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kisses4reid · 3 days ago

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scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 4)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you return to work, and a sudden revelation changes everything.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r was with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy is the main theme, blood, menstrual cycle, crying, inaccuracies because i have never been pregnant/ever thought i could be pregnant, uneducated reference to abortion: 'stick something up there',

w/c - 2.1k

a/n - last part. im sorry for the long wait and the subpar writing, i lost motiviation for this series and wasnt as into the story as i was before. BUT! i kept going for you guys. thank you <3 if anyone catches my hamilton reference youre my best friend

You hadn’t shown up to work for the week, taking the precious sick leave you had been hoarding and spending it all on arguing and throwing things into cardboard boxes. Not your stuff, but Lloyd's. And Spencer had spent those days pulling at his hair, tapping his fingers on his desk, and watching the automatic glass doors of the bullpen open just to find somebody else.

To everyone else’s knowledge, you simply had a bad stomach bug, but to Spencer it was much more. His stress was just a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate if one more person asks him how you were. Because he didn’t know. Not only were you physically absent from Spencer’s life, but virtually as well. No texts, calls, online likes or tags. It made him think the of the worst possibilities.

That’s where he was now, sat at his desk, finger tapping, leg bouncing, eyes darting from glass doors to blank phone, before he grabbed his phone and started to Hotchner’s office. His steps echoed in the early morning office sepace, patting his sweaty hands down his pants. But he didn’t make it very far before he heard Garcia’s familiar squeal, and your own genuine giggle.

Six days had been the longest you went without seeing Spencer, let alone your entire group, since you got the job. But you couldn’t put such a burden on these people, especially not the one who had seen you break down in his own apartment. To you, this was something you needed to figure out slowly and alone. Alone. Thank god, you were single now.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, just a flu?” Garcia asked, slipping one of her arms into yours and walking you to your desk.

“Stomach bug.” You smiled, patting her hand and sitting down at your desk. You looked at all of your trinkets and photos, happy to see that you never actually put a couple photo on your desk, and happy to see a photo of your team all together instead.

Spencer spun on his heel and widened his eyes, a breath escaping him in relief.

“Y/n.”

You looked up and stared at the man, the bags under his eyes deepened and the creases between his brows appearing like scars.

“Spence, hey.” You smiled as Garcia took his hurried steps as her queue to leave.

“How are you-“

“He’s gone. Sorry you cut you off.” Your hands started fidgeting, you looked askance. Spencer’s eyes betrayed him in his shock, thankfully his lips didn’t betray him in his happiness.

“Oh. That’s great.” Spencer nodded and had to shake the sudden urge to grab your hands and squeeze them. He could feel the possibilities in his fingertips by the second, but he couldn’t lose sight of the bigger issue here. “Are you gonna work a case with us? Are you feeling… better?” He asked with full care in his warm brown eyes.

“Yeah, I’m better. I mean, I’m not great yet but I’m better. Still thinking about things.”

He nodded, but before he could ask anything more, the rest of the team emerged from the elevators.

“Eden Lim, missing for 9 hours after her mother left the front door open to let in fresh air. Power outage in the neighbourhood took out all the air conditionings. Neighbours are either elderly couples or other families.” JJ handed out manila folders and picked up the remote to the Tv screen, showing a photo of a sweet little girl with her mother in a slightly professional set up. Aaron nodded and started, “Wheels up in thirty, JJ organise a meeting with their sheriff and investigators.”

On the plane, you were surprised to say the least. You found out you were pregnant by a sudden sickness, and now, you felt fine. Even though you didn’t get plane sick often, you expected at least a little nausea or maybe a headache. But honestly? You felt fine. Maybe you were a superwoman, one of the rare lucky mothers that don’t get sick often.

That’s what starts to distract you, the thought of the future. You didn’t know anything about pregnancy, let alone parenting. The last time you babysat was for Emily’s cat. Your hands started sweating and you bit the inside of your lip to attempt a suppression of nerves, but you obviously weren’t slick enough.

Hotch sends a glance your way, “You okay, Y/n?”

You smile softly, “Yeah, just the plane is kinda waking up my stomach.”

He nodded, seemingly accepting of that answer, and you gave yourself a mental fist bump.

You try to refocus on the case, but another factor is making this specific one harder.

Eden.

The top name on your baby name list since you were 16, the one you sort of planned to use without much second thought. The one who belongs to a missing child.

A young man who had just lost his son stole Eden, took her to his house, and treated her well. He was a father who had suffered loss, and took from someone else in the same way so that he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

Something about that felt slightly relatable. If Lloyd knew how you were feeling, maybe he would understand the weight on your shoulders.

You walked with Spencer to your desk, the aura around you both feeling like it was going back to normal, just with another layer on top. The secret kept between you two, a bigger one than any of the others. You flicked your small, dark green scarf over your shoulder, the difference in temperature from the case hitting you harder than usual.

Spencer slipped his satchel over his shoulder and sent you a smile. You felt a spin in your stomach because of the sight, and looked down to hide your face discreetly. You heard a small clear of the throat and then Spencer’s voice,

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Every time the victims name was mentioned, you sniffled, you rubbed your arm, or took a harder breath. Why is that?”

You widened your eyes, nearly laughing at the question. You had no idea Spencer was paying that much attention to you. Honestly, you thought he was going out of his way to avoid you to lower the chances of the team getting suspicious.

“Oh, it’s just uh. Eden has been on my baby name list since I was a teenager.”

Spencer’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his mouth opened as he nodded. His heart broke a little more. And he realised this was the first time you two were having a conversation since the night you stayed at his apartment. Not only was it making it real for you, it was making it real for him. Although, he had already vowed to himself that he would help you out with anything you needed, he doubted his mental capacity to take care of a baby made from the women he loves and a man he despises.

You both started walking to the elevator, always the last two in the office before Hotch, and you subconsciously stayed close to him. A pang hit your lower stomach that you pushed down.

“How are you doing, physically and mentally?” Spencer pushed the button with the down arrow, and looked down at you. His hair was slightly ruffled, his tie askew, but his eyes were how they always were when they looked at you, full. Full of care, of adoration, of worry, of knowing. Full of… something that could ruin both of you if he made the wrong decisions.

You took a breath and had to tear your gaze off of his, “Well, like I said, I broke up with Lloyd. He didn’t want to be a father, and when I told him I didn’t know what to do with the… baby, he said… he said… he told me to ‘stick something up there’ if I couldn’t afford another way.”

Spencer felt a rush of rage wash over him, his cheeks reddening and his hands fidgeting harder by the second. How could he?

“Basically, the opposite of how you reacted,” you laughed but it didn’t last long.

“Y/n… why haven’t you told me about him before? I didn’t even know you had been talking to guys until you were already dating one of them. If you told me about him I could’ve… I don’t know.”

“Open my eyes?” You smile sadly, and nod. “If I told you about him, and about how he acted… it was kind of like complaining about a sapling to an oak tree. Complaining about a page to a library. Complaining about a dickhead to…” You shook your head, “I felt embarrassed. And, I want you to think highly of me. But I guess after all of this, I can’t really help it anymore.”

Spencer stopped you in front of the elevator and took your hands, he looked at you with concern, and a bit of anger.

“Y/n I don’t hate you, or think any lesser of you just because you’re… pregnant, or because you were with a bad guy. I think that, while it’s true I think Lloyd is a terrible guy and I don’t see a lot of logic in staying with him, it was your own decision. I’ll always respect that.” He glanced down to his hand holding yours and let go of it.

Your eyes widened, panic shot across your face.

“Y/n?” The elevator doors opened.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You turned and ran to the toilet, hearing Spencer’s steps behind yours a moment later. He called your name, asked you if you felt sick, and it made him feel guilty for making you stress in a time like this.

He hadn’t fully processed that you weren’t just his best friend, his love, but his pregnant best friend.

You pushed on the ladies bathroom door hard and darted for a toilet stall. There is no way I’m peeing my pants in front of Spencer Reid.

You closed the stall, and soon heard Spencer enter the bathroom with no hesitation to the fact it was a women’s room. “Do you need to hold your hair up?”

And even though the offer played with your heart, you quickly denied him, “No, Spencer, I’m not sick. I just needed to…”

You wiped, and suddenly you felt dizzy. Red.

Red?

“Blood…” you whispered to yourself. "Oh my... god."

“Blood!? Y/n, should you go to the hospital?” He stood closer to the door as his heart rate picked up.

You stood up, pulled up your pants and opened the door. Spencer nearly fell into you.

You screwed your eyebrows together in confusion, and all at once a million feelings hit you. Hatred, sadness, depression, heart break, hope, denial, acceptance… relief. You looked down, unable to look at Spencer as your heart quickened, and covered your mouth with your shaking hand.

“Spencer, I’m on my period.”

His big eyes searched yours, looking down and over your face and body and it was like watching him piece a puzzle together. “You’re not…”

You shook your head, and a wave of relief hit you all at once, tears hitting you like a tsunami, your arms wrapping around Spencer’s shoulders like unforgiving ropes. He stilled for a moment, before reciprocating the tight embrace, a breath of air leaving him in the contact. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripping at your work shirt causing wrinkles to appear between his fingers. His large palm warmed your back in soothing strokes before they laid tightly around your ribcage. Honestly, hugging you was a big thing he had been thinking about in your absense - they were always genuine.

You let go and smiled at Spencer widely, the first one you gave him genuinely in too long a time. Spencer placed a hand on your cheek and wiped a tear gently, smiling back at you.

“Oh, Spencer, I’m so… sorry.”

He stopped in his tracks and widened his eyes, “Why?”

“I made you worry for so long-“

“Hey, a false positive is not your fault. You had a less than 1 percent chance of getting one so it’s no wonder it didn’t cross your mind. My mind, as well.” His heart swelled as you two looked into each others eyes. Happy, relieved, suddenly aware of how close you two were to each other.

Spencer dropped his hand, and looked down with a cough. “I’m happy for you, Y/n.”

You nodded with a shy smile, and turned to look back at the toilet, “Well, I’m gonna… you know… take care of this and then… do you wanna get a drink? I need to... I need somewhere that's not my apartment to think about this.”

He blushed slightly, realising where he was, and picked up his satchel, “Yes, of course. Do you want to go to mine? We can pick up drinks on the way?”

"That would be amazing, thank you Spence." "Anything for you."

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner @yokaimoon @flow33didontsmoke @reidswifeyyyyyy @kitsunetori @yasmin12312 @softestqueeen @adoresami @hazza3000 @lov3-audz @issy25 @pleasantwitchgarden @upuntil6am

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds hurt/comfort #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

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yuikomorii · 1 day ago

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AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 2

// It’s time for the second chapter! This one focuses more on the conversations with other characters than on Ayayui interactions, but I’m really curious to see if anyone can guess who the second Diaboy to meet Yui will be. 👀

This story isn’t meant to be a harem or anything like that though, but all the Diaboys will meet Yui at some point. I hope you enjoy this chapter until the next one! 💖

Chapter 1

Place: Dorms

Ayato: Good night.

Laito: Nighty night~!

— Ayato enters his room —

Laito: ( Hmm… he seems unusually quiet. He hasn’t said a single word the entire way, which is so unlike him. )

( It’s as if something’s weighing on his mind, that he’s deliberately keeping to himself. )

( Something must have surely happened to him when he went outside, but why won’t he say anything? That’s weird… )

— stretches and yawns —

Anyway, there’s no point in overthinking it. As long as it doesn’t damage his and our reputation, it’s not worth worrying about.

Place: Ayato’s room

Ayato: ( Phew, I managed to slip into my bed without waking Shu up. )

( The last thing I needed was a lecture about sneaking off to the club as an idol and nearly getting caught. )

( Haa… what a mess. I really made a fool of myself today, didn’t I? )

( If it weren’t for that girl, I’d probably be in the hospital right now, all over the news for alcohol poisoning. )

( Man, that would’ve totally wrecked my career… )

???: Heh, where have you been?

Ayato: …!

( Was that—)

O-Oi, you’re not sleeping!?

Shu: I was until a certain someone tripped over the WI-FI cable and woke me up.

Ayato: ( Fuck! )

Shu: But whatever, I answered your question, so now it’s your turn to answer mine.

— opens one eye and looks at him —

Ayato: ( Wait… I could just make something up and play it off as the truth! )

( Heh, exactly! There’s no way he’d be able to tell it’s a lie! )

Just practicing. I want to be the best version of myself for the next concert, y’know?

Shu: Hmm… I see.

And now, what’s the real answer?

Ayato: …!?

( How did he— )

Hah? W-What do you mean? I’m telling the truth!

— Shu opens both eyes and looks at him —

Shu: You went there, didn’t you?

Ayato: …!

( This guy… he can see through me! )

How the hell did you know that I went to the night club!?

Shu: Heh~? So I was right after all. You really did go there, huh?

Ayato: ( You… You fucking tricked me! )

Look, I know I’m not the best at keeping things together, but don’t tell Reiji! I beg you!

If the leader finds out, the staff will know, and once the CEO hears, I’m done! He’ll fire me in a heartbeat, no questions asked!

Shu: You’re overreacting. No idol is gonna get fired for just going to a night club.

Ayato: Man, you just don’t get it! It’s not just about going there— it’s what went down while I was there!

Shu: Oh? Now you’ve got me curious. What exactly happened?

— starts piping —

Ayato: ( Why do I keep getting myself in this!? )

( Haa… but I guess there’s no point in running away from my issues anymore. )

Basically, I was very tired and thought of over drinking to get my mind think of something else, but the alcohol and exhaustion made a really bad combination, so my chest started aching.

I went outside to get some air, but the pain just kept getting worse until this random chick found me and gave me her water bottle.

Shu: Wait… so you got caught?

Ayato: Luckily, no! As crazy as this sounds, she didn’t recognize me.

Heck, she even asked for my name after I called her a cab! But of course, I’m not that dumb. I knew it would have been way too risky to tell her my name.

( Honestly, I don’t even know why I was so anxious about it. In the end, everything worked out just fine, and I bet that girl will forget all about it in a few hours anyway. )

Shu: Hmm… you do realize that might have merely been an act, don’t you?

Ayato: Huh? What do you mean…?

Shu: Women are sly as foxes.

They’ll play all innocent and clueless, behaving like they have no idea what’s going on, but in reality, they’re just getting exactly what they want without anyone even realizing it.

Heh, it’s almost impressive how they pull it off.

Ayato: Wait… so you mean that girl knew who I was and only pretended not to so as to stalk me? But if that’s the case, then——

Shu: Haa… no need to scream, it’s almost 3 in the morning.

I’m not saying she’s a stalker, but you should probably be more cautious.

You know how fangirls are. If they see you talking to any girl that’s not them, they’ll lose it. Better to just watch out and avoid any unnecessary trouble.

— closes eyes again —

Not just for you, but for everyone else around too.

Ayato’s monologue

Shu’s right. I need to step up my game and start taking this job more seriously.

Being an idol isn’t just a paycheck; it’s a responsibility that goes far beyond me.

Every choice I make carries weight, and not just for my future, but for the company’s and everyone I work with.

Yeah… Exactly. If I let my career fall apart, it’s not only me who’ll feel it— the whole team, every project, and all the hard work we’ve put into this place will take a hit as well.

