#and is that really how jarring his name is

[norikuna]

pick your love story °🍵⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ jujutsu kaisen edition (sfw)

gojo satoru ☆ childhood friends to lovers

loves to tease you, and he'll always poke your cheek, ruffle your hair, or steal your food just to get a reaction. if you're shy or quiet, he lives to make you flustered. buys the most ridiculous gifts, including matching sunglasses and designer items that cost more than your rent. acts like your personal heater, always draping himself over you, wrapping his long arms around your shoulders, or sneaking his hands under your sweater to press them against your skin. if someone flirts with you? well, he's throwing him arm around you so dramatically, calling you his 'beloved' in the most obnoxious way possible. if the person doesn't back off, his carefree tone disappears and he gives them a chilling smile. loves late night drives and cafe dates, he's so the type to blast music in the car and sing off-key on purpose, always laughs when you tell him to zip it. his love language is definitely physical touch and words of affirmation, and he needs to be touching you at all times, and he constantly reminds you how much he loves you in different playful and heartfelt ways <3 he's even softer when he's sleepy, nuzzling into your neck and shit, voice always dropping to a quiet murmur as he spills whatever's on his mind.

geto suguru ☆ best friends to lovers

pretty chill, protective and a faux deep thinker type of guy. gentle and attentive, always knowing what you need before you even ask. if had a rough day, he's gonna run you a bath and try to get your favourite drink. tries to sit still and listen patiently while you rant. lowkey a bit overzealous when it comes to jealousy, but never petty. he doesn't get outwardly possessive. but if someone flirts with you, he'll wrap an arm around your waist and give the person a pretty sharp look, enough that they'll back off and shit. always takes pictures of you, and he has an entire album of random shots of you reading, laughing or even just existing bc he really does think you look beautiful in every moment. loves bookstore and vinyl shop dates, and he enjoys those sweet peaceful moments with you (flipping through books, aka arguing about different genres). he's super big on quality time + acts of service, and if he sees you struggling with anything, he'll try to take care of it before you even have to ask. loves running his fingers through your hair, and he claims it calms him, and sometimes he just gets so lost in thought while doing it, that you have to snap him out of it. he's the type to whisper sweet things in your ear absentmindedly, like 'you have no idea how much i love you' when he thinks you're not paying attention. goes all red and dismissive when he realises you actually did hear that :D and he says he's not in gossip and drama but no one talks shit like he does, lets be real

ryomen sukuna ☆ prob sum weird enemies to lover shit

claims he doesn't date, but somehow ends up trying to figure out your favourite flower. calls you stupid shit like 'brat' or 'pet' more than your actual name, but if someone disrespects you, he tears them apart without hesitation. gets jealous easily, but he won't admit it, and if someone looks at you wrong, he'll grab your chin and kiss you (not that you mind <3) his love language is physical touch and dominance, expect him to always keep a hand on your waist, neck or chin because as much as he pretends otherwise, he loves feeling your skin against his. gaslights you over silly things for fun ('i literally told you that' 'no you didn't' 'oh, so you're forgetful now). also whispers absolute nonsense in your ear just from time to time, 'did you know that octopuses have three hearts? bet you didn't, but now you do. you're welcome'). will open a jar way too aggressively to try and show off his strength but breaks it, and now you're left with no pickles and a sulking sukuna with pickle juice on his hand. carries you like a sack of potatoes on his shoulders if you piss him off. pretends he doesn't gaf, but always shares his food with you and tries to order what you like.

toji fushiguro ☆ reluctant friends to lovers

grumpy but soft for you typa boyfriend who doesn't believe in using full words in texts. only texts in 'ya' or 'nah' and he accidentally replied 'k' to you saying 'i love you' and he called you immediately afterwards because he knows he messed up. loves pda but in the most lazy way possible, and will always drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and refuse to move. always steals bites of your food (half the meal) but will act offended if you do the same. once won you a stuffed animal at a carnival and acted like it was no big deal, but he actually used up all his carnival tickets trying to win you the biggest prize. spoils you in a reckless way, and he'll hand you a wad of cash and refuses to tell you how he got the money. he just tells you to go buy something nice. love language is acts of service and physical touch because he claims he's not amazing with words, but his hands always find their way back home to you. loves lazy mornings, and grumbles when you try to get out of bed, pulling you back in with an arm around your waist.

nanami kento ☆ love at first sight

exhausted but devoted you get me, and he claims that you energise him and light up his life. lectures you when you only sleep for three hours a night. replies to the tiktoks you send with corporate replies 'that was humorous. thank you for sharing. i love you.' he thinks you're absolutely the most beautiful person on the planet, and always lets you know. pretty gentle, mature and devoted. shows his love in sweet, meaningful ways. always puts your comfort first, and he tries to take things off your plate without asking. loves cooking for you, and believes cooking is its own love language. hates unnecessary, brash pda but loves quiet intimacy. holds your hand, brushes your hair against your ear. lingering kisses on your temple. reads to you at night, and he'll sit beside you if you have trouble drifting off. his love language is absolutely acts of service and quality time, and he doesn't just say he loves you, he'll prove it in every little action of his. loves taking you out to scenic parks and hikes, and just stares after you with so much love as he tries to adjust the focus of his camera lenses to try and capture you as well as he can.

choso kamo ☆ strangers to lovers

kinda awkward but genuinely, really quiet sweet. overthinks everything, and at the start of your relationship, he even started overthinking how you said 'goodnight!' and wondered if you were mad at him, because there was no heart or emoji. would die before making the first move idk, like you're going to have kiss him first or else, otherwise i fear he's going to have a stroke. holds grudges as long as he can, and will bring up little shit (like you stealing his lunch) six months later 'remember that time you betrayed me?'. but he can only really give you the silent treatment for two whole minutes when you tease him, and then immediately apologises because he feels bad. a lot of friends tease the two of you because they think choso is too quiet or a pushover but the truth is that he's actually pretty snarky, clever and observant. very determined and always sticks to his morals, even at times when you disagree with him, he's able to put his foot down. love language is quality time and gift giving, because he's the type to remember everything you like and surprise him with it. loves watching movies with you, and pretends not to care for 90s chick flicks, but he's digging them deep down. loves holding your hand, and even in public, he'll reach for you quietly.

higuruma hiromi☆ coworkers to lovers

overworked but loves you so bad. he sometimes reminds you of a tired, single dad but he's truly joyous to date. if you call him baby in public, he immediately malfunctions and blushes. you once kissed him in a courtroom (not even when court was ongoing!) on the tip of his gorgeous nose, and he almost choked. will 100% object to random things just to irritate you, with topics like takeout for dinner, 'objection. we had sushi two days ago.' takes everything pretty seriously, until you do something cute. then he just sits there, hiding his smile behind his hand like an adorable anime protagonist. tries to be strict or protective, but you just make him super soft. secretly likes pda but pretends that he doesn't. grips your hand so tight like he fears you might disappear. loves when you rest in his lap or against his chest as he reads over cases and paperwork. you told him that he'd look hot with glasses, and you caught him browsing through lens frames.

naoya zenin ☆ arranged marriage (kinda ooc naoya btw, bear with me)

sort of a menace who should have been left on read a long time ago, but this wasn't your first choice. somehow, he folds for you almost immediately but you think he'd rather dig his own grave and neatly fold his hands over his chest as he buries himself at his own funeral before he admits that he likes you. calls you annoying but will drop everything if you text him that you need help. always saying dumb shit to you, or trying to make fun of you, but if someone else does? they're gone, like he's going to stalk them, find where they work, and get them fired from their job. texts you the stupidest things like 'if i was ugly, would you still love me?' 'i just saw an ugly baby. damn' 'what would do if i got arrested? be honest.' saw someone flirting with you once at like a fancy event, and rolled his eyes, pretending that he didn't give a flying fuck. ended up at the bathroom mirror, gripping the sink and trying not to throw up. if you ignore his texts, he's gonna send vaguely ominous messages, like 'answer me' followed by 'this is how it ends?' 'i'm leaving btw, i'm going to pack up and leave you forever and go live on my own in the wild.' you check his location and he's still at home. naoya thinks he's the prize in the relationship, he's not. definitely a pda menace, and he loves just kissing you in public.

hajime kashimo ☆ enemies to lovers but in that 'we met when we were fighting' way

your relationship is just him being reckless with no survival instinct, and you trying to keep your boyfriend alive. aka trying to stop him from licking the power outlet. will randomly challenge you to fights for no reason, never mind the fact that he'll feel bad and back out at the last minute. has no concept of personal space, and will stand nose to nose with you just to make you uncomfortable. if you back away, he's gonna follow you and ask where you're going. if someone flirts with you, he's not even going to do too much, just laugh in their face and ask the offender if they really thought they had a chance. kashimo has no concept of an inside voice at all, so god forbid you try to take him somewhere quiet. energy level always at 200% and it's a mission to even take him someplace like a grocery store. if you said 'i love you' first, it might have been the only time that someone else has bested him in something. hajime physically can't process emotions and goes green and pale (he loves you so much btw) and he looks vaguely ill at your confession. stares for five minutes before throwing himself at you. definitely a words of affirmation type of guy, instead of actions, because sometimes, he's all bark and no bite.

noritoshi kamo ☆ sweet, rom-com crush

he's actually a bit traditional, but very sweet. unfortunately, he's also so formal that it hurts sometimes. but it's fun when he asks you things like 'would you like to accompany me for an evening meal?' or 'shall we go for a stroll?' if you hold his hand, for the first few months, he sweats profusely but acts as though he's totally cool (narrator: he was not cool). lowkey believes that he doesn't deserve you and he absolutely treats you, the love of his life, like royalty. super observant and determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so you're never really left wanting for anything. if someone flirts with you, he doesn't really get jealous, but rather gets philosophical. 'it is natural for others to admire beauty such as yours. however, they must know it's not theirs to claim.' a key forefront runner of the sassy men apocalypse, even though you wouldn't be able to tell at the start. super quick-witted, but he's the type to keep his thoughts to himself, but luckily, he gets more comfortable sharing his jokes with you as times go on. blushes super easily, and he hates it because he thinks it ruins his aloof/mysterious guy persona.

