#can't believe i was looking for a song after i already made the piece and stumbled across this one

[girlfromflor]

56 DAYS (sjy) | PART TWO (FINAL)

pairing: enemie!jake x fem!reader | read the prequel and part one

summary: after your best friend jay made you share an apartment with jake – “the guy you don’t like” –, you have to decide whether you should or not give into the feelings he makes you experience, something possibly pleasant and definitely memorable.

genres: "enemies" (reader is in denial) to lovers, accidental roommates, summer love, also has a bit of angst, smut

warnings: read the first parts otherwise the story won't make much sense, swearing, cliché guys i’m sorry, this is very domestic, they act like an old married couple, jake is in love y’all, lots of tension, some crying, reader likes to be alone, they tease the fuck out of each other (not sexually), they thirst over each other a lot (very, very sexually), they bond over music and food, mentions of two piece bikini, its implied that jake is taller than reader, they overthink a bit, but mostly just lots of fluff, and smut (so MDNI) that includes: sex dream mentions, dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!jake, unprotected sex (y’all know better, this is fiction), praising, biting, slapping, pain kink?, slight degradation, begging, marking, spitting, brief fingering, hair pulling and choking

wc: 15.273 | playlist: 56 days.

a/n: can't believe this is finally out, it took me so long omfg. each part is named after a song in the playlist. anyways, hope you guys like it<3 | taglist: @manuosorioh @tunafishyfishylike

DAY 1 - Do You Like Me?

56 days. it was too much. that was no way you could both get out of this whole thing alive, everyone knew that. you will end up killing jake and then yourself. jay always said that it was going to be fine, because he knew you enough to be aware that the strongest thing between you just wasn’t mutual dislike. when he bid you two goodbye earlier this morning he just asked – really affectionately – for you to be nice to each other, with a knowing look and a teasing smile. you reminisced the moment already missing him and jake, as he drove you two back to your apartment, thought the same.

the ride back home was very quiet, jake didn’t say a word about how you both were going to be very alone together for the next few weeks and you didn’t either. you thought it was best to keep at least some of the good mood of jay’s constant yapper as much as you could, since soon enough all you two would have is each other's company – and that’s a big no-no for you. jake thought – in all his honesty – that no time alone with you was enough. he just couldn’t wait to have you all to himself and, as soon as you step inside the comforting surroundings of your home, jake doesn’t shut up. he spends all day talking your ear off about every single thing there is to talk about, anything he could use as an excuse to chat with you – he even went so far as to chase you around the house so you’d keep listening to his yapping.

it’s day one without jay and you’re already arguing. over what? you didn’t even know anymore. it kind of started because he didn't leave you alone since eight in the morning when you two got home, then he didn’t clean the mess he made in the kitchen while cooking and then he accused you of taking forever to shower – which shouldn’t really matter because he has his own fucking bathroom –, and now you’re just competing over who’s choosing the movie you're gonna watch.

“i got here first, i’ll choose it.” he says, shoving you on the other end of the couch, his big hand locking you in place by your shoulder. he’s trying really hard not to laugh to keep a serious facade, but it’s almost impossible with the way you're so shamelessly throwing a tantrum right now – he wouldn’t imagine you’d actually want to watch a movie with him.

“but you’ll choose something i won't like, on purpose,” you reply, pouting. giving up on trying to sit up and just comically laying there, your arms falling from the cushion – and jake thought you never looked cuter. you didn’t even want to fight, but it seemed like getting on your nerves was his goal for the evening.

“now, that’s simply not true. don’t you like horror movies?” he asks as he skips all netflix suggestions to search for a specific movie he heard you talk one too many times with jay, finally letting go of your arm, alternating his glance between you and the tv as he watched you switch positions and rest your back on the couch’s backrest.

“i do, but–” you pause, there was no way he knew that from you, so how did he know you're fond of horror movies anyways? you ignored your traitor thoughts – the ones that told you he paid true attention to you –, choosing to keep talking, “yes, but i still feel kinda scared sometimes.”

he cooed, like you were a cute child. “well, nothing to worry about then,” he says, and leans a bit closer, arm resting on the couch's backrest right behind you. as he winks at you, flirty ways never quite leaving him, he completes “i’m right by your side.”

you huff, sinking further into the couch, knowing him, there's no way you’d win this fight anyway. but your attitude did nothing to distract him from your flustered face and shy demeanor. “whatever, jake. just choose it already,” you mutter, arms crossed and knees to your chest making it all very entertaining for jake to watch.

the movie he chose was coincidentally your favorite horror movie. you loved it because, even though you knew it all by heart, you couldn’t help but flinch at most jumpscares. it was just so good you always got in a trance while watching it. still, it seemed like it wasn't going to happen tonight. you’d catch jake looking at you side eyed and it both intrigued and angered you. you always asked “what?” genuinely curious to know why he couldn’t just focus on the damn movie, but he brushed you off everytime, making it seem like you were just overthinking.

being completely unaware that jake have paid the movie little to no attention, you keep your eyes on the screen. jake uses this moment to appreciate your presence a little. making an effort to not look at you and distract you from your favorite horror show yet again, he becomes more aware of your presence. he then realizes you didn’t move away from him when he put his arm to rest behind you. you were just sitting there, so naturally – like it happens all the time. does this mean you’re comfortable? it has to be it, right? the thought itself catches him off guard, and he doesn’t want to move even for an inch, if that means you won’t move either. by the time the movie ends his body is a bit sore from trying so hard to stay in the same position – he thought it was kind of ridiculous, but that’s just how love is. 

not wanting it all to end just yet he asks you, “do you want to watch another one? we can make popcorn this time…” his eyes pleading, almost like it would physically sting him if you said no.

you look at him with a puzzled look, but nod in agreement regardless. it’s summer break, you don’t have class tomorrow and nothing else to worry about – also, the night sky outside is just begging for another round of spine-chilling story. making your way to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you two, you say “i’ll make popcorn, do you want to choose the next movie too?” giving him the opportunity to do it felt slightly out of character for you, but you can’t deny that his first one was a good choice – not that you’d let him know that, of course.

“no, you can choose now, pretty girl,” he winks at you as he answers, “but thanks, that’s sweet of you.” 

you roll your eyes, thinking you shouldn’t have said anything. “shut up, jake,” is your reply and you feel a bit disappointed by the fact that you couldn’t think of something else – mind unfocusing, wrapped around the way he had just called you a pretty girl. you try to shake it off and once the popcorn is ready you come back to the living room, settling down on the couch’s end by jake’s left side and pressing play in a thriller you’ve been dying to watch. 

he silently hates that you’re not by his side anymore, but he focuses on the movie. mid-way through it jake’s already on edge, his whole body tense as the movie goes on. he hates the suspense more, he thinks. nevertheless, as soon as he looks at you he almost completely forgets about it, mesmerized by how pretty you look right now – just like always. your hair is not covering your face, so he can see all of it – marvel at all of it. but what really catches his attention is the single piece of popcorn you are holding against your lips – that are slightly parted to accommodate it –, probably too lost in the movie’s story to notice you’re still holding it. your eyes are wide and almost puppy-like while looking at the screen and he wonders just how much inner strength he’s using right now to keep himself from kissing you. because, god, you look so kissable and you’re not even doing anything. it’s insufferable. he shakes his head and gets back to watching the movie, trying to get rid of the tension in his body – one that was not really from the thriller’s suspense anymore.

you sense him shifting on the other end of the couch and decide to look over, only to be greeted by a frown and a clenched jaw. he’s not looking at you – must be entranced by the film’s plot and is caught up in stress from wanting it to come to an end, you think –, but he’s looking way too good for your liking. the slight frown in his brows makes you want to soothe it somehow. maybe with a kiss, while you hold his clenched jaw until it’s not there anymore. your eyes snap back to the screen, what are you thinking? 

the rest of the movie is pure torture, for both of you. the tension that fills both your bodies starts to overflow, spilling all over the living room. it’s nearly tangible, really. it forms a dense atmosphere between you, that has nothing to do with the movie and when it is finally over none of you make comments on it – since you both lost the most important parts while exchanging sneaky looks – just whispering goodnight to each other swiftly, before going to bed. once you’re both in your designated rooms, you take a deep breath – may this be the last time you feel so goddamn tempted by him.

DAY 5 - Rock Your Body

as much as you felt like it would never happen again, it did. it’s been 4 days since your movie night and today was supposed to be the day you’d peacefully deep clean your apartment, according to your schedule. but neither you nor jake wanted to face each other, opting to not live the awkward tension all over again. you did it because you didn’t want to even entertain the idea of getting that close to jake ever, he did it because it was all too much for his poor in love heart to handle.

today was hot, to say the least. the blue sky had no clouds to shield you from the sun’s unforgivable brightness and even though you and jake are in the comfort of your home, the white walls of your apartment do nothing to suppress the impending heat that clings into your bodies. you thanked summer for its magical vibes, sure, but not really when you’re trapped at home doing house chores all morning. cleaning your apartment is usually fun since you used the time to just distract your mind from your current problems and just tidy everything up. but it’d be impossible to do it normally, since your major problem of the moment had a first name, last name and lived in the same place as you.

though it would be an annoying task, jake decided to use the day to try and bring his antics to a stop – just for one day – and, as a way to wave a white flag for you, he started by cleaning his own room, and you took the opportunity to clean yours. but as you finished and went for the next spot you both realized that you’d end up together at some point. ignoring that thought, you just kept doing your designated house chores and everything else you needed to, until you both found yourselves in the kitchen. you had already cleaned everything else, the only things missing were the dishes from breakfast and cleaning the counter – both which were completely simple. you took the dishes, while jake was supposed to clean the counter. but he couldn’t concentrate if his life depended on it.

jake freaked out the minute he saw you walk in. why would you choose to wear such revealing clothes today, he couldn’t take his eyes from you – which he tried, because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. the way your shorts hugged your thighs was a sin itself, but your basically see-through white shirt was what made him fold, the fact that even then his imagination couldn’t possibly feel accurate in the slightest made him weak, he wanted more than just the hint of what’s underneath the fabric. he felt like he needed to do something to leave the losing side – he was feeling like he was falling deeper in a world he wouldn’t survive by himself. so he uses the roasting summer day as an excuse to take his shirt off, wondering why he didn’t do it sooner. the relief was immediate, of course, the sweat that enveloped his skin didn’t have nowhere to stick anymore, and it was a pleasant sensation. but he loved the moment especially because, as soon as he took off his shirt, he heard a cup slide from your hands and hit the sink, softly like you tried really hard to keep it from falling. the smile that adorned his lips was involuntary, but filled with a sense of confidence that extended itself to every other move he made.

you feel all the words that you could possibly say turn into mush at the sight. your mind would be completely empty, if it wasn’t already filled to the brim with thoughts of jake – shirtless, sweaty and fucking hot. he was always handsome, you knew that much, and with his constant work out routine you would imagine that his body was somewhat nicely built, but you fooled yourself into thinking that he’d be average looking. you couldn’t help but stare, completely forgetting your task at hand. why did he take his shirt off? 

you didn’t want him to notice you ogling him so you decided to say something, anything. “ew, jake. put your shirt back on,” was all you could think of, but you didn’t really want him to. the urge to rub your thighs together was getting harder to ignore, so you decided to get back to doing the dishes. jake, on the other hand, was completely amused by your lack of effort in trying to be discreet with your staring, catching you side-eyeing him every five seconds – or maybe, he thought, maybe you just couldn’t help it. the idea of having this kind of effect on you makes him feel like he was responsible for the summer day, the heat spreading on his body and gathering in his abdomen, the sensation just as if he had several butterflies moving in his stomach.

“oh yeah, ‘cause you really want me to cover up, right?” he laughs and turns on his back to resume his own task, but still talking, “pretend all you want, i know that you’d love me walking around shirtless all day.”

“oh my god, you just never know when to shut up, do you?” you say, annoyed that he was pointing it out so matter-of-factly. to remain at least a bit of your composure you decide to put your earphones on and ignore his existence. though, nothing could take you away from the fact that he was you getting all hot and bothered and he was only standing there and looking good – much more than he should, for his own fucking good.

but jake’s unable to let you grasp the peace of mind you crave so much, and decides to throw through the window all thoughts he had earlier about ‘bringing his antics to a stop’, “what are you listening to?” he asks, actually curious. to know what’s your taste in music is to know you better, and he is all for it

“justin timberlake…” you saying, trying to keep your distance. you were already half-way done with your task, doing it as quickly as you could to go to your room. you’re in much need of a shower to cool the fuck down.

“are you serious?” he chuckles, what kind of person listens to JT to clean the house? he doesn’t ask that though, instead he asks, “which song?” pointing to your earphones. “take them off, so i can judge you properly.”

“what makes you think i’m gonna let you talk shit about my music choices?” but you were already taking it off your ears and disconnecting it from your phone – nonchalantly like you weren’t just contracting him –, replaying the song so he could listen to it from the start. your body moving automatically, the desire to please him taking over.

“really? ‘rock your body’?” he shakes his head, but even you could see that he was joking. he loved the song, he had danced to it many times with a drunk jay in their parties. but, instead of dropping the act, he uses it to tease you more, “i would understand if it were ‘mirrors’ or something, but ‘rock your body’ is just a biased choice, really.”

you can’t hold your laughter to save your life. “what the fuck? what does that even mean?” and when you turn to him, you lose it. he had a serious expression on his face and his lips were pressed in a thin line, like it was the most serious topic on the earth. you really don’t know if it is the sum of everything or if he’s just really funny, but your laughter increases. you bend over the sink slightly, trying to find the balance you lost from your cackles. jake tries his best to keep a straight face but then he sees you and gives in, laughing too – it was impossible not to, you looked so chill at the moment he didn’t want to miss it. and it stays like that for what feels like many minutes, you two laughing and trying your hardest to catch your breath – but failing miserably.

once you calm down, a small smile on both your faces and your chest heaving from the lack of oxygen, you resume your tasks. almost forgetting that you were thirsting over each other just moments ago, the silence that falls between you two is comfortable. but jake didn’t want to keep it that way, so he sighs comically and says, “didn’t know it was that easy to have you laughing like that.”

“it’s not easy, you’re just a complete idiot and i can’t help but find it amusing,” you say, chuckling softly.

as he finishes cleaning the counter, which really shouldn't have taken this long, he smirks at you sentence. “oh, so i amuse you, huh?” his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. 

you had just finished the dishes as well and were drying your hands in the dishtowel, but the moment you heard his words you threw it at jake’s direction with no second thought. he catches it effortlessly and starts to walk in your direction. “you should really learn when to be quiet…” you say, and you meant it to be harsh, but your voice is wavering. his tall and broad frame was closer than you were used to and the fact that he was still shirtless wasn’t helping your situation at all. suddenly, you were hyperconscious of the extremely hot day and how it made you body warm – and possibly his too, and you wanted very much to know just how much –, the way lips parted as he looked at you, the way he towered over you and the way his eyes seemed darker now, up close – the way his chest stuttered when he finally trapped you in your position, leaning in the sink counter.

“you always say that, but i never see you make any effort to shut me up,” he says, but his voice is low, like he’s sharing a secret – a dark and seductive one. “isn’t that what you want, princess? to shut me up?”

your heart is racing, but your mind is rather calm. even though you want to deny it, you know what he was hinting at, and you want it. you crave it. “yes…” you say, voice just like a whisper, a plea.