That’s why, from now on, I’m done making stupid decisions that could mess everything up. My focus is on my idol activities and nothing else.

I should have realized from the moment I signed the contract that living like a normal teenager just isn’t part of the deal anymore.

*Timeskip*

Place: Hotel kitchen

Yui: ( Working here is surprisingly relaxing. Not only that, but the co-workers I met seem very nice too! )

( I’m really excited to put my cooking skills to good use. From what I remember, this hotel has a great reputation, therefore it’s truly amazing to learn from such experienced professionals. )

???: Noooo!!!

Yui: …!?

( It’s coming from the storeroom! )

— quickly opens it —

???: ….!

Yui: Hana-san!

I-I heard you scream, are you alright?

Hana: Wa—… Was I really that loud? This is so embarrassing… I’m so sorry!

— covers face with hands —

Yui: Ah, there’s no need to worry about that, it’s fine.

More importantly, what happened? Did something scare you?

Hana: No, I’m not scared, more like… disappointed.

In case you haven’t heard already, the SAKAMAKIS are filming a special episode for their YouTube channel at three different locations, and guess what? My two favorite members are coming to this hotel in 4 days, but the issue is... it’s happening right when I’m not on shift…!

— starts crying —

On top of that, I promised my sister I’d visit her in Fukuoka, since we'll both be off work at the same time, which means that there’s absolutely no way I can meet them now!

This is such terrible timing…!

Yui: ( SAKAMAKIS… Based on Hana-san’s intense reaction, they must be some sort of important public figures, no? )

Oww… it does sound unfortunate, but you shouldn’t give up hope completely. After all, you live in Japan, so I’m sure there’s always a chance you’ll get to meet them!

Hana: It’s not as easy as you say…

They will return to Korea soon, and who knows when they’ll promote in Japan again? This was my only opportunity to see them outside of the concerts… and I couldn’t even manage to get any decent seats there.

— pouts —

Yui: ( Wait, did she say ‘concerts’? )

Ohh, I see. So they’re idols!

Hana: Eh? You… You actually don’t know the SAKAMAKIS—!?

Yui: W-Well… I’m sorry, the name doesn't really ring a bell, and to be honest, I can’t say I’m familiar with the idol world in general.

Hana: But come on, you must have at least seen their faces before, right?

— shows her a picture of them —

Yui: ( Will she be let down again if I say ‘no’? )

( Hmm… But truth be told, these boys are undeniably good-looking, and it’s clear that they must be hardworking as well, considering how they manage to juggle such hectic schedules. )

( I can easily see why they’ve captured the hearts of such passionate fans. )

— eyes suddenly widen —

( The red-haired one——! )

— blushes —

Hana: So, who did steal Yui-san’s heart~?

Yui: Ah, n-nobody…!

— gets embarrassed —

It’s just that the boy in middle… he got an incredibly well-featured face. I don’t know how to put it into words, but he simply appears unreal.

( To think that a human could look like this… it makes me a bit envious. His eyes and face shape are especially pretty. )

— Hana starts laughing —

Yui: ( Eh? Did I say something wrong? )

Hana: Get in line, that’s Ayato-san!

Hmph… just the thought of not being able to see his tiny, perfect face up close makes my heart ache.

Yui: ( Hana-san… she really seems to love this group a lot. )

( I can't help but think that if I were in her shoes, I'd feel hurt too not being able to see someone I admire so much… )

Hey, Hana-san… I know it’s not exactly the same as having it personally from him, but if it’s possible, I’d be more than willing to ask Ayato-san for an autograph on your behalf!

Hana: Eh—? Would you really do that for me!?

Yui-san, you are the best!

— hugs her —

Yui: I-It’s nothing, really.

Hana: Wait a little—! Now that I think about it, you could also totally grab a photo with them! Isn’t that wonderful?

( I can’t believe it! This way I’ll be just one person away from Ayato-san! )

Yui: Uuh… I’m sure it’d be a nice memory to look back on, but wouldn’t it bother you if I did? After all, you’ve been their loyal fan all this time, not me.

Besides, there’s no guarantee that they would agree to take a picture with an ordinary person such as myself.

Hana: That doesn’t matter, silly! They’re super chill with their fans, and everyone says they never turn down a picture request— unless they’re busy, of course. There’s no way they’d refuse you, especially not in a setting like this.

You also mentioned being captivated by Ayato-san’s visuals, so fan or not, I think anyone would jump at the chance to take a picture with such a fine man~!

Yui’s monologue

Hana-san and I continued to talk about it for a while, and during our conversation, she suggested a few of their songs for me to listen to on my way back to the Airbnb.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but as I played each one, I was pleasantly surprised.

While I’m still not very knowledgeable about this group, the melodies, the lyrics, and even the energy in their performances were captivating in a way I hadn’t expected.

That Ayato boy… he seems like someone who was born to be on stage. Such charisma and beauty… It really makes me wonder how he acts off-cameras.

Hana-san has clearly supported the SAKAMAKIS for such a long time, and to finally get the chance to meet them, only to have it slip through her fingers, must be heartbreaking.

A part of me can’t shake the feeling of guilt, even though I know very well that it wasn’t my or anyone’s fault.

It might not be a fair comparison, I know, but it reminded me of the boy I met yesterday.

He has probably forgotten about me already, but just like Hana-san dreams of meeting her idols, I find myself wishing to meet him again.

Author’s note:

* In case you're wondering why Ayato is sharing a room with Shu and not Laito, many companies assign roommates to idols randomly. The idea is that idols are supposed to get along with everyone, so the arrangement is made to promote harmony and teamwork, regardless of personal preferences.

#diabolik lovers #yui komori #ayato sakamaki #dialovers #ayato x yui #ayayui #admin #my fanfic

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newtonsheffield · 1 day ago

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Stay strong, Molly! 💪🏼 We are all cheering on you. You've got this!

Have you already signed the contract at your new work?

Also, will you be able to take some time off before you leave? Or even sick leave... I know that it'd be best to part ways amicably, but if they don't treat you with respect you deserve, why should you be obliged to do them the courtesy?

I’ve signed all the paperwork, I’m just waiting to start.

The hilarious thing is Gossip Girl finally came to speak to me yesterday at 4:30pm. An entire eight hours after we started work together for the day. Said in a very monotone

“Sorry to hear. Now, we need to focus on what you’re going to tell patients.”

I have built an extremely loyal patient base. Their major concern is my patients not returning to the practice. My patients can’t legally follow me as I’ll be working for the government and government dental isn’t available for everyone in Australia.

I shattered their illusion that this is part of a depressive episode though and had no job to go to though and then she announced my leaving date as 12 days earlier than I had said it would be in my resignation. So basically… they want to fuck me over and not pay me ✌🏻 I might have to go for six weeks without pay. I am waiting for a response to find out if that’s a typo on their behalf.

I was then begrudgingly handed a gift for my seven year anniversary (happened on the fifth of January though they got the date wrong for the third year running).

They now started making pointed enquiries about my friends and whether or not they’re seeking employment elsewhere (yes) and are preventing me from working with all bar one person whose work visa is tied to the practice in the fear that I will start some sort of mutiny I believe.

Live shot of how my work currently views me

All in all… didn’t go as poorly as I thought it could have and yet… still quite badly.

Oh well. Just another few weeks.

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cosmowgyral · 2 days ago

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Falling into Sin with the Black Tiger ~ Gilbert's 4th Birthday

▪︎ A Story from his POV

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

NSFW/MDNI

I thought the beast of destruction was a greedy creature.

Countries and people alike, can go to any lengths to get what they want.

Despite my self-confidence, I didn't realise it until I was asked, "What do you want?"

I hadn't really thought much about what lay ahead after obtaining everything.

Emma: Gil, aren’t you going to sleep?

After returning to my room from the ballroom, I was gazing aimlessly at the sky when Emma, who had been lying down, suddenly sat up.

Gilbert: I thought I’d bask in the afterglow of my birthday a little longer.

Emma: Then I’ll join you.

She embraced me from behind and the cold night air turned into warmth.

(I noticed that you weren’t sleeping and was waiting for you to join my company…..)

(If I say it out loud, I might get into trouble.)

Gilbert: You should go to sleep.

Emma: I can’t sleep.

Gilbert: Even though we did all sorts of things?

Emma: ……

Just by lightly tracing the hand that had been hugging me, Emma began to get flustered.

The corners of my mouth quirked as I felt the quick increase in heartbeat from my back.

(Maybe I went too far.)

--*flashback from the dining room*--

Emma: Mmm….aahh…your fingers…nghh

Gilbert: You want me to take them out? But I’m not moving them.

Emma: Nnn....you’re lying….

Gilbert: You know I hate lies.

Emma: Aaaahh

Gilbert: See, you’re acting on your own again.

Emma: No…Gil….you just bit my breasts.

Gilbert: It’s cruel to blame others.

Emma: A…ahhh...

--*flashback ends*--

(But it couldn’t be helped. She had a face that was saying “please eat me”.)

When we returned to my room from the dining room, or when we took a bath to wash our messy bodies….

I liked Emma’s reactions, how she tried her best to respond despite being embarrassed, and so I ended up being a little too mean.

Emma: Maybe because of all the things that happened to me…I can’t sleep at all.

Gilbert: You’re right. It’s no wonder you can’t sleep if you’re this anxious.

Emma: …So you can hear my heartbeat.

As Emma tried to move away feeling flustered, I grabbed her hand and pushed her down onto the bed.

Pressing my ear against her soft chest, I could hear her heartbeat more clearly.

Gilbert: It’s becoming faster again.

Emma: That’s how much I love you.

Gilbert: Hehe, thanks?

(The date has changed and so my birthday is over now.)

(You give me what I want every day.)

(I know you’re the only one who will never betray me, even without any threats or domination.)

As she caresses my hair in a pampering manner, the drowsiness is overshadowed by a sinful feeling.

When I poked the bulge visible through her negligee, a sweet sigh escaped from Emma’s mouth.

Emma: What are you doing?

Gilbert: It was right in front of me.

Emma: …Not now.

Gilbert: Because it will come back again?

Emma nodded without understanding a thing.

Gilbert: If you really don’t like it, I can stop….

I pulled up the hem of her nightgown and stroked my fingers between her legs.

It was so wet that it couldn’t have been caused by simple teasing, and it immediately swallowed my fingers.

Gilbert: Is this why you can’t sleep?

Emma: Ahh…again..

Gilbert: It’s a problem to be loved this much, isn’t it?

If I expose Emma’s weakness deep inside her belly, her poor, tormented lower abdomen will soon start dripping with her honey.

Gilbert: Does this mean ‘I love you’?

Emma: That’s….right…

Gilbert: Heehee, I see.

(No matter how many times I experience your ‘love’, it always feels good.)

I massaged her breasts over her negligee, also moving my fingers inside her to scoop out her arousal.

The love I sensed in her warm gaze was genuine.

Even though I’m such a terrible man, Emma always loves me.

(You asked me to be selfish on my birthday this year….)

(I thought my last selfish wish in life was to meet you.)

(I made up a reason to go to Rhodolite and get involved with Emma, even if it meant ruining her life.)

(I had never thought of anything more selfish than that, and I could never think of anything else.)

When I kissed a breathless Emma, she put her hands behind my head as if welcoming me.

I was moved by the way she kissed me, as if conveying that she wasn’t opposed to this at all.

(….Now that I think about it, it seemed obvious.)

(It’s only recently that I’ve started thinking about my future.)

When our lips part, a thread hangs in the dim light.

Emma: You too, Gil….

Gilbert: Hmm?

Emma’s hand rested on my cheek, and I was smiling kindly, too kind for a villain.

Emma: You act like you love me.

Gilbert: Hehe, isn’t that obvious?

Gilbert: I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t love you.

I pull out my fingers from inside her and help her sit up.

Emma seemed to understand my intentions immediately, and blushing bright red, she climbed on to my lap.

(I’m spending time now that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.)

(And if you plan on staying here from now on….)

(Maybe it is a good idea to take some time to think of my own future.)

(Most of my memories are already made up of blood and corpses, painted all black…)

(The memories we make give me hope for the future.)

Emma lowered herself on me, and hugged me tightly.

Emma: Haah…Gil…

Gilbert: You’re okay with moving on your own again?

Emma: That’s…not true…

Emma said “that’s not true”, but as she moved her hips she lets out a small shriek.

It seemed she had moved unconsciously, and again, I couldn’t help but laugh.

(When I’m with you, I feel so happy.)

(…I’m sure Emma knows very well what it means for me to be happy.)

I secretly watched Emma bustling about preparing for my birthday, but this year too, I couldn’t keep a smile on my face.

I imagine Emma had her own thoughts about giving her blessings to the great villain.

Even so, I didn’t sense any hesitation.

She had already made up her mind to celebrate this blood-soaked man.

Emma: I think…you’ll be asked…'what you want to do’ next year as well.

Emma: So please, give it…a lot of thought.

Emma: I’ll make all your wishes come true.

Gilbert: Does that mean you won't be listening to me until next year?

Emma: If you have one now…please…ah

I intentionally move my body and Emma’s expression changes again.

I never get tired of her expressions filled with ‘love’.

(For now, all I can say is….)

Gilbert: I’d love to go on a date with you again.

Emma: Like…the other day?

Gilbert: Yeah. I like spending casual times like that.

Emma: Me too.

Gilbert: After that….

Bodies intertwined, lips pressed together, heartbeats synchronized, and then our gazes meet and we smile together.

Gilbert: Will you celebrate my birthday next year too?

(And commit many more sins…)

(Will you fall with me?)

[Chapter 3] [Masterlist]

He loves her sooo much omg, I really LOVED this story. I'm so glad he's happy.

Also when he said he went to Rhodolite for her....god, I just hate to imagine him going there for her, only for her to end up with the other princes (in other routes). Even though Silvio's my favourite, I feel miserable.

#gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince #ikemen prince gilbert #ikepri gilbert #cybird ikemen #ikemen series #cybird otome #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen prince translations #d: cafekitsune #d: enchanthings

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perkypeony · 7 hours ago

Text

𝕋𝔸ℕ𝔾𝕃𝔼𝔻 𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝕊

Model Nanami Kento x fashion designer reader

You were flicking through the pages of your sketchbook, your head spinning as you tried to decide which design would be best for your new streetwear collection. You thought you’d ask your friend's opinion later, but for now, you were going to get ready and head to the newly opened branch of your daily wear boutique.

Despite studying fashion design during your time at the creative arts academy and being able to create meticulous designs, you opted to build your own brand of daily wear that’s stylish yet affordable. Your business started small, but with the support of your friends—who happened to be the famous actor Gojo Satoru and the rising singer Geto Suguru—more people came to know your brand. Just last week, you opened the third branch of your boutique, and you were already planning to open the fourth branch overseas in a few years.

You got out of your midnight black Mini Cooper and saw a long line outside the boutique. It was probably too crowded inside, so the staff had asked the customers to queue outside. You made a mental note to install some sort of shade so the customers wouldn’t have to wait in the sun. The staff recognized you immediately and greeted you, asking if there was anything they could help with. You told them you were just doing a little observation.

