#and maybe now you can go back and listen to the songs from that time again

[slattlicker]

Request: reader is out dress shopping for summer sundresses and Schlatt tags along. Reader tries on something white, which makes Schlatt short circuit, and suddenly, all he can think of is reader dressed in white for their wedding day. Silly, ik but you're fantastic at this sort of domestic fluff. Thank you!

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * maybe someday ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: a summer afternoon, a sundress, and a boy who looks at you like he’s already planning forever. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: thank you to the anon who sent this in ♡ this one made me kick my feet the whole time—hope it gives you that same fizzy, heart-squishy feeling.

warning: soft boy behavior. iced coffee hand-holding. dangerous amounts of compatibility.

enjoy! (｡•́︿•̀｡)♡

✧✧✧

schlatt is standing in the middle of a boutique that smells like citrus and linen, holding a purse that isn’t his.

he’s got one shoulder leaned against the wall by the dressing room, bags in hand, sunglasses tucked into the collar of his t-shirt, and a half-empty iced coffee dripping condensation onto his wrist. it’s fine. it’s all fine. he’s not suffering.

not really.

it’s not that he hates shopping. okay—he does, but only when it’s for himself. this? watching you pull hangers off racks with a little hum under your breath and dart back into the fitting room with a pile of color-coded maybes? this is different.

you like summer, and you like sundresses, and—maybe most annoyingly—you like asking for his opinion.

"be honest," you called from behind the curtain, rustling fabric as you adjusted something. "this one’s not too short, right?"

he took a sip of his coffee and muttered, “you say that like i’d ever complain about that.”

you’d laughed. “pervert.”

“your pervert,” he said, grinning when he heard you snort.

that was dress number three.

he’s on dress number six now. and honestly? he’s doing fine. better than expected. the stool they gave him is cushioned, and his phone has just enough signal for him to doomscroll in peace while he waits for your next dramatic reveal.

still, there’s something twitchy under his ribs.

not bad. just… buzzing. like he’s waiting for something, even if he doesn’t know what.

he checks the time. sips his coffee again. listens to the soft music overhead—some indie-pop cover of a 70s song he can’t place—and leans his head back against the wall with a soft thud.

you’ve been in there a little longer this time.

the curtain shifts.

he looks up.

and that’s when everything goes quiet.

you step out.

you’re barefoot, adjusting the hem where it clings a little at the thigh. your hair’s a little messy from pulling dresses over your head. your arms do this quick little sweep down your sides like you’re brushing off invisible lint.

t falls just past your knees, soft and simple. short sleeves, a little lace at the edge. cotton. easy. plain, really.

but it’s white.

and schlatt’s whole body just… stills.

you don’t notice. you’re too busy smoothing your hands over your sides, checking the fit in the mirror, adjusting the straps like any other outfit. your expression is thoughtful. casual. not at all self-conscious.

you’re not trying to make a scene.

but to him, it might as well be a fire alarm going off.

his chest goes tight. breath catches. he doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s definitely not the teasing grin you’re probably expecting.

you glance over at him. “what do you think?”

he should answer.

you’re just asking a simple question. does it look good? does it fit? is it flattering?

he doesn’t think you even realize what color you’re wearing.

but he sees it.

and all he can do is stare.

not at the dress. at you.

it’s the way the sunlight from the window hits your skin. it’s the way the fabric falls. it’s the bare legs. the bare shoulders. the softness in your mouth when you smile at him without even thinking twice.

it’s nothing.

it’s everything.

he sees you like this and suddenly it’s not a store anymore. it’s a different room. a different day. he’s not in a plastic chair with a cup of iced coffee and a bag slung over his wrist. he’s standing at the front of something big. huge. irreversible.

he sees a ring. a quiet ceremony. your hand in his. a reception full of ugly crying and cake and open bar regrets. he sees a blurry photo on the fridge from that night for years to come. your eyes closed. his forehead pressed to yours.

shit. get a grip, he thinks.

you raise your eyebrows. “schlatt?”

he coughs. nods a little too quickly. “yeah. looks good.”

“just good?” you say, half-smiling. “i thought this one was cute.”

he looks at you again.

you look beautiful.

his throat is too dry. he swallows, hard.

“you look…” he hesitates, then gives up. “yeah. cute. really cute.”

you beam at him.

he tries not to look like he’s panicking.

you turn back to the mirror, tilting your head as you consider the neckline.

✧✧✧

you’re back in your regular clothes now—your usual top, your favorite jeans—and schlatt’s carrying the boutique bag in one hand like it weighs nothing.

it’s a small bag. light. one dress.

just one.

“you really didn’t have to,” you say for the third time as the two of you head down the sidewalk. “white gets dirty so fast. i’ll spill something on it within an hour.”

“then don’t spill,” he shrugs.

“i’m serious. i’m like… magnetized to stains.”

“yeah, and i’m magnetized to you, so i bought the dress. let’s move on.”

you give him a look. he gives you his shut up and let me be sweet look right back.

you huff out a laugh. “fine. but when i spill iced coffee down the front of it, you’re paying for dry cleaning.”

“deal,” he says, even though he absolutely won’t let you take it to the cleaners. he’ll just hand-wash it himself like some sad little 1950s husband with a crush.

you keep walking, brushing shoulders with him as you pass storefronts—stationery, plants, books.

and then, the jewelry store.

you slow at the window.

he does too, automatically.

you lean in just slightly, pointing at something in the middle of the display.

“that’s pretty,” you say, half to him, half to yourself.

it’s a necklace. simple chain, gold. one of those little charms shaped like a clover. delicate in a way he knows you like.

he hums. “want it?”

you blink. “what? no. i just thought it was nice.”

“i think you should get it.”

you glance at him, eyebrow raised. “you’re on a weird generosity streak today.”

he shrugs. tries to act normal. cool. unbothered. you shrug back, wiggling your eyebrows as you sidestep towards the entrance.

"let's go in, then. check it out. maybe see some other charm options."

he follows you in without thinking.

the store is bright and quiet, all glass cases and soft gold accents. the kind of place that smells like new things. clean. intentional. time slows a little when you walk in, like everything inside exists a few notches softer than the rest of the world.

you wander first, drifting toward a case near the front. schlatt hangs back a little, still holding the boutique bag with the dress inside. his fingers tighten slightly around the handles.

you lean forward, humming softly as you scan the display.

necklaces. bracelets. dainty earrings.

but his eyes catch on something a few steps over. a small, velvet-lined tray. white gold. yellow gold. plain bands, delicate diamonds. some paired, like they’re already waiting for a yes.

he’s still staring when the clerk approaches.

“hi there,” she says kindly, polished in that way where nothing feels rushed. “anything special you’re shopping for today?”

you smile first. “just looking, really. i saw a necklace in the window.”

“we’ve got quite a few charms at the back table,” she nods. “take your time.”

you’re already walking that way.

and then she turns her attention to him.

“and you?” she asks. “you’ve got that look.”

schlatt blinks. “what look?”

“the look of someone who’s either about to propose,” she says, grinning, “or thinking about it really hard.”

he freezes.

you’re not even paying attention—you’ve knelt slightly to point at something under the glass, calling softly over your shoulder, “do you like this chain or the thinner one?”

he doesn’t answer right away. not because he doesn’t hear you. because his brain’s locked in.

the clerk laughs, like she’s seen this reaction before. “no pressure,” she says. “a lot of people come in just to get a feel for it. sometimes it’s months before they come back.”

he swallows hard. nods. “right. yeah.”

she leaves him with that.

and he stands there, still gripping the dress bag, eyes flicking back to the tray.

he can picture it. you. standing here with him. picking something together. holding his hand a little tighter when they box it up. laughing nervously when the woman behind the counter says congratulations before anything’s even happened.

you call to him again, voice bright. “hey, babe. seriously—help me choose?”

he moves toward you, heavy-footed. still half in a daydream.

his voice is steadier when he gets there, but his heart is pounding.

“the thinner one,” he says, barely glancing at the charms.

because it’s not the necklace that’s got him reeling.

it’s the picture that won’t leave his head.

you. in white. wearing a necklace...and a ring. and his name on your paperwork.

someday. maybe. well, not maybe maybe. definitely maybe. the nervous type of maybe.

✧✧✧

the jewelry store doesn’t last long after that.

you don’t buy the necklace—not yet, you say. maybe next payday. schlatt doesn’t push. he just trails after you, blinking into the sun, still holding the boutique bag like it’s breakable. like he’s carrying more than just a dress.

you loop your arm through his, casual and easy, like your body already knows the shape of his. like it’s second nature. he lets you pull him along.

“snack?” you ask, already scanning the street.

“what kind of snack?”

“pretzel stand. back by the fountain.”

he grunts in approval.

you end up perched together on a low cement bench under a patch of filtered shade. there’s a fountain a few yards off, gurgling gently. the breeze picks up every now and then, lifting the hem of your shirt, playing with your hair. you keep brushing it behind your ear without thinking. schlatt keeps staring.

you split an order of pretzel bites—cinnamon sugar, warm and doughy in their little paper tray. your fingers brush a few times when you both reach in. he pretends not to notice. he also pretends not to care when you steal the crispiest one.

he’s mid-chew when you glance at him, eyes squinting slightly from the sun. “what was with you in there?”

he tries to play dumb. shrugs. “what do you mean?”

“you looked like someone threatened your life with all the diamonds in there.”

he snorts. “you’re dramatic.”

“you were pale. visibly pale. visibly sweating.”

“i wasn’t sweating,” he lies, knowing full well he absolutely was.

you laugh, light and easy, and god—he wants to bottle that sound.

you pop another pretzel in your mouth. “you ever think about it?”

he glances at you. you’re watching him now, all soft and unreadable.

he swallows. “yeah. sometimes.”

you nod. “me too.”

there’s a pause. warm and full.

“i wouldn’t want anything huge,” you say. “like, ceremony-wise. just something sweet. outside, if the weather’s good. late afternoon. not too hot.”

“golden hour,” he says without thinking.

you blink at him. “yeah. exactly.”

he shrugs, like he didn’t just perfectly picture the light hitting your skin while you walk toward him in some sleeveless, floaty little dream of a dress.

“and music,” you say. “something live. guitar, maybe? but nothing with a backing track.”

“definitely something like that,” he agrees. “you need the mess-ups and the time they spend tuning the instruments. makes it feel more real.”

you smile so wide your eyes crinkle, and his heart does something terrifying in his chest.

you tilt your head. “how many people at your dream wedding?”

he considers. “less than fifty. close family and close friends.”

you raise your eyebrows. “that small?”

“yeah. just people who really know us.”

“no one we hired to fake cry in the third row...”

“no one we have to hug out of obligation...”

“and the food,” you say suddenly, pointing at him. “has to be good. fucking amazing food. like, actually edible. no mystery chicken with orange sauce.”

“sushi,” he says, dead serious.

you gasp. “wait. i was literally gonna say sushi.”

you both freeze. then:

“jinx.”

it comes out together. you stare at each other.

then you laugh. hard. sudden. your head tips back and he watches your throat move as you giggle, soft curls falling into your face.

he smiles, helpless.

you nudge his knee with yours. “we’re kind of disgustingly in sync, huh?”

“a little,” he says, still staring.

you take another bite of pretzel, now a little cold. “maybe we’re just right.”

the words hang there. light. effortless. he doesn’t reply right away, but he doesn’t have to. you don’t need a response.

you both sit in the quiet a little longer, the way people do when they’ve said something important without realizing it.

you clear your throat. “so. uh. you wanna marry me over sushi platters and cry in front of like, forty people?”

“you’d definitely cry first, though.”

“no way, i wouldn’t.”

“you would,” he says, already grinning. “you’d start your vows, get like, two words in, and choke up.”

“okay, that’s extremely dramatic.”

“it’d be cute,” he shrugs. “your mouth gets all pouty and you blink real fast when you’re emotional.”

“shut up,” you mumble, nudging his foot with yours. “fine. i'd cry first. but only if you were wearing something that made you super hot.”

he raises an eyebrow, curious. “like what?”

“mmm… black suit. white shirt. no tie. sleeves rolled up after the ceremony,” you say, ticking it off like a list.

he pretends to think. “open collar?”

“obviously.”

he hums. “with the watch you got me.”

“perfect.”

you pause. tilt your head. “and i’d wear—”

“something soft, a little fitting but still comfortable,” he says immediately. “with embellishments that make you shine, and not the dress itself."

you smile. “you don’t even know what embellishments i'd want.”

“i don’t have to, although i probably do actually know. i’ll just know it's perfect when i see you at the end of the aisle.”

it gets quiet again, but warmer now. safe.

you rub a bit of sugar off your fingers. “would you want me to take your name?”

he turns his head to look at you fully this time. “yeah,” he says, no hesitation. “i think it’d suit you.”

you laugh once under your breath. “we’d sound so...married.”

“that’s the idea.”

you both go quiet again, grinning for no reason.

then, casually: “what would you call me?”

he pretends to think. “probably ‘babe,’ still. or ‘Mrs. My Last Name,’ if I’m trying to be annoying.”

