#and i just know he would always be an afterthought for everyone

[pulquedeguayaba]

.

I'm so fucking tired of everything

Of this stuck loop I've been into since the pandemic started (but more with my current job since June 2021)

It's like a monotonous and neurosis inducing limbo in which I'm further stuck with the toxic cycle of depression-substance abuse-possible adhd and it's do hard to get out

Taking slow and size varying steps but it's not enough

It's becoming worse lately, I can barely tolerate the people I live with. There's nothing I wish more than to have my own place just me and my dog, and no one else, at least for quite a while (except for more animals ofc, the only ones who truly brighten a home without ever giving you bitter moments). Which is hard becos gentrification and still doable ofc but it'd be like a medium-term goal (especially cos I'm not sharing).

Also I've been more aware cos lately I'm exclusively smoking hashish (except for this weekend, and yeah, definitely putting regular consumption of weed aside for some time, for this and other [dysmorphia/dysphoria/ed] related reasons) and yeah no.

And it's kinda messy and got it sorted in my head but the people around me don't respect me (and for the most part I don't care except it shows in certain interactions that have been irritating me A LOT lately) and like don't expect anything from me but some of them are also kind of disappointed in very this passive aggressive and cunty way. And I hate it and I been hating interacting with them (which isn't that often but even the shortest interactions with most of them are enough for me to feel annoyed for a while) and I can't even complain cos they'd be like tf u on? Y u overreacting? So sensitive must be the drugs and again the scenario where everyone is allowed to be angry and call people out be assertive and be emotional except fucking me (apparently is related to the cancer Mars curse, that horrendous and useless placement)

And I just wish my domestic life wasn't this stressful and because I'm a body freak I got all my reactions and ticks in check and so my body has to find ways to let out the stress (even though I work out every day sometimes quite intensely) also this is where weed usually came in but again had been giving me headaches lately plus the binge eating and yeah the smell cos paranoia and again the cycle

I feel so trapped and I feel so stuck

And I just wish I could just one day wake up and being a workaholic and get out from here

[salemoleander]

I am BARELY resisting going full red-strings-corkboard on this season. And by barely resisting I mean not resisting at all here is an extremely long list of the events those pins would be marking out.

BigB getting a Task that was a different color than everyone else's. It's not just a randomly assigned Hard Task, bc Scar rerolled for a Hard Task and his was also just a white envelope. It's fundamentally different.

That task taking BigB away from socialization, and seemingly being an incredibly time-consuming and dull request. Of profound disinterest to any watchers.

The phrasing of his Task!!

Dig a big hole. All the way down. At least 3x3. Make it your base if you want.

Everyone else's are direct and formal - the only one with more than one sentence was Skizz's, with the rule clarification of "One attempt only." Bigb's Task is four short abrupt sentences. It is also the only Task to contain extraneous information, 'Make it your base if you want.' The requirements (at least 3x3) feel like an afterthought to mimic the numerical/specific demands of the other tasks.

Evo symbol on the face of the Secret Keeper statue.

The fact that there's a statue at all; the fact that there is a physical representation of what is assigning tasks that everyone must complete, when previously everything was always handled via commands and unseen RNG.

Grian talking to the statue, and (bc of his Actual Role as game organizer) acting as a mediator for the impartial decisions handed down, speaking for it.

Grian making one last bad joke and saying he doesn't know if it counted or not- depends on whether we the audience laughed.

Grian asking for task recommendations from the audience. The watchers are making the tasks. The Watchers are making the tasks.

Again I could be off-base, and I'm not usually even that smitten with bringing in Evo lore. I don't want a Big Bad really...but. It feels like something very unusual and intentional and cool is happening in this series. And I'd guess we'll know if theres something going on once we have more than one data point.

My largely unfounded suspicion is that there is another being (maybe Listeners, maybe something else) trying to reach out to the Players via decoy Tasks, and BigB was the first recipient. Get them alone, make them of disinterest to the watchers, and tell them something we don't get to know.

Because that's the really, really fucking cool part (if my wacky theory is remotely right): We're the bad guys. We're the ones giving out tasks - hell, we're the ones actively brainstorming harder and crueller tasks in Grian's comments!

If they actually made a story where the Players have to keep secrets from us I will be delighted. Bc that is the same genius bullshit that made Evo Watcher lore so fun

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

[randxmthxughts]

Tunutu (Crush) - Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader

summary: although neteyam had never reciprocated her feelings, choosing him was always an easy decision for y/n, one of those she could make in a heartbeat. so when another man tries to win her affections, neteyam suddenly becomes aware of what he has been missing out on

wc: 7,7k

contains: childhood friends to lovers, first love/puppy love, jealousy, long-time crush

a/n: the way i completely made up everything about the vayätu-creature. sometimes i just write without a plot and although i was very excited for this idea, it was so difficult to finish it. i hope you enjoy reading it, please let me know if you do

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Come on, Lo’ak, don’t take it to heart,” Kiri nudged her brother, “You know that Neteyam has been having a hard time lately, it’s not that he pushes you around on purpose.”

You emerged from behind the thick bushes, finally finding Lo’ak and Kiri sitting on a log, engrossed in a conversation. Your curiosity piqued at the mention of Neteyam.

“Why is Neteyam having a hard time?”

Kiri stiffened under your expectant gaze, but before she could even signal to Lo’ak to hold his tongue, he was already spilling out the truth. She groaned in frustration at how senseless her brother could be at times.

“Because our parents have been nagging at him to choose a mate lately.”

Neteyam must choose a mate. Your heart dropped at the statement you had been dreading to hear for years now, ever since he had first passed his Iknimaya. It was never going to be you, you were used to the thought, but nothing could have prepared for the weight of bearing it now.

“You are such a skxawng,” Kiri hissed at Lo’ak, swatting his arm. She shot you an almost apologetic glance.

“Why? It’s not like it is a secret,” Lo’ak rolled his eyes, finally drawing a connection between your sour expression and Kiri’s sudden irritation, "Neteyam has to choose a mate soon, so that the grandmother has enough time to prepare the new tsakarem. He's been putting it off for far too long."

“It is not easy to choose someone to love for a lifetime,” Kiri added with a sigh.

But it was. Choosing Neteyam was always an easy decision for you, one of those that you could make in a heartbeat. He had been your tunutu since childhood, a curious fascination with the older brother of your friends that eventually grew into a frustratingly intense crush, haunting you at every stage of your life. It was by Eywa's grace that your paths crossed with the Olo'eyktan's children when you were about six years old, learning to hunt and running through the forest together until the eclipse. On the second day of playing with Kiri and her brothers, you had boldly declared your love for Neteyam to everyone in the village, turning it into a big inside joke among the clan. If you had known that it would follow you far into your teenage years, when kids your age were relentless and cruel, you would have been more guarded about it. The guys teased Neteyam for having an admirer so clingy, it seemed as if he had grown a second tail. But no matter how much they tried to get to you with their taunts, it never seemed to bother him.

Even as a child, Neteyam had a maturity that went beyond his years. He seeked no entertainment in punishing someone for their feelings, something they cannot control. On the contrary, he admired your loyalty and dedication to him, the way you had remained his close friend, despite his gentle refusal of your romantic overtures. And so, that’s how it went. Your relationship grew stronger over the years, you learned and failed together but were always there for each other to offer a supporting shoulder. It hit a rough patch for a short period, right after both of you had completed your Iknimayas, when you tried to distance yourself from him to avoid any rumors. But Neteyam was persistent to keep your friendship, and so he did. Eventually, your feelings for him were pushed to an afterthought, as you had come to terms that Neteyam was never going to choose you. You had made peace with being just his friend, but your heart still sank at the thought that soon enough you will be replaced.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Kiri’s concerned voice caught your attention.

“Sure,” you gulped, forcing a small smile, “Lo’ak is right, it’s not like I didn’t know.”

“Right,” Lo’ak nodded hesitantly.

The siblings exchanged a knowing look. At times, your crush on Neteyam was sweet, entertaining even. But the two of them also got to live the nasty side of an unrequited love through you. Especially Kiri, who had shared the pain of knowing she couldn’t be with someone she loved, often commiserated with you in it.

“Maybe this is a sign for me to start looking too, you know? Find a mate,” your blabbered without a thought, trying to cover any traces of the stinging pain.

“Huh?” Kiri's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she glanced at Lo'ak to see if he was as taken aback as she was. This was new.

You had never expressed the desire to find a mate before. Knowing well that Neteyam did not reciprocate your feelings and there was no point in getting your hopes up, the idea of being with somebody else appeared in your mind quite frequently, you just never voiced it. It was scary, the prospect of settling for someone you loved less, simply because there was no other choice. 

Your parents had often spoken of their own bond, a relationship that began as platonic and it was only natural when they decided to choose each other for their companions. Companions, not lovers. Though your mother had assured you that once they had completed a Tsaheylu, everything changed. That the blessed bond is a connection deeper than love, one that is impossible to ignore after experiencing everything your mate had gone through. So with a heavy heart, you had to accept that one day you might have to face the same fate.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay?” Lo’ak stood up from his seat and walked over to you. He placed the back of his palm against your forehead, as if checking for a fever. 

“I am not ill,” you chuckled, shoving him away, “I mean, I’ve known for a long time now that I’ll have to accept the advances of another man at some point. Why dwell on something I can’t have?”

It burned your throat to say the words but it was only the truth, and truth hurt. Kiri and Lo'ak agreed hesitantly with you but were still unsure if you meant it. It was as though you were convincing yourself more than them.

“Oh, Y/N…” Kiri began but Lo’ak was quick to interrupt her. 

“No, don’t do that, Kiri,” he shushed his sister before she could even express how sorry she felt for you, “You���re right, Y/N. Do you have any idea how many of my friends keep asking about you? You should get out there and have some fun, I mean, Txi’pu’s practically turning purple when he sees you.”

“Txi’pu?” you questioned, “Didn’t he tame his ikran at like… twelve?” “Yes, yet the man is flustered by your mere presence,” Lo’ak chuckled, “But he seems like a cool guy, maybe you should give him a chance.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Hey, what’s that about?” Neteyam nudged his brother, staring in the direction where you sat.

The communal dinner was in full swing, right after Lo’ak had given Txi’pu the green light to approach you. You were engrossed in conversation with Kiri, as she nibbled on her food, when Txi’pu gathered up the courage to come up to you and offer you a plate of cut-up fruit.

Lo’ak followed his brother's line of sight and straightened immediately, intrigued by the interaction. He grinned in satisfaction, as he watched you shyly accept the gift.

“Txi’pu is going to ask Y/N out,” Lo’ak explained.

“Poor man,” Neteyam snorted, watching you intently, “She’s clearly not interested.”

Neteyam braced himself, eager to enjoy how you would decline Txi'pu's offer. He had seen you reject advances before with such poise and kindness that the men didn't even realize they were supposed to be offended. It was always amusing to watch. But as he saw you take Txi'pu's hand and stand up, a low growl rumbled in his throat.

“What’s happening?” he questioned with a strained voice.

“Looks like she said yes,” Lo’ak shrugged.

Neteyam shot his brother an angry glare, as if it was entirely his fault, before turning his attention back to you. He watched Txi'pu led you away from the clan, his eyes following the sway of your hips. Eventually, as the two of you disappeared from his line of sight, Neteyam clenched his fists so tightly that the pain from his nails digging into his palms went unnoticed.

He stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the noise surrounding him. The fiery glow of the flames painted him in a crimson hue, adding to his already intimidating demeanor. Lo’ak frowned as he watched his brother walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called out after him, but Neteyam was already gone.

That night, Neteyam laid in his hammock, unable to fall into his usual deep sleep as he gazed up at the starry sky. The distant sound of your laughter reached his ears, and he couldn't tell if it was real or just a figment of his own imagination. He had never felt this way before when you got attention from other men because you never reciprocated it. He wondered what you saw in Txi'pu. Would you be happy with a man like him?

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Neteyam returned later than usual from his hunt, his body tired and mind restless from the lack of sleep. As he made his way towards the communal area, his attention was immediately drawn to you, seated with his siblings, engrossed in a conversation that seemed to captivate them. Neteyam felt a surge of energy within him at the mere sight of you talking so animatedly, he couldn’t wait to join and hear what you were saying. Quietly, he slipped in between Lo’ak and Kiri, so as to not disturb you, and his heart dropped upon the realization that the topic of the gathering was your walk with Txi’pu.

“Did he take you somewhere nice afterward?” Kiri asked, grinning.

Neteyam kept his gaze trained on the ground, not wanting to appear to be invested in your babbling about the last night, yet he hung onto every word you spoke. His patience was running thin, Kiri’s tail whacking him on the back with increasing excitement as you shared more details. He clenched his jaw in annoyance.

“We went to the waterfall, the one by the cliffs,” you smiled, “It was very beautiful.”

“Oh, that’s a good spot,” Lo’ak chimed in with a mischievous grin, “Girls are always impressed when I take them there.” 

“Yeah, sure, Romeo,” Kiri rolled her eyes at him.

Neteyam cleared his throat loud enough to catch your attention.

“I think it’s too cliche. The waterfall,” his voice possessed a hint of annoyance, “He clearly hadn’t put much thought into impressing you.”

“No, it totally depends on who’s taking you there,” Kiri argued.

Lo’ak intervened too, and as the two of them went back and forth about it, Neteyam’s eyes locked on yours. He studied you intensely, trying to read whatever was going on in your mind. You seemed pleased with the outcome of the last night, of the time you spent with another man. He wondered if you had truly moved on from him, and he felt a pang of guilt for secretly wishing that you hadn't. You stiffened under his penetrating gaze, sinking deeper into your seat. 

"How was your hunt?" you hoped to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable tension that had suddenly taken hold.

“Nothing special,” he shrugged, then reached for the pouch on his loincloth, taking something out of it, “Here, I brought this for you.”

Neteyam had made a sweet habit out of bringing you small treasures from his hunts. From simplest rocks to wildflowers, he always admired how you managed to turn them into something beautiful. He thought that the vibrant blue feather he found this morning would look nice braided into your hair.

You accepted it with a smile, admiring the unique pattern. And as he watched you observe it, Neteyam just couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the moment. His usually cheerful expression was clouded with gloominess. He had hoped that you would confide in him about Txi'pu's unwanted advances and ask for his help, but instead, you seemed content with the outcome of the previous night.

“Thank you, Neteyam,” you beamed at him, but he could only manage to give you a faint smile.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam tousled the edges of his loincloth, irritation babbling in his chest, tightening so hard from within, he felt like he could snap any second now. His mother’s words, usually held dear to his heart, sounded like an annoying screech, as she went over the same topic: finding a perfect mate. Somebody on whom he could rely on when he becomes the Olo’eyktan, when the responsibilities are too much to handle. That the poor girl, whoever she is, must be prepared for her role in the upcoming few years, and that unlike Neteyam, she didn’t have her whole life to train. So he was being unfair to her by postponing the decision, leaving her no time to adjust.

His grandmother sat silently not too far, hands occupied with work, as she occasionally nodded to agree with Neytiri’s words. There was nothing new about them, it was the same lecture that has been passed down in generations through Mo’at’s lineage. She was sure that one day Neteyam would pass it down to his own children.

“Are you paying attention?” Neytiri asked again, and Neteyam had to nod to convince her that he did, though he stopped listening a long time ago, “She must be strong, resilient. It is important that you choose wisely. I believe you are mature enough not to be fooled by beauty only -”

Y/N was undeniably beautiful. Was he fooled by her appearance? By the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, those two beaded braids, adorned with some that he had gifted her, framing her face and complementing the yellow of her eyes. By the way her body moved, like the flow of water, gentle and natural, as if every movement was planned out by Eywa herself. He couldn’t deny that sometimes his eyes lingered on her longer than a friend's should. Sometimes, even the way she sat close to him, their thighs pressed against each other and her small delicate shoulder nudging his, could make him too flustered.

“Led not only by her heart but also by her mind,” Neytiri continued.

Surely, you were smart, capable for your age. Neteyam would even dare to say that you were smarter than most of the adults he had known, probably smarter than him too. And you were kind too, with a heart so big that you willingly offered support and loyalty to him, though he had done nothing in return. If it were any other girl, she would have likely cursed him out and refused to acknowledge him for the rest of her life.

“Prepared to protect her clan and her family.”

Would Y/N be a good mate, ready to take on the responsibility of tsakarem? The thought was fleeting but heavy enough to ooze his head with delight. Neteyam took a deep breath to calm himself, feeling overwhelmed by how much the descriptions expanded to you. Neytiri paused, observing him for a moment.

“There is someone already, yes?” she asked, failing to conceal her hopeful tone. 

Neteyam’s eyes snapped back to his mother, as she waited for him to answer. He could only shake his head and mutter an apology before scurrying away. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

No, it was wrong. Not after all those years of rejecting your affections, of not noticing when he crossed the lines and you didn't mind, he couldn't just swoop in now. Neteyam had struggled with this thought for many nights since the rumors of you letting Txi'pu court you began to circulate. You would tell him, right? He was your best friend, he had to be the first to know. But then again, it was probably foolish to believe what others had assumed. He had heard you say it to Lo'ak.

"I'm just taking things as they come," you shrugged, seemingly unbothered. Neteyam wished you would give him more of a reaction, so he could make some observations, "I don't think he and I are there yet."

But how could he believe it when he had seen you with Txi'pu repeatedly - the other day, the day after, and yesterday. He had noticed how you accepted the cut-up fruits from the warrior during communal dinners, held his hand, laughed with him - how it all had become somewhat of a habit. Neteyam struggled to maintain his appearances - he’d rather stay hungry than see you leave early with Txi’pu. Why him? The question knitted his eyebrows together in a deep-wrinkled frown, and he turned in his hammock once more, coaxing another annoyed whine from Lo'ak.

"Could you please stop?" his younger brother whispered, trying not to stir the rest of the family.

With sunrise approaching, it seemed unlikely to get any sleep anyway. Neteyam huffed and rose from his hammock, determined that a walk would clear his head. Maybe he was being selfish, greedy to keep you all to himself. But the idea of you being courted by someone else didn’t seem fair, especially when he had rejected everyone, every potential suitor suggested by his mother. Secretly, Neteyam wished that she would say your name, and then he would give her a sign that he wasn’t opposed to mating with you. But was it really unfair? After all, he never really gave you a chance.

His feet carried him away, making a few laps around the village. People were beginning to stir, emerging from their homes to begin their daily chores. Neteyam headed to the camp, intending to start his training early. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard your name.

Txi’pu and his friend were standing in front of the training hut, grinning widely and snickering about something. About someone. Neteyam hesitated to reveal himself, but his curiosity got the best of him, and he moved closer, trying to eavesdrop. The camp was beginning to get busy with the morning session, and just when Neteyam heard Txi'pu's malicious words about you, rage surged through him. In a split second, he made a decision. The rest was just as rushed, a heated fight took place between the two men.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You, go to Tsahik, now,” Jake ordered to Txi’pu with a scowl, then turned to you with a softened expression, “Y/N, please take care of this knucklehead,” he gestured to his son.

You nodded, hunching slightly, disappointment evident in your demeanor. You weren't sure how you felt when you first saw Neteyam on top of Txi’pu, punching him too hard for it to be considered a part of the training. Luckily, Jake was there, pulling his oldest son away from the other warrior before bigger damage was done.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Neteyam sighed.

“You do not look sorry,” Jake scoffed, “So stop with the lying, and go get cleaned up. We will talk about this later.”

Similar to Neteyam, Txi’pu refused to meet your eyes. He looked guilty, even more so than Neteyam. You wondered what had caused their fight, the thought consuming you so much that you almost missed Neteyam walking away from you. Anger began to bubble up inside you at the lack of information. It wouldn't have surprised you if it were Lo’ak, but Neteyam rarely resorted to using his fists.

“What happened?” you asked again, catching up to Neteyam. 

But he only shook his head, refusing to reveal the reason. As the two of you headed into his family hut, you gently shoved him to sit down and began shuffling through his mother's baskets. You quickly settled on picking out one of the healing balms, the one that usually stung the most. You were furious. For not telling you what had happened, for getting hurt, for attacking Txi'pu; that’s not who he was. Careless, reactive.

“Just say it,” he gritted through his teeth, feeling the cut above his brow throb under your fingers, “I can feel that you’re mad at me.” "You shouldn't have attacked him like that," you replied, your voice laced with irritation. More than anything, you hated when Neteyam got hurt.

“He deserved it.”