[stellamarielu]

friendly competition

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: on a business trip with declan, the two of you are forced to share a room which can only lead to rising tensions and unspoken realizations.

content: nsfw, 18+, enemies to lovers-ish, one bed trope lets gooo, angst, arguing, hate sex, infidelity [but does it really count if his wife left him??], oral m & f receiving, cock warming for a hot second, dirty talk, kinda rough, unprotected sex [oops], finishing inside [oops again]

author’s note: she’s hereee! i had so much fun writing this one so thank you to whoever suggested hate sex with declan lol i hope it lives up to your expectations

—

Declan didn’t work with you very often. He had exchanged plenty of pleasantries and seen you around the office enough to know he didn’t care to talk to you more than the occasional “Hello” or “How are you today?” He knew it was rude to be so judgmental and short with you, but he was only in the building for one thing and it wasn’t to make friends. He was there to produce hard hitting journalism in the form of an unoriginal talk show to please the one and only Tony fucking Baddingham.

His bad attitude about work wasn’t helped by the fact that his home life had become an absolute shit-show since moving to Rutshire. Between his failing marriage and his daughter’s constant frustration with him for meddling in her dating life, he found himself desperate to stay out of his own home. He worked late most nights and poured himself empty into the never-ending glass of Corinium television.

So when Tony asked him to go on an overnight trip to London for a work prospect, Declan agreed without so much as a second thought. His boss then decided to add that you of all people would be joining him, and it had Declan’s head spinning with regret.

You were everyone’s favorite producer and subsequently the one person Declan couldn’t stand sitting next to in meetings. Simply put– you annoyed him. The way you walked, the way you talked; Declan was constantly irritated by your happy go lucky personality. You were always so cheery and optimistic, and it got under his skin. It was so unrealistic for someone to be that happy all the time. It was all fake, he knew it had to be; the constant smiles, the sing-song tone of your voice, the way you had everyone wrapped around your finger with your constant jokes and can-do attitude. Surely it was all a ruse to become a network favorite so you could climb your way to the top. Whatever the reason was for your encouraging outlook on life, Declan told himself he could suck it up for a day and be cordial on this little business trip with you. 

He had done a good enough job once you arrived in London. The two of you were so busy with business matters that you didn’t interact much.

You were your usual polite and perky self, yet he found himself much less annoyed with you in this environment. Maybe it was because you weren’t around the others from the office, or perhaps he had psyched himself out the night before, losing sleep over the idea of being stuck with you for 24 hours, when the reality of it was much less jarring. 

The point was Declan was beginning to find your presence much less unbearable than usual.

However, that all came crumbling down once you checked into your hotel for the night. He was standing at the front desk fuming with annoyance while you were just standing next to him all pleasant and nonconfrontational. 

“Like I said before, neither of us booked the room. It’s through our company, but I can assure you there should be two separate rooms under the name.” 

Declan’s voice was loud and stern; not quite a yell, but if this woman at the front desk tried to convince him he didn’t know what he was talking about one more time, it would be. 

There had been some sort of mistake with the hotel booking. When you and Declan checked in you were given the keys for one room with a single bed. Declan had argued many times that you should have two rooms, but the woman across from him had no issue disputing his claims. She informed Declan that there was only one room on the reservation and the hotel was currently at capacity so there were no extra rooms available to even attempt solving the problem at hand. 

While Declan was growing more livid by the second, you were nothing but calm and cooperative– a complete pushover. 

“It’s really okay! We’ll figure something out, no worries.” 

Your voice was unphased and you were smiling apologetically at the staff that was now gathering at the front desk. You took the room key and shuffled Declan off toward the elevators. 

He was looking at you with the most aggravated expression imaginable. He wasn’t even close to being done debating with the hotel staff, he was determined to right their wrong. He always got what he wanted.

Yet here you were pulling him away from the conflict with an annoyingly hopeful tone in your voice, regardless of the shitty situation. Why the fuck were you being so nice.

“Declan, there’s nothing they can do. We’ll just have to figure it out with one room.” You were doing your best to level with the angry Irishman as he shot you another look of irritation. 

Pressing the button on the wall in front of you, you silently hoped that an elevator would come available so you could just get to your room as fast as possible. You were certain Declan was going to continue fighting you on this, so getting away from the lobby was your current priority. 

“That’s absurd, I’ll just take a train back home this is ridiculous.” 

“Seriously? That’s how big of an issue sharing a room is?” you were laughing at the silliness of the situation.

“We have a meeting in the morning with that guy from BBC. Are you planning to hop on another train to get back here by 8am?”

He just stared at you as if answering a silent, “if that’s what it takes.”

“Fine do whatever you want but I’m staying in room 553 and enjoying free breakfast in the morning.” Looking down at the key in your hand as you spoke, you recited the room number printed on it in a sleek black font.

With that, the elevator doors in front of you opened with a ‘ding’ and you were taking a step inside. Declan was deliberating for a split second before he followed behind you, the doors closing and sealing his fate. 

“I’ll even sleep on the floor if that makes you feel better.” You were lightly laughing but you meant it. 

You didn’t want Declan to be upset or uncomfortable. It was just one night; you could deal with whatever repercussions found you tomorrow if it meant he would be in a good mood and not yelling at hotel employees. 

After your offer to sleep on the floor echoed in the small space, his head snapped in your direction. His expression was a mixture of humor and impatience.

“You are absolutely not sleeping on the floor.” His voice was a low hum matching the deep whirring of the moving elevator. 

You looked ahead avoiding eye contact with Declan. The thought of sleeping next to him suddenly making your chest warm, and you couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or excitement. No– it couldn’t be excitement, you hated him. Well hate was a big word to describe the feeling you had toward Declan. It was more indifference with a hint of aggravation for the way he thought he was better than everyone else. He was always riding around the office on his high horse, so smug and reserved in his own little world detached from the rest of you, unless he needed something or wanted to overstep.

It was always about what Declan wanted and he never cared to interact with anyone who didn’t serve a purpose for whatever project he was working on.

He was nice, sure, but it was only ever surface level. He was all work and no play and, in this moment, the most stubborn man you had ever met. So why on earth did you have butterflies in your stomach at the thought of sharing a bed with him.

Maybe it was his thick accent, the one you noticed the first time he said hello to you months back. Or possibly, it was the way his hair was all messy from running his frustrated hands through it over and over again in the hotel lobby. No, it was probably because you hadn’t had sex in god knows how long, and the idea of sleeping next to a perfectly handsome man had you just a little worked up.

But this wasn’t just any man, it was your coworker. It was Declan O’Hara who was nothing but professional and arrogant. Not to mention he was married, so there was no way in hell anything would happen between the two of you, not that you wanted it to.

The elevator doors opened once again and the two of you were stepping off onto the fifth floor. This time you were following his lead. Of course he wanted to be the one in charge– shocking. 

“I’ll call down and see if there’s someone else, I can talk to.” Declan was saying from ahead of you leading the charge down the long hallway. 

“Declan it’s really okay, I don’t think it’ll kill us to be in the same room for a night.” You were laughing off his annoyance, but you’d be lying if you said his persistence wasn’t beginning to drive you bat-shit crazy. 

With that you were at the door to your room, Declan fidgeting with the key only to swing the door open and pace inside. You were hardly even through the entryway by the time he was calling down to the front desk. 

After two separate conversations that both ended in the same response and nearly an hour of huffing and puffing, Declan gave up.

You were laying on the fully made bed just listening to him rant when he finally came to terms with the reality of your situation. 

“I need a drink.” Was the last thing he grumbled out before trapsing out of the room and to the bar downstairs. 

Such a diva, you thought as you stared at the ceiling and listened to the door slam shut. But you also thought about how hot he looked when he was angrily pacing around the room. The way his eyebrows knit together in frustration and how his voice dropped an octave in annoyance. What the fuck was wrong with you? It was getting late, maybe you were just tired and in the beginning stages of a sleep deprived delusion. You gave in to your exhaustion, changing into comfortable clothes and crawling into the only bed in your shared hotel room.

Meanwhile, Declan was down in the lobby nursing a glass of bourbon.

If he were being honest with himself he needed a distraction. 

He had been so angry about the room situation earlier that he hadn’t even let himself think about the fact that he was going to sleep next to you. But then he was walking the floors of the shared room, fuming about the whole situation and you were just sprawled out on the queen size mattress with your eyes on him, listening. You were carefully paying attention as he spewed curses and complained about the woman at the front desk for the hundredth time in an hour. You didn’t even look annoyed. You were simply listening. It was unsettling and even a bit thoughtful the way you just laid there letting his angry words fill your ears without a single response or objection. Relaxed on your back with your head turned to face him as he paced the room, he couldn’t help the subtle drift of his eyes on your body. Your shirt had come untucked and was bunched at your waist exposing your midriff and Declan was staring, his eyes wandered to the skin of your stomach as he talked. It looked so soft- you looked so soft, all spread out on the bed like that. He quickly realized his gaze was raking over your body and he snapped back to reality, deciding to get a drink to clear his mind and prepare him for the night ahead. 

Now he was taking a small sip from the same glass of bourbon that he’d been working on since he sat down at the bar. Each sip of his drink only making him think more about you on that damn bed. The bed he would inevitably be laying in, right next to you. Maybe he should sleep on the floor.

He gave up hope that the alcohol would help with the problem at hand and downed the rest of his drink in one swig, standing from his chair and trudging toward the elevators. 

Once he was back inside your hotel room, Declan noticed your body underneath the covers of the bed, sound asleep by the looks of it. He searched through his things to find a change of clothes before walking to the bathroom, silently thankful that you left the lamp on in the corner of the room to illuminate his steps. Of course you would make sure to leave a light on for him- Jesus, did you always have to be so considerate? 

On his way back from changing clothes, he tried not to let himself think about how weird it was– seconds away from lying next to your sleeping body. Someone he barely knew and didn’t even like. 

“I figured you might try to spend the night in the lobby”

Your quiet voice was finding him as he made himself comfortable on his side of the bed, as far away from you as possible. He was surprised to hear you were awake, it somehow made everything feel even more awkward than before.

“Thought about it but I don’t know if I’d be able to get comfortable on the shitty barstools they’ve got down there.” His voice was stoic, barely a hint of humor in it despite the sarcasm of his words. 

“It wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun you know. To smile or tell a joke every once and a while?” 

You were talking at the wall. Your bodies were facing away from each other, at least two feet of empty space between your backs. 

“That was a joke.”

“Jesus you’re so literal.”

You sounded annoyed. Declan had never heard such a cruel tone in your voice before. It was a far cry from your usual kind attitude.

“Sorry we can’t all be little rays of sunshine.” He was mumbling into his pillow, unsure if you could even hear him.

“I’d rather be a ray of sunshine than a grumpy, arrogant asshole.”

Declan was stunned into silence. 

