#but then i started noticing it more and it just makes me so happy

[leighsartworks216]

If You're Quiet During Sex (Headcanons)

Sylus x gn!Reader + Zayne x gn!Reader (separate)

Had this thought because I'm quiet During so I got a little self-deprecating about what they'd think about it... but then I remembered the boys would never make me feel ashamed for that shit

Warnings: sexual content

Word Count: 434 (cool, it's like a little kissy face)

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus

Probably thinks he's not making you feel good enough at first

Shocked when you orgasm because you were so quiet, surely he didn't make you cum already???

Brings it up right away, asks if you liked it

Admits that he expected you to make more noise

If it's purely from inexperience or anxiety, he's more than happy to spend time breaking down those barriers. He won't force you to make noise, but he's definitely more forthcoming with his own sounds to encourage you. Any sound you do make, he's praising you for it and trying to draw it out of you again

If moaning really just isn't your thing, he just asks that you tell him if something feels good or bad. He wants to pleasure you, and he wants to make sure he's doing things you like when he might not notice your little tells in the heat of the moment

Either way, he does keep track of your tells. If you close your eyes and tilt your head back, mouth hanging open, small whimpers or shivers - he's looking for whatever it is that tells him you're enjoying yourself

He's moderately noisy during sex. He'll moan and talk, but it's not like he's trying to project it. It's more close to you, contained in the space between you both, but not so quiet he has to be in your ear to hear it

-

Zayne

I feel like he wouldn't question it as much

Because he's also not very vocal

He himself is very breathy and whines a little, but full moans are few and far between

Communicates a LOT about what you do and don't enjoy before, during and after

Sometimes requests you to speak (*ahem* "Say my name..." from Silent Poem, I'm looking at you), but never pushes you to be loud

If you're quiet because of anxiety or inexperience, he's as reassuring and encouraging as he can be. Would honestly be so proud of you if you start being louder and more vocal over time, because it means you're comfortable with him and that means the world to him. Says as much afterward, cuddling you and nuzzling into your neck with a lovestruck grin as he does

I wonder if you couldn't also influence him into being more noisy during sex. Command or beg him to say your name, tell you how good he feels, suck and bite at his most sensitive spots until he's a whining, simpering mess.....

Imagine his own surprise when you touch him and he lets out a very loud moan that even he wasn't expecting

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[rafesheaven]

stopping at the hospital to bring your dad something to eat for dinner and seeing his best friend doctor rafe and when you're walking down the hallway someone suddenly takes your hand to pulls you into the empty room 🤭 you turn around to see rafe and when you ask him why did he do that he just shrugs, smirking down at you as he takes your face between his big hands to whisper "maybe i'm just hungry too?" before he goes down on you like a starved man <3

warnings — dbf!doctor!rafe, age gap (rafe is 35, reader is early 20s), sneaking around, public sex, oral (f. receiving), praising

more of my doctor!rafe au found here !

“hey sweetie, what are you doing here?” your dad greeted when he noticed you. “figured i’d bring you some dinner since you’re working the overnight shift tonight,” you gestured to the tupperware in your hands. “you didn’t have to do that,” he chuckled, “i know, but i wanted to, besides, i know how crazy the hospital gets during this time of the year,” you shrugged.

“yeah, the holidays tend to do that or make people do crazy things,” he snorted, carefully taking the tupperware and tucking it under his arm. your ears perked at a familiar voice, and your eyes landed upon rafe, your dad's best friend, who was already looking in your direction while talking to one of the nurses. rafe had that same signature smirk on his face, shooting you a playful wink, and chuckling to himself when you quickly averted your attention back to your father calling you, "honey?"

"sorry dad, what were you saying?" you mumbled, hearing him sigh at the sound of his pager going off, “it's okay, honey. i was just saying that i have to go, but thank you for bringing dinner.” you smiled softly, nodding as he planted a kiss on your forehead, “i’ll see you at home, alright?”

after he rounded the corner, you looked back to find that rafe was nowhere to be found before you started heading down the hallway to get to the elevator. just as you were about to pass one of the supply closets, a hand reached out, encircling your wrist and yanking you into the small, confined room.

"what the hell—" you spun around, crashing right into rafe's broad chest. "rafe? why did you drag me in here?" you questioned. the older man shrugged, smirking down at you as he cupped your face in his large hands, "thought you'd be happy to see me, babydoll."

"i am, but what if someone saw you dragging me in here?," you argued. "you worry too much, you know that?" rafe chuckled, earning a playful smack to the chest, "yeah, for good reasons."

“you need to stop worrying so much, it’s not good for your pretty little head,” his thumbs caressed your cheeks. he gently pulled your face closer as he dips his head down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you melted like putty in his hands, your hands grabbed at his scrub top, balling it into your fists to pull him closer.

“see? isn’t that better?” rafe hummed, kissing along your jaw to your neck. “a little, still doesn’t explain why you dragged me in here,” you pointed out, moaning softly when he nipped at your flesh. "maybe i'm just hungry too," he muttered against your skin. "what—" you watched as he lowered himself to his knees, his hands pushing your skirt, causing it to hike around your waist.

“fuck, haven’t even touched you and you’re already soaking through this little thing,” he groaned, his fingers hooking into your panties, tugging it down till it pooled around your ankles. he helped you step out of them before pocketing them into his scrub pants, “gonna need something to help me get through the rest of this shift.”

you lean your back against the shelves in the closet as he nudged your thighs further apart. “fuckin’ missed this sweet little pussy,” rafe groaned, his tongue running through your slick folds to your puffy clit.

"oh—" you hiccuped, his tongue circling your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. you looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and saw he was already looking up at you. his nails dug into the skin of your hips, pulling you closer as the tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, moving to prod at your entrance.

you forgot how good he was at this, but he's never failed to make you cum from his tongue alone. small, desperate pants slip from your lips as he ate you out like you were his last meal.

"missed tasting you on my tongue, babydoll. taste as sweet as you look," rafe moaned against your cunt, his tongue delved into your cunt. "fuck, rafe," you whined, his nose grinding against your poor clit as your rut your hips, grinding against his mouth desperately.

your legs started to tremble as you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach. "oh fuck...'m gonna cum," you whimpered pathetically, your hand clutching the back of his head. "c'mon, babydoll, just let go," he groaned, sucking your sensitive bud back into his mouth harshly,

you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth as a cry erupted from your throat, pure bliss washing over you. rafe watched in awe, taking in your pleasure-ridden face, his tongue lapping at your release before pulling away to kiss along your inner thighs. he slowly stood up, helping you fix your skirt, "did so good, baby," he peppered your face with kisses.

"c'mon, let's get out of here before we actually do get caught," he whispered, carefully opening the door and peeking his head out to ensure no one was looking. you carefully stepped out behind him, "thanks for dinner, sweetness.”

tagging moots: @oceandriveab @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @ilovefiction4lmen @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @cxrrodedcoffin @dollyfiles @littlelamy @fallbhind @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @jjslaybank @fae-of-prey @cybersunnie @zyafics

[fl3shm4id3n]

Can u do a Thanos fanfic with a pregnant reader where it’s unplanned 🫣

ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱᴇ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Talks about sex, unexpected pregnancy, talks about termination, talks about a vasectomy, a bit of angst, Thanos alcoholic father mentioned, fluff and comfort towards the end.

A/N: Hope ya'll like it.

Masterlist

For some time now, you had been feeling ill. You'd wake up in the morning sick, even smells made you feel nauseous. One time, when Thanos had put on his cologne you felt sick and ran to the bathroom to empty your stomach. Not only that, but you had passed out once too. That worried Thanos. He told you that same day to make a doctor's appointment to see what was up. So, you did. You made an appointment that same day and went. You had some tests ran and you were told that your results will be emailed to you the next days.

That morning, you had woken up and did your regular routine. While Thanos was still sleeping, he had stayed up late working on a song. Instead of waking him up, you let him sleep a bit more. While you were in the bathroom, doing your skincare. You heard your phone ding a notification. You picked it up and turned it on to see what was up. It was your test results. You were glad that you got your results early in the morning. You pressed on the email and processed to read it carefully.

You felt punch in the gut when you saw that in your results it said that you were pregnant. Pregnant, you felt dizzy. You sat down on the toilet seat and just stared at your phone. Repeatedly reading the word 'Pregnant'. In all honesty, you never thought about having children. It never crossed your mind, sure some of your friends already began having their kids and all, but you never really thought about being a mother. But wait, what about Thanos? You knew he never talked about having kids either. His relationship with his father wasn't the best. He'd always avoid the topic about parents and all that. How would he feel about you being pregnant.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice him enter the bathroom. "Hey babe!" Thanos said, very happy to see you, but when he saw that look on your face. He knew something was wrong. He frowned, then walked over to you. Crutching down to look at you. "What's wrong?" He asked, then look at your phone in your hand. "Is it bad?" He asked, now worried about your test results. You didn't say anything, then you handed him the phone, in which he took and processed to read the email.

When his eyes widen as he read, you knew he saw it too. "You're... pregnant?" He asked, almost afraid to say it. "I don't know what went wrong, I was on the pill or... or maybe I mistook it for the other pills." You tried to explain, but you talked fast, almost in a panic. "Deep breathes babe, deep breathes." He said, while he gently caressed your shoulders. Once you had calmed down, you sighed. It was quiet, neither one of you had an idea on what to say. The silence felt forever. Until Thanos finally asked. "How... do you feel?" He asked, while looking at you, but your gaze was elsewhere. Looking down at your lap.

"I don't know honestly. I've never really thought about kids ya know. Maybe once, but I didn't really think about starting a family or having kids. I never crossed my mind like that." You confessed, Thanos sighed, while thinking of something to say. Until he spoke. "Me either, to be honest. The thought of me being a father, terrified me. Because you know. My old man was a crazy son of a bitch." He said, but processed to continue. "Yeah, fucking psycho. Thinking he had a bug in his head or some shit like that." He added, you listened carefully while looking at him. "I made a vow, that I'd never be a dad. Because I thought that I would end up like him and I wouldn't want my kids to see me in such way like I saw him." He explained, he sounded sad, worried.

"But you're not, you're better than him." You encouraged him, while running your fingers through his messy purple hair. "I just, don't know what to do. I don't know if I'm ready to be a mother. I-" You paused, while sighing. Thanos noticed the worried look on your face, then decided to pull you into a hug. You hugged him back, leaning your head against his shoulder. "No one is ready for anything babe." He said as he tried to comfort you. "Whatever decision you decide to make, I'll support you. If anything, I'll go get a vasectomy just in case." He said as he continued to hug you. "What if, I choose to terminate? Or give the baby up for adoption? Or what if I keep it?" You asked, almost worried about how he would react to those many options.

"If that's what you want. That's fine, I'll be there with you during the process. Nothing is more important than you babe. " He said, affectionately. That made you feel better, you buried your face onto his shoulder, than gave you a kiss on the forehead. "It'll be okay. Take the time that you need to think about it." He said, as he continued to hold you. That made you feel calm, you were glad that he was understanding. Sure, they'd be times where he seemed like he doesn't care about anything but himself and acted like the unhinged gremlin that he was, but behind the scenes. He is very caring and a loving person.

[insomniadreamzz]

Hey, how are you? I wanted to request G!P Jinx x Reader. Imagine that the reader is Jinx's girlfriend and they have unprotected sex and then Jinx gets the reader pregnant? Something like the reader being afraid to tell Jinx and she freaks out about it and stuff like that… Could there also be smut at the end and fluff too? Please, I've never seen that around here 😮‍💨

Helloo! Thank you I am perfectly fine. Today is my birthday and I am actually busy but I LOVE this request so I had to write it down today 👀

———

My everything

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader

Smut, mentions of pregnancy, fluff

The last days you felt kinda off, your emotions were like a rollercoaster and you got more sensitive. Jinx realised this too, making her feel a little worried about you. Since she had mental issues herself, she always questioned if she did something wrong, making the situation between you both get a little more complicated.

„Is everything okay my love? It’s your third plate of food today. I don’t mind it at all but…I am worried if something is bothering you. You know you can tell me anything right? You do trust me do you?“ Jinx asked as you were about to finish your food, your gaze moving up to look at her, a little smile on your face. „Of course I do trust you. You are my girlfriend after all. I just feel more hungry than usual these days, nothing to worry about.“ You tried to reassure her but she felt something was still off.

The next days your behavior went on, you also felt nauseous out of nowhere which made you realise that you might be pregnant. Last time you and Jinx got intimate you didn’t use protection which was a little silly of both of you but to be honest you didn’t really realise she would get you pregnant that fast. Whatever…if it was true and you carried her child, how to tell her? You suddenly worried about her reaction, close to panic but before your mind will make you freak out you decided to make a test first and then you will have to figure something out.

Thankfully Jinx wasn’t in her hideout today, she went out to probably blow something up again. You always had to worry about her when she wasn’t around but right now you were glad she wasn’t home so you could do the test without her knowing and just how you thought, it was positive. „Fuck…“ You cursed under your breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. Of course you were happy since having a family with your girlfriend was your biggest dream. But so sudden? It just made you think about a lot of stuff like are you even ready for it? Is Jinx ready for it? Will she be happy? Or will she be upset? You didn’t know since you never talked about that topic before.