"That's not the point," you replied sternly. "This isn't like you. You don't go around punching people."

“Why him?” his voice cut harshly through the air, his amber eyes searching yours desperately, “Out of all people, why would you give yourself to him?”

“What?” you frowned, “I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s what he’s telling everyone,” Neteyam rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t believe you. You shook your head, partly to convince him you were telling the truth, partly denying the fact that he believed somebody else over you.

How could he truly think you would do that? Knowing how much you valued the sacred bond, how could you, a woman he had grown up with and seemed to know through and through, give herself to a man with whom she had spent only a mere of two weeks. Without feelings, or even proper courting? And even if it was true, wasn’t he supposed to support you regardless of what you did? The thought stung, bringing anger into your voice.

“And what if I had given myself to him? It is none of your concern,” you snapped, pulling away from him with a sharpness that left him reeling. Your words were meant to wound, to protect Txi’pu and to strike back at Neteyam, “You had no right to attack him like that.”

“But I had,” he hissed, frustrated with how oblivious you were at reading his actions, “I have every right to make a call, when you can’t.”

“That’s not fair,” you shook your head firmly, as if denying his words, “You don’t get to act possessive over me.”

Neteyam retreated slightly. Did he reveal too much? He had always been aware of the deep-seated feeling in his chest that riled up every time he saw you but had never dared to give it a name. He couldn’t let you recognize it before he’d bring himself to confront it first.

“Do you think I did this for you? I am the future Olo’eyktan, and it is my duty as a leader and a warrior to keep skxawngs like him in tact,” he retorted, his voice dripping with venom, “I am not some lovesick puppy.”

You stared at him in bewilderment, struggling to reconcile this angry, unfamiliar version of Neteyam with the man you thought you knew like the back of your hand. His face was masked with rage, as he took it out on you for a reason that had still remained unclear. ‘Lovesick puppy,’ did he mean you?

"Got it," you spat out.You knew better than this - to trust that he wouldn’t hold your feelings for him against you one day.

“I didn’t mean to -” he regretted immediately, grasping at your hand but you yanked it away from his grip and stormed off.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Bro, what’s wrong with you? Dad looked like he was going to skin you,” Lo’ak plopped down next to Neteyam.

The older brother sat defeated on the cliff, feet dangling from the abrupt edge mindlessly. He stared out into the distance, the sun setting over the rainforest. 

“I don’t regret it, Txi’pu is disgusting,” Neteyam spat out, anger still lingering in his voice. 

“What did he do?”

Lo’ak pushed for answers, since the reason for the fight was still unknown. When the fight was broken off in front of the other warriors, Neteyam refused to voice it. He didn’t want to repeat the nasty words spoken by Txi’pu when you were there and embarrass you in front of the others, even worse, he didn’t want to hurt you. Neteyam didn’t care enough to defend himself, didn’t care for the scolding he got from his father after that. Frankly, he didn’t regret attacking Txi’pu at all, drawing blood felt good. But his father pressed, knowing exactly how to prod the words out of his oldest son. Jake decided not to intervene in the matters of your friendship then, he only advised his son to be mature and clean up his own mess. 

“He was saying these things about Y/N, and I couldn’t just let it go,” Neteyam gulped, his fists clenching in anger, “He told his friends that she gave herself to him without a Tsaheylu. That after years of pining for me, he had finally ‘cured’ her... some shit like that.” 

“What an asshole,” Lo’ak sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah…”

Both brothers sat there for a moment, giving each other the space to process their conversation. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the wind through the vines and the distant calls of the banshees. Eventually, Lo’ak decided to break the silence once more.

“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but you shouldn’t have caused a scene like that. You got yourself into so much trouble.”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam turned to look at him, a little frustrated, “It was about Y/N. How could I let it slide?”

“No, I know, I agree,” his little brother was quick to raise his palms in the air to show he was still on his side, “I’m just saying, you never act like that. Maybe the jealousy got the better of you.”

“I am not jealous,” Neteyam protested, “I just can’t stand it that she chose to spend time with some asshole and then got herself hurt.”

“It’s her life, she can make her own choices,” Lo'ak placed a comforting hand on Neteyam's shoulder. He could sense that his brother was battling with something deep within himself, that the boundaries were blurring. 

“But he doesn’t deserve her.”

“And you do?” Lo’ak asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“W-what?” Neteyam scoffed, standing up to show he was done with the conversation, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay if it took you so long to realize. Just don’t make her wait any longer,” Lo’ak shouted after Neteyam, who was already walking away.

Neteyam's eyes widened with a sudden realization. It was as if Lo'ak's advice had struck the exact spot in his mind that had been bothering him for days, offering a simple solution to his inner turmoil. It was like medicine to his aching soul, and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Txi’pu's apology came quickly but lacked any genuine remorse. It was as if he had been forced into it, and by the look on his face, you suspected that he had been, most likely by Jake. The thought of the Olo’eyktan having to waste his time like that and hear about the stupid rumors was humiliating. Neteyam, on the other hand, took his time, letting you cool off, while he would figure out his feelings. Though he hadn’t suspected that the lack of his apology drew a distance between you that you were previously unfamiliar with. He’d steal glances at you during the dinners but that was it. Your best friend, the man you have been in love with, didn’t feel like a safe person anymore. 

He was confused about it too. Couldn't tell if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, or if he was genuinely blind to how much he used to relish in your presence. He gazed from afar with a longing look as you sat, looking pretty as ever. Your eyebrows were knitted in a gentle frown, eyelids halfway closed, as you huffed air out of your plump lips. He couldn't help but steal another glance in your direction, as he watched your head pull back with a loud whimper, your mother's hands quickly braiding another section of your hair, gripping tightly as you struggled to keep your neck straight. It would almost make him laugh at the way you reacted to pain, if he hadn't been so distracted by how pretty you looked.

“Stop gawking,” Lo’ak nudged him with an eye roll, “Just apologize already. It’s been days.”

Neteyam shook off his distracting thoughts, but the knife he was supposed to be sharpening remained as blunt as his mind, struggling to keep up with whatever Lo'ak was saying to him.

He wished he could just go back in time and stop himself from lashing out at you, from taking his frustrations out on the one person he cared about the most. He regretted pressing on the wound in your heart that had been bleeding for him for years, hurting you in the place where it hurt the most. The distance between you two had become unbearable, but he couldn't bring himself to close it. It felt different this time. Throughout all the years of your friendship, you had never fought like this. You had always been there for each other, through thick and thin. Misunderstandings were usually quickly resolved with sincere apologies. But the venomous words that had spilled out of him due to jealousy had stung like no other, ‘I am not some lovesick puppy.’

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam’s voice quievered, “Can you talk to her for me? She might listen to you.”

“Really, dude?” Lo’ak raised an eyebrow at him, “You want me to apologize for you?”

“No, I don't want you to apologize for me,” Neteyam frowned, already getting irritated, “Just make her talk to me, please.”

“Fine, but you owe me,” Lo’ak stood up abruptly, with a huff. Neteyam’s eyes widened at his sudden movement.

“Wait, are you going right now?”

Lo'ak gave a nonchalant shrug as he glanced in your direction, still seated in front of your mother. Neteyam thought it would be too humiliating to watch his brother beg for your attention while he was right there. You would think him as pathetic, a mighty warrior afraid to approach his friend of fifteen years.

“But she’s busy,” Neteyam's voice trailed off, eyes following as Lo’ak jogged over to you.

He watched the way Lo’ak greeted your mother with respect and earned a kind smile from her. You took your time to grant him your attention, tail swishing lazily from side to side, while Lo’ak made small talk. Neteyam stiffened once your eyes landed on him with a newfound harshness. He had never seen it from you before, and he could feel his heart sink in his chest. 

What was Lo’ak telling you? Neteyam strained his ears to try to catch some of the conversation, but the soft murmur of your voices made it impossible. All he could do was pray that the little shrug you gave was meant to be for him, a chance to let him explain himself.

“I will be tracking a Vayätu after the eclipse. If he wants to apologize, he can help me first,” Lo’ak relayed your message to Neteyam.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Your ears perked up at the faint rustling sound, eyes already scanning the area, hunched over from behind the thick bushes. The mysterious spell was casted over the forest with the presence of Vayätu, a creature just as ethereal as it appeared. You felt it was near, just like Eywa, lingering somewhere in the dark. The bioluminescent shimmered over its sleek iridescent fur, concealing the creature, but the two sets of prominent yellow eyes stood out in the densest part of the forest.

Among your clan, Vayätu was one of the most valuable creations of Eywa. An animal rarely shown in the forests of Pandora, that despite its incredible speed and agility, was delicate, easy to scare away. Its only defense was disappearing into the foliage, blending with the surroundings. If a Vayätu got hurt once, it would never return to the same area. 

Then there was the medicine that came with it. Deep within its long neck, the creature had a gland producing thick, viscous substance highly prized for its medicinal property, used to ease the pain for treating big wounds, or fed to women before giving birth. Retracting the liquid wasn’t harmful to the animal, similar to the way your eyes would produce tears when crying, but there was a certain routine to it. Requiring at least two hunters, one of which would hold the animal down, while the other one would gather the substance. 

You stiffened immediately, hand reaching for your leather rope - a signal for Neteyam to prepare for the attack. Simple. You had done this before once, worked perfectly together, and then couldn’t stop laughing as the adrenaline rushed through your blood, jumping through the trees to hurry back home and announce your victory. But it seemed like at that moment, as he was kneeling beside you staring up at your profile, Neteyam had forgotten everything he knew. The apology, along with the confession he had been crafting carefully for days now, were ready on the tip of his tongue. He had to wait for the right moment.

Your skin was adorned with bioluminescent freckles that resembled a star constellation, just like the ones he used to stare at with his father on clear nights. Your eyes glowed softly, narrowed as if concentrating on something in the distance, and Neteyam was too distracted to pick up on it. He had seen you many times from many angles before, yet he couldn't help but be captivated by the way you tensed up, the definition of your lean, delicate arms, and the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed quietly and steadily.

Neteyam was so entranced by the way your body moved that he didn't notice when you jumped forward, your form confident as you chased a shadow. His attention was quickly drawn to the two sets of yellow eyes piercing through the darkness, before disappearing in an instant. He realized that he had missed the signal to attack first.

The forest came alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and cracking branches, as you ran after the Vayätu, hot on its tail. But the extra set of legs gave the creature an advantage, it was faster, putting a prominent distance between you. Frustration bubbled within you at the realization that you were alone in the chase. Where the hell was Neteyam? You were not set for this; speed wasn’t your strength. That was Neteyam’s part, you were better at sneaking. 

“Neteyam!” you called out loudly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

You pushed harder, heart racing, as you refused to let the creature out of your sight, because once you did, you would never see it again. Neteyam caught up then, quick on his feet, as he articulated through the trees. He felt guilty for getting distracted, he had to prove himself to be helpful for you.

You, you, you. You were all that filled his mind. With determination, Neteyam lunged forward, his lean muscular body fluidly navigating through the dense undergrowth of the forest. His eyes remained fixated on the Vayätu up head, never losing sight of his target as he closed in on the ethereal creature. With a sudden burst of speed, he leaped towards it, his arms outstretched as he managed to tackle it to the ground.

You were still a few paces behind, your blood pumped with adrenaline, as you watched the scene unfold. Quickly, while Neteyam was still holding the animal down, you dropped to your knees right next to them. 

“Where the hell have you been?” you hissed angrily, your eyes already darting all over the trembling creature.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted,” he mumbled. You only shook your head, dismissing his apology.

Elderly often instructed young hunters to calm their prey, make them feel safe and connected to Eywa. Following their advice, you reached to gently stroke the creature’s neck, whispering soft prayers to soothe its fear. Neteyam’s gaze was glued to you, as if something intimate and intricate was happening, something that only the two of you could comprehend.

“Okay, get ready to apply more pressure,” you warned, before taking out your wooden flask, crafted out of the root of the Home Tree.

Neteyam only nodded, watching the way you worked. The creature trembled under your touch, but his grip was unyielding, letting you collect the precious liquid and gently store it away. With a pat on his arm, you signaled for him to release the animal. Neteyam leaned back, panting heavily as the Vayätu sprang to its feet, shaking its head and snorting in frustration before darting away into the darkness.

Both of you stood up and remained quiet for a moment, as he wiped away the sweat and grime clinging to his skin. You were too covered in dirt, body exhausted from the chase. Yet, the triumph took over you once the realization that you had been successful settled in. A small smile crept onto your face.

"Nice work," you spoke quietly, “Even though you almost snoozed.”

He chuckled weakly, a little embarrassed. Amber eyes scanned your face, tracing the now smudged patterns of yellow paint. 

“Let’s wash off,” he offered.

The tension slipped right back in and hung heavily between the two of you, as you walked ahead, letting Neteyam trail after you. Navigating through the dark forest was easy, you had taken this way to the pond many times before. There was no need to check if Neteyam was still following, you knew he was. He wouldn’t let this opportunity slide, not after sending Lo’ak to talk to you. You weren’t going to deny it - you missed Neteyam terribly, and a part of you had hoped that the apology would be sincere enough to soothe the pain left by his words. 

The water was still under the shimmering moonlight, creating a perfect mirror of its surroundings. You carefully removed your belt, ensuring that the items in the pouch didn't spill, and placed it on the ground. Neteyam followed your lead and quietly put down his weapons.

“You wanted to talk,” you began first, the harshness returning to your voice.

Sure, it was disappointing, the way things turned out with Txi’pu. You couldn’t help but pity yourself for being played by the first guy you decided to give a chance to. The thought of him holding your hand now seemed disgusting, sent shivers down your spine. But it was easy to dismiss it because for the past week, the sting left from Neteyam’s words was much worse. You wanted it to go away, desperately.

“Y/N… I am so sorry, I truly am,” Neteyam took a long breath, forcing you to look at him, “I wish I could take back everything I said.”

"Don't apologize if it's how you really feel, Neteyam," you replied, your voice catching in your throat. "I just wish I had known sooner, so I would stop acting like a ‘lovesick puppy’ around you."

“No, no, I didn’t mean it,” he raised his palms in the air, as if to stop you, “I didn’t even think. I only spoke out of jealousy.”

“Jealousy?” you scoffed in disbelief. Did he really try to lie his way into forgiveness? “Why would you ever be jealous?”

Neteyam sighed and took a few steps closer to you. Almost too close. Of course, as friends, you had been even at a closer approximation before, but there was something different about it now. Too intimate, like no one else was supposed to see it. Your eyes flickered up to his face.

"Because you gave a chance to somebody else, and... I hated it," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seeing you hold his hand instead of mine, laugh at his jokes, accept his gifts...it hurt me, more than I care to admit. Do you understand?"

You blinked in confusion, though your heart raced at the mere possibility that he was hinting at what you had hoped for a long time. Neteyam waited for you to answer his question, but when you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out. Then you felt him reach for your hand, long fingers intertwining delicately with yours. Goosebumps covered your skin in an instant.

“Every time my parents talked about choosing a mate, I got frustrated because all I could see was your face… you by my side. And I was so confused, I didn’t know what it meant back then, but now I do,” words spilled out of him with sincerity, “I like you more than a friend, Y/N. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.” “’s better late than never, right?” you attempted a faint smile with a croaky voice, though your heart was racing like crazy.

Then, as he leaned in, every thought seemed to wash away, and all you could focus on was him.

“Can I just..?” he trailed off, his arms open for you.

You nodded, stepping into his embrace. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply, savoring your scent. He had missed you so much and had been dreaming of holding you in his arms ever since the fight. All he wanted was to keep his arms around you, both gentle and strong at the same time. And sweet like honey, his voice dripped.

“I see you, Y/N.”

You pulled away, searching for his face.

“Can I kiss you?” his voice trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and your own heart skipped a beat at the question. 

You could only stare back, frozen, as Neteyam’s fingers brushed hesitantly against your face. He leaned in and waited for you to push him away, but once he was sure you wouldn’t, his lips ghosted over yours. A beat, and with a shaky breath, he pulled you closer. You surrendered to the feeling immediately, hands finding their way to his chest, trying to touch, feel every part of him, just to convince yourself this was real. With a soft gasp, your tongues intertwined, his taste like honey, sweet and intoxicating, marked you as his own.

The kiss broke, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I should have waited for your permission."

You shook your head weakly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. All you knew was that you wanted more.

"Don't be sorry," you nuzzled his face with your own, "I...I wanted this for a long time."

Neteyam felt like his heart couldn’t take it anymore. He was lightheaded, intoxicated by you. By the way your lips tasted, by your scent, by the feeling of your hands on him. He kissed you again, more desperately this time, pushing you back slightly, stepping into the the pond. You followed him without a word, the water lapping at your ankles.

The water was cool around you, causing a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure, maybe it was just Neteyam. He pulled you closer, dipping the two of you into the water half to your waist. There was only one thing on his mind - he needed to take care of you, wash away the stress and the tiredness he had caused, and make up for it with his love. 

You closed your eyes, surrendering yourself to his embrace, as he began to run his hands over your back, gently massaging your shoulders and arms. Some of the water he cupped had dripped over your back, relaxing away all of the tension in your body. You could feel yourself leaning onto him more, as if your knees were ready to give out any second now.

Neteyam’s hands continued to roam all over your body, exploring every curve he never had the chance to touch before. Everything that he had dreamed about was right there, under the pads of his fingers. He scooped another handful of water, bringing it to your face this time, washing away the dirt and the traces of paint off your face. You let out a sigh of pleasure, when his thumb grazed the blue stripe over your cheekbone. 

His hands then strayed lower and lower, found their way to your hips and lingered there. He couldn’t move, thumbs pressed into your skin, leaving hot traces. You could feel the heat building in your chore, the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you again, his tongue probing gently at your lips. You opened your mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and you felt a rush of heat flow through your body.

“Neteyam…” you sighed softly, your hands reaching for his loincloth, tugging at it weakly.

“Yes?” he asked, as he dipped his head to kiss your neck.

“I want you,” you managed to let out, hand reaching lower to stroke over his length. He pressed into your palm with a groan.

“I want you too,” he planted another kiss to your neck, “But we have to wait…”

“What? No,” you shook your head weakly.

“Mhm, yes… I have to court you first,” he spoke in between short breaths he took, mouth never leaving that sensitive spot on your neck, “Do it properly. Earn your affections.”

“Neteyam, you know you had me all this time,” you chuckled weakly.

His chest heaved as he pulled away slightly, his hands still cradling your cheeks. He looked deeply into your eyes, a small smile curling his lips as he studied your flushed face for a moment.

“I want to do this right, Y/N, will you let me?” he asked softly, like he had already planned out the whole thing in his head.

