#but i was listening to a band that shall not be named because it's fronted by a scumbag

[ghostoffuturespast]

hey ghostie i was gna get specific for the ask game but I wanna know *all* of it now, the acronyms, the full names, all of em! are they for cyberpunk or other fandoms? no matter how much there is to know, i wanna know! talking about an idea helps a lot, i speak from experience! thanks for the mention, ill get on the wip game soon, too! ❤️

WIP Game Here

Thank you for the ask! I appreciate it :) They are all Cyberpunk 2077 things lol. I’ve largely been a lurker in other fandoms until this one, and this is the first one that finally compelled me to make stuff and that I’ve had the bravery to share. Don’t have many snippets at the moment, all of what I have so far is already out there. Since you asked for all of them though, I shall dish and give you a bit of a peak behind the curtain on how all this got started…

(I’m sorry, this got very rambly.)

And def tag me when you do yours! I will come find you and your wips! 🧡

SIG - So It Goes

(The title is based off the radio song from the game that you can listen to on Morro Rock. Never officially released and credited to the fictional band Fingers and the Outlaws in the game. Officially sung by Ryan Kattner, the front singer of the band Man Man.)

SIG is my current V/River conspiracy theory long fic that I’m working on, and the project is coming up on its two year anniversary. It’s also my first fic. I’m hoping to wrap it up this spring so I can move on to other creative endeavors. There are a lot of art projects, fandom and non-fandom related, that I’ve held off on because of this and I miss those hobbies. I also feel like I’ve been missing out a lot in the writing corner of the fandom too because a lot of new writers have popped up on the scene since I started (back when there was still a monopoly on the tag, but that’s a different story) and everyone else seems to be having fun reading everyone else’s fics, except me… Reading’s complicated for me right now. Writing this had a lot of ups and downs, but overall I’ve loved telling this story, learned a lot, and I’m really proud of it!

I think most people get into fic writing for the ships, the romance, the smut, the processing of internalized trauma, a more satisfactory ending, weird niche interests… And don’t get me wrong there’s a lot of appeal with all that, and definitely those aspects in my own work. But this whole thing got started because of conspiracy theories. I fucking love mysteries and puzzles, so after playing the sun ending and then I spotting Mr. Blue Eyes on the balcony during the conclusion of Dream On, I just about lost my damn mind. I went down the rabbit hole, spent hours reading shards and messages in the game, combed reddit theory posts, and started picking up on all the hints and foreshadowing of something larger looming throughout the game.

I initially didn’t have any answers when I made the decision to start this fic (fuck, high probability I still don’t), it was largely me brainstorming and trying to figure out what kind of story I wanted to write. Seeing if I could even piece things together. But in the process of thinking all that through, I came up with this little theory. I thought it was pretty mind blowing at the time (still think it is) but it’s been my little secret since I got here and I’m very anxious to finally share it.

Most people probably would have just written a theory post and been done with it, but I decided to turn mine into a fan fic lol. Which may or not have been a mistake, we’ll see. This is either gonna be game changing or everyone is going to think it’s dumb and I’m gonna be wearing a dunce cap for the next fifty years.

River Ward. The other half of my reason for writing this fic. I actually wasn’t sure if I liked him at first, it took me a while to warm up to him. But the more I got to know him, the more I started to like him. The more he grew on me. He got hotter over time. Plus, I’ve got a fondness for detective characters and unusual coats, so I should’ve seen it coming.

River’s gotten a lot of flak from this fandom. People claim he’s boring. He’s a cop, so acab. Being unemployed and living in a trailer park with your sister, niece, and nephews isn’t a particularly redeeming quality. I don’t agree with most of those statements, but I do agree with the folks who do appreciate his character, that in terms of development, he absolutely got shafted in the game. This fic is also an attempt to rectify that.

For as underdeveloped as his story arc was, there’s a lot of nuance to his character that I think gets glossed over by the game and most people. We didn’t get much, but out of what we did get, it’s been interesting trying to piece a story together that’s in line with what we got. And I did mention earlier that I like puzzles.

I’ve noticed that a lot of folks tend to lean very hard into the cop aspect of his character, but as far as I’m concerned, River Ward doesn’t give a shit about the law. Conducting an off the record investigation, intimidating a confidential informant, illegally obtaining evidence, breaking into a restricted lab, committing arson for your ex so she can pass a medical exam, conducting another investigation after being suspended; those are not the actions of a man who holds the letter of the law above all else. Those are the actions of man who is determined to get to the bottom of things, and protect people, all while navigating a system that is anything but equitable or fair. They are the actions of a man who is willing to go above and beyond for the people he cares about, even to his own detriment. His own safety. For River Ward, it was never about the law, it’s about justice. And pursuing that sometimes involves breaking the rules.

River is also Pomo. Which is something that was only added in subsequent patches, heavily glossed over in the game, and is only disclosed if you choose to actually romance him. But he’s Indigenous. Native American. And yet he still made a conscious decision to join the NCPD. Given the historical participation by law enforcement and government institutions in North America, and around the world, in the cultural erasure and mass genocide of entire nations, tribes, and communities of people. And given the current state of issues regarding law and judicial enforcement on tribal lands, I think River's character is a rather poignant reflection. Of wanting to good, of wanting the world to be better, but being confined in systems that simply won't allow that. There's a billion other little details I could ramble on about, but his character had the capacity to walk a very fine line of complexities which the game never really did justice to.

Diversity and representation in media are important to me, and I want this fic to reflect that. Being bi-racial, I didn’t get very much of it growing up, so if I can provide representation, even in some small capacity, I think it’s better than nothing. And while I don’t know if I’m achieving that, well, shit if I’m not trying.

I wouldn’t say this story was really meant to be original, but rather to fill in the gaps on the story we got and for me to practice writing. Practice telling a story. CP2077 is a violent game set in a violent world. And I somehow managed to start writing a story that accidentally ended up being a love letter to aikido. (Much to my chagrin. It’s everywhere. In everything. I cannot escape it.) Aikido is a martial art that translates “to the way of peace” or “the path of harmony.” Yet again, another study in dichotomies. How can a martial art, an art form designed to inflict violence, be peaceful? Aikido is as much of a martial art as it is a philosophy. We train to practice and learn that philosophy.

One of the major themes I’m exploring in this fic series is the nature of violence. What it is, the forms it takes, how cyclical it is, that it is a relationship - violence requires your participation. So the question ends up being: how do you break cycles of violence when you live in a world where you are beholden to it? V and River are very much two characters that are caught up in cycles of violence. Will they find peace? I don’t know, but maybe they can find out together.

From The Top

(This one isn’t named after a song. I just decided to start from the beginning.)

From The Top is the VP project I started up last spring where I’ve been taking storyboard style photos of all the main missions. Plus whatever else I feel like. I take all of my photos on PS5 in vanilla photomode and randomly started snapping pictures just because. I did landscape photos, shared a few. Got a bit of nice feedback from people who cared to look and then started branching out. I eventually got to the point where I started a new playthrough for the sole purpose of snapping photos.

Taking VP is very different from writing for me. I don’t have to think about. I don’t agonize about making sure every tiny detail is just right, because for the most part I don’t have very much control It’s candid, intuitive, experimental, it’s straight up play. I simply wait for opportunities to present themselves and capture whatever I think looks or feels interesting to me. It’s easy for me to walk away from it if it doesn’t do well when I post. Unlike my writing, there’s no ego attached to it.

I’m getting to the tail end of this project, I still have a couple of the base game missions to get through, but I’d also like to do Phantom Liberty as well. Not sure what my VP career is going to look like after this, might go into soft retirement. But that’s okay.

NR - Night Running

(Named after Night Running by Cage the Elephant)

Is a sleeper wip that’s currently in the notes, brainstorming, and kitchen drawer phase. It’s part 2 of my Nothing Comes Before Night City series. So It Goes is part 1.

It takes a long time for me to mull over and ruminate on ideas, so this document is largely just a repository for notes and thoughts. Jamming the utensils in the drawer until I’m ready to organize them. I have a very broad idea of what I’d like to happen in this fic, key moments I’d like to hit, but there’s still a lot of refinement that needs to happen, and stories this involved require me outlining. I do already have a running set list of songs to draw from though.

Les Preludes

(Named after Les Preludes by Franz Liszt)

Another sleeper wip, also in the brainstorming phase. These are meant to be one-shots or short stories from the Nothing Comes Before Night City series. Moments I mentioned in the series, but can’t fit into the larger story. Character studies and background lore from V, River, Johnny, Jackie, a couple of OCs and whatever else I can think of.

I will probably start casually working on these after I finish SIG and while I’m outlining NR. I’d like the series to go in chronological order. Should be fun. And I think it’ll be good practice for being more concise. Unlike, this response...

If you stuck around for this TedTalk and made it all the way to the end, thank you! 👻

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

hello sending this as an ask because its so so stupid but you are the Drifter expert so I must ask.

I was listening to 'This Too Shall Pass' by Danny Schmidt and I *think* it's pretty Drifter-coded. But unfortunately I'm still in the stage of new player where I have no idea if I'm reading canon right so I'm tossing it to you before I make another entry in the ever-growing pile of animatic wips.

I maintain I am not a Drifter expert, but I am most assuredly a Drifter enthusiast. I further maintain that any song can be Drifter-coded if you try hard enough.

But these points aside, I hunted down this song I didn't think I had ever heard before and listened... and then went… hold up…

And then I looked through all the other Drifteris playlists other people have shared with me.

Because one of the things I love about talking to other Drifteris enthusiasts or Drifter enthusiasts or Eris enthusiasts, especially writers, is they often, like me, also make playlists for one or both characters. And one of the delightful things we often do is share these playlists with each other.

So I am pleased to inform you that this is in fact a song I have heard before, despite not having remembered the artist or the title (I have an impressively bad memory). Not only do I agree it is quite Drifter-coded, you are not the first person to recommend it to me as such.

But even without this additional external validation, so much of this song and its lyrics have beautiful Drifter-esque qualities. It particularly reminds me of a ship I keep in my vault in-game, despite finding it quite ugly and one that I do not ever intend to use: https://www.ishtar-collective.net/items/drift-apart

Thank you for the delightful musical interlude. I am intrigued by the potential of your animatic WIPs and hope one day you will complete some and share them.

Song & Lyrics for anyone who is intrigued:

Things change fast But this too shall pass Better carve it on your forehead Or tattoo it on your ass 'Cause who can tell When the clock strikes twelve If today's become tomorrow Or if it's all just gone to hell My friend makes rings She swirls and sings She's a mystic in the sense That she's still mystified by things But scared to ask How can nothing seem to last 'Cause like a cancer in your body It all just goes too fast We think too big We think our self is one whole thing And we claim that this collection Has a name and is a being But deep inside When every cell divides Well, it sets upon the rule that states Self-interest is divine Cancer, too Lives by this golden rule That you must do unto the others As the others unto you All for the best 'Cause that's all the life accepts And so we kill it like a buffalo With awe and with respect Don't ask God Just holler at the sky 'Cause she'll tell it to you plainly In the clouds that whisper by And praise the shapes And then praise the way they change And they'll teach you not to pray to light Without you pray to rain So, I pray to hands And I pray to needs And I pray to blades of grass To find forgiveness in the weeds But as for health I just never did believe And so I never prayed myself Except to those that prayed for me The story goes Or the way that I was told There was a king that always felt too high And then he felt too low And so he called All the wise men to the hall And he begged them for a gift To end the rises and the falls And here's the thing They came back with a ring It was simple and was plainly Unbefitting of a king Engraved in black Well, it had no front or back But there were words around the band that said "Just know: this too shall pass"

[tossacointoyourarchivist]

alright it's time i've made my contribution to the tags i regularly occasionally troll: here is a snippet of some sweet zevlor/oc sort-of-action

MDNI. yes i am using the biggest font to make that clear.

content warnings: talk of disability and chronic pain, blatant lack of understanding D&D lore; minor dom/sub dynamic, technically NSFW but it's just a lil at the beginning to set the scene (LMAO); my tav is a human monk named winnie and they're in their mid twenties. winnie is also AFAB and uses they/them pronouns; this is hella un-edited and i can't wait to see all the typos and half-written sentences i'll find after i hit 'post'

word count: 856 words (this excerpt... don't ask how long the "one-shot" is in its entirety)

really this is just me waxing poetic about an idea i've had about magical mobility aids. i love tattoos and have chronic back pain. i modeled winnie's spinal/pain issues after my own because i stopped taking testosterone and now i have pain flare-ups with my period. yay.

fic title is from the song "traveling at the speed of light" by joywave. it feels very appropriate for them idk go listen to it it's so good

working title: i don't know how long i've been alone

(subtitle: let's reacquaint and show that something's gotta give now)

His nails press slightly into the flesh of Winnie’s rear and a dark chuckle rumbles in his chest, “Let’s make use of that bed, shall we?” he asks and- hells, with his grip on them, he pulls Winnie’s heated center into the growing bulge in his trousers. They gasp and twitch in his hold, digging their fingers into his shoulders. 