“oh god.”

“Mrs. My Last Name,” he repeats, way too smug.

you groan into your hands. “you’re gonna be unbearable.”

“you love it.”

you peek at him from between your fingers, and something about the look in your eyes—sun-dappled and dangerous—makes his breath catch. you say it like it’s nothing. like it’s a joke. but it’s not. not to either of you.

“maybe someday.”

his heart skips. literally. like it has the nerve to hesitate. he nods.

“yeah,” he murmurs, so soft you almost miss it. “maybe someday.”

[agentravensong]

time for the post chapters 3&4 update to the secret lost girl / don't forget / dark truth motif post :)

i haven't sat down and combed through literally every song in the new chapters with a fine-tooth comb looking for this motif specifically, but from my listening to the ost over the past few weeks, these are the new songs that have it:

first, since it's most undeniable: "dark place"... which is basically just "the dark truth" with slightly different instrumentation, so, yeah. as a reminder, this is what the motif looks like:

(measure 8 in this transcription)

second... you won't guess this one, i think.

yeah. it uses this series of five notes, repeatedly, as part of a riff.

(measures 17 & 74 in this transcription)

to hear it in the og song (here's the link), go to 0:26 and then 2:33.

(bonus side note: the motif also appears in the background of feature presentation at 0:24 since it borrows the building riff. afaik it's not in any other tenna songs)

now. why is this here? option one is that this time it's entirely a coincidence, which i think is very possible. option two is that it's here more as a don't forget reference than a lost girl one, ala the motif's appearance in "the beginning"; don't forget is still the default main theme for the game, and with it having been referenced lyrically in this chapter during "raise up your bat", a version of it showing up as a cheeky subtle reference in what you expect to be the final boss of the chapter (which also reuses the music minigame) is fair enough, i think. toby's certainly used motifs in more spurious ways than that.

option three is that it is meant to call back to lost girl specifically. which, imo, isn't too far out of the realm of possibility, given that lost girl is dess's theme (yes it's used for other characters, but. come on. if nothing else findher.ogg just being a guitar cover of lost girl should prove it), and this chapter ramps up the references to her (see again "raise up your bat", which not only was likely written by her but also directly uses the main lost girl motif). her disappearance was the catalyst for the families no longer enjoying tv time together, after all. you could also maybe argue that, given lost girl plays shortly after when susie empathizes with tenna, it makes some character sense for his battle theme to include a bit of that sad song; a song about feeling abandoned or otherwise all on your own?

...you could also call it foreshadowing. given what happens (the tone shifting to a "dark[er] place") — or even, if you're so inclined, who shows up — next. and on that note (heh, note)...

the third instance of this motif in these chapters (that i've caught) is, thankfully, one where the "why?" makes a lot more immediate sense. unfortunately, the quote isn't exact.

here's the funny thing: i've seen people debating whether black knife contains lost girl. i haven't paid enough attention to that discourse to know where exactly they're saying they hear it... but i know where i hear lost girl in it. and i don't mean the main motif.

as a reminder, the five note motif we've been talking about in this post goes, from its starting note, down one, then down two, then up one, and then repeats the previous note.

the melody for the last section of black knife starts* with this:

*(there are technically two notes before this; screenshot is of measures 44&45 of this transcription)

if you take out the fourth note there, and raise the last by three to be repeating the previous... it's the secret motif. it's like the motif expected to keep going down — or something was dragging it down — but then it remembered itself and was able to leap back up, holding its footing for a brief moment... only to slide down again. it remembered, only to forget. it was itself, briefly, and then it lost hold.

knowing who the top knight candidates are at this point... can you see why, even with the alterations, i'm confident this is an intentional quote? even without that, the fact that this motif's most central appearances are in "the dark truth" and "dark place", which are strongly associated with the knight for obvious reasons, means its presence makes a lot of sense. if anything, this feels like the answer to why this motif was in lost girl in the first place :)

those are my findings! i'll update this post with another reblog if there turn out to be more instances that i missed. ftr i know the motif is also in "the distance between two", but that's just. guitar lost girl without the bit where it switches to girl next door's main motif. the sanctuary themes and other places in these chapters where don't forget shows up are possible other candidates but from my casual listening i haven't heard it; if anyone else finds it there or elsewhere please let me know!

what if i told you that a specific section of “lost girl” appears in “the dark truth”, the song about the roaring

(the bit in lost girl)

(the bit in the dark truth)

(if you're not typically a music-reading person, just count the vertical differences in position between each note in both)

what then

[polaritydisturbed]

Just for fun—and also because I'm bored—alright, feck it: here’s how I’d fix Wish World/Reality War.

The TARDIS doesn’t explode at the end of The Interstellar Song Contest episode. Instead, the doors open, they step outside—and wake up in Wish World. That exact moment becomes the opening of Wish World, so the story picks up from there seamlessly.

First things first: Make Conrad main antagonist. He was already set up with way more narrative weight than anyone else, so make him the central threat. Keep the Rani/Ms. Flood as the mysterious figure who frees him and hands over the baby to grant his wish—but beyond that, let her linger in the background.

Maybe don’t even reveal she’s the Rani. Keep 'em guessing

(I’ve got alternate versions where the Rani is the main villain front and center—but for this one, I’m keeping it close enough to the original so you can see how little needed to change for it to actually work.)

(And yes, we’re cutting Omega entirely. He added nothing. Absolutely nothing. Gone.)

The "Wish World" setup? Mostly the same at first. But here’s the deal: cut Poppy. Completely. Sure, there are theoretical ways to keep her without all the weird, forced motherhood implications for Belinda—but narratively? She doesn’t add enough. Clean break.

Halfway through the episode, Ruby makes another attempt to reach Belinda. This time, it’s after the brunch scene with Belinda, her mum, and her gran. Belinda’s doubts have been building; she’s finally open to listening. She’s not fully convinced—doesn’t want to believe Ruby—but she’s starting to crack.

And then—boom. The Doubt Police show up.

Because Belinda’s mum already reported her.

So Belinda and Ruby go on the run.

While hiding, they stumble across the "disabled camp"—and something’s clearly off. The authorities avoid it, almost like they don’t even notice it exists. That scene plays out similarly to the aired episode, but now Belinda is there, and what she sees starts to completely shatter her sense of reality.

Belinda decides to try to speak to her husband—John Smith/Doctor. They meet outside his workplace. But the John/Doctor—happy, peaceful, content—is deep in denial. Think Family of Blood levels of denial. He doesn’t call the Doubt Police, but he gently asks Belinda to leave. It’s heartbreaking.

Before she goes, she slips him a note. She tells him not to read it unless he starts to doubt. “If you’re sure this is real, throw it away. But if you doubt it—even just a little—open it.” Then she turns and walks away, leaving him standing there with the note in his hand.

He holds onto it for a while. At first, he tosses it in the trash bin under his desk, brushing it off. But the seed’s been planted. Doubt creeps in. Curiosity festers. Eventually, he pulls it back out—hesitates—and finally opens it.

Just four words: “Tables don’t do that.”

He doesn’t understand what it means—yet—but it lingers.

(Yes, I'm cutting the Rogue cameo. Let the characters in the actual story do the deducing. I'd keep it if it were some clever trick from the Rani, but having her break her own experiment just raises more questions than it answers in this version of events. And if we’re already regenerating Fifteen, let’s not salt the wound for Rogue unless we’re actually going to do something with him.)

Then the Reality War episode kicks off, we get a scene with the John/Doctor at work, obsessively doing the table mug thing, trying to convince his coworkers that something’s wrong. But instead of listening, they call the Doubt Police on him. This finally pushes him to seek out Belinda and the others.

That sets the stage for John/Doctor, Ruby, Belinda, and Shirley teaming up to infiltrate Conrad’s base of operations. No bone palace this time. Instead? A decadent, bloated, self-indulgent mansion—maybe even… a white one. (Listen, if the show wasn’t being subtle about who Conrad would be a fan of, why should I be?)

As they get close to confronting him, we get the reveal that Conrad—knowingly or not—was imagining Ruby specifically as unhappy. That she was unloved. That both of her mums had abandoned her. That she was miserable. He was trying to write her out of the fantasy. But because he kept envisioning her life as broken and painful, it ended up snapping her out of the illusion entirely. It didn’t trap her—it freed her. That’s why she could sense something was wrong when no one else could.

This leads to the emotional gut-punch moment: the Doctor realizes what ending this fantasy will cost him. To save everything, he has to stop being John Smith. He has to be the Doctor again—not the man with a house, a smile, and a quiet, ordinary life.

And, heart-wrenchingly, he chooses to be the Doctor anyway. (Ncuti would KILL a scene like this)

They stop Conrad—but something’s wrong. Reality is fractured. Without intervention, it’ll collapse.

And the Doctor made a promise: to get Belinda home.

So he does.

He doesn’t tell her what it will cost. He just gives her that soft, quiet look. Wishes her the happiest life. Says he’s glad she made it home.

Then he steps into the TARDIS and uses the regeneration energy and the time vortex to set things right.

From that moment on, everything plays out like it does in the original finale—but now, it lands. The Doctor’s sacrifice has meaning. Belinda’s agency is respected. Ruby’s story feels earned. Conrad gets the villain arc he deserved.

And the Rani?

She’s still out there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Smiling.

We catch a final glimpse of her, calmly going over notes from the experiment. An old TV playing moments with the Doctor in them, scribbling something. Filing it away. Ready for the next phase. (Maybe even reveal she's the Rani at this point.)

Is this version I’ve concocted perfect? Nah. But it’s at least coherent—and I wrote it on my lunch break.

PS: If it isn’t explicitly changed in the above, assume it’s still relatively the same with only minor tweaks to fit what is changed (i.e., like changing the topic of conversation between Belinda and her mum and gran to something not involving Poppy, or keeping Conrad reading from within the TARDIS—that still stays. The Rani still set that up.) I'm trying to keep it as close to what we got in the finale to show that they had all the elements of a decent story. (And yeah, sure—keep the cameo from 13 in there too. It’s fan service, but I don’t mind. It stays in as a little treat.)

[concretejunglefm]

♱ 𝔦 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔡𝔬 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

The show must go on . . . what it’s like for the members of Sleep Token to navigate a breakup with you while touring.

VESSEL

Raw emotion always bleeds into his songs whenever he performs, and now is no different. Your relationship might’ve ended long ago, but the wounds still feel fresh to him, raw enough to echo in every lyric he once wrote with you in mind.

When he can, he dances like no one’s watching, except everyone is, and they love it, but when it all becomes too much, he retreats into himself.

Offstage, he barely eats, barely sleeps. The crew might hear him singing alone late at night, but they know better than to comment or interfere. It’s his way of coping, often singing songs that never made it past his journal, pages filled with half-finished lyrics and potential.

He never speaks of you, no matter how much it hurts. He doesn’t utter a word, not even your name, except maybe in his sleep, when dreams feel too real to separate from memory. Until one night, a new song appears on the setlist—tender, aching, and unmistakably about you.

II

Everyone thinks he holds himself together the best, but eventually, it spills over, most often behind the drum set, where broken drumsticks pile up and his hands end up raw or bleeding. He throws himself into the show, into whatever needs doing, diving headfirst into tour life with the hope that it might help him get over you, but the breakup always lingers in the back of his mind, never quite fading.

Post show, he’s the one who drinks more, flirts shamelessly, his energy manic, like he’s trying to outrun the heartbreak chasing him, but at night, he goes quiet. He isolates himself, usually tucked away with a plan: watching old videos, scrolling through old photos, listening to saved voicemails. Still clinging to the pieces of you he can’t bring himself to let go of.

III

It happened during the tour, and while he never openly mentions it, your absence is felt. The effect it has on him shows in the way he plays—softer, more haunting, like he’s feeding his pain directly into the music. He’s not as openly boisterous on stage. He holds back, doesn’t entertain the crowd as eagerly, doesn’t taunt Vessel like he usually would. He sticks to his corner, quiet and withdrawn.

He clings to the things you left behind—a hoodie, a hair tie, and refuses to delete the photos he has of you. He can’t really accept that it’s over. Not yet. Not until someone asks about you and all he can manage is, “They’re not coming back.”

IV

Out of all of them, his behavior is the most noticeable. He changes his mask style, his hair, his clothes, emerging with an entirely new look, as if reinventing himself could somehow make the pain easier to bear. It’s like he’s trying to shed who he was and start fresh on the other side of your breakup.

On stage, he plays harder, flirts more boldly with Espera, though it’s clear to anyone really watching that the bravado is a mask too, one barely hiding the pain beneath.

There’s anger there, not just over the breakup, but at himself, because he knows he caused this. He didn’t give you enough, not when it mattered, and when he finds out you’ve moved on, it hits harder than he expects. For the first time, he wonders if maybe it’s time he did too.