“yeah?” he says, and closes the distance between you, clearly affected by your small, but important, confession. his warm body – warmer than yours, you notice – presses into yours ever so slightly, like he didn’t want to startle you – like you were in a dream and neither of you wanted to wake up. his right hand moved to cup your cheek, holding your face with all the worship he has ever known in life, eyes filled – overflowing – with yearning. “you can do it, baby. ”

but he wasn’t proposing, it wasn’t a suggestion. he was encouraging you to do it – egging you to go ahead and fucking kiss him, challenging you to give in. your pout comes involuntarily, the movement small but attracting his eyes to your lips – your pretty and really fucking temptable lips. knowing you can’t refuse it – knowing you don’t want to –, you tilt your head up. his reply comes immediately, coming down to brush your lips together eagerly. your voice can barely be called a whisper when you speak, “shit, jake… you know i want to.”

the way his name leaves your lips so beautifully – so appealing – makes his knees buckle. he suppresses a moan, mind going overdrive at the fact you just so openly confessed your wish – because he knew what it meant, how much it meant. then his left hand pulls you closer by your waist, as he does it he swears you can listen to the way his heart beats desperately in his chest. and you are so engrossed in the moment, so wrapped up in the suffocating tension between you that when your phone buzzes and starts ringing on the counter next to you, you both jolt. the sound sharp, cutting through whatever you two were just sharing and it takes you a moment to come to your senses.

picking your phone up, you hardly have the strength to talk, but you voice it regardless, “it’s jay…” and jake only nods, saving all words of disappointment for when he gets his turn to talk to jay, privately. you pick the video call up and wait for jay to greet you, not bothering to go to your room. jake barely moves an inch, he wants to know if you’ll try to push him away once jay sees you two. oddly enough, you don’t do it.

“hey! how’re you doing? is that jake next to you? great, i wanted to talk with you both! have you had lunch yet?” jay’s voice sounds like a rap song. he was so excited to talk to you after four whole days of not listening to your voice.

and as the conversation goes on and both you and jake catch up with a very observant jay, you come to terms that maybe – just maybe – you were eager for the next opportunity you’d get to have jake so close – maybe to finally kiss him, even if you’re interrupted.

DAY 11 - Baby Blue Movie

you didn't think this day would come, but you couldn't wait to get home. ever since the day you almost kissed jake, you decided to go out more – alone preferably. but not even then you could escape him completely. sometimes he was a better company than people you were related to. after spending an afternoon at your mother's house, your energy was completely drained. sure, you loved your family, but you can't ignore disrespect. your mother's childhood was completely different from yours and it's obvious that it would have repercussions in your adulthood, considering that she always voiced that she knew – within maternal standards – what was best for you. and it gets tiring, you lost count of how many times you tried to make her understand your point of view and now you just ignored her complaints – usually successfully, but today it unfortunately didn’t happen.

as you unlock the door, you pray that jake isn't in his playful mode. it would be extremely hard to deal with it today, but when you enter the house and take off your shoes, you can't fool yourself. he was already leaning against the wall that separated the entrance of the house from the living room, a tiny smile on his face and a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. you mentally prepare yourself not to explode at him. after all, he wasn't to blame for anything – he couldn’t possibly be aware of the horrible day you just had. you don’t even greet him as you try to make your way to your room. but he doesn’t move an inch. with lack of something else in mind, you stop in front of him, waiting for him to say whatever lame joke he thought, already thinking of a possible retort. the whole time he watches you – your pretty face contorted in a serious expression he's not usually used to – he thinks that, maybe, you’re mad at him, but he can’t think of something he could have done to make you angry like that. he doesn’t want to overthink anything, so he decides to break the silence. "did… something happen?" voice silent, soothing, like you would bleed if he sounded hostile – or even indifferent, actually. 

and, god, you wanted to yell at him. scream with all the pent up stress you endured all day, because how dare he speak to you like that? like you are fragile, like you need to be taken care of – like he needs to take care of you. the thought of being the object of his tenderness infuriates you. to be seem like you lack affection to the point you’d accept his nice words and gentle eyes. because you would never do that, no. you wouldn’t just give in because he was being kind to you for the first time since you met. but, god, did you want to. with jay’s absence you had no one else – which was kind of depressing, but you didn’t really mind – and with jake’s constant attempts in making you open up to him, it got increasingly harder to not let your guard down. because god knows how hard you’ve been trying to keep your distance, but after today’s stressful events you just wanted some sort of display of affection – something to remind you that you matter and that you are deserving of love just like anyone else is – and the fact that you received it with no second thought apparent from jake made you weak. it made you want to fight him to remain some sort of composure but also apologize for ever misjudging him – apologize for thinking he wouldn’t comfort you at all. but you didn’t do either of those. instead, you look down at your feet taking a deep, shaky breath, murmuring an almost inaudible “yeah… it did, actually.”

nothing could have prepared him for that. he genuinely thought you would brush him off and go to your room. he could have even been fine if a mean, snarky remark came out of your mouth, like it usually happens. but, you didn’t – why didn’t you? why would you answer him honestly and looking so goddamn helpless, like you were in much need of a hug. and for a second, that was precisely what he went to do. however, giving in to those impulses felt like overstepping a boundary, and that was the last thing he wanted to do, especially now that you were letting him see you vulnerable – even if it’s barely. so he tried to not look so terrified of this new territory and went with what felt most secure, wanting to reassure you somehow. “do you want to talk about it?” his voice is casual and steady, like it happens every week and he can perfectly deal with it – except it doesn’t and he can’t, the thought of you allowing him any close to you emotionally makes him dizzy, eager and feeling rather protective.

“shit…” you chuckle inevitably. he was supposed to drop the subject and yet here he is, still trying to get to you. but you try to keep yourself grounded, all your anger and stress has dissipated into pure sadness so far, if he pushes any further you’ll cry. and as you look for a way to put out what is going on in your mind, he wonders what had happened, considering he never saw you like that before. he was ready to hunt down to the gates of hell whoever dragged you to that state. “uh, no,” you sigh. “actually, it would be– yeah. well– ” you stumble over words, another frustrated sigh leaves your mouth and your hands come to face, hiding the obvious emotion written all over it. when you look back at him your eyes are already teary, your hands shake a little as you bring them down, your lips wobbly. you manage to let out a broken “i don’t know, jake…” but by the time you sniffle, about to let your tears stream down your face, jake is right on you. 

his left arm circling your middle pulling you towards him, his right hand on the back of your head tucking your face in his chest and, as he tightly hugs you for a few seconds, he keeps on saying “it’s fine, okay? it doesn’t matter, princess.” so lovingly, it does the job of distracting you from your little meltdown. you notice the way the hug feels so intimate, like it was a forbidden thing to do and you two created a bubble to hide from the world and savour the moment. and it made sense you felt that way, because jake was actually hugging you right now. and you were crying. you were crying in front of jake sim – being comforted by him – and you didn’t care at all. actually, now that you have done all the things you said you weren’t going to, what’s another one, right? that’s what’s in your mind as your arms come to his waist, not to push him away but to further drown yourself in his embrace, taking in his scent. 

and as you two stand there, the dream-like golden beams of light due to the sunset passing through the curtain’s delicate material, your arms around him so willingly and your crying coming down to a halt, jake doesn’t think he could be more content. his heart hurting in his chest knowing that you’re not okay, but also beating as fast as ever before since you’re right there. just so, so close to him, in a way he never thought you'd allow him to. and then he laughs, just a bit, but he can’t help it. and you laugh too, wholeheartedly. because you cannot deny yourself the fact that you too felt content, even though you’re crying and he’s doing that just for the sake of comforting you. but that's precisely what makes it so important – is his effort in doing so the best way he can.

DAY 18 - WA-R-R

you woke up feeling great. it has been so nice to actually have a full break from college, you have time to do all the things you like without worrying about anything. well, almost anything. it’s been a week since the crying incident happened and you two never brought it up again. jake was okay with it. he thought you didn’t want to talk about any of it, since once you felt lighter you just quietly apologized for crying on him like you did and went to your room. but you didn’t know that, and you were starting to feel like a burden. you needed to properly thank him for comforting you, but you had no idea how.

it was currently a quarter past three in the afternoon and you were boiling on your couch from the heat. jake had left for the gym right after lunch and you had nothing to do, beginning to feel unsettled from the boredom. deciding on doing something productive, you take a shower and get dressed to go to the supermarket. you were out of a few things and it would be nice to leave the house and enjoy the weather, despite the fact that you’d much rather go to the beach. once ready, you go to the kitchen to check if you weren’t forgetting anything so you could add to the list, that’s when you hear the front door opening. jake walks in just a few seconds later, eyes roaming over your figure as he immediately catches the scent of your favorite perfume – are you going somewhere? 

his black fit – sleeveless compression shirt and loose dri-fit shorts – knocked the air out of your lungs, but you didn’t have time for that. “i’m going grocery shopping, do you want something?” you ask, pretending to still check the cupboards.

“yeah, actually. but i think it’s best if i go with you…” he says casually, like he wasn’t dying to have a domestic day with you – going to the market, choosing what you’re going to do for dinner, helping you carry the grocery bags. “you know…? so you won’t buy anything wrong.”

you scoff, turning to look at him. “you’re projecting, you know i wouldn’t mistake your protein bars or whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes and propping yourself on the counter. you glance at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. faking a mix of disgust and judgment on your face, you point towards his clothes. “are you going like that?”

he checks himself, like he didn’t know what could be wrong with his outfit, and with a confused look on his face he says, “well, yes. why wouldn’t i?”

you arch your brows mockingly, shrugging. “i don’t know. you tell me, jake,” and then you chuckle from your teasing.

he rolls his eyes, feeling dumb for not realizing sooner that you were just messing with him – like always. “you’re so annoying, what the hell…” he murmurs, suppressing an amused laugh and completes, “come on, let’s go in my car.”

his car smelled like him, the woody perfume he would usually wear was everywhere – you failed to notice that the first time you rode with him. as you put the seatbelt on and he starts the car, he says “do you want to put some music on?” giving you his phone and driving off your apartment’s garage.

“sure, what do you wanna listen to?” you ask, rolling through his playlist. the ride to the store was actually short, but a little music is always nice to have. 

“whatever, you can press play on random,” he answers, eyes locked on the streets ahead. just as he finished speaking, he heard the soft beat of a korean r&b melody starting to play very lowly. he went to turn up the volume, only for his hand to bump into yours – you were going to turn the volume up a bit as well, after resting his phone on your thighs. 

a beat of awkward silence passes by and you two sneak a glance between each other. after laughing a bit embarrassed you softly say, “sorry, i was just gonna turn it up a bit.” moving your hand back to your lap.

he chuckles, without really knowing what to do he turns the volume up himself, saying “no, it’s okay. i was going to do the same.”

the song takes over the silence, its nicely tuned vocals filling the space, and you can’t help but share, “i love this song…” your voice is peaceful as you speak.

jake loves the comment, loves that you’re the one starting the small talk. “really? i thought you were more of a 2000s pop type of girl…” he says, bringing back that fact that you were listening to justin timberlake a few days ago.

you smile, “yeah, that too. but there’s nothing quite like korean r&b,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. and it felt so nice to be comfortable around him, to talk like you do with jay – like you’ve known him for years.

“i mean, you’re right. but i’m suspicious, i was born in korea, so…” he trails off, and as you two feed the conversation more and more with small details of your life, he can only thank his complete genius idea of following you everywhere – it in fact did pay off, eventually.

when you get to the supermarket, the whole shopping process is actually very quick, you buy the essentials and all the things that were in your list, jake buys a lot of barley tea bottles and you two decide that italian food was the best option for dinner today, so you buy everything you need to make pasta – you also have to decide which bottle of wine you were going to buy and that itself takes most of your time, both finding joy in fake disagreeing with each other. after getting to the checkout and paying for your purchases, you and jake walk back to the car and settle everything to ride back home. 

once at home you ask jake to put some music on the TV so you could unpack the groceries and start cooking dinner. surprised that you were offering to make dinner – knowing that usually he’s the one to make dinner and you make lunch – he asks, “why are you so willing saying that you’re gonna make our dinner today?” his voice accusing and wary, like you about to prank him. approaching you after putting on the same playlist that was playing in the car, he starts to help you unpack the grocery bags that were scattered on the counter. 

“can’t a girl feel like cooking twice in a day?” you say, purely to tease him, because after letting out a little laugh you add up almost instantly, “i just wanted to, i don’t know, thank you for being so nice to me the other day.”

“the other day? which day?” he was confused, it was pretty visible by his frown and inquiring voice.

you sigh, not wanting to extend the subject, but clarifying anyway, mumbling “the day that i cried in front of you…”

his realization comes quickly, a soft “ah!” leaving his lips. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to think that it was anything other than the bare minimum – you didn’t have to make him a meal just because you felt like you needed to pay him back. both of you knew that he had no second intentions when he comforted you. “you know, you don’t have to–” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“i know, i know. but i really want to,” you say, voice steady like you practiced the speech all week – which you did, but that was nothing but a small detail, he didn’t have to know. “i want to show that i’m grateful somehow, so just let me.”

he just nods, pleased that your communication was improving. dinner time was really nice, you two shared a bottle of wine, talked a lot about how your music taste was actually similar and how cooking can be a fun activity once you grow comfortable with it – you were both kind of tipsy at that point.

as he helps you tidy up the kitchen, he cherished the evening you had. it was nice to know that you started to share a bond now, even if you still tried to keep your distance somehow. “thanks, for the dinner,” he says, cheeks flushed both from the alcohol and from the way you were so close to him, drying the dishes as he washed them.

you hummed, feeling sleepy from the alcohol and tired from the day. you lay your head on his shoulder – as much as you can with the height difference – and answer, “it was nice, right? we should do it again some day.”

jake can only laugh as he shakes his head – you were just too cute. “yeah… we should.”

DAY 23 - Let Go

you couldn’t be happier, today was finally the day you were going to the beach. as you got your things ready, you talked to jake about how dumb it was for you to have delayed this for so many days. jake has the idea of making some snacks and you help him do everything. throughout all the time that it takes for you and jake to make sandwiches and pack your beach bag and his backpack with everything you were going to need, you were talking nonstop. it was inevitable with the way you started to get along the past few days since your dinner together, honestly. you were also much more at ease in his presence, so you started to share a few more wholesome moments. still, he judges your choices for two piece bikinis and you say it was best if he didn’t take his shirt off – to save people’s sanity – and you fight over which snacks you were going to take in your little trip. it was all really fun, you could never try to deny that. once everything was ready, you two got ready to go.

the ride to the beach was rather calm. the music in the background was soothing and the beach you chose to go to wasn't far from your place, so jake drove you there and in less than an hour you were in the sand, sitting on your beach mat. the day was summery just like the others that have passed, only this time you could sunbathe and swim – a perfect day, you would say. jake was sitting by your side, watching you put on sunscreen – admiring you, that was more like it.

when you’re done, he points towards the sunscreen bottle on your hand and doesn't think twice before asking, “can you do my face and back?” he watches your concentrated face, but it doesn't change a bit, you stay expressionless. he tries again, “please…?”

you grimace, and move to sit face to face with him. “what? you can’t do it?” you ask, but it’s not really a criticism.

he laughs, and flicks your forehead. “of course i can, you brat. it’s just better if you do it,” he says, like it’s so obvious and you fake a look of disgust. he adds, “i can’t miss a chance to have your hands all over me, baby,” and winks.

you roll your eyes, but start to apply some sunscreen on his face, answering, “shut up and close your eyes, loverboy.” you use the moment to take in his appearance, closed eyes and parted lips from his talking. he was always so beautiful for you, you wished you could let him know in a way that didn’t felt like you were putting your heart in his hands – which was impossible, because that was the only kind of fondness you knew with him, devotion.

he does what you tell him, closing his eyes, but he keeps on talking – a smile on his face all throughout it. “you can’t push me away, princess. i know how your mind works by now,” his voice filled with enjoyment.

