his crotch before snapping your eyes back up towards his masked face, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. No doubt your entire face was red at this point, the tips of you ears even feeling hot as you feel rooted in your spot. “W-what if Kid comes by? This is his room won’t he-“

         “We share this room sweetness, now get over here.” Killer’s stern voice had you moving your legs underneath you. Approaching the sitting man as your nervous hands grab his shoulders, placing your knees on either side of his legs before resting on his knees. His rough hands taking a gentle hold of your waist as he shifts you closer to him. Gentle circles from his thumbs helping you relax slightly. “How do you want to do this?”

         His question shocks you a bit, your grip of his shoulders tighten a bit as you remain silent, not really knowing how to answer. “I know you’re a virgin, but I didn’t think you’d be innocent too” His silent taunting voice shook you as his hands moved to the top of your thighs, pulling at the skin slightly. His head goes closer to yours before whispering, “Do you want to be in control or do you want me to do everything?” One of his hands angling closer to your crotch, a thumb narrowly missing your core.

         You nuzzle you head into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around his neck, “S-show me how to do everything.” Your meek voice making him tense slightly underneath you. He seems to hesitate slightly, so you swallow your pride, “How do I make someone feel good Killer?” You whisper it in his ear, sitting up slightly to push him against the bed. Sitting on top of him as you slowly take your shirt off, grinding down enough to feel the tent in his pants.

         Killer watches you trying to be confident in your actions, the slightly clumsy movements of an attempt of seduction turning him on more than if you were actually experienced. Maybe he should have told Kid of your intentions so he could watch. Watch your timid shy self try to be what you think Kid wants, doing everything to please him and learn how to make him crazy. If Kid finds out, he’ll surely have opinions on the matter. But, in Killer’s defense, he hadn’t expected you to be so eager, he thought you wanted to be prepared, to know how it feels, before experiencing it with Kid, who was often harsh in his actions. The idea of Kid finding out of your inexperience amused him, thinking of how he would have handled the situation instead.

         Killer is brought back to his senses when he feels you tug at his pants, already on your knees while staring intently at your newest project. With a little bit of a struggle, you release Killer’s cock, it bouncing into the air before you hesitantly take hold.

         One of your hands on his bare thigh while the other gives a slight squeeze to the base. You stare at the veiny appearance as it twitches, it’s much bigger than you had expected. “If you want Kid to go insane,” The low grunt reminding you of Killer, “You should look up at him while you drool over his cock.”

         You think about his words, taking an experimental lick from the base to the tip, hearing a slight curse from above you. You move your hand up, brushing the plump tip with your thumb while letting saliva pool in your mouth.

         You open your lips, letting your tongue lull out, hovering just above Killers tip as drool slowly rides down onto his cock, you glance up to meet Killer’s eyes in an attempt to ask if what you were doing was correct. His masked face not giving you much but the curse under his breath as his hand slips onto your head is enough encouragement as you turn your attention back to the matter at hand. Slowly pursing your lips around him, the slick of your drool being spread as you bob your head down a bit.

         Killers tells you to relax your jaw, before pressing you down a bit more. You flatten your tongue against his shaft, taking in the salty flavor of sweat and precum, trying to be careful to not scrape your teeth against him. You go down a bit deeper, gagging as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming your eyes, “remember to breathe when you come up.” Killer coaching you through it all as you continue to try and take him deeper. You feel yourself getting hot, wanting to be touched yourself but also not wanting to miss any instructions as your fingers dig into his thighs, your other hand twisting and bobbing in unison with your head.

         Killer grabs your hair, tugging you off his dick as you release him with a ‘pop’, you tongue laying out of your mouth slightly as you catch your breath. He brushes some tears away from your cheeks as he tells you how good you did. He picks you up and places you on the bed, waiting for you to be ready before he removes your shorts.

         “Kid is thicker than I am, so you have to be prepared for that,” He murmurs while you let him spread your legs. Your head propped up by some pillows, one hand leaning against the head board while the other was being bitten to not let noises out so you could listen better. Your eyes half lidded, a little disappointed that you hadn’t made Killer cum before he pulled you off.

         The touches of another person’s hands on your skin, so close to your core was driving you insane. The fire building up as Killer spreads your folds apart, the cool air hitting you more before the tip of his finger teases your entrance.