[tangerinelace]

american love song

summary: it's all over. sam's in the pit. and dean has a choice to make.

warnings: angst, mentions of violence/death, unsatisfying ending, and once again- angst

author's note: i wrote this instead of sleeping and now i'm done. so, goodnight!

inspired by "american love song" by infinity love song and momo boyd. if you haven't heard it, go listen and thank me later. also for my destiel friends- definitely go listen to this song. this is an x reader, but that song is so damn destiel coded.

The sky is somehow still. That's the first thing you notice after all of the dust settles. Hours after Sam jumped into the pit, after he took Michael and Lucifer with him. After years and years leading up to it, after losing countless people you loved. It's all over now, and the sky is still. Like nothing ever happened. And you don't know if that's a relief or if that pisses you off even more.

Dean sits on the hood of his car, looking up at the sky. You sit inside on the passenger's seat. It is unsettlingly quiet, like the eerie calm after the storm. Where there was once rock and roll bellowing from the stereo, there is now nothing but the crickets outside and the occasional creak from the old engine. Where there was once Sam, there is nothing but his initials carved into the wooden panel of the car. Where there was once a fight, a cause, a purpose- there is now nothing. And you're not sure Dean can handle that.

The car door shuts as you walk over to him, hands in your jacket pockets. He doesn't look over at you, not even when you sit on the hood of his car right next to him. You don't touch, don't even speak for a while.

But then, you do. "You think Cas is up there?"

Dean exhales softly through his nose. "Raisin' hell, I hope."

You don't laugh at the irony this time because you know he's not joking.

You begin to think back to all of the times you two sat like this under the cloak of night before. Usually just off of an exit, too close to the highway but too far from a motel. Dean would whine about being tired, wanting to take a power nap. "Just a few hours," he'd say. And you'd go along with it. But you knew- hell you both knew. Because a few minutes would go by and suddenly you're hours deep into a conversation about nothing and everything all at once, all taking place on the hood of that car. You'd talk about memories from the road, ones from childhood, fears about the future, regrets from the past. Dean would sneak you sidelong glances, and you pretended you didn't notice. When your fingers would brush his, just barely, he wouldn't move away.

But that was before. And this is now.

You smile to yourself, though it's not one of joy. "We used to do this all the time," you recall. Maybe to Dean. Maybe to yourself.

Either way, Dean responds. First with a nod. Then, "There's a lot we used to do."

Something about that hollows out your chest. Maybe it's because it's truthful. Maybe because he said it like a conclusion. Like continuing to talk like that- to reminisce, to dream- would be continuing to hope. And Dean Winchester doesn't have a whole lot of hope left in the chamber.

And you can tell. You turn to face him, his head still aimed at the sky, hands in his own pockets. His jaw is hard and set, his eyes glaring at the sky like it personally offended him. And you figure, in a way, it did. He'd always been like that to a degree- hard and stoic. That was the result of his father raising him like a soldier. But there used to be a spark in him. A lightness to him even in dark times. An "I-can't-be-held" attitude even while shackled.

But that was before, you remind yourself again. And this is now.

That spark jumped into the pit along with Sam. Or, what was left of it. Really, it began to decay when Sam died the first time. But this was the last nail in the semi-literal coffin. Sam is gone. And Dean is... tired. You can see it on his face. You've seen it for a while now. There's creases around his lips, bags under his eyes. His shoulders droop, like there's a physical presence, a weight, crushing him.

You inch closer to him, just barely. And for just one moment, you reminisce anyway.

"You remember when I asked you if you'd ever thought about getting out?" I say, my voice hoarse still, but soft.

Dean doesn't respond for a beat too long. Then, almost like a whisper, "Yeah."

It comes out pained, as though a single word can say a million things.

You swallow. "And you said, ‘Yeah. Sometimes.’ Like maybe, if the stars aligned, you’d give it a shot.”

Dean finally glances over at you. Just barely. “I remember.”

You nod, watching the horizon instead of him. "Well," you start, the word brittle on your tongue, “I think this is it. The stars. Aligning.”

Dean’s head turns more now, shoulders shifting like he’s about to speak. But you cut him off before he can even gather the words.

“You should go,” you say, quietly. “Be with her.”

That draws the full weight of his gaze. It’s sharp. Disbelieving. “What?”

“Lisa. The kid. The house with the white fence and the dog. That could be yours.”

He scoffs, but there's no real conviction behind it. “You serious right now?”

“Dead.”

“That’s funny,” he mutters, bitter. “Because last I checked, we’re not exactly the ‘getting out’ type.”

“No,” you agree. “We’re not. But maybe that’s why you have to try. Because people like us… we don’t get chances like this. Not really. And if you stay- if you keep going down this road- it’s just gonna eat you alive.”

He stares at you, jaw clenching, something wild flickering behind his eyes. “And what about you?”

You hesitate. Just long enough for the lie to hurt. “Someone’s gotta stay behind. Pick up the slack. Cas is gone. Sam’s… gone. The work’s not.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dean growls, his voice suddenly too loud in the quiet night. “Don’t put this on the job. You’re doing this to protect me.”

“Damn right I am.”

He lets out a humorless laugh, standing and pacing a few steps away like he might punch something. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, fuming, fists clenched. You stay seated. Because if you get up, you might not stick to your decision.

He turns back to you, and his voice is softer now. Raw.

“You think I want that life? That I can just play house like none of this ever happened?”

“I think you deserve to try.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I know.”

He looks at you like you’ve slapped him. But you push forward. Because you have to.

“This is all I’ve ever known, Dean. Hunting. Surviving.” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. “I don’t know how to want anything else anymore. But you do. You’ve got an out now, and if you don’t take it-if you throw it away- I’ll never forgive you.”

Dean’s chest rises and falls like he’s trying to breathe through a storm. His eyes are glassy now, red-rimmed and angry, but he doesn’t look away. Silence blooms between you again. It stretches and stretches until it’s unbearable. Until it feels like a goodbye all on its own.

Finally, Dean speaks. “You love me.” It’s not a question. Just a statement hanging in the air, naked and unblinking.

You nod once. “Yeah. That’s why I’m letting you go.”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just stares off into the night like he’s trying to find something out there worth believing in.

“I would’ve stayed,” he says again, barely audible. “You know that, right?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “I know.”

You both sit in it... what was never said, what never got to happen.

Dean finally stands. Slow. Reluctant. Like it takes everything he has left to tear himself away from you. He rounds the Impala, stops with his hand on the doorframe.

“I ever see you again…” he begins, but can’t finish.

You smile, just a little. “You’ll pretend not to know me. Just to piss me off.”

His throat moves like he’s trying not to choke on something. Maybe the goodbye. Maybe the grief. Maybe just you.

You stand too, but don’t step forward. Can’t.

“I meant it,” you say. “About loving you.”

His jaw tics. His eyes shine now- really shine, like he’s not going to be able to hold it together much longer. You blink fast, but it’s no use. Yours are welling too.

“Yeah,” Dean says, hoarse. “Me too.”

A breath. A pause. Then he gets in the car and closes the door, shutting out the last of it. Of you.

The Impala pulls away slow, gravel crunching under the tires like bones. And when the red of the taillights finally fades into black, your tears fall. Silently.

That’s the thing about still skies after a storm. They make you think, just for a second, that maybe the worst is behind you.

But the real damage is always quieter than thunder.

˚ ཐི⋆⛧⃝⋆ཋྀ ˚

[everlong0girl]

𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

fluff/slight intimacy

warnings: smooching, touching, age gap(20s/50s), no use of y/n

Joel being a vanilla king

I’ve been thinking about him lately like crazy and i had to write one with sweet game Joel. Idc if its not gonna get much likes, i just miss my cowboy/ !english is not my first language!

A young woman, hurt and scared of the world she grew up in. Never even got to get a taste of the normality of the world before this hell. You came to Jackson about a few months ago. You were given a home and community, people, but never would you dared to hope you’d find something even more than that. Tonight he invited you to dinner, hoping himself that it wouldn’t be just that.

The sun had just set and the last rays went right below the horizon. It was dark.

You sat on the old wooden chair on his porch after you two ate two hearty bowls of stew he made just for you, hoping you’d like his cooking and show he was capable.

Now with the bowls empty, he took his guitar and began strumming some idle tunes before asking. “Got a song in mind?”

You just sat there and looked. Growing up trying mostly to stay alive, there was no time for you to enjoy the simplicity and the beauty of listening to music. Nor did you know many. The last time you heard music while outside Jackson was a few years ago, when you ran into a music shop with someone you were with. You just shrugged and said. “I don’t know much songs..” Your voice soft and kind of embarrassed since he seemed to love music oh so much.

As he began playing some song that first came to mind, you interrupted. “I do know that one song..i think it goes like, The world was on fire..” you sung slightly, trailing off as you didn’t remember the rest, and just hummed some broken notes of what your mind could bring back. That was the song you heard back at the ran down music store a few years back, and it staid with you.

He nodded along as you hummed and he said. “I know that one..it’s a classic, Wicked Game..” his rough southern accent making emphasis on the name of the song as if you’d remember it better.

So he began strumming it, his rough fingers, both from playing and from holding a gun, making soft sound of the song, as a big wave of nostalgia hit you. You said. “You’re really talented with that thing..”

He just smiled, his short beard framing his lips as he hummed along. And he said. “Well..more than twenty years of playin’, it does make you good sweetheart.”

That just reminded you how older he was. But you never minded, since he gave you that feeling of safety and in a way, fatherly sense..but if it was anything more, it’d be weird..right?

Eventually you stood up and picked up the two bowls, wanting to take them inside and wash them. As he asked. “Want to go on inside? It’s gettin’ cold for sure..”

Nodding you went inside first. It was September after all.

He sat down on the couch, his voice could be heard trough the room, as he said. “You don’t have to do that, i can take care of the dishes..”

You said. “You cooked, might as well help out..”

He just continued playing the song as you were in the kitchen washing up what was left, a completely domestic scene.

And eventually you came over and sat down by him. Asking. “Why’d you stop?”

“You don’t want me to?” he simply asked back. As he thought maybe you’d get to talk more now that you were inside. But you just shook your head and said. “You’re too good to stop.” a small smile on your mouth.

As he played some more, you leaned your temple against his shoulder and closed your eyes. Feeling the material of his casual but worn out button up shirt against the skin of your face. And he didn’t dare hope for anything, but he could have sworn he just felt something that had become foreign to him at this point.

You were young, it wasn’t right. He was a sad broken old man and you were oh so kind. But then he stopped. Putting the guitar down against the coffee table and looking at you, silent.

You opened your eyes and looked over, asking. “Whats wrong?” but he only looked at you. He knew if he did something, he might ruin things or he could make them a hundred times better. Or he could say nothing and regret them for the rest of his miserable life. He’s had enough.

His hand went up to your own and took it into his, as he said..”Y’know..i’ve been thinkin’ about sum stuff..”

“What kind of stuff?” you asked.

And he looked at you, and said..”Im gettin’ older..and i don’t wanna ruin anythin’ between us but i just can’t..i can’t stop thinkin’ bout you.”

You just stared. You secretly hoped for something, and yet now that it actually happened, you didn’t know what to do.

He continued. “Im sorry..i don’t know what i’m talkin’ bout..Im tired..” Hating for being so sudden with all this, and breaking a perfectly serene moment.

But you stopped him and said..”No..no no no..what do you mean? Talk to me.”

He just shook his head and said. “Im talkin’ nonsense honey..m’sorry..”

Shaking your head you said. “No..it’s not nonsense..It’s real.” As if trying to convince both him and yourself, still a bit shocked this was actually happening.

His head cocked just to the side to look at you, as if angling it a bit subconsciously. And you tried to say something next, but stopped. His face coming up in yours as you could feel his peppery beard gently against your lips.

He smelled like a sweet mix of musk, wood and sweat. It was the most inviting thing you ever smelled. Until he kissed you. Immediately tasting the skin, and the stew you had eaten maybe twenty minutes or half an hour ago.

But then he pulled away, his back straightening up rigid and you looking and blinking at him, as if unaware of what just happened.

His hand came up over his eyes as he muttered a small curse, and you didn’t see his eyes tear up. And he said. “Jesus Christ..what am i doin’.”

“What are you doing?” You asked back from what he said, continuing. “Are you doing something wrong? No..Let yourself feel it..”

As he knew you kissed him back when he initiated it. Meaning you must at least feel something.

And then he looked at you and said. “Im lovin’ you..thats what i’m doin’..And i can’t cus..i ain’t right for you..” he was a stubborn man. Looking at him, you could see it even if you didn’t know him. But you did. These past few months completely and utterly saved you. Saying. “Please look at me. Tell me you don’t wanna be with me..” You said almost daringly.

And he did. He looked at you straight in the face, but instead of saying anything, he just kissed you again. His slightly dry lips colliding with yours as you melted. Your hands going up to cup his hairy jaw, and kiss him back, as his hands went to your ribs and gently held you. Not holding you in place, or dragging you to him. Just holding you.

Until you pulled away and looked at him, a small string of saliva connecting you still until it snapped. And he said. “I want to. I want you, But I’m so scared dove..”