“Sorry that was mean.” You were too polite to insult him without an immediate apology.

“Again with the apologies. Here I was thinkin’ you’d finally grown a backbone.” 

You sat straight up at his words, bringing the comforter with you causing Declan to roll over at the loss of warmth.

“What the fuck is your problem?” That was the second curse word to leave your mouth that day, must be a new personal record, Declan thought.

“My problem? My problem is havin’ to spend my entire day with someone so invested in what other’s think of her that she can’t even have a personality of her own.”

It sounded so harsh as it rolled off Declan’s tongue, but the day was catching up to him and he was beyond pissed, he had to take it out on someone, and your presence was all too convenient.  

“Yeah and my idea of fun is listening to you bitch about not getting your way all day.” 

Third curse word, you must be going for an Olympic medal.  

“I mean really Declan, the sooner you realize the world doesn’t revolve around you the happier you’ll be.” You were laying back down, your head meeting the pillow with a muffled thud as you looked up at the ceiling. 

“I’ve never met someone with such a gigantic stick up their ass.” 

Your words were left floating in the air between you. You were beginning to feel bad for being so rude, but you had finally had enough of his negative attitude, and you didn’t feel like playing nice anymore. The silence ringing in the room was deafening and you feared the two of you might not speak another word to each other for the remainder of the trip.

And then Declan was chuckling. A real, genuine sound of amusement.

“God you’re right, I’m a miserable fuckin’ bastard aren’t I?” 

He was staring at the ceiling alongside you mumbling something about the stick up his ass under his breath as he laughed.

He seemed tickled by your insult, but you couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t overheard all the gossip about his wife supposedly leaving him for another man. Not to mention how Tony Baddingham was always using Declan to fulfil his own personal vendettas. It was all just sad. No wonder he seemed so angry all the time. The poor guy needed a break, and instead you were just adding to his despair. 

After his soft laughter died down and the room was once again filled with silence you decided to speak up; putting your bright attitude that Declan despised so much to good use.

“Not all the time.” You were correcting his previous statement. The one about being a miserable bastard.  

You weren’t lying. There were times you found Declan charming– endearing even. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t found yourself glancing over at him in meetings to see the way he always listened so intently to Daysee when no one else did. Or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at one of Seb’s many dumb jokes. Come to think of it, maybe he wasn’t as self-absorbed as you had painted him out to be. 

“No?”

He was turning his head in your direction. His dark curls contrasted with the cotton pillowcase they rested on. You were staring into his eyes; they were surprisingly kind. It suddenly felt so intimate, lying in bed next to him. 

“Sometimes you get this goofy little smile on your face.”

As if on cue he unknowingly gave you the exact grin you were thinking of. You smiled back at him, the two of you facing each other in the dark. The light of the moon shining through the sheer window curtains was just bright enough for you to appreciate the gentle curve of his lips. 

“I can be mean you know.”

After allowing yourself to see the good in Declan, you wanted him to know he was just as wrong in his assumptions of you. Afterall, you did just curse at him three times. 

“Oh yeah?”

He was challenging you with a raise of his eyebrow. 

“Prove it.” He was still smiling at you from his side of the bed, his once silly grin now an enticing smirk. 

“Tell me what else you hate about me.”

His voice was like velvet in your ears, wrapping around your mind and tying your inhibitions back with a neat little bow.  

“You think you’re better than everyone else.” Your delivery was confident as you hit him with another insult.

“Is that right?”

He was slowly trailing his hand up the empty space between you, bringing it to rest gently on your face before tracing your jaw with his fingertips.

You were frozen under his touch, almost ashamed at how such a simple gesture had your heart racing. You were hungry for someone’s touch, anyone’s touch, and right now, Declan’s touch.  

“What else angel?” 

He was watching his own hand as his fingers drew lightly down the curve of your neck. The pet name fell so easily from his lips that you were convinced he’d thought about this before; about calling you sweet names with his hands on you.

“You always seem so unimpressed by everything.” You were listing off another of the many things that annoyed you about Declan, but you had to try your best to sound composed. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you falling apart under his touch. 

“Nothing is ever good enough for you.” 

“Nothin’? I don’t know about that.”  

He was closing the space between you replacing the touch of his hand on your neck with his lips and you couldn’t keep a quiet gasp from slipping from your mouth. 

“Your company seems to meet my needs quite nicely at the moment. I’d say more than enough.”  The movement of his lips against your neck as he spoke sent a pleasant chill down your spine. 

Declan had no idea what possessed him to cross such a prominent line, perhaps it was the proximity of your scarcely clothed body, or the way he could feel the heat radiating from you underneath the shared blanket, or maybe it was the way you opposed him; after all, he would never turn down a friendly competition. 

He thought about his current relationship with his wife who claimed he paid no attention to her, while in fact she was the one paying no attention to him– running off to sleep with his best friend and shamelessly flirting with other men in his own home. He had been so loyal for so long, catering to her every whim and it did absolutely nothing to mend their broken connection. She kept him at her disposal, on a leash like a dog, and he had grown tired of it. She didn’t love him, not really– not anymore.

So why was he trying so hard to make her stay when he knew she wanted to leave; trying so hard to please her when he knew it was an impossible task. He had held onto her for dear life with the crippling fear that no one else could possibly want to be with him, yet here you were preening under his touch and whining at the feeling of his lips on your neck. 

All he knew in this moment was that he needed to hear more of how much you wanted him. He kissed down your jaw, savoring the sweet little sounds you made as his lips connected with the warmth of your skin. 

“Keep goin’ love. What else?” 

He was encouraging your harsh comments as his hand slid to the waistband of your shorts, his words humming into your skin. 

“You curse like a sailor.” That one made Declan chuckle into the crook of your neck. Such a harmless insult, fitting for the innocent lips speaking it. 

He was moving his body to hover over yours, your back now flat against the mattress. 

“Oh, so you don’t like my foul mouth, that it?” 

His voice was laced with ulterior motives as he continued placing kisses on your neck trailing them lower one by one until he was sliding his entire body down your torso, dragging the comforter to the foot of the bed as he moved. He pushed up your shirt ever so slightly placing one gentle kiss just above the waistband of your shorts looking up at you with a devilish grin. 

“Maybe I can change that.” 

He didn’t even bother taking off your pants, he just pulled your shorts and underwear right to the side in one swift movement and placed a hot wet kiss straight to the bundle of nerves at your center.

Another shocked gasp was leaving your lips at the sight of Declan between your legs. He was kissing and sucking on your clit, doing things with his mouth that you hadn’t felt in a very long time– or perhaps ever. You were trying to keep the moans from spilling from your mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he was making you feel. 

Declan could feel it though, the way your body was tensing up and the sighs of relief that you were so desperately trying to hide. It only surged him on more, causing him to lap at your core in a way that he knew would have you losing your control.

The second you felt his tongue flat and heavy dragging through your folds, you were sending a hand down to thread through his curls. You were holding onto his hair in an attempt to gain some sort of stability, afraid that you might lose yourself in the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

You could feel your release spiraling closer all from the work of Declan’s tongue when it was all suddenly gone. The feeling of your core tightening, the warm sensation building in your chest, Declan’s mouth on your cunt; all of it gone in an instant. 

He was crawling back up to assume his position perched above you.

“How you feelin’ about my dirty mouth now angel?” His voice was so hushed and deep you thought you might drown in its bottomless allure. 

The familiar feeling of frustration for the man above you was clouding your mind as you sat up pushing him to his back. The sudden switch in positions gave you a control you’d always longed to have over Declan. 

“Like I said earlier,” 

You took this new opportunity of power to straddle his waist, running your hands over his chest. 

“Always so arrogant.” 

Your whisper held a sultry twist of innocence, and it had Declan stirring from underneath your body.

You decided to give Declan a taste of his own medicine and followed down his body with gentle kisses, mocking what his lips had done to you just moments ago. You were hooking your fingers in the waistband of his pants allowing him to lift his hips to assist you in undressing him. You were shoving them off and settling in between his legs, lowering your head to meet his erection and placing a sweet kiss to the tip of his length before taking him into your mouth.

The groan he let out at your actions was so guttural you couldn’t help but take him deeper into your throat. 

“Fuck- not as gentle as you let on, huh angel?”

He was practically growling as he caught a glimpse of you staring up at him. Seeing you like this was so out of character, the vulgarity of it had him throwing his head back on his pillow. 

You were absolutely ruining him with your mouth, his panting breath was like music to your ears. It was so satisfying having him like this. You were working deliberately with your tongue to coax more moans from the man before you, treating his pleasure like a challenge that you were determined to conquer. 

“Christ- that sweet little mouth of yours.” He was mumbling between moans and it had you humming onto his cock. 

You were ready to combust from the taste of dominance as you took your mouth off him, a small sigh escaping his lips.

“Thought you didn’t like how sweet my mouth was?” Your voice was taunting as you moved back to sit over his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. 

“Keep talking to me like that, and you might just convert me.”

He was eyeing you, the warm embrace of your cunt just one thrust away from his throbbing cock. 

In an instant you were easily sinking down onto him, already soaked from having his mouth on you. 

“Fuck darlin’.” His voice was a low snarl as he grabbed onto your hips pulling you down onto him until his cock was fully sheathed within you. 

You could feel his fingertips digging into your side. With your hands splayed out on his chest, you steadied yourself. Feeling the stretch of him as he filled you completely. You needed to move, needed the friction of him pushing into you, but his hands were holding onto you hard keeping you from rocking your hips against him.

“Feels good doesn’t it angel?” 

You were moaning out a muffled “mhmm” to his question but you were nearly shaking with anticipation as you waited for his grip to ease up so you could move. 

“You wanted this huh?” Another question was coming from his mouth.

“Didn’t complain about the one bed thing because you wanted to fuck me.”

You had no idea how he was carrying on a conversation all nonchalant like his dick wasn’t buried deep inside of you right now. 

“Probably been thinkin’ about it for a while now.” 

His voice was deep and on edge as he accused you of having dirty thoughts about him. Always so cocky, he couldn’t help but tease you in such a vulnerable position. 

“In your dreams O’Hara.” You fought back from on top of him, your voice only wavering slightly from the pleasure of your current state. 

He wasn’t expecting you to be such a smartass. He lifted you with the grip he had on your hips and pushed you back onto the bed, staying inside of you as he maneuvered your bodies. 

“What was that?” He was asking with an edge of annoyance in his voice. 