One thing was clear. You had to tell her. Jinx already blamed herself for not treating you right anymore to explain your behavior. You noticed her anxiety getting worse these days but now you had a valid explanation for your latest behavior. Maybe that would calm her down and stop blaming herself?

There was not much time of thinking about how to explain to Jinx as you heard her walking into the hideout, a happy smile on her face as she catched your sight, you quickly hiding the test behind your back, wishing you already removed it and didn’t stare at it all the time while having a little discussion with your own mind about the result. „Hey toots!!“ She said with her usual wuirky behaviour you loved so much but she did notice you hid something behind your back. „What ya hiding there?“ She asked and you began to blush deeply, not being able to find the right words or to speak at all. „I-…“ You started but she cut you off by snatching it out of your hand. Why did you hide it anyways? You knew Jinx was too fast for you to even react when she tried to get it out your hands.

Her eyes widened when she saw what you were hiding, not knowing how to react. You bit down on your own lower lip, feeling nervous, scared she would be upset. „You are…“ She started, looking into your eyes with a soft gaze, you only nod in response which was enough for the blue haired girl to freak out but in a positive way. „Oh my god! My girl is pregnant!“ She squealed, being all jumpy and giggly, talking to herself about all the things she wants to do and build as she paced around the hideout before she stopped right in front of you, placing a lot of soft kisses on your lips. „I love you so much!“ She said in between the kisses before pulling back to look into your eyes again, you felt so relieved. „Jinx…are you happy?“ You asked just in case as if her reaction wasn’t enough. „Are you kidding me?! I am! I am the happiest my love!“ She reassured you, taking your hands in hers as she gently rubbed them with her thumbs. „I-I know I am chaotic and I know the things I do are weird and dangerous, making me question if I can do this right but…but I want it! I wanna take care of you both and make sure you will always feel loved.“

Her words made you feel so soft. You didn’t expect her to be this passionate about that topic but you loved it. You loved her. Her eyes got a little watery, the more she realised it, the more emotional she got. „I-I thought I did something wrong. I thought you stopped loving me but…but the real reason you behaved like this…it’s such a beautiful reason.“ Jinx voice was very soft and a little shaky as she let tears of happiness run down her cheeks and so did you. You couldn’t hold back your own emotions anymore as well, feeling so happy as well that she wasn’t upset about it. „I could never stop loving you…how could you even think that?“ You asked but in return she just kissed you again, this time more deeper and passionately as she made you lay down on your back. Right now she just wanted to feel you and give you her love, her tongue moving inside your mouth, making you gasp softly in return.

Both of you felt aroused by the deep kissing, your hormones being all over the place made you feel hornier than usual so it was obvious you wanted her and you showed it as your hands gently pulled on her pants, making her smirk into the kiss. „Heh…you want me don’t you?“ She hummed and you nodded. „Yes…yes please I need you.“ You almost beg for her to fuck you and of course she won’t deny you.

It didn’t took you long to be all over each other again, her marking your body with kisses and little gentle bites while her cock moved inside of you, her pace being slower than usual, making you chuckle a little. She must do that on purpose which was cute. „Hnn…you know you can go faster do you?“ She looked down at you with a soft gaze, you knew she didn’t want to do anything wrong but you reassured her. Jinx behavior was just so sweet. „Ah…yes I know of course.“ She said but you knew she was being careful now because she knew you were pregnant. After your reassurance she thrusted faster inside of you as she held your hips gently, going deeper as usual, losing herself into the pleasure just like you. Both of you being a moaning mess. „Fuck…I am close…“ She moaned out and you kept her close to you by wrapping your legs around her waist, making sure she won’t pull out. „M-me too…cum inside me please.“ You whined, her hips didn’t stop moving, moaning out loudly when she came and at the same time you reached your orgasm as well, feeling her fill you up with her cum, making both of you feel so good.

Both of you panted softly, her leaning down to kiss you again so lovingly. „You make me the happiest…“ She whispered. „And you make me the happiest.“ You answered with a soft smile, caressing her cheek as you both looked into each others eyes with so much love.

(Fluff bonus)

„Hey that tickles!“ You giggle softly as Jinx painted little hearts and other little cute stuff on your baby bump. „What? You’re my beautiful canvas.“ She teased by sticking her tongue out, a giggle leaving her own lips. She just loved doing these sweet little things with you.

„Who knows maybe our little one will be as creative as you?“ You mentioned, making Jinx smile more. „Maybe who knows?“ She answered before leaning down to place a kiss on your tummy and then nuzzling close to it. „I love both of you so so much you don’t even know…“ Her words so soft, almost like a whisper as she stayed close to you. „And we love you. Always and forever.“ You gently caressed her beautiful blue hair, making her smile as she closed her eyes and eventually feeling your little one kicking for the first time.

[sucodelaranja86]

Baking n shared kisses w Hyun-Ju perchance?😇

- baking with Hyun-ju : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

summary: money is getting tight, so your girlfriend is teaching you how to bake a cake for your upcoming birthday.

warnings: none.

genre: fluff

A/N: This request is so cute what ;33

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ "No, no, no. You don't stir with a metal spoon."

You were currently getting scolded for your 3rd error that night. Baking shouldn't be that hard! You had bought the idea of making your own cake as a way of saving for some money for your upcoming birthday, but it seemed baking was just not for you.

"Cmon, Hyun-ju! Everything i do is 'wrong' or 'not right' now?" you objected, already annoyed with how many times she had corrected you in just the making of the icing.

"It is if you don't do it right." she affirmed, her voice a bit stern. She then continued, "And you're the one who asked me to teach you, baking a cake is not the hardest thing to do. i could simply bake one for you without a problem."

"You're just saying that because you're naturally talented." you alleged, trying to get on her good side after having nagged her all night.

"Didn't you say you were having a hard time finding a job? Maybe you could just stay at home while i wor- ouch! What was that for?" you chanted in an exaggerated furious tone after receiving a slight slap to your nape.

"If you're trying to flatter me, it's not working." she retoned with a sigh, finishing picking up the necessary ingredients. After a few seconds, she added. "Now hurry up. If you're having a hard time with the easiest part, then you're not gonna last much longer."

-

After giving the icing part to her, you followed her directions to the hilt (mainly to not get slapped again). You started by pre-hesting tue oven, and then started mixing the ingredients in a separate bowl for the batter. Eggs, milk, butter, flour, sugar, baking powder... This was kind of fun!

You added a bit of vanilla to the mix, smelling already a good scent coming from the bowl. However, your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sudden peck to your lips, surprising you for a second.

You look up to see Hyun-ju smilling satisfied at you."See? When you follow my orders correctly, things don't go wrong." she gently assured you. However, she could notice your dream-stuck face, and an idea immediately popped into her head.

"There is much more where this one came from. If i notice you are doing it right, i might reward you, lovely." she whispered teasingly while giving your nose a playful bop, getting it a bit dirty from flour.

"Yes, ma'am!"

-

"It burned a little..." you mutter disappointingly, turning you head up to look at Hyun-ju, waiting for what she was going to say.

"You overcooked it for some minutes." she acclaimed. You look down, upset that you managed to ruin the perfect dough you prepared so proudly. Hyun-ju, however, noticed your melancholy, and quickly bowed down a bit to you level.

She puts her hands on each of your shoulders, whispering softly in hopes to soothe you. "Don't worry, nobody gets it perfect on the first few tries. I'm very happy i got to spend time with you, sweetheart. You're sweeter than any cake we could have baked today." she assured you.

She then turned you delicately towards her, putting her hand on your cheek and kissing you. Her docile methods quickly lifting up your mood.

As you both separate from each from each others lips to breathe, you give her a confident look, smirking slightly while proposing the following suggestion.

"You're still gonna bake me a cake for my birthday, right?"

with a sigh, she responded.

"Yes, my dear. I am."

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

[mossangelll]

good luck on your exams! would love to hear some vi or sevika yandere headcanons

thank you so much!! my exams are starting this week and i’m pretty nervous >.<

i won’t go into too much detail, so if you’d ever want smth more detailed just drop an ask and i’ll (eventually lol) get to it :3

Yandere!Vi

one of the more ‘sane’ yanderes

tries her best to avoid kidnapping you; whilst her feelings for you are anything but normal, she still wants to feel like she’s in a relatively normal relationship with you

charms the pants off you with no trouble at all

you genuinely wouldn’t know anything was wrong with her - she seems so put together

you say yes to being her partner and that’s when you notice how controlling she can be

vi is smart enough to make sure that her less desirable tendencies don’t show up until you’re deeply entrenched in the relationship

it’s all peaches and cream until she’s punching the wall next to your head because you dared to talk to that guy at the bar

then all of a sudden you’ve got a curfew and can’t go anywhere without her

and before you know it you’re trapped inside your house because “it’s not safe out there in the lanes”

makes you get a tattoo with her name over your heart (she does the same)

however, if you’re somehow not charmed by her, she decides to turn to more…unorthodox methods

hires a street gang to rough you up a little - not enough to seriously hurt you, no, vi could never do that to you; just enough to knock some much needed sense into you

i mean, how can you not like her back???

she swoops onto the scene to save you and ensures you’re caught in her snares

the happy ever after you both deserve <3

Yandere!Sevika

sevika is an interesting yandere

she probably comes off as more of a stundete at first - she’s not the most expressive when it comes to showing romantic affection like some of the other yanderes

she keeps tabs on you, a regular at the bar, all the time but you’re convinced she hates you and must think you untrustworthy

why else would you be on her radar?

in reality her checking up on you, making sure nobody tries to be funny with you is her way of showing interest

don’t get me wrong, she can make a nun blush with her flirting skills but she’s never felt so obsessed with anyone before and doesn’t know how to process it

it all comes to a head when she has a particularly rough day at work, a few bourbons deep and she decides to take you

quite literally hooks her arms around you and carries you over her shoulders

it doesn’t matter how much or how loud you scream, it’s hopeless

she’s so much stronger than you and onlookers that watch your struggle don’t even dare to move an inch - sevika has a fierce reputation and nobody would want to anger her

can be very threatening and acts that way often at the beginning of your captivity

scolds you often and when you go on a hunger strike she rolls her eyes and force feeds you herself

you don’t see this coming but she makes you kiss her cheek before she leaves every morning and when she comes back at night

she doesn’t care if you look like you’re on the brink of tears doing so, to sevika it’s only fair she gets this when she’s busy protecting you every day

has you help her clean her prosthetic arm in pure silence

her favourite part of the day/week <3

she may be angry but at the end of the day every cruel and calculated thing she does is for your sake

[futfemfantasies]

A wedding to remember ~ Steph Catley x reader

Weddings in vineyards are always beautiful but it's something about the venue under the Australian sunset that makes it stand out. With fairy lights decorating the trees and rustic vibes from the wooden tables, Emily and Kat designed it perfectly. You watch the newlyweds have their first dance, a glass of champagne in hand, when you notice a familiar brunette join your other Matilda's teammates across the dance floor.

Steph has been in your life since you were teenagers. Growing closer when on camps together and sharing moments on and off the pitch. Between you both there has always been an unspoken connection that neither person wants to acknowledge. For many years now, there has been one complication for your friendship to progress further - Dean. You told yourself over and over again that there was no chance anything could happen. But Steph got engaged to Dean and you couldn't stand to see it so you move clubs to protect your feelings. Every camp for the national team you'd try to hide your feelings but many of your Matilda's teammates caught on quickly. Every time Steph glances your way, it becomes harder for you to keep those feelings settled.

The sun started to move behind the horizon and more people moved to the dance floor. You decided to stay back and watch, not really in a dancing mood. You heard heels click behind you and you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around and saw the woman taking over your thoughts since you arrived.

“Hey stranger,” She said softly.

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to appear nervous.

Steph smiled small, but warm. “You've been hiding over here all night.”

“Just enjoying the view.” you said, gesturing to the many trees in the vineyard.

Steph nodded, looking at the sunset and dimly lit trees before facing you again. “You've been radio silent lately, is everything okay?”

“Just a lot on my mind I guess.” you hesitated. Steph studied you, her expression unreadable.

“You know you can talk to me about anything?”

“I know.” you whisper before going to see your other Matilda's teammate.

Emily insisted that all the Matilda's are to go on the dance floor at least once during the night. Ellie dragged you on there, declaring you needed to ‘loosen up’. After pushing through the crowd, one of your favorite songs comes on. As you dance around with Ellie, she gives you a slight nod to look behind you. Steph was there with her hand outstretched, silently asking you to dance as the music got slower. You hesitate for a millisecond before taking Steph's hand. Time seemed to slow as Steph guided you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed your hand on her waist, trying to ignore all the feelings inside. Neither of you spoke for a while, just gently swaying with the soft melody, until Steph broke the silence.

“Dean and I broke up.” she said, voice quiet but steady.

You stopped in your tracks, looking Steph in the eyes. “what?”

“It's been coming for a while,” Steph admitted. “We both knew it wasn't working anymore,” Before you could respond she continued.