A big strong man like him admitting he was “scared” was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard in your life. As you just pulled him back in, and slowly you both leaned back on the couch. Your head against the old leather armrest, as he was all up in your space, his beard scratching at your neck as he gently held up your thigh to hook it around his straight waist.

He was flat out against you, as you felt that small about of pudge he had on his belly, reminding you he was human. A simple man who bared his heart to you.

His strong arms holding above you just enough not to suffocate you with his weight.

As you ran your fingers through his hair, the short and slightly messy dark black strands mixed up with white and grayish bending around your hands. You whispered. “I love you, you sweet sweet man..”

And he shot back huskily. “Im sweet when i ought to be baby. Js’ for you..”

One of his hands went down a bit while he gently ground his hips against your jeans, subconsciously and in a way desperately. Just the small contact against your jeans made him let out soft shameless noises. It had been so long since he had this kind of intimacy, and he was now older. Not as virile as he once was back in the day, but still managed to show you he wanted you no matter that.

You heard the soft sounds against your ear, letting out gentle gasps yourself along with hums. Not knowing if you should just let him in now, or wait for some time to just settle into this new relationship of yours.

His fingers going to unbuckle his old leather belt, when you stopped him. You decided. Whispering. “Hey..hey..Calm down, let’s not get ahead of ourselves when we just figured this out..”

“Baby..” was all he muttered. His tone soft and slightly hopeful you’d give in. He’d never do anything against your word and both of you knew that, but he was oh so touch starved.

Not wanting to go too far when you just got together. There was no shame in waiting.

Hearing your silence he just gently sighed into your neck and his hand went up again to brush your hair back blindly. As he said with a soft muffled tone. “Alright..okay..as you say, that’ll be..i’m sure i can wait, i’ve got plenty more left in me honey..”

He slowly let himself fall by you on the couch, smushing you against the backrest of the couch, and him. His arm going around your waist and pulling you close, tangling his legs with yours as his fingers idly went over your ribcage. He said.

“At least stay the night..”

“Stay every night..”

“You asking me to live here?” You asked quietly and in a way jokingly.

He just grunted in agreement and kissed your cheek with a long deep inhale against your skin.

[plainsviemenace]

"I like a lot of things but I definitely do not have a granny kink. I'm not even thirty yet. The most I could go would 35 maybe up to 40 if they were extremely hot but I'm not really into cougars. You're wild enough for me and challenge me sexually." They complimented each other in every way and were finding different things that each enjoyed sexually with each other. "Okay no going bald even though I'm hot enough to rock it. I know you like to pull my hair as much as I enjoy pulling yours. I flew out of the country to get hair plugs since my hairline was starting to recede so you don't have to worry about me ever wanting to be bald. I'll go back whenever I need to in order to keep my hair. " He was a little subconscious about it but he wanted to always be honest with her about everything. "I don't mind salt and pepper hair and think we would be the hottest grey haired couple in the world." Max didn't care what color her hair was, she was still her. He also didn't care if she wanted to get work done or not as she got older, it was her choice. He knew her line of work some people did. He laughed as she said she would leave if he shaved his head knowing she was joking. "I know it is kitten. I don't look at you as some sex object. Sure you're sexy as hell but I love you for your personality, your kindness, your honesty, how smart you are, your crazy sense of humor and for accepting me for me, flaws and all." Sure they had sex on their first date but it had grown to so much more. She was his soulmate and his best friend. "I think about you all the time and ways to show you how much you mean to me." He smiled as she said she was okay with Ricky hitting on Cayla. "One things for sure, he'd treat her right. He's a good guy and he knows I would kill him if he didn't. I love Cayla, she loved me from day one unlike Sarah but I think that's because you talked me up to her." Sarah had been harder to win over but seeing how in love he was with her sister had made her see he was sincere about his feelings. "It would be cool to have one of my best friends as my brother in law. I think George will ask Sarah soon. The more I talk to him the more open he is to it. He's just scared but hell so was I and now I can't wait." He has been so afraid to ask Sabrina, due to his past relationships but she was nothing like them and proved over and over how much she loved him, just like he did for her.

"I think he will love it. It's a love song from his baby girl about how much she loves her daddy and it will be something that he can have forever to listen to. It's a beautiful gesture and seeing you two dancing to it, crying together will a highlight of the wedding for me." Max truly liked her father and knew how much it would mean to him. It was crazy how fast he and Sabrina had fit into each other's family perfectly. When they started dating people couldn't believe it and wondered what she saw in him. Max himself knew she could have anyone she wanted but she chose him. He had told himself that she was going to pick Chris, the safe steady guy and not him. Chris was the perfect prince for the perfect princess and yet she chose Max. A guy that liked few people and few people liked him. Her team probably held their breath when they went to the Met Gala hoping he wouldn't say something to offend anyone but Max had been the perfect gentleman. "I forgot about that and no I want to keep that tradition. I know some thing it's old fashioned but I think seeing you walk towards me and getting to see your dress for the first time makes it even more special. I know you walked towards me in Vegas at our first wedding but this time it'll be you wearing the dress you want, looking how you want, it'll all be planned perfectly to how you want not us doing some drunk fun idea. I love Vegas and won't ever forget it but this is our real wedding and you get to do it your way and so no, I want to hold true to that tradition." He love Long Island more than any other place though LA was home now and he enjoyed being there a lot too. The drive went by fast as he listened to her organize everything and thought to himself how easy it all came to her. His brain would have been fried trying to get all of that done on his own. "You really are amazing, Mrs. Friedman. I'm not sure there's anything you can't do. "His hand squeezed hers lightly as he pulled in their driveway and parked. Kissing her he got out and opened her door for her then walked them to the door and punched in the alarm and door code and opened the door. "What do you want for dinner babe? " He asked as he shut the door and turned on the alarm system again.

Sabrina watched as Max’s face turned into disgust, “oh good. I know your moomoo’s boy so wasn’t sure if that just trailed onto sex your life.” She said teasingly. “But agreed. Nothing older than 40. 50 might not be so bad either.” She had always been into older man, Chris was probably the oldest she had ever slept with. But she definitely flirted with even older in the past. She rose her eyebrow, her gaze going over to his hair as he mentioned going bald. “I mean, I’d still find you hot if you go grey. I think you’d look marvelous with salt and pepper hair. But bald? Not going to happen. I need something to pull on when you’re eating my pussy.” Her hands were always in his hair, whether they were just making out or making love. She loved stroking it and brushing it with her fingers just as much as she liked to tug on it. “People keep talking about you shaving your hair now that you’re part of the Hurt Syndicate and I’m just saying this now, if you do, I’m leaving.” She told him. She wouldn’t actually follow through with that threat. She loved him, and didn’t care what he looked like. His looks wasn’t why she was with him. She was with him for how he made her feel when they were together, how happy she was to be his. Sabrina nodded in agreement, “Our love is more than just sex. We don’t need it to flourish or to show each other how much we love one another.” Their relationship started off with it, but it had grown to be more than just that over the past few months. She loved their slow mornings of cuddling in bed and kissing just as much as she loved making love to him. She laughed as he mentioned Ricky hitting on Cayla. “That’s fine. Maybe she’ll date a wrestler too and we’ll have more in common.” Cayla was easily the sister she didn’t have a lot in common with. But the eldest carpenter daughter was still one of Sabrina’s best friends. She went to Cayla to things she couldn’t go to her other sister’s about. She was the first person that she told about Max. “I agree, I don’t want to be working that day. I’ll sing along to songs but that’s about it. Is it a good idea? I’m worried it won’t be and he won’t like it.” She knew that was a crazy fear. Her dad liked all of her songs, even if he didn’t completely approve of their lyrics. An he would love a new one about him. “I’m glad you’re mine too, baby. I don’t think I could have picked any better.” She mused, leaning up to kiss his cheek. She knew people judged the relationship, and said she could pick better. But he was everything that she had ever imagined in a partner. “It’d have to be after. You can’t see my dress until I’m walking down the aisle.” She reminded him. She knew it wasn’t as much as a tradition anymore. A lot of couples did first looks at weddings and she was still on the fence about it. Once they were at the porch, she leaned against it, and smiled. “We are getting married in Long Island, Mr. Friedman.” She confirmed with a head nod. A year ago, she would have definitely wanted a place like this venue in the city. But now she was falling in love with Long Island and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She had kept her apartment for now, but also was becoming well aware she would have to eventually get rid of it. As he opened up the door she slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. As he drove back home, she called the venue they had picked to confirm all the details that they could confirm in that moment. She gave them her card info so she could reserve the rooms before she hung up the phone. It had felt like a short phone call, but it had taken up most of the drive as Max pulled into their neighborhood. “Alright, we got two dressing rooms, the big ballroom, and then assistants for us. We’ll have to go back closer to try food and cake. Decide if we want a live band or a DJ.” She told max as he pulled up to the house. The big things were decided but now it was time for all the little things that came to make the wedding. 

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

.

[skitskatdacat63]

During the 2020 shut-in era, I basically only listened to Coldplay and god the amnt of emotional nostalgia I get from listening to their music is so

[freakalot]

“satoru gojo if you don’t shut up i am banning you from sex for an entire year.” ☆

satoru frowns against your neck, where he tries hopelessly to stifle his own moans. he’s spooning you in a tangled mess of limbs and bedsheets, almost pathetic in his attempt to restrain himself. he feels like a hormonal teenager all over again.

“you know,” he half-whispers, half-moans into your ear. “i don’t think he’d care all that much if he woke up. i think he’s in love with you actually, i’d probably get to watch nanami kento beg on his knees to join us. ohh i like that idea actually, we should wake him—ah!”

you don’t know how else to quieten him down, so you reach behind you to pinch his side. all it does, really, is make him yelp and drive his cock even deeper into you, which makes you moan in turn.

you and satoru hadn’t had sex in so long, what with missions taking up so much time and the threat of societal collapse being somewhat of a libido-inhibitor. so when your joint mission with nanami ran over, and the higher-ups put you in a shared hotel room, satoru took opportunity as it struck. and you didn’t stop him.

now he’s balls deep inside of you as you lay facing the sculpted back of kento nanami. he’s laying with his back to you, breathing evenly in his sleep—each breath he takes pronounces the muscles of his back beneath the thin grey sleeping shirt he’s wearing. it does more to you than it should.

“you’re so fucking wet,” satoru whispers in your ear as his pace quickens. “what—you like this or something? being fucked five feet from nanami like this? hell, i like it. like showing you off. i'm like... sticking it to the man right now, babe.”

“he’s not even awake,” your eyes roll back as his tip brushes mean against your g-spot. satoru teases you with an open mouthed kiss to your neck, and then nips at the same spot.

"you sure, pretty?" he practically coos. "i think he's fighting for his fucking life right now. he was breathing like a monk until i mentioned him joining us."

you narrow your eyes at the sleeping man on the other bed. he's stilled and silent and obnoxiously toned and you swear you're getting wetter by the second and you also swear gojo can feel it because he's grinning against your shoulder like a fucking lunatic. you're about to brush him off, defend your coworker and friend and tell satoru to hurry up and make you cum so you can sleep when you see it: nanami shifts his hips.

it's so small of a movement that you might have imagined it, but you're too busy imagining how hard he must be to have to readjust like that. what must be going through his mind... listening to the two of you fuck like you're trying to get over something. he's either torturing himself with want right now or drafting up a letter to the higher ups in his head. maybe both.

"he's either awake," satoru reaches down and lifts your leg a little to reach sweet new depths inside of you. "or having the nastiest wet dream of his life."

something churns in your stomach, apprehension if you were a better person, and you part your lips to tell satoru to stop being an ass, but what comes out instead is a breathy moan so desperate it makes both men stiffen.

and nanami exhales. loudly. not in the sleeping man sense, this is choked out and heavy with something you don't dare name.

"oh nanamin," satoru sing-songs. "if you're going to cum in your boxers, come here and do it with a better view."

“satoru—” you hiss, mortified, melting at the same time, “stop—”

divine intervention is the only explanation. you must have some serious karma point stacked up and pocketed for a rainy day because, just as your breath hitches again, kento nanami is sitting up and planting his feet on the floor, eyes set dead on the two of you.

his pyjama pants are tight. when you let your gaze fall from his messy hair to the complete and visible outline of his hard cock, you think your heart stops. this is unseemly, and unprofessional, and everything that could be considered inappropriate. and if kento decides to walk out and complain, you and satoru are fucked, special grade status be damned.

“…you’re both ridiculous,” he says flatly, voice sandpapered. "this is wrong. abhorrent. foul."

he sounds exhausted. morally affronted. except his dick is so hard it must hurt and his eyes haven't once left where satoru's cock disappears inside of you. his gaze is heavy on you like a second set of hands. it's ungodly. you feel blasphemous, like maybe if nanami just looks at you a little longer you'd cum from that alone.

satoru thrusts deeper into you, but speaks to nanami. "you're hard."