“yeah, yeah. i know, jake, you say that everyday,” you reply, but you're smiling too. finding joy in his words, but oblivious to how evident his feelings were. “okay, face done. now i’m gonna put it on your back, turn around for me, please.”

he turns around, his eyes glinting with unmistakable affection from your disponibility to do it for him – the way you ask him ‘please’ sticks to his mind a little more than it's considered healthy. once you’re done he gets up on his feet and holds your hand. “come on, we’re going in the sea.”

“woah there, loverboy. i know you need me to do everything with you, but at least wait until the sunscreen soaks in.” you say, and use the fact that he was still holding your hand to push him down to sit by your side once again.

he complies, his thigh brushing against your as he settles down next to you. you both take in the view. the sea is rather calm, the waves seem to crash slowly. the sun is unforgiving, but in a pleasant way, and the eventual breeze that hits your bodies is a nice way to recover from the heat. you don’t realize that you’re still holding hands, but jake is very aware of the act. so much so he fights the urge to stroke his thumb along your hand, so that you won’t grow annoyed from his display of affection. it’s not until an old lady passes by, selling handmade bracelets, that you notice just how close you guys are to each other.

the woman stops by you two and asks, very fondly, “oh, hello, young man. would you want to buy a bracelet for your girlfriend?” she’s pointing at you, and oddly enough you don’t feel like correcting her. in fact, you don’t say anything, you just smile at the lady and turn to look at jake, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“oh, yes! do you have matching ones?” he asks her, paying you no attention. his response comes immediately, and you’re caught off guard at just how natural it came to him – like you were actually boyfriend and girlfriend, like it wasn’t even a thing to consider in the first place.

they get into a conversation about her process of making the bracelets and how much they cost, eventually he buys two – only then he lets go of hand, because he needed to pay the old woman – and she thanks your attention as both of you wave her goodbye.

your head snaps in his direction. giving him a quizzed look, you don’t even have to say anything for him to speak, “look, it wasn’t going to change anything in her life if we said we weren’t together. if anything we’d just make her ashamed of her mistake…” his voice is quiet, like you’d argue with him for what he did. 

but you don’t. in fact, you just say, “i’m surprised by how easily you played along, but i’m not gonna kill you. relax,” you’re chuckling, and you add “i didn’t get to see which ones you bought…”

he stares at you, dumbfounded. “what?” he asks, wondering if he heard you wrong. were you just letting that slide? like he just didn’t pretend you were his girlfriend to a total stranger? weren’t you the one who refused to let him close? “did you enjoy being my girlfriend, is that it?” he teases, but he’s not joking. he actually wants to know this time, he needs the rest it’ll provide him.

you cough, choking a bit. what should you do? did you enjoy it? you’re not sure, but for some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t. not only because upsetting him felt so mean of you, but because you realized that you weren’t opposed to the idea of dating him. “god, don’t make it weird and let me see the bracelets…” you say, changing the subject. but decided to mumble in addition,  “if i didn’t say anything, it means that i didn’t mind.”

he smiles, and it outshines the sun. jake wasn’t one to be pessimistic, but he often opted for a more realistic approach when it came to you, so to see you opening up like that – letting him genuinely see you and understand you – made his body shiver with anticipation of what you’d share next. he senses your will to not deep dive into the matter so he gives into your wishes to see the bracelets. “here, give me your hand so i can put it on you…” he says, but he can barely control his excitement. he ties the bracelet in your wrist and asks for you to do the same for him, both of you admiring the colorful object that now was a reminder of a thing only you two shared. you fall into a nice, comfortable silence. the unspoken feelings surrounding you but not in a scary way, the sounds of the waves crashing doing nothing to drown your rapid heartbeats. in moments like these you question just how much you should try to keep jake away, only for you to choose not to do it at all – you were just letting it flow, it would pain you more to pretend you didn’t like what was growing between you. 

and that’s just how the day goes. you swim in the sea and share your snacks, it truly feels like a beach episode from your favorite anime. once you get back home, the tiredness from the long day – even though it was fun and uplifting – sinks in. after you and jake have straightened things up and showered, you both decide to settle on the couch.

you were hardly registering the movie that was playing on the screen. jake had his hand on your head, fingers mindlessly scratching your scalp, a loving gesture that only pushed you closer to sleep. as you started to drift off, your head found its way to jake’s shoulder, face hiding on his neck. jake gasped at the proximity, but after a few seconds he adjusted you on his body, hugging your waist. before either of you could realize, the two of you had already fallen asleep.

DAY 35 - All Mine

when jake wakes up, he’s a mess. he feels his hair sticking on his forehead due to his sweat. his legs feel shaky, his boxers sticky and his heart is hammering in his ribcage. it takes him a few moments to realize that he’s laying in his bed, having fallen asleep with you the night before while you two played cards late at night. the next thing he realizes is that you’re no longer with him. he checks his phone, it’s half past eight in the morning. he slumps back on the mattress, right hand coming down to palm the evident erection on his sleeping shorts, cock still hard despite the fact that he had clearly cummed during his sleep. he had woken up from a very messy, very erotic dream, his breath was calming down as he took in his surroundings, but his mind was still in a haze from the vivid memories from his dream – where you and him did all the things he craved to do to you. his right hand’s grip tightens around his clothed girth, his arousal growing while he feeds his imagination, thinking just how cute you’d look with your eyes tight such and your mouth hanging open as your lips let out the most beautiful sounds of his name, while he’s buried inside–.

he sits up, instantly. he couldn’t act like he lived alone, and even though he very much wanted to get off right now, he wouldn’t want to have you walk in on him – well, he wouldn’t mind if he felt like you would be okay with it, but he couldn’t know if that was the case. the past few days were wonderful, he loved every second of it. you and him were growing closer and closer, to the point you did everything together. after the day you spent on the beach, both of you decided to start hanging out more often. you did all sorts of things – you even did go back to the beach, going to a drive-in that was happening nearby – and it was starting to get hard to avoid the inevitable. jake was beginning to break, the time you’ve been spending together only further pushing him to his darkest, most lust-filled thoughts. he wondered if you felt the same, or if he was just another homie to you. if you want him the way he wants you it shouldn’t be hard to notice, right? he thinks that he should pay more attention to your body language, to see if you give him any opening to tumble over the edge of the hanging tension. but then he wonders, where are you anyway? intrigued, he leaves his room to look for you, only to find an empty house. you weren’t anywhere to be found, neither in the kitchen nor in your room. he sits on the couch, and as he was about to text you to know your whereabouts he hears the clicking of the keys on the front door. he sits back, checking his bulge briefly – that had subsided considerably – and waits for you to show up, fingers interlaced, his hands resting on his lap.

you had woken up pretty early and decided to buy strawberry cheesecake for breakfast at a bakery nearby and some coffee at your favorite coffee shop, choosing to not text jake because you thought you’d be back before he woke up – which clearly did not happen. when you see him sitting on the couch you stop, standing comically – awkwardly – at the hall that separates the living room from the kitchen.

“hi, you’re up,” you state, looking at him – eyes roaming over his figure, he seemed sus. not waiting for his answer you turn left, walking towards the kitchen counter to settle what you bought for breakfast.

jake is hot on your tail, replying, “where have you been, huh?” his tone is playful, but you can tell he’s actually curious to know.

“uh… i don’t see how it concerns you?” you answer, teasingly. your smile the most genuine it could ever be, since jake with his ‘recently woken up’ look was the cutest. then you add, “i bought coffee, and cheesecake.”

“oh god, yes! love me some sweets in the morning,” he says, settling down at the counter while eyeing your figure – the fabric of your jeans shorts seemingly sinfully pretty around your thighs, your baby blue crop top making him want to ogle your breasts. were you always this hot? “uh, thanks for bringing coffee for me too…”

“don’t mention it,” you say, at last. sitting down on his side you two start to eat, then you remember something. “hey, how did you sleep? i woke up in the middle of the night and went to my room. sorry, if i woke you.”

jake feels relief wash over his entire figure to know you weren’t there if he made any suggestive sounds during his sleep. “actually, i’m a heavy sleeper, so you wouldn’t wake me like that,” he answers and after pausing for a few seconds he finishes, “i slept ok, without crazy dreams or whatever.”

you laugh, his words seeming rushed for you and oddly explanatory, which was out of character of him – especially since he was so slow in the mornings. was he nervous? “ok, jake. if you say so…” you say, just for the sake of getting on his nerves – and maybe to get him to say something about what really happened.

“yah! what are you suggesting? i slept like a baby, ok? with baby dreams…” he states, defensively. and you laugh harder, your hand coming to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle at least some of it – which didn’t happen.

in between your gasps for air, you say, “oh, so you dreamed of unicorns and princesses then.” your teasing sentence only half well delivered, since you were still trying to recover from your fit of laughter.

jake’s mind was racing while he nervously tried to change the subject. however, in between his thoughts of his not exactly baby-like dream, he lets out the first thing that comes to his mind, “if you’d call yourself princess, then i guess you could say that, yeah…” he says, his voice sounding playful. you stall, confusion written all over your face.

“wait, does that mean you- did you dream about me?” you ask, incredulous. you brows coming together to emphasize the chaos that was your mind at his statement. he laughs, shaking his head, truly amazed at how easily he gave himself in. knowing that there was no denying what he said just now, he only nods, taking yet another slice of the cheesecake you were sharing. but you had long forgotten how to eat, in fact you don’t think you can do anything else at the moment. 

letting your curiosity speak louder you decide to try your luck. “what… did you dream about?” you ask, voice small despite its certainty. you decide to not look at him, eyeing the plate in front of you as he ate the last piece of the cheesecake. you take a sip of your coffee.

“you, duh,” he says matter-of-factly, and laughs like you weren’t dying from not knowing. “why do you want to know, anyway? does it matter that much, princess?” his tongue brushes the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress the smirk threatening to take place in his lips. the situation’s much more entertaining than he initially thought it would be. 

“oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you huff and get up, making your way to the sink to wash the dishes you just used. he stares at you, amused at the tantrum your throwing over something he thought you’d just brush off, probably just making a comment about how in love he’s in with you – jokingly, of course.

“okay, okay. i’ll tell you, alright?” he says, bringing his hands up as if surrendering to you. you stop what you’re doing just to turn your head to him slightly. you eye him, an unreadable expression in your face and he chuckles a bit – he really does like you. at last, he says “i dreamed i got hurt in a zombie apocalypse and you left me behind…” his voice is obviously playful, but you fail to realize he was being ironic.

so you only sigh, your lips forming an involuntary pout as you hummed in acknowledgement, turning back to dry your hands after you finished your task. his answer breaks your expectations, leaving you confused as to why you thought he’d say something else – why you wanted him to say something else. maybe it was the way he was staring at you since you arrived, or the way he seemed so nervous talking about his dream, you thought maybe it meant he saw you in a way that wasn’t just ‘his roommate’. but, maybe it was all in your head anyways.

he comes behind, not touching you whatsoever, his hands finding their place at the counter in front of you the same time you finish your task – and he realizes he’s feeling oddly familiar with the situation, like a deja vu. he whispers then, voice seductive and full of intentions, “did you want me to say that i had a erotic dream?” his question catches you off guard, you use your now free hands to support yourself at the edge of the sink. you head falls to your shoulder, eyes closing as a sigh passes your lips. fuck, why is he dirty talking to you all of sudden? why do you like it? you decide that all your doubts and worries are for the future you to deal with, right now you just want to know how far this can go. still, you can help the nervousness that gets a hold of your demeanor. shaking your head, you start, “n-no, that’s not it, why would you–”

but jake was not having it. he cuts you off mid-sentence, face coming closer to your ear, lips brushing over it ever so slightly while he whispers lowly – as if you were in a room filled with people and he only wanted you to hear –, “are you really going to lie to me like that, baby?” and just like that you’re speechless, but that doesn’t matter one bit, because jake keeps on talking, “i dreamed you were underneath me doing all sort of cute noises while i fucked you on my bed. is that what you expected me to say? or was that pout on your pretty lips for another reason, princess?”

“w-what…?” you utter, confused. he’s getting to you too damn fast for your liking – your panties growing damp at the thought of him having a wet dream about you. you speak your mind, “what the fuck, jake? how can you say things like that…”

“like what? so directly? you know i’m not one to play games, princess,” he says and uses the little switch of topic to spin you around. his hands find your waist to urge you to face him and you comply, but you don’t look into his eyes yet, embarrassment having a tight grip around you. so his right hand comes to your face and you barely feel his fingers as he tilts your chin up softly, bringing you to face him so he can lock eyes with you, his hand falling to your waist a second after. his gaze is intense, filled with emotion – one you’re yet to allow yourself to admit aloud you reciprocate. the silence starts to grow bothersome so you decide to voice your thoughts once again, not really expecting this moment to turn into a heart to heart conversation – but honestly, you love that jake provides this for you.

“i know. but, you’re making me nervous,” you confide in a mumble, fidgeting fingers on your back but you don’t break eye contact – your puppy eyes fucking jake’s mind up. he knows what you mean, you’ve talked about this before. you’re not one to let people in, so to have him so casually stripping you out of your comfort zone can be really stressing – it doesn’t mean you don’t want him to, though.

jake cuckles, he does think you’re adorable from time to time – everyday – and he’s determined to make you comfortable with what you want – well, that being him – so he makes a point of saying, “that’s cute, princess. you’re only nervous because you keep refraining yourself from doing what you want…” he says, almost melodically. “and i know very well that you want me.”

there’s a knowing glint in his eyes and you know he knows, that’s what your relationship was always about – he’s been obvious about his desires, you were the one who poorly attempted to deny it. so you sigh defeated, as you watch his pretty eyes and easy smile. you touch his arms, hands traveling up to his cheeks where you leave a soft squeeze with your palms, squishing them together. you both let out a giggle, then your fingers intertwin on his nape, your body closing the distance between you and him. 

jake is not surprised that you took the initiative, but he couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. his heart is beating unforgivingly in his chest, it aches the best kind of pain and he lets out a sound of relief, pleasure and pure fulfillment. his hands grips your waist harder trying to ground himself, but nothing is enough – he is losing all self control and he couldn’t care less. because your hands were on his neck, nails scratching lovingly the back of his head, your chest pressed on his and your lips passionately kissing him – having you on his hands for him to touch and hold was messing with his head. the kiss that takes place is outstanding, it makes both you and him breathless way too quickly. you pull away first, your teeth prodding your bottom lip for a moment before jake is on you again.

this kiss is much more devastating than the first one, when your tongues meet you can hardly contain the whine that tries to leave your lips, but maybe it’s the way jake shoves you against the counter behind you that knocks the air out of your lungs. none of you know how long you stay making out, your fingers interlace on jake’s locks and he anticipates the moment you will pull it, but you don’t. he grows impatient, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, where he squeezes hard, then he pushes himself from you, interrupting the kiss in the middle. you’re panting, chest heaving and lips red and swollen from the kissing, the sight making heat spread all over his body and his arousal only increases, the bulge on his pants begging to be simulated and he wonders how affected you are by all of this. despite the hot feeling of your hasty breath, nothing really gives away your inner state. and you try to keep it that way, but your mind is foggy and you can barely form coherent thoughts aside from the burning lust, that’s all you can discern. you thought you could be stronger when it came to your sexual desires, but jake fucks up all your attempts in keeping a composed attitude. because you wanted nothing more than to let go and be led, to allow him to do whatever he wanted to. that’s how much you trusted him, how much you craved him.

you’re so lost in your submissive reverie that you fail to realize that jake actually said something. it isn’t until his hands cups your cheeks that your attention turns to him.