“I've been thinking a lot about what I want - about what makes me happy,” Her eyes met yours, hands tighten around your waist. “and it's you.”

Your breath hitched, as the weight of her words started to settle in. “Steph…”

“Follow me.”

Steph untangles from you and pushes her way through the crowd. You follow behind like a lost puppy until you get a little bit away from the reception. Steph pulls you in her arms and you search her face for any hint of doubt. There was only honesty and Hope.

“I've wanted to say this for so long,” you admit, as your voice trembled. “but I didn't think I could.”

Steph hold your face in one of her hands as she smiled, “well, now you can.”

With that, the distance between you became non-existent. the music Fading Into the background and all you can focus on is her. you both lean in and the wedding slowly forgotten as you two were caught up in each other.

The kiss under the stars changes everything. For the first time, the barriers between you and Steph crumble. As you pull back, your foreheads resting together, Steph smiles—a real, unforgettable smile that feels like home.

“We can’t keep this just for tonight,” she says softly.

You nod, your heart pounding. “I don’t want to.”

The rest of the wedding fades into a blur. You and Steph spend the next few days together, slipping away from the chaos to steal quiet moments just for yourselves. Long walks along the beach, lazy afternoons in the sun, and late-night conversations filled with laughter and shared memories remind you both of what you’ve always had—and what you could have.

As the offseason looms, you both return to Europe, reluctant to leave the bubble you’ve created but excited to see what the future holds. Steph heads back to London, while you return to Barcelona, the distance between you feeling more manageable now than ever before.

The transfer window is in full swing, and rumors are flying about player moves. You’ve kept your decision close to your chest, wanting to surprise Steph when the time is right. The deal with Arsenal has been finalised, and the announcement is just days away.

With the help of Caitlin and Katie, you arrange to meet Steph at one of your favorite coffee spots in London. She’s already seated at a corner table when you arrive, her face lighting up the moment she sees you.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she says, standing to hug you.

You grin, nerves bubbling under the surface. “I have a surprise.”

“Oh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as you both sit.

You slide an Arsenal scarf out of your bag and place it on the table between you. Steph stares at it for a moment, her eyes widening as realisation dawns.

“No way,” she says, her voice filled with disbelief and excitement.

“Way,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “The transfer is all finalised. I’m joining Arsenal next season.”

Steph laughs, leaning back in her chair as she takes it all in. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” you say. “Thought it was time for a change—and maybe time to be closer to you.”

Her smile softens, and she reaches across the table to take your hand. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

[rose24207]

Mafia lando smut where reader was mad at him from an argument the other day, so she spends heaps of money on his bank account. He doesn’t find out till the bank calls to make sure it wasn’t fraud. And he punishes her

Stress Shopping

Summary: After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: arguing, spending way too much money

A/N: loved the idea but I changed it a little! Hope you don’t mind! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the mansion, shaking the antique fixtures on the walls. You stomp into the grand foyer, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, your anger palpable in the air. Lando's sharp voice follows you, his British accent more clipped than usual.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, love!" he barks, his footsteps quick behind yours.

You spin on your heel to face him, eyes blazing with fury. "What do you want me to do, Lando? Stand there and listen while you talk to me like I’m one of your employees? Like I’m beneath you?"

His jaw tightens, the muscles working as he clenches his teeth. He’s wearing that infuriatingly expensive suit you helped him pick out, and right now, you’d love nothing more than to rip it off him—not in the fun way. "I don’t treat you like my employees," he growls. "But I am in charge, and you seem to forget that sometimes."

You laugh bitterly, crossing your arms. "Oh, how could I forget? You love reminding me every chance you get."

Lando rakes a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up slightly. Normally, the sight would make your heart soften, but right now, it only fuels your fire. "You’re being unreasonable," he snaps. "We had an agreement—"

"No, you had an agreement!" you interrupt, your voice rising. "I never agreed to this ridiculous, controlling nonsense, Lando."

His amber eyes flash dangerously. "Watch it," he warns, his voice low now, like a storm about to break. "You’re pushing me, and you know I don’t like being pushed."

But you’re too far gone to care. "And I don’t like being treated like some trophy wife who needs to follow orders. I’m done with this conversation."

Without waiting for his response, you grab your purse from the console table and march toward the front door. His voice chases after you. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you snap. "Don’t wait up."

Before he can stop you, you’re out the door, the evening air cool against your flushed skin.

The mall is your sanctuary. Under the glow of bright lights and the hum of happy chatter, you lose yourself in racks of designer clothing, rows of shoes, and glass cases of sparkling jewelry. Lando's black card burns a comforting weight in your purse, and tonight, you intend to make full use of it.

You start at Chanel, swiping the card for a pair of heels and a matching bag without so much as glancing at the price tag. Next is Cartier, where a sleek watch catches your eye. After that, you make your way to Dior, where a silk gown feels like the perfect antidote to your frustration.

Each purchase soothes the ache in your chest, replacing anger with satisfaction. By the time you leave the mall, your arms are laden with bags, and the backseat of your car is filled to the brim with boxes and tissue paper.

But your phone buzzes just as you’re pulling out of the parking lot. You glance at the screen and see Lando’s name flashing. You don’t answer.

Back at the mansion, Lando is pacing his study, his phone pressed to his ear. The man on the other end clears his throat nervously before speaking. "Mr. Norris, this is Daniel from Barclays. We’ve noticed some unusual activity on your account and wanted to confirm if your card has been compromised."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "What kind of activity?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"A series of high-value transactions," Daniel replies. "Chanel, Cartier, Dior... altogether totaling a little over seventy thousand pounds. Should we freeze the card?"

Lando smirks despite himself, shaking his head. "No, Daniel," he says, his tone resigned. "It’s just my wife... throwing a tantrum."

There’s a brief silence on the other end. "Ah," Daniel says finally, clearly unsure how to respond. "Very well, sir. Shall we flag the transactions as authorized?"

"Yes," Lando says. "And don’t call again unless it’s life or death."

You return home hours later, your anger dulled by exhaustion and the satisfying sight of your new purchases. You push open the door to the mansion, your arms laden with bags, only to find Lando waiting for you in the foyer. He leans against the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp features unreadable.

"Have fun?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

You ignore him, stepping past him with your head held high. But before you can make it far, he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm but not painful, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Don’t ignore me," he says softly, dangerously.

You whirl around to face him, the fire in your eyes reigniting. "What do you want, Lando? To scold me for spending your money? Go ahead—I’m sure you’ve got plenty of lectures lined up."

He doesn’t rise to the bait, his gaze steady on yours. "It’s not about the money," he says. "You know that."

"Then what is it about?" you demand. "Because I’m tired of fighting with you over every little thing."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, finally, he speaks. "It’s about us," he says. "About you running off every time we argue instead of dealing with it. You think throwing my money around is going to make things better?"

"It made me feel better," you snap, yanking your wrist out of his grip.

"Fine," he says, his voice cold now. "If that’s what you want—things, clothes, jewelry—then take it all. But don’t pretend it’s going to fix what’s wrong between us."

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. You stare at him, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears. "Maybe if you treated me like your wife instead of your possession, we wouldn’t have these problems," you say quietly.

Something flickers in his eyes—guilt, maybe. But he doesn’t respond, and you don’t wait for him to. You turn on your heel and head upstairs, leaving him standing alone in the foyer.

Hours later, you’re sitting in the walk-in closet, surrounded by your purchases. The excitement you felt earlier has faded, leaving behind a hollow ache. You sigh, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the Dior gown, wondering if you went too far.

A knock at the door startles you, and before you can respond, Lando steps inside. He looks tired, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled. In his hands, he’s holding a small box tied with a black ribbon.

"I brought you something," he says, his voice soft.

You raise an eyebrow. "More things? Haven’t I spent enough of your money today?"

He ignores your sarcasm, setting the box down on the bench beside you. "Open it," he says.

Curious despite yourself, you untie the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside is a delicate necklace, a simple gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. It’s nothing like the flashy pieces you bought earlier, but somehow, it feels more special.

"It’s not to bribe you," he says quickly, as if reading your mind. "I just... I wanted to remind you that I don’t care about the money or the fights. I care about you.“

You look up at him, your heart softening. "You have a funny way of showing it," you say, though your tone lacks its earlier bite.

He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. "I know," he admits. "I’m not perfect, and I don’t always know how to handle you when you’re upset. But I’m trying, love. I promise I’m trying."

For a long moment, you say nothing, letting his words sink in. Then, finally, you reach out and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubble. "I’m sorry too," you say. "I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. It wasn’t fair to either of us."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. "So... we’re okay?" he asks, his voice tentative.

You smile softly. "We’re okay."

The next morning, you wake up to find Lando already dressed, his tie perfectly knotted and his usual confidence back in place. He leans over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs," he says. "And I told the bank not to call me again if you go on another shopping spree."

You laugh, pulling the covers over your head. "Good. Because I might need a few more things."

He chuckles, his hand brushing against your hair. "Just try not to spend the GDP of a small country next time, yeah?"

You peek out from under the covers, grinning. "No promises."

And for the first time in days, everything feels right again.

Thank you for reading!

[tteotlma]

Sugar and Skin

First Encounter

Bucky’s never been sure if normalcy is something he’s cut out for. But when he meets you—a baker with a pretty smile—he starts to think maybe he could try.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (1.4kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI, mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers a/n: happy new year! this year i'd like to actually begin and complete a multi-parter story so this is my attempt!

---

“Welcome in!” Bucky heard as he stepped into the bustling cafe shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, and baked bread quickly engulfed him. He looked around for the source of the voice while taking in the neatly curated shelves of novels, mismatched wooden tables and the large handwritten chalkboard menu boasting about an array of the day’s specials. Despite its charm, Bucky felt heavily out of place in his chipped leather jacket, and mud cracked boots. 

With the patrons weaving past him like he was another display in the shop he continued scanning the area noticing a few stray cats lounging throughout the space. They basked in the early afternoon sunlight that poured through the large windows. One, a sleek gray cat with white mittens and socks stretched lazily on the windowsill, while another a white cat with piercing blue eyes, watched the room with curious intensity.

The customers greeted the felines as they entered the shop and followed the line that formed at the counter where a young man with boyish charm and unruly brown hair was expertly managing the register. Meanwhile a man with a clean shaven jawline and an infectious grin moved confidently between the counter and the coffee makers. 

“You need some help?”

Bucky turned to the voice, finding himself at the end of the display case with a woman on the other side. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping to frame her face. She barely paid him any mind as she deftly unloaded a giant tray of assorted pastries and bread into the glass showcase, her movements quick and practiced. The faint smudges of flour on her apron and the way she handled each item with care hinted at her role in crafting the delicacies.

“You look a little lost,” she said without looking up, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Can I help you find something, or are you just here to admire the cats?” she asked, finally glancing up at him. Her gaze was sharp but warm, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

 Her teasing tone caught him off guard, making him glance up sharply. His ears seemed to perk slightly, before he quickly refocused. “Pick up,” he said, his voice low and clipped, offering her a tight-lipped smile that was more reflex than intentional. 

She let out a small hum. “Name?” 

“Steve.” 

“Oh yes–” Her demeanor instantly changed as she put the tray down, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let me get that for you.” Her hands masterfully opened a paper bag with clear cellophane, and slid open the sliding door to the showcase.

“Sam!” She yelled, causing Bucky to jolt. “I need Steven’s special.” She called out, and Bucky's eyes flicked back to her. Steven.

He heard a faint reply from across the cafe commotion and watched as she used the metal tongs to grab two bear claws from the wax paper lined tray. Bucky almost let out a snort but instead, he opted to shove his hands in his pockets, glancing down to his boots. He watched as crumbs of dirt crumbled from his shoe and littered the linoleum floor.

“What’s the Steven Special?” Bucky suddenly heard himself say. He looked at her through his lashes. He watched a small smile sneak across her lips. 

“A medium white chocolate macchiato, with two bear claws.” She said, fingers crinkling the bag shut as she slid it across the clear surface. This time Bucky let out a snort. Before he could thank her, she went back to unloading her discarded tray. He hesitated on grabbing the bag. 

“So you’re the new guy then?” She asked suddenly, quickly glancing at him. He looked at her. “Stevie's mentioned he’s expecting a new comer, and I’ve never seen you before so—” she explained. Stevie.

“Then yeah.” He gave a curt smile, reaching for the bag on the counter. 

“Thought so,” she said, her tone a hint lighter now as she turned back to her work. “He’s been talking ‘bout you for weeks, you know.”

“Nothing bad I hope.” 

 She turned to set down the now empty tray, glancing over her shoulder, a glint in her eye. “Depends on your definition of bad.” Her tone was playful but laced with just enough intrigue to make him pause. She spins swiftly, closing the display case. 

“Nah,” She shrugs with a smirk, “He’s just psyched you're here, it’s kinda cute.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. She waves a hand in the air.

“He’s just got this way of talking about things—”

“Order up.” 

The sudden burst out causing the both of you to abruptly turn toward the man holding out an oat-colored to-go cup.

The woman cleared her throat, shifting back to allow space for the man to step in. Her smirk faded into a polite, neutral expression, her focus now on adjusting a tray of napkins nearby.