         Killer knew he was fucked at this point, if Kid finds out how sweet and adorable your mewls are while learning how to please him. He mentally prepared himself for Kid’s anger later before pressing in. Watching as you happily accepted the single finger, the soft warmness welcoming the intrusion with a slight buck of your hips. He glances up to see you staring down at him, the lustful look covering you face as you bit a knuckle. Killer shifted, keeping a finger in you as he reached up to grab your wrist, “You know Kid likes listening.”

         A whine escaping your lips as you feel another finger inside you. Killer moves your hand towards your breast, and you take that as an order to knead it, playing with your nipple, pinching and squeezing in pace with Killer spreading and pumping his fingers inside you. He watches you and you can’t help but to glance away, your head turning towards the mirror. You let out another moan, seeing yourself unraveled with Killer arched above you preparing you for more. You see Killers head glance up at you before turning towards the mirror, he stops his movements entirely.

         “There’s a reason this is here,” He pulls his digits out of you entirely, a slight ache as you feel yourself pulse around nothing. He sits at the edge of the bed, facing the mirror while gesturing you to come over. You crawl over to him before he picks you up, your legs hooking over his as he leans your back against his chest and widen his own legs, making you open further in full view of yourself.

         The way you glistened slightly, the slight rub of Killers hard dick just underneath you, the glimpse of his cock in the mirror so close to your pussy making your mind go wild. The emotionless mask tilted down as both hands approach your entrance, a single finger from each hand entering you at two different angles, “Watch yourself Y/N.” The demand had your head snapping towards the mirror, watching as he slowly pumping his fingers inside you.

         The dull ache being replaced with want before he pulls your pussy open, adding another finger while you feel the sting of being stretched open. At some point your impatience gets ahead of you when you grind your hips down, feeling Killer’s hard on below you, “You aren’t prepared yet.” The hushed warning tone as he added yet another finger, the harsh pump stretching you out as you let out a moan with a single movement hitting a bundle of nerves. He warns you to behave if you don’t want to be hurt by accident as your body burns up wanting more.

         In frustration you lean up, twisting your head to bite Killers neck. Your arms going to wrap themselves around the man behind you to keep him close to your attack. The gasp that leaves Killers mask makes you light headed but you don’t let up, lapping your tongue at where your teeth was starting to break his skin. “Yea, I can tell why Kid likes you.”

         Killer was having a hard time controlling himself, he didn’t want to hurt you. And knowing how big he and Kid were, wanted to take time to properly prepare you. But your gasps and moans were thinning his patience. The grind on him making him go nearly insane, and the bite in his neck only reminding him of how Kid marks him ever so often. He thought about what he should do next, he could take you right now, finally get done the main mission of you coming to him this morning. But you were doing this to learn about Kid, to be prepared for when the domineering Captain finally got a hold of you in private.

         His thoughts were interrupted with a creek of the door, glancing up in the mirror he could see the red feathered coat. You hadn’t seemed to notice the extra person, too entranced on leaving a mark on Killers neck. Killer smirks under his mask, spreading your legs more and twisting so Kid could have a better view as to what was happening, a moan vibrating against Killers skin at the movement.

         “Y/N. Remind me, why are we doing this?” Killer’s hushed tone made you confused as you detached yourself from him, leaning your forehead against his neck as he continued to brush against your bundle of nerves.

         “W-wanna be. Good, for Kid,” Your moans and breathing making you take time to finish the sentence before glancing at the mirror with half lidded eyes.

         “Mmhmm, and why is that?” Killer’s eyes bounced from what he was doing with you to the tall man who had closed the door, locking it. No doubt, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. Killer couldn’t help but want to see Kid’s reaction.

         Kid watched from his position as Killer and you were having fun. You hadn’t even slept with Kid yet and here he’s finding you playing Killer. His anger was replaced by curiosity when he saw Killer adjust with you in his lap. The words spilling out of your mouth as your naked body was flushed and wide open like an invitation, Killer clearly stretching you wide with soft pants coming from you. Kid already more than pleased with your answer.

         He’d certainly have to show Killer who was in charge later, but for now he couldn’t stop watching as your head turned to face the mirror, although you seemed to out of it to realize he was there, Kid starting to palm himself through his pants while watching you stare at yourself in the mirror. The confusion clear in your face from Killers second question before your face turned a darker shade of red, “Cause it’s my first time.” The low whisper sending Kid crazy, you were still to focused on watching yourself react to see anything else in the room.