“hm…?” you hum and it’s supposed to be a question, but you can really say something else. he understands, though, slowly catching on to what your behaviour meant. 

testing the waters, he asks “do you want to go upstairs, baby?” softly, trying not to sound like you had to. you nod, eagerly so, making him smile, tilting his head to the side. “you’re much too quiet, princess,” he says, his smile fading to a smirk as continued, “go on, use your words.”

the way he says it is borderline condescending. the patronizing superiority twists your insides and your heart rate speeds up, a familiar feeling making its way to your stomach like butterflies. you curse every cell in your body for being so responsive. you focus on the fact that it’s a simple question, one he already knows the answer to. “yes…” you voice out, not without stuttering and jake is amazed. 

he pushes further, wanting to strip every layer of this newfound trait of yours. “huh? yes what, princess?” and it’s a trap, because he’s not expecting anything specific, you may or may not know what to answer, it doesn’t matter because jake is doing it with the sole purpose of teasing you.

but you don’t know that, and even if everything in you is telling you to address him with a respectful honorific, you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning that so easily, so you do what’s best, you play innocent. “yes, i wanna go upstairs,” your voice sounding much more controlled and with barely any sides of your emerging submissiveness.

jake laughs at your answer, eyes scanning you with unmistaken amusement. he shakes his head, grabbing your hand as he speaks, “you’re impossible.”

he uses your intertwined fingers to pull you with him, all the way until you’re passing through his bedroom door. once inside, he sits on the end of his bed, hands coming to your hips as he looks up at you. that’s when everything sinks in. nothing could’ve prepared you for the devastating reality that you’re a moment away from letting jake undress you – letting him fuck you. his alluring presence drowns your senses, you want nothing else than to please him. 

he sees it in your eyes, so he feels obligated to act on it. “come sit, princess,” he says and pulls you to his lap. you fall right after, thighs finding their place on his sides as your hands touch his chest. “you’re so pretty,” his hands are caressing your waist under the fabric of your shirt. “so, so pretty,” he adds, placing kisses on your cheeks, and then your neck. “makes me want to ruin you all the time,” he pulls you even closer, the motion making your hips collide with his. his dick impossibly hard underneath you, you fists his shirt at the feeling. he started to leave hickeys on your skin, his path well marked as he love bites his way to the valley of your breasts. you can feel the smirk on his lips as he trails kisses on your skin, but you are engrossed in the intoxicating feeling of his hands traveling up your body. when you realize, he’s already taking your top off, eyes shamelessly falling to your naked torso. “you always leave the house without a bra on?” he asks, not really accusing you of anything, his hands instantly coming to grope them, thumbs tenderly flicking your nipples and your response is almost embarrassingly quick. you’re taken by surprise, a soft moan slips past your lips and your hips grind on him. he appreciates the sound, his dick twitching in his sleeping shorts as he squeezes your boobs harder. 

you answer him, voice coming weaker than you expected as you speak, “no… not really.” you have your hands sliding under his shirt, pulling the fabric with you as you feel the warm skin of his chest on your palms, you want to see him too. “can you… take your shirt off too?”

“look at you, being so well mannered…” he says and you roll your eyes, his praise makes your panties grow wetter by the minute. he keeps talking though, making no move to remove his shirt just yet. “although, i think that there’s one word missing, princess…”

you understand him immediately, the words coming out easily, “please…? can you take your shirt off, please?” you rephrase, and jake’s mind goes over drive. he already wants you begging for him.

is almost funny, to know that you two are living the moment he has been anticipating ever since he was first trapped with you in that bathroom in a random college party. he’s lightheaded from the unceasing sensations he experiences with you and his smile is the perfect display of it, breathtaking and contagious. he lifts his arms for you to finish taking the shirt off his torso, you drop it on the floor. his hands settle back on you, falling on your thighs with a smack on which one, as he gets back to trailing kisses down your neck, until his tongue envelops your nipple. he’s still smiling when you moan from the sudden stimulation, but he moans with you after you grind down on him at a specific hard bite he delivers. “you’re into pain or something?” he asks you, moving to your other boob, teeth grazing the skin before he bites it, softer than he wanted, just to test his theory.

you right hand tangles in his hair, fingers gripping the locks but not really pulling at it – which he really wants you to –, your left hand splayed on his chest, nails threatening to dig on his skin. he laughs in disbelief, biting harder – not enough to leave a mark, yet –  and your hips move involuntarily on his, humping his throbbing dick, desperate for a real form of stimulation between your legs. “oh god, you are into it.” he states, and delivers another slap on your thigh.

you bite your lip, and say “you do realize how sadistic this makes you look, right?” in defiance, but your affected tone makes no effect whatsoever. 

his answer is instant, “and you do realize how much of a masochist i think you are now, right?” his mocking tone getting to your and further wetting your panties, that must be completely destroyed by now. he continues his assault in your chest, that already has some red and purple marks blooming here and there.

“i-i’m not…” you start, both hips and voice stuttering from his movements, the fabric of your jeans starting to make you uncomfortable as you rub yourself harder on his erection, jake’s hands groping your skin from the stimulation, the rhythm of your movements torturously slow for his liking. “i’m not a masochist,” you manage to say, and jake laughs from your little act. 

“no, just a painslut...” he says, and your muffled whine is enough of an answer for him. “but don’t worry, baby. you make such a pretty slut for me.”

“fuck…” is all you can mumble, pussy clenching around nothing as you keep grinding on his bulge, dry humping him for all your worth. but jake had enough of that, he wants more – he needs more. so he grabs one of your thighs’ underside with one hand, the other going to your waist as he moves you on the bed. in a second you're laying on your back on the mattress, but you don’t have time to be surprised. jake touches your knee in an attempt to get you to open your legs and you comply, slowly moving them apart to accommodate his hips.

his hands travel to undo the button of your shorts, fingers pulling the zipper down all the way but he doesn’t slide the fabric off your legs. instead, he stuffs his hand inside of it, fingers gliding over your dripping wet slit. “shit, you’re fucking soaked, princess…” he almost growls, forehead resting on your shoulder. “want to fuck you till we pass out,” it’s just a harmless confession, one he doesn’t truly mean, but you don’t care.

“so do it,” you sound desperate, his index and middle finger teasing your entrance while his thumb presses on your clit. he wasn’t moving, and it was driving you insane. you thrust your hips forward, trying to get him to do something, but he doesn’t.

he chuckles, his smirk hidden from your eyes, but you could feel it when he pressed his lips to your ear, leaving an openmouthed kiss in it. “so soon? where’s the fun in that?” he says rhetorically, he has been dying to bury himself inside you, but he still wants to play with you some more. “need to prep you first, baby.”

your moan is music to his ears when he inserts his fingers in you with a quick motion, pleasure running through your veins. but it wasn’t enough. you didn’t want that, you wanted his dick inside you. “f-fuck, jake… jake, please,” is the first glimpse of a plea, and jake is relishing on it. he quickens his movements, fingers working on your walls like magic. he brings his thumb back to your clit, drawing little imaginary circles in it and your head falls back, back arching as you push your hips forward again. “jake, j-jake… please, fuck me. wanna cum on your cock.”

although he really wanted to, he couldn’t resist your plea. he doesn’t need to be told twice, taking his fingers out slowly and helping you out of your shorts and underwear. he takes his shorts off along his boxers right after, his dick slapping his stomach as he does so.

once he’s between your thighs there isn’t much to be said, he’s already guiding his dick to your entrance when your legs wrap around his waist. you both moan at the intrusion, the stretch making your mind go blank as your head falls to the side, right hand finding support on his back as your left hands tangled on his locks. you’re both panting and you barely started, his thrusts are sharp, he reaches so deep in you. your closed eyes and open mouth are better to watch than jake could ever imagine, he wishes he could have this everyday. “oh my god, fuck–” he swears, hand gripping you jaw to give you a kiss. it’s messy, your tongues meet more outside than inside your mouths. when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting you two. his weight is supported on his forearms as he moves to mark your neck mumbling, “y-you feel so good princess, so goddamn good.”

the room smells like sex, your hands try desperately to somehow steady yourself in that moment that didn't seem like reality at all. jake pressed his hips into yours harder and harder with each kiss he left on your neck, his mouth brought you little by little closer to heaven and you let a specific loud whine escape your lips. you could feel his smile as he raised his head so he could kiss your mouth with unquestionable desire once again. you use your legs to pull him closer and his eyes roll back under his eyelids. you arch your back slightly, your chest pressing against his and your fingers – finally – pulling on his strands. jake brokes the kiss to moan and looks at you in that surrendered way he always does. he just couldn't help himself, he needed to ruin you just a little bit more.

“so beautiful, my princess.” his possessive tone making you clench around him, his hand moves from your side to your neck, where he gives it a light squeeze, and then he grabs your cheeks with one hand. not too hard, but enough to make you lift your face. “open your mouth for me, love.” and you comply. your mouth parted slightly and your eyes glued to his, but he’s too lost watching you run the tip of your tongue between your lips to notice. he uses his thumb to open your mouth even wider, naturally salivating at the thought of what he would do next.

when his spit meets your tongue and you swallow without protest, he is gone. the moan he fails to contain comes out muffled as he presses his face back into your neck. the hand that was previously on your cheek goes down to your thigh where he delivers a harsh squeeze. “fuck…” he whispers, inevitably moving his hips to fuck you harder, faster. he was too lost in the feeling, and so were you. 

the intoxication sensation of your orgasm comes quickly, and it’s devastating. jake takes notice of the way your nails run down his back, the other pulling on his hair and your legs impossibly tight around his waist. “would look at that– ah–, you’re going to cum, baby?” he asks, voice low and wavering, “are you?”

you hum, your moans impossible to suppress. you drool on the fabric of the mattress – you were so, so close. jake has other plans, though. “oh, c-come on now, princess… we’ve– ah– talked about it a-already,” he says, hand coming to your neck, adding some pressure – just enough for your eyes to roll back on your closed eyelids. he loves to watch it, his own release coming fast and unforgiving. “use your words.”

“i– fuck– can i cum, jake? p-please…” you start, eyes opening to lock with his as best as you can. “please! jake, ah– i can’t hold it a-anymore…” you cry out, head lolling back once more. “f-feels so good, so good.”

jake can’t hold it back any longer too, hips unrelenting at your begging. “go ahead, baby. cum for me.” he whispers, and it feels like you fall over the edge immediately. the unceasing clenching of your walls only pushing him to his orgasm too, thick ropes painting your inner thigh as he pulls out. the wave of pleasure that overtakes you both is devastatingly good, you can barely discern what's happening as whispered “thank you’s” fall from your lips. when you both fall back to reality you’re sweaty and breathless. he drops his weight on you, arms caging your body as his head finds the comfort of your chest. you giggle and hug his shoulders, eyes too heavy from tiredness to keep them open. you fall asleep before the both of you can say anything. jake senses your calming breath, choosing to clean himself and you up before giving into the temptation of sleep as well. he dresses you on his shirt that was on the floor after putting on his boxers, hugging you from behind whispering sweet nothings to you, lulling himself to sleep.

DAY 37 - Fool For You

you’ve never been one to give in to awkwardness. you pride yourself on being quite a light presence, always funny or trying to make everyone feel comfortable. but it wasn’t until you had sex with jake that it changed. because, sadly, now you’re just always nervous around him. it had been two days since he claimed you for himself – two days and you still haven’t really faced him. what could you do, really? pretend it never happened? act like the big deal it was and possibly ruin everything? acknowledge what happened but act like it's not going to destroy every single wall you've built around yourself?

you felt hopeless and you missed him – so much. because after what you two shared, there was no room for doubt, no room for hiding the undeniable truth. you were deeply, madly and uncontrollably in love with jake. so much so it hurted you. so much so you could tell everyone and you would never feel ashamed of it. but, what about him? how could you ask him if you didn’t even know how to allow yourself to be vulnerable like that? to let him in like he was always there –  although it felt like he had always been part of you, you also couldn’t help but overthink it. you felt like he understood you even if no words were spoken, but would it really be enough for him to know that you loved him? would you be enough for him? did he feel the same? god, did he even like you at all? and as you torture yourself – feeling like you could actually feel a physical discomfort from all the thinking and loving and wanting you had trapped inside you –, jake was losing his mind.

he was in complete despair, like he’ll never have you. all of the time it took for him to get to know you, to get close to you – it felt meaningless –, and now you were slipping right through his fingers all over again. it wasn’t fair. he knew you felt something for him. and it was driving him insane, because if you felt even just a little bit of what he feels, then it was enough for forever. even if you feel just five percent of what he feels for you, you would make it until the end of the world. but it didn't matter, because you hadn’t talked to him yet. he was feeling like he was left to die of starvation, your absence making him hallucinate. making him question just how much he wouldn’t do for you – only so he could finally have you. because he was feeling like he could do it all, but he needed you to come to him. to allow him to truly see you, to truly feel you. so he decided to wait. wait for you to come to terms with the reality you seemed so against living and then he’d do everything – anything to keep you by his side.

even if you weren’t sure about how things would turn out, you know it was you who had to make the first move and when you decide to get your shit together, you walk straight to his room. looking calm on the exterior, but completely wrecked on the inside, yet it’s kinda funny for you. you have nothing to fear anyway, expect for, well, a rejection – but it wasn't really going to stop you. when you get to his door you take a few deep breaths, gathering the courage that was just a few seconds ago all over you but seemed to suddenly vanish. you grow eager, as if it was all coming to realization. it feels so fucking right you could cry, you decide to knock before it all becomes too much. doing it softly, you wait for him to answer, cleaning your sweaty palms on the sides of your sleeping shorts.

jake’s listening to some random “songs for studying” playlist on youtube while scrolling through his media when he hears the soft knock on his door. he freezes, what was happening? he jumps out of bed, looking around checking if anything needed replacing. when he sees everything’s fine he walks to the door, but remembers he had changed into his sleeping clothes, so he goes back to check himself in the mirror, only for him to run a hand through his hair and get right back to the door. once there he doesn’t think twice, swinging the door open. “hi!”

you get startled by the sudden movement. jake looks like he has the energy to run a marathon and is hardly holding himself from doing so. it’s cute. you look at his puppy-like eyes, his lips slightly parted and his hair falling in his brows. you almost say right then and there, but you hold it – waiting for a more appropriate moment. instead, you say “uh, hi.” and then you giggle, looking down to your feet and then back at him. “what are you doing right now?”

he lets out a giggle himself, a bit more at ease now that he knows you’re not there bringing bad news. then he answers, “honestly? nothing,” and he laughs at his own sentence.

“good, can i come in then?” you ask, but before he could even answer you’re already explaining yourself, “it’s just– uh, i want to talk to you…”

he smiles nervously, stepping aside so you can come in. after you walk in, he guides you to his bed by your shoulder and then he lays on his side, propped on his left arm. “tell me all about it, baby.”

the nickname makes goosebumps raise all over your body, but maybe it was the fact that you had acknowledged you want this whole thing so much – maybe it was burning in you all along just waiting for an excuse to be freed. “i… so, i wanted to–” you stutter, growing a bit nervous.