“Steven’s special,” the man announced, his grin wide and easy, breaking through the tension that had lingered just a moment earlier.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the man, who was now leaning casually against the counter, holding the cup out as if he were presenting a prized trophy.

Bucky nodded and reached for the cup, his movements deliberate. “Appreciate it,” he said, his voice steady. 

“No problem,” the man replied, his tone light and teasing. “Better get it to him quick, he’s been talking about the claws all morning.” 

“Noted,” Bucky muttered, though his gaze flickered back toward the woman, who was now bent over another display, her attention fixed on her work as if the earlier exchange had never happened.

The man cleared his throat sharply, drawing Bucky’s attention. When Bucky turned toward him, he was already side-eyeing the woman before shifting his gaze back to Bucky with a deadpan expression. It wasn’t accusatory, but there was a challenge in the look—like he’d caught Bucky doing something he shouldn’t be.

Bucky’s brow twitched in response, his face otherwise impassive, and he adjusted the bag in his hand.

“Thanks again,” he said curtly, stepping back from the counter.

Sam held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned his attention away from him.

Bucky stepped toward the door, the hum of the café enveloping him once more. His grip tightened slightly on the bag as he moved, but something tugged at his attention, making him glance back one last time.

The man was now leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed, but his head tilted toward the woman. Whatever he’d said caused her to laugh softly, her shoulders shaking with the motion. The earlier ease in her posture had returned, her movements efficient and unbothered, as though their exchange had been nothing more than a routine part of her day.

She brushed a strand of hair from her face as she replied, her voice lost in the café’s hum. They shared another laugh.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, though his face betrayed nothing as he turned back toward the door. Pushing it open, he stepped into the cool air outside, the bell above jingling faintly as the door closed behind him.

As he walked down the street, the warmth of the café began to fade, but the soft intensity of the exchange lingered. He shook his head with a quiet huff of air, the bag crinkling faintly in one hand while the other held the to-go cup. His boots scuffed lightly against the pavement as he approached a sleek, dark car parked a few steps ahead.

Bucky unlocked it with a press of a button, the quiet beep breaking the stillness. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he set the paper bag on the passenger side and the cup in the holder before resting his hands on the steering wheel.

For a moment, he sat there, the hum of the café replaying in his mind. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it.

With a twist of the key, the engine purred to life, the quiet power of the car grounding him. As he pulled out onto the street, the cool air rushing through the window carried away the lingering warmth of the café—but not entirely.

---

a/n: I know there's barely anything there but I have an idea and im jsut trying to roll with it -- so if you have any ideas let me know! i’m begging — pls reblog to support!

[rhenuvee]

The Secret Menu [Diluc x reader]

Summary: Diluc's love for you is overflowing, so he wants to find a way to show you... [established relationship]

A/N: Happy new year everyone! Manifesting positive vibes and good health for you all! Sorry for the inactivity again, I am trying to post and interact more but clearly it's difficult aaa

Warnings: Old draft... just trying to get rid of it so sorry if this is cringe and rushed

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

"...What's your favourite drink?"

Diluc asks this one evening you decide to accompany him at the Angel's Share. You're in a safe spot, closest to him of course. He was thinking about something for quite a while- something to surprise you with.

"My favourite drink..?"

You didn't think anything of the question, though you were curious when you saw Diluc's expression- deep in thought, yet spaced out. You give it some thought and he listens attentively as you talk about the drinks you like: You ramble about the sweet fruit juice which was your first drink Diluc gave you at the Angel's Share, the milky drink you had that quenched your thirst on hot days, a flowery drink you had in Liyue that soothed your stomach...

A week passed, and you felt like Diluc was busying himself more. You decided to visit him again at his work, but surprisingly he approached you with a task.

"Could you try these for me?" He places four small glasses in front of you, with the same coloured liquid in them.

"Oh! Is this going to be on the menu?" You ask while examining the liquid curiously before trying them.

"S-Sort of." He replies. He places a glass of water to reset your tastes after each one, as well as a tissue just in case. How sweet, you think, smiling at the thought of his care for you. However, you don't expect even more sweetness when you try each one, the subtle differences on your tongue.

"Mm, they're all really good 'Luc~" He relishes in your delighted expression, eyes closed and smiling for the taste of the drink he made. But just this once there's something else he's anticipating. He waits patiently for your comments as you think of what to say. "Three has a thicker texture, while two has more sweetness from the fruit you added. I'm not sure which one patrons would like more, though..."

"Which one do you like?" Diluc asks straightforwardly. He internally smiles at how sweet yet honest you were with your feedback. But your opinion is what he needs.

"Me?" You ask. And suddenly you feel a hint of something different in the way the asks you this with softness. The way he looked at you so lovingly- well he always does, but it felt like the same look he gave you when he held you close at night, soothing you before finally falling asleep. Or when he arrived with flowers for you when you go on dates. "I like this one the best, but maybe with a bit more of the fruity flavour."

Diluc only quietly nods and immediately gets started on the change you suggested. It is from this response that you wonder what's got him distracted- or rather what he's puzzled about. You've come to know that this is the face he makes when he is thinking hard about something.

"Why do you ask...?" You subtly ask, almost as a whisper. You didn't want to intrude in case this was a secret. You so soft that you weren't sure if he heard you and if you should repeat it. But Diluc always hears your voice. He turns to you, and gives the new and improved drink without saying a word. You're too occupied with the anticipation of the new taste, so you don't notice the blush slowly rising on his cheeks and his furiously beating heart. You take a sip and your eyes widen.

"It's perfect." You blink with a smile, giving him the positive note that he's made it the best. However, you don’t seem to realize his true intention with the drink until you look at your lover’s tender expression.

"It's for you." He says softly, looking at you dearly. He relishes in the moment that your mouth subtly hangs in an O-shape, expressing your surprise.

Yes, your favourite drink. He wanted to make something for you. However, he couldn't paint pictures as good as his father did. Though he can cook, he doesn't think he'll master dishes as well as Adelinde and the other maids. And Diluc would absolutely kill for the ability to make you a piece of jewelry, but his hands are too coarse, he thinks. Not delicate enough to make you something of quality- something perfect for you. He wants to make something from his own hand- that showed his love. And so...

"You made a drink for me?" You repeat in a question, starting to feel emotional. Your hands instantly feel the need to pull your lover closer, and he notices as he complies with your movement, leaning toward you and letting you hook your arms around his neck.

Diluc gives a soft but slow nod, but it's all that's needed to convey his confirmation of love. You share a quick kiss, letting your lips submit to the rhythm he guides you with. His large hand comes over to smooth against the skin of your cheek, then grazes behind your ear. You both pull back, relishing in the short and sweet moment, unable to stop the smiles on your faces.

Though you've been together for a while, you always appreciate his thoughtful gestures and how he reaffirms his love for you more and more. You love the drink Diluc made for you, but most of all, you love him.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: POSSIBLE SUICIDAL INTENT, gore metaphor, self harm (reader scratching herself as a coping mechanism), manipulation.

You remember that time.

You remember that time when Dad looked happy—a nearly foreign sight. For what felt like ages, he had been frowning, dark circles under his eyes, the visible crease on the side of his mouth ever since the constant fights between him and Mother.

But lately, he's been smiling; he's been humming the tune you thought he'd forgotten. You also remember plopping down next to him on the couch, cheeks puffed out, eager to know what had him in such a good mood. "Daddy, what are you smiling about?" you asked then, and yet-

And yet, the moment he heard that, something in his eyes abruptly dimmed, just like it always did whenever Mother walked into the room. You instantly regret speaking up, wishing you had just stayed silent and let him bask in his already rare moment of happiness.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” as Mom used to say. This time, your curiosity will kill Dad. So, you’re never curious again, never dared to ask again.

Dad has been coming home later and later, leaving barely any time for you to spend together. It’s like he’s always working, always busy. Gone are the days of sneaky trips to the ice cream shop or casual strolls through the park. Sometimes, you compare yourself to that old dog the Jenkins had—the one they stopped walking because they lost that love they had when he was still a cute little puppy.

It was as if the unhappiness that had held Dad back had somehow transferred over to Mother.

Lately, the fights between your parents had become increasingly frequent, leading you to shut yourself away in your bedroom and sing loudly just to drown out the noise. Mother would often sigh heavily, slamming the cupboards like she had some kind of grudge against them. The constant frowning had begun to etch deep wrinkles onto her face, and the dark circles under her eyes appeared to grow darker with each passing day. She was even losing her hair—the bathroom sink was a testament to that.

You started to notice strange behaviors from Mother as well. She would constantly check Dad’s phone whenever he was in the bathroom, rummaging through the trash for any stray pieces of paper or receipts, even asking you to check his clothes and bring them to her. Whenever Dad came home, she would confront him, demanding to know why he was home so late.

Everything feels weird. When you try to ask them, they will shut you down, telling you it is a “parents’ problem”—something a child like you shouldn’t know or have any business in.

But their “parents’ problem” quickly becomes yours when you always find yourself lying in bed, desperately trying to drown out another round of their arguing. You even start wishing you could spend more time at your friends' houses just to avoid being at home. Every night, you pray for it to stop.

For this to end. Until it does.

The “parents’ problem” that has been brewing for months finally rears its head when Dad stops coming home altogether. The silence you have grown accustomed to was quickly shattered by the sound of Mother’s hysterical crying, accompanied by the slamming of cabinets and the crashing of plates being thrown across the kitchen. You stop in your tracks, heart pounding as a silhouette emerges.

Mother. She walks toward you, her long hair plastered to her tear-streaked face, and-

And she smelled something like the alcohol Dad used to hide in the fridge. She grips your arms in a tight, almost bruising grip, leaning down to look you straight in the eye.

"I was right, sweetheart. Mommy was right," she whispered, her voice hoarse from all the shouting. "Mommy was right all along." She repeats the phrase over and over, as if you'd eventually grasp its meaning. After all, you were her daughter; you should understand.

But you didn’t. For goodness’ sake, you were just an eight-year-old girl—just enough brains to process why Dad didn’t come to your ballet recital despite his promise, just enough to try to understand why Mother was like this. What was she right about? Was Dad never coming home again? When is he coming back? So many questions, few to no answers. Not enough courage to let them swim to the surface because exactly what Mom said—“Curiosity killed the cat.”

Biting your lip, you ask in a small, fearful voice. “What are we talking about, Mommy?”

Mother took a shaky breath, her eyes so swollen and red from crying that you wondered if she might actually take her last breath right then and there. It makes you wonder if losing the supposed love of her life truly felt like a kind of living death.

“Your father…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Your father, he’s… He’s not coming back, baby.”

Something about her own words brought anger to her face. Mother’s visage contorted into unbridled rage, teeth bared and nose scrunched up. You cry out in pain as she grips your arms tighter.

“He’s not coming back! Your father is with another woman—a WHORE! So don’t you DARE go looking for him, because he’s not coming back!”

At that moment, you didn't know which was scarier—Dad not coming back or Mother's anger. Or the thought that this meant you would be living alone with her. Even so, your lips began to tremble and you began to cry.

The anger that mother had was long-lived. Sometimes, it seemed like it outlasted the love she had once held for your father. Or perhaps, in a twisted way, that anger was just an extension of that love. The wound that mother carried was as deep as her affection had been. Love. Seeing its manifestation through your parents' relationship, it appeared like a despicable thing meant for people on a dark path.

Mother never truly recovered from it.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, even year after year, the anger never left her—it simply transformed into a hollow, empty place where the light once resided. Did Dad take it with him when he went off with that woman—that "whore," as Mother had said?

Still, you suppose it was better than those times when Mother would go out for drinks and come back late or even fail to come fetch you from ballet class. More often than not, it was a friend's mother who ended up dropping you home. Some questions they asked about your mother: "Is she okay?" and “Are you okay?”

That, you never know how to answer. Sure, you're doing fine at school and in your ballet classes—your toes are a little sore sometimes, but your teacher says that’s expected. And it’s not like Dad’s gone forever or dead. He’s still out there, even if he wasn’t coming home. Mom is still here, even if sometimes it feels like she doesn’t really see you.

… What an odd thing to feel, an even weirder thing to complain about. When Mother wasn’t at work, she was always there when you came home. She was easy to find in her room except on nights when she went out drinking and came back late, drowning herself in tears.

And yet, it felt like she wasn’t there at all. Dad left, and Mother was gone.

So, when that question was asked, you would just smile and say you were doing fine, that everything was okay. Yes, it was strange, unsettling, but everything was okay.

At least before you hit your teenage years.

Where did this change come from? Where did this hatred come from? Someone flipped a switch, turning your hollow mother into a bitter, resentful woman even to her own daughter. Slowly but surely, you begin to notice the glares she throws at you—the same ones she sports when talking about other women, as she said, “Look at the way she dresses, like some cheap harlot.”

“Change.” One day, she said, her voice sharp and commanding.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What? Change what?”

Mother's eyes narrowed, settling her gaze on your chest, then your stomach—you hold your breath from the burn of her glare. “I said, change. What, you don't see how you look?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “I don't know who gave you the confidence, but it's like you're asking for it.”