         Kid walks over to the bed, gripping your hair and twisting your head towards him, the moan that escapes your lips sending him to another planet before you realize who you’re looking at. “Our little mouse’s first time?” The devious smile playing on his lips as he watches your wide eyes stare up at him. Kid glances towards Killer, who had stopped fingering in in favor of wrapping his hands under your thighs, lifting them up and holding them in place for Kid to view.

         “K-Kid-“ You stutter out, more embarrassed at being so exposed, you wiggle to try and get free only for Killer’s grip to become tighter, Kid moving his hand to your chin, squishing your mouth open.

         “And what have the two of you done so far?” His tone dipping down as his other hand meets your warmth, you involuntarily buck your hips towards his touch with a low moan, “Seems like your needy cunt is more than ready.”

         You feel Killer’s dick twitch beneath you while Kid shoves a finger into you, taking your lips in his, shoving his tongue down your throat. You move your arms around Kid’s neck, pulling him closer as he presses you further into Killer’s embrace. When you start feeling light head he leans back, looking between the two of you before pulling a chair closer, undressing as he sits down in front of you. Killer adjusts his legs a bit, as though expecting what Kid is about to say, “Show me what else you were going to do. Make her cry.”

         You let out a small squeal at the demand you’ve just heard as Killer reaches one of his hands down to direct his dick to your entrance. Letting your leg go slack before holding it up again. The hard stare of Kid, who had started to stroke himself, was only added to the pleasure as you felt Killer’s tip nestled in your entrance.

         You roll your hips downwards, gasping at the sudden intrusion you had be longing for. Killer grunts, finally letting himself sink into you. You groan at the sting of being stretched, eyes squeezing shut the deeper he goes into you. The mixture of pleasure and pain flooding your brain the more you're filled. Kid leans forward, placing a hand on Killers knee as he watches you squirm and moan.

         Killer leans down closer to you and you take the opportunity to nuzzle your face into him, twisting uncomfortable as he starts to fuck up into you at a steady pace. Your hand reaches down, feeling the tight sensation of being fucken into, your fingers dipping down around Killers cock to feel how you’ve stretched around him.

         The tight sting becomes pleasure soon enough as you yell his name, finally gathering the courage to open your eyes again. You stare down to see Kid massaging Killers thighs, the fast motions making it hard for you to focus. All of a sudden you feel a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh, a tongue moving over Killers fingers settling closer to the action. You look back down to see Kid peppering your thigh in small kisses before he bites down hard. A scream erupting from your throat, the sensitive skin being overwhelmed with pleasure more than pain.

         Killer lets out grunts behind you, his head resting on your shoulder as he continues to fuck you senseless as Kid finds another patch of skin to bite. Soon enough your body littered with bruising bites, some leaking blood as you hold onto Kid, moaning both the men’s names without reason other than you wanted more.

         “Let her down,” The whisper erupting from Kid causes Killer to gently place your thighs down, blood slowly running through your legs again as Killers dick kisses your cervix with the new found gravity pulling you down. You cry out, gripping Kids shoulder, falling forward slightly. Kid’s head goes behind you, his shoulder right in front of you for you to sink your teeth into as you hear Killer let out a throaty moan. A glance in the mirror shows you the Kid has latched himself onto the blonde man, the opposite side from where you had bitten him.

         Kids dick brushes against your stomach, the rigorous movements still making your mind numb as you reach down. You hesitate when you realize just how thick Kid is. Both your hands meeting to fully wrap around him as you start to squeeze and pump. The hearty groan you hear from Kid causing a shiver down your spine as he thrusts into your touch.

         You feel a bundle in your stomach starting to unravel as time continues. Biting harder into Kid’s shoulder as it comes undone, tasting the sweaty copper the enters your mouth as Kid hisses. Killer gripping your hips before lifting you off him with just enough time to cum on your stomach. You can feel Killer breathing heavy behind you as Kid continues to thrusts into your hands, “Cumming without me now?” His words feign hurt as he pushes Killer to lay on the bed, you laying on top of him before Kid climbs, pumping his cock inches away from your face.