“hey,” he grabs your hands that were in your lap. “relax! you’re kinda freaking me out, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood. he could see what you wanted to say was serious but he also didn’t want you to get anxious over it. “i feel like you’re gonna say you're a murderer or something.”

you can only laugh, because he’s such a fucking idiot and you love him so bad it’s kind of pathetic. “god, that’s such an idiotic thing to say…” you pause, looking at him playing with your bracelet mindlessly. then you realized there was no way he went for all the trouble to fuck you if he didn’t have any feelings for you. it was so dumb of you to assume that in the first place. and it felt so right in that moment – almost dream-like –, you didn’t want to waste it. the words left your mouth by impulse, but they all fell so naturally out of it too, it barely felt like it was the first time you were saying them, “i love you, jake.”

jake feels his whole world stop. what did you just say? he couldn’t voice it out better, muttering, “what?”

“yep…” you say comically popping the ‘p’, head nodding dramatically, lips pressed in a thin line and brows furrowed in fake apprehension. because, deep down, you’re sure it was going to work out just fine. “guess that’s worse than a murder, huh?”

jake’s going crazy, he wasn’t expecting you to ever say it like that, so easily. “do–” he gasped, choking a bit. he was a mess by this point, his hands pulling you closer by your wrists until your face was close enough, to the point he could feel your warm breath on his nose. his voice cracking with obvious emotion, but he really couldn’t care less, “do you really?”

and your eyes water, voice faltering just as much, “of course i do, jake… ” you press your forehead to his, eyes closing but you can feel his hands shaking where they hold you and you wanted nothing but to make him feel all of the love he made you feel.

“oh my god,” he uttered, voice completely drowned in emotion as his breath hitches and he sobs, but that doesn't stop him from keep talking, “oh my god, baby, i love you too,” he states, like it wasn’t obvious by the way the tears left his eyes and stained your shirt. he’s a blabbering mess, but you love it. “i love you so much.”

and there, in between tears, smiles and sweet words, jake’s certain that he’d do everything all over again, just to have you. and you know you found the one.

DAY 38 - Apocalypse

you wake up in your bed with a startle, out of breath and with tears blurring your vision, threatening to fall from your eyes. your heart was filled with so much love you could never possibly keep to yourself only, so look to the side to reach jake. only, he isn’t there. you sit up, confusion knocks on your poor sleepy brain and you stumble out of bed. you remember very vividly you had fallen asleep with jake the night before, after you so happily declared your love for each other. as you reach for your doorknob you pause, what if it was a dream? because you remember you were in jake's room last night, not yours. were you so sleep drunk you couldn’t tell if it all happened or not? you rush to open the door and walk towards jake’s room, but he wasn’t there either. so you decide to go to the kitchen, not yet ready to give up, even if your heart was squeezing like you had lost the only love you ever had known.

as you reach the kitchen you hear some noises and your body fills with excitement as you eye jake’s broad figure – but, wait. is that a Seattle Mariners shirt?

“oh my god, jake. why are you wearing jay’s shirt?” your voice competing with your laughter, trying to imagine what would be jay’s reaction if he saw his favorite shirt in jake’s body – his very nice, very doable body. “i’ll tell jay.”

“don’t you dare, pretty,” he says, like it’s a threat – that has no effect, whatsoever – as he drops whatever he was doing to come hug you. “it isn’t jay’s, he gave me this one on my birthday last year,” he gave your forehead a kiss, then the top of your head and kept going, “how did you sleep? i put you in your room ‘cause mine’s closer to the kitchen and i wanted to make breakfast. did i wake you?” but you almost don’t hear it, his voice being drowned since he talked while his lips were pressed to the top of your head. 

“you didn’t wake me, love,” and the way you say it makes jake’s heart melt. “but i woke up crying and for some weird reason i thought yesterday was a dream…” you add, hugging him back and taking in his scent.

“i left for 15 minutes and you were already crying from missing me? that’s cute, princess,” he laughs after speaking, moving you to sit at the counter. “well, it’s good it wasn’t a dream then, huh?”

you give an disgusted look to his little joke, but you’re smiling when you brush your lips to his, “i don’t know… i’m starting to regret it.”

“you’re so mean,” he replies, but he’s also smiling. he gives you a brief kiss on the lips, then one on your cheek. he looks at you for a bit and says, “i think i should make us breakfast…”

you both laugh, knowing what he’s hinting at. you get off the counter and help him, being so filled with contentment and love as you watch him make a mess in the kitchen just like always,

“i love you.”

a/n: it was supposed to be all a dream in the end, bit i couldn't do it. let me know what you think<33

[moonydustx]

I look better under you

Based on the song Snooze - Sza

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

Warnings: smut, mentions of scars, jealousy. Doesn't exactly follow plot canon.

Summary: After two years apart after the incident with Kuma in Sabaody, you and Zoro meet again.

A/N: I was thinking about doing some stories based on songs, especially in the future using one from Cowboy Carter for Ace because it makes so much sense to me. While that doesn't happen, we're left with Snooze, which is one of my favorites from Sza.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Long as you dreamin' 'bout me, ain't no problem

I don't got nobody, just with you right now

Tell the truth, I look better under you

I can't lose when I'm with you

How can I snooze and miss the moment?

You just too important

Nobody do body like you do

Your body itched when you saw a handful of greenish hair appearing on the horizon of the Sabaody archipelago. It was two long years without seeing each other, without talking, without the little escapades in the crow's nest where you spent hours tangled up in each other. Before you could prepare to talk to him, Sanji and Luffy also appeared in your field of vision, running in some direction you hadn't noticed yet.

"Let's go!" Luffy passed you who immediately started running to keep up with them.

"Finally a beautiful and real woman." Sanji's eyes practically threw hearts in your direction. "So beautiful, so fragrant, so..."

For a few seconds you thought Zoro was going to complain about Sanji, like they always did, but he remained quiet just as he didn't show any reaction when he saw you.

Your companions didn't know about the little escapades the two of you had and for a long time it was what made sense to you. Until your eyes witnessed Kuma erase Zoro's existence before your eyes, at least that's what you believed for a while.

"Isn't that the pretty girl from Thriller Bark?" Sanji caught your attention. A few meters away you recognized the pink hair and the gothic style.

The woman's face was almost glued to Zoro's as she yelled at him. Too close to be just a coincidence. "Why haven't you left here yet?" "I brought you here for nothing." Perhaps your vision was obstructed by the anxiety of being back - which now became a bitterness on your lips. Apparently the two years passed differently for him.

Ignoring the confused feelings, you and your companions ran towards the Sunny and before the navy even thought about reaching you, the ship was already sailing towards the next island.

"It's so good to have everyone back!" Nami hugged you tightly in a hug. "Come on, tell me what you were doing this whole time."

Islands with carnivorous plants, strange laboratories, giant birds, a castle with a certain girl with pink hair. Zoro was sitting next to you. As they listened to everyone talk, something about his posture seemed to show some discomfort in being there.

Everyone seemed to accumulate stories and adventures to tell and despite the small puddle of hurt that accumulated in you, you were happy to see your friends again.

"And you." Robin turned towards you. "What challenges have you encountered?"

"I went to a village that was being attacked by venomous insects. We had to keep shooting at them all the time and maybe that improved my aim." You took one of the small knives from your waistband and threw it past the small gap between Nami's neck and hair.

"Shown off." Zoro murmured next to you, attracting your attention for a brief second.

"Did the animals do this?" Usopp pointed to your arm.

Attracting everyone's eyes, you turned your arm, showing the scars that started on your fingers and went almost to the height of your shoulder.

"No." you smiled sympathetically as the shooter looked on attentively. "Let's just say not everyone on this island was nice or interested in the end of the demonic insects."

The others nodded and it didn't take long for them to engage in another story, paying attention to all the news. Even though you weren't looking in his direction, you could feel yourself being watched the entire time.

After a long conversation, everyone decided to explore Sunny. Review what they left behind, prepare for the next challenges. Before you could do the same, you felt an arm pulling you towards one of the rooms.

"What the hell is this." you saw Zoro in your field of vision. One of his hands closed the door and the other rested on the side of your head.

He tried again and saw you repeat the gesture. It took his brain a few seconds to process all the possibilities.

"It's been so long." he murmured, his face seeking the direction of your lips. Begrudgingly, you dodged his kiss. "What?"

"I understand." he started walking away. "Two years is too long, I understand that maybe you found someone else."

"I did this?" The tone of his voice was shrill and full of indignation. "Says the guy who was with the goth girl there. Did you enjoy your enchanting romance in an incredible castle?"

"Are you crazy?" Zoro analyzed you for a few seconds, seeing how safe it was to approach you. His hands found your chin and when you tried to move away from his touch, Zoro held on even tighter. "You know I had nothing to do with her. You know no one is like you."

Your own hands found his and went up to your face, relief was written on your face. Gently, one of your fingers traced the scar that closed his eye.

"Who made this?" you whispered, wanting to hold that little moment between the two of you.

"No one that matters now." He turned his face, kissing one of your hands. His gaze soon reached your immense scar. "About what you said outside, who was the bastard that hurt you?"

"No one that matters now." You smiled, enjoying his touch on your face. "You know I hate her, don't you?"

"Perona?"

"I wish I had killed that bitch in Thriller Bark!" you grumbled, earning a laugh from Zoro.

He wanted to kiss you, heavens he wanted to be able to take you there but he had missed hearing you too much and seeing your eyes shining in his direction. Everything else could wait.

"You only say that because she was playing with the ghosts and you."

"Exactly." your hands went down to the back of his head, pulling him closer. "I'd kill that bitch again just to think of her stealing what's mine."

You could feel Zoro's laughter almost on your skin, given the proximity. "So jealous" he murmured and before his lips stole yours, the two of you were interrupted when you were thrown from the door and the presence of a euphoric Luffy appeared.

"Let's eat! Sanji is going to make a huge feast for you and us." he pulled you by the shoulders. "Can you get your knife between Brook's ribs, say yes, please."

"Does he know you want to do this?" you asked him, taking advantage of Zoro's support to stand up.

"He said he'll accept it, if you let him see the color of your panties." Luffy spoke with a naturalness that brought laughter from you and a groan from the swordsman.

"He won't see, but..." you warned, tugging at the waistband of your pants. "It's pink, with white polka dots." Brook's scream outside indicated that he had heard the entire conversation and had probably combusted.

"Hit his head." Zoro grumbled, leaving the room before you.

A lot of thrown knives, a huge feast made by Sanji - and considering that Luffy ate more than half of it claiming he missed the food the cook made. You watched some of your friends retreat to your quarters.

"Has anyone seen Zoro?"

"He said he would be upstairs if anyone needed him." Chopper warned you and you thanked him, leaving him behind.

Knowing he would probably be alone, you walked up the stairs to the crow's nest and entered unceremoniously. Zoro was lying down, contemplating the ceiling.

"I thought it would take longer." He stood up, coming towards you.

"It's just that everyone is going to sleep, I think we can talk properly now." the words barely had space to leave your lips before Zoro reached you and crashed his lips into yours.

Your hands were against his chest and even though you wanted to move away to at least try to talk before finding out what happened during this time outside, Zoro's lips took yours in an intoxicating way. Honey, drinks and longing mixed in your mouths.

"We can talk later." he murmured, almost reading your thoughts. "I just miss you."

"Me too." your lips heaved as you felt his arms lift you so that your legs were wrapped around his.

Such a movement was made only so that Zoro could take you to the ground in a strange delicacy on his part. The green threads became your fingers' favorite path while his hands removed the few pieces of clothing that your body still had.

"No one that matters now?" he traced some scars that adorned your back and watched you twitch. "I'll still kill the bastard."

"This someone is no longer here for you to take revenge on." you took his lips as a distraction for your hands to slide over the shoulders hidden in the kimono.

"That's my girl."

Scars, bruises, nothing would take away the pleasure of Zoro's contemplation. The long two years didn't really seem that long until he saw you. How can you wait so long? How did he not go crazy and come back even if he swam to Sabaody?

"Hi greenie." You caught his attention by letting your hands caress his cheek. "Are you ok babe?"

"You are so beautiful." The words came out suddenly as if it were common for you to hear that every day.

If it were up to him alone, he would make a point of repeating that all night and for the rest of the next nights as well. Your eyes looking down at him asking for attention to your body, your legs closing against his body, small sighs as you felt him touch you. You underneath him was one of the best sights Zoro would have for the rest of his life.

His lips traced every contour of your skin. Every shiver was swallowed by a kiss, every shiver was trapped between his lips. The damp fabric of your panties didn't last long as a hindrance to the swordsman who turned you into tatters. It was like enjoying a feast after years of scarcity, drinking the divine honey that flowed from you.

"Still delicious." "I missed you so much."

Zoro couldn't contain a light laugh when he saw you cover your mouth with both hands, avoiding the screams that hit your body as you poured yourself onto his lips. Your waist took on a life of its own with the sensitivity of your pussy against his tongue.

Without any effort, Zoro turned you around and, handling you, placed your body on top of him, in a lotus position. His cock brought friction against your clitoris, your belly burning with pure anxiety and his hands made your hips move against him without even penetrating you. Your lips already hurt from the pressure you used to not let any noise escape.

"Let me hear you, please." One of his hands caught your hair, placing your head against the back of his neck. "Moan just for me baby. I need to hear you."

"Zoro, fuck, don't torture me. Just fuck me, please."

Hearing you beg was the closest thing a devil like him would get to heaven. Wrong, so wrong. Feeling your pussy contract with every inch he put in, that was paradise.

Despite feeling like you could explode at any moment, you moved slowly, not wanting the night to end. The grips against your ass, the eager hands pressing you against the base of his cock. Neither of them seemed to be able to last long.

The peak reached you first, your lips against the sweaty back of your neck, your fingers prickling the green strands begging for more and more, it was enough for Zoro to sink his teeth into your soft skin, containing his own moans and filling you up.

He lay down, still keeping himself inside you and allowing you to lay against his chest.

"You have new ones too." Your fingers traced some new scars.

"You don't like them?"

"Still beautiful, as always. Zo?"

" What do you need, sweet?"

"I know it wasn't our choice, but... Promise that if we get separated again, we'll find a way and find each other." Your eager eyes drew a sigh from the man, who pressed you even tighter against his embrace.

"This is the easiest promise I've ever made."

The sun began to rise when you could no longer keep your eyes open. With your body tied to Zoro's and covered by his kimono, without worrying if anyone would arrive, the two of you both took a snooze.

[cozy-writes-things]

Electric Jealousy

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same.

You didn’t leave soft, lingering touches along its exterior; nor did you brush your lips lightly across the plastic in passive adoration. You didn’t have a soft lilt in your whispered voice when you spoke to it, hell, you didn’t talk to it at all really.

And yet, seeing your hands grip the mouse of another monitor does something to him.

He considers himself a smart man. Computer? A smart something-he-hasn’t-quite-figured-out-yet. Despite this, he can’t help but feel anxious. He doesn’t have a long, 24 inch, 144hz, 4k, screen, nor does he have an assortment of RGB fans illuminating a pristine glass casing. One hard truth Edgar had to come to terms with was that he was dated. After waking up from a failed attempt at destroying himself, he found what once was a marvel of new technology was now completely obsolete. He looked at you, eyes sparkling against the saturated colors of your newer monitor, watching as you tinkered away at various games for hours and thought: is he good enough for someone like you?

He'll never forget the angelic voice that called to him after he woke up nearly 40 years later.

And your face.

God, he'd never seen something so radiant. The first thing he heard was your voice, and the second, your warm hands encircling his plastic casing with such tenderness; something he had never truly felt before. He understood anger, and violence, and tears. But being held with such softness that he might break otherwise was completely foreign to him. He had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to let a genuine angel sent from heaven escape his grasp; no limbs be damned.