“Gods, please,” they breathe into his neck, delighted to feel his responding sigh. It’s just a few steps from where Zevlor stands to the edge of the bed and Winnie thinks back to the very first lewd thought they had about him.

'I want to show him how much trouble I can give him.'

He takes one step forward and Winnie places a kiss under his ear, and after the next footfall echoes through the room they nip that same spot, laving their tongue over the little bite. It isn’t nearly enough to leave a mark on the tiefling’s skin, but it does make him stutter, drawing a strangled groan from his throat where Winnie leaves another gentle love bite.

In no time, he tips Winnie down onto the bed and bites back a growl. He kisses them deeply, swallowing their moans and relishing in the sad little noise Winnie makes when he pulls away.

“Be good for me, sweetheart, we’ve waited so long for this. We’ll have time to play like that later,” he purrs and Winnie settles, though he doesn’t comment on the occasional tremble.

The lovers remain like this for a time, sharing kisses and touches with cautious exploration. Winnie sighs as Zevlor’s forked tongue tastes them; gods how they missed this. For only a night, Winnie knew the taste and feel of his mouth on their own; that night in the grove followed them for the remainder of their journey. Their heart feels too full, like they can barely breathe through it.

Winnie melts into the mattress, burning under his heat in the best way possible when he guides them by the loose hold he maintains on their hair. Each sensuous slide of lips and tongue serves to stoke the fire within them, until deft fingers reach for the tie in the front of their wrap top. 

This was unavoidable, Winnie tells themself. He was going to see it one way or another, so they might as well make the best of the situation. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t trust him, but anxiety fills them, still.

But Zevlor notices their hesitation and pulls back from the kiss, concern etched on his beautiful Infernal features, “Would you prefer to not remove this?”

Winnie shakes their head, “It- It’s not that, I just… Here,” they shakily untie their top, ignoring Zevlor’s gentle protests. And then he falls quiet, his eyes landing on the peculiar tattoos on their body.

If Winnie had been wearing nothing else underneath the top, he would’ve been too distracted to notice but a band of thin fabric preserves his fortitude for now. He’s known that Winnie has tattoos, but the moonflower on their hand was the only one he’d seen in detail. He examines the lines on their shoulder, how they wrap around the joint as if it were an imitation of a sling or supportive device. It occurs to him then, what the tattoos are: a mobility aid made of enchanted ink. He traces one thick line that wraps around their elbow and back up their arm, feeling the raised skin left behind by the process. 

The first time he’d seen tattoos like these, Zevlor was a fresh recruit with barely a week of service under his belt. In passing, he’d heard of a marshall doing everything he could to put off a final mission, including such tattoos inked onto his hand and knees. But that man had been as old as Zevlor is now- he’d never seen these on someone so young.

He cautiously asks, “Was this an injury?”

Winnie takes a deep breath, “I’ll tell you the whole story later, but no, not an injury. My spine didn’t develop correctly- these tattoos help straighten my spine and relieve some of the pain that comes with it.” They don't mention how their spine still curves where it shouldn't, however minimized. They don’t say anything about their tilted hips and shoulders, or how their breasts are noticeably different sizes in their eyes, or the jagged, pale red lines marking how their body changed so quickly in less than a decade. Those things he can see for himself and Winnie grips tightly to what shreds of their pride remain.

Winnie shivers as his fingers continue to trace the ink up their arm until his hand cups the back of their neck. Would he look at them differently for this, they wonder; the flash of grief was undeniable but he surprises them altogether not by speaking, but acting.

He presses a warm kiss to the inside of their elbow and another, and another, until he’s kissing the space where shoulder meets neck. His fingers caress the side of their waist, making them shiver again but he doesn’t venture downward- or upward for that matter. Instead, he touches them for the sake of feeling their skin under his fingertips, to ground them in the moment. 

[readwritedrawrecordrepeat]

Well... That's That! (Well, it WAS that earlier this week...)

I'm a bit disappointed that Deep Cut didn't even get any points, first of all. As much as I loved the EXECUTION of the collab, I think it wasn't a great time to implement it, since Deep Cut haven't gotten nearly the same amount of quality screen time as the other two bands. Even if they did the collab in the fourth game, I think that would have been better, since it would have given Deep Cut a fighting chance to stand on their own and make the collab more rewarding.

But that's... all I really have to complain about in terms of Grandfest, because my GOSH was it amazing! I've already made other posts talking about it, but I can't get over the aesthetics. From the Jellyfish tents to the food trucks to the merch stands, it all felt like a proper music festival. The atmosphere was wonderful, and while I haven't been to a music fest myself, something tells me they got the vibes down pat. I also think the use of the fog machines was pretty clever to get the models moving around the stage AND keeping Deep Cut's shadows when they begin either Anarchy Rainbow or Till Depth do us Part. And as someone who has watched the real-world performances to the point I've memorized a good 80 percent of them beat for beat, I loved that they used the live remixes AND the live choreo! Not to mention salvaging Color Pulse '24! AND THE TRI-COLOR SHOUTS. MY GOSH, THE TRI-COLOR SHOUTS. I have been listening to the Deep Cut one regularly it is insanely catchy.

Three Wishes was wonderful live. That's all I can say on that. It was so cute how some platforms would float into the back, like they were shouting out the jellies that couldn't get up to the front. I've been to a few concerts, and I always love it when the artist moves to the people in the back rows!

The skybox for the sunrise was lovely, and I realized that aside from the Octo Expansion, we haven't seen a sunrise in the Splatoon world until now. Made me feel a bit emotional, honestly. I spent a good 50 percent of my play time watching the performances and syncing up with the jellyfish.

I was sort of worried during the final dialogue that it would be too generic, since it started off as such, but then it moved to something far more wholesome. Again, I think it would have been stronger if we actually... knew... more about Deep Cut (I still love them, though!), and nothing will beat the iconic "You know I love you," but it was still very cute.

And now, I shall stay true to the team I chose and look into... THE FUTURE!

(WooOOOooOOOooo)

First of all, I love the fact that they confirmed not 30 minutes after the results came in that we would have repeats of the special fests, which is actually something I predicted. So, even if this is the last unique theme, it's not the total final Splatfest, so maybe that's why they named it the way they did? (And maybe they'll sneak in some DLC please please pretty please with a cherry on top I'll gladly pay 20 monies if that's what it takes)

Second, it's great that they immediately implemented the Grandfest lookback future on the amiibos rather than waiting on that! Now I can go back and rewatch the performances whenever I want! I don't have any Squid Sisters amiibos, and I got Splatoon 1 after I got 2, so I never got to experience that!

And finally, I wonder what the next game will be like? I'm in the camp of people who DOESN'T want a Great Turf War focused game, just because we already know how it ends and I don't want a glorified history lesson, thanks very much. I wouldn't mind it as DLC or a side mode, but not THE main thing. That said, I DO love everyday history and old-fashioned, retro things, so I'd be down for a game that took place near the start of Splatoon's civilization, or heck, take us to the equivalent of the 70s, 80s, or 90s! Or even just make the game's setting a historical town that's been around and preserved for years. Make the idols an old married couple who don't dance much but instead play classic instruments and sing. Make 'em the honorary grandparents to everyone who lives in the town and everybody loves them. They're not bitter about the current world or longing for the good ol' days but want to watch the next generation grow up. Make them Great Turf War veterans or children who never got a proper youth/teenhood, and so want to watch this next bunch grow up happy and safe. I have given way too much thought into this, but look me in the digital eye and tell me you DON'T want an old married couple as a potential set of idols.

So yeah, I think as long as they go for an old-timey AESTHETIC, rather than proper time travel (or saving time travel for DLC), I think it'll be all fine and dandy. I hope the devs/higher ups learn from the criticisms people had about Splatoon 3 and make Splatoon 4 even better (namely by giving the developers enough time to consider and implement their more ambitious ideas, rather than cutting them off or having them rely too much on fanservice/nostalgia bait).

All in all, I think the series still has potential, and I hope Splatoon 4 improves where Splatoon 3 faltered, namely by giving everything more depth (I found a brilliant post on Twitter -- though I ended up losing it! -- that explained that Splatoon 3 was a good game, but didn't have the same level of depth as the previous ones, and that held it back. I think that's an amazing way of putting it, so if you see that person, let me know so I can give them the proper credit!) and allowing the devs to go for their more ambitious, radical ideas, rather than play it safe.

Ah well. In conclusion: more DLC please and thankie I want more of the 6 AM newscasters with hearts of gold and heads of violence

[dat-town]

not gonna miss this chance

Characters: Han Seojun & soloist!female reader

Genre: fluff

Setting: true beauty au, set a year after the tv show’s ending timeline

Summary: Your career is on the verge of ending, hence your management puts you up to do a duet with the infamous Han Seojun. You have heard too many rumours about him to keep track of and yet, none of them could have prepared you for the feelings that came with meeting him.

Words: 4.1k

Self indulgent little snippet because he deserves happiness too.

You had heard of Han Seojun before meeting him, of course you had. Everybody who was in the industry had heard of the hot trend of a Newstagram star-turned idol and his band's shining debut from a year ago. They were told to have snatched teenage girls hearts all over Korea with their good looks and soulful music. You had heard their title track and you had to admit it was nice but nice wasn't enough in a cut-throat industry like entertainment.

Look at you, starting training at twelve, debuting at fifteen and now barely twenty-one you were on the verge of becoming a thrown away doll. Once you had been called cute and the it girl of your generation and now? People were saying you got boring just because your music had matured. Gosh, you couldn't keep singing about first love like your hit song had been for the rest of your life for god's sake. Your last album had been a flop, your company had been losing money and you were still afraid that even with a year left of your contract, they would cut you. But your manager had begged them for a chance and here it was: a collaboration with the newest love of Korea.

But the thing was, Han Seojun had quite a reputation and you didn't know who to believe. Some said he was well-mannered and hard-working. Others gossiped that he was always flirting with his makeup artists and Chen claimed he had been rude to her even when he had just been a ‘nobody’. Not that you were particularly fond of Chen either but as a fellow solo female singer you were a tad bit worried how the infamous singer would treat you.

Well, standing in front of Move Entertainment, you were just about to find out. Taking a shallow breath you followed your manager's lead, bowing to the receptionist and getting into the elevator after taking your visitor's badge. You had heard the company has gone through many changes after the executives were replaced due to the revealed Seyeon scandal but everything looked expensive, shiny and new, unlike in your small agency.

“Hey, I’m Lim Heekyung, nice to meet you. Seojun will be in a minute, too,” a woman in a pantsuit walked up to you on the right floor with a confident smile as she introduced herself. She led you to a meeting room which was apparently customized for a few people only and started preparing papers. She looked excited which was a relief and nice to see, at least someone from Move Entertainment was happy for this project apparently. You were a bit afraid they would see you like a leech, trying to cling onto their new star’s popularity.

“Shall we start? Seojun is a fan of dramatic entrances anyways,” Miss Lim laughed joyfully as if it wasn’t new to her that the idol didn’t make it on time. Ah yeah, you had heard rumours saying that he had something on the company and that was why they were so lenient with him.

You sat in silence, let your manager do the talk about the collaboration project. Seojun could play the guitar, you could play the piano, apparently it was perfect for a ballad duet, though if you used instruments yourself it added to the preparations time. But luckily, there was a songwriter named Leo at the company who had already sent in a few samples specifically for Seojun, so you didn’t have to start from zero.

“Ah, I see you started without me. What did I miss?” A tall boy opened the door wide and flipped down onto the chair across you casually. He had grown into his lanky limbs and with those wide shoulders hugged by the leather jacket, helix earrings in one ear and soft brown hair brushed to one side, it wasn’t a surprise how many female fans swooned over him. But there were a lot of handsome boys in the business, just his looks – no matter how confident he was in them based on the way he carried himself – wouldn’t make a difference.

Miss Lim patiently let Seojun know about the advances and only when she mentioned your name, did the boy glance at you. His dark brown eyes had a sharp form, just as piercing as his gaze, but the cunning smile spreading over his lips softened it a bit. He looked at you as if he wanted to see through you, to figure out how he should have approached you. You expected a snarky or arrogant comment, but in the end, he just flashed a blinding smile at you, one you could see on his posters, before turning back to Miss Lim.

“What’s the schedule?” he asked simply and you both were notified about the deadline of deciding and finalizing the song, the dates of planned recording sessions and the photoshoot. Since there would be no promotion period, it all would be done within a month and half from start to finish. You were a bit relieved hearing that and leave Move Entertainment without any confrontation.

You thought you were good at masking your wary feelings since the further meetings went well and the first recording session went okay-ish. Although both of you had been a bit scolded by the producer for not putting enough feelings into your singing. He claimed that the demo sent by Leo was much more emotional which made Seojun scoff and mumble under his nose. The PD called it for a day, making you promise to practice for next time and one by one they all left. Your manager told you that he would bring the car while you refresh yourself in the bathroom, so you really didn’t expect anyone to wait for you when you stepped out of the restroom, much less Han Seojun.