You couldn’t repeat yourself; couldn’t even think straight due to the sweet gratification of finally feeling him moving inside of you. Declan was thrusting into you at a slow pace, but he was driving deep with every movement.

“Cute that you thought I’d let you be in charge.” He was almost chuckling above you, but you could hear the words faltering at his own pleasure. 

“Now be the sweet little thing we both know you are and take it like a good girl.” His voice was breaking with grunts and groans as he pushed deeper into you with each thrust. 

You really didn’t care if his words were degrading, you would let him win this battle if it meant he’d keep fucking you like this. 

Your fingers were reaching up to intertwine in his hair, clutching and pulling at his dark locks and earning a deep moan from the man above you. His hips were snapping into you at a delicious pace and your hands were losing their grip in his hair only to slide down his back, leaving marks in their wake.

The sound of him mercilessly plunging into you was masked by the breathy noises falling from his lips. The sounds he was making were all the proof you needed to know he wanted this just as badly as you did. Both of you had been so desperate to be touched, to be appreciated, to finally feel some sort of release; the growing tension between you acted as a catalyst for your grand undoing. 

You were so wound-up, your release just within reach as Declan continued to hit a spot that had you whimpering out his name. 

“Fuck- so good.” His mumbles were nearly incoherent as he kept a quick pace against your body. 

“Gonna cum for me? I can feel ya sweetheart.” 

All of the endearing nicknames he was giving you were starting to add to the fuel of your pending relief. Maybe you had wanted this all along– maybe you longed to have Declan calling you sweet little names as he fucked his frustrations out on you. Everything about the current situation had your toes curling and your body tensing. 

“So tight baby.” His head was falling to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing as he mumbled sweet nothings into your skin. 

He kept going and you were whining out in pleasure as you let the pressure building within you disperse, your release crashing onto you. Declan hardly acknowledged your orgasm, he just continued thrusting into you even harder than before.

You were squeezing and clenching around him as he fucked you through your orgasm and the feeling of it had him losing his mind. 

“God, I can’t take it anymore.” He was groaning into your neck as he drove into you at an insane pace. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good around me like that angel.” 

The feeling of him sliding in and out of you had you biting your lip from pure overstimulation. His words were so breathless and drawn out; just mumbles coming from a man on the edge of ecstasy, but they were turning you on in a way you couldn’t even understand. So you dug your nails ever so slightly into his shoulder blades bringing his body closer to yours, your chests meeting and heaving against one another. 

“Gonna cum sweetheart.” He was panting out a warning of his release, but you didn’t let him pull away, instead you pushed him further into you, signaling your need to have him finish deep inside. 

That’s what did him in; you grabbing at him, begging him to cum inside of you with the pull of his body against yours. Fuck it was hot. He was coming undone in seconds. The rush of his orgasm causing the filthiest profanities and whimpers to tumble out of his mouth. He was driving deep into you with each twitch of his cock, filling you with his warmth. 

“didn’t realize you’d be so good in bed.” you were smirking underneath his body, now lazily collapsed on top of you.

“must’ve felt good getting all of your pent-up frustration out.” Patting him condescendingly on the back, your sarcastic words flowed out as a breathless whisper.

Wearing an entertained expression, Declan Shifted his weight just enough to glance at you with an eyebrow raised.

“And I’m sure you enjoyed getting to let loose for once.” Returning your sarcasm with a jab of his own, he replied.

“Probably good for you to be a little bad sometimes.”

He was copying your demeaning gesture and patting you gently on the head, convinced that he had won this round.

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[diamonddaze01]

beautiful fool

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc: 5.1k genre: angst angst angst angst angst | vaguely based on the great gatsby warnings: really really sad (i’m not sorry) a/n: the angst olympics have begun and this one goes out to serena @gotta-winwin 💕 enormous thanks to @haologram and @ylangelegy for betaing this monster for me i love u!!

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summary: Foolishly, Wonwoo let himself hope.

It’s cruel, Wonwoo thinks, how the sound of your laughter feels like both a blessing and a punishment.

The laughter now—it reminds him of the first time he heard it, ringing out like an unintentional symphony in this same café, on a day when the clouds hung heavy outside and the tables were quiet. You’d burst in with the kind of presence that demanded attention, the bell above the door jangling in your wake as you called out a cheerful, “What’s good here, huh? I need recommendations from the experts!”

You’d strode up to the counter, all wide eyes and crinkled smiles, resting your elbows on the worn wood like you belonged there. And Wonwoo—awkward, reserved Wonwoo—could only blink for a moment too long before fumbling for words.

“Um,” he had managed, his voice barely carrying over the soft jazz playing in the background. “The, uh, the matcha latte is… popular?”

“Popular?” you’d repeated, feigning horror as if he’d personally offended you. “That’s the best you’ve got? Come on, barista guy, sell me on it! Give me the rundown—what’s the vibe? Is it creamy, is it sweet? Am I about to ascend to a higher plane of existence?”

The words tumbled out of you like you couldn’t stop them, every syllable bubbling with life. He’d tried to respond, he really had, but his gaze kept catching on the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled. How your lips quirked in amusement even as you teased him. How, somehow, your laughter seemed to make the dull, gray afternoon outside feel brighter.

“It’s… creamy,” he’d said lamely, his face warming. “And… uh, it’s sweet, yeah.”

“Sold,” you’d said with a grin that made his chest ache.

When he handed you the drink, your fingers had brushed his for the briefest second. He remembered how you took a sip, sighed dramatically, and declared, “Barista guy, you were right—I might actually ascend. Thank you for this life-changing experience.”

You hadn’t stayed long that day, just enough to finish your drink and leave a tip in the jar, but Wonwoo had found himself replaying the scene over and over in his head that night. He remembered everything—the way you’d wrinkled your nose at the cold weather outside, the exact cadence of your laugh, the way you’d glanced over your shoulder as you left, flashing him one last smile.

He’d learned later, when you became a regular, that this was just you. Full of energy, full of light. But that first meeting stayed with him, a snapshot of you permanently etched into his memory.

The fifth time you came into the café, the heat outside was so stifling that not even the air conditioner could stop the sweat from rolling down Wonwoo’s temples. By then, he’d learned so much about you in the smallest of ways. Your usual drink had changed once—just once—during a brutal heatwave, and you’d swapped it out for an iced Americano, claiming it “felt like a personality betrayal.” He’d learned you liked your pastries warmed, but not too warm, and that you loved to read but always left your books with bent corners, something that made him wince and you laugh.

And he’d learned your name.

That was the first barrier you broke—offering your name with a playful smile as he handed you your drink. “You’ve been calling me ‘matcha latte’ in your head this whole time, haven’t you?” you teased.

He’d stumbled over his words, his ears turning red, and you’d laughed again, your name falling so naturally from your lips it stuck in his mind immediately.

The tenth time you came into the café, you weren’t alone. It was mid-afternoon, the sun cutting through the windows in golden slants, and you’d arrived with a small group of friends. You were louder than usual, laughing as one of them tripped over the step leading inside, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the space like a melody he didn’t know he was waiting to hear.

Wonwoo had been at the counter, trying not to look too eager as you approached with your friends in tow. You gestured to him with a grin so familiar now that it still caught him off guard. “Guys, this is Wonwoo—the guy who knows everything I like.”

The way you said it was so casual, so effortless, but it felt like a stone dropping into the still waters of his chest. He had to steady his hands against the register, swallowing against the sudden rush of warmth that bloomed under his collar.

Your friends turned to him, smiling, teasing, offering their own introductions, but Wonwoo’s attention was already elsewhere. His gaze flickered to you, watching as you pulled a menu from the holder, furrowing your brows as you skimmed it even though you already knew what you wanted.

One of your friends—a tall, confident woman with a sharp laugh—leaned on the counter, fixing him with a playful smirk. “So, Wonwoo,” she said, drawing out his name like it was something fragile. “What’s your secret? How’d you win her over?” She tilted her head toward you, and your other friends chuckled in agreement.

Wonwoo glanced at you, hoping for a lifeline, but you only laughed, waving a hand in dismissal. “He didn’t win me over,” you said, still focused on the menu. “He just knows my coffee order by heart. That’s all it takes to impress me, apparently.”

You said it so lightly, but something in the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for a fleeting second before turning back to the menu made his heart stutter.

“Still,” your friend pressed, undeterred. “Knowing what someone likes—that’s a skill. So, what’s my vibe, Wonwoo?”

He barely heard the question. His eyes stayed locked on you as you laughed at another friend’s joke, your smile softening as you leaned back in your chair. You looked so at ease, so at home in this tiny café, and for a brief, unguarded moment, something in Wonwoo let itself imagine.

Not the café, but a quiet kitchen. Not you at a table with friends, but you sitting across from him, your head tilted as you teased him about his plain food choices. He imagined mornings with you in your pajamas, evenings with you curled up on the couch, the easy rhythm of a life spent together.

It was absurd, of course. He barely knew you, beyond the drinks you liked and the way you always tucked your hair behind your ear when you laughed too hard. But the idea lingered, like the scent of your perfume, sweet and impossible to ignore.

Your friend was still talking, still trying to catch his attention, but Wonwoo only nodded politely, his gaze drifting back to you. You caught his eye and grinned, holding up the menu. “I’ll just have my usual, Wonwoo,” you said, your voice lilting with familiarity.

He nodded, retreating to the safety of the espresso machine, where he could steady his hands and pretend he wasn’t imagining a life that wasn’t his to dream of.

A year after you’d first stepped into the café, you weren’t just a regular; you were the regular. Everyone knew your name, your order, your quirks, but somehow, you’d made it a habit to linger at the counter and talk to him.

It had been a slower afternoon, a rare lull in the usual rush, and you were perched on one of the stools by the register (a part of Wonwoo wondered if you left your usual seat in the corner for him). You twirled your straw absentmindedly in your drink (“surprise me,” you had stated matter-of-factly as you dropped a tote overflowing with papers at your feet. Wonwoo made you a caramel brulee latte, just as sweet as you), a slight frown tugging at your lips as you stared at your laptop screen.

“Another paper?” Wonwoo asked, glancing over as he wiped down the counter.

“Dissertation,” you groaned, dragging the word out dramatically. “The Implications of Procedural Justice on Environmental Law Compliance. Doesn’t it sound riveting?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “It… sounds like a lot.”

“You can just say it’s boring,” you laughed, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “But it’s not, really. It’s actually pretty interesting once you get into it. You know, how people are more likely to follow laws when they feel like the process is fair? I’m focusing on corporate compliance in environmental policy.”

He nodded, genuinely intrigued. “That actually sounds… important.”