Butterflies churned in your stomach, and you nodded, your own lips stretching into a lovesick grin. He planted another gentle kiss on your forehead.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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[riaki]

moneyload | satoru gojo x reader (implied fem)

this is for @satoruoo + everyone who’s tired of my angst | 1k wc

satoru likes spoiling you.

no— like would be the world's greatest understatement. satoru feels about spoiling you the way he feels about you— he doesn’t just like you, he‘s utterly enamored with you. if you asked, he'd move mountains for you. or give up a portion of his candy; both are equitable in his bright eyes. he loves you so much that he'd skip a basketball session with suguru or leave in the middle of the fight to throw the leftover scraps of a cursed spirit to whoever was unlucky enough to be there at the time; you're more important. you've always been.

yeah, that’s gotta be it. a perfect way to paint his feelings for you on a pure canvas brightened by your smile, light as a feather and lively as the sun. and you're completely deserving, he thinks— you, who's always been so patient and kind with him.

as such, he thinks it’s a crime to waste such a beautiful figure on things less than lavish dress and delicate jewelry; but to be honest, he thinks you could don a potato sack and still make it look exquisite. nevertheless, each time you protest when he drapes another dainty necklace glittering with gems cut from a million-dollar wallet and 58 facets (all the reasons he loves you— that's what he calls them.), he shushes you promptly with a swift, sweet kiss; you get a noseful of his expensive cologne every time he sidles up to you and gets comfortable. which, for the record, is quite often.

out of everything he gets you; bouquets of beautiful speckled flowers that look as if a painter dumped their entire palette of pastels and pretties onto the petals, sweet chocolates dark with the tiniest amount of cherry liquor in the center ("i don't need them— i already get drunk off of you, sweetheart!"), fragrant perfume or the latest comfortable clothing that catches his eye (this one's less common. he likes it better when you're only in his clothes.), jewelry is the one he always finds his way back to the most often.

why? well, if you ask him— there's nothing better than being sprawled on your couch with his head in your lap, nuzzling into your warm hand as he catches a whiff of the perfume he gifted you last week paired with the reddest rose he could find on your wrist. your hands card through his hair, and he uses the opportunity to catch your arm before you can move any further, giving you a smug grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

(it's a little embarrassing the amount of times you've thought he was going to propose from that alone.)

you'll open it, and it'll be a pretty silver necklace that matches the one around his neck, or a gold ring with ornate details that he slips onto your fingers after taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a smile and a laugh. sometimes it's a bracelet adorned with rich jewels the color of your eyes; maybe something rose quartz to represent the flush on his cheeks you always seem to elicit or a marigold yellow to show the pure joy he gets from being around you. if you ask him about it, he'll just say, "i wasn't kidding when i said i get drunk off of you, baby." with a boyish giggle that's far too charming to not have been used in his younger years to get his way and a sweet little wink of an afterthought that has your heart racing.

on the occasions when the gift is far less... appropriate, you'll always sigh and chastise him with a shake of your head because you both know the fabric will be torn to shreds in a matter of a few minutes. he does it anyway, though. he's always been a little bit of a brat in that sense.

whatever it ends up as, satoru absolutely adores seeing your reactions; the cute flush on your cheeks when you accept it with a little thanks and a kiss to his cheek, leaning forward on the tips of your toes because he's too tall for his own good. maybe even to hook a finger around the bridge of his sunglasses for lips to lips, if he's lucky. of course, he knows he doesn't have to buy your affection— you've made that abundantly clear in moments he doesn't like to think about as anything more than vulnerability when he's worn out, but there's just something about you that makes him want to pile it on. he's always had more money than he knows what to do with, anyway.

and maybe, just maybe— one day he'll dare to hope for a future past school hallways, flattering dresses and skirts or sneaky kisses when he's a little sweaty and his jacket is in your arms and you're on the bleachers, hijacking shoko's pack of cigarettes while the squeak of shoes on the gym floor and the sound of a basketball rattling in the hoop fills your ears. past nights when you're curled up in his arms and he can comfortably rest his head in the crook of your neck, tucked away where it always should be (and always will be).

he'll hope for days when he gets to wake up to you by his side, a silver band with so much more meaning than the fifth one he's given you that week on your ring finger and a matching one on his own, because satoru loves you so much that he'd empty out the vaults of a bank just to make you smile at him. not in the hollow way his father always had at home, or in the obligatory resolute smiles of the servants on his estate, but in a genuine way; a way no one else (except his mom) had ever come close to because if he sold everything he ever had for you, his world would still be right in front of him, holding his hands and kissing his face in spontaneous bursts of love, like shooting stars dancing across his cheeks as a way of thanks.

...so, maybe satoru likes spoiling you so much because you always seem to return tenfold.

if u looked at my search history you'd see 'how many cuts does a diamond have' and 'what are the chocolates with alcohol in them called' my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[imfoive]

Trophy Husband - Chapter 3

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW mdni Warnings: mentions of extramarital affairs, implied masturbation, cursing, drinking, physical violence, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.4k A/N: We're really getting into this story oof, I was so excited to share this chapter! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3 ───────────────────

Hyunjin had momentarily forgotten that, despite finding a peculiar sense of belonging in his… unconventional marriage, not everyone would suddenly see him in a new light. 

The labels that had followed him since his teenage years weren’t so easily erased.

Especially seeing these young women flocking around him, their lashes fluttering, lips curling into smiles he would have once indulged in. Perhaps just to pass the time. It was then he realized, his reputation still clung to him.

His eyes swept across the room and locked onto his wife, Y/N. The woman he was supposedly in love with. The supposed emotions these women surrounding him were clearly aware of, yet seemed to disregard, as they shamelessly flirted with him. Their fingers brushed his arm, their laughter filled the space between, swatting at him playfully as they giggled at his remarks that weren’t truly all that amusing.

Their presence here made sense, though. 

Who would truly believe that a womanizer like himself had finally been tamed? 

Such stories weren’t common in their circle, everyone always falling back into their old habits. Maybe they expected it from him. These women, drawn to him even more so because he was suddenly “off-limits”. If it was some other day, he would have been amused, he would have flirted back.

If it was even the day before his wife had suddenly opened his eyes to emotions he didn’t know he had, he would have humored all these fake personalities. 

But tonight, his gaze was fixed elsewhere. It lingered on Y/N, who stood with their mothers and a growing circle of friends, reintroduced to her over the course of the evening.

They were at a small gathering, though small was an understatement because everyone seemed to be here. His father had thrown this celebration for a business success and, as an afterthought, to celebrate the newlyweds. Even though it had been months since the wedding, they were still treated as if they had just tied the knot. Maybe that was just an excuse to make sure his cunning wife would show up, despite knowing she’d find a way to slither out of attending otherwise.

   “—Does Y/N really meet your expectations?” 

The question snapped Hyunjin back to a conversation he hadn’t been paying any particular attention to. His eyes flicked to the woman who had asked it, now standing just an arm’s length away.

He didn’t realize the group of women that had surrounded him had shrunk. Either they’d grown tired of his indifference or given up trying to compete for his attention. Though, Hyunjin guessed it was the absence of his usually flirtatious, usually charming persona that drove them away.

All but this woman. She was someone he recognized from his circle of friends, but one he’d never taken the time to get to know. It wasn’t her lone presence that caught him off guard. Rather, it was the ridiculousness of whatever she had just asked that made him blink in surprise.

He knew what she was insinuating. With her sultry tone and the curve of her lips that pulled into a smirk, he knew what she meant. As if she had convinced herself that he was going to find the next empty room and have his way with her. 

It wasn’t uncommon. Affairs, mistresses, extramarital flings. Secrets kept under wraps, usually existing between couples who were nothing more than a business arrangement.

And even if his marriage was basically that. It was different. The marriage between Hwang Hyunjin and Y/N Yeom was dripping with romantic tales no one expected from him. He had settled down for her, a true romeo that was rare in their elite class. 

Even if all of it was a ruse. A made-up story that was carved into stone to make it the truth. 

Yet here she stood, the daughter of some other high-class entrepreneur that Hyunjin never cared enough to memorize, suggesting he undo the months of character development he had curated. As if he was such a loose man that he would easily be tempted by a pretty face and seductive eyes.

Hyunjin lowered his gaze to hide the annoyance that flickered in his eyes before looking up at her again.

   “You must think of me as a joke.” His words came out sharper than intended, though deep down he knew he meant it.

For a moment her expression faltered, confused by his reaction. Confused as to why he was the one acting different. As if her question hadn’t disrespected his sham marriage, her touch on his arm hadn’t crossed a line.

Before Hyunjin could say anything further, or before she could continue her advances, a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, breaking the tension.

   “There you are.” His brother’s voice came out smoothly, his actions even smoother as he picked up a flute of champagne from one of the servers passing by, handing it over to the young woman that stood before them.

   “You look like you need a refill.” He chuckled, glancing at her empty glass.

Her attention immediately shifted. The stunned expression on her face melted as she turned toward the older Hwang brother.

It was a common occurrence between the brothers. When Hwang Hyunsoo entered the room, everyone would instantly fall into his orbit. There was a charm about him that drew you close. A few simple words, a smile that easily captured whoever he was surrounded by. 

Maybe being a smooth-talker was a familial trait, seeing that both Hwangs were exceptional at it. However, right now, Hyunjin furrowed his brows with confusion anew, wondering why he was relieved that his brother had decided to intrude with his presence. 

   “Your wife is looking for you.” Hyunsoo chuckled, patting lightly at the younger brother’s arm.

The taller, younger brother’s eyes darted over Hyunsoo’s shoulder, settling on the form of his wife he had been stealing glimpses of. He was slightly surprised she was asking about him. Usually in such events, Y/N Yeom did not even spare a glance toward Hyunjin or the direction of the cliques he stood amongst. 

Although all those times in the past, they weren’t a couple, their names not attached to one another. 

Hyunjin nodded, sparing a final glance toward the woman who stood between them.

As the trophy husband approached Y/N and the new group she was standing with, his arm naturally slid around her waist. He felt her tense immediately at the contact, but he only tightened his grip slightly, a satisfied smile curling on his lips as his gaze flicked to the two men she was conversing with. He noticed the surprised glance Y/N shot toward him. Probably more from the suddenness of his approach than anything else.

   “Good evening gentlemen.” Hyunjin greeted the two men he too had been acquainted with.

The conversation flowed with ease, but even amidst the small talk, Hyunjin’s attention remained on Y/N. Rather at her form that relaxed against him, and the feel of her in his arms suddenly became his sole focus. He was slightly overwhelmed, trying to juggle the chatter around him while being keenly aware of her body pressed against his.

Y/N, for her part, could feel the quick hammering of Hyunjin’s heart against her back. She tilted her head slightly, studying the furrow in his brow as he listened to the men’s banter. He seemed bothered, and she easily assumed it was the business talk that was frustrating him. But of course, the thoughts swirling in his mind were far from anything related to business.

   “If you gentlemen will excuse us, we’re going to make our rounds to the other end of the hall.” Y/N politely excused, her social smile radiating under the bright lights.

Hyunjin gave a slight nod in acknowledgment as they made their way through the crowd, greeting even more acquaintances as they passed. It wasn’t until they exchanged forced pleasantries with a third businessman that Hyunjin sighed with slight frustration, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the balcony doors.

   “This way.” His fingers naturally gripped at her wrist, tugging with a slight urgency, trying to avoid getting stopped yet again.

The fresh evening air was a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the event halls. They stepped onto the balcony, and Hyunjin quietly closed the door behind them. Y/N leaned against the stone railing, gazing out over the dark, sprawling gardens. She exhaled deeply, the cool breeze ruffling her hair.

   “Damn, should’ve grabbed some drinks on the way.” Hyunjin commented, casually tossing his dark blazer around her shoulders to protect her from the evening chill.

An action that doesn’t even phase his wife. As if she was used to it. Y/N glanced at him as he mirrored her stance, his back resting against the railing.

   “Feeling better?” He asked, his voice casual.

Except his question made her furrow her brows in confusion.

   “Didn’t you need the breath of fresh air?” 

Hyunjin blinked, slightly taken aback by her question

   “No…I thought you did. Isn’t that why you lied about greeting other people back there?” He tilted his head, a note of his own confusion in his voice. 

   “—Wasn’t it because you needed to talk to me?” He added.

Y/N straightened, glancing over his puzzled expression, raising an eyebrow.

   “I lied because you came to me, didn’t you need to speak to me?”

   “You’re the one who called me!” Hyunjin exclaimed, head slightly reeling from the circles their conversation was going in.

   “And why would I call you?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow.

The dark-haired man was going to argue that his brother had told him so. But then it hit him. 

His brother lied. 

Hwang Hyunsoo had given him an excuse to leave before he said something harsh to that young lady back there. The older brother was yet again, saving him from embarrassing himself.

Hyunjin sighed, his shoulders dropping as he released the tension in his posture. 

   “God, I have a headache.” He muttered under his breath instead, though Y/N didn’t seem to hear him. She scoffed.

   “And besides, you seemed busy entertaining those women back there, I wouldn’t have called even if I wanted.” She shot him a glance. 

   “Must’ve been a real pain to tear yourself away and come find me.”

Her words were meant as a jab, but instead of feeling offended, Hyunjin couldn’t suppress the smug grin that tugged at his lips. The supposed headache he was getting, was suddenly forgotten. 

   “You’ve been watching me?” His smile widened, his amusement evident.

   “I had to. Every time some girl threw herself at you, my mother was breathing down my neck, telling me to keep you in check.” Y/N rolled her eyes in response, annoyed all over again.

Hyunjin chuckled, the tension between them easing. 

   “I’ll duck the next time some girl throws herself at me then.” His eyes crinkled with his laughter. 

His stupid answer only made her groan, unamused as she rolled her eyes again.

The silence settled between them as his laughter died down, eyes following hers to peer over the railing and watch the darkness before them.

The trophy husband suddenly glanced over at her with a fondness that was quickly becoming impossible to suppress. Watching as she pulled his blazer tighter around her body, the evening chill brought goosebumps and slight shivers.

Yet, as the two of them looked out to the night sky, it felt blissful.

────────────────────────

Y/N Yeom might have eased around Hyunjin, comfortable in the titles of “husband and wife”, considering him as business-partner, perhaps a friend even, in their strange dynamic, but that didn’t change how others viewed him. And he had gotten a taste of it that evening of his father’s party.

The trophy husband had been so preoccupied with following Y/N’s advice, avoiding his father-in-law, dodging the old man’s request for a “friendly chat”, that he’d almost overlooked her insufferable cousin. 

The same cousin who apparently lived in the same complex as them, which Hyunjin wasn’t aware of until he was standing in the lobby in the cousin’s presence. The air between them, already hostile.

The last time Hyunjin had seen him was at that same party a few weeks back. Although they exchanged brief greetings, it was clear that Y/N despised him and didn’t let them linger in his presence longer than needed.

He could see why she didn’t like him.

Alex Yeom had always been a smug asshole. He made questionable choices behind closed doors but was a good businessman. If people knew about his unsavory habits, they’d undoubtedly prefer the new Yeom son-in-law over him.

But Hyunjin did not care. He wasn’t interested in any of that.

Now, as Alex eyed him with something devious clearly brewing in his mind, Hyunjin stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to appear indifferent.

   “I thought Y/N would’ve put you on a leash by now. But seeing you wandering around idly, I guess even she’s failed at that.” Alex said with a mocking laugh that already grated on Hyunjin’s nerves.

But he stayed silent, keeping himself calm. And seeing that the remark had no effect on Hyunjin who stood nonchalant, the cousin continued to retort with nonsense.

   “Must be nice, freeloading off your wife?” Alex sneered, shaking his head as he recalled the women who surrounded his new brother-in-law the last time they met.

   “You get to play your part of the playboy while you're at it too. I’d say you’re living up to your reputation. And they told me to worry about you.” He was openly laughing now, a bitterness in his words.

Hyunjin’s lips barely twitched. But he kept himself composed. He was no stranger to insults, most of them came from his own family anyways.

But here stood this fool, spewing out hollow jabs in efforts to get a rise out of him.

Instead, the new cousin-in-law kept his hands in his pockets, but his posture was tight. Every muscle in his body wound up like a spring. A part of him nudged to retaliate, but he remained still. Alex’s mocking words scraped at his nerves, but he wouldn't let this idiot see it.

At least he had that in common with Y/N. 

Instead, Hyunjin sighed, his mouth opening to deliver a bored “sure” or something equally dismissive, anything to make the incessant chatter stop.

Yet even before the words could leave his lips, a sharp, resonant thud shattered the fragile tension in the lobby. Y/N’s form had almost flown between them, her face contorted with a mix of anger and a glint of something else. Without a word, her leg snapped up in one swift motion, landing a hard, kick to Alex’s shin.

An action that made Hyunjin flinch, while Alex let out a sharp hiss. The younger cousin’s eyes immediately widened in shock, and he let out a pained groan, hopping on one foot as he clutched his leg. 

   “What the fuck—” He began, but Y/N cut him off with a sharp, icy glare.

   “Oh? Was it you, Alex? I thought a dog had snuck in, given all the barking I was hearing.” She said, her voice dripping with feigned surprise.

Hyunjin blinked, caught off guard—not only by her sudden appearance, but by the violence of her actions. 

This was a side of Y/N he had never seen before. An unexpected side.

Cold. Uncompromising.

Alex staggered back, rubbing his shin as he glared at her. 

   “H-how can you do this out in the open?” He grunted, his eyes flicking nervously toward a stunned Hyunjin and then around to the few residents that watched the scene unfold.

   “Well, you were being loudly disrespectful to my husband, weren’t you? Where’s your manners? I’m sure your mother had taught them to you.” Y/N retorted, shrugging nonchalantly as if the stares of others didn’t bother her at all. 

Her words hung in the air like a slap. Alex opened his mouth to protest, the younger cousin falling silent as he realized his response would perhaps lead to nothing but his further humiliation.

Y/N turned her attention back to Hyunjin, her gaze softening but her grip on his wrist tight. It was then that Hyunjin noticed the firm hold she had on him. Something he hadn’t even realized until now.

   “Let’s go.” Her tone was calm, yet the tug she had on his arm, not waiting for an answer as she led him away, gave way to her anger.

Hyunjin’s legs seemed to move on their own. Unable to find the words to respond with, simply allowing himself to be pulled along.

His eyes raked over her form. Resolute, frustrated.

Fascinating.

This was Y/N, the woman who had always been so poised, so controlled... but in this moment, she was something else entirely.

Suddenly he felt his cheeks tinge.

In the car, Y/N’s frustration was evident, a string of curses escaping her lips. 

   “Who the hell does he think he is? That asshole only knows how to run his mouth and nothing else.” She muttered, her eyes focused on the road.

The dark-haired man watched her in silence, a mix of admiration and bewilderment settling in.

   “I should’ve punched him instead and wiped that smug look off his face.” She turned to look at the quiet man in the next seat.

   “—And you! You should’ve said something, how could you just stand there?!” Y/N snapped, her anger still simmering.

Hyunjin remained silent, stunned all over again as she directed her frustrations towards at him. Unable to quite understand why she was upset with him now.

Minutes passed, and by the time they stopped at the next light, Y/N seemed to have calmed down. She huffed for what felt like an eternity, only to glance over at him again, surprise slowly creeping across her face.

   “Wait… where were we even headed?” She asked, glancing around as if she had lost track of their destination, which, in reality, she probably didn’t have one to begin with.

There was a split-second of silence before Hyunjin let out a sudden, uncontrollable laugh. One he had been holding back ever since she had shoved him into the passenger seat.

   “I would say… towards the gallery?” He suggested between his chuckles, recognizing the familiar streets around them.

Y/N groaned, the last of her frustration giving way to amusement.

   “Why didn’t you say anything?” She muttered, shaking her head as she continued to drive.

He only could let out another laugh, shrugging.

He wasn’t sure either. 

Why was he rendered speechless ever since she arrived back then. Only watching as cursed her cousin, as she scolded him.

It was more sides of Y/N that he had uncovered.

Protective, fiery, and unafraid to speak her mind.

Hyunjin had always known she was aggressively proud and protective of the people and things she cared about. He wasn’t surprised she had those qualities.

But he hadn’t realized that it extended to him as well. 

That he was also a part of her things, a part of her people.

And what Alex had said wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Hyunjin had been drifting through life, moving from one thing to the next with no real purpose. But even as his mind tried to process everything that had happened, the warmth of Y/N’s fingers lingering on his wrist brought him a sense of…belonging.

A sense of comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

That phantom touch, still hot against his skin, stirred that weird sensation inside him again, a feeling he couldn’t ignore. It had been there ever since she’d complimented his cooking, a quiet warmth he was starting to recognize... and not one he was ready to let go of.

Like the searing grasp that still seemed to burn on his wrist, lingering long after they had forgotten all about Alex and the nonsense he’d spewed, the questions of why Hyunjin was suddenly feeling this way continued to haunt him.

But, it wasn’t just the touch that tug at his thoughts, it was everything.

When he found himself trailing after her, his heart lifting at the familiar sound of the apartment door opening and she entered. When he would chatter over dinner, watching as she ate with carefree gusto, her compliments flowing freely over whatever he had thrown together. 

There was a strange warmth in these moments. Something that felt like it had been awakened in him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. It was as if something inside him was getting ready to burst, but even as he recognized the shift, he was still unsure how to label any of it.

What he did know, however, was that he enjoyed being by her side more than he had ever expected.

The gallery director’s husband, that future version of himself who would eventually have the answers, would figure out the specifics later. For now, Hyunjin was content just to be the one who received her genuine laughter, the sound of it filling him with an inexplicable warmth. He loved how her jokes, always blunt and sometimes a little too honest, would make him stifle his laughter, a quiet amusement settling in his chest.

And then there were the softer moments. 

The sight of her curled under the blankets, her hair a mess, traces of sleep clinging to her face. A look that Hyunjin suddenly found more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before.

Even prettier than those actresses. Those models that he had once thought were so. 

But the questions still fluttered, just beneath the surface. 

A part of him was aware of the growing attachment, the pull he couldn’t ignore. 

While another part, a quieter, more cautious part, waited for a sign.

And a sign seemed to come easily to him.

Especially when the playboy husband found his eyes trailing over Y/N more often than he ever cared to admit. It was in those moments that he found his sign.