         Killer wraps his arms around you in a comforting manner as you decide to open your mouth, letting your tongue hang out in preparation for what was to cum. Kid smiles down at you before placing his tip to your lip, letting the precum smear against you before aiming inside you. The hot white liquid hitting the back of your throat quickly before you swallow the sour taste down.

         “Damn, you were gonna let me miss this?” Kids husky voice turning slightly sweet as his hand caresses your cheek before glancing up at Killer who squeezes you tighter to his body, “And here I was thinking you two wouldn’t get along.”

         Your mind was still foggy, not fully processing what was happening. The sudden stop of movements lets the air tickle your skin, turning you slightly cold. You turn to snuggle into the man below you, an arm grabbing onto Kid in an attempt to pull him down. “ ‘m tired” You mumble, the throbbing ache starting to become more prominent as your eyelids got heavier.

         Kid watches as you fall asleep in Killers arms, “Why didn’t ya take your mask off?” The question came as he leaned down to remove Killers helmet himself. A sweaty, flushed red embarrassed face was revealed making Kid chuckle, “Like our lil Mouse that much?” The silent agreement coming as Killer gets on the bed properly, laying against the pillows, being careful to not wake you up.

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 27

a/n: eeeek. this chapter is a bit short, so the next one will be coming soon after! thank you @bahablastplz for editing!

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Of Insomnia and Revelations

You don’t even bother to grab your phone before exiting the room, wanting to put as much space between the two of you before you spew words that you might later regret.

Fuck. You.

And so goes the next two weeks. You’re spared most of Chan’s antics during your period, save for a blowjob. He has you on his bed, on all fours, while he grips the back of your head and fucks your face. Your lack of humane interactions with him makes you feel distraught, but you can’t deny how good it feels to please him. To see him looking down at you with such intensity, lip caught between his teeth as he comes in your mouth. You wish it felt more rewarding, though.

Your only reprieve comes during your days with Hyunjin.

As much as you try to enjoy the peace he provides you, Chan continues to invade your thoughts. You’re no longer thinking of the ‘why’ to his behavior, though. Now, you can only consider how long you can put up with it. This isn’t the way you treat someone you allegedly care about; someone you were willing to throw your life away for. That’s the part that can’t wrap your head around.

You didn’t imagine the final few months in the house would be perfect after telling him no, but you thought they’d at least be cordial.

You’re lying in bed next to Hyunjin, eyes wide open as you contemplate how long you can survive being silently ignored and sexually tormented. Your last two days with Chan this week, he refused to let you have an orgasm. He’s exercising and pushing his control in a way that just doesn’t feel the same without your previous connection. Without knowing there’s any ounce of respect for you in his eyes.

You feel Hyunjin shake your shoulder.

“Go to sleep,” he says groggily.

“I’m trying,” you tell him.

“Come here,” he turns onto his side, and you do too so you’re facing each other.

He uses a hand to stroke your hair as you snuggle in closer to him. You resort to counting fucking sheep to lose yourself in the calm he’s pouring into you. And finally, you’re able to fall asleep.

On Monday morning in the girls’ bathroom getting ready for class, you find yourself stuck in front of the mirror, leaning closer to your reflection to inspect the growing bags under your eyes. You haven’t slept well in days, and it’s starting to show.  

The door swings open and you drop your hands from your face as Allie walks in.

“You okay?” she asks, seeing you startled.

“Yeah…just tired,” you shrug.

She stops in the middle of the bathroom and takes in your reflection through the mirror.

“You sure? You seem a little different lately—you and Chan do.”

“It’s nothing,” you try to brush it off.

She walks towards you until she’s standing next to you, eyes still on yours through the mirror.

“Don’t give me that,” she shakes her head. “You know that boy refused to touch me during rotational? He hardly even looked at me, really.”

It makes you frustratingly happy to hear that, another testament of his devotion to you, but at the same time incredibly sad because it no longer feels that way. If rotations had happened now, after all this, would he still have refrained from touching her? You doubt it.

“We’re not supposed to talk about that, Allie.”

“I’m only telling you, and I know you won’t say anything to anyone else. You deserve to know how much he cares about you.”

“It doesn’t mean anything, though. It can’t.”

“It can while you’re here. We’re all operating with the knowledge of our expiration dates…just, try not to focus on the end and enjoy the time you have together now.”

She offers you a kind smile before playfully smacking you on the butt as she walks towards the shower.