You paused, blinking up at him, and then smiled. “See, this is why I like talking to you. You don’t just nod and tune me out—you actually listen.”

Wonwoo felt his chest tighten at your words, his fingers gripping the edge of the cloth he was holding. He ducked his head slightly, focusing on the counter. “Well, you make it easy to listen,” he said softly.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before leaning forward on the counter, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Okay, your turn. I always tell you what I’m up to—what about you? What’s Wonwoo’s big dream?”

He hesitated, caught off guard. “I, uh… I study literature,” he admitted finally, his ears burning. “I want to teach one day. Maybe at a university.”

Your face lit up. “Wait, that’s so cool! What kind of literature?”

“Modern, mostly,” he said, relaxing slightly under your genuine interest. “I’ve been working on a thesis about the intersection of memory and identity in postwar fiction.”

Your eyes lit up, the exhaustion slipping from your features for a moment. “No way! Okay, you’re officially not allowed to judge me for being a nerd anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever judged you,” he replied, his voice quieter now.

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sudden weight of his words hung between you for just a moment too long. Your lips quirked upward, something unreadable flickering across your face, before you leaned back. “Thanks for the drink, Wonwoo,” you said softly, brushing your fingers over the counter before packing your bag.

It wasn’t until later that night, long after you’d left, that Wonwoo let himself linger on the memory. You’d never said his name like that before, soft and deliberate, like you were testing how it felt. He couldn’t help but replay the way your lips had curved around the syllables, how you’d looked at him like he wasn’t just another barista in another café.

For the first time, the thought crept in, unbidden but relentless: This could be something.

It was absurd, of course. You were you—full of life and light, with dreams bigger than the small confines of this café. And he was… just him. But he couldn’t stop the quiet ache that spread through his chest, the flicker of a hope he knew he had no right to hold.

He glanced toward the window, where the neon café sign reflected against the glass. It reminded him of a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark, and he wondered if you could feel it too—that pull, that something unspoken lingering between you.

It had been a slow evening at the café, the kind of night where the clock ticked louder than the murmur of customers, and the air was thick with the scent of coffee grounds and faint traces of sugar. Wonwoo was wiping down the tables, his mind half-focused on the task, when the chime of the door pulled his gaze upward.

It was you, of course.

You always showed up at odd hours, just as the café was starting to empty, like you knew he’d have more time to talk to you then. Tonight, you were bundled in a scarf that swallowed half your face, your nose pink from the cold. You waved at him as you approached the counter, your eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that made his heart do that stupid fluttering thing he wished he could control.

“Hi, Wonwoo,” you greeted, pulling the scarf down. Your breath puffed out in little clouds. “I swear it’s colder in here than it is outside. What’s a girl gotta do to get some hot chocolate around here?”

He smiled softly, already reaching for the cocoa powder. “You could ask nicely.”

“I could,” you said, leaning against the counter. “But it’s more fun to whine about it.”

Wonwoo chuckled, shaking his head as he worked. He knew your drink by heart now: extra whipped cream, a dusting of cinnamon, and just a hint of vanilla. It wasn’t on the menu, but he made it for you anyway, the way he always did.

“Late night studying again?” he asked as he set the mug in front of you.

You groaned dramatically. “Dissertations are evil, Wonwoo. Did you know that? If I don’t turn into a husk of a human being by the time I finish this, it’ll be a miracle.”

“What’s the topic again?”

“Corporate compliance in environmental policy.” You said it like the words physically pained you. “Which, by the way, sounded way cooler in my head when I picked it.”

Wonwoo nodded, leaning against the counter as you took your first sip of hot chocolate. He’d heard you talk about your dissertation before, but he never got tired of it. There was something about the way you got so animated, even when you were complaining, that made him want to listen forever.

“You’ll do great,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him then, your smile soft, almost shy. “Thanks, Wonwoo. That means a lot.”

The café was nearly empty now, the last few customers filtering out as the night dragged on. But you stayed, your mug cradled between your hands, talking about your classes and your professors and the funny thing that happened on the bus earlier. Wonwoo didn’t care that his shift technically ended ten minutes ago. He didn’t care that he still had cleaning to do. All he cared about was the way your laugh filled the quiet spaces around him, the way your eyes sparkled when you told a story.

He felt it again, let himself imagine it —something more. Something real.

It was a dangerous thought, one that he tried to push away as soon as it surfaced. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you were sitting there, looking at him like he was someone worth talking to, someone worth spending time with.

The sound of your phone buzzing broke the moment. You glanced at the screen, your expression softening as you read the message.

“Gotta head out,” you said, standing and wrapping your scarf around your neck again. “Thanks for the hot chocolate, Wonwoo. You’re the best.”

He watched as you walked toward the door, his heart sinking just a little. And then, just before you left, you turned back, flashing him one last smile.

“See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, his voice catching in his throat. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

The door closed behind you, and for a long moment, Wonwoo stood there, staring at the empty table where you’d been sitting. The mug was still there, half-finished, a little smudge of whipped cream on the rim.

Foolishly, Wonwoo let himself hope.

The crash of dishes from the kitchen startles Wonwoo out of his daze. You’re sitting in your usual spot, tucked into the corner by the window, but the air around you feels different now. Electric. It’s him, of course—the man sitting across from you, the one who pulled him aside earlier with a conspiratorial grin and a velvet box. The one who makes your smile light up in ways Wonwoo knows he could never match.

His fingers tighten around the edge of the counter as he watches you laugh, your head tilting back slightly, the sunlight catching in your hair just so. It’s the kind of moment he’s witnessed a thousand times before, but now, there’s someone else at the center of it. Someone who isn’t him.

The ache in his chest feels almost physical, and he forces himself to look away before the bitterness creeping up his throat can take hold. Instead, he busies himself with the mundane—wiping the counter, rearranging sugar packets, anything to keep his hands moving. But it doesn’t stop the sound of your laughter from reaching him, soft and bright and devastatingly familiar.

It’s unfair, he thinks, how easily Minghao fits into your world. The way he leans across the table to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, or the way you reach out instinctively to steady his coffee cup before it tips. These little moments, so effortlessly intimate, feel like tiny fractures in the armor Wonwoo has spent years building around his heart.

When Minghao glances over, catching Wonwoo’s eye with a small, polite nod, Wonwoo musters a tight smile in return. It’s not the man’s fault, after all. Minghao seems kind, thoughtful, genuine. Everything you deserve.

Wonwoo turns back toward the espresso machine, letting the whir of the grinder drown out the sound of your voice. He doesn’t want to hear it—not when it’s directed at someone else.

But before today, there was another moment. The first time you brought Minghao to the café—a moment that still plays in his mind like a film reel stuck on loop.

It was raining that afternoon, the kind of heavy downpour that made people huddle under umbrellas and rush through the streets. You’d come in with someone trailing behind you, your laughter cutting through the sound of raindrops pelting the windows.

“Wonwoo!” you’d called out, shaking water from your coat. “Two coffees, please—my usual and whatever this guy wants.”

Wonwoo glanced up from the register, his gaze landing first on you, and then on the man at your side. Minghao, you’d introduced him as, your voice warm and easy. A friend, you’d said. Just a friend.

But even then, something about the way Minghao looked at you—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing—set Wonwoo on edge.

As he worked, he could hear snippets of your conversation, your voice rising and falling in that familiar cadence he’d come to associate with comfort. Minghao was quieter, his words measured, his tone soft, but there was something about him that made Wonwoo’s stomach twist.

When he brought the drinks to your table, you’d looked up at him with that smile, the one that had always felt like it was just for him.

“Thanks, Wonwoo,” you’d said, your fingers brushing his briefly as you took the cup.

But then Minghao had thanked him too, his voice kind and unassuming, and Wonwoo had felt the ground shift beneath him.

For the rest of your visit, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting toward your table. You and Minghao talked and laughed, completely at ease with one another, and for the first time, Wonwoo felt like an intruder in the space he’d always considered yours and his.

When you left, you’d waved at him from the door, your grin as bright as ever. Minghao had followed you out, holding the door open with an easy grace that only deepened the pit in Wonwoo’s stomach.

It was the first time he realized that he wasn’t the only one who could make you smile.

The café had been alive with its usual mid-morning hum—quiet chatter from the tables, the clang of dishes in the kitchen, and the steady hiss of the espresso machine. Wonwoo had been at the counter, lost in the familiar rhythm of his work, when he heard it.

“Iced americano, please,” Minghao had said, his voice calm, self-assured, the kind of voice that felt effortless.

Wonwoo’s hand had faltered mid-pour, his grip tightening on the milk pitcher as the words registered. Iced americano? For you?

He had risked a glance toward your usual table, tucked into the corner by the window, and his chest had tightened painfully. You were there, as always, smiling, leaning forward with your chin resting on your hand. But it was different this time. The warmth of your smile wasn’t aimed at him. It was Minghao who was sitting across from you, soaking it all in. Minghao who had ordered for you.

Wonwoo had turned back to his work, trying to focus on the drink in front of him. It didn’t make sense. You hated iced americanos. He remembered the way you’d scrunched your nose the first time he had offered you one, teasing him mercilessly. “How can you drink that stuff, Wonwoo? It tastes like regret.” Your voice had been playful, your laugh easy, and he had stored that moment away like a keepsake.

But now, here you were, nodding along as Minghao ordered for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Wonwoo had finished pouring the latte in front of him, but his hands had felt mechanical, detached from the rest of him. He had barely registered the weight of the drink as he placed it on the counter.

When Minghao set the iced americano in front of you, his hand had brushed yours briefly before he sat down. Wonwoo had watched as your smile softened, as you wrapped your fingers around the cup like it was something you had been craving. And then you’d laughed, the sound light and melodic, and said, “You know me best, love.”

Wonwoo’s heart had plummeted. He had gripped the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turned white, the world tilting beneath his feet. The words echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving.

You know me best.

He had turned away, pretending to busy himself with the next order. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of you smiling at Minghao, couldn’t unhear the way you had said those words with such tender conviction.

The latte he had poured earlier had gone untouched, forgotten. Wonwoo had stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of his longing pressing down on him like a lead blanket.

It was in that moment he had felt it—the quiet, gut-wrenching realization that he was losing you. Or maybe, he thought bitterly, he had never really had you at all.

It had started gradually, so slowly that Wonwoo hadn’t noticed at first. But one day, it hit him all at once, an unbearable weight that left him breathless.

The café wasn’t yours anymore.

It was yours and Minghao’s.