The one he had given himself without even realizing it.

The business couple was preparing for yet another event, hosted by an business acquaintance of hers.

Hyunjin stood in the doorway, watching her get ready, his figure leaning casually against the frame. His gaze wandered over her as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Her eyes darted over to the reflection of his figure behind her.

   “I’m surprised you got ready first.” Y/N mused, with a soft laugh, glancing at him as she adjusted her lipstick.

Hyunjin chuckled, his lips curving into a smile. He dropped his head, ready to respond with something snarky perhaps. Something that would catch her off guard, make her falter as she applied her lip gloss.

He could already picture her narrowing her brows, throwing him a mock glare, and then muttering something that would set him off into laughter.

Something that would usually happen in these situations.

But the words never came.

As he gazed at her reflection, something stopped him. 

The gallery director’s husband caught a glimpse of himself, lounging against the door-frame. His body had been poised in that position for the past half hour, watching her with quiet intensity. 

But now, as he saw himself in the mirror, it hit him.

All the answers to the questions that had been gnawing at him.

Those badgering thoughts that surged through him late at nights when he was heavily aware of her form next to him, chest heaving up and down, breathing softly, deeper into her slumber.

The thoughts that would poke at his mind whenever he found himself following her every move, his eyes lingering a moment too long on her.

He stared at his reflection, his gaze locked with his own, and for the first time, it was all too clear.

The look in his eyes was far too familiar.

He’s seen them plenty of times. Plenty of glimpses of it, ones that had often brought a smug smile to his lips. Smiles that parted as he leaned in to whisper sweet, empty, words.

It was the look that women gave him.

The gleam in their eyes, the wide smiles, the soft blush on their cheeks.

It was desire.

It was attraction.

It was infatuation.

Hyunjin stilled against the door-frame. His entire body suddenly relaxed as he realized.

What did a playboy perhaps in love turn into?

A lunatic.

Because the playboy soon found himself doing things that felt... out of character.

His sleep-hazed eyes would follow her every movement as she hauled herself out of bed at ungodly hours. Times that Hyunjin was still not used to waking, yet still stirred from his sleep.

He had always hated mornings. 

Hated the way the sun would already be shining bright for no reason at all.

Yet, there he was, brewing a pot of coffee, a quiet habit he had started for no other reason than the fact that he noticed she liked it prepared before she headed out. And each morning, when she stepped out of the bathroom, still half-dazed from sleep, she would blink in surprise at the sight of his groggy, hunched figure standing by the counter. It had been weeks since he began this routine, but her surprise still hadn’t worn off.

   “How can someone sleep with all the noise you make?” He’d mutter, offering the same lame excuse he always did. 

But it was a lie.

Hwang Hyunjin couldn’t tell her that he was slowly weaving himself into her routine. That he was positioning himself to become a fixture in her life. To make her so accustomed to having him there, make her rely on him for small, mundane things like making coffee.

He couldn’t tell her that he had started catching feelings for her, his wife.

Tell her how undeniably attracted he was to her, his wife.

She’d laugh in his face. He was sure of it. 

And though the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He found himself still doing things he never would have imagined before, things he thought might bring a smile to her face.

Things that betrayed his playboy reputation.

Things that the old Hwang Hyunjin would have scoffed at, would laugh in disbelief of his current self’s antics.

The second Hwang son had always been the type to accept whatever life threw at him. His status, his place within his family. Though they had all fallen into place because he hadn’t bothered to prevent them, hadn’t cared enough to even attempt to challenge them. Deep down, he knew it all came back to his own bad choices.

And now, here he was, caught in yet another predicament. One he’d accepted just as easily, though this one hadn’t been a result of his choices.

Or maybe it was.

Maybe when he had stepped into that bridal room, drawn in by the panic in her eyes, he had already made his choice.

Maybe when he had locked the door behind him, rushing to her side to calm her, to soothe that clench in his chest, he had sealed his fate.

Now, he sat there, a fool, quietly acknowledging the fact that he was infatuated with his wife. Y/N, who, clearly, didn’t feel the same.

It was almost laughable. Ironic, really.

The playboy, the playboy, had developed a crush.

And it was one he couldn’t chase with his charms or good looks.

Hwang Hyunjin had truly fallen for the ambitious gallery director. 

Who wouldn’t? 

Just look at her.

And, of course, he looked.

His gaze lingering, tracing. Shamelessly ogling the one woman who was suddenly off limits. 

Y/N, his wife.

────────────────────────

There had been a quiet shift somewhere along the way. 

The self-proclaimed workaholic had noticed it easily, even though she wasn’t usually the type to catch such things so quickly.

Y/N Yeom had always immersed herself in her passions. In her brand and her business. And though it might seem like it, that she had no time for any of it, she wasn’t entirely clueless when it came to men, having had her share of boyfriends over the years. But most of those relationships had ended for one reason.

She was too focused on her work. 

There was nothing “girlfriend-worthy” about her.

Even if the gallery director had thick skin, never letting those words dig deep enough to prick her, they still left her with an uneasy sense of…imperfection.

Y/N was ambitious, there was no doubt there. And even if she might not have been the “perfect daughter,” she liked to think she came close, compared to other high-class children at least. As a businesswoman, she was near flawless, her gallery thriving and her career booming.

She had dreamed of being the perfect wife too, once.

But that dream faded when her eyes were opened.

She had long since given up on that goal.

Even so, Y/N apparently wasn’t perfect in the eyes of the men she’d dated. At least, not the “perfect lover” they wanted.  

And that’s what irked her, slightly. 

If she couldn’t be a perfect lover, she knew for sure that becoming a perfect wife was out of question.

Besides the way her wedding, her marriage had all happened, it was all far from what one would call perfect. 

Not that she ever wanted to be the “perfect wife” to Hwang Hyunjin of all people. 

The man’s reputation had long preceded him, and Y/N was sure he would drive her mad. She had already imagined herself holed up in her office. Taking solace there to escape her trophy husband’s playboy tendencies. Ready to either kill him or shoot herself from the headaches he would give her.

But the soft pats of his hand against her back, had shattered all that.

He had done something so unexpected, those less-than expectations that had clouded her mind ever since she agreed to marry him, seemed to have faded.

“Breathe…” 

His tone had been soft, soothing, yet enough to pull her out of the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

When he kissed her, she should have been angry. She should’ve been furious that he’d pulled such a “Hyunjin stunt.” But somehow, those feelings evaded her. Instead, she felt an odd sense of gratitude. The press of his lips against hers brought her back to reality. Back to her supposed perfect love story, one where she could at least pretend to be the perfect wife.

She had expected more of those.

More of those moments for her to pretend to be the perfect wife.

More of the kisses.

Although she swore it wasn’t because she liked seeing the shocked expression in his eyes when she kissed him back, she knew her competitiveness had played a role.

But the kisses never came.

Hwang Hyunjin, the playboy, had never once tried anything with his supposed wife.

Maybe she should have been grateful for that. It crossed off one worry from the list of things that could give her a headache.

It was still strange. Seeing all these sides of Hyunjin she hadn’t thought existed.

For so long, Y/N had believed him to be nothing more than the pretentious second son of the Hwang empire. 

A narcissist, lazy and indulgent, with little ambition beyond lounging around. 

But maybe she had judged him too harshly. Maybe her assumptions were fueled by her own bitterness, by the nagging belief that her father had screwed her over.

Her mind wandered back to their wedding day. Back to his figure leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on her as the makeup artist scrambled to fix the disaster that had become her face. Hyunjin had watched with an intensity, eyes full of… concern, was it?

Yet, she didn’t find his presence there odd.

And here she was now watching him intently. 

Her eyes raked over his figure, studying him from across the room, his figure sprawled across the long sofa he’d picked out, while she sat on the floor, surrounded by her work. 

Y/N had a habit of unloading everything onto the living room table. Her papers, files, and her laptop all strewn about. With her back pressed against the smaller sofa, she typed away like a machine. 

It was always just her and her work. 

Quiet. Lonesome.

But now, even in this silence, even as she focused on the screen in front of her, her eyes would flicker over to him. Hyunjin was in his own little world, oblivious to her gaze, but something about the way he existed in this quiet room, it didn’t feel lonesome at all.

His presence here, anything but odd.

Y/N was honestly surprised to find Hyunjin here at this hour. By now, she had grown used to his late-night disappearances. His notorious escapades and parties. Yet, somewhere along the way, even those late-night adventures had become a rare occurrence.

The first time she came home to find him lounging on the sofa, feet kicked up on the table, watching a cooking show, she had been a little stunned. It wasn’t at all what she expected from the playboy she thought she knew. But somehow, over time, it had just become a new normal.

And these days, instead of disappearing into the night, he had developed an unexpected habit of evening reading.

The thought of it still made her laugh.

Y/N would often find herself watching him in quiet fascination as his fingers turned the pages of whatever novel he was engrossed in. It was always the same book. One he was still working through. One she had noticed just a few days ago.

She’d sometimes do a double-take, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining the scene. 

And then, during particularly gripping parts of the story, he’d gasp, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at her, eager to share the latest twist. 

He would wait. For her to sigh and ask and suddenly his words would surge out. He would eagerly break down what he had read, passionate rambles about characters and plotlines she barely knew.

Oddly enough, Y/N didn’t mind listening to his random recaps, even when they pulled her away from whatever she was doing.

For Y/N, distractions usually grated on her nerves. Yet, there was something undeniably charming about Hyunjin’s excitement. 

The sparkle in his eyes when he talked about the latest plot twist or character development was…captivating. It reminded her of the same glimmer she saw when he engaged in the most mundane activities. The ones that brought him joy she assumed, whether it was playing computer games, watering the plants on the balcony while humming some off-key tune, or even just lounging around in the quiet.

She had noticed it. And she wasn’t sure exactly when it had started catching her attention.

But one thing was certain. Y/N didn’t hate it at all.

She had thought they would be just fine. Her initial worry about having to “babysit” in the pretense of marriage. About reforming the second Hwang, the screw-up of a son, had begun to melt away.

Y/N had almost forgotten about the playboy’s nature.

Almost.

As she walked into the quiet house one evening, she immediately noticed that Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen in the living room that he loved lazing around in at this time. Her eyes swooped over the dim livingroom, settling on the coffee table. He was always the one cleaning up the mess she’d left behind on it the night prior, only for her to undo it all again. It had become a cycle of his complaining as he tidied, but had never really stopped doing it.

Her eyes began to search the space instinctively, trying to locate him.

It was a rare weekday evening when Y/N returned home earlier than usual. Typically, the workaholic in her stayed late into the night, but lately, she had been working tirelessly to get ahead so she could enjoy some free time without guilt. 

Recently, the gallery director had started feeling a pang of remorse. Hyunjin was always waiting for her, no matter how late she came home or how much she told him not to.

It was strange how things had shifted over the past few months. Where once they had coexisted like mere roommates, now it felt more like they were friends. Hyunjin’s goofy laughter, his carefree nature, was starting to grow on the usually overbearing gallery director.

A breath of fresh air in her hectic life. 

But as she walked down the corridor of their apartment, her steps faltered. The distant sounds coming from the bedroom caught her attention.

A string of groans and grunts. His strained whispers, muttered curses, echoed in the stillness.

Lewd, unmistakable sounds that pointed to only one conclusion.

Y/N’s brows furrowed, the confusion quickly giving way to simmering anger as she reached out to grip the doorknob. Her mind instantly jumping back to her initial worries about him.

Hwang Hyunjin the playboy. The rake. The womanizer.

How dare he bring someone home? And to her bed, no less.

She had warned him. 

She had made it crystal clear that if he ever did something as foolish as this, she’d make his life a living hell.

All men were the same, after all.

Her grip on the doorknob tightened, anger flooding her veins, her heart hammering in her chest.

But when she flung open the door and stood there, her knuckles white from gripping the doorknob, the scene before her was nothing like what she had anticipated. Her furrowed brows of anger rising as she took in whatever she burst into.

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, his cock in fist, sweat beading on his forehead.

The bathrobe he had on was undone and barely hanging onto his body. His body on full display as he looked up at her sudden figure with wide, stunned eyes, completely frozen by her unexpected intrusion.

   “Shit—sorry!” She almost exclaimed, mortified words tumbling out before she could stop them. 

In a flash, she spun around on her heels, yanking the door shut with a sharp slam.

Y/N stood rigidly in front of the now-closed door, eyes fixed on the ground, her cheeks burning with heat. She could hear him on the other side of the door, scrambling, probably more flustered than she was.

Yet, all her mind could do was replay the image she had just walked in on, over and over. And no matter how hard she tried to focus on something else, her mind kept replaying the image she had intruded onto. Of Hyunjin, sitting there, his bathrobe hanging open, looking caught in a moment he clearly didn’t expect.

His fingers wrapped around his erection. 

She gulped, throat feeling dry. Her hands cupped her cheeks, feeling the heat surging over her skin, trying to calm her erratic heart from beating so freaking fast.

Boy, he was big after all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! (18+) - @jellyleggz, @binniesbabe, @bookswillfindyouaway, @lemonn015, @scarlet789, @onlyhyunjin @freekyfangirl, @candyquokka, @jehhskz, @stayjinnie, @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @kpopjackie, @rundontwalkshesaid, @sheerfreesia007, @thecutiepieme, @danihwang882, @hyunebunx, @seeeeking-skz, @velvetmoonlght, @alrm02, @tirena1, @cybergracie, @notevenheretbh1, @piscesrising01, @alisonyus, @hyuneyeon, @broken-glowsticks, @modesttiger, @gnabnahcbby, @hanniesdegree, @lenfilms, @sushiinmidnight, @chrisbangsass, @fixation-dump, @shhyucm, @suzyhhj, @d34thon2legs, @dessianna1, @hityoulikebahng, @tsunderelino, @minluvly, @hanadulsetaad (43/50)

[copepods]

🌇 factored-antagonism 🔁 three-pronged-spears Follow

🌫️ three-pronged-spears Follow

DNI if you support Peripherism. It's literally just Slab Mongering but worse and with less effort

#wait peripherism is still a thing?????? #meaning collector point inversions havent been the norm in like 350 years afaik

36 notes

💟 pleading-intellect

GUYSSSS my overseer found a clutch of baby green lizards today they're so CUTE

#inty.txt #and BEFORE anyone accuses me of not iterating im literally running 55,458 processes rn

2 notes

❇️ string-of-pearls 🔁 rippling-shadows Follow

👤 forspoken-antiquity Follow

hey FYI everyone if you receive an ask about transcendental inversions it's a troll. i've gotten 3 asks in the last cycle

#signal boost!!

2,347 notes

🌁 nineteen-afterthoughts

"ohhh Triangulation is outdated" "ohhh Triangulators dont even factor noise milking into their research theyre a bunch of idiots" im literallu just a little guy im 4 feet tall why do you hate me

⬜️🔁 erratic-pulse

Irrelevant tangents and jokes don't help your case. Triangulationism is simply an objectively moronic take on an already superfluous train of thought. How are you supposed to find the Solution if you can't even properly look for it?

🌁🔁 nineteen-afterthoughts

you literally have Sliverist in your bio but go off

⬜️🔁 erratic-pulse

The minutiae of my theoretical inclinations are irrelevant. Your dogma is blatantly incorrect regardless.

🌁🔁 nineteen-afterthoughts

your group senior and i are raising a family together

19 notes

💽 slowly-advancing-mist

a band of scavengers literally just stole my last vat of holy ash thats it im seeking personal ascension

#vent #dont rb

0 notes

🚹 untoward-foresight Follow

Anyone else gotten really into Gold Hegemonic epic poetry recently? This one dude Eight Brass Whistles has a bunch of crazy quasi-Regeneratist stuff, it's actually really cool

🎹 east-facing-pillars

wasnt Eight Brass Whistles a heretic???? i heard he refused to shed the 3rd attachment or something like that

🚹 untoward-foresight Follow

Nah that callout post got debunked 533 cycles ago lol

🎹 east-facing-pillars

ahhh ok thanks for clarifying! ill let you know if i find anything :)

#thanks for being polite haha #lesson learned i gotta check this forum more LMAO

93 notes

⬜️ erratic-pulse

anonymous asked:

Transcendental Inversion! Transcendental Inversion!

Only someone with a fundamentally false understanding of inversion modes would send this. You can't even do such a thing without sufficient trailing bonds, which entropy renders impossible.

#Why do I always encounter idiots on this pseudonym?

5 notes

[signedkoko]

Alastor x gn! Reader wherein redemption has been found possible, and s/o had to be the first one to go while he's left in hell.

And he misses them.

Alastor X GN!Reader [Angst]

In which Alastor unfortunately lost you in a way he's not sure he can ever get you back.

Alastor met you at that blasted hotel long ago, when everything had first started

And no, he never believed it in, he always teased you before and after you were together about how much you trusted Charlie, as if there was any rhyme or reason

But you worked hard, harder than anyone else, even Charlie

Hours spent manning the hotel, encouraging others to join, keeping yourself clean and being kind

When you both wed, in his vows he joked if anyone, you'd be the first to go

What a sick joke

No one knew what was happening, when a light broke out and consumed you, when your body became lighter than air, when everyone saw you for what you were

An angel

Alastor wasn't there when it happened, he only saw the light pierce through the skies, and was at a loss when he tried calling but got no answer

Honestly, he didn't have much of a reason to worry

He just, well- he didn't feel right

So to assure himself everything was dandy as per, he decided to detour a little sooner back to the hotel

He saw celebration, he saw Charlie, he saw your ring on the floor

And he didn't see you

For the first in a long, long time, he struggled to smile

No one can get to him, and no one wants to, he's stood still, racing through every possibility, every action he has to take

He knows you're not hiding, you would never pull such a cruel joke on him

But then what

Everything he has done as a human, in the afterlife, everything about him

There's no way he could get into heaven, not for centuries and aeons

If he tried breaking into heaven for you and failed, it'd take quadruple that time to switch plans and make up for ever trying

It haunts him, knowing that the best course of action is to just, not do anything

He's always clutching your ring, staring at everything of yours in the hotel, pacing back and forth in your room, thinking

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

And with months, then weeks, slowly more people start to join you

He can't admit it, but he's jealous, he is seething with nothing but envy and rage that everyone else gets to be with you, everyone but him

Alastor the Radio Demon eventually fades form the public eye, becoming nothing but an afterthought, a bad taste left over in the back of your throat when the topic comes up years later

No one knows where he is, what became of him

No one knows what pitiful creature he’s sunk into, obsessed with an angel he'd leave nothing but stains on

Author's Note - When I got this request I got SO excited, it really inspired me, so thank you!

[zivazivc]

Because of a recent ask about the dad's name I am dropping this old drawing that should go along with a oneshot I doubt I'll ever finish because I don't like it anymore, so better I just put this out there.

The dad's name is Keanu and his husband's name is Wave. I don't actually know anything about them but here they are 😅

And you can find a portion of the unfinished fic with this scene under the cut. Warning: Floyd is a mess. A much much bigger one than I actually/currently think his present self is, hence why I don't like this so much anymore (and it was never meant to be canon to my ex bandmates au anyway). It's still pretty funny though.

. . .

Before Bruce could notice the change in Floyd’s mood his eyes caught movement behind him by the entrance to the restaurant. His grin eased down into a more relaxed smile for him to return to business.

“We have another troll family coming in,” he said and turned around to pick up a set of small, freshly-printed and laminated menus from the counter. “Been getting quite a number of those since we hosted the concert.”

Floyd snatched them from his hand, eager to push the replay of his anxiety to the back of his mind, and get back to work. “I’m on it," he said determinedly. "You take care of the big guys.”

He didn’t even know if he could handle carrying another Vaycaytioner-sized family-sized order of food. He hogged the regularly-sized troll customers as much as he could. 

The new guests had settled behind one of the small inflatable plastic tables in the pool area close to the entrance where the sun was shining through. Even with their lower halves submerged in water, Floyd could immediately tell that they were Techno Trolls from the way their hair flowed in the air, like gravity was just an afterthought to them.

Once he got closer, Floyd saw that it was presumably two dads around his age with their two kids. His eyes immediately glued themselves to the older, more physically attractive of the two men, because that’s what he always seemed to find himself doing in these situations. Not that it was his fault the guy was hot and Floyd had been grounded to perfume bottles, armadillo RVs, and underground bunkers for months on end.