You smiled as you overheard a customer praising the high quality of the material despite the affordable price. As you walked around, talking with some customers for feedback, you spotted a blonde man wearing a black mask—one you’d recognize anywhere. It was the hot model, Nanami Kento. He became famous after modeling for big brands and even appeared on the front covers of internationally known magazines. And to add to that, he was your crush back in the creative arts academy and still is today. That’s why you would remember him forever.

You admired his calmness and respectfulness. He always maintained a very professional work ethic. Unfortunately, you and he had never been close, only talking a few times. The only person you still kept in touch with was Nanami’s best friend, Haibara. He tried to set you up with Nanami, but you were always too shy and quickly declined his crazy plans.

You were surprised to see him in your boutique. Did that mean he wore your creations? Not gonna lie, sometimes you imagined him modeling your designs, but you had never hired a famous model before. After all, you had two famous friends willing to post pictures of themselves wearing your brand on social media. Without those two idiots, you wouldn’t have been successful today.

You gathered all your courage to say hi to him, hoping he would remember you. “Hi, Nanami. Uh... what are you looking for?”

“A hoodie,” he replied, then looked up to meet your eyes. “Y/N? I never thought I’d meet the designer herself.”

So, he did remember you. You could feel your stomach do silly things. It was probably the butterflies. “I’m just doing a quick observation. Is this your first time at my boutique?”

“I’ve bought a few pairs of pants and shirts from your boutique before. I really like them. And since this new branch is closer to my condo, I thought I’d give it a visit.”

“Thanks for your support. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said with a warm smile. “We haven’t seen each other in quite a few years. Do you have any plans tonight? Maybe we could catch up over dinner?”

A dinner? With your crush? That surely sounded like a dream come true!

“I would love to go to dinner with you tonight,” you answered, trying not to sound too giddy.

“Perfect. Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“Alright. I have to go check on the... um... cashier. See you tonight.”

Nanami nodded and smiled as he watched you leave. He couldn’t wait to tell Haibara that he had finally asked you out for dinner.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #kento nanami

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aishangotome · 16 hours ago

Text

Azel Radwan: Romantic Ending Epilogue

Chapter 25

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the script for this chapter!

We reunited in Acroite and said "goodbye" once more, each of us needing to fulfill our duties.

But this wasn't a "goodbye" forever, so there were no tears. Though tinged with loneliness, we began to move forward, this time with determination.

The days of pausing and hanging my head were over.

Some time passed after that—

Azel: This is completely useless. Start over.

Kamal: What?! How many times do you think I've rewritten this?!

Azel: It's your fault for only bringing me bills full of holes.

Azel: Even if it's outside your area of expertise, think from multiple angles. As it stands, there will inevitably be those who profit and those who suffer losses.

Kamal: Ugh... Azel, you used to draft bills so easily. I guess that really was amazing.

Enis: Of course it was. If you think we can do it just like him, you're in for a rude awakening.

Enis: Let's take it one step at a time. Kamal has only recently returned to public service.

Kamal: Sigh... I understand why people want to rely on divination.

Azel: I'll still give you an oracle if you pay me. At a special price.

Kamal: No thanks. Your divination fees are so exorbitant, I'd go bankrupt in an instant.

Enis: By the way, Kamal, how long do you intend to continue with this "older sister" act?

Enis: Now that the exile order has been lifted, there's no need to disguise yourself anymore, is there?

Kamal: I like it. Because, you know, I'm really beautiful, right?

Azel/Enis: ......That's true... / ......You are.

Kamal: Oh my, thank you! I'm so happy to have such honest little brothers.

Azel: Putting aside such trivial matters, how long do you intend to stay hidden?

(He noticed after all.)

I shift my body, which had been hiding behind a pillar, waiting for their conversation to end.

I meet eyes not only with Azel, but with Kamal and Enis as well.

Kamal: Oh, it's that time already. Miss Emma, long time no see.

Emma: It's been a while. I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation.

Azel: These two are the ones interrupting.

Kamal: Did you hear that, Enis? That misogynistic Azel is bragging so openly about his love life.

Enis: Was he bragging?

Kamal: Because he's saying, "I want to spend time with you alone as soon as possible. I don't want to be disturbed by anyone!"

Enis: That's true.

Azel: No, I'm just fed up with the sheer number of consultations you two have about official duties.

Azel: Listen, I'm already dead. Don't keep relying on a dead god.

Kamal: I know, but you're so competent, Azel. It's hard for us mere mortals to fill your shoes.

Azel: That being said, don't come back again.

Kamal: Could you at least show a little remorse?

My two older brothers don't seem to intend to stay long and start walking towards the exit.

But when they pass me, they stop dead in their tracks.

Enis: Miss Emma, have you thought about that matter?

Emma: Yes. I've discussed with the owner about opening a bookstore in Tanzanite and received permission.

(That's why I came to Tanzanite this time.)

The first thing people did when they started walking in a world without God was to seek knowledge.

The era when divination provided answers without the need for thought was over, and people were desperately flocking to the few bookstores that remained.

To improve the situation, His Majesty the King, Enis, has begun inviting book merchants to settle in the country.

This time, the owner was chosen and has been approached with an offer to open a bookstore with the support of the nation.

(But the owner is a merchant who wants to travel, so he wasn't keen on opening a Tanzanite branch.)

(...Until I raised my hand.)

Emma: I'd like to discuss various conditions...

Enis: Let's make time right now. Let's go together—

Azel: I'll handle the contract procedures. Enis, you have other things to do, don't you?

Azel, who had somehow appeared behind me, places his hands on my shoulders.

I sense an unspoken pressure from him saying, "Don't go with him."

Enis: Kamal, not again.

Kamal: He's saying, "Don't take my Emma away," right? Oh my!

Azel: Yes, you don't need my help anymore, then. That's a relief. Never come to the temple again.

Kamal: I'm sorry. But you should be a little more honest with yourself.

Kamal: No girl would feel bad about being loved.

Azel: ...>:(

Kamal: See you later then. Miss Emma, let's have a tea party together another day.

Enis: I'll take my leave as well. Miss Emma, I appreciate you considering this proposal.

Perhaps sensing Azel's pressure, this time they disappear beyond the sand clouds without stopping.

(It suddenly became quiet.)

Azel: ...What's with that big luggage?

Perhaps feeling awkward as well, Azel hurriedly breaks the silence by pointing at the luggage I had left by the pillar.

Emma: Actually, I'm having trouble finding a place to live.

Emma: I've been invited to the castle, but it's not very relaxing, so would it be alright if I imposed on you here again?

Azel: I'm in debt to you anyway. I can't disobey you, can I?

Emma: Of course, if you don't like it, I can rent a place in town—

Azel: You can stay here.

With a swift motion, he picks up my luggage, and Azel strides off into the depths of the building.

But after taking a few steps, he realizes I'm not following and turns around.

(Does this mean I can live here?)

(Before, he never even bothered to check on me like this.)

I desperately try to hide my surprise and run after him, not wanting Azel to get sulky.

Emma: Thank you very much. But I feel bad taking over part of your room like before...

Emma: I was thinking of cleaning one of the rooms and using it.

Azel: It would take years. Give up on that.

Emma: I have plenty of time.

Azel: The ceiling might collapse in places that haven't been repaired, you know?

Emma: That's a little scary... but actually, I found a good spot when I was exploring the temple before.

Azel: That place is sealed off now.

Emma: ...I haven't even said which place it is yet, have I?

Azel: A god knows these things.

Emma: You said yourself before that gods are ordinary people, Prince Azel.

Azel: I don't recall saying that.

Emma: ...Could it be that...

Azel: No.

Emma: You don't want to be apart from me for even a moment—

Azel: That's why I said no!

Emma: Eek...!

The feeling of having my cheeks pulled after so long made me a little happy.

Azel: ...Well, if you insist, I'll make you a room.

Azel: But you can only use that room from morning till evening.

Emma: Why is there a restriction?

Azel: The desert nights are cold.

Emma: I know that.

Azel: ...That's why.

(...?)

Azel, who had been walking with me, suddenly starts walking ahead, leaving me behind.

Emma: Wait!

Azel: Why should I wait?

(He said I can't use the room at night because it's cold, which means...)

Emma: Is this what you wanted to say?

I reach out to Azel and hug him tightly from behind.

(I already know this warmth.)

(Because I've experienced it so many times.)

Emma: That's right, you might be just right as a substitute for a blanket at night.

Azel: ...That's not it, but if that's what you want to think, then interpret it however you like.

Emma: You really aren't honest, are you?

Azel: I'm always honest.

Emma: But I also like that part of you that absolutely refuses to be honest.

Azel: ...

Azel turns around and looks down at me.

I feel like his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but no words come out.

(...What was he about to say?)

After enjoying a meal together for the first time in a while, we finished our nighttime preparations, and the evening hours arrived.

With the bookstore opening discussions concluded, I took out the alcohol I had bought in town from my bag.

Emma: Actually, I brought some alcohol as a souvenir.

Azel: What are you scheming?

Emma: ...You suspect my goodwill is a scheme? How cruel.

Azel: Am I wrong?

(As expected of Azel...)

Of course, choosing alcohol as a souvenir wasn't a whim.

Emma: Since we'll be living together again, I thought I'd like to have a heart-to-heart talk with you first.

Emma: You're not very honest, so I thought we could have a real talk with the help of alcohol.

Azel: Why should I go along with something like that?

Emma: ...Because I'm uneasy.

Emma: You're easy to understand, but you never express yourself in words.

Emma: I want to make sure I'm not doing anything you dislike without realizing it.

(Precisely because he's Azel, who has been troubled by the violence of love, I want to be sure.)

(I want to make sure that barging into the temple wasn't a nuisance, that my presence isn't a burden...)

Emma: I'll go make something to drink—

As I try to move away, he grabs my hand.

Azel: ...What about you?

Emma: Me?

Azel: There are still things I don't understand about you.

Azel: ...I'm afraid that before I know it, I'll become the perpetrator...

Azel: ...

Azel: No, forget it.

Azel lets go of my hand and takes out alcohol cups from a nearby shelf.

(...I thought he wouldn't honestly admit his love because he was embarrassed.)

(But in reality, precisely because he's been tormented by love, he's afraid to acknowledge it.)

(He's afraid that he might be unconsciously inflicting violence on me too...)

(Even though he knows it's different, maybe there are wounds that haven't healed.)

Emma: Prince Azel... Do you remember what I said when you forced that debt on me?

Azel: That I'm an evil god?

Emma: Not that...

*flashback*

Emma: Even if I'm in debt, I'll say no to things I don't like.

Emma: Don't think I'll just obey everything you say.

*flashback over*

Azel: —Ah, you did say that, didn't you?

Emma: That's the kind of person I am.

Emma: I'll say no to things I don't like. Of course, I'll also say yes to things I do like.

Emma: I don't intend to hold back, even if you're a former god.

Emma: That's why... I'd be happy if you loved me a lot.

Emma: Like Kamal said, no one feels bad about being loved.

Azel: ...

Azel turns his back to me and silently pours the alcohol into the cups.

Then, after taking a sip, he returns to my side.

Emma: Of course, you can also say no to things you don't like, Prince Azel—Whoa?!

Suddenly, he scoops me up and throws me onto the bed.

Before I can sit up, Azel leans over me and lightly pecks my lips.

Azel: How is this?

Emma: Uh...

Azel: You'll say no to things you don't like, right?

He gently nibbles at my neck, and my body heats up.

It's not an unpleasant heat; I tremble at the unfamiliar sensation, but I'm not afraid.

Emma: ...I don't... dislike it...

Azel: Very well.

(Come to think of it... Doesn't Azel become a kiss-demon when he's drunk...?)

By the time I remembered this, it was already too late. He continued to kiss my neck and slowly went down my collarbone, then trailed onto my chest over the negligee.

Emma: Nn... Um...

Azel: Ah... kisses and hugs were part of the payment terms, weren't they?

Emma: ...If I request them, will you provide them?

Azel: I'm already broke, burdened with a debt I can't repay even in a lifetime.

Azel: It doesn't matter if it increases a little more now.

Emma: Ah...

When he took my nipple into his mouth, I couldn't possibly remain calm.

A strange sensation welled up inside me, and I instinctively turned over to hide my breasts.

Azel: Why are you running away? I just want to kiss you...

Emma: It's embarrassing... Ah... Nn...

He pulls down my negligee halfway, and his lips touch my exposed back.

He kisses me greedily, over and over again, and the chill of the desert night fades away.

Emma: Nn... I thought... you disliked this sort of thing...

Azel: I only dislike women driven mad by aphrodisiacs.

Azel, transformed into a kiss-demon, places a kiss behind my ear and whispers.

Azel: This is what normal lovers do, right?

(...!)

(He finally acknowledged that we're lovers.)

(...The power of alcohol is truly great.)

His large hand caresses my leg, and—

Emma: W-wait, I'll drink some alcohol too!

Azel: Huh?

Emma: I don't dislike it, but... at this rate, I feel like I'm going to go crazy with embarrassment...!

Taking advantage of an opening, I slip out of Azel's arms and grab the alcohol cup that was on the table.

Azel: Ah...

Since there was still some left in it, I drank it all in one gulp. The sweet and refreshing liquid slid smoothly down my throat.

(Delicious...)

(...Huh?)

Emma: This doesn't seem to be the alcohol I brought...

Azel: ...

Emma: ...! There are two bottles.

The bottle cleverly hidden under the table was my souvenir, and the bottle in front of me, upon closer inspection, was just a normal drink made with fruit from the desert country.

Emma: When did you switch them...?

Azel: ....................

Emma: ...So you're not... drunk...?

Azel: ...Is that bad?

Azel turns away from me.

Azel: I'm not so much of a scumbag that I would take advantage of you while drunk.

Azel: ...Well, I think I did make a move on you before, but that was an accident.

Emma: ……

Emma: Hehe…..

Azel: If you have the composure to laugh, then I won't hold back either.

He pulls me close, and with a swift motion, my already slipping negligee falls to the floor. A scream almost escapes my lips, but it's muffled by a kiss.

Emma: Ah...Nn...

This kiss, which held a hint of hiding his embarrassment, is deeper and more insistent than before.

As I desperately tried to resist him, his large hand comes up and wraps around my breasts, fingers squeezing the tip.

Unable to resist the surging waves of sensation, I felt a strange discomfort in my lower abdomen and tightly gripped Azel's clothes.

Azel: What's wrong?

Emma: Don't say "what's wrong"...

Emma: My body... feels strange...

Azel: It feels strange, but you don't dislike it, right?

(...Well...)

His hand slips between my legs, teasing a sensitive spot, and my hips buck in response.

I desperately bite back the moans that threaten to escape, but he might have heard them anyway.

Emma: Ah... Please don't hate me even if I start acting strange, okay?

Azel: ...

Azel: Are you stupid?

Emma: Ah...

His fingers push into uncharted territory, making squelching sounds.

Azel: —...You'd be cute no matter what you do.

Along with the rising pleasure, a small voice reaches my ears...

(Real love makes me this happy, huh?)

Romantic Ending Letter

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#ikepri azel #ikemen translations #ikemen prince translations #azel #azel radwan #ikepri jp #cybird otome #azel radwan romantic ending #azel radwan romantic epilogue

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yassbishimvintage · 19 hours ago

Text

No Questions (Studio pt 3 )

MDNI!