Wonwoo had watched from behind the counter as the two of you settled into your usual corner table. It had been your favorite spot for as long as he could remember, tucked away by the window where the sunlight streamed in just right. But now, it wasn’t just yours. Minghao was there, always, his presence seamless, like he belonged there with you.

You were sitting closer to him than you ever had to anyone else. Your shoulders almost touched, your hands occasionally brushing as you talked. Minghao had leaned over at one point, whispering something in your ear, and you had laughed—soft and sweet, the kind of laugh that used to belong to Wonwoo’s mornings.

He had turned away, pretending to be busy wiping down the counter, but his ears had caught every word of your conversation.

“Do you think we’ll need more space if we get two dogs?” Minghao had asked, his voice playful, teasing.

Wonwoo’s hands had stilled, the cloth hanging limply in his grasp. His heart had tightened painfully in his chest, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening.

“Maybe,” you replied, your laughter light and carefree. “But only if you’re okay with them taking over your meditation spot.”

Minghao’s voice warm and steady. “Guess we’ll have to buy that house on the prairie sooner than later, huh?”

Wonwoo had turned his back to you then, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He had clutched the counter like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground, trying to drown out the image of you and Minghao planning a future together. A house. Dogs. A life so vividly painted that it felt like a cruel joke.

The café had always been a sanctuary for him, a place where you existed in the quiet corners of his life. But now, it felt foreign, a space where he no longer belonged. It was your spot now, not his.

He had overheard snippets of your plans, dreams spoken aloud with an ease that tore at him. Every word had been a reminder that he was on the outside looking in, that he was just the quiet boy behind the counter who made your coffee exactly the way you liked it.

The café had once been the place where you smiled at him like he was the only person in the world. Now, it was the place where he watched you fall in love with someone else.

He had stood there, surrounded by the hum of conversations and the clatter of dishes, feeling like a ghost haunting his own memories.

It’s cruel, how easily Minghao trusted him with this moment. How he asked Wonwoo, like it was nothing, to hide the ring in the dessert he’s delivering now. As if his hands weren’t trembling as he plated it, as if his chest wasn’t heavy with the weight of knowing this is the last piece of you he’ll ever get to hold.

The plate feels heavier than it should as he carries it to your table. He’s aware of every step, of every breath, as if his body is moving through molasses. The dessert—a slice of tiramisu, your favorite—rests delicately in his hands, but it feels like a cruel joke now. A symbol of everything he’ll never be.

Your laughter rings out as he approaches, light and melodic, and he wonders if it’s the last time he’ll hear it like this—so free, so untouched by the gravity of the moment about to unfold. Minghao’s hand rests casually on the table, his fingers inches from yours, and Wonwoo can’t help but notice the way you lean into his presence like it’s second nature. Like it’s home.

He sets the plate down in front of you with practiced ease, though his hands still shake when he pulls away.

“Here you go,” he says, his voice steadier than he expected. “Enjoy.”

You look up at him then, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you smile. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

His name on your lips is both a balm and a wound, and for a moment, he thinks he might shatter under the weight of it. But he nods, retreating to the counter where he can watch from a safe distance, where he can fall apart in silence.

You don’t notice the ring at first. You’re too busy teasing Minghao about stealing a bite before you’ve even had a chance to dig in. But then, your fork clinks against something, and you pause, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“What’s this?” you murmur, carefully pulling the ring free from its hiding place.

Minghao is already on his feet, rounding the table to kneel beside you. The café seems to hold its breath as he takes your hand, his eyes shining with a mix of nerves and affection.

Wonwoo looks away.

He doesn’t need to see it. The proposal. The way your face lights up as realization dawns. The way Minghao’s words tumble out in a rush, practiced yet trembling with sincerity. He doesn’t need to watch you say yes.

But the sound reaches him anyway. Your gasp, the hitch in your voice, the soft “Oh my God, yes,” that shatters the fragile cocoon he’s wrapped himself in. He doesn’t need to watch as you throw your arms around Minghao, your laughter spilling over like sunlight breaking through a storm.

Wonwoo keeps his eyes fixed on the counter, his hands clutching at the edge like it’s the only thing tethering him to the ground. He busies himself with wiping a nonexistent stain, scrubbing at the surface with the ferocity of someone trying to erase something far more permanent.

The café erupts into applause, a ripple of congratulations that echoes around him. He forces himself to glance up, just once, because some part of him craves the closure, even as it twists the knife deeper.

There you are, in Minghao’s arms, your face pressed against his shoulder as you laugh through your tears. The ring glints on your finger—a promise, a future, a life that will never include him. He looks away again, but it doesn’t help. The image is burned into his mind, an afterimage of something he never truly had but still somehow feels like he’s lost.

Wonwoo wonders if this is how it will always feel. If he’ll spend the rest of his life haunted by the ghost of what could have been. If every slice of tiramisu he plates will carry the faint echo of this moment, of your laughter and Minghao’s smile and the unbearable weight of knowing he helped make it all possible.

He hears you call his name, bright and warm and unknowing, and he turns automatically, his heart betraying him even now. You’re holding up your hand, showing him the ring, and your joy is blinding.

“Wonwoo, can you believe it?!” you exclaim, your voice ringing with the kind of happiness that should be infectious, but only makes his chest ache.

His smile is reflexive, a practiced thing, and it feels like it might crack under the pressure. “Congratulations,” he says, the word catching slightly in his throat. “I’m really happy for you.”

You beam at him, and he thinks, not for the first time, how cruel it is to love someone who has no idea they’re breaking you - your smile is everything he ever wanted but could never have.

Later, when the café is empty and the lights are dimmed, Wonwoo sits at one of the corner tables, staring at the spot where you and Minghao had sat. He imagines you there, still laughing, still radiant.

And for a moment, he thinks he sees it in the reflection of the glass—the ghost of a love he never had, far off in the distance. It glows brightly, just out of reach, always just beyond his fingertips. And he, the fool, has spent what feels like his whole life chasing it, pretending he could make it his.

The tiramisu was perfect. The moment was perfect. Everything unfolded exactly as it should have.

And yet, Wonwoo sits there, alone, with the unbearable weight of knowing that some dreams were never meant to be more than that—dreams.

The café feels colder now, emptier somehow, and for the first time, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to find warmth here again. He feels the truth settle over him like the weight of an old, forgotten grief:

You were never meant to be his.

Not really.

Not ever.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Hi @cosmicluci thanks so much for this comment; I have thoughts, so I decided it would be easier to reply to this in a reblog so I’m not breaking it into loads of individual replies :)

I'm actually so glad someone asked more about this bc I wanna talk about it lol

Okay so we're all on the same page, this is the quote from the scene: The grave of the Countess Mircalla was opened; and the General and my father recognized each his perfidious and beautiful guest, in the face now disclosed to view. The features, though a hundred and fifty years had passed since her funeral, were tinted with the warmth of life. Her eyes were open; no cadaverous smell exhaled from the coffin. The two medical men, one officially present, the other on the part of the promoter of the inquiry, attested the marvelous fact that there was a faint but appreciable respiration, and a corresponding action of the heart. The limbs were perfectly flexible, the flesh elastic; and the leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches, the body lay immersed.

(Sourced from Project Gutenberg bc I read it on audiobook)

And a quick note in case anyone is unfamiliar: the lore in Carmilla is that vampires can be bound by strange, differing stipulations, and in this vampire's case she's bound by only ever being able to use her real name or an anagram of her real name. Her og human name was Mircalla and she went by the name Carmilla when we saw her during the novel.

What particularly caught me about this passage was that I just found it almost funny in how jarring this description is, having so much detail about Carmilla's body and then being like 'oh, also she was lying in SEVENTEEN AND A HALF CENTIMETRES OF BLOOD' it really caught me off guard lol.

There's nothing in this description that discounts the possibility of a little pillow specifically, but unless they scooped her out of the coffin to check her heartbeat and respiration then this probably isn't possible - oooo unless maybe they took a pulse from her throat and tracked breathing from her nose and/or mouth?

The potential buoyancy is intriguing me so I'm going to do some research into that rn -

Blood is denser than water, but minimally. According to Drology, which was the first site that came up when I searched for this, blood is approximately 1.06 g/ml, whilst water is approximately 1 g/ml.

I have found a buoyancy calculator online and am about to do some maths (why am I this invested in this? no-one knows)

According to purecremation.co.uk, the average coffin size is 60cm wide and 200 to 210cm long; let's call that 60 cm x 205 cm, which is 24 inches x 82 inches or thereabouts. So the volume of blood in the coffin was 60 x 205 x 17.5 = 215,210 cubic cm, or 0.215250 cubic metres.

Carmilla was written in 1872. We can assume Carmilla is originally from Austria (when alive) based on the context added late on in the novel about how she became a vampire, and she is also described as appearing approximately similar in age to Laura, who is 19. I have been researching this for a while now and I cannot find anything definitive on the average mass of twenty year old women in Austria in the 1870s, but I've probably already overestimated the size of her coffin because people used to be on average shorter than they are now so let's jsut assume there will be small discrepancies in this research. I found the current average mass of an Austrian woman between 18-25 was reported to be 68.1 kg, which means that she would displace 0.0681 cubic metres of volume when she lay in that volume of water or 0.0667 cubic metres of blood if she lay in blood.

The buoyancy calculator asks for the following details: the fluid type from a drop down list, the volume of displaced liquid, the mass of displaced fluid, and the gravitational acceleration (pre-set at 9.81 m/s-1). It doesn't have a blood setting, weirdly enough, but starting with if she were in water ->

A displaced mass of 68.1 kg means a buoyant force of 667.8 Newtons.

There may not be a blood setting, but you CAN manually enter a fluid density so if we change that to our 1.06 g/ml ->

the buoyant force is still equal to 667.8 N.

I have to assume there would be some differences if the number weren't rounded, but I don't think a large enough difference to account for Carmilla floating.

She may have been lighter than this, but she also may have been in a small coffin so that would mean a lower volume of blood to float on. We also have to consider that maybe there was just some weird vampire shit going on

I feel like another relevant question should be how did it not smell bad if there was a 7 inch deep pool of blood in there. I also can't remember if there was any kind of explanation for why Carmilla didn't wake up and/or put up any kind of fight during this scene and her ultimate destruction, so that's potentially also a relevant discussion

ALSO - I am not a physicist, I'm a literature-obsessed biologist, so if I am completely incorrect about buoyancy someone please correct me.