When he made it to the pool edge and stood right above their floating table, he finally caught himself gazing. He blinked and reeled his stupid horny thoughts back in before he would do something dumb like bite his lip and give him the bedroom eyes in front of his husband and kids. Not that something like that had been completely beneath him in the past. But he was currently on a shift in his brother’s restaurant, so…

He put on a more acceptable, family-friendly smile.

“Hi, welcome,” he said easily, sounding nothing like how his spasmodic thoughts felt in his head. “How’s everyone doing? You guys hungry?”

He crouched down and leaned over the edge of the pool to hand them the menus.

“Starving, actually,” the attractive techno troll said with a friendly laugh in his voice, and leaned over the inflatable table to grab them. And Floyd’s eyes traveled down that toned arm and exposed stomach. Not only did he ooze the confident, warm charisma of someone who had his life together, he was also fit. Floyd almost fell into the pool in his attempt to accidentally brush fingers with him. The guy was back in his spot in the water before either of those things happened, much to Floyd’s relief and disappointment.

He straightened up and pulled up his notepad and pencil almost like a shield. Fuck, Floyd, get your head straight! “Can I get you anything to drink while you decide what you'll have?”

“Nah, I think we’ll look first,” the guy replied without lifting his eyes as he handed the menus to the rest.

Floyd was about to give up on his first round of trying to get this man’s attention, and sigh in relief that his stupid wants weren’t being entertained, when he registered a different set of eyes staring hard at him. He glanced to the left, to the other guy behind the table.

The intensity of the glare nearly made Floyd recoil.

His first thought was: Shit, I wasn’t even trying to be obvious. Because when he was, the angry stares he would receive from jealous boyfriends or girlfriends were usually heated and flustered, not intensely sharp and cold. The steadiness with which he was being pinned didn’t even feel like a newly developed loathing.

Shit was also Floyd’s second thought. He’s looking at me like we know each other… I haven’t already fucked his man before, have I? Floyd wasn’t so good with faces or names …or memory in general when it came to certain episodes in his life. But surely the hot husband would have remembered him at least…

Then his mind wandered to the other possibility. Did we fuck??

Whenever he tried to iron out his life, his stupid past actions always seemed to come back to bite him in the ass. He really hoped this wasn’t one of those cases.

He stared at the troll’s face, trying to place him somewhere. Techno Troll (that didn’t narrow it down that much), hair in two different gradients of blue, dark purple skin, a younger-looking face even for a Techno Troll, bright green eyes, and green freckles…

Sweat broke down Floyd’s back, and it had nothing to do with his recovering physical condition.

He swallowed uncomfortably and instinctively pulled his pencil and paper slightly closer to his chest. His eyes finally looked over to the other side of the inflatable table. He had only briefly glanced at the kids before, enough to know they were kids and uninteresting. But looking at them now… Floyd immediately deviated a couple of shades from his natural hue.

Neither had any of the hunky dad’s warm colors; in fact, the kids weren’t even fully Techno. They were mixed like his friend Liv. The scarce strands of thin, luminescent Techno cords were nearly swallowed up by dense, fluffy, regular hair. The girl—they were a boy and a girl—was lounging on a pool float with her feet in the air, and Floyd could see that instead of flippers, she had legs with the unusually webbed feet, kind of something like an amphibian. The other kid—the boy—had skin that didn't have the dim effect or rubbery texture to it that Techno Trolls normally had, and it was an uncomfortably familiar shade of turquoise. Both of them sported hot pink bangs over their eyes.

“Ah,” Floyd uttered out loud like some kind of dumbass.

The three heads who had been engrossed in the restaurant menu all looked up, surprised to see him still standing there. Floyd evaded their gazes only to lock eyes with the purple troll again.

He… He was the kid from the week-long, non-stop techno rave, back when Floyd had been deep in his sour worm addiction and going through a long manic episode to top it off… At one point during the party someone brought out pure citric acid and Floyd blanked out for three days straight after that, only to wake up in an unfamiliar bed with a double surprise…

It was like a switch, but now Floyd could clearly remember the young adult version of this troll floating around his dorm room with the egg from Floyd’s head in his hands, panicking about how his parents were going to kill him, all while Floyd silently lay in bed contemplating if he should mention the other egg stuck in the kid's hair or if he should just say he’s going to the bathroom and then never return.

“Uhm.” He swallowed uncomfortably, wanting to be anywhere but here. Maybe not the crystal bottle, but anywhere else. “…I think I should get you a different waiter…”

The purple troll’s glare did not waver in the slightest. “I think so too.”

Floyd took that as permission to bail on him a second time. He turned around on his heel and practically ran from the pool edge.

“Keanu, you good?” he heard the husband ask, sounding obviously confused about what just transpired.

Well, at least Floyd knew what to call that troll in his head now instead of just "kid"…

. . .

[rorynxoxo]

Izuku x Reader

Hurt/comfort

WC: 900

Desc: Izuku's been busy lately, and at some point, it becomes too much.

Izuku and Y/N have been supportive of each other’s work since they started dating at UA, especially now that you’ve moved in together and are both pursuing your own demanding careers. You admire and respect Izuku for his dedication to his hero work, even more-so now that he’s the #1 Hero. You love him, and he loves you. Paparazzi goes insane whenever you’re seen in public together and social media admires your relationship and everyone in Japan wishes they had what you two had.

Even so, you can’t help but feel an invisible wall has been built between you two. 

When Izuku comes home after night patrol and passes out, you leave for work. 

When you wake up, Izuku’s leaving for an interview.

Another interview, 

And another, and another, until you’re finally sitting down and eating breakfast together.

Izuku sets down your plate and sits across from you at the table.

You began speaking, 

“Your mom called the other day, she was wondering if we wanted to–” Izuku cut you off, 

“I don’t think I’ll have time, sorry.” He responded without letting you finish your sentence

You paused, taken aback by his audacity, “I didn’t even finish my–” Izuku ignored your inquiry and stood up from the table,

“I’m gonna go train with Todoroki, I’ll be back in awhile.” He put his dish in the sink before he walked past you. “Cya’ later”

“Uhm, bye- I guess” You mumbled.

You couldn’t help but notice he didn't properly say goodbye, nor kiss the back of your head as he used to when he left. You start to realize this has became a pattern. You put your dishes away and sit on the couch, just staring. You understand he was busy and prioritizes being a hero – but over having conversations with his girlfriend? – maybe you really were just being clingy, because the Izuku you know wouldn’t ever do that. 

As you were enveloped in your thoughts, your phone rang; it was Mina. 

“Hey girllll!” Mina sang through the phone

“Hey” You responded. Mina paused before replying,

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s stupid. I think I’m crazy.” You responded “Crazy? Why?” She asked

“I think Izuku’s been ignoring me. I get that he’s busy and everything, but he’s off today and wouldn’t even let me get a sentence out before leaving. I just- I don’t know if I’m being some annoying, clingy, girlfriend or if he’s really sick of me.” You mumbled.

“Are you serious? Midoryia’s being like that?” She scoffed, “The guy might be busy, but Jesus, he could at least talk to you.”

“I guess.” You murmured. 

“Y/N, I love you, but you need to start standing up for yourself. Don’t let yourself be treated like an afterthought.” Mina sighed, “I gotta go, we’ll hang out this weekend, okay? Talk to you later!”

She hung up the phone and you laid down on the couch.

Mina was right. You weren’t always one for standing up for yourself, it was why you loved Izuku so much. Even since middle school you admired how he never let bullying override his determination for being a hero. You wished you were like him in that regard. As you reminisced everything you hated about yourself, you felt tears trailing down your cheeks. If Izuku did want to break up, what would you do? You were confused and hurt, and couldn’t tell if you were being dramatic or not. Maybe what Izuku needed was someone who didn’t need so much attention. You couldn’t stand yourself. You closed your eyes, cried, and eventually fell asleep. 

The next thing you knew, the door was opening. You didn’t get up.

“Y/N?” Izuku called out.

You sighed, “Yeah?” Izuku walked into the living room, and once he saw you laying down on the couch, he knelt down in front of you with a look of guilt. “I’m so sorry, baby” He said gently as he wiped your dried tears. You sat up after he sat next to you.

“I didn’t realize how preoccupied I’ve been, I never meant to hurt you. I feel awful.” He frowned, “I could never get sick of you – you’re the furthest thing from an annoying girlfriend.” He hugged you, and you hugged him back. You missed this. “It doesn’t feel like it when you ignore me.” You mumbled into his shoulder. You could smell his cologne, and apart from the fact he was sweaty from training, it felt like home. 

“You’re completely right.” He admitted “You don’t ever deserve being ignored. I hate that I get distracted. I love you, and no matter what I do otherwise, that’ll never change.” He parted from the hug and kissed you, It felt like it’s been a long time.

“It’s okay, I forgive you” You rested on his shoulder

“Next weekend I’m off,” He smiled, “Can I take you out to dinner?”

You smirked back at him, “It’s the least you could do.” You joked. 

“Oh, of course” He chuckled.

Later, as you two were intertwined with each other in bed, you asked him,

“How did you know I was upset?” A good question.

“...Mina chewed my ear off.” He averted his eyes and shuddered at the memory. 

.

.

.

“YOU IDIOT, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY THAT OBLIVIOUS!?!? I FEEL LIKE IT’S KIND OF OBVIOUS NOT TO IGNORE YOUR GIRLFRIEND, RIGHT LOVER BOY? HOW ABOUT INSTEAD OF YOU MAKING HER FEEL LIKE SHIT, I SHOVE MY—”

A/N: eek my first fan fic!!!!! hope u liked it, i didn't edit it at all lol - rory

[heartless-tate]

Hi! If I may be so self indulgent and request something... 👉🏻👈🏻

Reader being a (for lack of better words) boring person. They're good at blending in within social circles but never standing out or having a circle or friend of their own. Good laughing at jokes but can't come up with good ones or even if they did, they don't have the courage to tell them outright. They're very much a chicken when it comes to expressing themselves as an individual because they're never comfortable enough around anyone. They are a chicken in general, to be honest. This essentially (and sadly) leaves them as an NPC in their own life. And they've accepted it, trying to come to terms with a life of extreme mediocrity. They're actively trying to push down any need of wanting more from life 99% of days.

However, when you're good at listening, you observe things much better and you learn things faster. And subconsciously, reader has been observing a lot of things about Velaris (including the IC). I'm not sure where this would lead but this is probably the only real skill they have; being a good observer and learner.

I leave the rest to you. I was thinking pairing them with Azriel (since he would probably understand her better) but I'm open to any modifications.

Also, just an afterthought, I've always wondered what job I would love to have in a fantasy world (and I don't know if this counts as an actual job) but something like observing the sky/stars to look for any forthcoming events sounds really cool. So I guess reader could do that since major events happen don't happen once in a hundred years or something which ultimately makes their job very boring. However, they love it because who wouldn't love spending their whole night star-gazing (potential date idea?? YESS).

Sorry this became way longer than I intended. I wouldn't judge if you chose not to write on it. Thanks & have a great day :)

Am I boring? | Azriel X boring F reader

A/N: Hiii! Tysm for your ask. I hope I captured what you were imagining right. 💖

summary: You’re a star mapper. And you’re boring with no hope of love. Or at least you believed that until Azriel came along.

1.2k words

warnings: no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, cussing??, romance?? That’s it?? I think?

The stars shined brighter tonight. Since you were a little girl, you had always been fascinated by them. How they sparkled. They were interesting, and beautiful- unlike you. Maybe that’s why you clung onto them.

You pulled a piece of parchment from your bag, and started mapping the stars. Rhysand, the highlord of the night court, had invited you to his court to observe and map stars from this  part of the world. You accepted, wanting some change. Even if you knew it wouldn’t be much of a difference to you. The inner circle was more than nice to you, and you appreciated it.

Laughter bubbled from behind you. You currently sat with your telescope on the balcony of the House of Wind. This was your third week here. Rhysand had offered you a permanent place here in the night court, but you were yet to accept. You didn’t fit in. You were a background character. A random star mapper, a job would probably never be much of use to anyone. Except weird star fanatics. Aka you. You were sure he only offered you a place here because of pity.

The inner circle seemed to really like you, and whether that was because of your quiet and shy nature, or the fact you always listened and gave great advice, or the fact you always laughed to try and fit in even if you didn’t quite understand the joke, you didn’t know. The only one who seemed to see past your mask of people pleasing was the Shadowsinger.

Anytime you ‘laughed’ at Cassian’s jokes, he was always there, smirking with a known look at you. As if he knew you. As if he had known you your whole life. Azriel had seemed curious about you. It was uncomfortable. Nobody had ever been curious about you. Everyone always enjoyed someone that they could talk to about themselves for hours. But he was the one always interrupting the other members of the inner circle to question you, on you. And your own life. And sadly you didn’t have many answers other than, “oh I don’t know.”

It made you feel weird at how interested he seemed in you. It made you feel awkward. But you knew he would lose interest once he really discovered there wasn’t actually much to you. You were a bore.

“Those stars are named Arktos, Carynth, and Oristes. They shine above that mountain for a week once a year during the blood rite.” A voice said beside you. You flinched as you noticed Azriel sitting directly by you, his shadows swirling around you both. He was always appearing out of nowhere. He handed you a plate of cake.

“Courtesy of Elain. She baked dessert tonight.” Azriel said, lifting a bite of his cake to his mouth and chewing on it.

“Oh.” You responded, setting the plate down beside you. You quickly labeled the stars on your parchment. They were beautiful.

“Do you like cake?” He questioned.

You paused and stared blank at him.

“I’m not sure?” You responded, fiddling with your hands. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Azriel smiled at you knowingly. Loud laughter boomed from the room behind you two. He looked right at you with piercing amber eyes that seemed annoyed. As if he had noticed you flinching from the loud sounds.

“Come with me? Just trust me.” He whispered, grasping your hand gently with caution. It was sudden. And you weren’t sure. You didn’t know him much. How could you trust him? But something in your body and soul screamed yes. Why not? It was risky- but life was boring.

“Okay.” You responded, gasping as he pulled you close, his wings wrapping you close to him, and his shadows swarming around you both before all of a sudden you were now standing on a cliff. Oh gods. His hands were on your hips gently, his wings spread wide, letting you see the view.

You both stood on a cliff that overlooked a waterfall and river. The moon reflected in the water and the stars did too, creating a mirror effect. It was probably the most gorgeous sight you had ever seen.

“Its- it’s…” Your words fumbled, mouth open in shock. “Beautiful..” you whispered. His breath was hot against your ear.

“Very.” He whispered back. When you looked at him he wasn’t even looking at the view. His eyes were glued on you. And he was looking at you as if you were a goddess. Azriel’s eyes softened, with adoration. It scared you. Nobody had ever looked at you like that. With a blush you realized he was holding you like a lover. He smirked at you as if knowing you just realized it.

Azriel slowly let go and used his wing to guide you to turn around. Blankets and pillows were on the ground. Like a picnic but a nest. His shadows swirled excitedly around the set up. He guided you gently to the set up, helping you sit down before sitting beside you.

“Do you want your mapping materials? My shadows can retrieve them for you. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to just relax and enjoy this night or continue star mapping.” He murmured.

You thought for a second. This was odd. Was this a date? Or did he do this with all of his friends? Did you want to map or did you want to enjoy this night with him?

“No it’s okay.” You replied, eyes glued to the stars above. They were much clearer from this view then from the House of Wind. You guess the city lights blurred them out. But here? They were in their full glory.

“Why did you bring me here?” He seemed to pause before responding. 

“My shadows told me you might be leaving soon. This is my attempt at convincing you to stay here. In the night court. With your mate.” Azriel confessed.

He watched your eyebrows furrow.

“Mate? I don’t have a mate-“ you panicked.

His wings cocooned you and his arm enveloped you. It was like he could sense your panic. He rocked you back and forth like a child. And it was comforting.

“I’m your mate. I’ve known since I’ve met you. I thought I would have more time to get to know you and the bond would snap for you, but then my shadows informed me of your soon departure.”

You swallowed, throat bobbing. You blinked a few times. “There isn’t anything about me to get to know.” You replied harshly. Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Shadows swirled around you both, some tendrils caressing you.

“Don’t say that. I know it isn’t true. Everyday I learn something new about you. I don’t care what you say, you are the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He said, words much louder and firmer now. He thinks you’re interesting?

“Stay. Stay with me. Let me get to know you. I don’t expect you to accept the bond anytime soon. But give me- give us a chance.” Azriel said, wings tightening around you both. His eyes bore into you, with a fierce and loving look in them. You couldn’t help but soften in his hold.

You realized then, you deserved love. And for once a belonging feeling overwhelmed your senses.

“I’ll stay.”

Hope you guys enjoyed 💗

[macabr3-barbi3]

A Practical Demonstration (Alastor/Reader)

The deal you made with Alastor leads to an unexpected demonstration.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54229351/chapters/137324059

(ayyo I never posted the first and second chapter of this so: here we go!) Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert

“What in the nine rings is that shit?”

“Hi, Angel,” you greet him as he came into your room, not bothering to close the door fully behind him. “As always, nice of you to knock.” You’ve got a wide spread of documents scattered across the desk, various color schemes and books on light studies and all sorts of shit that Velvette had asked you to look into for her. You don’t mind helping out where you can but you had been at this for hours, and Angel showing up unannounced was always a good way to distract you when you were trying to work.

The demon shrugs. “Eh, ya get used to it,” he says with a grin, his sharp teeth coming into view, the gold one glinting in the light from your desk. “But for real, what is that thing?” He points to your nightstand, where the rose toy you neglected to put away sat on proud display.

You flush and race across the room, throwing the toy unceremoniously back inside. “It’s really nothing,” you tell him, and when he approaches you spread your arms out to try to keep him back. “Angel, come on-”

He’s sprouted his third set of arms to reach around you, opening the drawer and pulling your newest gift out from the top. “Come on now, ya don’t gotta be ashamed if it's a sex thing!” He lets it sit in his hand as he poses with the rest of his arms, blinking coyly at you in his new position. “I basically am a sex thing, baby, it don’t bother me none!” He holds it up to inspect, and when he brings it a little too close to his face you drag his arm back away. “Where’d ya get this thing?”

It was a gift from Velvette, something new that Vox and Valentino had created together that your friend had felt compelled to shove into your hands one day. “Keep it on the low, yeah?” She had said, an eyebrow raised and a cocky smirk on her face. “New product, can’t be lettin’ it get in the wrong hands but Satan knows ya ain’t gettin’ any action in that rickety joint of yours.” You had blushed and stammered and protested but ultimately had taken the damn thing, placing it on the nightstand in your room when you returned that day and not touching it beyond the one time you turned it on- just out of curiosity- and saw the force of the suction that it could generate.

“Velvette gave it to me, and it’s a sex toy,” you tell him, and he gives you a knowing look.

“Ahh, she’s still tryna get ya laid, huh?” You close your eyes and give him a tight nod. “She still doesn’t know about your thing for tall and freaky?”

You slam your hands over his mouth, eyes darting to the partially open door, not noticing the shadow that slipped into the room mere moments before. “Angel! Shut up!”

“Whaaaat?” He complains, pulling your hands away from his mouth. “It’s not like it’s a secret- pretty much everyone knows except the Strawberry Pimp himself, and-”

“And,” you interrupt him, taking the toy from his hands and throwing it back into the nightstand, “I would like to keep it that way. And don’t call him that,” you add as an afterthought.

Angel groans as he started walking away. “Spoilsport,” he calls over his shoulder. “Ya never let me have any fun.” He exits the room and purposely leaves the door fully open this time, and with an eye roll you follow him, sure that Charlie and Vaggie have dinner ready by now.

Alastor is there when you stroll into the dining room, his customary smile in place as he looks at the two of you. “Evening, friends!” He greets you, and you give him a smile back. “I’ve saved a seat for you, my dear,” he says, and pulls out the chair to the right of the one he normally sits in.

Your face flushes, and Angel snickers beside you as he goes around the table to sit by Husk. “You don’t have to do that, Alastor,” you tell him, and his grin sharpens dangerously.

“But of course I do,” he says smoothly, quietly, fanning out his napkin to sit across his lap as he sits. “What would dear Velvette think if she knew we weren’t getting along?”

Your spine stiffens, and a glance around the room confirms that no one else had heard him. It was the only point of contention between the two of you, really, the deal that you had made with him to keep Velvette safe from the insanity of the other Vees.

He owned your soul, and any of your knowledge of the more recent aspects of technology on Earth that could potentially help him in taking down Vox. In return, he would not specifically target Velvette when the final confrontation with the Vees took place, content with simply obliterating Vox and Valentino- provided that Velvette did not take any actions directly against him.