"Spit it out," he bit out barely glancing your way as he leaned against the corridor’s wall.

"What?" you spluttered as you were really taken aback by his out of blue appearance and question. The guy let out a tired sigh at your obliviousness and pushed himself away from the wall just to walk up to you, towering over your height with his.

"You look at me as if I killed your hamster or something. Which rumour about me bothers you? I fucking can't keep walking on eggshells around you, especially when it's just the two of us," he tsked and you gulped at the sudden called out. You didn’t think it bothered him, or that he was considerate enough to ‘walk on eggshells around you’, you merely thought he was so distant from everybody. It was still better than what Chen had told you.

"Oh, I… nothing. It's stupid. Sorry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed for your your actions but Seojun apparently wasn’t satisfied without a real answer as he carried on:

"I didn't bully kids in high school but I threatened ones that deserved it, I didn't only get a pity chance from the entertainment, one of our makeup artists is actually one of my best friends, I'm not…"

"Chen told me you are rude and arrogant and have no respect for girls," you blurted out to stop him from speaking because you felt like you didn’t deserve to hear all that. He didn’t owe you any explanation for the way he was. You were just co-workers for a project after all, you had no place in his life, nor he had in yours, so he shouldn’t have been that bothered by your opinion but you understood that he felt uncomfortable due to your silent accusations.

Hearing your hasty interruption, the singer scoffed, a laugh-like sound leaving his mouth.

"Well, I have no respect for girls like Chen who harass my friends and turn their lives into hell just to go on a date with me," he said and it made you blink slowly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Check your facts before you go around believing such crap," Seojun stepped back with a roll of his eyes.

The whole situation made you feel made about how you acted, so you wished to apologise but it fell from your lips all too carelessly: "Sorry, I was just worried. This is my last chance, so–"

"Last chance?" the guy quirked a brow at you, curious but you quickly waved his question away.

"Nevermind, I just need this song to do well."

"Of course, it will. I'm Han Seojun, it will turn to gold under my hands," he grinned and made eccentric gestures as if he was about to do magic. You couldn't help a smile. “Or well, vocal chords.”

And turn it to gold, he did.

The rest of your recording sessions went smoother, even the previously grumpy PD complimented your for the development in your chemistry. Funny, you wouldn’t have thought that the wall pulled up between the two of you mattered that much, but at least you didn’t have a knot in your stomach, nor did you worry about every small thing you did around Han Seojun. He also acted more casual, more playful, joking around when both of you had a bit of time to take a breather. He snapped silly pictures, showed off with his height, smirked when he got too close but despite all his bravado and lowkey flirting, you believed even he wouldn’t have jeopardised his career over something like this.

Maybe that's why wrapping up the recording felt a tad bit weird: you got used to his presence, his jokes, his beautiful, deep voice that you could have fallen asleep to. Sure, sometimes he was cocky, a bit rough around the edges but he was a great singer and a fun guy. The project seemed to work out well and you loved it a lot, so you hoped the listeners would appreciate it as well.

But before all that you had one photo shoot together for the promotional pictures and the single's cover. You were grateful for the simple pastel colour background and elegant setting. The warm light latte colour and the clock in the background really fit the song's vibe. Luckily, your dress was decent and pretty as well, you didn't have to feel uncomfortable in it at least.  However, you didn’t expect that happy yelp coming from one of the makeup artists stepping into the dressing room. You turned to face the girl, wondering whether she was your fan judged by her excitement.

"Oh my! I'm so happy to finally meet you! Seojun told us about you so much!" she beamed at you which obviously took you back. Well, that you didn’t expect at all. He spoke of you to others? Ah. Apparently to the makeup artist who was most probably that certain one of his best friends he had told you about?

"Don't exaggerate, Imju, I mentioned her like what… once?" Seojun walked in on cue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to avert the topic. "How's Suho?"

You had know idea who that said guy was but after a moment or two you could breathe properly once again while listening to their chatting.

“Just the usual. He’s excited about your duet.”

“Of course, he is,” Seojun grinned, a bit snarky but you could hear the proud undertones of it. When he looked at you, you were surprised by him leaning close though as he quieted down until only you could hear it. “Don’t worry, Jugyeong is really good and just stop her if she gets too gossip-y.”

“Are you talking about me behind my back, hah, Han Seojun?” The pretty girl called Jugyeong raised her fist as if she was about to hit the idol but he just laughed it off and left you two alone when he was hurried onto the set to start with his individual shoots.

“Have you known each other for a long time?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you were seated to get your makeup from her.

“Ah, almost 4 years, I think. We went to high school together. Plus, he’s best friends with my boyfriend. Though, they are always bickering like a married couple,” Jugyeong chuckled joyfully as she started with the cushion. You closed your eyes, listening as she kept going on about the time when Seojun had been obsessed with his motorbike, getting into trouble with his mother. It was strange hearing about a whole other side of him, mama's boy but the image tugged on your mouth, making you smile even though you weren't sure you had the right to know all that. You also learned that Seojun's sister was dating Jugyeong's brother and you felt so involved with the girl's trust albeit it was your last meeting, you were sure Seojun must have only told good things about you.

Hence, you felt shy under his knowing gaze when you walked out of the dressing room. He must have known that Jugyeong couldn't shut up for the life of her, so he looked a bit uncertain, too, stretching the back of his neck, forcing a cunning smile onto his smile when you took your place next to him.

To fit the ballad's theme, the setting was a piano decorated with flowers and you were instructed to sit beside him as if you were about to play a four hands piece. As you did what you had been told, you were very much aware of the way your arms brushed, his long fingers over the keys close to yours, his smile small but genuine.

"Great, great, guys! Someone help her onto the piano and Seojun, stand in front of her," the photographer directed the next scene but before any staff members would have rushed up to you, the singer next to you shushed them.

"I can do it," he insisted as he stood up and looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded while holding your breath back before Seojun put his hands on your waist above the fluffy tulle skirt part and counting on three, he lifted you onto the lid of the beautiful instrument.

You crossed your legs, watching in awe as your pink skirt fell down on waves  but your breath hitched for an entirely different reason when you looked up, gaze meeting Seojun's feline eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look at you like that, lacking playfulness or suspicion or curiosity. He looked open, vulnerable, outright starstruck. Your lips parted meaning to ask something but your brain shut off when you heard the shutter of the camera go down and the director yelling compliments at you. It made you snap out of it and later, you blamed the evident blush on your cheeks on the makeup. Seojun blinked too, his guarded expression back in no time, finishing the photo shoot professionally, always lingering close to you, but never touching you. Even though you wouldn’t have minded.

"Hey," Seojun peeked into your dressing room just as you were about to leave, packing up, with a smile on his mouth and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. But unlike half an hour ago when he wore a fancy suit and looked at you like a prince would have looked at his princess, he acted just as casual as he looked in his denim jacket over dark tee. "Wanna grab something with me if you finished for today?"

His question took you back but first thing first you glanced towards your manager, eyes begging for permission which you had gotten with a sigh.

"Just be discreet and call me if you need me to pick you up," your manager shrugged, leaving you two alone with a knowing look that told you to be careful. You didn't need to be told though, you knew how much depended on the current public response to your image.

"Seems like a green light. Have you thought of anything specific?" you turned back to the boy with a subtle smile.

"Not really but I know a few less frequent, secluded places to avoid much talk about us," he said and you nodded, following his lead. Masks, caps and hoodies on, you barely talk on your way to the tent with the lovely ahjumma who welcomed Seojun (two heads taller than her) with a pinch of his cheeks and told you to get seated.

"Are you a regular here?" you inquire, carefully pulling down your mask since not many people are around.

"You could say that," the boy hummed letting you adjust to the place at your own pace, not pressuring you with extra reassessments about how safe it is there. Yet, he is so casual as if he wasn't afraid of a getting mobbed by Dispatch out of the blue. Not that it happened to you a lot of times but you heard stories and at such a crucial time in your career, you feared something like that more than anything.

"Do you want to come up to mine instead?" Seojun blurted out suddenly which made you wide eyed in a span of a moment as you splattered out a surprised yelp. "Come on, I don't mean anything by it. You just look really nervous being in the public," the singer said, his deep voice softening, soothing by the end and you needed to take a breather before answering. You didn't think it was so obvious but apparently you had never been a good liar with him.

In the end, you decided on going over to Seojun's place, so he asked the ahjumma to pack your food to go and you headed towards his flat a few blocks from the company. It was a small but cozy place, much softer and brighter than you expected, lots of pastels and photos of friends and family. While the boy busied himself in the kitchen, getting you plates, chopsticks and beer, you were encouraged to look around and you couldn't help but smile at his photos with not only his band members but high school friends, too. You had seen photos of his graduation with Jugyeong, then another one of his debut with her and another guy.  He was a recurring person on a lot of pictures, so you assumed that he was the so-called Suho.

"He's Jugyeong's boyfriend," Seojun affirmed as he walked up to you which you acknowledged with a hum and smiled at his photos with his sister and mother. The makeup artist was right when she said he was only tough on the outside.

"You knew Seyeon?" you whispered as your gaze shifted of a picture of three boys smiling widely into the camera. The middle one was the talented boy you had known  from the news of his committed suicide. Such a tragedy.

"Uhum. We were best friends. Him, Suho and me," Seojun nodded and without having to ask, he told you how they had gotten to know each other, what were their favourite past time activities and how they fell apart when he died. You could see he was hurting even now as he was talking about it, so you grazed your fingers against his knuckles as though to say you were there for him to listen, or whatever he needed.

Talking about his best friends and how a group of guys including someone named Chorong stuck by his side over the years warmed your heart. It was nice to know that not everyone had it as lonely as you who basically missed out on high school and memories from that time to be able to turn your dreams into reality. Your only friends were also in the industry but it made things both easier and harder.

"What about you? What did you mean by this being your last chance?" Seojun asked like a loaded gun but after everything he had just told you, you knew you could trust him with this and being in the industry for a while now, he must have understood, too.

You told him about the rising expectations, about your image and your company's ultimatum. It actually felt nice to talk about with someone other than your manager. Especially since Seojun seemed to understand exactly why you felt conflicted over the matter. You have given your youth to this dream of yours, so giving up on it would have felt like betraying yourself and everyone who believed in you but you weren't sure you could give it another 10 years of your life no matter how much you liked music. You had decent CSATs result, maybe you could have applied for a university program. Seojun even offered to arrange a meeting between you and Suho who was studying to become a proper songwriter.

You talked for hours and ate the tteokbokki even though it had gotten cold long ago and you couldn't remember when was the last time you had felt so light. You felt giddy even with just the tiny bit of alcohol in your system by the time you knew it was time for you to go.

Once you had felt relieved knowing that promoting your duet would be only one performance but recently, you started dreading the moment because that meant that you wouldn't have any more excuse to see Seojun. In the backstage, this time around you greeted Jugyeong like an old friend and teased to give Seojun a funny makeup before walking up to your  own assigned staff members. Your look was full of sparkles and glow fitting the silver colour of your dress, completing the ethereal vibe off the stage you were going to do and the beautiful song you had grown to love so much you held it close to your heart. The last rehearsals went smoothly and if you noticed Seojun's gaze lingering a bit too long, you didn't comment on it.

"Are you nervous?" he asked before the final recording and you knew it would have been unreasonable to deny it, so you replied with a small smile.

"A bit."

"Don't be. You're pretty and you'll do amazing," he reassured you and the way he said those words oh so easy. As if they were natural. As if he believed in you and maybe this was all the reassurance you needed because when you walked up onto the stage, not taking your eyes off his, it felt like it was just the two of you there. All the stress about not being good enough, about being judged for who you were and what you wanted to do with your life was subsided as you focused on the moment, just to sing this one song with one while trying to fight your heart's crazy beating.

You didn't really have the luxury to have crushes. You had always been concentrated on your work, you couldn't let yourself have distractions, especially since love scandals always affected girl worse than guy. At least that was what you told yourself for always putting up a wall around you and guarding your heart all too well. But during the past few weeks, between playful or flirty remarks, between smiles and ruffling hair, Seojun took apart your wall brick by brick even if he wasn't aware.

So it might have been only a few days since you had last seen him but in that rare moment of boredom, alone in your room, you realized that you missed him. Hell, you liked him and the feeling made me want to scream into your pillow as if you were a silly teenager. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a new message and seeing the KakaoTalk ID made you shy.

duet partner, han seo jun

so...

i've been thinking

you

sounds dangerous but ok

duet partner, han seo jun

don't get sassy with me, miss

you

what have you been thinking about?

duet partner, han seo jun

that i don't want to miss my chance

there's this girl i like

i thought of asking her out

do you think she would say yes?

you

oh. well... why wouldn't she?

i mean, you are talented, handsome, funny and reliable

duet partner, han seo jun

and what about my job? it's busy and a bit crazy

don't you think it would be unfair of me to ask?

you

I think you should let her decide that

duet partner, han seo jun

okay

are you free on friday?

you

um, sure?

duet partner, han seo jun

cool, then go on a date with me?