The sting of her words spread across your sternum, and you bite your inner cheek to keep yourself from crying. "But you said this looked good the other day."

“Then I said wrong, change.”

“But I like this top,” you protest, but you add a hollow chuckle for good measure, wanting to avoid coming off as defiant. “And it’s the only thing yellow in my closet.”

Mother’s lips thinned into a disapproving line. “You still have that yellow hoodie.”

“But it’s a birthday party! In the summer!”

“That’s too bad. Either you change, or you’re not going.”

Deciding the conversation is over, your mother walks past you. As you feared, she stops, sweeping her critical gaze over your face. The crease between her brows deepens; her lips curl into a sneer.

“And what’s with all that makeup? You’re trying too hard. Tone it down.”

You say nothing, fixating instead on the mild sting of your nails digging crescents into your palms. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Hasn’t this happened before? Why aren’t you used to this yet? The thing about you is that you cry over the same things over and over again, asking questions you already know you don't understand. “Why would Mom say that to me?” echoed in your mind, and yet, the answer remains elusive, so stop asking that!

You flinched as your mother suddenly swiped her fingers across your lips, smearing your carefully applied lipstick. Out of instinct, you quickly swatted her hand away.

“Mom, stop!”

“A lipstick on a pig is still a pig,” she spat, her hatred for you dripping—soaking into your skin and inciting your own blood to boil and burn you from the inside. “No matter how thick that makeup is, you’ll never be like those pretty girls. So stop trying.”

Your breath catches, your throat tightens. Mother finally walks past you, leaving you to “self-reflect,” expecting you to be on your right side of the brain after. To change your clothes, remove that makeup. “A lipstick on a pig is still a pig,” she says. Your lips quiver; the headache doubles.

Which one you loathe the most, you can't even say for sure. This tube top or the color. Your blush or your lipstick. You and your tendency to persist when you should stop—that you're ugly, a pig, and you'll never be those pretty girls.

You will never be those pretty girls.

You will never be...

Her.

Hayley. You couldn't help yourself from poring over the name on Facebook after hours of scouring for a hint of who she is and what's so special about her. And from what you can tell, she was everything you're not. With her big, bright blue eyes framed by dark, mascara-laden lashes, her light blonde hair, and that perfectly sun-kissed skin. Not to mention she has a figure that just fits right – a body a girl would die for. Hayley's life is balanced between her rising career and her enjoyment, as evidenced by several uploaded holiday photos in Southeast Asia, in places like Bali, Koh Rong, Phuket, Kuala Lumpur, Chiang Mai, and Singapore. She has a good relationship with her parents—both her biological ones and her stepparents. She has a golden retriever named Barney.

You knew enough to understand that she was the type of girl who frequented the clubs, not the quiet pubs where Simon and she met. The only reason she was even there was because of her dark-haired friend, who was now tipping her head back to finish another shot glass.

Are you stalking her? Yes, you suppose you are—there’s no point in denying it when you’re sitting at a bar, watching the social butterfly laugh with her equally beautiful friends. But you’re maintaining your distance, aren’t you? You’re not doing this because you’re a pervert (not that this justifies anything, you're aware)—you just need to know about her, to confirm something.

(Curiosity killed the cat.)

Hayley laughed again, her head thrown back, golden hair cascading down her back. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the way her glossy lips parted to reveal a perfect set of teeth. She and her group of friends looked like they were engaged in some kind of game, and as the loser, Hayley stood up and made her way to the bar. You looked up, pretending to sip at the drink you ordered earlier, appearing casual.

“Four Margaritas, love.” Hayley requested of the bartender, who responded with a nod to acknowledge her order over the din.

The man left his post to get something from the backroom. There wasn't much to do in the bar besides tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the shiny bar surface. Hayley swept a bored glance around: the strobe lights, the DJ booth and the drunk people dancing around it, the crowded booths at the ends of the room, and more drunk people.

Then, her eyes landed on you. Something ignited in those cerulean irises.

A confident smile played on her lips. “Hi there,” she said to you, voice sweet like honey. "Mind if I join you?"

For a moment, your brain stops thinking—completely caught off guard. Hayley doesn’t wait for your response, already sliding into the seat next to you. She widens her smile, the apples of her cheeks lifting fascinatingly. This was not how you envisioned this encounter going at all.

“I’m Hayley, by the way.” She gives you her name that you’ve known before she even knew you existed. You can’t help but wonder if she said the same thing to Simon that night, if he bore into her blue eyes like you do now.

You managed a small, nervous smile. In response, you provided your name, and Hayley tried it on her plump lips. Up close, she was even more stunning—her flawless skin, perfect makeup base, the way the low lighting cast shadows across her face. How was it possible that someone could be so effortlessly gorgeous? What's more, she didn't just seem kind; she also appeared humble and genuine—the type of beautiful girl who didn’t flaunt her good genes or think she was better than everyone else.

Still, despite all that, your dislike for her continues to grow. It’s almost unfair that she gives you nothing but kindness and you try to find her flaws, something that you hope will mar her perfection.

“Are you here all on your own?” Hayley asks again, to which you nod.

Despite already knowing she didn't come alone, you ask anyway, "You?"

“Me?” Hayley glance over her shoulder towards her table. “I’m here with a few friends. Say, love, why don’t you join us? It gets a bit boring sitting on your own, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m kind of not used to such large groups,” you say, only to realize how lame it sounded. The poorly constructed excuse lays out the contradiction more clearly, like a lie written on a billboard. If you’re really the awkward, socially withdrawn weirdo you paint yourself to be, what are you even doing in one of the most crowded places in town?

Yet, Hayley didn't seem to judge you. The raised brow indicated that she thought it was strange, but her lips quirked up in a small smile, as if she found you… interesting.

“That's alright, darling. But you wouldn't mind a bit if I stayed here with you, would you?”

“Not at all.”

Hayley smiled, fishing her phone out of her purse. “Well, I was supposed to grab the next round for the girls, but I’ll just text them to grab the drinks. I reckon they can manage without me for a little while.” She opened her texting app, her manicured fingers making little tapping sounds as she typed.

Soon enough, a dark-haired woman approached the bar. Hayley greeted her friend, introducing her to you and you to her. The other woman smiled and nodded, but not wasting more time before saying goodbye to you and taking the drinks to their table. And just like that, you were alone with Hayley once again.

It makes you wonder why she even bothers to spend time with you—a complete stranger she just met. Is she always like this—always approaching and engaging with people she knows little about? Is that why she approached Simon the other day?

You grip your glass, soaking your fingers from the condensation around it. A temporary distraction from the memories that flash through your mind.

“Sooo, you seeing anyone at the moment?”

When that bold question came out of Hayley’s mouth, you came to a conclusion about her. It was clear that she was the type of woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. The type to pop the question out before dealing with the answer—and whatever it is, she actually has the guts to deal with it. What other people think or feel about her does not define her, and that speaks volumes about the kind of person she is.

It also speaks to the kind of person you are.

Inevitably your thoughts drift to Simon. Shaking your head, you answer her question. “No, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

Then, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “And what about you? You’re not married, are you?”

Hayley laughs at that, wiggling her ringless fingers. “No ring on.”

“Not with anyone?”

An amused smile was etched on her face. “Don’t you worry, love. I’m a free bird, through and through.” She said as she leaned closer to you, the intoxicating blend of floral and citrus notes entering your olfactory. “Why? Got somethin' fun on your mind?”

At this close proximity, you could almost feel the warmth of her breath upon your cupid's bow. Up close, her physical details came into sharper focus—the freckles that peppered her nose, her deep-set eyes, a small mole sitting above the rosy pink of her lips, and the way her lip gloss glistened under the dim, hazy club lights.

And her lips. The ones that touched Simon’s.

The agony coursed through you, pumping in sync with each beat of your heart, spreading into the farthest reaches of your body. Poison in your blood. Thoughts raced in a frenzied, feral way that defied logic and reason. You wondered what it must have felt like for Simon. Had her kisses been soft and sweet, the kind that made him melt? Or were they passionate and hungry, with him nibbling and biting at her flesh?

Memories of that night are recalled to your mind, the image of their bodies pressed together coming with absolute clarity. The way he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, the way she hooks her legs around him.

Before you can register what you’re doing, you close the remaining space between you and Hayley, crashing your lips against hers in a kiss that’s almost daring. But it’s desperation that fuels you—your desperation to find any trace of him in her mouth, across her palate, beneath her tongue. You wonder if she can taste it, the bitterness of you. But when she kisses you back, more roughly and greedily, you find the answer.

Around you, the deafening music continues to play, the flashing lights like a kaleidoscope that twists and turns. Your olfactory senses register the strong smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and tears well up in the corners of your eyes. It reminds you of him—everything reminds you of him. Simon is everywhere but here. Even as you kiss another, it’s him you expect instead. You can’t help but wonder if it was the same for him that night—did he think of you as he sank deep inside of her?

When the kiss was broken, Hayley was about to smile at you before something faded it. A fat tear ran down your cheek. She furrowed her brows in concern.

“Hey, are you alright?” She asked, her accent growing thicker with worry. “Did I do something wrong? Go too far, perhaps?”

Hayley’s soft hands reached up, wiping away the salty liquid from your cheeks. You bit your bottom lip to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. “N-no, it’s nothing,” you stuttered, voice barely above a whisper as you erased your own tears with the back of your hand.

Swallowing hard, your vision blurs again. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I need to... I need to go.”

Without another word, you turned and fled, ignoring Hayley calling your name. Pushing your way through the throngs of people, you made a beeline for the exit. The air in your lungs seemingly thinning, and your throat tightening. You switched to breathing through your mouth, as it was becoming increasingly difficult. A taxi approached, slowing down when you waved at it.

Two hours had passed since you fled the club, two hours spent waiting in suspense until, finally, the vehicle's headlights flickered to life, followed by the beeping sound indicating someone unlocked it. You remained silent, hearing the footsteps getting louder before you slowly rose to your feet, turning to face the person who had emerged.

“Simon.”

The owner of the name stood frozen in his tracks. The dim lighting of the streetlights only added to your difficulty in obscuring whatever expression he was sporting, but you didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

For a solid two minutes, his name was the only word spoken between the two of you. It wasn't like you were generous enough to offer him time to fully process the situation—no, it was more because you wanted to see how Simon Riley would react, how Simon Riley would deal with the unexpected.

You caught the way his mask slightly shifted—he clenched his jaw. “How?”

Instead of answering, you take a stuttering breath, feeling invisible needles piercing through your chest. “I forgot something in your car.” You tell him.

Simon's frown deepened, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to contemplate your words. It was absurd—after all these weeks, here you are, standing in front of his apartment, having somehow discovered the address, and claiming to have forgotten something in his car.

But he doesn't say anything, just continues to make his way to the car. You follow closely behind him. He opens the door to the passenger seat, then steps aside to let you check the car. You stretch your hand under the passenger seat, blindly feeling for anything, brushing through the dust and small gravel collected there until you finally touch something cold and metallic.

Pulling it out, the phone you had planted there weeks earlier came into view. You knew this meant Simon had laid his eyes on it too. It wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots and figure out you had been tracking him this whole time.

Fucking hell. Simon remembered what he had said about modern phones. He closed the car door with a sharp click, then turned to you.

“So you’ve been followin’ me, then?”

“You didn't return my texts,” you stated bluntly.

"I asked you a question." He growls, almost like he's threatening you.

You observed the anger brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, radiating from him like a hot flame. Good, you thought silently. At least there was something that riled him up; otherwise, you would be suffering alone while he goes to fuck any willing bodies he can get his hands on.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask again. “Why does it say your number is no longer in service? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he snap, voice dripping with venom. “You think I owe you an explanation?”

Your blurry vision missed a flicker of change in his expression. When the tears escaped and the world came into focus again, all you saw was Simon locking his jaw, irritation radiating from him. He turned and began to walk away.

You followed him, quickening your pace to catch up. “Simon! Simon, wait!”

Despite your best efforts, he continues to keep his back turned to you, refusing to even spare you a glance. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, seemingly hell-bent on creating a vast gulf between you. You called out his name once more, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night, but he kept right on walking.

“Yes, I deserve an explanation! I don’t know why you’re being like this. We were fine the last time we were together. What happened? Why did you just disappear on me?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the sleeve of his jacket to get him to stop and face you. He came to a halt. A jolt of electricity surged through you as he encircled your fingers with his own, but it soon faded as he let go of your grip on the leather. Something inside you dropped away, leaving a shameful hollow space inside.

Simon towers over you, his stature imposing and intimidating. He locks a hard glare on you. “I asked you a question, didn't I?” His voice fell to a dangerously low tone. “Why the fuck have you been following me?”

The dam holding back your tears broke, leaving you choking on your own sobs. How could he not know? All these tears, all these cries… how could he still fail to see that it was all for him? To be stripped bare only for him to overlook it. Should you skin yourself alive then? To tear your heart out, to hold the raw, bleeding organ in the palm of your trembling hand as an offering?

“Because I want to know where you are,” You settle for the simpler version, hyperventilating as you take a breath. “You know my place, my workplace... You even went to my cousin’s wedding. And yet, I know nothing about you, Simon. Nothing.”