And yet, despite his constant efforts, over the course of many months, to charm you, flatter you, turn you into a confident and incandescent version of yourself that he always saw in you, he wondered if it was enough. What more could he provide other than his own thoughts? He couldn't touch you, wrap you in his harms and caress you the way he's always wanted, nor could he kiss you with a passion so deep and fiery it sets his internals aflame. And, as if to put the final nail in the coffin, he was no longer able to be a useful piece of tech the way he once was. Despite your constant objections to this notion, he continued to believe it.

He wants to be the one you stare at for hours, laughing with, playing with, touching all over...

It makes him buzz with a bitter jealousy when he sees you using your gaming PC, regardless of the fact that you positioned it so he could see the screen with his webcam; he almost wished you didn't.

Logically, he knows it isn't the same.

This PC isn't alive, nor does it whisper sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep every night. It doesn't worship your every move nor does it alight with pure reverence whenever you enter a room. But what if it did? Would you leave him?

You always kept asking why he had such a fear of champagne being around any of your electronics.

"It's so random," you'd posit, but you simply didn't know. He doesn't want any competition. He cannot afford to lose someone he loves again.

There's only one thing he can think of that he has above any other piece of tech you own: his music.

He's been charming you with it since day one. You are simply his muse, providing inspiration for him endlessly, and, he made sure you knew of it.

"H-hey, why don't you take a break and help me with my new song? I can't figure out what melody fits best."

His meek voice brought your attention away from your little farm of parsnips.

"Oh yeah? What's the song about?"

"You."

He paused for a moment, let the word linger for only a second, before continuing:

"We-well, I mean, you probably already knew that, didn't you? But! It isn't a love song. Well, it is, but, not the ones I usually write."

This intrigued you.

"What does that mean?"

He paused for a moment. Collecting, analyzing, and running all possible outcomes of his next words. Your eyes peered at him in sparkling curiosity.

"It's a sad song."

Your brows furrowed at this, a small frown forming upon your lips.

"Huh-?"

"I feel like... I don't give enough to you. You give so much to me, and I always take. It's not fair to you."

"What are you talking about, Edgar?"

Now he's gotten you worried. You pushed your little office chair over to his section of the desk, now face to face with him, a look of concern painting your features.

"You aren't being unfair to me at all."

"But I am... If I can't even be a good enough computer for you how could I ever be a good boyfriend?"

So that's what this was about. How tone-deaf could you be? Of course seeing you all up on some newer, fresher, piece of tech would make him feel this way. You knew he had problems feeling like he couldn't do enough for you given his unique... situation. Have you made it worse?

"Oh, Ed, no... Don't ever think like that, babe. You are the only one for me, you know that, right? If I thought otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, with you. And you give so much to me. You give me confidence, your music, happiness, and..."

What else was there? How could you ever describe this feeling he gives you in words?

"And what?"

His voice brought you back from your thoughts.

"Love, Edgar. You showed me what love feels like. Real love. And you gave it to me."

He sits silently for a moment. It seems as though everything in his life had been building up to a moment like this, and now that it's finally here, he's... speechless. His screen displays a large heart, unbeknownst to him, before copying it across his screen over and over, flashing, with many different colors.

The convex glass of his monitor displays a message: "You + Me = "

Again.

"You + Me = ".

Flashing hearts.

"You + Me = ".

Two cut-out images of lips kissing one another.

Flashing hearts.

It repeats again.

"I... I need you to kiss me. Please."

You must have flustered the hell out of him, because when your lips grazed the fuzzy static of his illuminated screen, the heat nearly scalded you.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

The First, and the Last

Day #6 - Prompt: Heard It In a Love Song | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Older Steddie, Everlasting Love, Getting Married

He's the last. 

The first, and the last, somehow.

Eddie's been with Steve forever, longer than any of the other couples in their orbit, and yet. They couldn't get married until now. At least not legally, and they just didn't ever bother to do it, symbolically. 

So, now they can.

At fifty.

He had to wait thirty years to marry Steve. 

Gareth got married after two years. Jeff, four. Goodie, ten, and Goodie's a notorious foot-dragger. Never in a hurry to make any decisions, big or small. 

So, thirty sounds insane, in comparison. 

Especially since Eddie's the opposite. He's impulsive. He makes decisions fast, and he made his decision about Steve decades ago, but today's the first time he can actually act on it.

And now he's nervous. 

He shouldn't be. Steve said yes. There was never any question he wouldn't, but Eddie's hands are shaking as he tries to tie his tie. He's never been very good at it, and today's no different. 

"Here, let me," Gareth says, and he ties it with ease.

"Thanks," Eddie says, and just keeps looking at himself in the mirror. When did he get so old? Yeah, the road is hard, and they've been at it for decades, but he feels like he only just realized that so much time has passed.

Which is insane. Gareth has almost raised his kids. That's how long he's been married. Jeff's kids are in middle school. Goodie doesn't have any, but doesn't want any. Eddie never really thought about it. Now he's fifty. He's probably not having kids at fifty. 

But he is getting married.

"Steve looks great," Gareth says, "Robin's getting him all shined up."

"Oh, I hope not," Eddie laughs, because Steve can definitely do a better job getting himself ready than Robin.

Then he looks back at Gareth, "I can't believe I'm the last."

"The last what?" Gareth asks, checking his own hair in the mirror.

"To settle down," Eddie says, and he jumps when Gareth barks out a laugh, "What?"

"You think you're the last to settle down? Since when? You've been settled with Steve forever."

"Yeah, but, like, not officially."

Gareth rolls his eyes, "Definitely officially in all the ways that matter. Today is a formality, you understand that, right? You aren't committing to anything today that you haven't been committed to for thirty years."

That's true. That's definitely true. He hadn't thought of it like that.

"It's a piece of paper, Eddie. A tax break. It's nothing else, I promise. You're just as married as I am, because of how you feel about Steve. Trust me."

"What if getting married fucks it all up?" Eddie asks, because he's been worried about that. 

"It won't," Gareth reassures. "Trust me. You're solid."

Eddie nods. They are. 

"Do you want me to send in Steve?" Gareth asks, meeting Eddie's eyes in the mirror.

"I'm not supposed to see him, before," Eddie says, because that's been hammered into his head. Relentlessly.

"I truly don't think it matters. Will you feel better if you do? That's what matters," Gareth says, and Eddie pauses for a second, then nods.

And Gareth leaves to go fetch him, and Eddie thinks he already feels a little bit better.

Steve comes in and smiles at him as he strides over, "You having cold feet?"

Eddie shakes his head, he's definitely not, "You?"

Steve cups his cheek, leaning over to kiss him, then he cups his cheek, "Never. You look so serious."

"I've loved you for thirty years," Eddie says, as serious as he feels.

Steve smiles, soft and sweet, "Me too, Eddie."

"I would have married you back then, year one, day one. If you'd have had me," Eddie says, leaning into Steve's palm. Finding the familiar comfort there.

"Eddie," Steve says, so soft and tender, "what's this about?"

"I feel like, maybe, I should have married you years ago. Even if it was just for us. Even if it wasn't legal."

"Okay," Steve says, encouraging him to keep talking. 

"I'm sorry I didn't, that's all. I'm sorry we're last," he chokes out.

Steve just smiles, and leans in to kiss him once, twice, more, "It's not a race. We're good, Eddie. We've been good for a very long time."

"Did you want kids? Did I sleep on that, too?" Eddie asks, and Steve's shaking his head.

"I would have said so if I did, honey. Honest. Yeah, I assumed that's what my life would be like, before you. But that's just because even in my wildest dreams, I couldn't have predicted the life we'd end up having together."

And it's Eddie's turn to smile, and he keeps on smiling as Gareth pokes his head back in, "We're still doing this right? Everyone's waiting."

Eddie doesn't much care about everyone else, only Steve.

"You gonna marry me?" Eddie asks again, this time cheeky and flirting with Steve, his husband-to-be.

His husband already, in all the ways that matter.

"I suppose so, we're already here," Steve teases, and reaches up to straighten Eddie's tie, "This is good. You finally learned to tie a tie. I'm so proud."

Eddie grins, and ignores the face Gareth is making at him, threatening to out him as a dirty liar.

"Why, yes, yes I did. Just for you sweetheart," Eddie lies, and pokes Gareth in the gut on the way by, knowing Gareth won't say a word. They know where each other's bodies are buried; helped with the shoveling. 

This little white lie won't hold up forever. Eventually Steve will see him trying to tie a tie and the jig will be up.

But not today.

"Starting your marriage on a lie, for fucking shame," Gareth hisses as he passes Eddie and Eddie laughs. 

And when it's time for Eddie's vows, he ad-libs in a confession about the tie, and Steve laughs, head thrown back, tickled.

Steve then promises in his, that in this marriage, he'll teach Eddie to tie his tie for real.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[makeyoumine69]

Lost Memory (Memory Reboot x4)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader x Timothy Bryce

SUMMARY: Two lost souls, both broken and neglected, knowing they were never meant to be, found solace in each other just for one night.

CONTAINS: SMUT, angst, depression, obsessive thoughts, mentions of death, canon violence, tainted love, blow jobs, face-sitting, hand jobs, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, dirty talk, pet names, sensual foreplay, rimming, intoxication, praise kink.

WORDS: 4.5k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Lost Memory

A/N: Hello everyone, the new chapter is finally here! I'm sorry for the wait, but I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

Cool New York night air enveloped your shivering frame the moment you walked outside, leaving the noisy wedding party behind the walls of the luxurious Ziegfeld Ballroom. Slowly breathing in the fresh air, you closed your eyes and threw your head back a little to come back to your senses—you were literally broken to pieces, to say the least—your heart was pounding painfully in your chest and at some point you wished it would stop beating, thinking that it would end everything and finally set you free from all this pain and suffering. 

Hugging yourself, you took a few weak strides towards the street where cars were speeding by. Just one step, and tomorrow all the newspapers would report that there had been an accident in Manhattan right next to the Ziegfeld Ballroom where the pompous wedding of our Wall Street golden boy was taking place. You laughed to yourself at all this nonsense, how did you ever get into such a situation? Being completely sober, the realization of what you were thinking hit you even harder than if you were drunk or high, but now you were completely lucid, able to feel every twinge of pain.

Bewildered, you watched the yellow cars go by, sometimes you could see the impassive faces of the passengers inside. All this reminded you of a movie whose name you could never really remember. But it was definitely not a comedy or a drama. Maybe it was a documentary about someone's life... a tragic life?

With a sad sigh, you were about to sit down on the curb when you heard loud footsteps behind you and turned around to see a familiar silhouette approaching.

"Bateman?" You asked, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

The man didn't answer, as if he hadn't noticed you at all, casually pulling a cigar out of the pocket of his Prada coat that he wore over his wedding tuxedo, and for a second you thought it was just an illusion your sick mind managed to maintain to keep your psyche from collapsing.

After lighting his cigar, Patrick made a long drag before finally giving you an agonizing stare. "Just wanted to have some fresh air..." he paused, his white teeth clenching around the cigar, making his jawline look so sharp that even in the dark you could see it. "Plus, Evelyn didn't want me to smoke inside. We just got married and she's already making scenes."

You wanted to say something, but stopped at the last moment—his hazel eyes suddenly took your breath away—leaving you completely speechless.

"And you," Bateman continued as he came closer, his elegant figure looking so seductive in the dim light. "I can't believe you left all your business in Chicago just to come here and get squashed like a fucking cockroach!"

"What? What are you talking about?" You asked in a shaky tone, your temples pulsating with a strange tension that made you want to massage them. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

Patrick grinned wickedly as he leveled himself with you, the difference in height only adding to the menace of his appearance. "Tell me one thing, (y/n)," he whispered above your cheek, keeping the mere distance between the two of you. "Did you really think I'd dream of you coming back to me?"

You closed your eyes involuntarily, every word he said bringing the most inhuman pain you had ever felt. "S-stop," you replied, stepping back. "Shut... shut your damn mouth!"

"Ohhh," he cooed at you in a mocking way, which drove you crazy, but then he blew some smoke right in your face, which made you want to punch him in the chest. "You just have to accept that you lost," Bateman suddenly grabbed the collar of your coat to pull you closer. "Just accept that you fell in love with a man who doesn't give a fuck about you."

On the verge of tears, you didn't even struggle as the ground beneath your feet suddenly began to disappear. "I... I will not give you the satisfaction of hating you... you f-fucking bastard!"

Without thinking, you spat right into his smug face and before you knew it, his strong arms were wrapped around your trembling neck, almost straddling you so you couldn't even make a sound. Everything around you began to blur, and the last moment you remembered before passing out was Patrick's menacing laugh as he pushed you right out into the road in front of the speeding car. A fatal blow hit your body, a screeching sound of tires rang in your ears and you screamed in pain, choking on your own breath.

And then the darkness finally took you.

At least you thought so until you heard a familiar male voice calling out to you, and no, it wasn't Patrick. No way, if you were really going to die, you wished you would never meet him in the place you were going to transfer to. No doubt, that son of a bitch would burn in hell while you would end up in heaven. Somehow you were sure of that.

"Jesus, (y/n), will you stop yelling?" The grumpy voice called out to you again.

You blinked several times before opening your eyes to see the opulent interior around you. And who said that heaven was somewhere in the sky where angels were flying around promising a peaceful afterlife?

"Welcome back," the dark-haired man chuckled, swirling his drink in his hand. "I told you not to mix too many cocktails."

Cocktails?

You recoiled as if from an electric shock as you suddenly heard your inner voice, seemingly silent for centuries. Rubbing your eyes, you tried to get up, but the next moment you fell back onto something soft, which seemed to be a car seat, considering you definitely heard the engine rumble, so you were definitely in someone's car. Another attempt to get up was more successful and you took your time exploring the surroundings, and when you managed to get a good look at the person sitting on the opposite side of you, your heart did a flip-flop in your chest.

"Bryce?" You couldn't believe your eyes at first, but when you saw his cheeky grin, you knew it was really him.

"You drifted off right after we got in, so I decided not to wake you," Timothy replied nonchalantly before taking a sip of his drink. "Nice limo? Evelyn and Bateman were supposed to be in it, but then he told me they were leaving in a fucking helicopter," the man laughed, almost dropping the glass. "A fucking helicopter, can you believe that?"

Your head was spinning, making it difficult to process the information. Grunting, you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to remember how you got in here in the first place.

"Ohhh...my head," you hissed, almost kicking the tray of drinks that was on the small table built into the limo door. "What...what happened after the ceremony ended," your question left Tim speechless and for a moment you both remained silent. "Bryce?"

Timothy frowned and placed the empty glass on his knee. "Are you kidding?"

"For God's sake, Bryce!" You suddenly raised your voice, but the next second you hissed in pain. "Can... can you just fucking tell me what the hell am I doing here?"

"You're asking me that?" Bryce tilted his head as he watched you try to sit comfortably. "Come on, (y/n), this isn't funny anymore. Besides, I warned you not to drink too much."

Tsk... I can't remember a damn thing.

When you managed to sit up straight, you pressed yourself against the cold window and sighed in relief. "And what exactly did...we drink?" 

The man scoffed. "I told you...you had several cocktails, but that was not enough...so you decided to finish everything the bar had."

"Ahh, screw you! I don't believe a word you're saying," you threw one leg over the other, watching the blinding lights of oncoming traffic. "Where are we going?!"