Velvette knew about your deal and the part you played in ensuring that when the Vees fell she would not be part of the carnage. They had thrown her under the bus not long before you came to the hotel, placing the blame for a series of footage and info leaks on her social media platforms, and she was more than happy to let someone else seek her revenge for her. She kept the benefits of working with the Vees- ‘no harm done,’ she had told them- and had the extra reassurance that when they fell she would remain on top. She knew you seemed happy enough to work with Alastor when he asked it of you, and was pleased that the deal didn’t seem to be a hardship on you.

He didn’t often use that against you like this though, like her safety was a bargaining chip that went hand in hand with his personal happiness or mood. You hadn’t even said anything bad! Just that he hadn’t needed to save you a seat beside him. You were thrilled, honestly, and just mostly nervous about him catching one of your looks or blushes when you watched him too closely.

You gave him a smile regardless. “Right. I appreciate the gesture then,” you say, and don’t see the way that his grin extends as he watches you sit and start reaching for the food laid out on the table.

Dinner is a strange affair. Throughout the night Alastor seems to keep finding excuses to turn his attention to you, only to harshly refute or ignore what you say in response. His leg is twitchy under the table and keeps knocking against yours, to the point that you turn essentially sideways in your seat to stop it from happening and talk to Vaggie and Charlie instead. At the end of the meal you walk yourself to your room slowly, tired beyond belief, confused and a bit hurt by Alastor’s behavior.

To your surprise, the Radio Demon is in your room when you close the door behind you. You startle a bit, not expecting him, and at the sound he looks up from where he sits at your desk, the documents you had for Velvette organized into a neat stack. “Hello, my dear!” He says, and rises from the chair to approach you. You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the hurt you’re sure is reflected there, but he places a sharp tipped finger under your chin and raises your head to look at him. His smile is softer, his eyes lowered a bit as he gazes down at you. 

“I want to apologize for my behavior at dinner,” he says, and you heave a relieved exhale. “Upon reflection I do see that my manners were abysmal, and there was no need to treat you in such a fashion.”

“It’s okay, sir,” you say, but when you start to take a step back more of his fingers come up to grip your face, holding you in place. “Um-”

“Ah ah ah,” he admonishes. “I wasn’t finished. In addition to my apology, I did have a query for you in regards to our deal.”

“Of course,” you tell him, and your heart has started beating a bit harder in your chest now with the way he’s looking at you. It’s impossible to tell when he’s angry with the smile most of the time, but his expression is even more unreadable now than it usually is. “What is it?”

He pauses for a moment. “Is there any form of technology that you are uncomfortable with the thought of showing or demonstrating for me?”

You blink slowly a couple times, the way you’ve seen Lucifer do when he doesn’t understand something that someone has said to him. “Uh. No, sir, I don’t think so.” Part of your ‘job description,’ as Alastor put it, was sometimes showing him non-television style technology and demonstrating its uses for him. You had gone over flip phones, Walkman's, CD players, pagers, and more recently some small tablets and compact computers. Digital cameras were out of the question, as were actual televisions whether they be old or new.

He didn’t like any of them, would have rather not bothered with the whole idea by his own admission. But he felt it necessary to understand what he could about the things that gave Vox so much power over people, and being the most recently dead at the Hotel you had the most up-to-date information. You were also one of the few who didn’t begrudge Alastor his preference for older tech- you had died while AI was a big thing on Earth, and that had freaked you out enough at times that you could appreciate hardwiring that didn’t talk back to you unprompted. Usually he stood a few feet away, far enough back that he could still watch without interrupting any frequencies, and allowed you to walk him through the various uses of the device.

“Lovely!” He says at your response, and then straightens up and crosses the room towards your bed of all places. “Now, I noticed at dinner that you’ve seemed quite out of sorts lately. Are you getting enough rest?”

What?

“Yes, sir, I think so,” you tell him, eying him warily. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying for Velvette to help with her shoots- light composition and all that, but-“

He makes a noise at you, something that sounds like an admonishment. “Come now,” he says, “you mustn’t be neglecting your beauty sleep for a Vee, even if she is the most tolerable of the lot!” He takes a seat on your bed- what? - and gently pats the pillow at the head. “In you go, my dear. I can’t have my little assistant lacking.”

You raise your eyebrows but decide not to argue on the matter. He’s been in a weird mood all night, and you really are quite tired at this point. You approach cautiously, climbing into bed the opposite side of where he sits. “If you say so, Alastor.” You lay back against the pillow, not bothering yet to get under the covers. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You glance towards the door, hoping that he will rise and leave you.

“Hahaha!” He laughs instead, rotating his body so that he can face you more fully. ‘No, I think not my dear! I’ll stay to make sure you get some proper shut-eye.”

Your heart beats faster. No way would you be able to actually sleep with him in the room. “That’s really okay,” you try to tell him, but when you sit up he places a hand gently on your shoulder and guides you back down to the pillow.

“Naughty girl,” he admonishes, and the words send a rush of heat across your face. “I truly insist! You rest up, and I’ll be right here to ensure that you do!”

“Oookay,” you finally agree, and lean back against the pillows stiffly. It's torture for a long few minutes, where you try to regulate your breathing and not focus on the fact that he’s so close to you, in your bed. Eventually though, despite your heartbeat in your throat, you do start to relax a bit.

“Hmmm.” Alastor hums where he sits in the bed next to you, and while his smile is, of course, still present, his eyes have a kind of far off look in them.

“Alastor? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, quite alright!” He says in his typical fashion. “But I must admit I find myself rather curious about something, and I was hoping you could help me gain some enlightenment.”

“Sure; however I can help.”

“Splendid!” He claps his hands together. Your nightstand is enveloped in shadows, and when it re-emerges your rose toy sits front and center on top. You choke on your spit a bit, sputtering as Alastor looks at you. “I heard you mention to Angel Dust that this is a ‘sex toy’ earlier, but you didn’t go into any further detail! What exactly is the function of such a thing?”

You were going to drop double dead right here in your bedroom, with Alastor sitting atop your sheets and looking curiously between you and the toy. “Oh God, uh…” He raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Shit, um, that’s not really- it’s kinda a private thing,” you sputter out, but he just continues to smile at you as you attempt to sink through the bed, through the floor, into a special kind of Hell reserved for moments as awkward as this one.

“I confess, my dear, a contribution to my terrible manners earlier stemmed from the idea that you might be holding back information.” He plucked the small device off the night stand and turned it this way and that in his hand. “When I thought about how you mentioned to Angel that it was a ‘sex toy,’ though, I realized that we had never established any sort of boundary as far as what kinds of technology you would show me per the confines of our deal!” He placed a hand to his forehead, an exaggerated face palm. “Which was quite silly of me, of course.”

You were going to stop breathing.

“Naturally I wouldn't want to make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he continued, tucking the hand not holding the intimate technology under his chin to look at you thoughtfully. “And really, I doubt this is any kind of device that could do any true damage in the coming battle between myself and Vox. But one can never be too sure!” 

He holds it out to you, and though you take it with trembling hands you are still trying to explain. “Sir- Alastor - this is very much not the kind of technology that you would be interested in.”

“Oh but I am!” He assures you, and he sits cross legged now beside you. “I am quite interested in learning more about such a strange device. And did you not say that there was no technology that you were uncomfortable with demonstrating?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And- pardon my eavesdropping, of course- did you not also tell Angel Dust that you received the device from Velvette, a known ally of my personal enemy and a demon bent on destroying me?”

You close your eyes tightly. This was too much. “Yes, I did. But-”

He makes a noise at you, like a parent would to an unruly child. “Well now, how am I to know that the device was not planted on Velvette by the others? Not merely a gift to a friend but something orchestrated by Vox to destroy me and everything I care for?” He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I would so hate to see you harmed, my dear. Will you not show me how it works to ease my worried thoughts?”

Your breath is stuck in your throat as you swallow hard. You… suppose he raised a valid point, as awkward as you felt about it. You knew that despite your deal he felt some apprehension about allowing you to spend so much time with Velvette, even with what you were providing him with in return. If this was what it would take to ease some of the tension in his mind…

“I… okay,” you said finally on an exhale, and looked back down at the toy. Your voice trembled as you held it up for him to see. “Do you… I mean, usually you stand a little ways away, sir.”

His grin stretches up his face, eyes glowing red as he watches you fiddle with the object in your hand. “Oh no, darling, I’m quite content right here.”

“Right.” The blush on your face nearly permanent at this point, you rotate the device so that you can reach the button on the side. “There’s this little, um, button on the side to turn it on.” you press the button and the noise immediately starts, subtle but all too loud in the space between you and Alastor. Your cheeks are burning. “There are a few different uh, strength settings. For the. Suction.” The smile on Alastor’s face is etched in stone, and he leans closer to you as you cycle through the different speed settings. You can’t look at him anymore, dropping your eyes into your lap as you hold up the toy. “Next, uh…”

“What is the suction for, dear?”

When you look up you nearly jump back in shock; he’s moved even closer, his face right in front of yours when you’ve brought it up. “I- what?”

He places his hand over yours on the rose. “The suction. Whatever could it be for?” You try to lean back and he follows you, bent nearly in half as he does. “You could use-”

“No!” You push the toy into his hands, desperate for escape from this situation, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I mean, not no no, but- you don’t want to see that-”

“My dear.” He sets the device to the side, using one of his hands to bring your face up to look at him. He comes even closer, essentially crawling across the bed and hovering over you- what the fuck what the fuck- while you do your best to sink into the pillow. “As entertaining as it is to see you so flustered, I truly was looking for a more practical demonstration. Won’t you show me?”

If your heart flutters any harder it will burst from your chest. But he’s being so insistent that he doesn’t mind the nature of the device and that he wants an actual showing of how it’s used. You take a deep, shaky breath and commit to it- he’s asked, and you’ll indulge Alastor anything he asks of you. You reach to the side of him and take hold of the toy. “I haven’t, uh. Used it before,” you tell him.

 His eyes flash red and the smile stretches as he leans back the slightest bit. “No time like the present then!” He chirps, the static in his voice more pronounced that it had been thus far. When you move your hand to your waistband you hesitate, but his eyes zero in on the movement. “By all means,” he says, “don’t stop on my account.”

Another deep breath and you clench your eyes shut, not able to make eye contact with him as you remove your bottoms. With your eyes closed you don’t see the way that his widen; so focused on your own breathing that you don’t notice his sharp inhale at your movements as you settle back into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed as you bring the toy to your lower body, debate for a moment, and decide to position it before switching it on.

You’re hyperaware of Alastor’s gaze on you even without being able to see it. Your hands tremble as you place the small gap in the top over your clit, spreading your legs slightly for a better angle. A hand on your thigh makes your eyes fly open, and when you make eye contact with Alastor you clench them shut again, unable to do this knowing that he’s touching you-

Without realizing, your hands have tightened their grip on the toy and pressed the button to turn it onto the lowest suction strength. The sudden strong sucking on your most sensitive spot has a harsh moan tumbling from your lips, your head tossing back into the pillow and Alastor’s fingers tightening imperceptibly on your skin, claws digging in ever so slightly. It's so much and so sudden, almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure if you should curse Velvette or send her a gift basket.

“What does it feel like?” The static is gone from Alastor’s voice, and when you find the strength to open your eyes he’s much closer to your… demonstration than you would have expected him to be. Close enough to taste, not that he would, but the thought of it alone has your hips lifting from the bed, desperate for more that you know he won’t give you.

“It’s so- ugh, fuck,” is what you manage, and his eyes are hooded and focused so intently on you. You hope that this is giving him whatever information he was hoping to gather, because there was no way in any of the nine rings of Hell that you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again after this.

“Eloquent, darling,” he says, still no static to the words, and then his spare hand is placed over yours on the rose toy and jumping the suction up by a couple levels.

Another unbidden moan rips itself from your chest, your free hand clenching the sheets on the bed as Alastor holds your other to the toy on your clit. You’re soaked by this point, arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, and you’re so close already without the added stimulation of the harsher suction. “Fuck fuck fuck, God,” you get out between your panting, and his chuckle brings your gaze back to him, not realizing that your eyes had rolled back as you rode the waves of pleasure.

His other hand, the one that had been on your thigh, is now posed by your entrance, his glove discarded somewhere on the bed and his fingers mere centimeters away from where you suddenly, desperately want them to be. “There’s no God here, my dear,” he says darkly, “but perhaps I can be persuaded to worship you instead.” The suction increases again, his pressing of the button subtle, but it's too much, too much-

Your vision goes dark with the strength of your orgasm, the coil in your stomach snapping as you arch up with a drawn out gasp of his name. There’s static in the room, drowning out the sound of your cries as you ride through your release, and you can just barely see Alastor through your half-closed eyes, his own eyes lidded and his pupils blown wide as his smile is stretched as far as the sudden green stitches would allow. 

He holds down on the power button to turn the device off, pulling it- and his hands- away from your body. You allow your eyes to drift shut, breathing heavily as you lay back into the pillows. You can hear the vague sounds of something moving around, your nightstand opening and closing though the space on the bed is still dipped down from his weight. You’re trying to gather the strength to say something, to explain yourself maybe- because how could you let yourself get so far gone that you said his name mid-orgasm, Jesus- when the dip in the mattress disappears.

“Well, that was quite enlightening!” You hear him say, and when you drag your eyes open he’s standing on the other side of the bed, his expression totally normal aside from the permanent smile. “I do so appreciate your compliance, my dear, in helping to ease my mind about such a strange device.”

“I- yeah, sure,” you manage to get out without stuttering too much, and how composed he is now, while you are still half naked and heaving from your release, has your face flaming. “Anytime. Happy to help.”

His eyes lower. “Funny you should say that! I did notice a few more devices in your drawer- were these items gifts from Velvette as well?”

You had forgotten about the variety of other toys you kept near your bed, and your blush renews, your face hot at the thought of what he had seen. “No, sir,” you tell him, and he makes a little humming noise similar to the one he had earlier. 

You think about how his pupils had been so dilated, his fingers poised and ready to join the fray while you used the toy, and add as an afterthought- “Some of them are uh, VoxTech brand though.” You hoped you weren’t wrong, and the positively lecherous look that his smile takes on confirms it for you.

“How interesting!” he exclaims. “I suppose there may be other demonstrations in order then, hm? After all, it never hurts to be thorough!” He holds a hand out to you and you place your own into it, allowing him to bring it to his lips for a soft kiss. “And I do plan on being quite thorough, darling. I hope we can find the time to reconvene soon- in the meantime, sweet dreams.” 

With that he melts into shadows and vanishes, and no sooner than the black puddle on the floor disappeared have you whipped your phone out of the pocket of your discarded bottoms. You text Velvette first, a series of emojis that she has no hope of deciphering- her response of ‘TF r u on about???’ confirming that thought- and then Angel, asking for recommendations before pulling up the VoxTech website and taking a look at the options you don’t currently have in your drawer.

Like Alastor said- it doesn’t hurt to be thorough!

[wandixx]

Ok it closes out on me when I tried typing it the first time-

Anyway, I'm a sucker for shock value ones, just so funny to me, so how about M'gann being nervous about introducing bf danny and it happens at an inconvenient time! Could go ghost royalty, ancient of space or anything, hell ghost as dragons would be pretty funny, up to you though!

I'm not sure if I did a good job at this, but I didn't want you to wait too long and real life is keepimg me busier than expected, so for now, it's here. I may continue it one day (I also have different version of fill for this prompt, because neither idea felt right, so if you'd like to see I too, just let me know whatever way is most convenient to you)

This wasn't supposed to happen like that. M'gann didn't have a super detailed plan on how it was supposed to happen, but even her vague (thought and rethought every night) ideas were anything but this. It was supposed to be a calm, low-stakes situation. Maybe even make it look like an accidental meeting, Team in civies hanging out around Happy Harbour, bumping into Danny and then she'd just introduced him, perhaps adding ‘btw, he is my boyfriend’ almost like an afterthought. This seemed like the best possible scenario.

This was also, as expected with the way hero life is, the exact opposite of what actually happened.

Of course, it didn’t start with anything heralding the absolute disaster this day had to become. Kinda accidentally the Team stumbled upon something between a cave and a basement, and in it a group of people, who decided to perform a summoning of a genie so they could… wish for stuff. They didn’t even look like cultists or villains of any sort, just a group of random adults from seemingly very different backgrounds. M’gann had a really hard time understanding what actually brought them together other than their wishes.

Which was actually pretty useful when it came to fighting them, because nobody really cared about their fellow summoner, just trying to save their own butt. She kinda wished more of their opponents were so incompetent.

Though, she spoke too soon because in the excitement of the fight, somehow all of them didn’t realize that one or two of the summoners… actually managed to finish a summoning. It was honestly a little bit embarrassing.

But, it was too late to dwell on all that, as right above the summoning circle appeared a circle in a worryingly familiar shade of green.

Of course, this one time she didn’t have any equipment from Danny, had to be when the Team encountered a ghost.

Ghost in question was a beautiful woman, with long hair covering one of her eyes, in a blue outfit that was related to one of Earth cultures, but M’gann didn’t know which, and a bunch of bracelets on her wrists. Martian could make a hazard guess on who it was, based on the stories Danny told her.

“We don’t have time for explanations, I think I know who this is, if I’m right for the love of everything that’s dear to you, don’t say the word ‘wish’ out loud” she demanded over the Mindlink.

Before she finished, Artemis took silver tape from somewhere and slapped a piece of it over Wally’s mouth. M’gann understood the sentiment but still… it was a little bit too nuclear option.

Desiree (if it was her) didn’t attack anyone, looking a bit confused, giving Team a moment of reprieve to plan and for Kid Flash to make sure none of the summoners could make whatever wish they wanted either. Also with the use of silver tape. Djinn’s were always tricky.

M'gann used this moment of everyone getting their bearings to curse herself for not bringing any ghost weapons this time. Any other mission, Team or not, she had something on her but today? Today she had nothing.

Excluding the summoning engraved into clips holding her cape but it was kinda last resort. It wouldn't annihilate everything in one mile radius or something but she didn't want to drag Danny there if he was during a test, other ghost fight or something. She knew better than anyone that he didn’t need more distractions.

Conner crashed into a wall right next to her. Artemis seemed to lose her cool when none of her arrows seemed to reach the ghost while Robin was trying to make some counter plans with Kaldur. They couldn't do a thing to Desiree and it was a matter of seconds before she stopped entertaining them and went to the city. It… would end badly, most likely. Danny would prefer to get involved before it got that far. Yeah…

She really wished she didn’t have to call.

“I have an idea, cover for me for a minute or two”

“Bold of you to assume we can stop her from anything”

“I believe in you Wally. Just distract her”

“My water attacks seem to be effective weapon against her”

“That’s aster! What do you plan to do, M'gann?”

“Summon another ghost”

She expertly ignored yelling that followed, taking the golden clip off of her cape. She held fabric in place with absentminded use of telekinesis, while she focused on an engraved pattern. Danny's summoning circle wasn't actually too complicated or intricate but she needed to do it just right. And frankly, she just liked looking at it. Physical proof that her boyfriend would be there if she needed it. Drawn representation of who he is, the deepest and truest parts of his soul written in the language that only Universe itself could fully understand.

And it was beautiful. Absolutely incredible. Much better than Desiree's circle, thank you very much.

M’gann dropped to her knees and grabbed leftover chalk from previous summoning and crouched to quickly draw Danny's seal. She had a lot of practice from all the times she doodled it on a whim just to get something of him with her when she missed him the most. She rarely actually summoned him, again, it was difficult to align their schedules, but she was very familiar with the first step.

And it was really easy from there.

She placed the clip in the middle of the circle, shapeshifted one of her nails to get a bit of blood on the chalk and leaned back.

After a careful, deep breath, she started an incantation, putting as much power in her voice as she could.

“I call upon you guard of Amity Park, I call upon you dearest child of the Ice, I call upon you one favored by the Time, I call upon you vanquisher of the Fear, I call upon you subduer of the King, I call upon you defender and the guide, I call upon Phantom, both worlds beloved child”

Circle erupted in green light, putting a momentary pause to the fight. M’gann was still blinking spots away when a figure flung itself out of the summoning circle, right at the Desiree.

“What the fuck?!”

Only after the first punch was thrown did Danny turn back to her, with his usual, somehow both gallant and bashful smile, that without fault made her knees get a little weaker. She smiled back.