Anyway, it's just a book, I know, and a fantasy book at that, but this was fun and interesting to me. There's no hate to Carmilla here btw, if anything this has made me look even more fondly on it bc I had fun :)

Welcoming more thoughts and theories on this!

Read Carmilla today and was describing to my best friend the scene where they open the coffin and find Carmilla lying in 7 inches of blood, both of us very confused how an entire 7 inches of blood was lying in this coffin

Now we’re British so we did some quick maths and determined that 7 inches is ~17.5cm and that sounds insane so I went to find my tape measure; I couldn’t find it but I found a 4 inch/10 cm ruler

My friend lay on their back on the floor of our living room whilst I measure them with this ruler and we have determined, especially since Carmilla is described as “slender”, that if she was lying in an entire 7 inches of blood that the only thing that would be visible would be the top of her nose

This was a scientific experiment

[sysig]

The brainworms are winning, clearly (Patreon)

[cruesuffix]

Micks third child is named Erik according to Google. So Les Paul (lmao), Stormy, and Erik

ahhh ok, thanks for informing me! also i still find it funny that he named his child after a damn guitar. like…that’s so him, but my gosh can the special interest take a backseat for two seconds?? lmaooo. also…cool of them to spell eric with a k, i know there’s ppl out there that do it like that but i think this is like the second time i’ve ever seen someone do that. weird rambling thing i’m doing rn so i’ll stop here lol.

[kiyomitakada]

i am going to scream (wip rambling in the tags)

[volfoss]

my #analysis or whatever but its really interesting with how much they cut out of the Jon at the banquet 1x01 scene compared to (at least the leaked version online) the original pilot and book. like not to be like yeah grrm put this much detail in there for a reason but a lot of the detail that they removed really hurts jon as a character and its so jarring to see how much they cut to take the chapter down to about 3 minutes of the episode.

[curseofbreadbear]

thinking abt lore at ... (checks watch) ... 4 in the morning

[povestotrischane]

omg babesssss if anyone has any ideas for what various knights' mecha should be named speak now or forever hold your peace

[fortunefavorsthebrave-dude]

saw furiosa it was. a movie.

[wickjump]

ran out of tags so this was cut short but.stage 1 ily… i want to learn more about you i think you’re so neat… i want to give him a nice sandwich. anyway uhhmm i don’t know much about stage 1 so this might be off but whatever freedom of speech 🇺🇸🦅

the idea of stage 1 trying to warn and protect the others in the gang from himself makes me a little sad. im picturing him wringing his little hands together all nervous and afraid after he offered them something—food, a safe place to sleep, something, trying to make up for anything he remembers or thinks he remembers doing in Stage 2 (even if the things he remembers were a dream, he can’t really tell if it was real or not) —and them not knowing what is going on with him or if they can trust him at all. last time they saw him he looked different and he definitely didn’t care about anyone but himself.

and like, depending on how they react to him—he could come to desperately cling on to this one fragile connection outside of his programming and maybe there’s hope for him even if he doesn’t think it’ll last, but if they reject him or react with indifference or hostility it could send him deeper into dissociation—or even trigger Stage 2 as a defense mechanism

[diamonddaze01]

beautiful fool [TEASER]

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader | teaser wc: 0.6k genre: angst angst angst | vaguely based on the great gatsby warnings: really really sad (i’m not sorry) a/n: the angst olympics have begun and this one goes out to @gotta-winwin this is only a SLIVER of the pain i will cause u i love u sm // thank u to @ylangelegy and @haologram for beta-ing i love u both muah

the angst olympics are live! check out all the amazing authors <3 join my taglist here

summary: Foolishly, Wonwoo let himself hope.

It’s cruel, Wonwoo thinks, how the sound of your laughter feels like both a blessing and a punishment.

The laughter now—it reminds him of the first time he heard it, ringing out like an unintentional symphony in this same café, on a day when the clouds hung heavy outside and the tables were quiet. You’d burst in with the kind of presence that demanded attention, the bell above the door jangling in your wake as you called out a cheerful, “What’s good here, huh? I need recommendations from the experts!”

You’d strode up to the counter, all wide eyes and crinkled smiles, resting your elbows on the worn wood like you belonged there. And Wonwoo—awkward, reserved Wonwoo—could only blink for a moment too long before fumbling for words.

“Um,” he had managed, his voice barely carrying over the soft jazz playing in the background. “The, uh, the matcha latte is… popular?”

“Popular?” you’d repeated, feigning horror as if he’d personally offended you. “That’s the best you’ve got? Come on, barista guy, sell me on it! Give me the rundown—what’s the vibe? Is it creamy, is it sweet? Am I about to ascend to a higher plane of existence?”

The words tumbled out of you like you couldn’t stop them, every syllable bubbling with life. He’d tried to respond, he really had, but his gaze kept catching on the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled. How your lips quirked in amusement even as you teased him. How, somehow, your laughter seemed to make the dull, gray afternoon outside feel brighter.

“It’s… creamy,” he’d said lamely, his face warming. “And… uh, it’s sweet, yeah.”

“Sold,” you’d said with a grin that made his chest ache.

When he handed you the drink, your fingers had brushed his for the briefest second. He remembered how you took a sip, sighed dramatically, and declared, “Barista guy, you were right—I might actually ascend. Thank you for this life-changing experience.”

You hadn’t stayed long that day, just enough to finish your drink and leave a tip in the jar, but Wonwoo had found himself replaying the scene over and over in his head that night. He remembered everything—the way you’d wrinkled your nose at the cold weather outside, the exact cadence of your laugh, the way you’d glanced over your shoulder as you left, flashing him one last smile.

He’d learned later, when you became a regular, that this was just you. Full of energy, full of light. But that first meeting stayed with him, a snapshot of you permanently etched into his memory.

The fifth time you came into the café, the heat outside was so stifling that not even the air conditioner could stop the sweat from rolling down Wonwoo’s temples. By then, he’d learned so much about you in the smallest of ways. Your usual drink had changed once—just once—during a brutal heatwave, and you’d swapped it out for an iced Americano, claiming it “felt like a personality betrayal.” He’d learned you liked your pastries warmed, but not too warm, and that you loved to read but always left your books with bent corners, something that made him wince and you laugh.

And he’d learned your name.

That was the first barrier you broke—offering your name with a playful smile as he handed you your drink. “You’ve been calling me ‘matcha latte’ in your head this whole time, haven’t you?” you teased.

He’d stumbled over his words, his ears turning red, and you’d laughed again, your name falling so naturally from your lips it stuck in his mind immediately.

[crows-of-buckets]

I think romancing Lucanis as a crow is specifically fun bc like.

Imagine you're one of the other talons. Some whelp fucks up a mission to get rid of the antaam, and yet for some reason Viago doesn't kill them (you know he has a soft spot for that crow, his little protege, but you don't mention it. They're out of the way, that's all that matters right now). You go on with your life.

The First Talon dies. You and the other talons gather to watch one of her grandchildren take her place (you never did think Illario would end up in her shoes. He somehow managed to prove you wrong). Suddenly this Crow who fucked up that one job busts in with Lucanis "demon of Vyrantium" dellamorte with them. The two of them take down Illario (they work together so smoothly, like they've done it all their lives. Lucanis threatens to kill Illario over hurting them. You hear Teia cheering them on. You're too busy killing venatori to think about it). Afterwards, the previous first talon whom you thought was DEAD walks in, and names Lucanis first talon. Instead of making his own decision on what to do with his cousin, Lucanis asks the de riva crow what he needs to do?? And listens to what they have to say??

Okay weird. It's whatever, maybe they have good advice (you doubt it. They REALLY fucked up that job). You later find out that Lucanis took a job for them, and you explain his weird behavior away with that. You move on with your life.

Fast forward a few months, Lucanis Dellamorte has killed a god. So has Rook de Riva, the little shit who fucked up the job??? They also possibly killed/tricked/convinced ANOTHER god?

At some gathering of the talons you make a joke about someone needing to assassinate them before their ego gets too big. Suddenly you have not one, but THREE talons threatening to take you out. Viago and Teia you can kind of understand, but Lucanis??? This is where you find out that APPARENTLY Lucanis and rook are a thing. You just threatened the first talon's partner TO HIS FACE.

This random little asshole from house de Riva has THREE different talons wrapped around their finger. Do you know how jarring that has to be for the other talons??? It's so funny to me idk. Rook de Riva and their murder of talons

[astonmartinii]

copycat | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but really it's just annoying

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

note: sorry to all of the chloes of the world, i just chose a random name!

f1tea

liked by user1, user2 and 27,305 others

tagged: yourusername, chloereed

f1tea: SHE STRIKES AGAIN! y/n y/ln, oscar piastri's girlfriend, recently changed up her style with some bangs and surprise, surprise chloe reed shared her updated look just days later. then to really pour salt in the wound, reed posted yet again in mclaren merch. will she ever give up?

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user3: BRO YOU COULDN'T HAVE WAITED AT LEAST A WEEK?

user4: i think all subtlety was lost when she copied a literal TATTOO

user5: the way it's y/n's tattoo dedicated to oscar as well...

user6: at what point do we get a restraining order?

user7: the day that girl ends up in the paddock we should let y/n fight her with no consequences

user8: this has been going on for so long i feel like y/n has a lot to unleash on her

user9: at this point i think all of us y/n fans should be able to get their lick in

user10: i'm new to f1 can someone explain this lore to me? (srs)

user11: y/n and oscar have been together for nearly four years now, they got together when they were like 19. this chloe reed girl went on one date with oscar when they were 17 and now copies everything y/n does to try and get his attention? like down to haircut and tattoos ... it's kinda crazy and y/n has made some references to it but like we're nearing like the third year of this so i think she might snap soon

user12: it's even got to the point where chloe has like started talking with y/n's accent? she has a very obvious accent so like it's INSANE

user13: and to think all of this over a single date SIX YEARS AGO

user14: on a brighter note - y/n was MADE for bangs they look so fucking good

user15: obviously she should stop but if there's anyone you want to look like, it would be y/n

user16: at this point is it even over oscar anymore? or has chloe lost herself to journey to BECOME y/n

user17: the fact that she still camps out under all of oscar's posts and constantly posts in mclaren merch

user18: and don't even get me started with how she's always in the comments of oscar's sisters' comments

user19: someone needs to get nicole to put this girl on blast

user20: remember before elon took away public likes that mark went on a liking spree about chloe being a lil weirdo

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant and 1,209,566 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris & maxfewtrell

yourusername: summer breakin' with my boy (and his boy)