“You think just ‘cause we fucked a few times, that gives you the right to pry into my life?”

A sharp pang of pain shot through your chest. The world was ruby-colored, either from your boiling anger or the hemorrhage from the sharpness of his words. Your jaw clenched, your gaze sharpened.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you spat. “You know we’re not just fucking.”

The clenched fists at your sides tremble, and you don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt or the weight of your own expectation to make him see it. Or perhaps it’s all three. How could he speak like this when there's a specific section in your dresser for the clothes he frequently brings and leaves, when he constantly returns and stays longer even as the morning has risen, when he drove you to the countryside and dances and twirls you around like those old couples do? Not when he embraces you until your tears subside, nor when each of his kisses offers that one thing you've chased your whole life.

There’s no way this isn’t love. He just needs to stop denying it.

Simon's eyes narrowed into slits. "Then you read it all wrong, darlin'."

The way he said it was cold, without a shred of sympathy—but nothing was colder than the way Simon continually turned his back to you as he continued to walk farther and farther away, as if all he wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. Disgusting woman in love. But you never got the hint, did you? You kept following him, running after him like a stupid little dog created solely to love, love, love, and never be loved back.

“Is that the reason, Simon?” You cried, voice cracking. “Is that why you fucked that woman—Hayley?”

“Who?”

“Hayley. The woman you fucked in the back of that pub alley! Was that why you left me?”

For the first time, Simon was lost for words, gears turning behind his brown eyes. He let out a frustrated sigh, jaw clenched tight. “You fucking stalked me?”

“I did,” you admitted, but this wasn’t an admission of guilt, nor an act of taking accountability. The words falling from your lips lacked the necessary remorse for either of those things. “I know it’s wrong, but—”

“Wrong?” Simon scoffed. “Christ, you’re bloody mental if you think that’s just wrong.”

You try to draw a deep breath through your mouth, your shoulders stuttering with the effort. The pain and the anguish are written all over your face, reddening your skin. But then, something shifts—and when you open your eyes, you are someone new.

Simon watched a thin smile spread across your swollen lips. “Do you think she's a good kisser?”

The question slipped out of you in a voice that was just barely above a whisper, but in the stillness of the night, Simon heard it, caught your quiet words. There was no faltering in your voice, no quaver, no stutter. He felt your pupils searing his skin hotter than the mansion’s fire.

“What?” He asked again, making sure he hadn’t misheard.

You were more than happy to repeat. “Do you think Hayley is a good kisser? Because I know she is—I kissed her. How did she taste? Did you enjoy it?”

“Fucking hell, you’re a fuckin’ psycho.”

“Did she moan when you kissed her, Simon? Did she wrap her arms around you, pull you in closer? Did you run your fingers through her hair—her body? Did she moan your name the way I do when we’re—”

You cut yourself off, your breath hitching again. The numbing agent has worn off, and now you're paying the withdrawal tenfold. Like your own personal hell, the memory of your intimate moments together replays, leaving nothing but a bitter taste and more hot, salty tears streaming down your face.

 “Did she feel as good as I do when you’re buried deep inside me?”

Simon didn't respond, remaining silent. Or perhaps this very silence was his answer. He was always a man of few words, preferring to act instead. Right now, his actions spoke louder than anything.

“Or was she better?” You hissed. “ANSWER ME!”

Nothing. Even when you scream in his face, he keeps giving you nothing. This is the man you love—only able to take, take, and take until there is nothing left to fill the cavern he leaves behind.

You take a step towards him, hands trembling by your side. “Can she love you like I do?”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your love and pain. You caught the way Simon’s eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly returned to their stoic stare, and the mask—that damn mask—hid too much for you to make any conclusions about him. The unfairness was palpable: you were tearing your heart out, vulnerable and all exposed for him—while he was hiding behind a mesh of polypropylene.

Always guarded, always unreachable.

Simon’s shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, gazing up at the sky before turning back to you. “You need to go home.”

“What?”

Before you could really process his words, Simon had already turned and was walking briskly to his car, his broad back starting to move away from you. Hurriedly, you ran after him, your hands outstretched to grab anything of his. Stop. Stop walking away. Stop trying to leave me.

“Simon!” You called out—God, how you hated how weak and pleading it sounded. “Simon, wait! Listen to me!”

Simon reaches his car, already grasping for the handle. Panic rises in your throat. He yanks the door open, ready to get in. Your mind is gripped with desperation, scrambling to find something—anything—to keep him here with you, and yet the only thing that can act fast enough is your voice.

“”Go home,” That’s your response, Simon? After everything I just confessed to you? I just laid my heart bare—I told you that I love you, and your answer is to tell me to go home?!”

You flinch at the sudden slam of the car door. Simon whirls around to face you, chin held high, imprisoning you under his angry gaze. “YES, I'm tellin' you to fucking go home!” He roars, his booming voice quickening your pulse. “I don't want this sappy shit you're tryin' to dump on me. Go home an' leave me the fuck alone!”

“NO!” You shouted, voice cracking as you dangled on the edge of control—on the verge of crumbling. “I won't go home! I-I love you! I don't want to go home!"

You stepped forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. "Is it because of me?" you questioned, as if this was the only possible explanation. “Because if it is, I can fix it! I can be whatever you want me to be—I don't care! You don't even have to love me back! Just please, don't leave. If you want, you can always use me—just keep using me. Just don't go, Simon. Please, please, don't leave me."

Because there will always be a really bad part of you that ruins everything. No matter how deeply you love or how faithful your devotion is, it will taint it. At the end of the day, it will be worth nothing. So, if your body is the only thing that would satisfy him—distracting him from your inability to make him love you—then so be it. You were always the cheap and vulgar daughter, after all.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed under his breath. “Stop. Fuckin' stop sayin' shit like that 'bout yerself.”

Despite all your pleading, Simon remains the same man he always was. A rotten one, selfish—a stray dog who loves to wander. He hasn’t changed—his dead heart has no room for your love, for you. The more you try to hold him, the more he eludes your grasp. Perhaps he has grown so accustomed to sadistic things that a woman tearing out her heart for him doesn't faze him anymore.

Or worse: he loves things like this.

A raw, throbbing heart—the soft feast of organs for a home-fashioned dinner. The beautiful swan—you, heart enlarged and sweet from your consumption of his deceit. His prized delicacy, just the way he likes it.

You felt Simon’s hands wrap around your wrist, prying your fingers off him. “No, please! Don’t go, don’t leave!”

But he was unyielding, his mind pinpointed on one goal: to get away from you. He pushed you back. You watched as he turned and opened the car door, sliding inside. Hastily, you tried to wrench the car door open—he had locked it from the inside. You slam your hands against the window.

“Simon! Simon, please!”

The glass vibrated under the force of your blows; your palms stinging with the impact. Tears streamed down your face as you continuously hit the window. Simon turned on the ignition.

“GET OUT!! I’ll die if you leave! I’LL DIE IF YOU LEAVE!”

The car lurched forward; Simon's face remained obscured from view. Your hand slides off the glass as the vehicle speeds away. The sound of the engine faded into the distance, taking with it the last piece of your shattered heart.

You stood there, frozen, alone on the empty street. He was gone.

The bitter realization hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. You sank to your knees, hands clutching at the fabric of your coat as uncontrollable sobs wracked your body. He was gone, and your last memory of him was his dark eyes staring at you as you begged to mean something to him.

But would it make a difference if the last recollection of him stayed on that sunny day in the countryside? Would everything have been better if you hadn't come here?

You dig your fingernails into the back of your hand, hoping the sting will distract you like it did before. Yet, even after collecting your own skin beneath your nails, the long-awaited numbness never comes. Or is it because no amount of bodily harm can relieve the agony?

(It feels like a kind of living death, doesn’t it?)

Sometimes, you get jealous of euthanized dogs.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull @olives10 @cricricorner

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 1, a familiar stranger

Masterlist Word count: 1.2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. No graphic content yet.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Did Rafayel find someone to rent my apartment yet,' Zayne questions as he puts two mugs of tea on your coffee table. You shrug in response. 

'Haven't heard anything yet, but knowing him, it'll probably be soon.' Zayne smiles at your sulking expression. He reaches out to ruffle a hand through your hair. You quickly smack his hand away and stare at him with pretend anger. 

'How have you been holding up without me?' That question is loaded, and he knows it. For the past four years, he has been your neighbor. But he has always been much more than that. 

When he noticed you were living on your own, he would sometimes bring over leftovers. Some days you would come home to a note taped on your door with a request to be quiet because he had a long shift and another even longer shift coming up. You started doing the same, but with notices if you had someone over or were doing something that could cause noise. Eventually, you two got to talking and formed a familial relationship. It always felt like you had a big brother looking out for you. 

Ever since he moved to the next city over to work in another hospital, you have missed him tons. Sometimes it hurts when you realize you can't just walk two steps from your front door and be talking to him. Meeting up is even more strenuous than it was before, and you miss him like crazy. It's not just the proximity though, no, it's also that you don't know everything going on in his life anymore. He's doing amazing things, meeting amazing people, helping to make the world a better place, and you barely know the names of his closest colleagues. 

'I'm fine,' but your voice betrays you, trembling throughout your words. Zayne's eyes look worried, and his hand moves to touch your shoulder to comfort you. 'I'm fine, really. Just getting used to being alone in the city again.' 

'You're not alone anymore. You've got Tara, and you get along alright with that new colleague of yours, right? Jeremiah?' 

'I know, it's just...' He reaches out to pull you into his chest. 

'I understand. I miss you too.' 

'I just hope the next person is nice too,' you mumble against his shirt while he gently rubs your back. All this feels so normal, so nice. You're not sure if you'll ever fully get over not living next to Zayne anymore. It was perfect, and now it's gone. You can't blame him though. This was a very important step for his career and you're glad he did it, it just makes you feel like you're stuck in the same place all over again.  

Everything just feels so stagnant, so normal. Like nothing ever changes. You can only tell that time has passed by your growing fingernails and the dust building up on your windowsill... You should really clean. It's been too long. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'This is nice,' Luke awes as he walks into Sylus’ new apartment. The place is completely empty and there's a bit of an echo, but he's right. The place is nice. That doesn't mean Sylus has to be happy about it. In fact, he's not even close to being done groaning and whining about being doxed for the third time. 

Sylus grumbles: 'My last place was nice.' Kieran nudges him over the threshold of the apartment. 

'Stop whining you big baby. Shit happens.' Sylus turns to him with a death glare. Kieran rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in defeat. 'Sorry man. There really isn't much else to say about it.' 

Sylus knows damn well that he's right, he's just not ready to admit it. That last place was a little bit special to him. It was the first place he moved into on his own after a long relationship. He knew his job would always be an obstacle in any relationship, but he thought she had gotten over it. She clearly hadn't.  

When his popularity skyrocketed, she left him. Told him she couldn't keep sharing him, no matter how many times he told her there was no one to share him with. She was part of the reason he started doing solo stuff. He even offered her to stop doing it. It wasn't even a big deal to him. That didn't matter to her. 

Luke and Kieran tried to get him back to who he was, yet even they couldn't ignore the fact that he became a little different. He distanced himself, became harsher, became colder. He wasn't particularly rude or anything, just a bit off-putting if you don't know him. 

'Anyway, I'm going to let your neighbor know we're moving you in this week,' Kieran states and quickly leaves the apartment. Luke gives Sylus a look. 

'What,' Sylus snaps at him. 

'Shouldn't you join him?' Sylus raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger and a lot more intimidating. 

'I just got doxed. Why would I go around introducing myself to everyone?' 

Luke just shrugs. Sylus antics don't do much to him anymore after knowing him so long. 'Fair enough.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The doorbell buzzes. It's ever so slightly longer than the average person would press a doorbell, and so ever so slightly more annoying. Mayorly more annoying because you were just dozing off cuddled up to Zayne on the couch. It has been a long time since that happened. 

You groan and shift, but Zayne tightens his grip. 'Don't go.' His voice is gravelly, tired, a little strained. For a little while you're considering it, but then the bell buzzes a second time. Longer this time. 

'It's just for a second,' you whisper back. He nods and his grip loosens. You get off his chest and quickly shuffle to the front door. When you open it, you have to take a few seconds to digest the picture in front of you. 'Kieran? Why are you here? Does Tara need something?' 

It seems his head short-circuits just like yours has as he takes a few seconds to answer. 'Eh, no. I didn't know you live here. I'm just... I'm helping a friend move in. I'm doing a round to warn people about the noise.' 

'Oh, good to know. Thank you. Who's your friend?' 

'His name is Sylus but he's a pretty private person, so I can't promise you he'll stop by to introduce himself.' 

'Fair enough,' you respond while you think back to how Zayne used to be. It was a similar situation. Took more than half a year before you two would even greet each other when passing in the hallway. 'Well, give Tara my best. I'll probably see you soon.' 

'I will. See ya.' 

'Who was that,' Zayne asks from the couch. 

'Friend of the new neighbor. He's moving in this week.' You grab your phone from the coffee table to check if Rafayel send anything about a new tenant, instead you see a notification from Red Crow's socials. A new post. 