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

A/N: This is for the grown and sexy. And I admit you might be slightly pissed with Amari.

Brendan was doing a small tour circuit in Chicago. She heard her phone ring. B had sent her a first class ticket to where he’s at. Amari’s eyes widened as she stared at the message that had just come through. She quickly unlocked her phone to see the ticket notification. It was a first-class plane ticket to the city Brendan was staying in, with the departure time only a few hours away.

She blinked a few times, reading the details again, still not quite processing what she was seeing. Brendan sent me a ticket?

Her mind raced. He had been in touch with her all week, sending sweet texts and checking in, but this—this felt like a bigger step. Was he trying to move things forward? Or was this just another grand gesture in a series of them?

She felt her heart start to race. On one hand, the idea of getting away for a little bit, having some time with Brendan, was tempting. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Things had been moving fast, and now this—an unexpected trip, an invitation to step into his world a little deeper. It was a lot to process.

A few minutes passed as she sat in silence, staring at the phone. She could feel her palms sweating, and the little voice in her head was growing louder, questioning everything.

Just as she was about to overthink herself into indecision, her phone buzzed again with another text from Brendan.

“I know you’re busy, but if you can, come visit. I’d love to have you here. It’s just you and me. No work, no distractions. Think about it, but don’t think too long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a warmth in his message, something that made her smile despite herself. She hadn’t expected him to make such a bold move, but it was clear he wanted her there.

Amari took a deep breath, her thoughts swirling. Could she go? Would this make things clearer between them, or would it complicate everything more?

She couldn’t help but feel a pull toward him. The way he made her feel—wanted, appreciated, understood. The idea of spending time with him without distractions sounded tempting, even if it came with its own set of risks.

With a small, determined sigh, Amari finally made her decision. She quickly typed out a reply.

“I’ll be there. I’m booking my flight now. Can’t wait to see you.”

She hit send, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she imagined what the next few days would bring.

Amari stepped off the plane, the cool air of Chicago greeting her as she made her way to baggage claim. The city’s skyline loomed in the distance, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. It had been a spontaneous decision, but now that she was here, she felt a rush of anticipation.

She pulled up the message from Brendan, confirming the hotel where he was staying, and made her way toward the car service waiting for her. She didn’t have much time to dwell on her thoughts—her mind was too busy picturing what the next few hours would be like. The trip, the unspoken feelings, and the possibility of deepening their connection.

As she arrived at the hotel, the sleek, modern building towering before her, Amari’s heart picked up its pace. The lobby was immaculate, with polished floors and the faint scent of fresh flowers in the air. She walked up to the front desk and gave her name, her palms slightly clammy with the anticipation.

“Mr. Brendan’s expecting you,” the receptionist said with a warm smile before handing her the key to his suite. Amari took a deep breath, steadying herself as she walked toward the elevator.

When the doors opened to his floor, she could hear the faint hum of music from inside his suite. The familiar sound of Jacquees’ voice, one of his favorite artists, drifted through the cracks of the door. Amari smiled softly to herself—this was Brendan’s world, and she was about to step fully into it.

She knocked softly, waiting for him to answer. Her heart raced, each second feeling like it stretched into eternity. The door swung open, and there he was. Brendan, dressed casually, his hair slightly messy from a long day but still looking effortlessly good. His hazel eyes locked on hers, a playful smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he teased, his voice warm with a touch of relief. “Glad you decided to.”

Amari couldn’t help but grin back. “You made it hard to say no,” she said, stepping into his space.

Brendan reached out, taking her luggage and setting it aside before pulling her into a tight hug. She could feel his warmth, his strength, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just the two of them, here together.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured into her ear.

Amari pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “Me too.”

His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin as he looked at her with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine. It was a side of Brendan she hadn’t seen before—soft and affectionate, but with an intensity that felt real.

“Come on, let me show you around,” he said, taking her hand and leading her into the suite. It was spacious, with large windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The living area was comfortable yet luxurious, with a plush couch and a few personal touches scattered around—a couple of framed album covers, a guitar by the wall, and a few items that hinted at his musical life.

Amari let her gaze wander around the room, taking it all in. It was exactly as she imagined—stylish and lived-in, but still very much his. And now, it felt like a space she could share with him.

As Brendan showed her around, his presence felt grounding, and any lingering nerves began to melt away. They chatted about everything and nothing, finding comfort in the easy flow of their conversation.

After a while, Brendan moved toward the windows and gestured for her to come closer. “What do you think?” he asked, looking out at the sprawling city.

Amari joined him, her eyes tracing the lights below. “It’s beautiful. Big change from where I’m from, but I think I could get used to it.”

Brendan gave her a sly grin. “You might just get used to a lot of things while you’re here.”

Amari turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re right about that.”

The chemistry between them was undeniable, and as they stood there, the air between them felt charged with the unspoken possibilities of what could come next.

Brendan looked at her, his expression softening. “I’m glad you’re here, Mari. Let’s just enjoy the time we have together.”

Amari nodded, her heart swelling. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a while, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As Brendan kisses Amari softly, the connection between them deepens, and the tension that’s been building between them over the last few days is finally released in the warmth of the moment. His hand gently cups her face, his thumb tracing her jawline as their lips meet. The kiss is slow, deliberate—he wants to savor it, to let the uncertainty of their situation melt away, even if just for a while.

Amari, her heart racing, responds in kind, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. It's the first time they've been so close since they both agreed to take things slow, and yet, the pull between them is undeniable.

As they pull back, she looks into his eyes, her breath shallow. "You sure this is what you want, B?" she asks softly, the hint of concern still lingering in her voice.

Brendan pauses, his gaze steady as he cups her face with both hands. "I'm sure," he says, his voice low and sincere. "With you, I’m sure."

He presses his forehead against hers. “Why are you so anxious about this relationship? You’re my girl.” He says.

Amari’s breath hitches at his words, her heart fluttering as his forehead presses against hers. His reassurance seems to ground her, but there’s still a gnawing hesitation within her. She lets out a quiet sigh, her hands resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.

“I’m not anxious,” she begins, though the words feel less convincing than she intended. “It’s just... everything’s moving so fast. I don’t know if it’s just the thrill or something real.” She looks into his eyes, searching for answers, for something she can hold onto.

Brendan’s expression softens, and he gently tilts her chin up, guiding her to meet his gaze. “Mari,” he says, his voice calm yet firm, “it’s real. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. You’re not just some fling or a distraction. I want you. All of you.”

Amari swallows, her eyes glistening as she searches his face. It’s hard for her to fully let go of her doubts—after all, she’s been burned before, and trusting someone in his position felt like walking a fine line between security and instability.

But there’s something in the way he holds her, the way he’s always made her feel seen. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust this. Trust him.

“I just...” she starts again, her voice quieter, “I don’t want to lose what we have. This feels different, B.”

His smile softens, and he leans in to kiss her forehead gently. “You won’t lose me, Mari. I’ve got you. Always.”

He smiles. “Jump.” He says softly. She does and wraps her legs around his waist. This always made her feel safe.

Brendan’s arms immediately wrap around her, holding her securely as she jumps into him. Her legs instinctively encircle his waist, and she feels the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. There’s something so grounding about this moment, about the way he makes her feel like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Her head rests against his shoulder, and she lets out a content sigh. The world outside might be fast-paced and uncertain, but right now, in his arms, everything feels calm, safe, and real.

Brendan chuckles softly, his voice a low hum against her ear. “I’ve got you, Mari. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with me.”

Amari smiles, her hands gently trailing down his back. “I know. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? But... when I’m like this, with you, I feel like everything will be okay.”

He tightens his hold on her for a moment, a silent promise passing between them. “That’s because it will be. We’ve got this, together.” He leans back slightly, just enough to look her in the eyes, his gaze warm and steady. “You don’t have to carry all that weight by yourself. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Amari’s heart swells, and she leans in to kiss him softly, grateful for his reassurance, for his presence in her life. For the first time in a while, she feels like she can truly exhale.

“Mari. You’re my home.” He says softly. Amari feels a warmth spread through her chest as his words sink in. "Home..." she whispers, the weight of his sentiment grounding her in a way nothing else could.

She pulls back slightly, searching his eyes to make sure she’s hearing him right. His gaze is steady, sincere, and filled with an intimacy she didn’t expect but deeply needed.

"I never thought I’d find that," she admits softly, her voice trembling just a little. "But when I’m with you, it’s like everything else just fades away. I feel like I belong. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be."

Brendan smiles, his hand cupping her cheek as he leans in to kiss her gently, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without saying a word. When he pulls back, his voice is low but firm. "You do belong, Mari. With me. Always."

Her heart races, and she lets herself fall into the moment, feeling the weight of his words, the certainty in his touch. This is it—this is what she’s been searching for. A place, a person who makes everything feel like it’s falling into place.

With a soft smile, she rests her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I’m home too, B," she murmurs, closing her eyes, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over her. "I’m home with you."

“You better make this worth it. I had to cancel the rest of my appointments today.” She says.

Brendan chuckles softly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he adjusts his grip on her. "I’ll make it worth it, trust me." His voice is laced with a playful confidence that’s impossible to ignore. "You know I’m all about keeping my promises."

He slowly carries her to the couch, settling down with her in his lap, his hands tracing gentle patterns along her skin. The atmosphere between them shifts, an unspoken understanding passing through the air. It's more than just the physical chemistry that fuels this connection—it’s the quiet moments like these, where everything else fades into the background, and it’s just the two of them.

"You’ve worked hard, Mari," he says, his fingers dancing over her shoulders, massaging out the tension in her muscles. "You deserve a break. And I plan on giving you one... in every way possible."

She tilts her head back, allowing herself to relax into him. "You better," she says with a teasing smile, her voice soft but filled with that signature challenge she always throws his way. "I’m counting on you."

Brendan laughs softly, his lips curling into a grin. "Consider it done."

As they settle into the quiet comfort of the moment, Amari allows herself to let go, trusting in him to make this day, this time, worth every bit of the sacrifice she made. It feels right. She feels right. And for once, she’s letting herself simply enjoy it.

Amari slowly wakes up, the soft hotel sheets tangled around her as she stirs. The light filtering in from the window feels warm against her skin, but there's a strange emptiness in the room. She glances around, expecting to see Brendan by her side, but the bed is empty.

Confused, she stretches, trying to recall the events of last night, but everything feels a bit foggy—too much passion, too much heat. Still, she can't help but feel a tinge of unease as she notices the absence of his familiar presence.

She sits up, the cool air from the room hitting her skin as she checks the time on her phone. No messages, no calls. Her thoughts race—was it just a fleeting moment for him? Did he leave without a word?

Despite the confusion, Amari forces herself to shake it off. She quickly gets dressed, trying to push aside the doubts that are slowly creeping in. As she steps out into the hotel hallway, she hopes to find him, maybe to ask what happened, or maybe just to confirm that last night wasn’t something he wanted to erase.

Before she could she sees a card and another box on the table.

Amari pauses in the hallway, her eyes landing on the card and the box placed neatly on the table by the door. She feels a wave of curiosity wash over her as she approaches, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the card before she picks it up.

The card is simple—elegant with clean lines, and inside, written in Brendan’s familiar script, are a few words:

"I didn’t mean to leave you with so many questions. Let me explain when I get back. Enjoy the gift, it's a token of my appreciation for you. See you soon, B."

A sigh escapes her lips, the tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. He didn’t just leave without a word—he left a message, and it seemed genuine. But her mind still churns with questions. Why had he left so suddenly? Why didn’t he wake her?

Her attention shifts to the box beside the card. It’s carefully wrapped in sleek black paper with a metallic gold ribbon tied around it. A pang of uncertainty stirs in her chest, but she can’t help herself—she carefully unwraps the box, revealing a small velvet jewelry case inside.

Amari slowly opens it, her breath catching in her throat when she sees what’s inside—a delicate necklace with a custom pendant that reads "Mari" in elegant script. The sentiment is clear: this isn’t just a typical gift; it’s personal, thoughtful, and carries weight.

She runs her fingers over the pendant, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She feels touched but also unsure. What does this mean for them? Why does he feel the need to give her this now?

Amari sits down on the couch, the necklace still clutched in her hand as her mind races. She looks down at the pendant, tracing the curves of the letters with her fingertips. Her thoughts spiral, a jumble of emotions swirling together, making it hard to focus on any one feeling.

Why am I second-guessing this? she thinks, biting her lip as she reflects on everything that’s happened between her and Brendan.

At first, it all seemed effortless. There was chemistry, an undeniable pull that had brought them together so naturally. He was charming, funny, and caring when he wanted to be. But then there were the moments that gave her pause—the moments where he would vanish, or leave without a word, like last night. And the times he’d get distant or act like he was keeping a part of himself hidden. She had always told herself that she didn’t need to be the one to ask for explanations, but now she’s beginning to question if that was the right approach.

Is this just a whirlwind romance, or am I setting myself up for something deeper? she wonders. She feels a tension between what she knows—how much she cares for him—and the uncertainties that keep cropping up. She remembers how she told herself she wouldn’t let someone into her heart so easily again after her past. But with Brendan, it felt different. Or maybe it’s the fear of it not being different enough.

Am I falling for someone who isn’t ready to commit, or am I just overthinking things? The doubts cling to her thoughts like a fog, heavy and lingering.

Her phone buzzes in her lap, snapping her out of her reverie. It’s a text from Brendan.

"Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."

She stares at the message, her heart fluttering a bit at his words. Yet the feeling of uncertainty remains. Does he really mean it? Or is this just another fleeting moment in the rollercoaster of their relationship?

Amari sighs and drops the phone on the couch beside her, leaning back with her hand still wrapped around the necklace.

She wishes she could just have clarity. A sense of what’s real and what’s fleeting. The trust they shared feels genuine, but the insecurity in the pit of her stomach is hard to ignore.

When Brendan walks through the door that evening, Amari is still sitting on the couch, lost in her thoughts. The sound of his keys hitting the counter draws her attention, and before she can fully process it, he’s already crossing the room toward her.

He pulls her up from the couch and wraps his arms tightly around her, enveloping her in his warmth. His chin rests gently on her head, and she feels the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath.

"I missed you," he murmurs softly into her hair, his voice steady and reassuring.

For a moment, Amari lets herself melt into his embrace. The doubts and questions swirling in her mind feel smaller when she’s in his arms. His hug is grounding, like an anchor holding her steady against the tide of her own thoughts.

"You okay, Mari?" he asks, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. His hazel gaze searches her face, concern etched into his features.

She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid her voice might betray the mix of emotions she’s feeling. Brendan tilts his head, clearly not convinced.

"You’ve been quiet all day," he says, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Talk to me. What’s on your mind?"

Amari hesitates, biting her lip as she considers whether now is the right time to bring up her feelings. But the tenderness in his eyes gives her a small push of courage.

"I just..." she starts, her voice soft. "I’ve been thinking about us. About where this is going."

Brendan frowns slightly, his hands still resting on her waist. "What do you mean? Did I do something to make you doubt how I feel about you?"

"It’s not just about you," she says quickly, shaking her head. "It’s me, too. I’m trying to figure out if I’m... ready for all of this. For us. Sometimes it feels like we’re moving so fast, and I’m scared I might get hurt."