[works-of-fanfiction]

“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

_______________

No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

[dannythedog]

Okay real talk for a second (this talks about mental health and stuff and I'll tag it with personal and mental health just in case you want to block those tags. This is basically just a long rant about me)

I've been a fan of gvf for over a year now. Majority of this time I've been traveling to go see them in concert and it truly has been the time of my life. I'm terrified for what's gonna happen to my mental health when my last show comes and goes.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I first discovered gvf back in the summer of 2018 (My official gretaversary is July 2021 and I happened to discover them in July of 2018. Wild right?) because some of my friends in high school absolutely loved them. I listened to Highway Tune and Safari Song and did not like it at all. My music taste was basically Harry Styles and Fleet Foxes back then lol so I thought maybe if I looked at a picture of them and thought they were cute it would help. Didn't find them cute either lmao but I believe this was the universe telling me it wasn't my time yet.

Flash forward to summer of 2021 and I am now 19 (turning 20 literally two weeks later) and moving away from Michigan all the way to Wyoming. It was exciting and new, but I didn't realize how difficult it would be even though I knew I needed out of Michigan. I spent the first month getting settled but realized I was having a pretty tough time adjusting. That's when greta blew up on tiktok. I was in the height of my Queen phase and didn't think I had enough room in my heart for another band, but I could not get these funky little dudes out of my head. I finally gave in and listened to Heat Above (I was actually trying to find You're The One but I didn't know the name of the song LMAO so I got it mixed up) and I was completely blown away. I stood at my bedroom window, gazing at the mountains and practically ascending because of this song. I was hooked. I wanted to know everything about them. Once I was over listening to Heat Above every single day, I started listening to their whole discography at work and completely fell in love. This band was giving me hope that everything would be okay and that this tough transition would only be temporary.

For the next year, I would be following them all over the country, starting this blog, meeting some of the most amazing people I've ever met, and finally discovering who I want to be. Everything sounds fine and dandy, right? Wrong. I put my mental health into the hands of a band. I've become reliant on seeing them just to feel okay. I wake up in the morning and think 'only x amount of days until I see gvf!' and that keeps me going. This scares me. My last show is rapidly approaching and I am terrified that I will fall into this horrible depression because I don't have these shows to look forward to anymore. I'm in too deep. Sure seeing content is great and all, but traveling and seeing them right there in front of your face is so addicting. I haven't met a single person in Wyoming. All of my friends are through gvf or back in Michigan. This band has been giving me the social interaction I so desperately need.

I am endlessly grateful for this band and all the opportunities they have given me, but I am just so scared at what this has turned into. I want to reiterate it's not the social media part of this, it's the live stuff. The real stuff. I'm so attached to being in that crowd or gripping that rail while I have the time of my life in front of these men. I don't know what I'm gonna do

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD Vol.10 Sakamaki Reiji [Track 1+2]

Original title: 教会 & 自惚れないように

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 10: Sakamaki Reiji [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: So far, this CD is definitely the most...toned down of all of the MB CDs. Reiji seems to be more composed than his other brothers and while he has been imprisoned as well, he isn’t chained or drugged by the looks of it. I’m sure he won’t have an easy time the whole time through, of course.

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 1: THE CHURCH

*DINGー DONGー ・ DINGー DONGー*

*Rustle rustle*

[00:12] “Uu...Aah...W...Where am I…!?”

He looks around.

“T-The church…!? I must be plagued by a nightmare. Why am I here…?”

You call his name.

“...!? And...you’re here as well!? You’ve been awake? Haah...To think you woke up before me, how careless of me.”

You seem confused. 

“Eh? You want to know where we are? Can you not tell by looking around? This should be a very familiar place to you.”

You make a guess.

[01:04] “Yes, exactly. The church. This is a place where the figures you humans worship are said to reside. I cannot say I hold any interest in it. That being said, what brings us here? If I recall correctly, we were both on our way home from school. On the way…Ugh...How odd. I cannot seem to remember anything past that point. ...Do you know what happened to me? Tell me the full story. Hurry.”

You shake your head. 

[01:52] “Excuse me? You do not know? Hah! You good-for-nothing. Time after time, you fail to be useful to me, only ever causing me trouble. Even if you may not be the brightest, if you do not start using your brain a little, soon, you really will be nothing but an airhead. Well, I know am merely wasting my energy by expecting anything from you. 

[02:22] ...However, this is rather unsettling. My memory is vague, but I am certain I spotted multiple human figures. While I am not sure who those people were, I have a fairly good guess.”

*Rustle*

“Still, if this is nothing but a malicious prank, I wish they would have come up with a more clever idea.”

You raise a brow. 

[02:49] “Eh? You want to know who is pulling this prank on us? ...There is no point in telling you. You would never be able to understand after all. Either way, it may be some sort of trap. Let us proceed with caution. Listen closely. You shall not move from that spot. Stay put until I give you permission to move.”

You nod. 

[03:20] “After all, a foolish human who fails to heed my command, would only be digging their own grave. Be careful. ...And I am well aware that you are the ultimate fool. I am warning you to ensure you will not bring harm upon yourself. ーー Personally, I do not care if you were to take your final breath here, but I simply do not want to bother with the clean-up afterwards. However, I must say, this is a very fitting place for a foolish human such as yourself to meet their end. Fufufu…”

TRACK 2: TO PREVENT CONCEIT

Reiji walks around the church.

*CLATTER CLATTER*

“Hm...So it is a special door after all. I doubt it will be easy to open it. I do not see myself being able to break it either.”

*CLATTER*

He continues pacing around.

[00:24] “That being said, to think they would imprison a Vampire inside a Church...What a childish prank. Even though we do not bat an eye at holy water, let alone crosses.”

*Rustle*

“If I were to be the one who set up this situation, I would have definitely included a trap somewhere. If our opponent...is somewhat slow-witted like you over there, it would be an entirely different story, of course.”

He finishes his observation.

[00:58] “As of now, I have yet to spot anything suspicious or out of place. If there is a trap to speak of…”

He turns around.

“It could be either this place itself…”

*Rustle*

“Or you, pathetically laying there on the floor.”

Reiji walks over to you.

[01:23] “Did you remain still as I told you to? ...Aah, just as I thought. Honestly, you are unbelievable. Did I not tell you that you had to stay put?”

You insist that you did so.

“So why has the hem of your skirt moved up? This shows that you moved around.”

*Rustle*

“Come on, you should not move just yet. Even if it tickles, you should not flinch. Do as I say.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Even if I were to caress your cheek like this, or kiss you…”

*Rustle*

[02:14] “I am sure it would be child’s play to lay a trap on someone as careless as yourself. I can tell. ーー By your scent, that is. ...Hah. Because it seems like the people who locked us in here are of my kind. They are Vampires. There are plenty of those who hold some sort of grudge against the Sakamaki family, so I can only assume they fall under that category. Good grief...It is rather troublesome. Our bloodline rules above the Demonic creatures. In the struggle for power and authority, there are quite a few clans who have met a horrible end at our hands. 

[03:09] I wonder why. Why do us creatures who attach very little meaning to being alive, feel the need to band together in groups to attain status and authority as a way to survive? I think it is utterly ridiculous.”

You frown.

[03:28] “Nevertheless, I am still a member of the Sakamaki household. I will not stand and watch as peace is being destroyed. Haah...Your cheeks resembles a ripened peach right now. I doubt you have noticed yourself, but did you perhaps allow someone else to have their way with your body?”

You protest.

[04:01] “You do not know, you say? I see. You might have just been able to deceive my dumb brothers, but you cannot fool my eyes.”

*Rustle rustle*

He takes in your scent.

[04:19] “Through smell and...Yes, my senses are telling me that is the case. Well, intuition aside, I doubt another Vampire would be able to withhold from sucking your blood when you are within their reach. After all, the blood pumping through your veins is as sweet as fruit juice. I am sure you would also be tempted to dig in when such a feast is laid out in front of your eyes, no?”

You hesitate. 

[04:59] “In other words, the reason you are so eagerly sought after by Vampires is all part of an instinctive reaction. So please do not assume that any of us hold any sort of personal preference towards you. Do not get ahead of yourself now.

You frown.

[05:18] “With people like you, they need a reminder every now andor then or they let things get to their head. You are quite the handful after all. I am warning you beforehand for your own sake. After all, you are not at risk of having your dreams shattered, if you simply do not dream to begin with. (1) You should be grateful to me. Either way, I have to investigate. Your body, that is. There should be a mark left behind somewhere. To make your own existence known to me.”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says that one cannot fall down, if you never go up.

[yutahoes]

3Bs Project #1: (Biyoushi)

3Bs are known as the three male professions that women should avoid to date in Japan: a biyoushi (hairstylist), a band member, and a bartender.  

pairing : hairstylist! Yuta Nakamoto x homebody! Reader

word count : 3.3k words

genre : angst, fluff, a little crack because of Ten

summary : Your bestfriend dragged you to a hair salon because of a blind date. Who would have known that you’ll fall for the hairstylist? 

taglist:  @ailoveyuta @aiforyuu @yutazen01 @2-3-t-i​ @cosmiclatte28  @readers-posts @ytzvivi @onefoureightfive     

This is supposed to to be one of the fics I write the Spring Fling event from one NCT network but things happened at home that I can’t write anything. I also feel bad for not posting any scenarios these past few days so please accept this apology even if it’s late.  

"I don't want to."

"Y/N, you needed this." Your bestfriend, Ten, sighed. "All you do is stay in your room all day. You need to go out, have a life." 

You rolled your eyes at that. You're happy staying inside your room, the scent of coffee and old page books tingling your senses. The life that you're comfortable with. "When was the last time you went on a date with someone?" 

"I'm not interested." 

"I didn't say anything." You stared at him, eyebrows raised. You knew him like the back of your hand, it must be another guy he's setting you up with. "Okay okay, but he's nice. You'll be a great match." You shook your head at that. 

The last time he introduced you to his friend, you became the mess you are today. "Come on, please. I told him that I'm introducing him to someone, please save me." 

"Don't you have any female friends?" 

"You're my favorite." You had to smile at that. You knew Ten wouldn't harm you, even apologizing profusely for what his friend did to you. "Please, Y/N." 

You breathed heavily then nodded. Here goes nothing. 

--

Ten suggested that you should do something about yourself first. You had taken decent baths, what does he mean by that? "When was the last time you had a salon appointment?" He asked, holding your hair. You shrugged, you haven't really thought about it. "This won't do. Let's get you a haircut." 

That's honestly not bad so you went with him to this hair salon owned by his friend. The interior was really pretty, a seemingly calming place. Maybe you'll get your salon appointments here from now on. Your friend talked to someone inside the salon and you waited, sitting on the couch. All this trouble because of a blind date. Ten might be introducing you to some hotshot. 

The curtains opened as your friend called you inside, gesturing to a chair for you to sit. "I already talked to Yuta about what to do to you. Just trust him." Should you? You cannot trust Ten but you feel bad that he's doing this much for you.

A guy your age, with shiny black hair, went out of the other side of the curtain with hairdressing tools on a cart. You thought Yuta is a girl, surprised he is a guy. He's going to do your hair? "Yuta, this is Y/N. Baby, this is Yuta. He styles my hair and he's amazing in his job." The other man smiled warmly and you have to note that he looks handsome. "I'll leave you to him. I have to get you some clothes." 

You called for your friend's name but he was already out of the curtain you went in earlier. You sighed then sat up properly when the guy pushed the cart with tools beside you. "Hi." he greeted, sitting on a stool behind you. Your eyes met on the mirror in front and you gave him a timid smile. "A blind date?" 

You nodded. How did he know that? Did Ten tell him? "We have to charm the guy you're going to see, don't we?" Again, you nodded with a smile. "What style do you want with your hair?" 

"I'm honestly not sure." You whispered, realizing that you must have thought about this before going here. "Is it rude if I ask you to just do what you want with my hair?" He chuckled before shaking his head. "You can cut it or even color it." 

He held your hair and you felt yourself tingle at the gentleness of his touch. "Your hair feels silky. I want to color it but we don't have time." He mumbled, "I'll just layer your hair and do some curls." You nodded, it's his craft and he knows what he's doing. 

Ten was right, you just have to trust him. 

His hands felt light in your hair, the sound of the scissors occupying the silence along with the faint music from the radio. You saw how your hair changed drastically in every snip and when he styled your hair using the curling iron, you only gasped. You look different and it's just a simple haircut. 

"Wow, you look…" Ten gasped as Yuta removed the black cloth covering your body from the hair he cut. "That's some real magic, Yuta."

He shook his head, staring at you. "She's pretty, to begin with." You felt a blush on your cheeks as he said those words. He stood in front of you, twirling a curled hair. "If your date goes well, would you like to color your hair pink? It will look nice." 

You nodded, wanting to color your hair instead of the date to go well. 

Damn it. You don't even want to go on a date but now, you want this date to go well so you can color your hair and meet the hairstylist again. 