"No smutty chapter this Friday. I have a busy week.   Maybe if you beg, I'll record myself getting off." 

Previous - Next

[aishangotome]

Luke & Gilbert's Story of Reminiscence [The Day We Became a Fake Family] - Part 1

Luke: Hey, Emma. There's a new shop in town, wanna go with me?

Emma: Sure, but it's rare for you to invite me somewhere.

Luke: It's a shop for women. I'm interested in their limited-edition honey candy, but I'd stand out going alone, wouldn't I?

Emma: Hehe... In that case, I'd be happy to.

Lately, with Prince Gilbert of Obsidian staying at the Rhodolite castle, there's been a constant tension, and it often feels suffocating.

So when he invited me to town, I immediately accepted, but—

Gilbert: Oh, are you two going out?

Just as we were about to reach the exit, where a clear blue sky spread out before us, we bumped into Prince Gilbert.

Luke: Yeah, it's a date, so don't get in the way.

Gilbert: Oh? Sounds interesting. Makes me want to play a game of follow the leader.

Luke: Are you a man of leisure or something?

(I've been thinking this for a while, but Luke is amazing because he doesn't change his attitude at all, even with Prince Gilbert.)

Unlike me, with my body stiffening with nervousness, or the servants who hurried past, Luke is a valuable presence who can face Prince Gilbert and exchange words with him confidently.

Wanting to learn from him, I mentally chided my unconsciously fearful heart.

Gilbert: If you're going to town, I'd like a souvenir, okay?

Luke: What? No way.

Gilbert: I'm a state guest. ...Right, little rabbit?

Emma: What kind of souvenir would you like?

Gilbert: Hmm...

Luke: If you're going to think about it that hard, don't ask.

Gilbert: Rhodolite is a country of gourmet food, so it can't be helped, can it?

Gilbert: Ah, that's right. I'd like a sandwich from the bakery that little rabbit always goes to.

Emma: ...How did you know that I frequent the bakery...?

Gilbert: Want to know?

(No way... he's not saying I have a spy on me, is he...?)

(...That's plausible and scary.)

Luke: Don't bully her.

Gilbert: Bully? That's harsh. I actually like little rabbit, you know?

Luke: That's what bullying is.

Gilbert: Ahaha, that's true. But I'm genuinely interested in the sandwich.

Gilbert: Is that a no?

Emma: ...I'll do my best.

Gilbert: Thank you.

Luke: You really only bring trouble, don't you?

Luke: Emma, let's go.

Perhaps noticing my stiff expression, Luke took my hand and started walking.

His large, dependable hand brought a sense of relief before any embarrassment.

Gilbert: See you later, you two.

Luke: ––...!

At his casual words, Luke, who hadn't reacted to anything until then, slightly trembled his fingers.

(...Is it my imagination?)

Luke didn't say anything, and just pulled my hand to led me into town.

-

---...Ten years ago, in Obsidian.

Gilbert: Luke, how do you feel about starting military school today?

Luke: Huh? I don't really feel... anything.

Gilbert: You can't be feeling "nothing." An exciting youth awaits you!

Luke: There's no such thing at a military training facility.

Gilbert: Aww.

Luke: But hey, thanks. ...For arranging for me to attend.

Gilbert: You're welcome. I hope you can learn what you desire...

Luke: .............

Gilbert: But before that, let's make one promise.

Luke: A promise?

Gilbert: As long as you keep this promise, I'll always be on your side.

Luke: ...Is it that important of a promise?

Gilbert: Yes. Precisely because you'll have more opportunities to go out, it's a promise you must never break.

Luke: What is it?

Gilbert: When I send you off with "see you later," you must always come back and say "I'm home."

Luke: Huh?

Gilbert: If you don't say "I'm home," I'll consider it a betrayal and kill you.

Luke: The price is too high.

Gilbert: That's how important it is. Conversely, if I don't welcome you with "welcome home," you can kill me.

Luke: ...That's stupid.

Gilbert: But I'm serious.

Gilbert: Well then, Luke. See you later.

-

Gilbert: Ah, there you are. Welcome home, Luke.

Luke: You... were you waiting here the whole time for me to come back?

Gilbert: We made a promise, didn't we?

Luke: ...Even though you're not a man of leisure.

Gilbert: Being busy isn't an excuse to break a promise. ...Here.

Luke: What are you doing with your arms? Absolutely not.

Gilbert: Oh, have you already forgotten?

Gilbert: When you break the promise—

Luke: We didn't make a promise to hug.

Gilbert: You're so shy, Luke.

Luke: ...Anyone would hate that.

Gilbert: So, come on?

Luke: ...Something about...

Luke: It's hard to say when you're being rushed.

Gilbert: Are you sure? It's a choice between life and death.

Luke: Why do I have to risk my life for something so stupid?

Gilbert: It's not stupid. It's just that there was someone who didn't keep this promise once.

Gilbert: It was very unpleasant. So unpleasant that I almost killed everyone in the castle.

Luke: ..............

Gilbert: You won't betray me, will you, Luke...?

Luke: Alright, alright. I understand there are circumstances.

Luke: Fine, I'll say it.

Luke: .............

Gilbert: To think you'd be so shy about something like this, how youthful.

Luke: Shut up—it's a phrase I rarely say!

Luke: ……………… I'm home.

*back to present day*

Emma: Mmm, that was fun! I was worried when Prince Gilbert found us, but...

Emma: Luke, you're a genius at entertaining people.

Luke: Really?

Eating delicious food with Luke in town, going around shops, buying souvenirs, the casual time we spent together after so long had lifted the suffocating feeling from my chest.

(Luke is so considerate, he really spoiled me.)

Luke: Well, I'm glad you haven't forgotten how to smile.

Emma: Huh?

Luke: Lately, you've been pretty stressed because of him, right?

Luke: Let's ditch him again and go on a date.

(...He did it for me. Luke is really kind.)

Emma: Thank you. I'm looking forward to it.

???: But it's not good to come home so late.

(Oh...)

Luke: Ugh, were you waiting for us?

With the distinct sound of his cane, Prince Gilbert emerged from the darkness.

Gilbert: I have to receive my souvenir, don't I?

Gilbert: Besides, promises must be kept.

(Promises?)

Gilbert: Welcome home.

Luke: ...............

Luke, with a bitter look on his face, suddenly turned away from Prince Gilbert.

Gilbert: Huh? That's strange. Did you not hear me?

Luke: ...Are you still doing that?

Gilbert: Ahaha, complaining to a state guest?

Gilbert: Little rabbit, what do you say when someone says "welcome home"?

Emma: I... I'm home... I've returned?

Gilbert: Yes, you're a good girl.

(Is that something to be so happy about...?)

Gilbert: Little rabbit can do it, but Luke can't? You wouldn't say that, would you?

(Luke... he looks embarrassed when you look closely.)

(Maybe he's not used to saying it.)

Luke: ––...Home.

Gilbert: Oh dear, the Rhodolite castle might be stained with blood.

Luke: ...I said "I'm home," okay!

Luke: Emma, let's just ignore him. He's annoying.

Emma: That's a bit—wait, Luke, I haven't given Prince Gilbert his souvenir yet...!

Before I could hand over the sandwich, Luke, just like in the morning, pulled my hand and started walking.

I turned around anxiously towards Prince Gilbert, and contrary to my expectations, he was waving with a cheerful smile.

Gilbert: Hehe, well done.

.

.

.

Part 2

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

[burningembers91]

Help Wanted - Seong Gi-Hun x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Back Alley Bar

Synopsis: When Seong Gi-Hun sees you struggling, he decides to step in

A/N: this storyline is becoming more angsty than I originally thought it would! A lot of my MC’s are happy go lucky people though, so it’s fun creating someone’s who’s just as flawed as the other characters.

You were late, so incredibly late. Between your full time day job, shifts at the bar, and your online university classes, you were burning the candle at both ends. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had more than 4 hours of sleep, and it was starting to catch up to you. Your shirt was inside out, a problem you’d only realised as you left the subway. You’d have to quickly change it in the bathroom before class, and hope your students and fellow teachers didn’t notice your absence.

You glanced down at your watch: only 6 minutes to make a 10 minute journey. You’d have to run to the school, which meant you’d turn up to work both sweaty and dressed incorrectly. Groaning internally, you picked up the pace, setting out into a steady jog. You hated running, it made you feel like your lungs were about to burst out of your chest. You were so busy mentally timing your journey that you didn’t notice the figure in front of you. Not until you collided full force with them, knocking you and the contents of your bag onto the pavement.

“Oh, fuck!” You hissed, your hands going straight to your throbbing nose. You looked up, ready to curse whoever it was that hadn’t moved out of your way, only to see Seong Gi-Hun standing over you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, bending forward to help you up. You nodded, checking there was no blood before scrambling to pick up your papers that were blowing lazily down the road.

Gi-Hun had always thought you’d been beautiful, but even he had to admit that you looked exhausted beyond measure. There was deep bags under your eyes, toothpaste in the corner of your mouth, and was your shirt inside out?

“Your shirt-“ he began, before you cut him off, your tone harsh.

“Yes,” you snapped, “my shirt is inside out.”You took the remaining papers from his hands, sighing as you rubbed your tired eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m just really tired and really, really late for work.”

Gi-Hun held his hands up, stepping aside to let you rush past him. “I hope you have a good day!” He called after you, smiling as he watched your incorrectly worn shirt billow in the warm spring breeze.

He hadn’t been to the bar for a few weeks. Your words had really gotten to him, had made him stop and think. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life wallowing in his own pity? Drinking himself to death wouldn’t change what he’d done, nothing would take back the mistakes he’d made, nothing would bring back the people he’d lost. But if he didn’t do something soon, he’d waste away into nothingness. The morning after the conversation in your car, Gi-Hun threw away the bottle of whiskey he usually kept by his bed. He went out and looked for places advertising employment, willing to take on whatever work he could get. He missed seeing you though, missed listening to you talk when you thought he wasn’t listening. He’d never seen you in the daylight before, and you looked even more beautiful than you did in the dimly lit bar. But you looked so tired, so stressed. You’d done so much for Gi-Hun over the last few months; now it was time for him to return the favour.

That night, Gi-Hun returned to the bar. He didn’t drink, though he desperately wanted to. He just sat with you, keeping you company as you had done for him so many times. You looked exhausted, your eyes red rimmed and puffy. You didn’t talk much that night, too tired to form words. But Gi-Hun didn’t mind; he knew better than anyone that sometimes all you needed was a persons presence to stop you from going completely insane.

“Let me drive you home,” he said to you at the end of your shift.

“I’m fine, honestly,” you mumbled, fumbling with the keys as you locked the bar down for the night.

“Please,” he insisted. “It’s not safe for you to drive.”

You looked at him, closing your eyes as they burned with tiredness, before sighing.

“Fine.” Tossing him the keys, you slumped into the passenger side, secretly grateful for the help. If you’d had to drive home, you weren’t sure you’d have made it back in one piece.

You were both silent as the car wound through the city streets, lost in your own thoughts. Gi-Hun helped you upstairs with your bags, ladened down with student essays you needed to mark, and your own uni work that you hadn’t had time to complete. He wasn’t sure if he should stay for a while, to make sure you got in ok.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, desperate to prolong his time with you, even for a brief moment. Your stomach growled loudly in response, and you clutched at it.

“I guess I forgot to,” you mumbled, throwing yourself down on the couch which was littered with yet more paperwork.

“You need to eat,” he said, “let me make you something.” He dug around in the cupboards, finding a couple of packs of instant ramen to make while you got changed out of your work clothes. You returned a few moments later, makeup free and wearing a tiny pair of pyjama shorts. They accentuated the curves of your thighs and hips so perfectly, and Gi-Hun found himself unable to tear his eyes away. You looked so beautiful, but so fragile and broken.

Handing you the bowl of food, he turned to go. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, didn’t want to encroach on you when you clearly needed rest.

“Please don’t go.” Your voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear you. You looked so small sitting on your sofa, the bowl of steaming ramen in your hands. “Please, can you just stay a while?”

You were so lonely at the minute, so utterly drained and exhausted. You just needed some company, needed someone to sit with you. And so Gi-Hun stayed. He sat with you while you ate, neither of you talking, but both of you having so much you wanted to say.

“Why do you do all this?” He asked eventually, looking at the mountains of paperwork all over your tiny living room.

“I made some bad choices when I was younger,” you sighed. “I met someone when I was really young. I thought he was a nice guy; he wasn’t. I took a job as a teacher because it was easy and brought money in. But as soon as I put money in the account, he would spend it.”

Your ex sounded like Gi-Hun, and it filled him with shame.

“Did he gamble?” He asked, wondering just alike the two of them were.

You shook your head. “Drugs and prostitutes, mostly,” you laughed bitterly. “It took me years to get the courage up to leave. And when I finally did I realised I’d wasted my life being with a man I hated, in a job I can’t stand. I thought by going back to university I could make myself better somehow. But I’m just really tired and I have nothing to show for it.”