She makes it sound so simple. Initially, that’s what you had wanted, too. To be happy with the time you have left together rather than the resentment now seeping through his pores.

Later, you help the girls cook dinner and sit at the table with everyone for the meal. You keep glancing at Chan occasionally, thinking of what Allie said. Does he just need a little nudge? Can you break through to him again and regain some semblance of normalcy for your last ten weeks in the house?

After dinner, you take a long shower, then go up to his room and climb into your bed with the lights off. You’re scrolling through your phone when he comes in, not making any attempts to be quiet.

“You up?” he asks loudly.

You lock your phone and let it fall to the bed without answering him. You hold your breath as you hear his footsteps growing closer. You feel his weight on the bed when he sits down and tugs on the blanket. Your body instantly feels warm with how close he is, still intent on betraying you whenever he is near. Your grip on the blanket loosens, allowing him to pull it down.

You’re sad. Of course you are. But you still want him to know that you’re here for him, that you yearn to be close to him. You want to get through to him and come to a mutual understanding, you want to see if it’s possible. You still believe there’s a chance to make that happen. You just need to know what he’s thinking.

He nudges your shoulder, so you turn over and lay flat on your back.

“Are you just never going to speak to me again?” you ask as he slips a hand underneath your shirt.

“What do you want me to say?” he counters.

Your stomach tenses up as his hand trails along the middle of it, up to your breasts. He squeezes one, brushing his thumb lightly over your nipple until it hardens, then does the same to the other. You let out a sigh, feeling your body immediately respond to his touch. The ache between your legs pulses rhythmically as you arch your back, pushing your breasts further into his hand.

“Anything,” you tell him.

“I wanna fuck you, y/n,” he says.

He knows that’s not what you meant.

He reaches for your hand and guides it to his cock—you can feel that he’s hard beneath his sweatpants. As much as it shouldn’t, it pleases you to know the effect you still have on him. It becomes apparent, though, that he has no intention of carrying on a normal conversation with you. Just fucking you.

You slip your hand beneath the waistband of his sweats and stroke his cock while he redirects his attention to your shorts. He tugs at the hem, and you lift your waist and allow him to pull them down. He rubs your pussy with his fingers, making sure to tease your clit.

You clench your jaw to keep from making a sound, not wanting him to know how good it feels so soon. How badly you want him to make you come. To let you come. You try to pull him down to you, but he pulls away.

He stands from the bed and removes his pants and boxers, then helps you out of your shirt. He turns your body so that you’re laying sideways on the bed, your ass nearly hanging off. He places one knee next to your thigh and lowers himself slightly as he rubs his cock up and down your slit.

You’re not quick enough to stop the moan that escapes your lips this time. You can’t even stop yourself as you scramble for more contact, first putting your hands on his waist and trying to pull him to you. Then on his shoulders, still trying to force him down to you, but he keeps resisting.

“I want to kiss you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head, “We shouldn’t do that anymore.”

Your brain tries to focus on the words he’s just said but keeps being thwarted by the way he’s making you feel physically. He teases your clit with his cock, rubbing it in circles around it, then eases his cock down some more to your opening. He slowly inserts the tip inside before pulling it out moving it back up to your clit.

“Why,” you pause to moan, “not?”

He’s quiet—seemingly more focused on teasing you than responding. With his cock at your entrance, he props himself up on the bed with one hand.

You try again to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, but he removes them one by one, setting them down at your side. While he’s distracted with restraining you, you wrap your legs around his waist and use them to bring his hips forward, pushing his cock inside of you.

“Fuuuck,” he moans.

As upset and annoyed and angry as you are with each other, you still want him; he still wants you. This sexual toxicity is the only thing holding you both together.

He withdraws and you use your legs to pull him forward again.

You continue that, him pulling out and you shoving him back in several more times.

“Is this all I get from you now, then?” you ask, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. “This is all you want?”

He reaches down with both hands, taking a breast in each. He pinches your nipples hard, and you moan, once again using your legs to make him thrust back into you. He groans. He loves seeing how much you need him to fuck you.

“Yes,” he finally replies, solidifying your fears. “And you’ll give it to me, won’t you?”

He pinches your nipples again.

You press your lips together, refusing to answer.