Brendan’s expression softens, and he pulls her back into his arms, holding her even tighter this time. "Mari," he says, his voice steady but full of emotion. "You’re my girl. I don’t want you to feel like you have to question that. I know I’m not perfect, and yeah, this might be moving fast, but I don’t take what we have lightly. You’re not just someone to me. You’re everything."

His words hit her like a wave, washing over her doubts and leaving her feeling raw but reassured. She exhales deeply, letting herself sink into him again.

"I don’t want to lose you," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You won’t," Brendan says firmly. "I’m not going anywhere, Mari. We’ll figure this out together. One step at a time."

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, she decides to trust him. To trust them. Maybe it’s not all clear right now, but it doesn’t have to be. She just has to take it one step at a time, like he said.

Brendan pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on Amari's waist as he locks eyes with her. His tone is firm but gentle, grounding her in the moment.

"Amari," he says, his hazel eyes steady and unwavering. "We discussed this. I’m your boyfriend. You’re my girlfriend. That hasn’t changed. It won’t change."

She opens her mouth to respond but finds herself at a loss for words. The certainty in his voice, the way he says it like it’s the most obvious truth in the world, makes her chest tighten.

"I know," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s just..."

"It’s just what?" he presses softly, tilting his head as he studies her. "Tell me, baby. Don’t hold back."

Amari sighs, running a hand through her curls. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough for you. Your life is... big, B. You’re everywhere. Everyone knows you. And me? I’m just..."

"You’re just the woman I want," he interrupts firmly, cupping her face in his hands. "I don’t care about the rest. All of that—my career, the fame, the noise—it’s nothing if I don’t have you to come home to."

Her breath hitches, and she searches his face for any sign of doubt, but there’s none. Just honesty.

"You’re more than enough, Mari," he continues. "You’ve always been enough. And if you’re ever feeling like this again, you tell me, alright? I don’t want you sitting in your head overthinking. We’re in this together."

Amari swallows hard, nodding as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. "Okay," she whispers.

"Good," Brendan says, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. "Because you’re stuck with me now. No take-backs."

That earns a soft laugh from her, and she leans into him, resting her forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around her again, holding her close, and for the first time in days, she feels the weight in her chest begin to lift.

Brendan's voice drops to a low, teasing murmur as his lips trail along the curve of Amari's neck. "Now," he begins, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine, "I have a way of enjoying you while we’re here."

Amari tilts her head slightly, giving him more access as her hands rest on his chest. "Oh, really?" she asks, her voice soft but laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

His lips curve into a smirk against her skin before he presses a series of slow, deliberate kisses along her collarbone. "Mhm," he hums. "No distractions, no interruptions—just you and me."

Amari’s fingers trail up to his shoulders, her heart pounding at the intensity in his voice. "And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Superstar?" she teases, though her breath hitches as he continues his exploration.

Brendan pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his hazel eyes darkening with intent. "It means I want to focus on you, Mari. No cameras, no schedules, no outside noise. Just us, in this moment."

Her cheeks flush at the sincerity in his tone, and she bites her lip to suppress a smile. "Well, when you put it like that..."

He chuckles, his hands sliding down to her waist as he pulls her closer. "Then let me show you," he whispers, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s slow, deep, and filled with all the promises he doesn’t need words to express.

Amari stirs under the covers, her body still warm and buzzing from the hours spent with Brendan. She glances over at him, sprawled out beside her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A faint smile plays on her lips as she takes in his peaceful expression.

Then, the sharp buzz of his phone cuts through the quiet. Amari sighs, her muscles sore but satisfied, as she reaches over to the nightstand. "B," she murmurs softly, nudging his arm.

He groans in response, eyes barely cracking open. "What is it, baby?" he mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

"Your phone's going off," she says, holding it out to him. "Might be important."

Brendan takes the phone, squinting at the screen. His brows furrow as he reads the message, and he sits up slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"Everything okay?" Amari asks, her tone laced with curiosity and a touch of concern.

He sighs, placing the phone back on the nightstand. "Just my manager," he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Nothing that can’t wait till morning."

Amari relaxes, her smile returning. "Good," she whispers, pulling him back down beside her. "Because I wasn’t done cuddling you yet."

Brendan chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "You’re gonna ruin me, Mari," he says with a soft laugh.

"Guess we’re even then," she quips, burying her face in his chest.

Amari hears her phone buzz on the night stand. She opens her phone. And she sees she’s been tagged in a photo by Brendan. Coming from his stage page. It’s a picture of her on his bare chest sleep.

Amari’s heart skips a beat as she unlocks her phone and opens the notification. There it is—a photo Brendan posted from his official stage account. In the picture, she’s peacefully asleep, her head resting on his bare chest, the soft lighting in the room casting a serene glow over the intimate moment.

The caption reads: "My peace. My girl. 🖤 #NoQuestions"

Her eyes widen, and a mix of emotions floods her—surprise, embarrassment, and a strange, undeniable warmth. Brendan is private, especially when it comes to his personal life. For him to post something so intimate on his public page felt... monumental.

Amari’s cheeks flush as she glances at Brendan, who’s now propped up on his elbow, watching her reaction with a sly grin.

"You posted that?" she asks, holding the phone up.

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "What? I can’t let the world know I got the baddest girl out there?"

She shakes her head, biting her lip to suppress a smile. "B... you know your fans are going to have a field day with this, right?"

He leans closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Let them. I want everyone to know who I come home to."

Amari sighs, leaning into his touch. "You’re really trying to make me fall even harder for you, huh?"

"That’s the plan," he says with a wink, pulling her into a kiss.

She was scrolling through the pictures. She stopped on the last one. Curious, Amari scrolls back to the last photo and reads the caption Brendan had posted beneath it:

"When she’s your peace and your muse all in one. #MyQueen #NoQuestions #AmariAndB"

Her lips part slightly as she rereads the words, her heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t just the pictures—he had put her at the center of his world, publicly claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt.

She glances over at Brendan, who’s lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone as if he hadn’t just sent the internet into a frenzy.

"B," she starts softly, catching his attention. "This caption..."

He looks up, his hazel eyes meeting hers with a calm intensity. "What about it?"

"It’s... a lot," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "You’re really putting us out there like this."

Brendan sets his phone down and shifts to face her fully. "Amari, I don’t do anything halfway. You’re it for me. If the world knows it, then good. I’m not about to hide how I feel about you."

Her eyes soften as she takes in his sincerity. "You’re sure about this?"

He cups her face, brushing his thumb along her cheek. "More sure than I’ve ever been about anything. You’re my peace, Mari. And I want everyone to know it."

She exhales deeply, her chest swelling with emotion. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?"

Brendan chuckles, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Only because you are."

She smiles, resting her forehead against his. "Alright, fine. But if this blows up, you’re the one answering all the comments."

"Deal," he says with a smirk. "As long as I get to keep posting you."

Amari shakes her head with a laugh, knowing she’s already lost this battle. "You’re impossible, B."

"And you love it," he counters, pulling her into his arms.

She lets herself melt into him, silently admitting he’s right.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @notpradagurl7 @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout

#yassbishimvintage writes #mid sized sedan #mid sized sedan x oc #mid sized sedan smut #mid sized sedan x black reader #mid sized sedan x black!oc #aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #aaron pierre smut #Spotify

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trashcanwithsprinkles · 8 hours ago

Note

Happy new year :)

So I finally got to read the new chapter today, and I just - want Childe to ask Zhongli outright why everyone thinks he's human, when he isn't. Obviously, he wouldn't ask that on purpose, but maybe just blurt it out?

Hopefully, Zhongli would notice that Childe doesn't care at all that he isn't human, and he could just be himself with him without having to censor his reactions.

Zhongli seriously needs someone besides Qiqi to be himself with and talk about all that. Childe would have the added bonus that he didn't know Zhongli as Rex Lapis, and while it would trip him up for a bit, he would just go on with life and treat him no differently.

Though all revelations regarding his nature as a dragon will have to wait until after they return from their trip.

As always, thx for sharing your fantastic writing!

genuinely i think if the gang had a couple doses less respect towards zhongli n they started thinking abt intervening on his whole- he looks tired and stressed deal, THEN childe might actually blurt something out if he happens to be there as an intervention is taking place

kinda like,

zhongli: what do you mean i cannot leave the house. i have things i must do guizhong: you need to take a day off! have you considered the spa? a massage? you look stressed hu tao: yeah, can't have you coming in to work like you're dead on your feet zhongli: i assure you i'm fine ping yan: yeah but you don't really believe it, do you? you look like shit my man guizhong: you're not getting out of here until i see you take like at least a couple of days off to just relax around the house! ping yan: oh- one of the girls from student management does call-on massages! hu tao: wait that's great! we could get him a massage! he looks ultra tense! zhongli, mildly concerned now: uh- what- guizhong: i think i still have some nice coconut oil somewhere in the bathroom, this is a great idea! zhongli, hearing the word 'oil', alarmed: i really don't- hu tao: oh sush you! you're the one that got into this situation by being a workaholic, you have no right to complain now! childe: oh my god- first of all rude, second- why do you all just keep treating him like he's gonna collapse?? guizhong: because he will??? childe: no??? are you blind?? you can't just apply human logic to this, have you actually thought of asking him how he's doing?? ping yan: tf you mean 'human logic'?????????? guizhong: he says he's fine but we can all see he's not, so there's no point in asking him when he's just gonna try to pretend he's not stressed childe, realizing they haven't actually asked him, realizing they don't believe the man anyway (!!), and realizing they haven't noticed he's Not Human (???): oh my god. how are you the one who's known him the longest

#ily <3 <3 <3 #aaa thank you;;;;;;;;;;

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storiesabouteli · 15 hours ago

Text

Do The Damage. Part 2 // Dilf! Noel Gallagher X f!Reader (Smut).

prompt: Noel falling for a younger singer who isn’t famous yet and is just starting out, so he guides her like a tutor to boost her career and help her gain more attention. But would this bond remain purely professional? (Involves smut, with the potential to escalate over time and features an age gap.)

Here's Part 1!!!

words: 5,7k.

a/n: It's supposed to be 4 parts, it doesn't have a grand plot, I just wanted to write about this topic. I hope you like it! (and pls use a condom, this is just a fanfic)

Your curious eyes wandered around the vast studio.

“For now, yes, but later there’ll be more people,” Noel replied, noticing your curiosity.

You nodded, hands tucked into the pockets of your dress. LA was unbearably hot, and he was practically freezing you with the air conditioning. He had shown you every corner of the studio, and by now, you felt fairly comfortable. Guitars adorned the walls, along with basses and a drum set from one of those impossibly expensive brands. You stood in front of him, looking a bit like a lost child, genuinely waiting to be told what to do next.

It took him a moment, but he realized your discomfort.

“Alright, I probably didn’t plan this out too well,” he admitted with a soft laugh. Noel had this way of laughing—never showing his teeth, always restrained—yet it still carried an effort to make you feel welcome. He mentioned having read through the songs you sent, even though he had already listened to them before. Now, he said, he knew the exact lyrics. You were both eager and terrified to know his exact thoughts about your work.

“Is it okay if I use the equipment?” you asked, your fingers lightly brushing one of the microphones as you picked up the headphones, waiting for his approval. Everything about this was new, and you wanted to immerse yourself in every detail.

“Feel free to use whatever you want, little’un.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you bit the inside of your lip to ground yourself. You glanced at the buttons; they were a mystery to you—just rows of switches without any labels that made sense. Noel seemed to forget that all of this was second nature only to him.

“Alright, let’s start by getting you familiar with everything. Once you’re comfortable, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

It sounded like a good idea.

Time flew by. What felt like mere minutes had actually been hours. Occasionally, the two of you would lapse into silence, but it was never awkward. He had a soothing voice, explaining things as if they weren’t obvious, allowing you to visualize every step. You liked the way he talked.

His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him, the dark strands now interspersed with gray and brushing the tops of his ears. The piercing blue of his eyes shone brightly as he spoke and gestured. He wore a dark button-up shirt, which made little sense given the LA heat, but he looked undeniably good in darker colors. The shirt failed to fully conceal the hair on his chest, which peeked out just enough to be distracting.

“This is pretty heavy, Noel,” you said as he handed you a red guitar with his last name etched into its side. It was clearly well-used, with the wear and tear of countless gigs, but it was still beautiful. Noel seemed amused by the way you pronounced his name, your accent stretching the vowels slightly, like it was meant for you to say it that way. That could be your thing, he wouldn't dare to correct it, he even hoped to hear it again.

The guitars you had played before were lighter, simpler, and less durable.

“You can play it if you want. It’s good to get used to a specific guitar early on.”

You listened, feeling an odd warmth in your chest as you wished he would call you “little one” again. You adjusted the strap, your gaze falling to the floor.

“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted softly, your fingers pressing down on the strings without producing any sound.

He nodded, as if he actually understood.

“What don’t you know, little’un?” he asked softly, his expression calm, as though it never crossed his mind that you could be anything less than genuine. His body was behind yours, close enough that you could feel your heart pounding, and you were sure he could hear it. He reached over, placing his hand on the guitar’s neck and gently adjusting a few strings.

The truth was simple: you hummed melodies, your friends figured out the notes, and then you carried them with you.

“I only know my songs,” you admitted, hesitating. “There aren’t many, and I memorized them with the help of some friends at the pub.” The words felt clumsy as they left your mouth. Without realizing it, you took a step back, bumping into Noel’s solid chest. His hands found your waist instinctively, steadying you. He smelled familiar, and his touch was just as cool and soft as you remembered.

"There’s nowt wrong wi' that. No one’s born knowin’.” he said, his voice low and sure, as though speaking directly into your ear. “I’ve learned a lot since the first album; we can work on this if you’d like.”

His breath brushed your skin as he spoke, dangerously close. “Want to try something?” he asked, strumming a short segment of one of your songs. He had memorized the chords—he’d listened to it that much. It felt odd, but you let it go, too focused on steadying your own breathing.

“I’m not sure...” Your voice faltered, and he laughed softly—a nasal, warm sound. His shirt brushed against your bare arms as he shifted closer.

Taking your hands in his, he guided your fingers, demonstrating each press of the strings and the sounds they produced. The simplicity of the act caught you off guard; your mind felt blank as you followed his movements. His hands were strong yet gentle, his fingers adorned with rings that you couldn’t help but notice. You fixated on the way his skin moved against yours, completely distracted.

“This isn’t sounding right,” you said impulsively, turning your face toward him. His eyes, which had been focused on your hands, now met yours, and the proximity was overwhelming. You immediately looked down, feeling vulnerable, and he noticed your hesitance.

“But it will. Trust me, yeah?” His smile was reassuring, revealing slightly crooked lower teeth and the faint lines of age around his eyes. His thumb grazed the bridge of your nose absentmindedly, a fleeting moment of intimacy that made his cheeks flush. He quickly pulled back, brushing his hand over his own face as if the action had been too much.

God, he was something.

“You’re doing well, tiny one,” he murmured, his tone encouraging. “You just need to relax and give it more time.”

Your fingers ached, and you instinctively pulled your hands back. “You trust me a lot,” you said softly.