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user24: MAMA THERE'S A BITCH TRYNA BE JUST LIKE YOU 💜

user25: i unfortunately think she's very aware of it

oscarpiastri: i know you love me because you didn't get annoyed about THEM gatecrashing our couples getaway

landonorris: what if we are a couple HUH???

oscarpiastri: max literally has a girlfriend?

landonorris: ur so close-minded osc

yourusername: i love you osc even with these little stray cats you've picked up

landonorris: did we or did we not organise a super romantic dinner for you?

oscarpiastri: i organised a dinner and you two are so fussy that you left to find some chicken nuggets?

landonorris: therefore giving you a romantic evening on the water?

yourusername: you fell in the water trying to get back on board from the tender and i had to jump in and save you after a fish touched your foot and you began to have a panic attack

landonorris: god you do something nice for people and all you get is SHAMED

mclarenf1: you nearly drowned ???

user26: is chloe going to attempt to drown someone so she can claim she also saved an f1 driver

user27: @georgerussell63 alert the GDPA - NO WATER !!!

georgerussell63: understood 🫡

user28: has it not gotten to a crazy point now that we're warning drivers that this crazy girl might DROWN them ???

user29: at what point do we put oscar and y/n is witness protection

user30: the day she manages to get in the paddock me thinks

charles_leclerc: i see our invite got lost in the mail?

yourusername: please refer to whatever the fuck was going above your comment

charles_leclerc: that you're a victim of identity theft?

yourusername: we been known, but BEFORE THAT

charles_leclerc: oh. you should've let lando drown

landonorris: ???

oscarpiastri: i think that might have gotten me fired?

yourusername: no more papaya rules?

chloereed

liked by user31, user32 and 11,045 others

chloereed: summer breakin'

view all comments

user33: oh brother this guy STINKS

user34: i am feeling sufficiently creeped out on the behalf of y/n and oscar

user35: i really don't understand her game here though? does she expect oscar to see this and actually mistake her for y/n and leave y/n for her?

user36: at this point i think she's lost in the sauce

user37: also oscar is hilariously down bad for y/n like he could probably recognise her via vibrational field he would not fall for this cheap imitation

logansargeant: this ain't it btw (it's never been it)

user38: not logan tapping in

logansargeant: who gon check me boo? i ain't got a job

chloereed: i don't know what you're trying to say, but i don't appreciate you spreading misinformation and hate

logansargeant: you have literally copied everything about my best friend down to her sentimental tattoos and you've essentially stalked my other bestfriend for nearly seven years ?

chloereed: it's not stalking if i know i'm what he really wants? she's the imitation of me

logansargeant: you like need help

user39: GO LOGAN

user40: bro has been let of the leash

user41: tbf when you think about it, logan has been friends with oscar for years and by default friends with y/n for just as long so like he's probably seen how this has effected them personally

user42: i don't really see how this is such a big deal, people try and imitate celebs all the time ?

user43: i think it's because she knows at least one of them personally and is very viciously pursuing oscar

user44: also there has to be an aspect we don't know because i don't think logan would be publicly taking her on in the comments if it weren't a lot worse

user45: also ... like it probably feels like shit as a person generally to have everything you do copied and not even get a tiny bit of credit

f1

liked by danielricciardo, patooward and 1,784,039 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 & oscarpiastri

f1: we're ready for you monza

view all comments

user46: OMG IS THAT?

user47: i'm being so for real y/n needs to fight her

user48: OSCAR RUNNNNNNNNN

landonorris: do i need to inform the legal department?

yourusername: you might want to give them some sort of heads up

chloereed: why you afraid i'll steal back my man?

yourusername: no i'm afraid i'll get hit with a manslaughter charge

chloereed: that's a threat - my lawyers will be hearing

yourusername: tell them bitch, oscar would still choose conjugal visits with me over ever being with you

user49: came for the fast cars, staying for whatever this drama is omg

user50: i once went on a reddit deep dive about this drama where they compiled all the evidence and holy moly this confrontation has been a long time coming

user51: the best (or maybe worse) thing abotu all of this is that her claim of being with oscar first and dating him when they were 17 is based on one 'date' where is was just a joint ball between their schools where there was a compulsory dance in which they were partners

maxverstappen1: yo this shit is insane

user52: aren't you meant to be in the car in 20 minutes?

maxverstappen1: drama waits for no one @yourusername i got ur back

charles_leclerc: at this point i will mobilise the tifosi @yourusername

yourusername: i can handle her, i might just need some money to fix my nails

oscarpiastri: please do not fight her, she's not worth it

chloereed: she won't fight for your love but i will

oscarpiastri: can you just fuck off

user53: i fear she's pushed them over the edge now lol

user54: i'm glad they're both letting her have it in the PUBLIC INSTAGRAM COMMENTS <3

f1tea

liked by user55, user56 and 34,982 others

f1tea: she's finally done it? chloe reed was spotted in the paddock at monza. will we finally see a confrontation between the two girls?

view all comments

user55: i FUCKING hope so

user56: if i were y/n you'd have to hold me back i'm being so serious

user57: i'd be in oscar's mclaren so fast and be driving down the pit lane to look for her

user58: i'd already be in an italian prison sorry not sorry

user59: y/n needs to give me lessons on being this graceful

user60: at this point we should just have an undercard for the race that's these girls tussling it out

user61: at this point i think logan, charles and max are ready to jump in

user62: charles and max being in the comments just before FP getting the scoop is so insane i love them

user63: imagine getting these f1 drivers this pressed over an aesthetic

user64: if you think this is just about an aesthetic you're just being dumb on purpose

user65: but like y/n is just a girl with bangs and a basic look, u could say like half of the female population are copying y/n

user66: but like please look at the actual evidence, it's way deeper than bangs babe

user67: also the TATTOO WHY ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT THE TATTOO

user68: whatever happens y/n will always be better than me

user69: she needs to bash her publicly if she won't beat her physically lol

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 3,984,022 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please leave us alone, you'll never be her and i don't want you to be

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user71: STUNT ON THEM QUEEN

user72: a man who vocally defends you >>>

yourusername: love you bby

oscarpiastri: if anyone wants to take me away from you they'll have to defeat me in combat

yourusername: not saying i want that but you would be so sexy in full armour

oscarpiastri: for you... i would wear anything :3

user73: bro said his piece and immediately went back to simping like a pro

user74: if he doesn't offer to wear a suit of armour in the bedroom is he really in love with you?

user75: i guess we're not getting any dad!oscar content any time soon

landonorris: ???

user75: it's a joke about protected sex genius

landonorris: OH

chloereed: that's not what you said then oscar

oscarpiastri: THAT WAS SIX YEARS AGO IN A CONVERSATION I WAS OBLIGATED TO HAVE GET A GRIP WOMAN

oscarpiastri: YOU WILL NEVER FEEL SATISFACTION IN YOUR LIFE IF YOU CONTINUE TO COPY EVERYTHING SHE DOES AND REFUSE TO BE YOUR OWN PERSON

oscarpiastri: so PLEASE FOR YOUR OWN SAKE GET YOUR OWN LIFE AND LEAVE US ALONE

oscarpiastri: oh. i'm blocked

oscarpiastri: slay

user76: so ... oscar... when can we get this level of reading on the radio

yourusername: don't make him do community service :(

user77: but him being sassy is a service to the community

yourusername: you make a good point

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 2,045,677 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: you can be a copy cat all you like, but you'll never beat the original

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user78: i am sorry i exist at the same time as you

user79: i know this a whole love post but i have a confession, i am IN LOVE WITH YOU GET RID OF THE AUSSIE

oscarpiastri: 🤨

charles_leclerc: this was a whole saga, i'm happy it's all worked out for you guys but this was hella entertaining - when can we do it again?

yourusername: never again hopefully

charles_leclerc: boring!

yourusername: it literally got to the point that you offered to leave your car keys in a 'special spot'

charles_leclerc: well obviously i don't mean to THAT extent but i just want a bit of drama, let a girl live

user80: shit stirrer charles leclerc i love you

user81: we should've known he was in the trenches with this, the inchident knows no bounds

oscarpiastri: i love you and i'm sorry this happened. but you do slay so i could see why people would want to be you

yourusername: i knew me with bangs would be too powerful 😔

oscarpiastri: you're the most beautiful girl in the world no matter what

yourusername: ugh you have me blushing pretty boy

landonorris: cringe

yourusername: maybe if you copied oscar's flirting techniques you'd actually be wifed

landonorris: i thought we just established that copying is bad

yourusername: trust me, you need the help

user82: i'm glad we've returned to peace with the lando slander

user83: they're power is insane

maxverstappen1: can i say helping you come up with this caption is my community service

yourusername: fuck yes

maxverstappen1: stunting on hoes is very much in the public interest

fin.

note: i'm back in a rhythm !! this is not so subtle so i'll expand here: please please please do not steal my work, idc if you change the driver, if you're blatantly stealing my ideas and concepts - to the point that people are messaging me to make me aware, please don't! or at least credit me rather than pretending this a completely original thought. mamma mia didn't bother me as much because it's obviously the musical's idea, but omg undercover verstappen? big reputation? and guilty as sin - down to the series name? i haven't made any posts about this but know it's very much bothering me and if i see anymore i may have to put it on blast. thank you all for reading, soz for the rant but this has been going on for months.

[calypsocolada]

how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!

cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread

wc: 5k

click here for my masterlist

Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 

“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 

“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 

“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.

“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 

“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 

“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.

-

You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.

“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.

“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”

“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 

“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.

“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.

“I know that.” 

“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.

-

Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 

“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.

“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 

“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.

“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 

“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.

“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 

“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.

“Anything enlightening?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.

“I would.”

“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.

-

Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 

“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.

“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 

“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 

“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 

“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.

“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”

“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”

“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 

“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”

“Why though?”

“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.

-

Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 

The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.

“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 

“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 

“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”

“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”

-

Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 

You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 

He’d never chased after someone so hard. 

You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 

It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.

“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 

“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.

“I’m very busy, you know.”

“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.

“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.

“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.

“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.

“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”

“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 

“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”

“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 

“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 

“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.

“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 

“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.

“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.

-

Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.

“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 

“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.

“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.

“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.

“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.

“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”

“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 

“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 

“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.

“I- I came to relax of course!”

“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 

“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 

“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm… y-yes?” 

“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 

“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 

“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 

“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 

“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 

“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 

“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 

“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”

“Kill me?” You filled in.

“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 

His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 

“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.

“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 

“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”

“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.

“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.

“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 

“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.

“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?