So you listened patiently to this hotshot guy, that is supposed to be Ten's friend, yap about his trip abroad and that you should go out of the country to live your life. All night, he kept on saying things about himself not even bothering to ask you a question. He even ordered cheesecake for you, which you do not even like, wanting the carrot cake. Instead of driving you home with his Maserati, he asked you to take a cab. 

And then he ghosted you. No message, no call. Nothing. You kind of expected it but maybe, you aren't meant to date someone. 

You ruffled your hair in annoyance, a strand of hair falling in front of your face. Maybe you should reinvent yourself. Try again. Be a rebel. Live your life. 

You'll color your hair pink. 

You don't even know how to ask Ten about the hair salon's number to get an appointment so you just went to the said salon and hoped that it isn't that busy. That Yuta is there to help you. 

A young man was in the reception, asking you what you need and if you have an appointment. "No, I don't." You answered then smiled. "I'll just come back…" 

The curtains opened and Yuta came out with an older woman next to him. He gave you a smile before facing the woman who held his shoulder, sliding a hand down on his arm. "Thank you, darling. I'll see you soon." Yuta thanked her and she took some cash from her purse to pay, even giving Yuta some more cash that surprised you. That's a huge tip. Is Yuta just a hairstylist? 

"You're back," he said when the older woman left the shop and you nodded. "You're finally coloring your hair?" You nodded. "It will take some time though, do you have anything else to do after?" 

"No. But I haven't had an appointment so…" 

"It's fine. We're closing anyway." It makes you feel bad. He's staying extra hours just for you. "Haechan, you can go first. Just close the door when you leave, I'll lock up after this." 

The younger nodded. "Hyung, there are CCTVs here. Just a reminder." 

"I know, you punk." He said before turning to you, "Shall we?" Shall you? Why are you suddenly nervous? He told you to sit on the chair facing the mirrors. "So, pink?" You hummed in response. 

"I can just go back tomorrow if you want." 

"You're already here. And please, just tonight, can you save me from loneliness?" Your eyes widened at that. What? "No, that sounded wrong." He said with a giggle. "I just don't want to go home early to an empty apartment." 

So he lives alone? No wife? No girlfriend? But of course, you cannot ask that. It would be weird. 

Yuta sat on the stool behind you, mixing something from a plastic bowl. "So the date went well?"

You sighed then shook your head. Why does he have to remind you of that? He put some chemical in your hair, "What happened?" He's curious? Even Ten didn't ask you what happened. "If you're comfortable telling me." But then, maybe he can tell you what's wrong with you. He's a guy after all. 

So you told him about what happened, that he's a nice guy but he seemed so high for you. He's so accomplished that you feel like a potato next to him. "Did he call you?" You shook your head then stopped, apologizing for your action. "He's a jerk. If he doesn't like you, he should say something. Not make you wait. That's such a dick move."  

You giggled. Why is he so angry? "I hope you don't feel bad about yourself. You deserve more than that stupid excuse for a guy." Again, you laughed. He had his way with words. He might be a ladies' man. 

"I'm done with the dating thing." You mumbled. "It's more fun to stay at home."

"Then your pink hair will be useless."

It was one of the decisions that you didn't regret. Yuta was right, the pink hair does look good. It doesn't look awkward than what you imagined and you thanked him repeatedly for the new look. He shook his head, pushing the loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "It suits you because you're pretty." 

Damn, why is he like this? You could feel your heartbeat wilding in your chest. "It's late. I'll walk you home." Your eyes widened in surprise. He'll walk you home? He started fixing the things he used while you think of something, anything just to not let him walk you home. 

"You don't have to walk me home. I'll just take the bus."

"Then let me just walk you to the bus stop." You nodded, waiting for him and seated on the couch by the reception. It is truly dark, did it really take a long time for her hair to turn pink? When you heard the light switch gets turned off, you stood up and Yuta went out from the other side of the curtain wearing a different shirt, a faint smell of musky cologne hitting your nose. "Let's go." 

You nodded then followed him to the door which he opened for you. The walk was kind of short but you were thankful that he's gentleman enough to walk to the dangerous side of the road. "How many stops before you get home?" 

"Five stops then a little walk." 

Yuta nodded, thinking deeply. "An hour tops." He whispered that made you look at him. He took out his phone, handing it to you. "Put your number in, I'll message you." This is weird. "If you're not home after an hour, I'll call the cops." You giggle at that, handing back his phone which had your number in. He called your number and it vibrated on your pocket, "Or message me if you got home." 

The bus is approaching yet you don't want to leave. Yuta is so charming, it's crazy. You like talking to him. "Thank you, Yuta." You said while standing up, watching as the bus opened the doors.

"Take care, Y/N." He said in the softest yet audible voice possible.

It was when you sat on the bus when you realized things. He makes your heart flutter. He's such a gentleman. And he listens to you. You like a guy like him.

You like him. 

You saw your reflection from the dark window amidst the city lights. This is just you. You'll never be enough for him. He's perfect. You shouldn't keep your hopes up. You saw a strand of pink hair on your shoulder and gasp, you didn't even pay him. Quickly, you typed in a message apologizing that you forgot to pay him or give him a tip and even saying that you'll just send the payment online or tomorrow. 

A reply came quickly, 'It's fine. Thank you for letting me play on your hair.' 

You giggled. Play? The color is really pretty and it’s just playing for him? He is amazing. 'I'm sorry. I'll pay you, I promise.' 

'No worries, Y/N.' Another one, 'But can you not give up on dating yet? Go on dates, make boys cry. You deserve it.' 

Go on dates? He wanted you to go meet other guys? And you thought there's something special between the two of you. Maybe it's just you. 

Why is this more heartbreaking than that guy from the blind date not calling you back? 

'I will. Thank you again, Yuta.' You closed your phone, sighing hard. 

You do like him. 

----

"Y/N, wakey wakey." Ten sang, opening the door of your room and you covered your head with the blanket. "Oh, you colored your hair pink. It looks good." He complimented, sitting on your bed. 

You groaned. It's still early. "It's been two days." 

"And your phone is unreachable." He grabbed your phone from the bedside table, opening it to reveal endless pings and missed calls. "Yuta? The hairstylist Yuta? Yuta Nakamoto?" You didn't know that Yuta is Japanese, he's so fluent in the language. And why is Ten reacting like that? Your phone vibrated, followed by a ringtone for calls. "Yuta is calling."

But before you could get your phone, Ten already clicked the phone and from the speaker, you can hear the worry in Yuta's voice. "God, Y/N. What happened to you? Are you kidnapped or something? Hey, can you answer? Should I call the police?" 

Ten gave you a knowing look but you just shook your head. "Hi, Yuta." He greeted and the said guy stopped then asked who it was. "It's Ten." You heard a breath of relief on the other line. Why is he shaking you like this? "Y/N?" You don't want to talk to him yet so you gestured for Ten to cut off the call by moving your finger across your neck. "She's dead." 

"What?" You slapped Ten's arm before getting the phone from him, transferring it to handset mode. "What do you mean she's dead? Ten!" Why does he sound so angry? 

"Yuta." You called and he stopped. "It's Y/N. Ten is just being stupid." The other guy rolled his eyes at that.

"Hey." There was a softness in his voice when he said that word. "I was worried. What happened?" 

I like you. And it doesn't seem like you like me too. So I have to guard my heart, that's what happened. "I got sick. Sorry." 

"Are you feeling any better now? Do you want anything?" Your stomach felt sick at that, like little butterflies fluttering their wings inside you. Why is he like this? "You should rest. I'm sorry for calling you, I'm just worried." 

"Thank you." You don't want to say anything. You might blow your cover. And before he could say anything else, you dropped the call. You lie on your bed once again, covering yourself with a blanket. Why does this have to happen to you? You were having a quiet life. Now, he's shaking you up like this. 

Ten pulled the blanket away from you. "You like him, don't you?" You nodded, tears springing from your eyes. He doesn't seem like he likes you too. You told him about the older woman while sobbing in his arms and how he listens to you. How your heart misbehaves when he's near and how you can feel the butterflies inside you because of his voice. "They were right when they said that it's hard to date a hairstylist. They usually have female customers but it's their job." He explained and you nodded. "Should I ask Yuta? I'm going to the salon today anyways."  

You shook your head. This your own feelings, you can take care of it. "But can you just send him my payment for the hair color?" 

"You didn't even pay for it?" 

-----

It's been days since the last call from Yuta and every time you can see the pink strand of your hair, you can't help but wonder what he is doing. Is he also thinking about you? You sighed, that was a stupid question. Of course not. Why would he? 

And it's frustrating to know that you were heartbroken by a guy who was never yours in the first place. More reasons to stop yourself from dating. 

You saw your phone blinked, a message from Ten 'Come to Moon Cafe, 2 pm.' 

You rolled your eyes, another blind date. 'Please Y/N. I'll stop if he's not the right guy for you.' Why is he so sure of this? 

'And he's begging me to have this date with you.' What? He was the one who wanted to date you? 

You were hopeful. Maybe this is it. But damn it, this can lead to another heartbreak. 

You were curious. Who is this guy? The waitress welcomed you, asking for a reservation and you said your name, "Your date is here." Already? Your hands were sweating as you followed her to the table where your date is. A mop of black hair is all you can see before you stop in front of a table. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. Yuta. "Hi." he greeted, standing immediately. The waitress said that she'll be back with the menu as he slid the chair for you to sit on.

"Wait. You?" You asked when he sat opposite you, napkins in front of him. 

He nodded then handed you the paper bouquet made from the napkins. "I didn't know if you liked flowers so this is safer. I'll just buy you one later if you want." You shook your head. This is cute. He sighed, a heavy breath as if relieving some nerves. "I'm sorry. I kinda asked Ten for help just to see you."

So this isn't a date. Maybe he's just worried about you. You were right, this can lead to a heartbreak. But you're happy that it was still Yuta. "I like talking to you, Y/N." You stared at him in surprise. What? "I like hearing your stories, especially your voice." Is this some kind of a fever dream? "And I deeply regret that I didn't get to walk you home that night. I mean, I don't have a fancy car but I really want to spend time with you." 

You gasped. Is this all true? Yuta is saying those words to you? "But please, don't be burdened. This is just my feelings, I can take care of it." You were thankful for the waitress bringing in the menu that you hid your face with the object, promising to kill Ten the next time you see each other. "Y/N, what do you want?" He's asking you what you want? 

"The cheesecakes are our…" 

Yuta shook his head, "She doesn't like cheesecakes." He listens. 

A smile crept on your lips as you told the waitress that you wanted the strawberry cake. Yuta ordered a carrot cake, the cake that you were craving back at the blind date. He's listening. The guy gave you a warm awkward smile when the waitress left the table, "I like your hair." 

Weird. You just let your hair down today. If you just knew that you're going on a date with a hairstylist, you should have paid more attention to how you look. You smiled, leaning closer to the table. He was right, you should go on dates. "Then, Yuta, can I make you cry?" 

He smiled, nodding at you. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you." 

"I like you too, Yuta." 

Once again, he smiled. The smile that made your heart beat rapidly in your chest. The smile that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. The smile that makes you weak in your knees. 

Damn it! You're in love. You're going to marry this guy.

This is definitely the last time Ten introduces you to someone. 

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie finds himself in a party thrown in a finishing school that teaches ladies how to be proper in all senses of the world but a rare jewel of a wild young woman catches his eye.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?”

Gold and silk.

It’s on the walls, coated in layers of sparkly paint as light reflects to the silk curtains. It’s on the tables, dozens of champagne bottles resting on top of the finest silk material while the sweet classical music fills the marble walls. The place reeks of the posh and their extravagant perfumes.

Alfie’s forcefully brought to the occasion.

Miriam, the old woman who’s appreciative of Alfie’s donations to the community, had decided that it was time for the man to make more public appearances. She’d forced the grumpy man into the crowd and the fancy outing as a way of branching out to the rest of the community for the Jews.

The night is organised by a bunch of English community elders for the new women’s school opened up right around the corner. It’s easy to recognise their pupils, all of them dressed properly as they greet as many guests as they can. Young ladies are all over the room, their lavish dresses flowing around their legs as they flash their kindest smiles to the people around.

Except you.

Accident, fate or bad luck. It was one of the three that had caused you to end up in the said school. Apparently, you weren’t a proper lady and also happened to lack the ability to act your age, or so you had been told after climbing a tree with your friend to get your hands on the fruit it so graciously had blessed you with.

It didn’t bother you in the slightest but there you were now, standing in a room full of bourgeoisie in a slim dress tailored by one of the maids who worked for the house you stayed in. Unlike all your other classmates, your face is absent of any smiles and the only thing that leaves your lips are snarky remarks.

Annabelle, who also happens to be your etiquette teacher, pinches your arms every now and then to either get you to act properly or to shut you up but it doesn’t work. You know her harsh movements are bound to create bruises on your arms but you don’t care, you hate every moment of the forced event.