"and you're loud." nanami exhales slowly, like he's giving himself a full ten-count to resist the urge to murder or run or maybe both. then he stands, finally meets your eyes, and softens his gaze a little. "you want this?"

your body answers for you, hips rolling back and pushing yourself deeper on satoru's cock. your thigh trembles where gojo holds it up and your voice comes out breathless and wrecked. "yes."

satoru groans, of course, and makes a show of squeezing one of your boobs in his hand. nanami doesn’t even look at him. doesn’t need to. his attention is all on you now, laser-focused and reverent like you’re a fucking sacrament. he reaches for your jaw, guiding your face up until your lips part just from the force of his presence.

“good,” he murmurs. “because i’m going to fuck you, both of you, until i can think straight again—and if i have to hear your voice even once during it, satoru, i will be gagging you."

your heart-eyed boyfriend cums inside of you at the implication alone.

and that is how you end up on your hands and knees in a twin hotel room in the dead hours of the night. kento nanami fucks his cum back inside of you for the second time that night, fingers digging so tightly into the fat of your ass that you don't doubt satoru will be teasings the marks left behind for days to come.

you splay your fingers over your boyfriends thighs, which is the only touch he's been granted since cumming inside of you. you stare up at him, he's got lidded eyes and this desperate look on his face as he watches nanami fuck you from behind, each thrust pushing your face just that little bit closer to his painfully hard cock.

though he can't complain, not with nanami's tie rolled up and stuck between his teeth. he tries, though, guttural moans and half-discernible pleads for more can hardly be heard over the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

you don't know why you never thought of satoru as a cuck. oddly, he's the type. still, that pretty look of desperation on his face is enough to have you squeezing around nanami's fat cock.

"settle down, gojo," nanami chides, squeezing your ass as if your boyfriend could feel it. "you're taking me next."

[fallenbratfiction]

Devoted - bucky barnes x f!reader

Husband! Bucky Barnes can’t take his eyes or his hands off of you. He has to make the biggest effort around the kids, and honestly, it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of.

A/N: Growing up with parents who you've never seen kissing, hugging, or saying "love you" to each other, yeah, it does something to you. I recommend you listen to like real people do while reading.

warnings: domestic fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, bucky being a dream husband, vulnerable talk, parental PDA and kids being grossed out (but funny), so so so wholesome.

masterlist faq

minors dni with this story or blog. you're responsible for what you do. do not copy, translate or claim this story as your own.

Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed (and cried) writing this!

You grew up in a house where love was... quiet. If it was there at all, it never spoke. No kisses over coffee. No lingering glances. No hands held on road trips. “I love you” was said with the same flat tone as “dinner’s ready.” It taught you that love was restraint. Conditional. Measured.

No one yelled, but no one kissed. No one fought, but no one held hands. “I love you” was something you overheard in movies — not around the dinner table.

You grew up unsure if your parents loved each other, or just… merely existed beside one another. Tolerated each other. Did they love each other? You still don’t know. Maybe they didn’t, and maybe that’s what scared you the most.

Because it made you wonder if that was all love ever was.

And then you met Bucky Barnes.

And he rewrote everything.

When Bucky Barnes came into your life, it felt like getting hit with sunlight after decades in the dark.

He's unapologetically soft for you. Hands always reaching—brushing your hair back, pulling you close, squeezing your hip as he walks by. Your kids are so over it.

“Do you have to do that now?” your oldest groans as Bucky kisses your cheek in the middle of the grocery store. “Yes,” he answers simply. “Your mom’s hot.” You roll your eyes, but your cheeks warm. Every single time.

It’s the little things Bucky does that undo you.

Like when you're driving the kids to school, and he insists on holding your hand — even when you're the one behind the wheel. His fingers slide between yours easily, resting on your thigh, warm and grounding. His thumb draws lazy circles against your skin as you maneuver turns, one hand on the wheel, one hand in his.

“You know this is wildly impractical,” you tease, eyes flicking over to him.

He grins, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, voice low and smug. “Don’t care. I gotta hold my girl.” “Can you not be in love for five minutes?” your son groans.

You and Bucky just laugh. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles like some old-timey gentleman who also happens to be a menace. And still doesn’t let go.

Bucky, who hugs you from behind while you’re cooking and whispers in your ear like a menace "Skip dinner, let’s order in and make out on the couch."

Your daughter and son groan loudly from the couch, “OH MY GOD.” “I’m gonna pour bleach in my eyes!” Bucky laughs, holding you tighter with his metal arm snug around your waist, “Love you too, buddy.”

He kisses you while you're folding laundry. He dances with you in the kitchen just because the song is good. Tells you he loves you like it’s as natural as breathing — because for him, it is.

And yeah, sometimes he says dumb things like,

"Bucky, why is the car so hot?" He throws you a wink. “Cause you got in it.” A chorus of “Daaaaaad!” erupts from the backseat.

“Oh my god.” Your son gags. “I’m gonna be ill.” Bucky glances at them through the mirror, unfazed. “Good. Builds immunity.”

But under all the dramatics, they smile when they think you’re not looking. They giggle when he slow dances with you in the kitchen, or calls you doll like it’s sacred. They see it. They know it’s real. They know it’s safe.

You didn’t grow up with love like this — but you’re raising them with it. And that matters.

That night, after the kids are asleep and the house is finally quiet, you curl up beside him on the bed, wearing one of his old shirts and nothing else. The air is warm and soft-lit, and you’re sunk so deep into the quiet you almost don’t want to break it.

But you do.

“Can I tell you something kind of dumb?” you murmur.

“Doll, you could talk nonsense for hours and I’d still nod along like it’s gospel.”

You laugh, but it fades. “Sometimes I still wait for it to stop.”

He tilts his head, confused. “Stop?”

You bite your lip. “I grew up thinking love didn't exist or wasn't meant to be shown. That it had to be quiet. Conditional. Measured. So sometimes I still catch myself waiting for the moment it… ends. That you leave. That it all disappears.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and touches your cheek like he’s holding something fragile and precious. Because he is.

“Doll… whoever taught you that love had to be small, they were so wrong. I need to love you like this. Big. Loud. Always. I need to hold your hand while we’re driving and kiss your neck while you're stirring the pasta.” He swallows hard. “I want to love you in a way you never have to question. Ever.”

Tears prick your eyes, and he pulls you into his lap, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, and your mouth.

You kiss him like you’re trying to press every word you haven’t said yet into his mouth. And he lets you—hands on your waist, grounding you, holding you like he’s scared you might vanish if he lets go.

When you finally pull back, just far enough to breathe, he’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the damn sky.

“I think about it a lot,” he says softly, voice rough, “how lucky I got.”

You blink, heart thudding. “Bucky…”

“No, listen.” He brushes your hair back, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “After everything I’ve seen—everything I’ve done—I didn’t think I’d get this. I thought my story ended in blood and silence. And then there you were. Warm, loud, bossy as hell—loving me without flinching.”

You shake your head, tears building. “You don’t have to thank me—”

“I do.” His voice breaks. “I have to thank you every damn day. For seeing me when I couldn’t. For staying when it was hard. For giving me this life. The kids. You. All of it.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just kiss him again, slow and deep, a promise pressed into skin.

And as his hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer, you think— Yeah. You got lucky too.

You pull back eventually, breathless, heart full. And then you rise to your feet.

He looks up, dazed. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

You smirk, already halfway to the hallway. “Gotta make sure the door’s locked,” you call over your shoulder. “We don’t want to traumatize them.”

Bucky groans, laughing, throwing himself back against the pillows. “You’re killin’ me.”

“And I’ll bring you back to life, Barnes.” You wink, hovering over him, straddling his waist as his hands slide up, thumbs rubbing slow, hiking closer to the hem of your shirt.

You smirk, leaning over him, ready to take your place on top — but before you can, his hands slide around your waist. In one smooth motion, he flips you over, pinning you gently beneath him.

“Not so fast, doll,” he murmurs, grinning as he settles between your legs. “You always think you’re in charge.”

You arch a brow, breath hitching. “And you love it.”

He laughs under his breath, eyes dark and soft all at once. He leans down, brushing your hair back to kiss your neck — slow and deep, with a bite that makes you shiver.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

You exhale a laugh, heart skipping. “You always wanna take care of me.”

He smiles against your skin, lips trailing lower, worship in every movement.

“Damn right I do.”

Because loving you isn’t a duty. It’s instinct. It’s devotion.

I am a mix of emotions! 🥹💕😫🤧 I really enjoyed writing husband! Bucky and I will definitely do it again!

I hope you enjoyed reading this, feel free to leave your opinion!

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged as they help this story grow! ✨✨✨

[hplonesomeart]

Old record player spin my beloved <3

[peachylynnie]

you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo) contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing. a/n: UPDATED WITH CALEB AS OF 2/1/25 i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated. lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

caleb

What you heard? (What you heard?) But it's never what you think, trust

it's impossible to surprise caleb.

he always knows what you're up to.

whether you're just waking up from a heavenly two-hour nap or going out to get your hands on the latest edition of your favorite blind box series, he's always there.

last time you tried to cook yourself a meal (ever since you started dating, he hasn't let you lift a finger), he came home early and snatched the spatula away from you, insisting that you sit down and look pretty for him while he makes his signature braised wings.

you're not sure how he does it. maybe he has a secret camera or a tracker installed (ha). though, you don't have any complaints. you think it's fucking hot how he's never away from you.

even so, you've been wanting to surprise him for a while now. blame it on your desire to fluster him as much as he flusters you. you're going to surprise him AT LEAST once in your lifetime.

which explains why you're in an apron right now, with absolutely nothing underneath.

to be honest, you were hoping to surprise him with homemade apple pie since he's always cooking for you. but again, you want to fluster him. thus the apron, a long piece of denim fabric wrapped tightly around your waist and hung dangerously low at your chest. you can't deny how delectable you appeared when you looked in the mirror, admiring your exposed arms, legs, back, and neck—anything that would drive the esteemed colonel insane. you felt jittery just thinking about the look he would have on his face when he walked in through the door of your shared home.

however, your joy is short-lived when your phone rings while you slice up some apples in the kitchen.

"what's with the apron, pipsqueak?"

you put the knife down with a sigh. "do you have a camera installed in here or what?"

caleb chuckles into the phone. "wouldn't you like to know?"

"i would like to know so i can turn the damn thing off and actually surprise you for once, dipshit," you retort playfully as you adjust your phone between your ear and shoulder, picking up the knife to continue chopping. you suppose you should still make the pie since you already got the ingredients out.

"aw," he mocks, his voice dripping with arousal. "did my little pipsqueak dress up just for me?"

"yes," you snap, rolling your eyes. "but this little pipsqueak is about to change since you ruined her surprise."

your threat does little to faze caleb, as evidenced by his endearing laughter.

"don't be upset, pips," he teases into the phone. before you can scoff at his audacity to tell you not to be upset, your ears catch the hurried footsteps in the background of the call. it doesn't take long for you to hope your boyfriend is on his way home—on his way to you. sure enough, his next words cause heat to pool between your bare legs.

"keep the apron on. i'll be home soon."

after he hangs up, you put your phone down with a giggle, eager for what's to unfold once he arrives. however, you still can't help but wonder if he actually has a camera installed because how the fuck does he always know what you're up to? you frown as you turn your head left and right. you don't see any red flashing lights in places that could provide him an optimal view. nope. nothing in the corners of the ceilings and nothing in the walls either. before you can convince yourself your boyfriend is somehow omniscient, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

his dog tag. seems like he forgot to put it on after putting on his uniform. you pocket it, hoping to give it to him when he gets home.

but your mind is truly one of a kind. as caleb likes to put it, resourceful during the most critical moments.

because when he's balls deep inside of you, coaxing your second orgasm out of you, you get the bright idea to fish your shaky fingers into the pocket of your bunched-up apron and put. it. on.

caleb's eyes widen upon seeing his dog tag on you. there it was, the important item he forgot this morning, resting between the delicious valley of your breasts, bouncing up and down while jingling an enticing melody.

"fuck—pipsqueak, you—" he thrusts harshly, pistoning into your sopping heat. you throw your head back at the sensation, allowing him an even better view of his chain, mingling with the beads of sweat on your collarbone. shit, he's so turned on right now. not only were your swollen, sweet lips adorning his name, but so was your pretty little neck. it filled the young colonel with pride. and enough vigor to bring you to your third release, as evidenced by the endless slamming of his hips and the clenching of your thighs.

"good girl," he helps you through your high before letting go of your waist, hoping to give you a break. "i'll go get a towel. stay here."

but when your pilot of a lover goes to leave, you wrap your legs around him and pull him to you, causing him to collide with you. caleb hisses at the contact, sensitive more than ever.

"don't push it, pipsqueak," he warns as he plants both of his arms on the kitchen counter, caging you in. "you need to rest."

"i don't think so, colonel," you prop yourself on your elbows, meeting his eyes boldly. "i don't think so at all."

caleb swears he feels his mechanical arm short-circuit because what you do next is just fucking tantalizing.

you pinch his dog tag and bring it to your mouth.

his breathing quickens substantially when your teeth take the shiny piece of metal as their prisoner. it's not long before his dog tag is trapped between your seductive canines and your thighs are tightened around his waist.

with a shameless smile, you jut your chin towards the man, signaling to him to make his move.

caleb growls, seizing the chain with both hands and bringing you to his face.