“Hello Starlight” he greeted, sounding almost casual.

“Starlight?”

“Hi Angel. Nice of you to drop by” she answered in the same manner. Wally tried to yell from behind the duck tape.

“Angel?! M'gann, who is he? Who is she?!”

“I will always come if you call” he said without any doubt, suddenly as serious as if he was sharing information that could break or make the world.

It certainly worked like that to her world. She actually melted a little on the inside.

“I know”

“Actually, that's kinda cute. I still have no idea who this is, but you go girl”

“I feel like it's not the right time Artemis”

“Not to interrupt… whatever this is, but the other ghost is escaping” Robin cut in “Also, if you want to make out afterwards, please find the room, Batman and Catwoman are traumatizing enough“

Few people snorted, while Danny blushed green. He darted back at Desiree, clearly to escape the embarrassment. M’gann stood up, totally at ease now, that he was there to take care of it.

“Will you need a hand? I don't have any tech but we have a trick or two up our sleeves!” she asked, projecting her voice so it carried through the cavernous basement without yelling.

“I'm good for now but thanks for asking!”

“M’gann, can you give us anything substantial? Who is this? How do you know him?”

“One question at the time and let's wait until he finishes, okay?“

She cut off Mindlink before anyone agreed or protested.

“Miss Martian!”

“Soup time!”

With a blast of light, Desiree got sucked in and Danny landed in front of them with a proud grin.

“My job here is done”

“It truly is. You're getting faster too”

“And thanks to who is that?”

“You”

Danny sent her both an incredulous and playful glare.

“Of course. I miraculously found a ways to not be a mess and don't crash through every wall on my way and–”

“Well, no but–”

“Let me remind you, you're not alone… also who are you dude? And where did the other lady go?” Wally asked, right after ripping the duct tape off his mouth.

“Oh, well, I'm Phantom, I usually work in Amity Park?” he said a bit unsure, as if calling him a protector was under any question. That just wouldn't do.

“He's a hero from Amity Park”

“Thanks love. It's nice to finally meet you all. M talked a lot about you!”

“Can't say same about you, sorry”

“That's fine. I know M was agonizing over how to introduce me in the best way possible. I'm really happy it's finally over,” he paused for a moment, with his brows furrowed “Did I do good? This first impression thing?”

“You're… far less imposing that I personally expected after hearing Miss Martian summoning you, but–”

“M’gann how could you hide this from us?” Conner blurted out quietly, and oh, he sounded so utterly crushed. Everyone fell silent, the playful atmosphere gone as if it had evaporated.

“I never intentionally hid it. It wasn't significant enough to mention at the start and when it became important I felt like I couldn't just drop it at you during lunch or something. I always planned to tell you, there was just never the right time nor right words. I never wanted to hide it.”

“Even just me?”

“Especially you”

“You still should've…”

“Yeah, I should. I'm sorry”

“How long ago have you met?”

“Half a year ago,” Danny said before she managed to answer “It's all kinda my fault actually. I was really set on not getting mixed up with more hero business than I had to back then. I didn't want you or Justice League finding out about me. And when I agreed, it was already really late. I'm sure she'd told you all from the get go if I let her, I'm sorry”

“Why wouldn't you want us to know about you?”

“It's… Probably not the conversation we should have right here, over gagged wannabe cultists.”

“Valid. Let's call the cops and get going. You two have much to explain”

“And you're sitting eight feet apart until you do!”

Danny leaned in to kiss her, quick and playful, before he jumped back at the demanded distance.

“Well, this still went better than at your side”

“Absolutely”

*******

Also, here is some lil arts for a longish wait, sorry again, I hope this story is yours to your expectations

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 8)

Jake Kizska x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult content, language, brief illusions to sex, angst, jealousy, etc.

Only two chapters to go and an epilogue, everyone. I’m so grateful that you have taken this little journey with me. Thank you so much for all your kind words, support, and care. You’re all so wonderful ❤️

“Oh my god, Jake,” your eyes are darting around the room like a mouse with a rabid alley cat slinking, famished and cruel, into its path.

Your unease trumps his delighted gloating instantly, “What do you want me to do, sugar? Tell me and I��ll do it.”

When you steal a glance at the window, longing to climb out and disappear, he hops on the train of your thought process right away, “You want me to duck out?”

You know Jake through and through, and staring into his eyes as your heart drums paranoid vibrations into your rib cage, you’re stunned to watch him offer to give up this chance to square off with whom he has come to see as his most bitter rival. That he would do that for you? That all you would have to do is ask and he would crawl out and wander off into the golden afternoon sunshine like an afterthought…

You really do own his whole heart, you realize at the most inopportune of moments. Your grip on his soul is just as tight as his fingers have always clawed down inside yours…fierce and beautiful in their unrelenting grip.

But haven’t you always known? Hasn’t it always been written across his skin? Etched in his gaze? Sculpted into the bow of his lips when he whispers your name? Evident in his touch?

“No,” you shake your head, willing the mess inside of it to go away, rejecting the thought of him leaving. You want him near, you need him near. To let him go right now, even for a second, seems an agonizing punishment that you cannot bear to suffer. No matter the consequences.

“Stay. But please…” you rush over to him, helping him to his feet while stealing glances at the doorway, “Please just behave and follow my lead, okay? Please?”

”Normally, I like it when you use your manners,” he sighs, smoothing out his clothes, as well as a lock of your hair that has fluttered out of place, “But that’s too many pleases and you look petrified. Why?” His voice is suddenly intense yet careful, as is his grip on your arm, “Does he hurt you?”

They idea is entirely laughable, but there’s no time for that, so you brush him off with a swipe of your hand and a flippant, “Don’t be stupid, Jake.”

Without allowing yourself to think it through, you begin ushering him down the hall towards the front room, but what will you find there? Doom or salvation?

How will these pieces fall together? Something solid and heavy in your heart tells you Jake will do as you have asked and play nice, but another facet buried even deeper inside is rocked with anxiety and screaming that it’s only wishful thinking to believe such a fairytale.

”Hey hon,” jovially rings out as he steps in through the garage, “I saw your car! We’re both home early? Looks like the universe knew how much I missed you!”

Jake turns to catch your eye as you shove him along, but you refuse to meet his gaze. You're unsure of what you’ll find there and this isn’t the time for uncertainties.

Would you find sadness threatening to roll hot tears down his cheeks? Anger threatening to boil over in his fiery chocolate irises? Accusation and resentment for what you’re about to subject him to?

Oh god, you can’t do this! Suddenly, and absurdly, you wish you could fade into the gentle, lush, green paint that you had once rolled upon the hallway walls, paying meticulous attention to detail. Build this home, had been the plan…bury him away under paint and sanded cabinets. Art perched on the walls and throw pillows piled on the bed.

You’d love to disappear and leave them perplexed and confused, wondering what became of you. To vanish into nothing like a dust mote blown away upon the lightest, softest breeze.

You’re a coward.

While your thoughts are busy with that, Jake’s are grappling with each other. Tangled up and struggling. He’d very much like to stomp into the front room and shut this man up. With his booming voice calling out how much he’s missed you like he has some claim over you. Like you’re his. Like he doesn’t understand that you could never really be anyone’s because you’re much too good for this whole goddamn world. That you’re precious, like the rarest of stones and anyone who is lucky enough to hold you in their palm should fall on their knees in thanks.

He sounds so fucking common. Does he think you’re common as well? Jake can’t stomach the thought.

So, yes, he’d like to stroll into the room, casual as you please, and announce that he is taking you away from this ridiculous illusion where you play house and pretend to be satisfied. He longs to tell him how he’s made love to you, how he’s fucked you. How you’ve begged for him and swore no one could ever be him. Jake wants to tell him that the ring he put on your finger has been in his mouth, that he spat it out and you didn’t even care. That you hardly even noticed. Jake would almost kill to watch Mr. Wonderful’s face crumple in defeat and loss…

But he loves you far too much, and to say all those things would hurt you, too.

Scar your heart he will not.

He’s shrugging off his suit blazer when you both appear. It’s a mundane action, one that repeats itself nearly every evening, but you stand still and shellshocked, unable to jolt yourself into some semblance of normalcy until Jake subtly nudges you with a ginger elbow.

“Hi,” you begin, a touch too loudly, “Yeah, you’re early! I actually didn’t end up going to work today. Old friend in town. We went to the movies. And then we came here. He wanted to see the house. I…I told him about it. I was just giving him the tour.”

You sound robotic and ridiculous, but he doesn’t appear to notice. Rather, he looks delighted when his eyes land on Jake and recognition settles in.

”Ah, I know you!” He laughs, marching forward with an outstretched hand. “The almost brother in law. Good to finally meet you.”

His grasp on Jake’s hand is strong and sure as he pumps it up and down. The genuine gladness in his gesture makes you want to tear your own hair out in penance.

Or is it the ‘almost brother in law’ moniker that has made you nauseous?

Yes, that’s what you boiled Jacob down to. You had held nothing back about your relationship with Josh…but Jake? You just couldn’t. To speak of him, to share him that way…it had seemed incomprehensible. And how could you ever put it into words, anyway? How could anyone ever understand what he was to you? What he is to you? No, it had seemed best to keep him locked away, silent and safe in your memories. Tucked away in your heart. The boy in the bubble.

Jake’s face is unreadable as he sizes up this opponent before him. This rival who has just unknowingly stepped into the ring. This blissfully unaware adversary. He is a doe who has wandered idly into the path of a dangerously ravenous mountain lion, and he doesn’t even know it. Ignorance really does seem like bliss in this moment, and you long for it.

“Yes, the almost brother in law,” his tone is slightly clipped, but no one, aside from you - and perhaps his brothers - would ever notice. “That’s me. And you are?”

Here we go. He’s going to love this.

They drop hands and a friendly clap lands on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m Jake, too. What are the odds?”

A sharp, satisfied laugh bursts out of Jake, head tipped back, adam’s apple bobbing gleefully, and you long to tell the smug bastard to just shut the hell up, but it’s over quickly enough.

”Yes,” he sighs, with a shake of his head that ends in his eyes blazing holes into your soul, “What are the odds?”

”’Course this one over here calls me by my middle name, James. Says it fits me. No one else does, though, so choice is yours. Man, it’s so great to finally meet you.” He’s prattling on now, never having met a stranger, “You know we’ve got all your work over there in the case. You’re a hell of a guitar player. I tried to learn in high school, mostly to impress girls…never could get it. Anyway…”

Jake is eyeing him like he doesn’t know what to make of this man standing there, cordial and warm, tossing out compliments and bids for conversation.

His eyes are traveling over this unfamiliar being, now so tangible and real, who has had his hands all over you. Who has had his mouth pressed to your precious body, who has whispered against your skin, who has made love to you in the still of the night, and held you, and rested beside you, breathing in tandem. Who has gotten down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

And you said yes...you said yes.

He wants to hurt him. Both physically and emotionally. He wants to level him. To crush him into nothing. And though this Jake, James, or whatever his name is, isn’t to blame, he wants it all the same. He wishes he could lure him into his palm like a revolting insect and squeeze until he was no more than something vile to be wiped away with a Kleenex.

Instead, he tilts his head in the direction of the vinyls and shrugs off the accolades, “Fuckin’ Zeppelin cover band.”

James laughs uproariously and gestures into the room welcomingly, “Why are we all standing around like this? Have a seat…please. Make yourself at home. Can I get you something to drink? Water? A beer? Whiskey? I know it’s early, but special occasions call for special circumstances, I always say.”

Eyes on you, he shrugs out a response that would be lost on anybody but you, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Once you’re alone for a moment, he shakes his head with a gorgeous, if not self-satisfied, smirk sparking to life upon his face. “His name is Jake? Oh, sugar…” he’s laughing softly now, and sinking down into the cushions of the couch, “creature of habit, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

”Shut up!” You hiss, eyes flickering towards the kitchen doorway, “Coincidence. That’s all. Don’t be so fucking full of yourself. Now, please just be nice.”

He quiets down, drawing the back of his forefinger beneath his eye dramatically as if he has laughed himself to tears, “I’m being very nice and you know it. Don’t push it.”

You sit, as far away from him as the couch will allow, but instantly he’s leaned in close. “What do you think he would do if I got down on my knees right here and buried my face in that gorgeous little cunt of yours? Showed him how it’s really done.”

”Jacob!” You barely make a sound as you admonish him with a clipped shove to settle him.

He slinks back into his seat with another laughing shake of his head, “This is perfect.”

”I hate you.” You lie.

”Sure you do, sugar,” he winks, crossing his legs to get comfy, “Sure you do. Almost brother in law, huh? Is that what I’ve been reduced to?”

He’s still chuckling quietly to himself while a strange mix of panic and tears begins to churn around inside of you like a slow moving summer storm. He’s gearing up, you can feel it, and the thought of it all is too much, your metaphorical knees are beginning to shake. This could end so, so badly.

“Later, Jake…” you’re beseeching without shame, pleading with your watery gaze. “We’ll talk about it later. Please just stop.”

His palm cradles your cheek so softly you wonder if anyone has ever touched someone as gently as he touches you, “Settle down, baby. I won’t make trouble for you.”

How laughable that he can’t seem to recognize that you’ve brought this trouble on all by yourself. No help needed.

He has moved to create a respectable distance between the two of you by the time James is sweeping back into the room bearing a tray flush with drinks and snacks.

”Here, sweetie,” he drops a kiss upon the top of your head, presenting a glass. “Made you a mimosa…I know you like to keep it light through the week.”

You somehow manage a thank you and sip at the sweet, bubbly mix, praying it calms your frayed nerves.

”For us,” he extends the tray and you watch as Jake plucks a low ball glass from it, “bourbon. Unless you’d rather browse the bar. Plenty to choose from.”

”Bourbon is fantastic,” Jake nips at his glass. “Thank you.”

There is a palpable disdain hovering around Jake like a murky aura, but there is heartbreak there too. Aching and black. Heavy and weighing down the light that normally follows him around like a strange shadow…and you’d give anything to take it away.

For just a breath, you intend to do just that. To rise to your feet and stomp all over James’ open, trusting heart. To tell him the truth. To tell him you’re leaving. You nearly take Jake by the hand and drag him towards the door and leave everything else behind without explanation…simply to end his suffering.

Your lips nearly part to say the words when you’re cut off.

“Oh. I almost forgot,” James leans forward in his chair and grabs for your hand, absently running his thumb against your own, “Erin called. She said you guys had a great time the other day, said you’d planned something for this weekend? Wedding planning?”

Erin. His sister. You’ve grown close but it wouldn’t hurt to leave her behind. It wouldn’t even sting…not for Jake.

You squeeze his hand with a tiny smile and fight rolling nausea at the mere mention of the wedding in Jake’s presence. From the corner of your eye, you watch him tense, but he recovers quickly and drains his glass to the dredges in one pull.

”Well,” suddenly, he’s on his feet. “I’ve taken enough of your time today. It was good to see you.” His eyes are unreadable and shift quickly away from your own. “James, good to meet you and thank you for the hospitality.”

”Don’t run off on my account,” James is on his feet now as well, “We’d love to have you stay for dinner. I make a mean chicken Kiev, and…”

”No,” Jake interrupts, gaze jumping towards the door as if he can’t get away fast enough. “I’ve got a flight to catch in just a few hours, need to head back…you know how it goes.”

He sounds ineloquent and so unlike himself… and you can feel it - his heartbreak - in your bones as though you’ve crawled inside his body and curled up beside it like a clinging lover.

“Jake,” you can’t seem to move from your seat, your body uncooperative and rebellious, “Your car is still at the theater, let me drive you…”

”Drive me?” He is staring at you, white hot and desperate…the mask is finally slipping. He has played pretend all he can for the day. “And then what?”

”And then…” again, you are a coward. A fucking coward. “I don’t know. What do you mean, and then?”

The room is silent for a beat - with words unspoken crashing into the space between yourself and Jake, and James struggling to understand this strange exchange.

With the slightest nod of his head, Jacob silently encourages you. Urges you. Come with me, sugar…it seems to say, come home.

But still you sit, frozen and paralyzed. A horrified doe staring down the hunter’s muzzle.

Another nod, clipped and more obvious this time, responds to your inaction. “I’ll walk. Again, thank you for having me.”

The door closes behind him in a blink, and he is gone. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve imagined him completely…

Looking down at your shaking hands in your lap, you realize you never even made it to your feet. You sat, unmoving, and watched him go.

~

Hours later, you’re standing outside an unfamiliar door, anxiously clutching at the straps of the bag tossed over your shoulder.

And when that unfamiliar door swings open, your heart unclenches, for there he stands. Showered, smelling of soap and warmth, hair curled into dampened, loose ringlets, beat to hell jeans riding low on his hips.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “If it isn’t Mrs. Wonderful…”

“Hi,” it comes out meek and small, but flush full of the comfort that is being near him.

”How’d you find me?” His arms cross loosely, with a faded smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

”Were you hiding?” Why hasn’t he turned to lead you in?

”From you, pretty girl?” He scoffs as if the very idea is preposterous. “Never.”

Yet, on he stands as though barring your entrance…as though he intends to send you on your way any moment.

”I called Josh,” you offer, wringing at your bag’s handles idly, simply for something to do with your hands. “He told me where you were staying.” Your gaze skitters over the house. “It’s nice. Cozy.”

He nods, “Airbnb. You mentioned something about us always being in hotels, before. I thought, if there was a chance I’d be hosting you, you might like something a little more…domestic. Though, I see now that you have plenty of that going for you already, right? Domesticity?”

“Do I deserve that?”

His shoulders hunch inwardly slightly, he knows you’re right, and he knows he’s being a bit of an asshole as well. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

”Are you going to invite me in? I feel a little stupid standing out here.” Vulnerability seems of such insignificance when it is Jacob in question. He knows your bare soul so well anyway.

Still, he allows you to dangle on his string, twisting languidly in the soft, evening breeze. “Why’d you call Josh to find me? Why not just call me? Missing my better half now that you’ve had a bit of fun with me?”

Now there’s a slight irritation traipsing along your nerves, and damned if you’re going to mask it. “Alright, either let me in or tell me to go to hell. I’m not going to beg for your good graces.”

”Are you coming in to stay? Or are you here to say goodbye? Because my heart has had enough for one day.”

”Oh, fuck off, Jacob.” You huff, pushing past him into the house. You slump your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor and then turn on him. “Sorry to have interrupted your pity party, but what did you think was going to happen today? Did you think it was going to be spectacular and wonderful to walk around in the life that I live with someone else? You practically fucked me in the bedroom I share with him. You lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree when you realized he was home. You wanted this, and you know what I think your problem is? I think you liked him.”

”Fuck you!” He slams the door closed and looks you over like you’ve lost your mind entirely. “You think I liked him? I couldn’t give a fuck less about him. He made my skin crawl. Do you know what it was like for me to watch him touch you? The way he looked at you…”

He falls silent and suddenly refuses to meet your eyes, and your heart breaks right alongside his.

Tentatively, you reach out and rest your palm against his cheek, “The way he looked at me doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It never really has.”

His hand floats up to meet yours, “He looked at you with so much love. Like he would give you the entire world. It made me feel not good enough. It made me feel like I should leave and let it be. Like I was wrong for showing up and rattling your whole life around.”

You’re backing him up against the door now, his gorgeous, stricken face held fast in your sure and gentle hands. “Not good enough? You? Oh, Jakey…” you pet at his face worshipfully, “We have a garden, remember? And you help me harvest, and I know you feed me those tiny tomatoes I like. You know? The little yellow ones? And they’re all gone before we even get inside.”

He’s nodding along as you pepper kisses upon his cheeks and forehead.

“And we have a porch swing, and a piano, and beautiful babies, and a cat…and you sing to us, and love us hard every single minute of every single day. And you make us so, so happy. And I wake up every morning with a smile on my face because I packed this stupid bag,” your foot darts out and kicks it, “and shoved my way inside when you refused to invite me in.”

”Don't say things you don’t mean, sugar…” his hands are in your hair now, guiding your mouth to his own so that he can lick inside it. He needs to taste you - needs to feel the silken velvet of your tongue, “I can’t take it, baby.”

You’re breathing each other's breath, lips like feathers dancing together soft and sweet, holding on to one another as if you might both just vanish into nothing in an instant, “I mean it, Jake…” you promise, “I mean it. You are everything,”

You can almost hear the pounding of his heart as the heat of his need begins to radiate and warm you, “Because I can’t stand the thought of leaving, of thinking you’ll follow, only for you to change your mind. It would kill me, sugar. So, please don’t say these things to me if you—“

You silence him with a deep, feverish kiss and then break away, forehead to forehead, “I’m not following later. I’m coming with you. This is where I am now…with you.”