You’re the odd one out, naturally.

Although you’re dressed properly with fine jewels and silk gloves, your fake laugh does not fill the air. You’re sulking, almost, as you listen to one of the elderly man talk about his business to your friends and you while you stand around. 

The crowd is made up of women with rich men on their arms, just what your uncle wanted you to be when he had put you in the school two months ago. They’re wearing their finest dresses, most of their hairs are kept in a short form as they plaster smiles on their paint covered faces, nails painted with vibrant colours while they laugh at a stupid joke the rich makes.

And there’s him.

He doesn’t stand out per se, just when you manage to observe him for a while. He’s wearing a suit much like everyone else in the room but there’s something rough about him, something rugged as you stare at the broad man. He has an elderly woman on his arm, she’s talking his ear off while his eyes roam around the spacious room. 

You don’t look away when his blue orbs meet yours.

He’s watched you all night and although you’d been sulking for most of the time, he still thought that you were the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long while. He’d seen you make smart remarks towards some of the gentlemen, putting them in their place before you would walk to the bar to get some relief.

But this time, there’s a gentle smile on your lips.

He feels his breath get caught on his throat but he’s quick to recover while your gaze returns to the boring old man in front of you. Your dress is similar to the ones the girls are wearing but it hugs your body a little tighter, a fine pearl necklace graces your neck. Your hair is not short, opposed to most of the women around, but kept in wavy shape as it creates a frame around your soft features.

You seem like the youngest of them all.

But you also happen to be the wildest. In the last two months of you being there, all you’d caused was trouble. You’d not sleep and climb out of windows to disappear for a day or two. Your uncle would bring you back with a frown on his old face but you’d find a way to make trouble and piss the ladies off again. It was the only fun thing to do around the house you were kept in.

“It was very lovely to talk to you about your boring business.” you speak to the elderly man who’d been talking for the past hour with you and your friends, a smile rests on your painted lips. The man frowns at your words and is about to speak up when you wave at him and disappear towards the bar once again.

Alfie watches you as you move.

Your painted lips that had just been faking a smile now greet the transparent material of the crystal that holds the liquor you so badly need. You take a couple sips, a sheepish smirk on your lips as you feel someone approaching you from behind. You can tell who it is, his steps aren’t the most subtle or rhythmic.

Your small figure turns around swiftly turns around to face the pleasant stranger, a contagious smile on your lips as you look at him from head to toe. He sees the glint of wickedness swimming around in your orbs and he’s sure you’re the girl every cockney has been trying to get their hands on.

Alfie’s heard of a young woman who just won’t behave. As far as he’s concerned, most people think she should be married off to some boring bloke but the uncle won’t let them do it and he’s the only family she’s got. He’s heard of the wild dancing, the kind of moves that are nothing but filth and also the countless times of the escapes she’s made.

And there you are, the infamous wild lady, standing right in front of him.

“Hello, Mister.” you say, amused as you giggle at him. He copies your expression, a low smile on his lips while you feel his smell take over you, vanilla and rum.

“’ello to yourself, Miss.” he speaks, accent dripping from each word as you watch him, he’s even more handsome up close.

Your eyes drift along his tall form, he’s still tall even though you have your heels on. Your gaze lingers on his white shirt, it’s not as smooth as it was when he came in, or so you figure. He’s dressed sharp, his facial hair kept in a nice shape as the golden wires glisten underneath the many candles and chandeliers around. You don’t bother and be subtle as your eyes drink him but he’s doing the same to you.

You chuckle lowly as he takes a sip of the drink you’re holding, it’s much too strong but you’re only getting started.

“You, yeah, are makin’ quite the noise today.” he speaks, not a swear word within the sentence since he’s being proper for the occasion.

“As per usual.” you say, a sweet smile on your lips while you lean on the wall and he hovers tall above you, his face inching a little closer each time he speaks. “Interested?” you speak, wanting him to say yes because he seems to be the only one worth spending time with around here.

“I ain’t answering to that, love.” he says, head shaking at his own words and you watch him under the pleasant light as they create shadows around his face, he’s far too good looking for a bloke with his reputation.

Your eyes drop to his hand, decorated with lines and bands of rings and a crown tattoo, the rough skin makes you smile as your soft fingers trace his. His eyes flutter, the slow song filling the night and flowing out of the spacious house you’re both standing in. You blink a few times, seeing the glint of thrill in his eyes as you stare and stare, the night is long.

But your patience is non-existent.

“You’re no fun, Mister.” your words are barely audible as they leave your lips and he knows you’re teasing, his eyes flutter once more as a small whine leaves your lips and it’s all it takes for him to be envisioning your naked frame, although he’s already done it multiple times up until that point.

You try to be sweeter, appeal to his good nature to get what you want. You know that if a lady from the school is to leave today, with a gentlemen on her arm, it is allowed and you see it as your exit ticket to never return to the hell of a place. Your hands trace the head of his cane, feeling the cold material contrast the warmth of his hands. “What shall I call you?” you ask, danger swimming in your orbs.

“Name’s Solomons, luv.” he speaks, knowing that he needs to be proper and that means saving his name for the more intimate part of the conversation but you don’t seem pleased with the consideration from his part.

“No.” you speak, like a whiny girl and he thinks you’re the most charming whiny girl he’s seen but he waits for your painted lips to part and the sound of your sweet voice. “I knew that. Tell me what you like to be called.” you speak, voice smooth as silk as it delivers the words. He wonders what your voice would sound like if his head was between your soft legs.

There’s evident evil in your eyes but he’s drawn to it, like moth to a flame.

You half expect for him to tell you something absurd. This isn’t something you ask other people but in the rare occasion that you play with fire, the answers have been nothing but disappointing. They’d told you to call them baby, husband or sweetheart.

How pathetic, you thought.

“Alfie.” he speaks, voice low as his eyes don’t leave yours. A smile finds your lips and he stops himself from leaning in and kissing them.

“That’s a very good name.” you speak, satisfied for the first time in a while with a man’s answer. They seem too dull to you, most men are shallow and simply daft but this one seems to shine on you. 

“Fuckin’ flattering old me.” he speaks, amused as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You’re far too young for him but that doesn’t seem to occur to you as you ogle him.

“Old?” you speak into his face, your perfume surrounding him as you play with his crisp shirt. He’s close to kissing you senseless but he figures Miriam wants him to act proper for the event. “I don’t think so.” you speak again, answering your own question and he watches the light flicker on your face.

“What is a pretty little bird like you doin’ in the corner?” he speaks, breath almost fanning your face while you almost lose yourself in the smell of him. He seems promising thus far.

You look up at him with an open mouth, seeing as he’s interested. Your agape mouth turns to a smile soon after, this victim of yours seems like a proper gentlemen. The truth was, you didn’t really belong there from the start, it was your uncle’s masterplan since your deceased parents were far too gone to do anything. You’d be a proper lady and the school would tame you down, get you a goodie two shoes husband and let you be on your best way.

But you weren’t the little gentle kid they were expecting.

Trouble made life worth living, there was no fun in the four walls you slept in most days and occasions like these were your ticket for the exit. You knew you’d have to tell the head of the class that you’re leaving with a gentlemen but that’s the point of the occasion, to make sure the girls get to know the people around and maybe even snag a husband of their own.

“Talking to you.” you speak, eyes looking up at the tall, handsome man as he sizes you up. He’s already made up his mind to donate a good amount of money to your school solely because of you.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he speaks, no swearing induced with his words because he sees just how young you are, even though you look younger than you are.

“You just told me. Mr.Solomons.” you whisper against his face, voice breathy as his eyes threaten to flutter. 

But you barely have a clue.

“I, yeah, am a bad fuckin’ man, luv.” he speaks, eyes locked into yours as his face moves. You watch the way his lips shift with each word and a blush rises on your cheeks. You giggle against his face this time, the music in the room constantly changes its melody.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?” your voice is filled with amusement and laughter. It’s not like you’ve asked him to fuck you or take you home, not just yet. 

He looks at you with wide eyes, taken aback by the bravery of such a little thing. You don’t have an ounce of fear in your eyes as you smile up at him and he speaks before you can.

“I don’t think, right, you want to be seen with me, luv.” he says, very aware of the fact that half of the room have been watching you and Alfie for the last hour. But you’ve already been seen with him, so you see no sense in what he’s saying.

“Nonsense.” you speak, the reply is almost automatic and you don’t break eye contact.

He chuckles, it’s low and you’re sure it would be impossible to hear if you weren’t standing so close. You hear his deep voice as he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“You’re the only one worth talking to in this goddamn party.” you whisper without realising it. You don’t intend on telling the gentlemen that but the sparks in his eyes when you change your mind.

Fancy events like this did not interest you, you wanted something real. It didn’t excite you that the carpets in the venue were brought from Milan or that the fine silk curtains were hand-made, you wanted things to be real, raw and not pretentious like all the posh souls were making it out to be. Alfie saw that, mostly because he felt the same way.

You wanted to run away from this place, to talk with someone about the possibilities of what the night had in stock for you and walk on the pavement with bare feet and listen to their laugh and ask them what they really thought of the place they were put in.

Alfie saw that in your eyes, you were young after all.

While you fiddled with your freshly painted nails and tried to ignore the obnoxious color the maid had chosen for you, you let him size you up. You were dangerous in the most complex ways but he liked that, he worked inside danger anyway.

“Say, luv..” he spoke, the pet name making your eyes flutter as he looked down at your small form. You didn’t look out of place here in the fancy venue but it was clear to him that you felt that way. “Do ya’ dance?”

Alfie didn’t dance, that was easy to tell and you weren’t a big fan of slow dancing either, too much intimacy was packed up in it for you. “Only If I like the gentlemen who asks me.” you spat out, true and honest as he watched you like a hawk.

But before he could even get to say anything, Miriam appeared out of thin air. She had been watching Alfie for the past hour as he made conversation with the one girl Miriam hoped he’d stay away from. Her eyes were glistening with excitement and anger, all packed up in giant orbs as she stared at you with a smile.

Alfie cleared his throat when he realised the lady had come in and needed to be introduced. Your posture clearly straightened while he started to speak, uninterested but the deed had to be done so she would leave.

“This is Miriam.” Alfie muttered, almost like a little kid who didn’t want to do it but he soon realised you hadn’t told him your name. His eyes met yours as you looked at the lady next to him and she spoke up at last.

“And who is this lovely lady?” Miriam spoke, voice a little deeper than you’d expect but it suited her. You smiles and took her hand, shaking it like how businessman shook each others’ hands and Alfie smiled at your tomboyish attitude.

“Y/N.” you spoke softly, subtly looking at Alfie direction when he muttered your name under his breath. It sounded right.

“Oh! What a lovely name!” she exclaimed, making you giggle at her excitement for such a normal part of the conversation. You nodded at his words and thanked her like you’d been taught to do.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” you spoke, a fake smile plastered on your lips while Alfie watched you under a heavy stare, you were perfectly conversing with the lady but it was obvious you wanted to be your own self.

“You two have been talking for quite a while. You don’t mind if I steal Mr. Solomons for a while, do you, dear?” she spoke, almost testing you but you had been trained by the best to not show any emotion. You nodded and smiled, realising that you were a little further down from the bar.

“Of course not.” your words were forced but the lady wouldn’t notice. You shot Alfie a charming smile before the lady dragged him to meet a couple new investors for the Jewish community. It wasn’t like they needed them, but Miriam thought that it was only natural for him to meet people who’d do the same thing as he was doing in terms of donations.

------

The venue was now filled with music, the lively kind. All the couples were tired from the endless slow dancing with the music they had put on so you had finessed the perfect plan to seduce the man who handled the live musicians and although all you had given him was a precious smile, he had started playing tunes you could easily dance at your request.

Most of the girls from your class were now on the dance floor, dancing the day away in the most proper way possible with more than two dozen young men around. No matter how big the opportunity was for them, most of them looked stiff as they moved to the music. They didn’t quite know how to move their bodies in a way that would make men their slave yet and seeing as that was what you were currently doing, you grabbed one of the girls and began teaching her slowly.

Alfie had been talking to a businessman who owned a few casinos up town. He was new to the world of being a gangster but the man seemed speakable enough for him to endure a fifteen minute conversation before he heard familiar giggles overlapping with the music that was being played.

And there you were.

You were an expert at getting yourself in trouble as far as Alfie could tell and the way you moved to the music was the sole proof of the fact. Your body moved to the rhythm, the kind of sways coming from your hips that would be enough to have any man floored if only you’d ask. Miriam watched as Alfie gulped at the sight, he was in deep trouble.

But one tug at his sleeve and he was back to normal.

He ignored the smile on your lips as your drunken state moved to the upbeat song, you were a little too fragile for any man around that night. Tonight was supposed to be about everyone getting to go home with a man on their arm, the sole purpose was to find the grown girls someone to tie their knot with so that the school could invite younger ones.

But you were sure you’d be the last to go.