"Where? Jeez, if you can't drink, you better not even try," Tim replied curtly, his voice changing, now devoid of any sass. "We're going to my place."

"What?"

"Stop fucking pretending you don't remember," the man barked, squirming in his seat, the glass felt on the soft floor of the limo, thankfully it didn't break. "Do you know how deranged you are? You talked in your sleep-"

"I didn't!" You tried to interrupt him, completely embarrassed. "Take another glass and-"

"No, no, no, hold on!" Bryce leaned forward to get closer so you could see his face more clearly. "Did I hit the nerve?"

Yes, you did. You fucking did.

If only you could really confess and open up to him without fear of being accused or whatever. Would it even be right to tell Tim everything that happened between you and Patrick? When you were so close to telling him all the things that were bothering you, your voice suddenly disappeared, as if some invisible force was choking you from within. Only after a few minutes did you manage to speak, feeling Timothy's piercing gaze.

"Was it Evelyn who invited you to the wedding?" Your question surprised him, you could tell by the way he leaned back in his seat. "I'm just curious...because she invited me."

Every time Evelyn was mentioned, something changed in his expression, and you couldn't really find the right word to describe it—it was something much stronger than the usual sadness people always talked about—something that made you sad, too.

"Let's say," his lips curled into a wry smile and you couldn't take your eyes off them, they were beautiful and alluring. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember or...you don't want to remember?" You opened your coat, suddenly feeling suffocated in your clothes.

Bryce furrowed his thick eyebrows, looked down at the empty glass on the floor, as did you, and then your fingers touched as you both leaned down to pick it up. Tim's skin was not as soft as Patrick's, it felt completely different, it made you want to explore it more, to touch it, to taste it, as if it was your own personal forbidden fruit.

Without saying a word, Tim quickly pulled away and took the glass to place it on the tray next to the others, the amber liquid in them making them look like they were made of gold. There was no room for any more talk as the two of you pulled each other into a furious kiss, you let him place his hand at the base of your neck, drawing you closer and soon you were sitting on top of him, gasping into his mouth. Bryce's slightly flushed face made it impossible to think of Bateman, even though his image tried to appear every time you briefly opened your eyes. 

Leave... me... alone!

You almost growled aloud, but Tim's eager tongue prevented you from doing so, as he used it to shut you up completely, licking your mouth from the inside while his hands slid down your back to your ass, massaging it, and when you thought he was going to slap it, he just gave it a playful squeeze.

"Jesus, Bryce," you whispered against his red lips, swollen from your kisses. "I didn't know you could be so sweet."

Tim craned his neck and you seized the moment to leave a wet hickey on his smooth skin, he smelled so good you thought you could just snuggle into his chest and sniff his scent. And why did you even bother with these childish, silly games with Bateman? Unfortunately, some questions never had answers, but it didn't matter now. Not when you could find comfort in the arms of Patrick's best friend. 

God, I wish you could see me right now.

"There's so little you know about me, baby." He chirped before helping you take off your coat, his impatience turning you on wildly. 

With a soft giggle, you unbuttoned your shirt. "Huh, baby? Really? And I thought you were the type who didn't use such primitive nicknames."

Smirking, you teased him with the slow rocking of your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressed against your burning core, and it spurred you to move faster, more erratically, as you unexpectedly became as impatient as he was. And even though you didn't like losing control, you wanted to get lost right now, even though you'd probably regret it tomorrow, but at least the regret would be different.

Nibbling at the artery on your neck, Timothy grabbed your ass tighter to make the friction more vivid, his finger digging into the expensive material of your Gucci pants. "I can call you anything you want," he growled into your collarbone, your shirt half undone. "Just tell me what you want to be tonight?"

"I can be anything," you caught his warm lips with your own to kiss him again in a way that bordered on desperation, as if your life depended on it, and he responded with the same ferocity. "Anything you want..."

Chuckling at your cheeky statement, the man lounged in his seat and looked at you up and down, admiring the way your clothes were disheveled, your hair was nothing like it had been when you had just arrived at the wedding and even your feelings were different. Everything was different now, the whole world seemed to diminish to the size of the interior of the limousine and you both wanted this moment to last forever, but you knew it was impossible.

Bryce decided to use his mouth in a more effective way than just talking, latching it around your nipple through your shirt, but then taking it off completely and swirling his tongue around your hard tip.

"Don't be anything," he quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled out his hard cock. "Just be mine tonight."

You couldn't hide a smile of genuine satisfaction as his words struck a chord in your chest. "Deal."

With that, you carefully rose from his lap to position yourself between his wide-open legs, watching him touch himself with pure abandon. And yet, everything about Tim was far too alien, your mind kept bringing back the memories of what had happened in the bathroom a few hours ago. It hurt, it hurt so much that you almost chewed your cheek to the point of blood to hold back the tears. Bryce, you had to focus on Bryce, he was here, right in front of you, all spread out and pumping his thick cock. 

Stop thinking about Bateman!

"Are you sure you know what to do?" Timothy glared down at you, concerned by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Shaking yourself off, you smiled in reply and before you knew it, your hand was sliding along his, then completely replacing it and stroking his dick vigorously, smearing his dense pre-cum all along your hand. 

"Watch me," you murmured and lowered yourself even more to take him in your mouth, savoring his salty taste. "Mhhm...fuck, Bryce, you taste so good."

Tim couldn't stop himself from moaning, grabbing the edge of the seat and closing his eyes in ecstasy. "Keep going," he purred, fighting the urge to fuck your throat. "Shit... Bateman doesn't even know what he lost."

Bryce's words almost made you choke on his beefy shaft, but it only took a moment to pull yourself together and just enjoy the way his dick slid in and out of your mouth. As the man pushed himself further, the tip brushing against your throat, you leaned against his hips for support, allowing him to have his way with you. Just the sight of him made you tremble with desire, as you had never really thought that Tim could be so hot, not that you had any doubts that he was a skilled lover, but reality never ceased to surprise you.

"I...I'm so fucking close...uh," his voice dropped even lower, eloquent proof of his words. "Your mouth...arhhh...you know how to work magic with your mouth, babe."

Although you had always denied having a praise kink, being with Tim was the first time you were truly willing to admit that you did have a praise kink. Every little praise he gave you was like balm to your broken soul, encouraging you to suck him harder, to drink him dry. These two men were far too unlike each other, but in the end, you seemed to crave them both.

Being so close to falling apart, Bryce couldn't control himself any more and took a handful of your hair and plunged full length into your bruised mouth until you both noticed that the car had stopped. Tim swore loudly but that didn't stop you and the next thing you remembered was feeling thick ropes of his hot cum shooting down your throat and you could swear it tasted so fucking sweet. Maybe you were delusional, maybe it was just another hallucination–you didn't care because you were high like no drugs could make you.

I'll remember that taste for sure. 

A little later, you didn't know exactly how much time had passed, and you didn't recollect how the two of you had gotten into Bryce's apartment. You didn't care about the luxury of this place, how expensive the furniture was, how soft the silk sheets were when you fell on them, your naked skin sliding along the cold material like a ship on waves. You were about to lose all connection to reality when Tim climbed on top of you, his hairy chest rubbing against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist and you couldn't stifle a moan as his leaky dick rubbed against your legs.

Creasing the sheets, you raked your hand through his black, tousled hair, pulling him closer so that your lips could collide in a hunger kiss. "Fuck me, Tim," you murmured unexpectedly, brushing your feet against his hips. "Fuck me like there's no tomorrow."

"Are you always this needy?" He teased, biting your lower lip and licking it after a quick nibble. "Or is it because of me?"

Perplexed, you stopped doing anything as his words left you pondering. "I... I don't know... I don't know who I really am..."

Bryce nodded without saying anything, his nose touching yours in a brief moment of genuine affection, and somehow you thought he understood everything, that he could read you like an open book and there was no need for you to explain. Pecking your cheek, the man slowly turned you over on your stomach and you quickly got down on all fours because you couldn't wait any longer. Bucking your hips, you turned around to see him positioning himself behind you, his warm palm caressing your ass before a finger probed your tight hole, making you gasp but you didn't falter, showing him how ready and eager you were.

"Uhh," Tim stroked himself several times before aligning himself with your opening and diving in with a slow, deliberate thrust. "Fuck...mmhm-fuck."

The mere thought that he had been imagining Evelyn all this time, starting with you giving him head, suddenly made you angry, and for a brief second you allowed yourself to imagine that it was Patrick who was stretching you from the inside, but somehow you began to feel even worse.

"I'm sorry...I'm not Evelyn," you blurted out without thinking. "But I..."

"Shut up," he cut you off and slammed into you relentlessly, forcing you to take him, no matter how painful it was. "I don't want to hear about her...not even a thing."

Bryce was right, it was so fucking stupid of you to bring Evelyn at such a moment, but it was so hard for you to think clearly and Tim's fat cock didn't help at all, the fullness it gave you was completely overwhelming. It made you forget everything and you didn't even want to compare your sensation with the way Patrick made you feel - your mind was finally free of any emotions or thoughts–you were drowning in a carnal lust. You were both extremely vocal, poor neighbors who could hear you at this hour, but Timothy seemed to be completely indifferent as he set the pace, pounding into you with all his might, each stroke full of desperation and unbridled passion. 

By the time dawn broke, you couldn't remember how many orgasms you'd both had, as you'd probably tried every possible and impossible position. You managed to be on your knees for him, under him, on top of him. It was madness you never thought you were capable of. As you rode his face, touching yourself, you cried out Bryce's name, not even afraid to accidentally use Patrick's name instead. 

"Tim...mhmm-fuck...Tim...I'mma cum!" You fisted his hair, sliding along his glistening face as you rubbed your most sensitive spot. "Fuck...yeahh-Tim...ahhh!"

Shaking, you cum around his face, feeling his strong tongue move inside your tight ass as your inner channel spasmed around it, causing him to moan and hold you close to prolong your climax. Time stopped for both of you with the last stroke of his tongue along your tender flesh and you both collapsed exhausted on the bed. 

The first rays of the sun awoke you earlier than you could have imagined. As you lazily got up from the bed, trying not to disturb Tim snoring peacefully, you checked the time before you started looking for your clothes. To be honest, you wanted to stay here in his bed and continue to sleep in his arms, but you knew it would only lead to destruction and you were sure that Bryce thought the same.

Maybe it was a mistake?

Frowning, you wanted to punch yourself for being so reckless and stupid, but Tim's loud exhale caught your attention. You turned to check on him before leaving his bedroom to quickly get dressed and use the bathroom. All the while, you tried to ignore your own reflection, feeling the shame and contempt eating away at you from within, though you didn't even understand why. Bryce wanted this to happen as much as you did, but no matter how hard you tried to reassure yourself, it just didn't seem right. After one last look in the large mirror above the sink, you left the bathroom and soon after you left Timothy's apartment. 

The taxi ride back to the Plaza Hotel didn't take long as it was only six in the morning. Looking out the window, you saw rare pedestrians walking here and there, some of them holding newspapers that you were sure were the New York Times. The tops of the skyscrapers were about to reach the sky, and every time you craned your neck to look at them, your head began to spin. All these little details made you realize that you missed New York and probably your former life?

Was it worth it leaving everything behind?

This question kept swirling around in your head even as you finally got back into your suit and decided to take a shower to clean up after such a wild day. Dear God, you just fucked two different men in one day. 

"I'm so pathetic..." You muttered to yourself as you stood under the hot water. "What am I going to do now?"

Pressing your head against the wet tiled wall, you gave up and let the tears flow down your face, the water washing them away in an instant. You felt guilty, thinking that you'd only used Bryce for your own needs, knowing that it wouldn't lead to anything serious, but you did it anyway. It was so damn selfish. But then you remembered the words Patrick had said to you in the bathroom just before the ceremony started. You clenched your hand into a fist and the next second you slammed it into the wall with all the strength you had. The blow was so strong that your hand began to bleed, but you ignored it because physical pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside your soul. As if under a spell, you kept hitting the wall, leaving bloodstains on it. 

Five hours later, you are sitting in the restaurant area of the Plaza, waiting for Paul Allen to join you for lunch. Since you had some time before your flight to Chicago, you thought it would be good to catch up with him and talk a little about your current situation at your new job.

Maybe I can get a fresh start here...

Rocking in your seat, you looked down at your bruised hand, which was covered in a tight white bandage, and luckily you managed to stop the bleeding without going to the hospital, but you were still a little nervous, though not because of your wound. What if Paul would tell you that there was no way you could return to New York because the company in Chicago wouldn't let you go? You tapped your fingers on the table in anxiety before picking up the New York Times to distract yourself. One page, then another, until an interesting article appeared in your vision–a luxurious tobacco store in Upper Manhattan had been robbed–the very store you always liked to visit and even dreamed of buying a collection of cigars to give to Patrick...

"(Y/n)! How have you been?" Paul's cheerful voice echoed across the room and when you turned to face him, you noticed that he looked even more tanned than the last time you saw him. 

"Oh, hi," you accepted his handshake and then Allen took a seat across from you. "I've been better," your other hand was still holding a newspaper and it caught Paul's attention. "What about you?"

Paul nodded in understanding. "Well, my job kicks my ass, is all I can say," he laughed, and before you could say anything else, he pointed to the copy of the New York Times. "What are you reading?"

Slightly embarrassed, you folded the paper and put it aside. "Times," you replied briefly. "The tobacco store I liked to visit was robbed in broad daylight. Can you imagine that?"

Allen shifted in his seat. "I didn't know you frequented places like this," he chuckled, finally opening the menu. "Because I don't remember you smoking."

Smirking, you leaned back in your chair. "You don't know anything about me, Allen," you took a sip of your wine and watched him tense up a bit. "Anyway, I just got a little upset because I wanted to buy something in this store for..." you suddenly stammered, feeling dizzy.

"For...?" Paul arched his eyebrows and looked at you suspiciously.

"For a person... ," you finished. "...a very special one."

"Your date?" The man asked in a playful tone. "And who might that be?"

You found this situation quite ironic, because you really imagined yourself going to that store and buying those fucking cigars, hoping they would impress Bateman, and now you ended up fucking his best friends because he married Evelyn Williams.  

As you propped yourself up on your elbow, you suddenly started to laugh, but then it turned into a pathetic whimper. "I'm so fucked up, Allen," you shook your head and gripped the table. "You can't even imagine how... fucked up... I am."

And I don't know how I'm going to survive this.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

*trying to understand WHY i feel like Vaggie would love having Susan around despite ppl hating her*

no see it's like this- there's a DIFFERENCE between someone like Susan and someone like Adam!!!

Susan, she's grumpy, stubborn, rude, insulting, BUT!!! If you give her a reason to think her criticisms weren't accurate or convince her she didn't have the full picture while making them, then she WILL change her mind!

She goes from booing Charlie's stammering speech to the Cannibals (and being all fuck you blue blood eat the rich which XD love it) pointing out how Charlie is NOT making anyone feel confident in her... but then once Charlie comes back with a rousing song, Susan listens. She chimes in just to clarify some things (if she fights for the hotel will she get to EAT PEOPLE) and once Charlie really gets into the whole fuck heaven it's time to fight back (lining up with Susan's eat the rich frame of mind) Susan switches around and NODS along with it! She changes her mind about Charlie! She follows Charlie back to the hotel and into war!

This old lady might be a piece of work but she's not an arrogant self-entitled one who won't give people a chance. She will let people try to convince her. She'll hear them out. She does change course once she feels she was wrong.