He noticed the faint bruising on the tips of your fingers, the start of a superficial cut—nothing unusual for someone unused to playing. His gaze softened as he pressed the edge of his shirt to your hand, stopping the bleeding.

“Shouldn’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Trust yourself, I mean. So far, I haven’t seen anything in you that doesn’t show how good you are at this...” His words trailed off, slightly disjointed, but you found yourself wishing he’d talk about you like that more often.

Noel made a mental note of your cold hands and the way your short, thin clothing seemed to betray the studio’s chill. He pressed your hand one last time as if silently resolving to make sure you were warm and comfortable next time.

…

In the days that followed, before heading back to the hotel, Noel suggested the two of you go out to eat—a way to spend more time talking. His suggestion seemed casual, but beneath it was a genuine effort to do something meaningful for you. He worried about repeating the mistakes he’d made early in Oasis, afraid of being a bad influence or overwhelming you. At the same time, he simply wanted to be around you. Both feelings were true.

Since you’d spent hours at the studio, and he hadn’t thought to offer you a proper meal, he picked a relaxed spot. It had the feel of the pubs you performed in—live music and warm, dim lighting.

When you arrived, a chill brushed against your arms. Noel chuckled, noticing. You hadn’t seen him carrying a jacket, but he swiftly draped one over your shoulders, his gaze thoughtful over you. The weight of it was reassuring.

“I can control the studio’s temperature, but most places here are air-conditioned. You’ll end up freezing,” he said. You didn’t respond, too preoccupied with wondering whether he’d always have a jacket for you—these oversized, cozy layers that swallowed you whole. You liked the way his scent clung to the fabric and hated that your thoughts weren’t as innocent as they should have been.

Sitting across from him, there was nothing to distract you. The moment felt unguarded, almost daunting. He had loosened a few buttons because of the heat, and the soft collar rested against his rosy skin, his neck chain catching faintly in the light. His eyes, unwavering, were on you, and you felt your stomach flutter.

Your foot brushed against his under the table. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but neither of you moved. His posture was relaxed as always, his deep, nasal breaths calming despite the quiet tension in the air. Eventually, your foot settled against his calf, taking in the warmth of him.

“What’s that smell?” he asked, breaking the silence, motioning toward the pink tube of moisturizer in your hand.

“Peach,” you said, your voice betraying a small note of excitement. You wanted to talk more but worried that beyond music, you might not be interesting enough for him.

“It’s nice. It makes me feel less tense,” you admitted. He let you take his hand in yours.

His hands were larger, rougher—calloused in a way yours should have been. You applied a small drop of cream, carefully massaging the hardened patches and tracing the prominent veins. Your nails grazed his wrist lightly, eliciting a pleasant tickle. It felt like an eternity, but neither of you rushed the moment.

You smoothed out the creases in his shirt next, your hands brushing against his wrist as you rebuttoned it. You folded the cuffs to what you assumed he’d consider the perfect height. When you looked up, his jacket was still draped over your shoulders, your smile faint but content. He noticed how the strap of your dress sat slightly askew but didn’t say anything. Instead, you adjusted it yourself, catching his gaze in the process.

Noel shifted uncomfortably, silently berating himself for the thoughts creeping into his mind. But as much as he resented the pull he felt, he couldn’t ignore how real it all seemed.

When you finished, you noticed he was watching you intently. You smiled a bit more openly this time, and his eyes softened, as though they were smiling back. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty—it was full of things neither of you dared to say aloud.

The food arrived shortly after. Noel whispered a quiet “thank you” as you pulled his jacket closer around yourself. He hoped it would carry your scent by the end of the night.

The atmosphere remained easy, the unspoken comfort between you palpable. Noel wasn’t particularly hungry, but watching the way your eyes lit up with every bite and how your smile widened unknowingly made him savor his meal. You made him feel good—better than he had in a long time. Everything else in his life was chaos, except for you.

It had only been a week, but he already felt like he did back in school when he had a crush—looking forward to seeing someone so much it made the days worthwhile. He found himself wanting to avoid trouble, if only to be in a better place whenever he saw you.

At one point, he gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, clearing away a small smudge. You watched him, reflexively brushing the same spot with your hand afterward. For a fleeting moment, Noel considered bringing his thumb to his lips, but he stopped himself, knowing it would feel too weighted. Instead, he wiped it with a napkin, hesitating to apologize lest it make things awkward.

You didn’t seem to mind. Your cheeks were flushed, and the tingling sensation of his touch stayed on your skin. It wasn’t a mistake—you liked it. And as he sat there across from you, watching your expression under the dim light, Noel knew he did too.

…

"Do you need sunscreen? I didn’t see you apply any yet," you asked, preparing your second layer while Noel hadn’t bothered with any. "How disgraceful, Noel. You hardly seem like an older man." He rolled his eyes at your teasing. Until the rest of the team arrived to record your songs, he kept you busy like that, and also by repeating vocal exercises and practicing breathing. It was embarrassing, but hearing him say, "You're doing great, darling. Let’s try one more time, but you’re getting it right," never failed to make you feel both comforted and eager to hug him.

In the coming weeks, you’d be performing together, singing some of his songs as a guest. Nothing had been rehearsed yet, but the thought alone tied a knot of anxiety in your throat. Sharing the stage with him felt unimaginable, especially since you weren’t used to large audiences.

The wind tousled his hair, and his carefree expression was oddly reassuring. You handed him a bit of sunscreen, but his clumsy attempts to apply it made you laugh. "Alright, Noely, let me handle this." Your cool fingertips touched his face as you removed his sunglasses. The scent of peach lingered in the air as you smoothed the cream over his skin, feeling the roughness of his beard under your hands. Noel closed his eyes, letting himself relax–not that he could much.

Tracing the bridge of his nose with your thumb, you made him sigh, his lips parting slightly. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow. Stepping back, you finished applying the sunscreen to his shoulders. Even though you wanted to, you didn't go any lower than that, letting him continue on his own.

When his hands moved across your back in return, his warm touch calmed you. Noel’s thoughts wandered, struggling against the pull of desires he knew he shouldn’t entertain. But something about the peaceful way you smiled, eyes closed, made every barrier he’d built feel meaningless.

Gently moving the strap of your bikini aside to cover your skin, he found himself tempted to press his lips to the curve of your neck, imagining how your breath would hitch at the touch. He shouldn’t want this—he knew it. But in that quiet moment, with you so serene and trusting, resisting felt impossible. You were there, unguarded, as though he was your safe haven. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be.

“Wait a min," you murmured, your voice soft and drawn out, a lazy whisper. Your fingers, light and unsure, fumbled with his as you untied the bikini string, letting it fall away to expose more of your skin–not in a provocative way, but enough to stir something unspoken. His gaze lingered, heavy and unreadable, though he kept his expression neutral.

Careful not to overstep, Noel began rubbing sunscreen over the newly revealed area, his touch slow and deliberate as he worked down toward your waist, barely brushing your hips. Your skin felt impossibly soft beneath his hands, as if it might break with the slightest misstep. With a final, almost reverent squeeze, he let his hand fall away, your body responding with a subtle shiver at the loss of contact and a faint murmur escaping your lips.

Sitting back, Noel noticed how still you were, your head nestled closer to the makeshift pillow of your towel. A quiet chuckle slipped from him as he realized why–you had drifted off, the process taking longer than either of you had anticipated. For a moment, he allowed himself to watch you, his heart caught between tenderness and restraint.

…

The unfolding of the night felt like the complete opposite of the calm that had settled in you earlier. Your chest was heavy, overwhelmed by a sudden realization of just how famous he was. His button-down shirt still smelled like him, and all you could recall was being pressed against his chest as he carefully guided you to a quieter spot. His fingers had gripped your skin, his gaze grounding, and the relieved words, "I think no one saw us," still echoed in your mind, leaving you shaken.

He hadn’t acted on impulse—there were groups of men looking for him, girls with cameras, and he had made it clear that it was important not to be seen with you. It was terrifying in every sense, but what struck you most was the new ache in your chest, knowing he didn’t want to be seen with you.

"I know this happened because you’re well-known," you said, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the right words. Noel knelt in front of you, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. He wasn’t entirely sure how to fix this, but he hoped his presence was enough to offer some comfort. His touch felt right; an unspoken attempt to reassure you, though the proximity unsettled him in ways he couldn’t quite name. Still, given the circumstances, it felt like the right thing to do.

“I’m really sorry, truly. This was careless of me," he apologized, his voice soft but genuine.

You shook your head, your hands gently cupping his face as you pushed his hair back. His deep blue eyes met yours, filled with concern. You were on the verge of tears, and the weight of it all made him uneasy. He wasn’t sure he fully understood your feelings, but they pierced him nonetheless.

"Noel, I might sound stupid, but—" you hesitated. Before you could finish, he pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness. Your legs circled his waist as you held onto him tightly. He stroked your hair, surrendering to the closeness, knowing he had never been this intimate with you before—and it was better than he’d ever imagined.

"If they like me, which I really hope they do—you know, with the songs, working with you, and all the pre-album promotion as an artist..." you trailed off, pausing to gather your thoughts. "I don’t want to sound ungrateful. This whole journey with you has been incredible, but... will it be normal?"

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, which made it easier to speak freely without the weight of embarrassment. Noel listened, his mind racing. He hadn’t thought about it like this before—how exposed you’d become to a part of his world he disliked himself. And the truth was, simply avoiding being seen together wouldn’t fix it. Soon, you would be just as much in the public eye as he was.

His tongue rested against the roof of his mouth as your fingers found their place at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at the fine hairs there–much like the way you fidget with the hem of your shirt when you're anxious. It soothed you. Your gaze dropped to his chest, and it hit you that this was the first time you'd held him for so long. He wore a light shirt, but after having seen him without it, the fabric somehow felt far less concealing. You liked everything about this–the warmth radiating from him and the unobstructed view of him in this moment.

He tugged gently at the collar of your shirt, pulling your face closer until his breath danced across your skin. When your eyes met his, you saw no attempt to mask his intent–he was staring straight into your soul. You were beautiful, even now, with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Understanding the turmoil inside you, he let you whisper through the haze of your emotions, "I can't mess this up.”

His focus didn't waver. Though every part of him wanted to pull you closer, he held back, patiently waiting for you to continue. "I want this too. I just... I don't want you to think less of me, okay?" Tears threatened to spill again. As you instinctively tried to lower your head, he gently tilted your chin back up, fully grasping the weight of what you were trying to express.

"I don't want you to think I'm doing this just because I'm interested in you. I don't want you to see me as..." You hesitated, searching for the right words. Instead of pressuring you, he pressed his forehead lightly against yours, cradling your face in his hands with a tenderness that disarmed you.

"I don't think anything bad about you, uh?" he said softly, unwavering but gentle. "I've never thought that way. These are just your worries, you got me? Nothing's gonna change the fact that I think you're talented and competent. That has nothing to do with how I see you as a professional. You don't have to be afraid of that."

His voice was firm, louder than usual, the roughness in his tone just right. Each word sank in, steadying you as you listened. He swallowed hard, his lips slightly parted, and you couldn't help but notice how patient he was, how perfectly he seemed to understand that you needed this moment to gather yourself. Your fingers tightened around his, and then, finally, your lips found his.

The kiss was slow, tentative. Though you felt self-conscious, unsure of yourself, it was warm, grounding. He pulled you closer, your body naturally molding against his as if you belonged there.

When you began to pull back, a flicker of doubt creeping in, his hand caught the collar of your shirt again, pulling you back into a deeper, more urgent kiss. The gesture made it clear–he had been waiting for this far too long to let you retreat now. As you leaned back slightly, he held you firmly, sensing how you were beginning to soften against him.

He chuckled into the kiss, his breath against your skin. His tongue brushed yours, the movements slow and deliberate, every kiss lingering as if he wanted to savor each second. The taste was salty–a mix of your tears and the sea–and you couldn't help but laugh softly at the thought of him being "seasoned.”

Your hand reached up to brush the hair from his face, and you took in the sight of him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, and his beard scratched gently against your skin, a sensation you hadn't fully processed until now. You wanted more, and for the first time, you didn't feel the need to hold back.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. You nodded, your lashes fluttering in a way that made him wonder if it was his words or his voice causing it. Either way, he was determined to keep seeing that reaction.

He ran his calloused fingers along up the curve of your thigh, stopping just at the edge, giving your hips a firm squeeze. Your nails dug into his shoulders in anticipation as your legs parted briefly, giving him better access and also making the fabric of your shirt give him a better view. The bottom of your bikini clung tightly to your skin, leaving faint indentations where the fabric pressed. His lungs filled with heavy air, as did his mouth with saliva, and he kissed the spot with a light bite.

He didn't need to ask, soon your back was against the sheets. You weren't scandalous to his ears, but something about it made you more noticeable, your breathing loud and prolonged. He undid the ties, brushing the rings on the sides, and revealing your flesh little by little. He moved one of your hands that were on your belly away and kissed the spot before looking at you. He wanted so much for this to be comfortable for you.

"Y’alright there, little’un?” Your eyes were teary, and he had barely touched you. You nodded, a simple noise of agreement. Your attention was his, your fingers entering his hair in a caress that made him close his eyes, resting his chin on your skin.

He dragged his face, soaking in your sounds, as the texture of his newly grown beard took hold of your exposure.

He chuckled, his nose touching your center, just enjoying how your fingers tightened in his hair to get him closer. This would take time, he was in no rush. He kissed your skin, groaning as he felt your taste on his tongue and realized how wet you were. His hands tightened around you, holding your hips and dragging them so that it would be better for him.

His body was warm, he pulled away slightly, touching his fingers to you and pushing them in just a little. Your legs moved back, but your only vision was of him leaning his head closer and sucking on his fingers right after, licking his red lips and swallowing cautiously.

"Yer proper good, yeah?" Your lips were a bit open, not knowing if that needed to be answered. It was a short pause, which felt like hours, but soon his eyes were closed and his tongue was firmly inside you.

When his fingers took their place inside you, the wet kisses started to be on your clit. His coordination was remarkable, worthy of what he did for a living. He pushed his fingers until they disappeared inside you, pulsated them in the right place thanks to your whimpering, until your legs tightened a little, and then he pulled them out completely wet and repeated it all over again. His tongue followed this rhythm, unerring, saliva joining with his fingers, your clit pulsating on his lips and he grunted with it as if giving you pleasure was something pleasurable for him.

"Noel," his name sounded like a plea. He had other plans, but your elongated vocals and honeyed voice made him lose himself there, his free hand caressing your belly and your hips trembling shyly against his face. He felt your cum build up on his fingertips and dripping down the corners of his mouth, with each gasp of yours, the more impossible it was to stop.

Your voice was more broken, it was possible to hear your throat scratching. Your eyes were closed, his fingers stuck in his hair, in a way that would certainly make him sore later, your thigh gradually stopped shaking and his muscles relaxed. Noel didn't leave, he just stayed close, with light kisses until it was over, even though your reaction was to rub yourself against him more, his nose brushing against you and his beard hurting you. When your eyes opened, meeting his, it still lasted a little longer until you had no other option but to stop because you felt too sensitive.