A single, fat tear dropped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. You talked long into the night, fighting sleep so you could spend more time with the man who had shown you such kindness. When your eyes could no longer stay open, you crashed hard on the sofa, your head slumped on Gi-Hun’s shoulder.

He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare wake you from the sleep you desperately needed. So he stayed there all night, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. His hand tentatively stroked your back, soothing the troubled mumbles you uttered every now and again.

You’d been there for him when he needed someone, and now he’d be there for you. Life was tough for both of you, but you could help each other. Maybe together you could come out the other side. Maybe together you’d be ok.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 3 - Mike's incriminating dilemma

I think one of the most obvious byler proofs to me that barely gets any notice or recognition that it is very convincing, is the fact that Mike seems totally unwilling to talk to Will about his problems with El. Whenever Will is spoken to about the issues they have, it's very noticeable to the audience that Mike talks about it in very general terms, making sure he doesn't end up spilling what they spoke about.

This is simply because it is incriminating.

It's also the reason why he doesn't tell Will he called him multiple times even though he easily could! It would solve a lot between the two of them if he had admitted he called him (which we got confirmation about from Dustin). However, he would rather not, and would rather sacrifice himself in a sense than have Will know how much he called, turning the focus away from himself.

So again, why wouldn't Mike just tell Will about what happened? He knows that it might help him, since he's definitely told a friend about his relationship problems before (Lucas). However, this time he's hiding something bigger -- he does not love El. He would much rather have Will stay in the dark about what he really 'needs to say' than have Will ask him more questions. He's worried that if he gives too much detail, he'll be outed as a liar, he'll be figured out by Will. There is no other reason for hiding what El wants him to say. He could tell Will, but he's simply worried about the questioning this would earn.

The fact that he's lying is one of the reasons he makes this face here:

This is when Will says 'Whatever you didn't say, you can say it to her then', referring to when Mike sees her again. He believes he's comforting Mike that she's safe and he will see her again.

At first, Mike grins at Will, simple because... he's happy that Will's comforting him. But then he starts to dig deeper into what he's just heard and what it then means. That's when he almost startles, blinks rapidly and looks nervous. The internal conflict is clear on his face, and the directors want you to take notice of it.

It's almost like he's disliking the fact he has to lie to Will here. He doesn't like that Will has no idea how deep this thing actually goes, and it's really not as simple as saying I love you when he sees El again.

All in all:

Will has no idea that he's encouraging Mike to say I love you to El.

He believes he's comforting Mike on the fact that El is safe and that Mike will see her again.

But Mike's worried about saying I love you. Meaning he's worried about seeing her again.

He does not want to say I love you.

Okay.... so this means that he does not want to say I love you. Even if it means that he can see El safe again. But this can be for many different reasons. Maybe he's not ready to make the commitment or something. But the next scene on the car is when Mike shows the real reason why he doesn't want to say it.

The next time Mike and Will talk about this, the thing that he has to say to her has been reframed to being 'The Truth.' He's realised, between the previous scene and the car scene, that he will eventually have to explain himself to El because he'll likely see her again. He thinks that if he had explained himself, maybe he would have taken him with her.

Now, 'explaining yourself' does not at all sound like a confession of love. It almost sounds like Mike trying to justify to El why he doesn't say it. AND:

He tells Will in this scene that he 'didn't know what to say' despite El spelling it out for him very clearly. This shows he knows that he can't say what she wants him to say, and he has no idea how to explain why he can't say it in a way that isn't incriminating. Again, he can't tell Will the thing he has to explain away, because it would raise too many questions.

Will says 'to say how you really feel', suggesting that Mike feels the opposite of what El wants. And the fact that Mike nods. He NODS when Will says 'what if they don't like the truth?' is just so clear to me. It AGAIN solidifies that Mike is nervous because he really doesn't want to tell El the truth. He has no idea what to say to make it better without lying.

TLDR; Mike does not want to say I love you to El. The reason? He doesn't love her.

[thanosscross]

Better as team - Pre Squid game!Choi Su-Bong/Thanos x reader

Summary: In Thanos fashion of being different, he managed to pull one of the biggest rappers in America and UK, despite his very odd and unhinged behavior, upcoming singer/rapper Y/n has no issue sharing the spotlight with her boyfriend

Warnings: None really other than Thanos's drug use, just some funny sweet pre games! Thanos! <3

A/n: So I had to take a different approach because Thanos doesn't really have any songs by the character, so I took a route with some of T.O.P's music, making Nam-Gyu this universe's G-dragon for some songs, so let me know what you think <3

Long distance was hard, especially whenever your fiancée lived in Korea currently, even if you moved everything of yours in his house, you were still forced to be in America or part of the United kingdom most of the time touring, recording, or filming. You never knew how to fix it until Su-Bong decided to step into the rap game himself, you were happy to support him, even collaborating with him on a lot of your songs, even if it was just back-up vocals.

Your fans were quick to fall in love with Thanos in the same way you did, but they didn't see the sweet vulnerable of him, only a few thousand of your friends saw the true Thanos, and that was at his first show with you.

As the giant props slid open revealing you and Thanos you were immediately shocked by how loud the screaming truly was, You jumped off the platform, starting to sing along with the track that played in your ear piece, as you heard Thanos rap his verse, you noticed he was still on the platform, holding onto the railing tightly. The entire show Thanos was glued to you on stage, either holding your hand, or just being near you. The more you preformed though, the more Su-bong found his groove on stage, allowing you both to have a lot more freedom and fun on stage as you sung with him.

You had just released your first single for the year, it wasn't your best work, but your fans seemed to like it a lot, including your fiancée. So as you preformed it on stage, following your choreography that you practiced hours beforehand, You shoved your finger to Thanos's chest as you rapped your verse, once you ended it and the instrumental played for a moment you walked away, pointing towards the camera blowing it a kiss before Thanos quickly picking you up running down to the end of the stage smiling "No! Thanos!" You shouted holding onto him "Take care of my girl!" He shouted before gently handing you over to crowd surf, you squealed, nervous about falling and being swarmed, Thanos watched closely as he starting rapping his verse, following you along on the stage "Alright give me her back! You're gonna hurt her!" Thanos jokingly shouted reaching out into the crowd, you thanked everybody as they helped you over the barrier, back on stage.

Once Thanos started making his own singles, it made everything a new type of fun. He had multiple, Doom Dada, Turn it up, Knock out, and Zutter, some that you'd occasionally have verses in, others were solely Thanos, others he had his friend sing with him, and you couldn't be more proud of him. As you stood on the platform you smiled at your fiancée watching him rap, with his friend, hearing the familiar lyrics to Zutter you swayed your hips to Su-Bong's, as much as he annoyed you, he was always hot on stage, his bad boy act he did was always adorable. As he continued moving his hand along with his words he made his way to you, bringing you over with him to the center of the stage, basically using you as his back up dancer, you laughed at him glancing at his friend who just laughing sticking his tongue out to motion he had taken his stupid cross necklace with him to the concert. As you held his hand you mimicked the dancer who was a few feet in front of you with Nam-Gyu, bending at the waist and swaying your hips, Thanos just smirked, it making him even cockier if ever possible. As you spun around to get in line with the others to blend out of the dance, Thanos just pulled you close to him as he squatted down to rap to some of the girls up front against the barricades. You wanted to strangle him, but instead just continued until the song ended, Nam-Gyu going backstage while his next single came on, you walked around, purposely trying to match the moves your chorographers showed you to 'compliment' each other during verses and songs.

As you finished your show, you felt as if you were going to pass out, saving your most upbeat songs for the very end was a mistake, You laid on the stage floor, the curtain had been closed for awhile, the fans all funneled out not long ago, but the floor was so cool against your face "Sunflower, What're you doing on the floor?" Thanos asked approaching you with your coat "I'm so hot, and so tired" You groaned, not wanting to move yet, Thanos just sighed pulling you to your feet raising his eyebrows as your head fell back in exhaustion "I wanna go home" You groaned smacking his side playfully, he just laughed wrapping your coat around your shoulders along with his arm, leading you out to the tour bus "Come on, we can sleep in here, until we get to the hotel" He offered shutting and locking the door after you walked in, you nodded, crawling into the bed placed in the back of the tour bus, Su-bong not far behind.

Your California shows were even more exhilarating, because of your and your boyfriend's hometowns, your guy's music reached to all different areas of the world, making you both known internationally. As you stood on the stage you stood in shock at how huge the arena was "I think this might be our biggest show, Baby" You stated noticing your purple haired boyfriend making his way to the stage floor "Holy shit!" He shouted, spinning around, his little rapper heart exploding at just the size of the place, not to mention that you were sold out, so they were all there for you and him. You smiled walking over to him giggling "We still have mic check" You reminded, he just turned pulling you closer to his body "This is fucking amazing" He whispered pressing his lips to yours, you happily kissed back, never noticing your other band mate walking out "Holy shit, guys!" Nam-Gyu shouted before noticing the both of you "Guys! We have mic check! Not mouth check!" He groaned, going to grab all the microphones from the stage manager.

The show is crazy for you at least, everybody was screaming and singing along, the vibes between the three of you on stage was perfect, everything was going right and you could tell it made the three of you even more pumped. As you jumped around singing along with Thanos to your shared song 'high high', you weren't very open about your sex life, but you had a character to play on stage, using your bisexuality show mainly in your songs. As you got to the chorus you had to hold back a laugh watching Nam-Gyu jump onto Thanos's back as he sang with his friend, Smirking making your way to the edge of the stage, offering your hands to your fans as the boys continued singing. As the show continued you stopped for a moment to breathe "You guys wanna hear my favorite song?" You asked teasingly into your microphone, the crowd screamed loudly in response, Your fiancée's eyes snapping over to yours "Only if Y/n does the chorography right" He replied, his voice deep as he looked up to you through his lashes, you rolled your eyes going to your marker as Knock out started to blare through the speakers. You moved with both boys as they sung, you microphone sitting with your stage manager so you wouldn't risk dropping it. You giggled a bit as you shifted to the left and right quickly with the beat of the music, watching Nam-Gyu make his way to the end of the stage with his verse, as Thanos started up he kept eye contact with you, going along with the track in his ear. You weren't sure what to do for a moment, seeing him going off the dance you rehearsed was confusing, but you quickly got back into it as Nam-gyu made his way back over, following his rehearsed part at least. You kept eye contact as you swayed your hips to your fiancée's verse, Nam-Gyu holding your hand in the air as his hand ghosted over your hips, that was one thing you loved about your fellow bandmate, no matter how much he tried to get with you whenever you first met, he was always respectful of you and your relationship while preforming.

You moved away as the boys moved closer together to sing the end chorus together, as the music cut out, it was replaced by screams, you spun around excitedly before walking between the two smiling before looking at Thanos "You like, baby?" He asked into his mic before the lights cut out and the platform on the stage started to close so you were hidden by the props again. "That was amazing!!" You squealed loudly, Thanos just shook his head laughing before bringing his microphone up "You're still on" He whispered, you gasped, your cheeks heating up in a bright red blush, flipping the switches off and handing it to your manager you hugged both boys tightly "I swear that was our best show yet!" Nam-Gyu shouted excitedly, you nodded in agreement as Thanos kept his arms around you "How about, we go..out and party? As celebration?" He offered, you glanced at Nam-Gyu before you both agreed, making your way to the dressing rooms to change.

After your last show in California, you felt like the three of you just bounced off of each other perfectly, your management even making a statement by getting you a shared house to stay in during breaks from tour. Rushing down the stairs to said home you huffed "Boys! We have promo pictures in an hour! Why aren't you ready!?" You shouted in shock, both boys turned their heads to look at you "We are ready, you're just...overdressed" Thanos offered staring at your baggy jeans and tight as hell tanktop, one of his oversized button ups as a cover-up, one sleeve sitting at your elbow, the other sitting on your shoulder "No, I am dressed for our promo and album cover photoshoot!" You whined, they were starting to piss you off, they had known about this for weeks leading up to it, so why weren't they taking it seriously.

After a very long stare down between your bandmates, they rushed upstairs to change before meeting you outside in the car, apologizing to your driver for the wait, you were on your way to the shoot. You wished you could say it got easier after that, but it didn't, the boys pulling off their own poses they wanted, rather than what the photographer and PR team wanted. As you approached the scene, you manager gave you a pleading look, without the need of saying anything you already understood, they were high and not listening to instructions. "Boys! Let's wrap this up!" You demanded before walking to them, standing on your marker, listening carefully as the photographer told you how to stand with both men. As you stood proudly between them, you sighed as they were still talking behind you about what stunt they should try next at the next show, you turned around, the photographer expecting you to shout, but instead you just gently took both men's hands placing them on your shoulders "Now, shut up please, and look pretty" You stated looking at the camera lenses, your manager just laughed shaking her head "That's y/n, both boys listen to her like a scripture" She whispered to the team behind the cameras, you didn't have much issues after that, the tension quickly fading whenever you got on set with the boys.

While you weren't sure how any of this would end in the future, you were all three sure of one thing, you all worked better as a team, the boys giving you the confidence you need to preform live, and you keeping the boys in line and sane whenever it came to literally anything.

--

You like?

--

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@private-vampire

@ag022123

@corrdelia