"i warned you, pips."

extra (in honor of his official installment)

as you munch on some apple pie in caleb's embrace on the couch, you can't help but ask.

"how did you know about the apron but not the dog tag?"

your boyfriend sniffs before answering, a little bit of pie still in his mouth.

"i couldn't check the cameras on the way home."

"oh that makes sense."

"…"

"wait, what?!"

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright) Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his. 

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?” 

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far. 

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good. 

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble. 

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body. 

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck. 

oh. 

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck. 

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?" 

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding. 

"anything for my beloved bride." 

zayne

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

[sparrowwithaquill]

Pls do Saja Boys x Popstar!Reader. The popstar could be a Sabrina Carpenter type! Thank you!

You got it my friend 😘 I’ve been simping HARD for the Saja boys ever since the trailers and movie came out.

Saja Boys x F!Reader; otherwise called reader is nervous at all the attention from a group of hot guys.

I tried to make it as ambiguous as possible as to what the reader looks like, the only thing that’s set is that the reader has at least hair on their head 😅

Summary: Coming back from your world tour, you expect to rest for a bit before going back to performing. What you didn't expect was gaining the attention of five super attractive men that just can't seem to leave you alone.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I might make a continuation of this with some nsfw bits for each member, let me know if that’s something y’all would be interested in

Tags: @floredaqueen

Getting back to your home from your tours has always been a highlight that you treasure, especially from how exhausting performing is. Still, there is nothing that you would change about your life. Currently, you just got home and cleaned yourself up and decided that going for a walk would be nice. The city is beautiful and getting some fresh air would do you some good.

That's how you now find yourself roaming the street in the market section of the city as you people watch. Occasionally, watching some of the birds as they're flying. One bird grabs your attention from the others though in the way it seems to be watching with... purpose, eventually landing on a sign that is nearby where you were standing.

Normally it wouldn't really be something that you pay attention to, despite you liking birds, but something about this particular bird just gets your attention.

The bird must have thought the same as it stays on the sign despite you getting closer.

"Well, you have some interesting patterns, don't you little guy?" You say to yourself as the bird just watched you, something flickers in your peripheral, but before you can turn to see it, the bird lets out a chirp bringing your attention back to it.

“Hm? Guess you don’t like being ignored, understandable, you’re a very handsome bird,” you smile at the bird before turning to leave, slightly waving to it as you continue to walk around, oblivious to the eyes that follow your form as you leave.

Some time passes before you decide to go back to your home, using the time to listen to some of the songs on your next album to feel out if they're up to your standards.

Days pass with you enjoying your short break and taking the time to slowly get back into your routine of dancing and singing practice. You had just finished your latest practice session when you decide to go back to town to get some groceries, maybe try out that new recipe you've been meaning to indulge in. You’re walking in the direction of the store you most frequent when you see the same bird, a smile coming across your face as you slightly wave to it again.

“Hello my little friend! Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” you smile until a cough sounds from behind you.

You quickly turn face going red at being caught talking to a bird of all things, before it lands on an incredibly handsome stranger who has a small smile on his face. One that also shows he definitely saw you talking to a bird.

“You always talk to birds, or did I just get lucky to see it?” He says with a small smirk on his face.

“I- uh, no not,” you clear your throat trying to will the heat from your face to die down, “I try not to make it a habit,” you stammer out eventually calming down enough to meet his gaze.

His very handsome gaze that is, the heat slowly returns to your face while your eyes dart around.

You eventually get your bearings, clearing out your throat as you look at him eyes quickly flicking across him, really getting a look at him before finally retorting.

“Do you always watch girls when you’re out or did I just get lucky?” A small smile unintentionally making its way to your face before you quickly choke it down with an eyebrow raise, seeing a near drop dead gorgeous man definitely isn’t something you’ll complain about, but still a man is a man no matter how hot.

The stranger just lets out a low chuckle before stepping a little closer to you, eyeing the bird before it flies off to seemingly nowhere.

“Not really, only the pretty ones,” he says, hands in his pockets of his jeans while he looks you up and down. Before you get the chance to stammer out a reply, four other equally just as gorgeous men come around to him before one of them, the one with a shirt that is clearly hanging on for dear life, claps him on the shoulder.

“Yo, Jinu, we’re waiting for you man- woah,” the man who you would definitely say could call you any time looks at you with a look of recognition, one that you try to shake your head as fast as you can without looking insane.

“So you have a name! Love that for you, sorry for being weird- you guys have fun with whatever you were doing!” You quickly make your way out of there with a hand covering your face to shield it from their eyes as you could practically feel steam coming off it.

The one who recognized you still has wide eyes as he realizes that yeah you are that one definitely famous singer and oh my gosh he can't believe that you ran into them. He quickly clues in the other men who are just confused at both of your reactions, the news making Jinu smile as he starts to think maybe he was right to send his little bird to watch you.

“Oh my gosh I looked like an idiot, a complete moron in front of five hot guys. Ugh girl you need to get your shit together,” you mutter to yourself as you continue walking towards a clearing where some people are talking about a boy group performing there.

You pull your sunglasses on and pull up your jacket a bit to avoid being recognized as you stand in front of a gathering crowd as some music starts. To your shock and horror, the same men that you’d bumped into are performing and singing.

“Oh my gosh I’m so dead, I have to die of embarrassment now, no I need to leave the country,” your muttering is interrupted as you make eye contact with who you now know as Jinu as he winks at you, your face erupting into heat as you pull the strings of your jacket to cover your face. Meanwhile the women and men behind you scream as they think it’s for them.

The action causes the Saja Boys to smile wider as they notice you hiding your face. They continue with their song, you still listening and your shoulders unintentionally bouncing up and down to the music. They notice with glee, their song ending as they send out finger hearts to the crowd watching your reaction as you try to look anywhere but their faces.

They finish their song, officially making their debut as they seemingly disappear into thin air. This gives you the chance to finally go to the store and get all the things you need for your dinner. You're heading back to your home when you hear someone call out to you, you are turning with fear that it's a crazy fan. Instead, you hesitantly turn around to see that it is instead the five hot guys with handsome smiles on their faces. Maybe the fan would have been better, you think as your grip tightens on the groceries in your hands.

The one with long pink hair in the shape of a heart is the first one to greet you as he waves with a large grin on his face.

"You saw our show, right? Did you enjoy it? My name is Romance,” He smiles at you, the action has you lowering your shoulders a bit at his smile. He's pretty friendly, still devastatingly attractive though.

"Uh, yeah I did! It was really good, you were really good!"

You smile back a bit shy, eyes darting between the five men as their eyes zero in on you. The action causing you to get a bit bashful at the cropped shirt that leaves your stomach and cleavage slightly exposed. The men barely try their best to avoid being obvious at their shameless staring, but let their eyes wander a bit.

Jinu is the next one to speak, offering a hand as he speaks.

"Did you now? You need any help with those groceries; we'd be more than happy to help you~" He purrs out, a wolfish grin taking over his face as your face heats up at the look he gives you. Curse you for your dry spell, just looking at these guys is enough to bring some heat to you.

"No! No I'm- I'm fine really and I don't want to stop you guys from whatever you're up to," you let out as the one with mint hair has no shame in smirking at your bashfulness as you make eye contact with him. Who you later learn is Mystery, silently makes his way around you as you slightly back away from the hungry looks they give you. Your back hits his chest as you look up, you making a surprised sound to see him. He has a slight smile on his face at the look of shock on your own.

"We're not too busy, especially not when we could help a gorgeous woman out~" The one with the ill-fitting shirt says tilting himself down a bit to stare directly into your eyes, as he smirks at your nervous expression.

"No really! I wouldn't want to impose," you let out with a small laugh making your way into the direction of your house. They let you back away looking at you with a gaze that screams they would eat you up if given the chance.

A week passes by from the interaction you had, the memory playing in your head like a broken record. The memory is still playing during your practice in your dance studio as you hear voices passing by. You're in the middle of a break as your backup dancers are casually speaking to each other while you leave the room to grab more water and a sports drink. You're at the vending machine when you can physically feel eyes on you, you turn your head a bit to see the most muscular member of their group behind you.

He looks you up and down before letting a coy smile make its way to his face as he leans against the wall across the vending machine. You whip your head around, face getting heated up as you can feel it creeping to your ears.

"So, how's practice going for you?" You hear his deep voice close to you as you turn around a bit and see him now down to your ear, you let out a sound that could be comparable to unholy as you realize just how close he was. Immediately, you start stammering as you try to put some distance between you.

"It's- um, you're so close, it's going," you clear your throat as he just smirks at you, "It's um good; it's going good we were just going on our break for the next hour, rest a bit y'know? Hehe how's uh how's your practice going? What's your name by the way, never uh never got it..."

God, you have been out of the game for so long, can you speak to even one person normally?

He raises his eyebrows, not really expecting you to give a response, but gives a small smile, "names Abby, guess we never really introduced ourselves, huh?"

Your shoulders lower themselves at his response, a small smile gracing your features as you finally make eye contact.

"No, you really didn't, so new group, right? Your performance was really good, really catchy too!"

You smile at him before reaching to grab your drink from the machine, having forgotten about it, but Abby beats you to it, reaching down and grabbing the drink before holding it out to you. You grab it, but he holds it a bit tighter before letting go, his hand brushing yours.

"Well, if you get bored during your break feel free to come watch us practice in room four, I'm sure the guys would love to see you," Abby waves at you as he leaves.

You're left at the vending machine, heart thundering at the brief contact as you watch his back leave before he turns the corner to go back to their dance studio. You are so about to make a mistake going to see them, is all that you think as you're returning to your own room.

After getting back to your room, your dancers and you disperse to do your own thing for the next hour. With some thinking, you decide fuck it and head down to where Abby said they were practicing. You can hear music playing as you look through the door and see them taking a break and make eye contact with Abby who smiles before going to the door to let you in.

"So, you decided to join us?” Abby leans on the door covering your body form view as the other guys in the room wonder who he’s talking to.

“Yeah, figured why not not everyday you can watch a hot new group in their element,” you chirp out before realizing what you said.

“Sorry not hot! I mean you are hot, but I didn’t mean that hot I meant hot as in really popular!” You wince at Abby holding in his laugh as he leads you into the room.

As you enter the room, all their eyes fall on you and your hit with the feeling that you’ve walked into the lions den.

“Welcome princess, didn’t realize we’d have a guest or else I’d have cleaned up,” Jinu says as he looks your form up and down. He’s wearing a loose shirt and grey sweatpants that does nothing to hide his physique.

The other guys in the room all have looks of hunger at your outfit, still breathing heavily from their practice. The one with lilac hair covering his eyes is the second to approach you as he offers you some water.

“Figure you’d want water, I’m Mystery,” he quietly says before going to sit on the floor one leg propped out as he continues to catch his breath.

You’re holding the water to your chest when Abby leads you to where the speaker is, now turned off since they’re taking a momentary break. They sneak glances at you while you sit a little awkwardly just listening to them chat.

Eventually, Jinu calls them back to practice. They start with Soda Pop, as they dance your shoulders bop along to the music while they pour their attention to you making your face flush from the looks they give you.

"Cause I need you to need me," Jinu points at you and smirks, you look away before turning your attention back.

"I'm empty, you feed me," Romance licks him lips while looking you up and down.

"So refreshing," Abby winks at you while pulling his shirt a bit to expose his chest.

"My little Soda Pop," Baby turns towards you and gives you a sultry look before continuing with the dance.

They dance through the chorus while their attention remains on your form, you feel slightly exposed and flush a bit at all their gazes. They finish their dance, and you clap for them, "nice! You guys are good!"

Abby is the first one to approach you, leaning down breathing heavily as he cages you between his arms.

"Any notes you could give us, any suggestions," He asks lowly, voice slightly raspy. You swallow the spit in your mouth as you hold eye contact with him, stammering a bit.

Romance is the next to approach you going to your right side and leaning down a bit to your ear.

"Any pointers you could give us? Any moves you could show us?" He breathes in your ear, his hair tickling the side of your face. You start to breathe a bit heavier at the attention they give you, you lick your lips as they feel impossibly dry.

The action only grabs Abby's attention. He leans in closer so close he was only a hair away from your mouth and lets out a breath as he smirks.

"You nervous?"

You silently nod, leaning back the slightest bit as your back hits the mirrored wall of the studio leaving you trapped between the two men.

"Use your words, princess," Romance chides you from your right as your eyes dart to him. Breath leaving you at his words and your face heats before you stutter out a yes.

Abby takes some mercy on you and eases up on the barely there space and backs away leaving you to Romance as he gets a drink.

These boys are going to kill you.

Romance soon leaves the teasing as he goes off to get his own drink and talk with the other guys, you finally are able to grab a full breath, and your face finally calms down.

You bid goodbye to the boys as you go back to your own studio, mind reeling at the attention and proximity of the boys. These men are much too attractive to be doing this to you.