Nothing was said, it wasn't necessary. The crossed line already made things more tangible. He kissed your cheek, the salty taste leaving his chest warm. The corners of your eyes still overflowed, and he gently wiped them away. Your gaze followed him, his subtle smile still shining for you. There was a distinct difference from the other relationships you'd had before; you felt cherished there. He could have other relationships that weren't with you, but you were there.

"Do you want me to do something?" Your lack of action irritated you, but the awareness that he was older, had been through this countless times, and that everything had worked out so well from what you'd just seen, left you feeling insecure. You certainly didn't have many people to compare him to, and he did with you—though he wouldn't act on it…

He laughed, in a more sincere way, different from before. He was taking off his clothes, your attention distant yet present on him. His body was mature, the hair filling his chest fully and running down his stomach, he had a well-defined V of his abdomen, although he was not a muscular man. "God," he shook his head, kissing the side of your face.

He pulled the fabric of your shirt away, pressing his lips to your clavicle. Instinctively, you turned your face, giving him more space, allowing the kisses to trail upwards. Your fingers traced along his shoulders, then down his arm, only to rise again, lingering on his forearm before tightening around his neck in a hug.

"You’re proper tasty.” Your face nestled against his neck as he nibbled on your skin, making you laugh softly against him. He pulled you tighter, and you could feel every part of him–his warm body, the hairs sticking to your chest, mingling with the sweat between you and the weight between the legs touching you.

"You alright, love?” He pushed your hair away from your face, searching for an answer in your eyes, beyond just words. You nodded, letting his body fall onto yours, the comforting and precise weight settling perfectly.

Your button-down shirt was slightly open, still leaving room for imagination. He could see little of your cleavage, but that wasn't important, even so he sucked the exposed skin in a bite and released it slightly until a subtle mark was left. He adjusted himself, his forehead nearly touching yours, and your half-lidded eyes stayed fixed on him.

The wait was intentional, Noel didn't want to overwhelm you. Your gaze on him was as sensitive as your legs had been minutes ago, his patience more about not hurting you and making this more bearable. He watched your breathing return to normal, only for him to destroy it all over again. He felt sore, craving it so badly, but the whole vision was worth it.

Your nails dug into his back, and in total control, he filled you up. The air left his lungs in a rough grunt as your body was thrust forward by the impact, your hips meeting, and your eyes softly closing as everything fell into place. Your thighs tightened around him, but not so much that he couldn't move. The edges of your eyes started to water again, and he found this to be a new addiction of his.

"Yer can handle it.” The still bodies, the sweat and his voice working on you like anesthetics. He was waiting for you to get used to having him inside and you really needed it, you still felt sensitive, but you liked the sensation. “You're a big girl, right? You can handle it.” The crease between his brows deepened with every word, and there was something so satisfying about it.

Tears streamed down your face and he was attentive to your movements, being careful with you. The effect of his voice on you was very clear, with each syllable or compliment attributed. Your bodies dissolved into the sheets and soon the room was filled with wet noises and your pitiful grumbling.

"I’m ‘ere, ain’t I?” His hands on you, squeezing and pulling your body towards him were very firm, and although good, they would leave marks to be appreciated later. His face above yours was sweating a lot, in a way that made you want to lick it, the corners of his hair were damp and his cheeks and lips were red and you could feel him in your stomach. “I'm all yours, little’un.” His nose pressed against yours, and then his lips, the delicious sweat on your tongue, taking all your remaining breath.

His voice began to sound more distant, his sighs heavier as he went deeper into you following your fingers digging into his skin. You were so delicate beneath him, your movements moderate yet painful, so as not to disturb him, as if you expected to be punished otherwise.

He moved his hand down to your clit, pressing just enough to add to your desperation. His abdomen ached in a good way, your stomach clenching as your entire body wrapped tightly around his. His mouth went dry, and he watched you squirm, your legs suffocating him and your whimpering increasing.

He licked his lips, your body fragile and trembling before him, your little nod indicating for him to continue, not that you could take much. He didn't need much either, the wet noises were more intense, his hips more precise as you writhed and it wasn't long before you were being filled with warmth.

Still you moaned in disapproval as soon as he pulled out of you, he was careful, and you felt him slip out of you between your legs. Nothing was strange anymore, just intimate, in a way it shouldn't be. He then lay down next to you and you didn't know where you belonged or what to do.

Noticing your expression, he draped the sheet over your body. You nestled into his chest, burying your face there as if what had just happened was something insignificant. "I’m the one who should be hiding like this; I’m the old one ‘ere," he said, his tone light and teasing, trying to ease your shoulders. He could tell you were feeling shy.

"You’re good," you murmured, exhaustion settling in as his fingers lazily traced patterns along your back, grounding you to him.

"You’re good too, love," he replied, his eyes fixed on you—calm, unguarded, and without fear. You began to feel a chill crawl up your spine. Was this going to be a problem? He didn’t want to be seen with you, there was a noticeable age gap between you, and though you felt understood by him, you were convinced this was nothing more than a fleeting amusement for him. You told yourself you could handle it, enjoy the moment, but how would it feel to see him again in the coming days?

"I need to take this," he said, grabbing his phone, which you hadn’t even heard ring. Still, he stayed beside you, his calloused fingers exploring your skin with reverence, each touch gentle, as though memorizing you. He mentioned needing to meet someone—Gem, apparently, who had just arrived. Leaning in, he kissed your forehead, then the crown of your head, with tenderness that almost undid you.

"You can stay ‘ere if you want," he offered. "I just need to hand over the studio key to a friend. I’ll be back before you know it."

It was clear from the hesitation in his voice, even in the words he spoke on the phone, that he didn’t want to leave the bed. You nodded with a soft smile, and he kissed your shoulder one last time before reluctantly slipping away.

The question lingered: could you get used to this? Perhaps. But deep down, you knew he had no reason to nurture this.

#noel gallagher #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher smut #oasis x reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher fanfic #oasis noel gallagher

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deeplyshalllow · 3 days ago

Note

Omg I’m a moron… for over a decade… I’ve interpreted the DTL lyrics as being:

Nothing matters, [except] knowing [the mantra] “Nothing Matters”.

Like hakuna matata. But just now I realised it’s

Nothing matters, [so] [the act of] knowing nothing [is what] matters

🤦🤦🤦

Still. Oof, depressing.

The causes you care about don’t matter to those in power. Trying to do or say anything about it is not fashionable, nor acceptable amongst your rank of society. It’s futile and only makes you look like a fool, it brings embarrassment and ridicule upon your associates and family, it causes disagreements and fights. All of which will make your life miserable. (There’s a cost, there are things you’ll lose, there are bridges you’ll cross…) So don’t talk about it, stop thinking about it. Heck, don’t think at all. And life will be so much easier for you. More bearable. Yikes to go grimdark, Fiyero is lucky he was just kept away in universities and not sent away for a lobotomy or something, that is if Winkie Country’s politics weren’t aligned with Animal rights

to get lighthearted again:

Don’t wish, don’t start, wishing only wounds the heart. […] Elphaba could be that activist, but Fiyero can’t be like Elphaba….. OR CAN HE *dramatic music change* (❗️Fiyero has been emboldified. ❗️Fiyero no longer gives a twig. ⁉️ Fiyero has been given a gun— wait who signed off on that, wai—)

My ex therapist once said that I overthink and care about things too much, so I’d better stop, because it was making me sick and was going to kill me. And yet, the thinking and caring too much, was also what was keeping me alive. What a Catch-22! /s Go figure!

I also realised:

Make sure you’re where less trouble is rife!

Is not

Make sure you wear less,

And therefore not suggesting that Fiyero’s go-to defence mechanism, if he finds himself in trouble, is to start stripping off. Turn that fight break-out into a fight make-out. Make love not war. For over ten years I’d thought “yeah that sounds like a philosophy he’d have.”

Ten plus slutty, slutty years

The notion of “you’re not here to be politically controversial, you’re here to promote cheer/ your job isn’t to think, your job is to stand there looking handsome” (a variation of being seen and not heard, oh dear [FOOTNOTE]) … like when Mme Morrible and Glinda prevent Fiyero from speaking to the crowd in Thank Goodness comes to mind. On the one hand, the assumption that he’s incapable of knowing anything would allow him to acquire great information as a double agent, but on the other hand he’s successfully barred from knowing that the public celebration is for his own engagement, which he wasn’t even asked about. They didn’t think he could be trusted to consent to an engagement?? Ouch. And yet they trusted that he would perform/feel socially pressured enough to people-please and accept without fuss.

To take it way further, it could even be argued as if Glinda couldn’t trust him to not be “stupid” and choose the “wrong” fiancée… (even if she thought it would be for his own good and keep him safe from trouble in the long term. If this had been the case it backfired spectacularly)

Fiyero really do be out there getting objectified and treated like an object in Act 2- it seems out of his control compared to Act 1 where it was on his own terms.

What are your thoughts on the engagement, by the way?

Do you think it encouraged any spark of resentment towards Glinda?

If they had gotten married— ie, if there was a larger time gap between Elphaba returning to the Emerald City and Fiyero still couldn’t track her down— do you think Glinda and Fiyero’s married relationship might echo that of Nessarose and Boq? In which one feels kept/caged [FOOTNOTE] by duty, and the other possessive/fearing abandonment?

(Even more grimdark au where this married Fiyero’s growing stress, depression, and risk of disobedience puts him on Morrible/Wizard-prescribed medication, which Glinda wants to believe is helping him stay happy and carefree, when really it’s just keeping his thoughts muddled… I’d cry… why did I make myself sad like that??)

* THE FOOTNOTE: any comparisons of Fiyero with Animals (given his book origins as ambiguously indigenous/a poc) outside his political alignments is unintentional on my part. But the ammo is present, I guess. Dehumanisation is a Wicked theme. But I’m leaving that potential can of worms to the pros though

This Ask turned into a terrible flow of consciousness, SINCERE apologies, *hits ask anyway*

Yeah, honestly, poor Fiyero. I think the interesting conundrum about him, and one of the reasons he's so depressed, is that he should be in a position where he has some power. He's a prince possibly an heir to the Vinkus, he's what everyone in Oz loves, handsome, charming and generally good. But it's very obvious that he thinks he can't actually do anything, so he doesn't try ("those who don't try, never look foolish"). He sort of lets life pass him by at the beginning of the musical, doing what others expect of him.

And then there's Elphaba, who isn't at all what Oz wants, but even so she does fight, she does do what is right and she cares more about her cause than what people think. And I think that is what changes and inspires him - because suddenly there is a way to do good, it opens up a world for him that he wouldn't otherwise know, and by act 2 he is happy to divert from his expected path to explore this.

Fiyero and Glinda, on the other hand... Glinda is who Fiyero would expect to end up with - both personally and by society. It's the path everyone expects both of them to take. It probably would be where he ended (or at least with a girl like her) if it wasn't for Elphaba giving him another option - a path he'd prefer. So Glinda, who is different to Fiyero because she does her best to stick to the path that is intended for her, ends up having to be the one to pull him along that path (hence the surprise engagement - clearly he wasn't proposing fast enough!)

Ultimately, of course, Fiyero is given the option to choose and follow Elphaba (the unplanned path) but had he not? I think had he not met Elphaba, he'd have probably been content enough, not happy but not knowing much better, with Elphaba but no opportunity to leave? Yeah, I think it would be an unhappy marriage, by this point in the musical, though Fiyero and Glinda clearly do care for each other, they don't actually have much in common, especially not in terms of morals. I think Fiyero would resent standing there smiling when he could be doing good, and Glinda would start blaming him for ruining the happiness that she always expected to have when she married him. I think you can already see traces of this in Thank Goodness tbh.

I hope that answers your question :)

#wicked meta #asks #flinda #fiyero #elphaba #fiyeraba

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kiyomitakada · 2 days ago

Text

FUCK i mixed up the order i thought misa’s parents’ killer was killed after the stalking but it’s the other way around. god damn it. okay just pretend it happened like this for my sake alright.

[last time on soulmate AU so you don’t have to reread: light met L at the student representative speech and Pointedly Did Not shake his hand, and also misa told her manager she was going to move to tokyo]

Light manages to avoid touching L for an impressive two days.

Even after tennis — when L extends his hand to him, in the traditional good-game handshake, Light pretends he doesn’t see it as he wipes his palms on his shorts and puts his racket back into the bag. L cocks his head for a second, then lowers his arm back to his side.

Will he think I’m Kira based on my standoffish behavior? No, Kira is dedicated to justice and cares about the people, there’s no way he’d be standoffish… But would Light Yagami be…? I’ll just act friendly to make up for it.

“I think we’re both thirsty, and there’s something I want to ask you, so — do you want to get a drink somewhere?” he asks, straightening and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Well, you beat me, so you can ask me anything you want,” L says. “But I ought to tell you something first.”

“What’s that?”

“I suspect you may in fact be Kira,” L says, as easy as anything. “If you still want to ask me questions after that, go ahead.”

Light swallows. Damn it. He can’t reasonably ask for proof that L is who he says he is, then, not until his suspicion is cleared. He got him again. How does L always keep one step in front of him?

“Haha,” he says, “me, Kira?”

“Well, when I say ‘suspect,’ I only mean by a factor of one percent,” L says. “Is your wrist alright, Yagami-kun?”

Light glances down. Oh. He lets go.

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Just strained it a little.”

“Misa!” Akako’s tinny voice blares from the speakers. “Good news!”

“Huh?” Misa sits up, still holding her phone to her ear. “Akako-chan, it’s six in the morning…”

“I know! I’ll go to bed soon, just, listen, Misa! Remember the hexing circle I set up for you, for, uh, you-know-who?”

“The one with the voodoo doll I stabbed in the heart?”

“Yeah, that one! Check the detention center website, Misa! Do it right now!”

“Okay, okay,” Misa says, fumbling for her laptop. She has the website bookmarked by now. It loads slowly. There’s the usual banner of Kira victims running slowly on the top of the page—

Oh.

“Oh my god,” Misa whispers.

“He’s dead, Misa! He’s dead! You don’t have to go anymore!”

Kira… avenged her parents. Kira saved her.

A strangled sob escapes her throat.

“Misa? Are you okay?”

“This is the best day of my life,” Misa says.

“I know! Now you don’t even need to move to Tokyo—”

Misa hangs up. She wraps her hand around her neck and squeezes, just once.

She has to meet him. She has to say thank-you. Her life’s purpose has narrowed now; she’s one step closer to being free of it all.

There’s an odd thump.

Misa jolts, dropping the phone. She looks around. Everything’s in place, even the skull decoration that keeps falling off its hook. Huh. Wait, it sounded more like it came from the balcony…

She peers through the window, then frowns.

A notebook?

“Here, Ryuzaki, I got your t—”

“…”

“…Yagami-kun?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s nothing. My bad for bumping into you.”

“You did? I didn’t feel anything.”

“………Right. I didn’t feel anything, either.”

“So, what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“That can wait until you’re positive I’m not Kira. You go ahead and start, Ryuga.”

“Do Shinigamis have soulmates?”

“Is that what you humans call the ones who share the marks on your skin?”

“What else would you call it?”

“Scars. And no, we don’t.”

“Oh. …That’s a romantic way to think about it. But it must be lonely for you.”

“I’ve never wanted one before.”

“I could draw one on you! I’m pretty good at drawing, you know.”