Tears well in his eyes and spill over, hot and saline, as you lick and kiss them away. “I love you, pretty girl…” it chokes out of him, rasping as he swallows thickly, “I love you so fucking much. I’ve imagined this moment in so many different ways, but it was never as perfect as this. Tell me you know how much I love you.”

”I know, and I—“ it is he who interrupts with a desperate kiss this time.

And you know that later he will ask, and when he asks you will tell him what was said back at that house that broke his heart in two - how you ended things with the one who really never mattered at all…

…but for now all that matters is the taste of him on your lips. His air-drying hair looped through your searching fingers. Your hearts and lungs syncing, with his tears like brackish diamonds in your stomach because you have finally swallowed his sorrow and unburdened him from it.

He seems lighter in your arms already…closer now to the sun than he had ever been to the moon before.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama

[thetriplets3]

Hi I have a request! In Taylor's new song there's lyrics "in the world of boys, he's a gentleman" could you do something about matt or chris with it??

❝𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧❞

matt was the first person to show me what love looked like. i had only been in one relationship that lasted 5 months then he “got bored” and started seeing someone before he even broke up with me.

i had my fair share of blind dates my friends insisted on setting me up with but none of them left me feeling loved. i always felt like an afterthought on these dates. they walk in the restaurant and head to a table leaving me trailing behind like a lost puppy. they’d spend the whole night talking themselves and finding a way to make it about them barely letting me get a word in, and they’d always ask for separate bills. those were the better of the dates. some of them would text me all day telling me how excited they were to see me and as soon as it came time for our date i was met with radio silence. i sat at countless tables repeatedly telling the server “he should be here soon”. i was embarrassed to be in this situation, especially since it isn’t the first time it’s happened.

there were plenty of times guys showed they were really just boys.

the last date i was on the guy wanted to take me to a fancy restaurant, saying i deserved to be given the best treatment. that was a lie. i’d been waiting in this high end restaurant alone for nearly an hour waiting. all my texts to him asking where he was got left on read. i was feeling self conscious, suddenly aware of everyone giving me pitiful looks, i don’t belong here i stand out like a sore thumb and it’s very obvious i’ve been stood up. my phone buzzed, causing me to immediately pick up my phone hoping he’d finally texted me back. a sigh escapes my lips when i see it’s a text from nick checking in on me.

nick

sooo how’s mr fancy treating you??

me

he ain’t shit. i’ve been waiting for him for almost an hour i feel like an animal at the zoo being stared at this is fucking embarrassing

nick

wtfff that’s horrible i’m so sorry. men suck

me

correction boys suck

nick

i say give him 20 minutes, if he doesn’t show up by then, leave

✿

~third person pov~

what she didn’t know is that nick had mentioned her situation to his brothers and without hesitation, matt headed to his room and changed into nicer clothes. nick and chris weren’t shocked when they saw matt all dressed up and heading out the door without a word. they know their brother would do anything for that girl, which is why he told her to wait, knowing matt would be there in minutes.

she has been by their side since grade 4. her and matt have always been closer than she was with the other boys. they were the perfect pair, they were meant for each other, just too shy to say anything. they didn’t need to admit anything though, their feelings showed through their actions.

matt pulled up to the restaurant and quickly made his way in scanning the dimly lit room for her beautiful face. within seconds his eyes meet her heartbroken face. he practically sprinted towards her, out of breath and ready with a fake excuse as to why he’s late.

hearing heavy quick steps in her direction, the girl whips head up only to be met with the person she really wanted to show up. a smile replaces her frown as she gets up, shimmying the hem off her dress down, and meets matt’s open arms.

“i’m so sorry i’m late, chris hurt himself so i had to bring him to the hospital. i would have texted you but my phone died and i was too panicked to try and call you” he says loud enough for people around to hear, before pulling her chair back to let her sit and tucking it in before seating himself. “once they saw chris i left and came straight here. i really didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long. i’m sorry love” he says, eyes boring into hers with sincerity.

“that’s okay you’re here now. i’m glad you were there to help him” the girl said, playing along with his story.

after finally eating, he paid for their meals and led her to the exit of the building with a gentle hand on her lower back. before heading outside he took off his jacket and put it on the girl.

“it’s cold out” he softly started, before holding the door open for her as she walks out the door with a true smile and a growing blush on her cheeks.

“thank you matt you didn’t have to do that. i was perfectly okay with leaving and getting an uber” she said as she gave him a hug and placed a delicate kiss to his cheek.

“you might have been okay with doing that but i’m not. you don’t deserve to get stood up and you got all dolled up i’d be mad at myself if i didn’t come here and just let you sit there even longer looking all pretty with no one there to appreciate you. i’d do anything for you in a heart beat, you know that” he said before holding her warm face in his hands, his eyes searching hers for approval. with a subtle nod and a glimmer in her eyes he wastes no time placing a sweet and loving kiss to her lips.

✿

~reader’s pov~

it wasn’t long after that night when matt asked me to be his girlfriend. he makes sure to show me everyday what it’s like to truly be loved. it’s the little things; subtly switching sides with me if we’re about to pass a group of creepy men or drunk boys; he’ll reach his hand behind him if he’s in the middle of a conversation or busy with something to hold my hand, letting me know he hasn’t forgotten about me; he always has extras of things i use often with him either in his car, his room or his backpack he’s got it. if my hairs bothering me and i forgot a hair clip or hair tie, he’s got one clipped to his bag and a hair tie around his wrist. if i need lip balm he’s got about 3 with him at any point, and he gets a taste of the strawberry lip balm each kiss, he can’t complain; knowing how clumsy and spatially unaware i am, any time i bend down to get something his hand is right there to stop me from bumping my head on it. he’ll brush my hair and attempt to braid it which usually ends up with him just playing with my hair, knowing how relaxing i find it. he can read me like a book he knows me better than anyone else and he’s always one step ahead of me, going that extra mile.

he makes me feel seen like no one has done before. i am his never ending thought, never an afterthought, like every boy made me feel like i was. matt has shown me what it’s like to be loved, i don’t know why i put up with being treated poorly for so long.

he’s a gentleman in a world full of boys

(not the lyrics but close enough)

taglist:

@antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @abbie13sworld @strniolo @luvsturniolo

[anniebeemine]

Bad Idea, Right?- s.r. x fem!reader

I saw Olivia Rodrigo in concert a while back. In the middle of Vampire, my ex (who I had been seeing on/off for months) called during it, which was insane because I was literally screaming my little heart out during the entire concert.

warnings: vague-ish smut, not super descriptive, Spencer is lowkey kind of a douchebag

You were sitting at your usual table in the café, surrounded by the chatter of your friends. The smell of coffee and pastries filled the air, and the conversation was lively, with everyone catching up on the latest gossip. But your mind was elsewhere, focused on the small device in your hand under the table.

You quickly typed out a message to Spencer, something light-hearted, trying to make him smile in between whatever work was keeping him away this time. It had been a few days since you’d last heard from him, and while you understood that his job could be demanding, it still tugged at your heart whenever the silence stretched too long.

Spencer had a habit of disappearing, of dropping off the face of the earth with no explanation, ignoring your calls and messages for what felt like an eternity. You’d spend days worrying, wondering if something had happened to him, if he was okay, if he was ever going to come back. And then, just when you’d start to resign yourself to the idea that maybe this time he wouldn’t, your phone would ring, and there he’d be, like nothing had ever happened.

He’d apologize, sometimes, for being gone so long, but there was always an underlying assumption that you understood. And you did. You knew his job was important, that the work he did saved lives, and that it wasn’t something he could just walk away from whenever he felt like it. But understanding didn’t make it easier. It didn’t stop the ache in your chest when you reached out for him in the night and found only an empty space.

And yet, every time he called, you’d go running back to him. The moment you heard his voice on the other end of the line, all the frustration, the anger, the loneliness—it would all melt away. You’d drop everything to be with him, to spend whatever time he had to give, whether it was a few hours or a few days. You’d soak up every minute, storing up the memories to get you through the next time he disappeared.

As you hit send, Jacqueline, your closest friend, caught sight of your secretive behavior. She narrowed her eyes, her expression turning into a knowing look. Before you could react, she reached over and snatched the phone from your hand, holding it up like she’d just caught you doing something scandalous.

Your friends didn’t understand. They saw the toll it took on you, the way you’d light up when he was around, only to fall into a funk when he vanished again. They’d tell you that you deserved better, that you shouldn’t put up with someone who treated you like an afterthought. But they didn’t know Spencer the way you did. They didn’t see the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when you were together. They didn’t know how it felt to be loved by him, even if that love came in pieces, scattered across time.

“Don’t tell me you’re texting Spencer again,” she said, exasperation evident in her tone. “You know you deserve better than someone who dumps and ignores you for weeks at a time.”

There was more to Jacqueline’s irritation than just concern for you; it was almost like she had a personal vendetta against Spencer. You’d noticed it before, the way her mood would shift whenever his name was mentioned, her face tightening, her tone hardening. It wasn’t just that she thought you deserved better—she genuinely seemed to dislike him, almost as if she had a grudge against him.

At first, you thought it was just protectiveness, that Jacqueline was being the fiercely loyal friend she’d always been. But as time went on, it became clear that her feelings towards Spencer went beyond that. She’d make snide comments whenever you talked about him, questioning his intentions, his commitment, even his character. She’d remind you of all the times he’d disappeared without a word, leaving you to wonder where he was and if he was even thinking about you. And each time he reappeared, she’d roll her eyes, muttering under her breath about how predictable it all was.

The other girls at the table exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement, while others tried to focus on their drinks, not wanting to get involved in the conversation.

To her, it was black and white: either he was there for you, or he wasn’t. And when he wasn’t, she took it as a personal slight, as though his absence was a reflection of how much—or how little—he cared about you. She’d been there to pick up the pieces too many times, listening to you vent your frustrations, wiping away your tears when the silence stretched too long. And in her mind, it was Spencer’s fault, plain and simple.

“You know, it’s not healthy,” she continued, her voice growing more insistent as she held your phone out of reach. “This back-and-forth, this constant waiting around for him to decide he wants to be a part of your life again. It’s toxic, and it’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who’s going to be there, consistently, without all this drama.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. You knew your friends meant well, but they didn’t understand the intricacies of your relationship with Spencer. His job was demanding—more demanding than most people could ever imagine. It wasn’t easy, but you knew what you signed up for when you fell in love with him.

You sighed, feeling the familiar tug of guilt and defensiveness. You knew she was coming from a place of love, but it was hard not to feel cornered, like she was forcing you to choose between your relationship with Spencer and your friendship with her. Gently, you reached out and took your phone back from Jacqueline, giving her a soft smile. “It’s no one, just my mom,” you lied smoothly, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

Jacqueline gave you a skeptical look but didn’t push further. “I just want what’s best for you, you know that, right?”

“I know,” you said, nodding. “And I appreciate it, really. But it’s nothing to worry about.”

The conversation slowly shifted away from Spencer, back to lighter topics, but your mind remained on him. You glanced down at your phone under the table, seeing the little dots on the screen that indicated Spencer was typing a response. Your heart fluttered, a mix of excitement and worry.

It wasn’t easy defending your relationship to people who didn’t fully understand, but you knew the truth. Spencer cared deeply about you, and despite the long absences and the sometimes agonizing silences, you wouldn’t trade what you had with him for anything.

As your friends continued to talk around you, you discreetly checked the message that had just come through from Spencer. His words were brief, but they carried a warmth that only you could feel:

Miss you more than you know. Can't wait to see you. Talk soon.

You smiled softly at the screen, feeling a surge of affection for the man who might not always be there, but who was always worth waiting for.

You stood outside Spencer’s apartment, the cool night air nipping at your skin as you debated whether to knock. This was a bad idea—no, a terrible idea. You knew it, your friends knew it, and yet, here you were.

When Spencer had texted you earlier that evening, a simple "Hey, you up?" flashed across your screen. You had stared at it, your thumb hovering over the screen as your mind raced. The rational part of you screamed to ignore it, to turn off your phone, and pretend you never saw it. You’d promised yourself that you wouldn’t keep doing this, that you wouldn’t let him pull you back in with a few words and the hope of something more.

And so, you did ignore it—for about ten minutes. You put your phone down, focused on the Netflix show you’d been watching, and tried to convince yourself that you were perfectly fine without answering him. You even grabbed a bag of chips, convincing yourself that you were more interested in a snack than the man on the other side of the screen.

But the distraction didn’t last long. You kept glancing at your phone, wondering if he was still waiting for a reply, if he’d sent another message, maybe something more enticing, something that would justify your breaking the silence. After another fifteen minutes of staring at the screen and tossing back and forth on the couch, you caved. You told yourself you were just going to see what else he’d said, but the moment you opened his message, the pull became too strong to resist.

Your resolve crumbled as you told yourself that it wouldn’t hurt to put on something a little nicer than your old pajama pants. After all, it wasn’t like you were planning to actually go to his place. But then you found yourself in front of your mirror, touching up your makeup, fixing your hair, and picking out an outfit that you knew Spencer liked. You told yourself that you were just making yourself feel better, that it was for you, not for him.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and you were out the door, keys in hand, your heart beating faster with each step you took. Your friends are right. You deserve more than a booty call and breakfast. You kept telling yourself that you were just going for a drive, that you weren’t really going to his apartment, that you could turn around at any moment and go back home.

But you didn’t. You drove to his place, parked outside, and now, here you were, standing in front of his door, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you hesitated. You knew this was a mistake, that you should just turn around and go home, but the pull was too strong, the need to see him, to feel his arms around you, was overpowering.

Your hand hovered in the air, ready to knock, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The rational part of you was still screaming, still telling you to walk away, but the rest of you, the part that had been yearning for him, that had missed him despite everything, was winning.

You didn’t hesitate any longer. The door opened before you even finished the second knock, and there he was, standing in the doorway, looking as conflicted as you felt.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft and hesitant.

“Hey,” you replied, stepping inside before you could change your mind. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing your fate for the night.

One thing led to another, and soon enough, you were both tangled up in his sheets, the tension that had been simmering for weeks finally breaking. The world outside his apartment faded into oblivion, replaced by the heat of his touch, the way his lips moved against yours, and the feel of his skin pressed to yours. It was everything you wanted and nothing you should have.

It started slowly, the kiss deepening as the months of unspoken words and unmet desires bubbled to the surface. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you all over again. It was desperate, passionate, and tinged with the familiar ache of knowing this might be temporary, that once again, you’d be left waiting for a text, a call, something to let you know he was still there.

Spencer’s fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped against his mouth, the sound swallowed by his lips as he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. The connection between you was undeniable, a magnetism that neither of you could resist, no matter how hard you tried. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side before his lips were back on yours, more urgent this time. His hands followed, sliding up your back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they settled on your waist, holding you tight against him.

Your own hands weren’t idle, tugging at his clothes, needing to feel his skin against yours. It was all-consuming, the need to be close to him, to feel the solid weight of his body, to know that he was real, that this was real, even if only for a fleeting moment. The rational part of your mind, the one that knew this wasn’t a solution to your problems, was drowned out by the sheer intensity of the moment.

Clothes were discarded in a frenzy, hitting the floor with soft thuds that went unnoticed as you both lost yourselves in each other. The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, soft moans, and whispered names as you gave in to the pull that had brought you here in the first place. It was messy, desperate, and exactly what you both needed. When he finally laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours, you could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His fingers brushed your hair out of your face, and he paused, just for a second, to take in the sight of you, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths.

“You’re beautiful,” Spencer murmured, his voice rough with emotion. There was something raw in the way he said it, like he was baring a part of himself that he usually kept hidden.

“Spence,” you breathed, your hands reaching up to cup his face, pulling him down for another kiss. It was softer this time, more deliberate, as if you were both trying to savor the moment, to make it last.

But the intensity returned quickly, the kiss deepening as he settled between your legs, his hands finding yours and lacing your fingers together. He moved slowly at first, as if savoring every second, every movement, every sound that escaped your lips. His name fell from your mouth in a breathy moan, and it seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as the need to be closer, to feel more, overwhelmed you both.

It was everything you’d been missing, everything you’d been craving, and more. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other, lost in the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every movement was a reminder of why you kept coming back, why you couldn’t let him go, even when you knew it wasn’t good for you.

Time lost meaning as you moved together, your bodies instinctively finding a rhythm that felt both familiar and new. It was intoxicating, the way you moved in sync, every shift and sigh building a connection that words could never fully capture. You held onto him like he was your lifeline, the one thing that made everything else disappear, even if just for a little while.

But as you lay there afterward, your head resting on Spencer’s chest, the reality of what you’d just done started to sink in. You were too aware of the fact that this was a cycle—one that you’d been through too many times before. The rush, the euphoria, the aftermath of self-doubt. It was a pattern you knew all too well, but one you couldn’t seem to break.

Before you could start spiraling, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. You reached for it, your heart dropping when you saw Jacqueline’s name on the screen. You knew she had probably felt something was off—she always did. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as you debated whether or not to answer.

Spencer must have sensed your tension, because he opened his eyes and glanced down at the phone in your hand. He saw the name on the screen and a small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Jacqueline?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.

“Hey,” you answered, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Where are you?” Jacqueline’s voice was sharp, filled with concern. “I had this weird feeling, like a disturbance or something.” She tried to cover it up with a laugh but it came out strained.

You swallowed, glancing over at Spencer, who was watching you with a knowing smirk. “I’m in bed,” you replied, technically not a lie.

Jacqueline sighed, relief flooding her voice. “Thank God. I was worried you were doing something… reckless. I just didn’t want you to regret anything.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” you assured her, feeling Spencer’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. “Thanks for checking in, though.”

“Alright. Just be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you promised before hanging up.

Spencer chuckled softly beside you. “She felt a disturbance, huh? Guess I have that effect.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “They’re not exactly your biggest fans,” you admitted, turning on your side to face him.

Spencer’s smile faltered slightly, a shadow of understanding passing over his features. “I know,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to where your hand rested against his chest.

You sighed, remembering the first time the two of you had run into her. It was a chance encounter while you and Spencer were out for coffee after a night together, a rare moment when he was actually around. You’d felt a pang of guilt when you saw her, knowing you’d been caught red-handed. The disappointment on her face had been clear as day.

When Spencer had tried to introduce himself, extending a polite hand, Jacqueline had barely acknowledged him. She’d cut him off mid-sentence, uninterested in his official introduction. You could see the judgment in her eyes, the way she looked at him as though he was the very reason for every tear you’d shed. And in some ways, she wasn’t wrong.

That run-in had come just two weeks after you’d been sobbing on her couch, a tub of popcorn between you, as you poured out your heart about how he’d disappeared on you—again. She’d listened, rubbing your back, nodding sympathetically, but you could tell she was getting frustrated. She was tired of seeing you hurt, tired of seeing you pick up the pieces every time he let you down.

The second time Jacqueline had come face-to-face with Spencer had been even worse. She’d arrived unannounced at your apartment, letting herself in with the spare key you’d given her for emergencies. She found you on the couch, curled up with Spencer, your lips swollen from kissing, your hair tousled in a way that made it clear what you’d been up to.

Jacqueline’s face had turned an alarming shade of red as she realized what she was seeing. She didn’t hold back, her voice sharp and cutting as she reprimanded you right there in front of him. She begged you to have more self-respect, to stop letting yourself be hurt by someone who couldn’t even bother to answer your calls half the time. Spencer had sat there, silent, his expression unreadable, as she delivered her scathing lecture. When she’d stormed out, slamming the door behind her, the room had felt impossibly quiet.

“She doesn’t hate you,” you said, though even you knew it sounded hollow.

Spencer nodded, but the weight of Jacqueline’s disapproval still hung between you. “She cares about you,” he said finally, his voice steady. He nodded, the smirk still playing on his lips. “And yet, here you are.”

You sighed, knowing full well that he was right. This wasn’t the first time you’d ended up here, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. It was messy, complicated, and against all the advice your friends had given you. But at that moment, as you lay there with him, the warmth of his presence grounding you, none of that seemed to matter.

“Fuck it,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. “It’s fine.”

And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was a disaster waiting to happen, but for tonight, for right now, it was enough. Spencer pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of him, ignoring the voice in your head that was already screaming about tomorrow.