God help you, your heart can hardly take this.

[vasito-de-leche]

I love, LOVE your characterization of the Saja Boys, and while I know you’ve only written complete dating hcs for Baby and Abs, I was hoping if it was okay if I could request something with the Saja Boys (separately) where it follows the prompt “you're about to argue but you're so pretty that his brain short circuits”? If you don’t want to write for all of them, then maybe you could do Baby and Abs (separately)?

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS SAJA BOYS - "Too Pretty"

Saja Boys (separate) x Reader 2.5k words silly, fluff Being a demon's soft spot has its benefits. Who would've thought?

i'm so glad you like the way I write them!! this prompt sounded so fun, I just had to try my hand at it, thank you!

this also served as a way for me to slowly figure out how I'd like to characterize the other members o7 I tried to keep the relationship vague enough to be read as whatever people want, so hope that comes across well enough. also also, dont let these dramatic edgy idols fool you, all drabbles end up being silly and cute

JINU

"Are you even listening, Jinu?"

He is, of course. But he'd rather not, especially when you're getting worked up over nothing; so much for escaping an endless cycle of torture in the underworld, he now has to deal with a brand new mess, pacing behind him like a madman. By now, you've probably noticed the monotonous and non-committal answers he's been giving on loop.

"Uh-huh," Jinu's eyes never stray from the notebook in front of him, attempting to come up with a better verse for an upcoming song. And he knows he's fucked up when he hears you groan, stomping towards him.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I stopped listening abooout ... five or ten minutes ago, who's counting, but--"

Your hand comes into view, fast as lighting, and he can only look as you snatch the notebook away from him. Great, awesome.

There goes the perfect verse in his head. He remains frozen for a moment, the hand holding a pen still hovering over the now empty spot on his desk until your voice reaches him once more.

"If you're not going to listen, at least tell me so I don't waste my time talking to you."

Jinu slouches in his seat, raising both hands to cover his face, before sliding them upwards to slick back his hair in a feeble attempt at regaining his composure. You can't even see him from this angle, his back turned to you, but he still rolls his eyes.

You want to argue? Get it out of your system? Fine, he can give you the fight you want.

In one swift motion, his position changes; now he's straddling the chair, a powerplay he's come to master after bickering with his own band for so long, eyes closed as he prepares to deliver a devastating comeback to rile you up. But when he looks up, the golden glow in his eyes wavers--you're standing so close in front of him, looking down at his seated form with your arms crossed, as if daring him to speak.

He doesn't, and you tilt forwards, hair cascading over him so that the only thing he can focus is your face in this one-sided glaring contest.

Jinu has seen you at your best and your worst, but this is the first time he's found himself at the other end of your undivided attention and anger. It is as intimidating as it is alluring. What are you doing to him? Is this allowed? His neck feels hot, his face feels hot. The room feels like it's on fire, but not the same type of hellfire he's grown used to; it's a different sort of warmth, equal parts shame and pleasure as he takes in the sight. His lips part without him noticing, whispering ever so gently.

"Pretty ..."

"What was that?" Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Shitty. I said you look. Shitty. As in, you look like shit. Being angry isn't doing you any favors, you know? You should get some rest, okay. Byeee."

Without giving you any time to react, Jinu fumbles over his words, trips over your furniture and he stumbles out of your apartment in a rush, almost breaking into a sprint for the elevator. It's only when the doors close that he allows himself to breathe in and out, finally noticing the extra passenger inside with him. His bird companion chirps smugly, and Jinu groans into his palms.

"I don't want to talk about it."

ROMANCE

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Romance scoffs at your words, still refusing to leave his room. All the heart shaped decorations seem to mock him as he leans his full weight against the door, easily preventing you from entering no matter how hard you try to rattle the doorknob.

Both of you find yourself at the edge of an argument, and the decision to escalate things lies solely on his hands. He knows this because he can practically hear the affection in your words, even as you whine and tell him to get over himself to talk to you, face to face. That alone is enough to make Romance's chest tighten--no matter how many times he does this, this game of push and pull, you still make sure to chase after him time and time again.

Surely you must be reaching your breaking point; nobody is strong enough to withstand this much heartbreak. Maybe if he tries a little harder, you'll realize that there's nothing good in a future with him.

All he has to do is stay silent and wait for you to leave.

"Then what did you mean?" His voice is whiny, it always is. But you always insist that you love that about him, the way he feels so deeply about everything.

"You really want to argue about something like this?" You're right, you usually are--he's making things difficult when he's not even officially yours. "Well, I don't. So you can call me once you've cooled off."

And just like that, it's quiet; there's no more pressure pushing against him from the other side of the door, no more cutesy nicknames and attempts at coercing him out. Romance's heart drops, and he practically claws his way out, torn between cursing you out for proving him right and leaving, or begging you to take him back and sort everything out as if he hadn't been the one to start this. He's taken only a single step out of the threshold of his sanctuary when your smile greets him--you're leaning casually against the door frame, pretending to inspect your nails.

"So, are you done brooding all by yourself, handsome?"

That playful grin renders Romance speechless; the contrast of your casual attitude against his frenzied panic is impossible to ignore, he's gone through all five stages of grief in under a minute while your trust in him never wavered. Absence truly makes the heart grow fonder because there's a glint in your eyes that tugs at his heartstrings, wild strands of hair that he'd love to twirl in his fingers and kiss ever so gently. Romance knows that you'll let him if he asks for permission, and a knot forms in his throat, face flushed bright pink.

"No." It's all he manages to squeak out before closing the door once more.

"Rommie! Are you mad at me or not?!"

"I don't??? Know??? I need a moment! Just stay there!"

ABBY

"That's the last time I take you anywhere. You can't just pick a fight like that, Abby!" Abby sinks even deeper into the plush cushions of the couch as you continue to scold him, as if his sulking and his silence could single-handedly help him win this argument.

He's already found himself a comfortable spot, but you're still fussing about the living room, throwing your shoes to the side, sending your jacket flying onto the backrest of the sofa, pausing to drink and slamming the glass on the counter a little harder than necessary. Abby knows better than to try and stop you, so he stays put, waiting for his opening.

"What if anyone saw? Did you even think about that? The amount of trouble you'd be in?"

Those are all very good questions that he never bothered to consider; in fact, he still refuses to think about the consequences. There's no point in doing so when you managed to pull him away before he could do any damage to anyone, or to his own reputation as an idol.

"Like they'd even care," Abby huffs, trying to blow a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Just catching a glimpse of us outside is enough to make everyone turn a blind eye, it's almost too easy to work the crowd. One flex of these guns and any broken noses will be totally forgotten."

He makes an attempt to flex said guns, but he finds you looming over him from behind the couch, your grasp on his wrists as steady as death. There is a wild look in your expression, one he can't quite understand, but he finds it impossible to tear his eyes away from you. Getting to play the part of guard dog for you comes as easy as breathing, Abby can't get enough of the little tells that give you away, letting him know that you enjoy his antics--but it never crossed his mind that the tables could be reversed like this.

"Fine, let me put it this way! What if you got in trouble or worse, what if you got hurt? Ever thought of that one? Just because you're an all mighty demon doesn't mean you're--"

"You're hot when you're mad." He blurts out.

"I--What?"

A chance to rectify his mistake is presented to him, and he immediately pivots away from it when you blink your pretty eyes at him in confusion. "I said that you're hot when you're--"

"I heard you the first time, Abby. It's just--were you listening to what I was saying?" Okay, this is his chance to steer the conversation back on track. It's very easy, he just has to--

"If I say no, will you scold me some more?"

"Oh my God. Abby. Nevermind."

MYSTERY

Arguing with you is a rare occurrence.

But so is speaking to you, or engaging in any sort of conversation at all with anyone. This is one of the many perks that came with his role as the cool, mysterious and aloof member of the Saja Boys; anything he didn't feel like addressing could be easily swept under the rug and left ignored for centuries. This had been Mystery's modus operandi for years, and he wasn't planning on changing it any time soon.

You, on the other hand, were the opposite, filling the silence he often sought so desperately, until your voice became background noise in his life, a constant, confusing and somewhat comforting presence that simply followed him around.

Mystery still remembers the first time he deigned himself to reply, something off-handed that didn't matter at all, and yet you clung to his every word and went the extra mile to include him in your one-sided talks. It took a long time for the demon to get used to this, and an even longer time to acknowledge the fact that he enjoys the sound of your laughter, way better than the miserable voices crawling in the back of his mind.

Which is why the claustrophobic and oppressive silence lingering in the room irks him to no end. You're supposed to be talking, not playing hard to get or ignoring him over a stupid argument; the way you brush past him, barely acknowledging his existence as you go about your day is getting under his skin in ways he never knew were possible.

And then, for a fleeting second, you meet his gaze--this moment lasts for an eternity in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to seize the opportunity and break the ice, but before he can get a single word out, you turn around and begin to scroll through your phone. That's the last straw.

Mystery stands up and forces himself into your peripheral, hands firmly planted on the wall, trapping you in.

For the first time in forever, he wants to scream, to bark, to growl and give you a piece of his mind. But when he sees the way you awkwardly avoid his gaze, fiddling with your hands and standing at your tiptoes, Mystery relents and his frustration is replaced with something else; endearment. You're still wearing his merch, one of the very first shirts the Saja Boys released long ago with his name written on it, you're still attempting to hide from him despite knowing there's nowhere in the world you could go without him finding you.

Slowly, Mystery raises a hand towards you, enjoying your half-hearted attempt at shaking him off, pretending to bite the air near him.

And then he pinches your nose. "Cute."

After that, he leaves. You'll come around when you feel like it.

BABY

"You went too far this time, there was no need to get so personal back there."

"That's the entire point of dissing someone, duh. So, was it good? Did you like it?" Baby kicks his feet, hands cupping his cheeks to make himself look as innocent as possible. "I didn't know I could rhyme that many words with 'cunt' but it was soooo fun! Right, right?"

"Baby!"

Tsk. Guess it's the hard way today. That cute expression quickly turns into a scowl and he makes a bee-line for the fridge, if only to find something to drink and distract himself with.

He blows bubbles into the silly straw, sulking in the kitchen. "What? They got what they deserved. What kind of idiot would challenge me to a rap battle if they can't take the heat? Hellooooo, it's Baby Saja we're talking about."

"But it was a friendly thing, you turned it into a massacre for no reason."

"Heh," he knows he shouldn't, but he snickers to himself anyway. "Guess I did, huh? What, do you wanna have a go in their place?"

This is how Baby likes to play, to earn a reaction and entertain himself if only for a little--but you always know better than to play into his shenanigans. And you also know how to get a message through his thick skull, something that continues to astonish him to this day.

Baby continues to sip away on his drink as you busy yourself, fully believing himself to be the victor of this round. But dread starts to make its presence known deep in his chest as he sees you slowly gathering your things--this isn't how things usually go, you always stay the night at his place to keep him company, watching horrible romcoms, eating snacks and falling asleep at 5 a.m.

So why were you leaving?

"Hey, hey. Woaaah! Are you really going to ditch me because I got a little mean to some rando? That's so unfair." The look you give him is enough for his act to crumble, and Baby groans dramatically before hurrying to your side, tugging onto the hem of your sleeves. "Stay here! Pleeeeeeaase? I'll behave next time!"

It doesn't work; you pinch his cheeks and pull, stretching them like mochi. Your voice is stern, even after you let go. "You're old enough to know that what you have to say is 'sorry,' Baby. But if you want to beg for forgiveness, you'll have to try a little harder than that."

Shit. So much for being unfair, the tone of your voice and that look in your eye are more than enough to get all the thoughts in his mind twisted up--Baby hates when you don't indulge him, but even he has to admit that he loves that stubborn streak in you.

"What? Cat got your tongue? I know you well enough by now, there's no way you have nothing to say."

You never waver, meeting his eyes with the same intensity, running a hand through your hair. Baby's mouth turns into a fine line, followed by a pout. If he says anything right now, he'll most likely end up digging his own grave. You look SUPER hot right now, is that good enough to make up and get you to stay? Something like that would most likely earn him the silent treatment for a week.

"Sssssssorry ..."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it--"

"...for being soooo damn good at my job. Like it's my fault?"

"I'll see you tomorrow Baby."

"Aw, c'mon!"

[harrysfolklore]

i see your face in every crowd - op81

summary: the asutralian grand prix is right around the corner and oscar's face is everywhere in melbourne, his ex girlfriend can't help but miss him (he misses her too)

folkie radio: if you know me you know i'm a sucker for an exes to lovers trope, and honestly this one is one of my faves i've ever done. ENJOY AND LEAVE FEEDBACK

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by oliviarodrigo, lando and 2,107,399 others

yourinstagram back home for a bit... needed some time to reset & breathe. been writing loads lately - the songs are just pouring out 🌊 feeling more inspired than ever tbh. can't wait to share what i've been working on with u all soon. huge thank u for all the love lately, means more than u know xx

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username1 BABYYYY

username2 i'm happy she's home and surrounded by love

sabrinacarpenter miss ur face already 😭 these songs are about to end lives fr

chappellroan THEYRE NOT READY FOR WHAT'S COMING!!! also pls come back to LA soon i'm dying without u

username3 chappellynbrina is a forever thing

username4 the way melbourne gp is gonna be so awkward next month...