“Would that not be even lonelier? To have a mark without anyone to share it with?”

“Ahahaha! You’re smart, Rem.”

It is a good thing that Ryuga isn’t his soulmate. It would have been dangerous, not to mention societally inappropriate. Light is happy about this.

He wishes he could talk to Ryuk in public, if only to yell at him to stop laughing.

“If I got the Shinigami Eyes, could I tell who my soulmate was?”

“No. It wouldn’t be helpful for us Shinigami, so we never evolved the function.”

“Darn,” Misa pouts. “Oh well. I want them anyway.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yeah? Duh?”

Later in the afternoon, she’s very careful with her gloves as she slides the tapes into Akako’s envelopes. She can’t think of anything worse than someone who isn’t Kira getting their hands over her fingerprints.

L/Ryuga/Ryuzaki/whoever keeps brushing past him whenever Light goes to headquarters. Physically, that is. Leaving little sparks of contact in his wake.

It’s on purpose. It has to be, at this point.

What is his game? Does he think he can — seduce Kira, or something? Even if Kira was gay, surely L wouldn’t expect him to be attracted to the man hunting him down. Besides, physical proximity doesn’t fluster Light. He’s very used to it. His friends from high school slung their arms over his shoulders, elbowed him, high-fived him all the time.

“Here,” L says, dangling a piece of paper in front of him. “For you to compose your message to the fake Kira.”

He says fake with such conviction. “Thanks,” Light says. He doesn’t snatch it fast enough to stop L’s thumb from grazing his wrist.

Nothing happens. Nothing happened the past few hundred times, either.

“Did you need something else?” Light asks, when L doesn’t move.

“No,” L says. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Rem is very careful to never touch Misa. It’s honestly a little cute. She hovers over Misa like a shield as they walk down the streets of Aoyama, sharp-sharp-sharp claws turned away from Misa’s skin.

Misa has a phone wedged between her wig and her shoulder so it doesn’t look like she’s talking to air, but she still turns her face upward to grin at Rem when she says, “Are you excited for the show?”

“Not really,” Rem says. “Trying to find the other Kira is risky, Misa.”

“I know, you’ve only told me a thousand times!”

“I suppose I still don’t understand,” Rem sighs. “I gave you the notebook so you could protect yourself. I didn’t want Gelus’s sacrifice to be in vain.”

“I am protecting myself,” Misa says, tapping the wig. “Haven’t I been careful?”

“You’re putting your life in danger for someone you don’t even know.”

“Are you going to stop me, then?” Misa challenges. “Gonna kill me?”

“No!” Rem sounds legitimately horrified. Misa feels a little guilty for that, though she brightens when they walk past the Note Blue — the cafe should be close now. “I would never hurt you. But… if you hadn’t moved here, you could still be working—”

“I got a new manager, it’s fine—”

“—and you could fend yourself off from any more stalkers with the notebook. You could lead a happy life… away from all of this.”

“Oh, Rem,” Misa says, reaching up to boop the Shinigami’s nose. “You just don’t get it.”

“You’re so selfless,” Rem murmurs, drawing slowly, languidly away from Misa’s touch.

“I’m really not.” But she’s never gotten this point across to Rem no matter how she explains it. For one thing, if she had done what Rem suggests, she would probably have jumped out a window three months in. “Oh look, there’s the cafe!”

“Liiiiight!”

Light isn’t usually jumpy, but he flinches when Sayu shouts his name up the stairs. The TV broadcast is still going just as L had written: We can offer you clemency and police protection if you work with us to capture the First Kira…

He’s fucked. He’s so, so fucked. How did the fake Kira find him? Nothing happened in Aoyama! Nothing even happened in the Note Blue — Light just stood around with Matsuda for thirty painfully awkward minutes! He wasn’t old enough to get the margaritas!

I need a plan, he thinks, while he automatically rises to follow his sister’s voice. She’s probably doing her math homework again. He’s going to sell me out, he’s going to kill me, I need a plan—

“Your friend brought over your notebook!”

Light freezes in the doorway.

Notebook?

“Coming,” he says a second too late, hurrying down the stairs.

“I can’t believe you of all people forgot your notebook at school, onii-chan,” Sayu says, elbowing him a little as he goes by. “You’re losing your touch!”

Light manages to smile at her before he rounds the corner, too distracted to notice the way Sayu’s face slides into a frown. He yanks the door open.

………………

The fake Kira is a girl.

The fake Kira is… very blonde.

“N-nice to meet you,” says the only human alive who knows Light’s worst-best secret. “I’m Misa Amane.”

( @kiyomitakada )

proof of concept for the yagamane soulmate au (doesn't actually contain any yagamane yet) dont mind me

The only reason Sachiko isn’t running is because there are children swarming around her, laughing and giggling while she shoves her way through the hall. Where had the nurse’s office been on the map — she rounds a corner, tries to catch her bearings, then notices it: the sounds of someone crying.

Light.

Sachiko yanks the door open, heart pounding in her ribs. Light never cries — he used to as a toddler, of course, but after Sayu was born Sachiko can count on one hand the number of times he’s had a tantrum. Her baby is so mature. When the school had called and told her Light was having some sort of nervous breakdown, I think? she’d dropped everything without a second thought and taken a taxi here.

“There, there,” the nurse is saying, rubbing her son’s back. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t touch me,” Light hiccups, broken and high-pitched, and Sachiko would shout at the nurse to get away from him if not for the fact that Light’s little fingers have the nurse’s wrist in a vice grip as though afraid she'll go.

“Light,” Sachiko says, “I’m here, Light.” She drops her bag on the floor and drops to the floor, cradling his face in her hands; Light doesn’t resist. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“It doesn’t work,” Light sobs. His eyes are puffy with tears. From the nurse’s expression Sachiko surmises this has been going on for a while. “Mama — Mama, where’s Dad?”

Sachiko’s heart twists. “Your dad’s at work,” she says, brushing a soaked strand of hair out of Light’s face. The nurse, free of Light’s grasp, has moved a few paces away to give them space. Light collapses. His head flops on Sachiko’s shoulder; she has to shift her weight to hold him. “Honey, talk to me. What happened?”

“I t-tried everyone,” Light says, voice a little muffled in Sachiko’s sweater. “Even the o-older girls, and the boys, and — nothing happened.”

Well, that’s probably good, Sachiko manages to not say aloud. What business does Light have with the upper-grade kids? “Did you want something to happen?” she asks instead.

Light nods miserably. “Noriko-sensei s-says you’ll know when it does. You’ll see it.”

“When wh—?”

Sachiko stops. She thinks. Light’s hand has clamped around her wrist, like he did with the nurse’s, and for the first time she realizes. He’s covering her soulmate tattoo.

“Light,” she says slowly, “what did you do?”

She doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but Light bursts into a new round of tears against her shoulder. Sachiko, shocked, wraps her arms around him, runs a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, Light,” she tries. “It’s okay!”

Light keeps sobbing.

Sachiko looks up at the nurse. “What class was he in just now?”

“Arts and crafts,” the nurse says. “They were making bracelets.”

The red camellias are printed in a woven pattern encircling Sachiko’s wrist. They are silent.

“It was my idea!” Light gasps out between hiccups.

Sachiko takes a moment before she speaks.

“Light, were you trying to find your soulmate?”

“I-it doesn’t make any sense,” Light says. His free hand is clenched in a fist. “You — you and Dad said — you’ll always meet —”

Sachiko swallows her horror. This is her fault. This is all her fault.

“Nurse,” she says, “could you please leave us alone?”

The nurse nods and withdraws through the door.

Sachiko sighs. She knew she’d have to give her kids the talk one day, but Light is only six, and she’d thought she had more time…

“Light,” she says, “soulmates aren’t real.”

The soulmate phenomenon is one of the greatest medical mysteries of all time. Not for a lack of literature: the abundance of evidence regarding soulmatehood stretches into Mesopotamian records. But it makes no sense. There are seven billion people alive. The chance of finding your soulmate, even without considering age and gender and all that, is almost nothing.

But it does happen. Misa knows, because her parents are soulmates.

To be honest, she’d had her doubts before. They screamed at each other, sometimes threw things, kept alternating being kicked out to cheap motels. But they always made up, in the end. Made up… passionately. Misa learned to put on music to drown it out.

“What does it mean?” she asked curiously one day, pointing at the bloodred ruby embedded in the hollow of her mom’s throat.

“It means he’s strangling me,” her mom said. “What do you want for breakfast?”

After her dad had gotten back from the motel she’d asked him instead.

“Well, Misa,” he said. “Your mother’s the worst bitch alive, and I’m the only one who can handle her right.” He touched his thumb to the ruby printed on his throat, fondness tugging at his smile. “We’re the same person. That’s what it means.”

Misa hadn’t really gotten it, back then. Why would two of the same people fight? If she could make another Misa she’d do it in a heartbeat. That way Other-Misa could do the chores for her.

…On second thought, maybe she did get it.

But anyway. Somewhere, subconsciously, she’d always doubted. Misa was very up-to-date on the latest celebrity scandals, and she knew how easy matching tattoos were to fake.

But now she is staring through the crack in the closet. There is blood pooling on the floor, a dull red compared to the bright, shining light glowing from her dad’s throat. She stares and stares and stares until it fades to the white color of a scar.

“Miss,” says the officer on the phone, “Miss! Stay calm, we’re almost there—”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Misa says, and hangs up.

Her mom had stumbled like she’d been stabbed when her ruby went white. Snapped at Misa to hide and call the police, then picked up a kitchen knife. Misa isn’t sure when the burglar whoever-it-was dragged her dad’s dead body to rest in her line of view, but she knows his throat had still been glowing until it wasn’t.

She’ll never doubt soulmates are real again.

Light is seventeen years old and the world is falling apart.

Soulmates, he scoffs to himself, whenever the topic comes up in discussion. Akasato is rambling about his girlfriend again and how they’re fated to be. Light isn’t jealous. Getting attached is the worst thing that could ever happen to someone.

“I swear, man, the way you talk about her I think your tattoo should’ve been a ball and chain,” Yamamoto says.

Akasato groans. “She’s not that bad! She sent me chocolates!”

“The same ones she gave that basketball guy?” Light laughs.

“Don’t remind me, I’ll kill him, I swear,” Akasato says. Grinning. Murder is so out of the realm of possibility it’s funny. “And anyway, she’s coming over for Christmas.”

“Oh, whoa,” Yamamoto says. “Happy for you.”

“Yeah, congrats,” Light adds.

His mom wasn’t lying, exactly. The chances of stumbling across your soulmate are effectively zero. There’s studies suggesting that it’s higher than random chance, that most found soulmates live in or around the same timezone as you, but he’s pretty sure they’re cherry-picking.

It’s much easier to fall in love with someone and make them your soulmate instead, his mom had explained to him softly, rubbing her wrist. Much easier to get a tattoo with them, rather than hoping it’ll show up on your skin at first touch. Maybe even more romantic. Your dad and I love each other, Light. Who cares if he’s not perfect? He’s good enough for me.

The last time a teacher called Light’s work good enough was in fifth grade. Light had sabotaged his swivel chair afterwards and he’d had to take a week off.

“Thanks, guys,” Akasato says. “Hey, Yamamoto, who’re you having over for Christmas?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Sending cards to girls again?” Light puts in.

Yamamoto snorts. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be like Aka-chan here—”

“You take that back—”

“—and find their soulmate in middle school,” Yamamoto finishes. “I’m going to keep trying.”

“You know you actually have to make contact with them for it to happen, right?” Light asks.

“Obviously!”

“Yagami’s right,” Akasato says, pleased he’s not the topic of conversation anymore. “Are you sure you’ve got enough game for that, Yamamoto? I think you’d faint if a girl held your hand.”

“I’ve had girlfriends!”

“Sure, sure,” Light says. They all laugh. It’s nice having friends. “Oh, here’s my stop.”

“See ya!”

Light enters the house. Gives his mother his test grades, lets her coo, then slips into his room and heads for the drawer.

There it is. Untouched.

Who needs soulmates, he thinks, when you can be the god of the new world?

Misa sits cross-legged on a repurposed picnic blanket spread awkwardly over the wet dirt. She sticks one rose each into the soil in front of her parents’ graves.

“Hey, mom, dad,” she starts. “I’m not gonna come back for a while.”

The graves are silent. They have been for almost a year now. One rose almost falls over; Misa hurriedly reaches to fix it.

“I’m going to move to Kanto,” she declares. “I’ll catch him no matter what I do. I know which jail he’s in already. The prosecutor told me.”

She sticks the rose back in with some violence. It droops. All the other ones she’s brought have wilted — obviously, because their stems were cut ages ago. She can’t plant seeds, though. That would require someone watering them.

“I’ll ask for a visit and get him to attack me,” she continues. “And then I’ll stab him, and I’ll scream, and I’ll tell everyone it was self-defense. What do you think, Mom?” She’d always been better at lying than Dad.

“Good idea? I knew it.” Misa hops up, brushing the dirt off the picnic blanket. “I’ll start getting ready soon. Next month, I think. Definitely.”

“Ah,” says the voice from the television screen. “I had to test this, just in case, but I-I never thought it would actually happen… Kira. It seems you can kill people without having to be there in person.”

Light freezes.

He was wrong, he realizes, for possibly the first time in his life. He was wrong. Someone’s out there.

“Try to kill me,” L’s saying, and Light can hear the smirk even through unknowable kilometers of distance. “What’s wrong? Go ahead! Can’t you do it?”

“You bastard,” Light hisses through his teeth, feeling so alive he could cry.

He shouts I am justice at the same time L does, grinning, half-manic, and doesn’t even realize he’s clutching his wrist.

“Please,” says the stalker in the shadows, “please, Misa-Misa, I just need to — I just need to touch —”

Misa backs away. This is a dead end alleyway. She should never have gone to the convenience store at night. Her and her empty refrigerator and her stupid hungry stomach. There’s a fire escape, maybe if she jumps—

“Can you even fucking hear me?” The stalker shouts.

Misa nods, automatic, and wonders if she should scream. No one’s around at this time of day. Who would even miss her?

“Just one touch,” the stalker says. “Come on!”

And then in a flash he’s running for her. Misa turns and sprints and leaps for the fire escape — and misses it. She collapses in a heap.

Her stalker has his hand on her cheek. She jerks away. Of all the fucking days she could have forgotten her pepper spray.

“It’s not you,” the stalker says, abruptly sounding like he’s about to cry. “How could it not be you?”

“Get away from me,” Misa says, stumbling to her feet.

“All the interviews I watched,” the stalker says. “I have all your magazines, Misa-Misa!”

“I haven’t been in that many issues,” says whoever is operating Misa’s vocal cords as she calculates her chances. She has to catch him by surprise, it’s the only opportunity she’s got, shove him and run—

Oh. He has a knife. Never mind that, then.

“At least we can die together,” the stalker says — or — tries to say. Misa watches in shock as his mouth clicks shut and he… turns away?

And then he clutches his chest, and he falls.

Misa stays there, sucks in a few more breaths of cold air, then runs.

@kiyomitakada (so i can reblog)

#light being desperately lonely is like the funniest thing in the world to me im SORRY. IM SORRY #i have to scroll down 5 km whenever i try to find this so ive decided im posting it. why not.#yagamane

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