He cups your breasts, squeezing them as he lowers himself closer to your face. Your lips are so close to touching, but he still doesn’t kiss you. He starts thrusting into you on his own now.

“Won’t you?”

You can’t stop the whimper-moans with each of his thrusts. It feels good, it always feels so fucking good with him. No matter how gentle, how rough, how much turmoil.

When you still refuse to answer he straightens his back, unhooks your legs from his waist and brings them together so they’re in front of him. He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding your legs to one side as he lets out all stops and fucks you mercilessly.

You know you don’t need to bother responding—he knows the answer. He’s getting his answer in real time. You couldn’t imagine telling him no when he so desperately needs you, regardless of how he’s treating you. And that should concern you.

Neither of you say another coherent word as you use each other’s bodies. He twists and turns you around as he sees fit. At one point, he reaches over to your nightstand drawer and pulls out the vibrator before flipping you over onto all fours again. He blindly hands it to you in the dark and you waste no time in powering it on and pressing it to your clit.

Is it fucked up that you think this small action shows a sign that he cares and could eventually come around? You can almost fool yourself into believing it. 

The soft buzz of the vibrator and the sound of your thighs smacking together, his palm occasionally hitting your ass, accompanied by his grunts and your moans, and you both releasing expletives is all that fills the room.

He starts thrusting in at an angle, long and slow strokes and you feel your thighs begin to tremble.

“Oh fuck, oh shit. Chan, please,” you beg.

“Come,” he commands. “Come on my fucking cock.”

And you do.

And he comes, too.

And it feels so good.

Yet you feel so fucking broken.

And you know he does, too.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, you both continue to let your frustrations out with each other sexually. Chan remains steadfast in his new ‘no kissing’ rule, and by Wednesday you stop trying. You fuck him and suck him like there’s no tomorrow. With each passing day, it feels like there really might not be.

When you’re back with Hyunjin, it feels eerily somber. He can tell something is up, but he doesn’t pry. He never does. He allows you your space and cuddles you at night while you hold on to him for dear life at this point. You feel lost. You don’t know what to do, how to navigate this. If you should navigate this.

By Thursday night you feel closer to a solution, but the idea of going through with it scares you. So many questions, thoughts, feelings and emotions swirl around your heart and brain, and you can’t make sense of any of it.

It’s been three weeks of this treatment from him, and he hasn’t shown any signs of being your Chan again. Granted, you can’t put a timeline on how long it should take him to come to terms with what he undoubtedly sees as a rejection, but at the same time you can’t allow him to continue treating you this way. Not after all you’ve been through with him.

You wonder if he hadn’t confessed his true feelings and history of knowing you, would things be different? Hell, if you’d never invited him on that trip to Miami, perhaps you could have continued on a semi-civil basis throughout the end of the year. That ship has sailed, though. Too much has been revealed to ever take back. And as amazing as it was to feel such openness from him, it really has led to this shared downfall.

As soon as you lay in bed with Hyunjin, you will yourself to get lost in him. You kiss him, touch him, hold him, needing him to do the same. You don’t even have to ask, he just does it instinctively. He’s sweet and gentle with you, as always, wanting to please you and trying to ease your worries and pain in the best way he knows how.

However, your train of thought continually swerves back to Chan. Even with Hyunjin’s face buried between your legs, you can’t get him out of your head. You pull him up to you and bring his mouth to yours, tasting yourself on him. He positions himself at your entrance and you once again put all your focus on him as he tends to your body.

“Jagiya,” he whispers near your ear.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him against you. You don’t want him to see your face, contorted as you fight back tears. You very much still want to please him, and release what little tension you can through this physical act.

You kiss along his shoulder as you lift your hips to meet his thrust.

“You haven’t—I don’t think I can—” he stumbles over his words, fighting back his release.

“It’s okay,” you tell him.

He comes and collapses on the bed next to you, breathing heavily as you stare up at the ceiling. You feel completely out of control, and not even Hyunjin can cure it now. You know, for certain, that you cannot put up with this any longer.

As soon as the realization settles in, the needle pricks are back in your eyes and the tears come flooding out before you can stop them.

“Hyunjin,” your voice cracks with sadness, “I’m leaving.”

[ read chapter 28 here ]

a/n: one of you nailed this outcome in a comment from the last chapter. now we must wait to see how chan will react when he finds out! thank you for reading, my dears!