└ username1 why does everyone have to make everything about that 🙄 let them live

└ username2 no fr like can we focus on the music instead

username5 oscar ain't shit anyway, ur so much better without him queen

└ username3 y'all don't even know what happened, stop being toxic

└ username6 they literally both asked for privacy can u respect that maybe

alexandrasaintmleux being home suits u sm! can't wait for the new era

└ username2 once a wag always a wag

username7 THE BREAKUP ALBUM IS COMING AND IM HERE FOR IT

username8 take all the time u need but also pls drop a song soon we're starving 😩

lando yooo text me when you get the chance !

└ username1 THEIR FRIENDSHIP LIVES

└username2 oscar piastri you can't break this one

username9 some of y'all are being so mean for no reason, they were cute together and now they're not, it happens

username10 manifesting a collab with sabrina on this album 🕯️

liked by lando, alex_albon and 467,958 others

oscarpiastri Last few days of prep before heading home for the season opener. Ready 💪

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username1 THATS MY BABY GOAT

username2 we're so taking that wdc this year

lando looking a bit weak mate might need another few months of training

└ oscarpiastri stick to gaming mate

└ carlossainz55 Children, behave 😂

└ username1 THIS INTERACTION

username3 we're so back. man's entering his thirst trap era and we love to see it

└ username1 healing through gym pics, real

username4 the transformation from rookie to absolute unit we love to see it

username5 melbourne's gonna go crazy for him

└ username2 the city will be pretty much covered with his face

username7 the post-breakup glow >>>>>>

username8 bro said watch me get faster AND hotter

username9 yn is stronger than me bc i definitely would've given him another chance

georgerussell63 Looking strong 💪🏼

└ lando but still slower than me

└ oscarpiastri We'll see about that mate

└ username3 WHAT IS LANDO'S PROBLEM

aussiegp Our hometown hero getting ready to give us a show 🇦🇺

username10 YN GET BACK WITH HIM I BEGGG

liked by shortandbrina, livbedumb and 119 others

definitelynotyn not me stalking his instagram at 2am with a glass of rosé in hand... why he gotta post gym pics looking like THAT 😭 someone take my phone away fr because what if i do something stupid like text him rn???? also why does he have to look so good while training I HATE HIM

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shortandbrina girl DELETE instagram rn i'm not joking!! calling u in 2 mins

└ definitelynotyn too late i already watched his story 3 times help

midwestprincess this is why we don't drink wine alone bestie... coming over with ice cream and we're watching mean girls

└ definitelynotyn pls hurry before i do something stupid like listen to our playlist

livbedumb first rule of breakups: BLOCK THE GYM PROGRESS POSTS!!!! trust me on this one

└ definitelynotyn but what if i just want to check if he's doing okay 🥲

└ gracieeeeee she's lost it completely someone intervene

arithegood not me literally writing a song about this exact situation last week 💀 wine drunk stalking is universal bestie

└ definitelynotyn pls send me the song i just know it'll hurt so good

phoebenotbuffay okay but like... we've all been there 😭 remember when i almost texted #him after he decided to walk around in those short shorts

└ definitelynotyn at least urs wasn't wearing race suits that make his arms look like THAT

whostaylorswiftanyway time to write a song about it bestie x

└ definitelynotyn already got three verses and a bridge done ngl

liked by username1, username2 and 6,974 others

f1updates Melbourne is getting ready for the Australian GP! The city is covered in @/oscarpiastri billboards and posters as they prepare to welcome their home hero

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username1 imagine being yn trying to get coffee and boom there's your ex's face on a 50ft billboard 💀

username2 the way you literally can't escape his face anywhere in the cbd this week

username3 the way this gp would've been so different if they were still together... remember last year?

└ username1 they were the cutest in the paddock

└ username2 pls she probably won't even be in melbourne this year

username4 our boy is everywhere and we love to see it!!

username5 the promotional team really said oscar piastri world domination

username6 the billboards are giving everything they need to give tbh

username7 maybe she should drop the breakup album during race week for maximum chaos

└ username1 now that would be iconic behavior

└ username3 the way the charts and the podium would be fighting for his attention

username8 MELBOURNE IS OSCARLAND

username9 imagine not being an oscar fan rn… or worse, being his ex

username10 CAN SOMEBODY THINK OF OUR GIRL YN

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liked by lando, charles_leclerc and 597,388 others

oscarpiastri Seems like there's a few of me around Melbourne at the moment... has anyone noticed? 😅

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username1 OSCAR FUCKING PIASTRI

username2 HE DID NOT

lando bit of an upgrade for the city tbh └ oscarpiastri Better than your face mate

username3 OH HE'S MESSY FOR THIS ONE

└ username1 posting this RIGHT after her story i'm screaming

username4 he chose violence today and i'm here for it

mclaren Our guy's everywhere! Can't wait for the weekend 🧡

└ username2 admin pretending they don't see what's happening here

username5 THE TIMING OF THIS POST??? someone's feeling petty

username6 he really said "oh you can't escape me? let me show you why" 💀

georgerussell63 Just ran into your face in the airport

username7 the way he probably had these pics ready and WAITED

username8 bro saw her story and chose chaos

danielricciardo looking good mate! although i remember when it was my face everywhere 👴 └ oscarpiastri Times change old man

username9 it's giving "oh you miss seeing me? here's more" energy actually

username10 focusing on the important stuff: he looks good in every single billboard

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liked by harrystyles, sabrinacarpenter and 1,389,647 others

yourinstagram missing tour life so much today! can't wait to get back on the road and see all your beautiful faces again 💕 thankful for the memories we've made together x

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username1 MY GIRL I MISS HER

username2 the way she posted this exactly after THAT story... we see you

└ username3 damage control era

troyesivan SUPERSTAR 🤩🤩

username4 girl we know what (who) you're really missing

└ username2 not her trying to distract us 😭

username5 we're not fooled bestie but we support you

sabrinacarpenter miss you too angel!! ❤️

└ yourinstagram love you sabs 🥺

username6 NOT THE DAMAGE CONTROL POST

username7 WE NEED A TOUR ASAP

gracieabrams I miss being on the road with you 🥹🥹

username8 EVERYONE TALKIG ABOUT OSCAR HELP

username9 can we talk about how good she looked on tour though??

username10 the way she's probably sitting with sabrina rn planning damage control posts

└ username11 the group chat must be WILD right now

liked by midwestprincess, livbedumb and 109 others

definitelynotyn well. something just came in the mail and i think i might actually throw up. universe really said "you thought that instagram story wasn't enough embarrassment for one day?"

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shortnbrina GIRL CHECK YOUR TEXTS RN

└ definitelynotyn I'M HAVING A CRISIS

midwestprincess the way i SPRINTED here when you texted

└ definitelynotyn help what do i do

└ midwestprincess BREATHE FIRST

gracieeee wait is that what i think it is? 🏁

└ definitelynotyn 🙃🙃🙃

└ gracieeee OH MY GOD????

livbedumb the timing… someone's been plotting

└ definitelynotyn don't. i can't think about that.

maddiebeer okay but like… are you going?

└ definitelynotyn MADS PLS I'M ALREADY SPIRALING

└ maddiebeer that's not a no 👀

arithegood manifesting a rain delay so you have to stay longer

└ definitelynotyn I HAVEN'T EVEN DECIDED IF I'M GOING

└ arithegood sure jan

phoebenotbuffay imagine if you'd actually posted this on main too

└ definitelynotyn DON'T EVEN JOKE ABOUT THAT

└ phoebenotbuffay too soon? 😂

dulapeep at least you have time to plan outfits

└ definitelynotyn NOT HELPING

└ dulapeep the green dress. trust me.

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liked by lando, charles_leclerc and 665,583 others

oscarpiastri Close. Bring on tomorrow

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username1 THATS MY BABY GOAT

username2 oscar piastri man of few words

username3 pole position if he was still with yn

mclaren Our home champ 🧡

username4 OKAY CHAT DO WE THINK YN WILL ATTEND THE RACE??

└ username1 maybe focus on racing?? this isn't about his ex

lando sorry about that

└ oscarpiastri Should've just let me keep it

username5 can't help but think about yn in parc fermé for his win tomorrow but they're not together anymore

username6 HES WINNING TOMORROW THERE'S NOTHING THAT CAN CHANGE THAT

charles_leclerc An existential crisis later

└ carlossainz55 Let him breathe

└ username1 HUUUH WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT

username7 brb listening to yn's songs about him.. specially lover

liked by midwestprincess, shortandbrina and 107 others

definitelynotyn watching from my couch because apparently i'm the biggest coward in the universe. the pass is literally staring at me from my coffee table. i hate myself.

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shortnbrina GET IN YOUR CAR RIGHT NOW

└ definitelynotyn I CAN'T

└ shortnbrina YES YOU CAN I'M CALLING YOU AN UBER

midwestprincess GIRL THERE'S STILL 40 LAPS YOU CAN LITERALLY MAKE IT

└ definitelynotyn and then what?? walk in mid-race??

└ midwestprincess YES EXACTLY LIKE A MAIN CHARACTER WOULD

livbedumb not you watching his every move on tv when you could be there

└ definitelynotyn this is less scary ok

└ livbedumb is it though??

maddiebeer remember when you said you'd never be that girl who's too scared to face her feelings?

└ definitelynotyn low blow mads

whostaylorswiftanyway THE PASS IS RIGHT THERE GO GET YOUR MAN

└ definitelynotyn STOP YELLING AT ME

└ whostaylorswiftanyway NO

gracieeee remember when you said his note was the sweetest thing ever? remember crying about how much you missed him? but sure stay on your couch

└ definitelynotyn this is emotional manipulation

definitelynotyn FINE YALL WIN. CALLING A CAR RN

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liked by shortnbrina, landitooooo and 113 others

definitelynotyn we did some talking. then we did some kissing. then we did some more talking. then we did some more kissing. might have cried a bit (him too). wearing his sweatshirt again. life's funny sometimes.

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midwestprincess OH GOD FINALLY

gracieeee I'M SOBBING

leclercccccc FINALLY you accepted the follow request

└ definitelynotyn oh my god

└ leclercccccc i helped with the speech you know

└ notoscarpiastri mate.

└ leclercccccc you're welcome btw

landitooooo took you both long enough bloody hell

└ notoscarpiastri says you

└ landitooooo oi what's that supposed to mean

└ shortnbrina no idea really

└ definitelynotyn lando norris and sabrina carpenter... there's stuff you need to explain

arithegood THE TIMELINE HAS BEEN RESTORED

└ definitelynotyn dramatic much

└ arithegood says the girl who showed up mid-race

whostaylorswiftanyway I expect a full debrief tomorrow but I'm happy for you my girl

notoscarpiastri Can we go back to the kissing?

└ definitelynotyn please

liked by username1, username2 and 8,594 others

popbuzz YN AND OSCAR PIASTRI SPOTTED TOGETHER IN MELBOURNE

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username1 THE SWEATSHIRT THE SWEATSHIRT THE SWEATSHIRT

└ username2 SHE'S WEARING HIS CLOTHES AGAIN

username3 FROM SPINNING OUT TO BREAKFAST DATES IN 24 HOURS

└ username2 character development at its finest

username4 IM GOING TO CRY THEY'RE BACK TOGETHER

username5 Sources say he went to her place last night...

└ username1 and didn't leave 👀

username6 I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY REALLY GOT BACK TOGETHER

username7 this is proof that crying over your ex on main actually works

username8 YN IS A WAG AGAIN OMFG

username9 everybody say thank you australia gp billboards with oscar's face

username10 OSCAR LOVE SONGS ARE SO BACK

username11 WE WON SO HARD

liked by yourinstagram, lando and 876,494 others

oscarpiastri Home race took some unexpected turns both on and off track. P9 wasn't the result we wanted, but somehow still ended up winning this weekend.

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username1 HE'S SOOOO

username2 LOST THE RACE BUT GOT THE GIRL??

lando mate that's actually smooth

└ oscarpiastri Learned from the best

mclaren We'll take this kind of victory too 🧡

username3 THE THIRD PICTURE IM SOBBING

username4 mans really said forget p9 i got the girl

username5 HE'S SO BOYFRIEND WE'RE SO BACK

nicolepiastri ❤️

username6 OSCAR PIASTRI THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

username7 oscar's guide to get back with your ex with just ten simple steps

sabrinacarpenter FINALLY !!! OUR GIRL CAN STOP MOPING AROUND

└ chappellroan now we need oscar's friend to grow some balls too

└ oscarpiastri @/lando

└ lando well...

└ username1 OMFG LANDO AND SABRINA??

└ username2 WHAT JUST HAPPENED

username8 I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS REAL LIFE

yourinstagram 🥺🥺 i love you