Men liked to look at you, there was the innocence of a doll mixed with the deadly sins inside your small frame and that was enchanting but it wasn’t enough to keep them interested for the rest of their lives. You were stubborn and didn’t behave like a proper lady should, or so that was what you’d heard since you were a small girl. 

So you found no point in trying to act like one.

An hour passed in what felt like the blink of an eye and you stumbled on your way to the big sofa in the corner of the room. Some of your classmates were already gone with men in their arms to keep them company through the night and you had a look around to see who you could entice.

And to your surprise, the pleasant stranger was still here.

He had been watching you for the last hour with the old lady in his arm. She usually talked about giving back to the community and Alfie was all for that but there was something that kept pulling him to you. He had watched as you eyed every person in the room until your eyes landed on him, a small smile playing at your lips and he realised you weren’t as drunk as he thought you were.

That wasn’t you being drunk, it was you being nothing but trouble.

“May I?” your voice was soft against the air while you tried to get to the whiskey on the table but Alfie was blocking your access. You had walked graciously towards him before that and he was sure you wanted something.

“No fucking way.” he spoke under his breath and your eyebrows shot up at the words. He was amusing after all. 

While he blocked your hands from reaching the whiskey bottle, you shot him an innocent look and he felt as though he was playing with something a little bigger than himself.

“Why?” you asked with a dash of threat lying under. You could make this moment very difficult for him but it went both ways. 

“You, yeah, are too fuckin’ young to even be here, luv...” he speaks and you watch the way his eyes drink you up. You’re too young for drinking but now young enough to keep his eyes to himself, apparently. “...let alone be dancin’ the way you were.” he finishes his sentence and your amused chuckle fills his ears. It’s not what he expects to hear.

“Liked something you saw?” you ask, daring as you look into his eyes. He chuckles, he’s clearly taken aback.

He shakes his head instead of answering. Most of the people around are gone with their gentlemen and the party will be over soon, you figure you’ll be going to the cold bed you woke up in. He catches the faint sign of disappointment on your face and he’s smart enough to put two and two together.

But you seem far too dangerous for a man like him, he thinks.

Before he can answer your question, Annabelle comes around with a plastered smile and starts speaking in the tone you hate so much.

“Y/N! The party is over, dear. You best be on your way to your room.” she speaks, sizing Alfie up along the way. You huff and stare at the old lady. You didn’t think the party was a grand idea anyway.

“Alright.” you speak, knowing she won’t like it and Alfie enjoys the way a hint of smile plays on your lips while Annabelle turns furious for a second.

“What have I taught you?” she says, composing herself in front of the guest and Alfie watches the whole thing play out.

“Yes, Miss.” you say with a fake smile but you’re far from done. They both hear the words as you mutter them under your breath. “Your wish is my command.”

Alfie can’t help but laugh.

You know Annabelle won’t let this go but she smiles at the guest as a sign of kindness, something she hasn’t shown you in your time around here. Alfie turns to you to see the horror in your eyes and he can tell it’s because of the old grumpy lady who keeps bugging you.

And he decides to be the gentlemen.

You’re about to say goodnight and go to your room but he speaks up first to Annabelle, you don’t protest when his hand grabs your small one and caresses it while speaking.

“Actually, this one right here, yeah, will accompany me for the rest of the evenin’..” he speaks and catches the way your eyes light up but he’s composed while the old lady looks at you first and then looks at Alfie.

She’s sure it’ll be a disaster.

“Of course.” she says, wanting to get rid of you as fast as she can.

You watch her leave and Alfie’s hand engulfs your small one in the process. With stars in your eyes, you return to the kind gentlemen but he’s fast to speak before you can thank him. “We best be on our way, lass.”

And he leaves with you on his arm, unaware of the things the night has in stock for the both of you.

----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I know i have been inactive but i have one more week of school before the winter break so i’ll be better, I promise!! and please let me know what you thought or/and if you’d like to be tagged!! <3 Happy december!

[spiderlilyserendipity]

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him. 

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him. 

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow. 

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes. 

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy. 

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone. 

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one. 

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room. 

“Green.” 

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. “S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

“I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.” 

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner. 

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true. 

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.” 

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes. 

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass. 

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes. 

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.” 

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him. 

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers. 

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?” 

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply. 

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot. 

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back. 

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does. 

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself. 

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow. 

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

IN NEED FOR A PRIVATE LESSON

Prompt: Request from the beautiful @banks4life Thank you so much for your request babes ❤️😘

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, exhibitionism (sex in a public place), dirty talk, marking kink (by ejaculation on the mouth).

Tags: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This was such a delightful experience to write. I loved every second of it! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“I’m so excited!” Ember Moon, my best friend, happily clapped her hands

“Yeah, I can see that” I chuckled

“But who wouldn’t, though? We are going to have Roman Reigns himself teach us new moves! Who wouldn’t scream at that?” Ember asked

I try to hide my blush when I remind of all the times I screamed his name while coming on my vibrator at a random hotel room.

“I would” I mumbled softly

“I heard he’s an incredible guy. Plus he’s really hot too, so” Ember shrugged

“I’ll have to agree with that”

“You have the major crush on him Y/N. How are YOU feeling about all of this?” She asked as we warm up

“Honestly? I tried to call in sick today but you know I’m a terrible liar, so I didn’t succeeded”

Ember laughed “Why would you do that?”

“Because I masturbate every damn night thinking about him! Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to actually have to stare at him for God knows how many hours while last night plays in my head?” I crook an eyebrow at her, but Ember’s shocked face was unexpected to me.

“What, Ember? C’mon you KNOW I do that, don’t give me that shocked face. Fuck, I’m surprised my vibrator hasn’t broke yet, counting the amount of times I use it and think of Rom-“

Ember quickly covered my mouth with her hand and turned me around so I could see the most devastating scene of my life.

Roman Reigns stood behind me, with a cocky look on his face and a sinful smirk placed on his lips.

“Hello ladies” He greeted

“Hi” Ember answered, but I couldn’t even speak from embarrassment

“Hi, Y/N” His voice dropped, becoming deeper

I just nodded

“You have 5 minutes before we get started ladies” He winks, making his way to the ring.

“Oh God, I wanna die” I whispered-screamed

“Y/N-“

“Why didn’t you told me he was right behind me, Ember?” I angrily asked

“I tried, but you didn’t got the hint” She begins to laugh

“Goddamn it...You should’ve punched me in the face! It would be less embarrassing”

“Oh please, Y/N. Don’t be so dramatic, you’re an adult woman and he’s an adult man, I’m pretty sure he knows all about the human body needs at this point. And by the looks of it, he quite enjoyed listening to you” She winked

“Oh shut up” I push her away when she tried to hug me.

......................................................................

“Ok guys, that’s it. Two more moves and we’ll wrap it up” Roman said

After 10 minutes, everybody got cleared to go back to the hotel.

“Aren’t you coming?” Ember asked

“Nah, I feel like my moves are not that good so I’m gonna stay and practice some more”

“Are you sure, Y/N? I mean, you’re gonna be here all by yourself”

I rolled my eyes “I’ll be fine, Ember. Trust me”

“Okay, but if you need anything give me a heads up”

“Yes ma’am” I smiled at her

......................................................................

Fifty minutes have now passed, I can’t seem to get these moves correctly and I’m becoming more and more frustrated by the minute.

“FUCK ME!” I screamed in rage as I slap one of the ropes

“I beg your pardon?” His voice asked from behind me

*Oh great, he’s still here! Jesus, can this day get any more embarrassing?*

“Roman, sorry I- I wasn’t talking to you” I tried to apologize

“Unfortunately” He said, stepping closer to the ring

“What? I don’t understand”

“I said unfortunately” He’s now inside the ring

“Why, unfortunately?”

“Because for a minute there, I thought you were asking me to fuck you” Roman smirked

“Oh” I gasped

“What’s wrong? Having some trouble?” He asked, placing his duffel bag on the corner of the ring

“Yeah, it’s just.. I feel like I’m doing something wrong but I don’t know what it is” I answered in defeat

“Show me how you’re doing it”

“No, it’s fine really. I don’t want to hold you back, I’m sure I can figure it out wh-“

“Y/N! Just do what I say” Roman command and I oblige, showing him exactly what I was doing for the past 1 hour.

“See? It doesn’t look like how you showed” I sighed

“It’s because you’re doing a few things wrong, come here”

I stand by his side and he shook his head, motioning for me to stand in front of him, with my back facing him.

“Ok, so here’s your problem” He places both hands on my hips, pulling me towards him.

“You need to let your hips loose, they’re to stiff” Roman’s hands squeeze my hips and glued them to his crotch.

“Like this” He whispered on my ear and made my hips circle around his crotch

“Can you feel it?” He asked, clearly talking about his hard on

I nodded, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock against my ass

“This is your fault” Roman nibbles my ear lightly “You did this to me” He pressed one hand on my lower belly, so I could get even more close to him. Roman stopped my hips, holding them still so he could grind against my ass.

“You, your dirty mouth and perfect ass, did this to my cock” He growled

My head was buzzing with excitement. Was this really happening? I’ve wanted this for so long that I felt like I was dreaming.

“Tell me, Y/N, do you really touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes” I panted

“Hmmm, tell daddy exactly what you think of, baby” He pinched my nipples through my t-shirt

“I-I think about daddy’s cock claiming me, fucking me hard and merciless until I can’t control my body anymore. Until I can’t stop coming around daddy’s dick” I moaned

Roman growls on my ear as his hand sink down the waist band of my leggings, reaching my mound. He devour the nape of my neck while two fingers slide through my folds, spreading my wetness.

“You’re soaking, baby” He murmured, sliding two fingers in “And so, so tight..You’re gonna feel amazing around me”

“Daddy, please” I beg when he reached my clit

Roman laid me down on the ring, quickly yanking my leggings and panties down, followed by my t-shirt, sports bra and his own clothes.

He slowly slides inside of me, once he’s buried deep, he locked his arms underneath my knees so my legs could be as spread as he wanted them to be.

And fuck, was he thick!

“Daddy” I whined, in a bittersweet tone of pleasure and pain

“Shhhh baby, it’s ok. You’re going to get used to it before you know it”

Roman’s lips were sweet as he kissed me to take my focus away from his thickness.

Slowly he begins to move, the friction is so heavenly it makes me even more wet.

“How could you possibly get wetter? Fuck, Y/N” Roman moaned, looking down to where our bodies met “Such a good pussy” He whispered to himself

“Daddy, fuck me harder”

“Harder?” He asked amused and I nodded “Who would have thought that this angel’s face is such a dirty girl” He smirked, turning up the pace. But for me, still wasn’t enough

“Harder” I pleaded

“Fuck, you’re amazing” He cackled, setting a furious pace

“Yes, daddy. Just like that” I moaned loudly

With each hard thrust I felt him hitting my g-spot. With every pump in, I moan louder.

“You’re gonna come for daddy, baby? I can feel you getting tighter”

I can only nod in agreement

“Come baby, come on daddy’s cock”

And so I do. Coating his length with my juices. When I’m down from my high, Roman knelt and quickly pulls off saying

“Tell daddy to feed you his cum, baby”

I place myself in all fours “Please daddy, feed me your cum” I repeat the same words he said, opening my mouth for him and savoring the taste of his seed upon my tongue before swallowing it.

Roman collapse into the ring, pulling me down with him.

“Thank you for the private lesson, professor” I teased

“My pleasure, baby” He chuckled “What you’re gonna do later?”

“Nothing, besides going back to the hotel, taking a shower and watch some movies. Why?” I asked and Roman hovered over me

“In that case, what do you say about learning some new moves back at the hotel?” He nibs my lower lip

“Hmmmm, I think I could some new techniques” I smiled

Already thinking about all of the dirty things that man would do to me

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this. Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[cryptiql]

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

[blinder-secrets]

In The Leaves

tommy x reader, 1,850 words

a bit nsfw, mostly power play and lusting

The house is quiet when you get home, shut off, and dark, and empty empty empty. You dawdle in the entry way. Drip your coat off, leave your bag by the hat stand. If Tommy’s in he’s sleeping, or hiding, or locked up in the office with his head in the whiskey. You unlace your boots and push them under the dresser, though he hates when you do that. There’s places for shoes, he says, put them away.

‘Tom?’

You call his name quietly, around the open door to his office. There’s no light, no man. He’s in bed, then. For once he’s beaten you to it.  

You go upstairs, zigzagging on the wide staircase because you can, because it’s late and your time is still your own to play with. It isn’t often that you take nights for yourself. No Tommy, no business. Free to do as you please. You’d gone to Vera’s first, then to the dancehall, then to Polly’s house in that little village, with the pretty parks and the bridges. You’d made your driver wait in the car until you were bored, and you’d paid him handsomely for it. That was part of the novelty too; money from your purse, orders in your voice, followed, not questioned. You see why Tommy craves it.

‘I should go home,’ you’d told Pol, ‘he hates when I’m away.’

‘No, love, he just hates not knowing where.’

‘Oh,’ you’d said. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think that’s it at all.’

When you reach the top, your stocking snags on a splintered floorboard. You pull it twice, and then it’s free again, but there’s a rip from your heel to your ankle. They were new; you’d put them on straight from the packet.

‘[Y/n]?’ His voice comes from the bedroom, low and curling around the hallway. ‘That you?’

‘Yes, Tom,’ you answer. ‘I’ve ripped my tights on the stairs.’

You follow your voice back to him, chase it through until you’re in the doorway, and he’s in the bed, ignoring you like you’d said nothing at all. You were right. Not sleeping, but hiding. He’s sitting against the headboard, chest bare, with the covers to his waist. He looks young, boyish. There’s note-paper in his hands and two more sheets of it on his lap.

‘Where’ve you been?’ he asks, without looking from his reading.

You slouch into the doorframe. ‘Am I in trouble?’

His eyes flick to you. It’s so quick, it may have just been the light on his glasses. ‘If you want to be,’ he says.

‘I was at Poll’s house.’

‘Drinking?’

‘Of sorts.’ The tear in your stocking is growing, you lift your foot to feel your heel through the hole. ‘She read my leaves,’ you say.

He sighs, sets the paper down, and picks up the next. ‘Did she?’

Your foot hits the floor with a thump. ‘Don’t you want to know what she saw?’

No, he thinks. No, I don’t care, he thinks. No, I’m sitting and reading and not looking at you, not even once, because I’m Tommy, and I’m bored of everything that isn’t myself.

You watch for a reaction. A clue that you’re right, that he is thinking all that, but he’s just still. His eyes follow the lines slowly. He clears his throat once, and then flips the page over to read the back.

‘It involved the two of us,’ you add, ‘the pictures in the leaves.’

‘Hm?’

Sighing, you cross the room and climb onto the bed on your knees.

‘You’re no fun, Tommy Shelby.’ Not when you want him to be. Not when it costs his time.

You crawl over to him, then turn onto your back and put your head on his thigh. You set your cheek against the covers so you can watch him, so he can find you at the bottom of the page, so he looks at you without meaning to. ‘What’re you reading that’s so important?’ you ask.

‘Letters,’ he answers, dropping the word into your gaze.

‘From who?’

‘Important people, love.’

‘Can’t I know?’ You touch his elbow, running your fingers in circles around the ridges of his skin. ‘I write your letters for you, sometimes.’

The paper lowers enough that your hand becomes trapped between his arm and the pillow behind him. ‘You asked for the night off, didn’t you?’

From work. Not from conversation, not from him. ‘I suppose,’ you grumble. Your bottom lip juts out and you let it sit there. Watch me pout, Tommy, watch me sulk like a child.

He sighs. Then he stacks the letter with the others and puts them all, abandoned, on the bedside table. ‘Alright,’ he says, once he’s looking down at you again. ‘What did Polly say,’ he groans, settling into the bed, ‘about your tea?’

You pull your hand free and turn your head to the ceiling. Your arms cross over your chest. It doesn’t matter now, it isn’t as interesting. ‘I’ve forgotten. Something about changing responsibility.’

‘Responsibilities?’ His hand goes to your face, his index finger trailing the line of your nose, across your lips and over your chin, down, down until it’s resting in the hollow of your throat. ‘Yours or mine?’ he asks.

‘Ours.’

He hums, the noise is deep in his chest, tumbling lower and under your skull. ‘What else?’

Suddenly, you’re shy. Nervous to tell him. What Polly had seen had excited you, filled you up with possibility and wonder, left you curious. Wanting. Tommy’s scrutiny would kill that, you’re sure. He’d flay the ideas and leave you to gather the scraps. ‘Nothing important,’ you tell him. ‘She thinks I should let go more. Let myself be.’

‘You should.’ His hand flattens over your collarbone. It’s either mercy, or his interest peaking and withering between you, because he changes subject like the conversation’s over. ‘You ripped your stockings?’ he asks, question already answered in his tone.

You look back to him, smiling. ‘So, you were listening.’

His eyebrows raise, head tilting as if to say, maybe. Maybe he was. Maybe he’s seen the ladder running up your calf.

‘Will you buy me a new pair?’ you ask.

‘If you want.’

‘Fancy ones? French?’

He nods.

‘You’ll give me anything, won’t you?’ Anything with a price tag, anything material. If it was within reason, he’d say yes, he’d have it on your dresser in a ribbon by the morning. You loop your fingers around his wrist. ‘Anything but attention,’ you muse. ‘That, I have to work for.’

You watch him blink, watch him incline his head and wet his lips. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

No, not most.

‘You like working for it,’ he adds.

You snort. ‘Not always.’

Sometimes it’s nice to start things, sometimes you like to pull the want from behind his bored eyes. To make him need you, to make him melt beneath, and give way, craving, falling to the tide. Other times, it feels like a chore. Another responsibility you hadn’t asked for.

‘I shouldn’t have to do it all the time,’ you say, quieter than planned.

‘You have my attention now.’

‘Because I took it,’ you say.

‘No,’ he corrects. 'Because I gave it.’

He hold’s your gaze for a moment. Something slips between you, a new tension that twitches under your ribs, scattering your heartbeat. It bubbles and gathers in your chest, forces your breaths to become quick and short. You’re sure he notices it. Sure he’s planned for it. He looks down at you, lay against his lap, like he’s waiting for the nerves to form; for anticipation to fizz your senses.

His hand slides up until its curving around your neck, thumb and fingers bracketing your throat. It stills there, baited, cold against your skin. ‘Is it enough?’ he asks. ‘Have you had enough, hm?’

You swallow; it runs under his palm, sinking into your gut. ‘No, not yet.’  

He squeezes once, pulling lightly enough to get you to comply, and then you’re sitting up for him. Up and towards his chest, with his hand on your throat and your fingers scooped over his shoulders.

‘You don’t want to start things,’ he says, ‘not always?’

Your head shakes by itself.

‘Words, love.’

‘No,’ you answer.

‘Done making decisions, eh?’ His hand twists to hold the back of your neck, fingers splayed and straying into the base of your hair. ‘Tired of taking charge?’

‘Yes, Tom.’

He nods, the gesture is so slight it could have been nothing. ‘Take my glasses off,’ he says.

You do. You pull them from his face and set them on top of the papers, his gaze unmoving as you do so. The room’s quiet, but your head’s swelling with noise, your blood pumping loud enough to convince your eardrums that it’s in there. Filling your skull. Strong enough to dizzy you. When you straighten in front of him, his hands are on your waist, firmly, like he knows you need it.

Then he leans forward, pushing you backwards until you’re beneath him. Your arms are pulled upwards, flat on the bed, crossed at the wrists. He holds them there with one hand.

‘Have to let yourself be,’ he says by your ear. ‘You don’t want control, do you?’

You want to answer him. You want to tell him that this is what you’d meant, this is how it should be. Not always, but sometimes. A change of responsibility like the leaves said. When you open your mouth, all that pours out is a sweetened moan. It rides your breath over his shoulder and into the air.

‘No,’ you sigh. Not tonight. You don’t want control, you want this, you want this and him and attention until it’s flooding you. Until it’s too much.

Head lowered, he sinks kisses into your neck. Drags teeth and tongue down the line of your throat ’til you’re mewling. You lift up against him, back curved and eager, but he pushes back with his hips. Forces you down, subdued. Into the mattress and wanting.

‘Tommy,’ you whine.

He shushes you. ‘Leave them there,’ he says, as he pulls his hand from your wrists.

He goes upright, backwards and away from you, sitting on his heels like he’s praying. The sheet lies twisted around his knees. You wish he’d move it, you want bare skin against bare skin.

‘What shall I do with you?’ he asks himself. ‘Ay? How shall I have you?’

You’re putty waiting beneath his fingers. You’re honey, dripping, cloying, holding shape but slowly losing. His thumb finds the band of your stocking, pulls it taut against the clip that holds it there. Anything. Do anything. You’re his, you’re melting. You’re light pouring through the gaps and waiting, waiting to burst. Elastic snaps against your thigh. He smiles.

‘I like having you like this,’ he says.

Like you’re leaves, swirled and left in the cup. Wanting to be read, to be understood, to be laid out and fulfilled.

‘Like you’re mine,’ he finishes.

‘I am,’ you tell him. ‘I am, Tommy, I am.’

[secretsandwriting]

Words just spilled out and it became this but I’m happy with it!

Word Count - 1028

Beta Read - No

“Alright, remember to hang on tight! If you fall, there’s a net but you have to try to hang on, ok?” Matthew nodded. The 6 year old boy lifted himself a foot off the ground. Most of the kids here could fly, but only a few feet up in the air. Which helped with safety.

“Alright! Shall we start?” The kids cheered and Cedric released the small snitch made for childrens games, the game was on. One of the other volunteers was keeping score, you were mostly there to help with any scraped knees or elbows, snacks, and breaking up any mini fights. Cedric was the coach of the team. That’s how you ended up helping out.

He needed someone else to help with the normal children things and since you were one of the main ones who helped with the first years at school, he asked you. So here you were, spending your summer helping the wizard version of little league. The kids were amazing and it was fun watching them learn.

“Miss Y/n!” One of the kids wailed your name from the side lines. “Michal pushed me and now my knee is bleeding!” Piper sniffled as she showed you her leg.

“Oh no! Lets get it cleaned up!” Pulling the proper supplies, you cleaned the scrape and stuck a red band-aid on it. “Now, Michal. Is it nice to push people?” Thankfully Michal seemed to agree, while small the scrape had shaken him up. “Good. Please don’t do it again. Now, what do you say to Piper?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Piper forgave him and they went back to playing.

“You’re really good with them.” Whirling around you were met with Cedric. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Cedric stopped and snorted, he motioned to the kids. They were all looking at the two of you. Cindy, one of the more outspoken girls, had a smile that only meant she was going to ask a question that you wouldn’t want her too.

“Are you guys gonna get married?” With that all hell broke loose. Most of the girls got excited while the boys were more grossed out by it. Leave it to children to say things you don’t want spoken.

“No Cindy, we’re just friends.”

“I fucked up Hannah. I agreed to help because of the kids. I forgot that the guys who play with kids were hot and then add Cedric to that and we have a big problem. Please help me! I agreed to help this coming summer but I don’t know if my heart can handle it!” She just shook her head.

“Power through it, maybe he’ll do something that will turn you away.” She was clearly talking about a different Cedric Diggory. After all, you had yet to see him do anything that wasn’t amazing, sweet, or bad. He was probably as close to perfect as people could get. “Or, you could ask him out.”

“Powering through sounds like a sound plan.”

“You’re hopeless. Absolutely smitten and hopeless.” Hannah just stared at you. “Sometimes I wonder how you got this far in life but then you spout random facts that make me think you’re a serial killer.” She drank some more. “Listen, summer and your little league starts in 4 weeks. I know it’s probably terrifying that you’ll be seeing him five days a week for 7 hours a day, but try to concentrate on the kids. Maybe that will help. After all, you’re teaching at least 20 mini teams each week. Therefore, it shouldn’t be too hard to. Remember, you’re always free to come see me at home!”

Halfway through the summer, on a Friday after Kaylee fell off of her broom and broke her wrist. Cedric asked if you could talk while you walked to the nearby floo that was there for times like these.

“I was wondering if you would like to go to the Leaky Cauldron with me on Sunday?”

That’s when things changed. One date became two, two became three and so on. Throughout the school year, it would be studying together or a picnic somewhere. Then Cedric was chosen to be in the Triwizard Tournament and you almost lost him. After that, you grew closer. Spending as much time together as you could.

Then Cedric graduated, he still made sure to send you letters and visit when he was allowed to. Every Hogsmeade trip he was there. It was harder but you both put in effort and made it through.

It wasn’t perfect by any means. But it wasn’t bad. With work and communication it was amazing. You didn’t think it could get any better, especially when you sat with him watching your little league team play. When the snitch was caught, the little girl brought it to you. A big grin on her face as well as the rest of the team.

On it was a ring, turning to look at Cedric you found him down on one knee.

The wedding was simple, nothing too flashy but big enough for all your friends, family, and little league teams. Hannah gave a speech and mentioned your panic going into the second summer, Piper made sure to remind the two of you that she knew you would get married.

The house Cedric had gotten was large enough for the two of you as well as a few of your own little bundles of joy and terror. Life was amazing. It seemed like so long ago that you were panicking over your crush, like a whole other life but it was only 4 years ago.

“What are you thinking about?” Cedric hugged you from behind, placing a kiss on your cheek, his hands resting on your very much pregnant stomach. In front of you was a wooden crib. According to your father-in-law, it was Cedric’s.

“Just about the past and the fact I’m going to hate you when I go into labor.” You felt him chuckle as he gently swayed with you. “It’s hard to believe it’s only been four years.”

“Yeah, but we have many more in front of us, Mrs. Diggory.”

hmm imagine Cedric & the reader coaching little kids quidditch, and then they bond over that and fall for each other cause they both care/ look after for the same thing (the kids) -ur fav anon :)