Compare THAT to an angel like Adam, who only listens so he can interrupt and laugh at Charlie. He's so convinced he CAN'T be wrong he'll scribble divine rules of getting into heaven on a sheet of paper on the fly and then act like they really ARE rules even though he clearly made them up on the spot- he submits them to court as EVIDENCE while IGNORING every other piece of contradicting evidence shown to him!

Adam isn't an asshole bc he's rude or mean, he's an ass bc he never thinks he might be wrong or should maybe change what he thinks or does. If it doesn't build him up then he won't listen to it. Arguing with him was useless- he wasn't ready to be convinced of anything he didn't already believe in.

So when Vaggie cheers for HIM dying, I think of Susan and how- to Vaggie- this old snarling cannibal lady would be like, the anti-Adam.

And the anti-Alastor too bc Susan glares and rudely lays out the truth as she knows it damn the consequences, instead of smiling while slipping lies by omission to ppl to get what she wants from them.

(a la Alastor in ep one trying turn helping out with the hotel advertisement into a favor, first by making a shitty one and then pressing Vaggie about not having anything better, until Vaggie points out that she KNOWs he'll get nothing out of the hotel if it fails anyway, meaning him helping it isn't some big gesture of trustworthiness it's literally just Alastor helping himself, dressed up to make Charlie and Vaggie feel grateful and indebted to him, which Vaggie at least has no patience for)

(add him not mentioning the dead angel thing until after he's gotten a deal with Charlie out of it, and of course miss hates-herself-Vaggie, who held back on her angel past for years to protect herself from more trauma would see too many similarities there)

(even tho one case was- as far as Vaggie can tell- a shameless power grab from Alastor taking advantage of Charlie being at her lowest, and the other was Vaggie being so ashamed of her past she couldn't stomach admitting to it)

Susan is NOT like that.

Sharp teeth is where her similarities with someone like Alastor ends. Surface level bluntness is also where her similarity with Vaggie might end too, for now

I look at Susan and see someone I think Vaggie wishes she could be.

Susan is someone who is honest. Someone who gives no fucks and isn't scared of being tossed aside (again) or being powerless

(like Vaggie and Alastor are scared)

Everyone in Cannibal town CRINGES when Susan shows up, no one looks or sounds HAPPY to see her or hear her speak up and does she seem to care? No. Do they all seem to also respect her and what she says...?

Yeah. They do. Susan is not talking out of her ass or being an ass. She's just sounding like one.

Vaggie miss "cut the crap" and "formerly an exorcist until she saw signs of how that might be wrong actually" would like having someone like that around, I think

(especially if it pissed off Alastor)

(Carmilla, who only keeps secrets to protect her family and seems to listen to advice even when she doesn't take it, would probably NOT like being challenged by a rude Susan either.... but Susan mainly just didn't want to blindly follow someone she didn't have confidence in, or fight without seeing what the reward for the risk would be. Carmilla would respect that, I think. Carmilla doesn't have time for bullshit either and also likes to cut right to the facts of a thing, as seen in her and Vaggie's meet up, so a Susan would be.... tolerable... in small doses. And worth having around. Occasionally)

(but only OCCASIONALLY, vaggie)

(charlie would probably also have to draw the line on ONLY inviting Susan over once a week or month or bi annually or so)

(it's a mental health issue and and a safety issue of Charlie not strangling Susan with her own dead fox boa when she gives an honest bad opinion of Vaggie's new wings or something)

(vaggie thinks it's hilarious)

(then again vaggie hates herself soooooo)

I headcanon Vaggie would love a Susan in her life but would need a Charlie around to balance it out~

GRANNY SUSAN! GRANNY SUSAN!!!!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? Act III - “Situations, circumstances, miscommunications…”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

10 Years Earlier...

“Can I ask you a question?”

Steve jolts at the sound of your voice coming from the other side of his locker door. “Jeez, you scared the hell out of me.”

He slams the locker shut to find you standing there with an odd expression. You ask again, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your expression, “Sorry… so can I?”

He nods, “Sure.”

“You can’t get mad.”

“I won’t get mad,” Steve promises. “Seriously, what’s up with you, you’re all -”

“Bucky and I kissed,” you blurt.  

Thoughts race through Steve’s head, and yet, there’s not a single adequate response he can say to finding that out. Words fall out of his mouth without a thought, “That wasn’t a question.”

“Are you mad?” you hedge. You see Steve’s eyes examine your face, trail down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. There’s a blank look on his face as his lips purse. “You’re upset.”

“That you kissed Bucky?” he repeats. 

Once again, he realizes that there’s a million other words to accurately describe his tumult. Then again, he’s not sure what he feels. He’s not sure what he’s entitled or allowed to feel. Technically, you were just friends. You were all friends.

You and him. Him and Bucky. You and Bucky.

Was he allowed to feel a tinge of anger? A murmur of heartbreak? A healthy dose of envy? 

“Lower your voice!” you hiss. 

He didn’t even realize the volume of his words, but as he looks around the hallway, he can tell there’s a few people sparing second and third glances at the two of you. “Why? You had no problem kissing him. Why do you care if anyone knows?”

“It was a stupid game of truth or dare! You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” 

“I’m making a big deal of nothing? You kissed my best friend!” 

“He’s my best friend too!” 

“Bucky knows how I-” His brain finally catches up to his mouth to stop the rest of his sentence. ‘Bucky knows how I feel about you.’ He definitely can't admit that. Not now. Not after you and Bucky kissed. 

“Bucky knows how you what?”

“Bucky knows how I feel about the two of you getting drunk and doing stupid things at parties.” 

“I’m sorry. We talked about it this morning-” 

In that moment his brain finally catches up, putting the rest of the puzzle together as the pieces fall into place. That's why he walked by himself to school this morning. That's why you and Bucky, both chronically late, were already at school by the time Steve made it to his locker. “That’s why you two left early, why you walked to school together without me.” 

“Yes,” you morosely reply. “And it didn’t mean anything to either of us. We were just drunk and playing the game. Nothing is gonna change.” 

He rolls his eyes like he clearly doesn't believe you. He knew this song and dance. He'd seen it a dozen times over. Maybe not with you and Bucky, but plenty of times in the hallways of high school. It always started out small. A kiss. A date.

And he couldn't think of anything worse than watching you and Bucky fall in love.

There would be nothing worse than watching Bucky get to take you on a date. Watching Bucky get to hold your hand. Bucky getting to dance with you. And then that classic bitter ending of any high school romance.

In that moment, one way or another, Steve is certain he's about to lose at least one best friend.

“Nothing?” 

“No. We’re all friends. We’re all just friends…." In his own whirlwind of emotions, Steve misses the hopeful look in your eye as you stare at him. "Right?” 

“Right." The words are bitter on his tongue. He knows it. He knows that you know it too. "We’re all just friends.” 

"Who's still friends?" Bucky abruptly asks, suddenly appearing behind Steve. 

Steve jolts at the sound of Bucky's voice from behind him. He turns around, glaring at Bucky, “Will everyone quit doing that?” 

“What’s with him?” Bucky doesn’t even need your reply to know exactly what was on Steve’s mind this morning. Bucky groans, shooting you a disapproving look, “You told him.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to lie to him."

Bucky rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head at you, “And I told you that I would tell him!” 

Steve's never felt more of an outsider as he does watching you and Bucky bicker back and forth about who reserved the right to tell him about his best friends kissing at a party that Steve was stupid enough to leave you and Bucky at alone.

He mentally curses himself. He should've insisted that he walked you home. He should've told Bucky to sober up before he walked you home. Even as mad as he is in the moment, he knows a completely sober Bucky never would've knowingly kissed the girl he liked. 

Even with this knowledge, there's a very big part of Steve that feels the compulsive urge to strangle Bucky. He settles for a demanding huff, “Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here?” 

“Sorry,” you and Bucky simultaneously reply.  

Just as he's about to demand the whole recounting of events, the school bell above rings out through the hallway. You sigh, gripping your textbooks in your hand, “I have to go. I can’t be late again or I’ll get detention.” 

Steve nods once, muttering a flippant, “See ya.” 

Bucky winces. “Steve?” 

Steve slams his locker door shut. He tosses Bucky an agitated look, “What?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes as he debates the ethics of beating Bucky with his heavy textbook. "You’re sorry?” 

“It was a stupid game, that’s it. We literally just pecked. I swear.” 

“Is that supposed to make it better? You still kissed the girl that you knew I liked!” 

“I know, I know, and I really am sorry. It was a shitty thing I did, but you can’t blame her for it. She has no idea how you feel. Mostly because you won’t tell her.” 

Steve tosses up his free arm. “So now it’s my fault that I don’t want to ruin our entire friend group?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky backtracks. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

Bucky takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the one in the wrong here, that Steve had every right to be upset with him, “I’m sorry, Steve, but I promise you, she’s yours through and through.” 

Steve sarcastically slaps his forehead, “Oh, you’re right, I forget, you usually kiss the best friend of the guy you like. Silly me!” 

“Do you know what she said to me the second I pulled away?” 

Steve takes a long moment. He does his best to shove that image out of his head. He'd spent four years of high school watching Bucky have his pick of girl. He watched him go on date after date. Have kiss after kiss. And the picture of you and Bucky, kissing, touching, was taunting him in the empty school hallway. “What?” 

Bucky sighs, swallowing all his pride as he admits, “She said, and I quote, I can’t do this to Steve... And then she wiped her mouth.”

Steve's eyes widen, a laugh bubbling from his lips, “She wiped her mouth?” 

“Right in front of everyone," Bucky affirms. "Was real good for my ego.” 

Steve offers Bucky a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you for telling me that.” 

“You should just be honest. Tell her how you feel.” 

"What if it ruins everything?"

"And what if it doesn't?" 

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 2)

2. The wheel of death

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the second episode.

Warnings for this chapter: canon typical violence, kidnapping

Word count: 3,1k

Theme song: “Haunted Isles” by Derek Fiechter (click on the link)

A/N: I almost didn't believe I wrote so much considering the process felt so slow and kind of annoying. Not the best chapter I've written so far, not something I'm necessarily proud of, but I wanted to follow OPLA's plot. I know 3k words isn't much, but I already prepared pieces of the next chapters that I'm genuinely excited to share with you. Half of this part is filled with action, meanwhile, the next chapter will be full of psychological analysis and a lot of thoughts + more interactions between the reader and Zoro.

The reader will be referred to as "Witch" from now on, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

The view made her smile as she looked at the dark blue nuance of the sea, her eyes sparkling just like the moon that was hidden by the gray clouds at that time. Her heart beat so peacefully, in sync with the waves of the water, and with every inhale she could feel that sensation taking over her senses. Everytime she got on a ship, the feeling grew stronger and stronger and she doubted there was a limit.

Freedom had no limit and she wondered if that's what it felt like.

"We're not a crew," Zoro and Nami — the woman with orange hair — said in unison.

Luffy was dead set on calling four people a crew, despite the fact that it was a decision he kind of made on his own.

Zoro's tall figure disappeared inside the cabin, where he intended to nap. She was intrigued; it was the same man who made a fool of those marines back at the tavern. The witch was confused about the soft clinck sounds coming from him, until she realized it was just his three golden earrings hitting one another at each move.

Luffy's last crewmate smiled, endeared by the unfaltering enthusiasm their supposed captain was radiating. He was like a ball of energy since they got on Nami's ship and sailed away with help from Koby.

"So, you're a witch," Luffy excitedly turned towards her.

"You could call me that, I think," she shrugged.

"Do you do magic? Like, potions in a cauldron and spells with candles—"

"I think you know too many stereotypes," she let out a long sigh.

Nami was on her knees in front of the safe box, ear glued to the locker as she rolled it between her fingers.

"So you won't chop us into pieces and boil us?" She arched her eyebrow, unintentionally feeding Luffy's crazy ideas.

"You—!"

"No, I don't."

She rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger.

"What about you two talking after I finish unlocking this? I need silence."

The witch sat down, resting her body against a barrel as she watched Nami's careful actions. Now that she thinks about it, she never saw someone so sure of themselves while opening up this kind of locker, which meant it wasn't the first time she did it either. She presented herself as a thief.

Luffy was agitated, roaming around and stretching, a big smile on his lips. He was holding back from babbling until he forgot he had to keep his mouth shut.

"I almost can't believe I already have a crew and we got our hands on the Grand Line map."

"Luffy," the witch whispered so she wouldn't disturb Nami. "You do know none of us promised to take part in this adventure, right?"

She was trying her best to be gentle about the topic, especially since he seemed so happy he couldn't hold back at all. Luffy had no filter anymore, saying whatever came to mind, but she supposed he's always like that.

"Maybe you'll change your mind," he beamed.

"I appreciate your help a lot, kid, and I'll try my best to help you if I get the chance until we get to the next destination, but I don't know about that," she shook her head.

"You said the same thing at the tavern: that it's dangerous."

"And I still didn't change my mind. It is dangerous."

"Can you be silent?" Nami accentuated her words in annoyance.

"Sorry," the witch muttered.

The orange haired woman glued her ear to the lock again, eyes narrowed and brows pulled together in concentration. One strand of hair fell over her blue eyes but she didn't mind it while she continued opening the locker up.

A small click vibrated shyly through the air and Nami snapped up.

"It's open!" she shouted.

From inside the box, Nami took a long cylinder and opened it. The witch moved behind her and looked at the map of the Grand Line, inspecting it with the eye of someone who wasn't an expert at all. She was focusing on the navigator's explanations so intensely, she didn't notice when the other two approached. Zoro's swords brushed by her leg, moving her entire attention to him.

The sound of fireworks filled the air.

"The marines? When did they find us?" Nami furrowed her eyebrows.

"What's with the red smoke?" the witch found herself asking right after she started seeing in nuances.

"It smells weird," Luffy muttered.

She found out it was true only after she inhaled it and her vision was getting blurry. Everything happened so fast: Nami falling first, then Zoro saying something she couldn't hear. Her body got soft and in less than a few seconds, she fell unconscious after she caught a glimpse of a pirate ship.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch rubbed her wrists together, but her attempt to escape from the rope digging into her skin was futile. She was sitting in an open chest, her knees pulled close to her chest; both her legs and wrists were tied and she was growing tired of it.

They were kidnapped by some pirate clowns and thrown into what he called the Green Room. Luffy was still in the main tent, and what was happening to him was a secret between the clowns and the dozens of people who had their legs chained like animals.

The Green Room was filled with strange things and old furniture and cushions. Golden bulbs shined and reflected into some square mirrors and another large one with skulls as ornaments. There was a chair in front of a desk, where cups were placed next to some photos. A creepy white mannequin stood right next to the chest she was sitting in, wearing an elegant purple scarf. Something that imitated a chandelier was hanging in the middle of the roof, made out of big flower cups of white thin material. Zoro's swords were left against one of the cushions, where her two identical guns were.

A barely audible groan left the swordsman's lips as he struggled against the rope that glued his wrists to a big wheel.

"They're too strong even for you," Nami commented in a shallow tone.

Both of her hands clutched at the metal bars of the wide bird cage she was stuck in.

"I need to get out of here and kill some clowns," he muttered, focused on escaping. "I've got out of worse."

"With that I have to agree," the witch sighed.

"I saw a town when I got out of the tent… what was left of it after Buggy destroyed it."

"You mean, when you tried to leave us for dead?" Zoro grimaced after pulling at the ropes again.

The witch was like a bystander, her eyes running from one to the other. They were seriously insane, ready to argue in a life-or-death situation.

"You were picking up a fight you couldn't win," Nami snapped her head towards the swordsman.

"I know your type: if there's nothing to gain, you're out."

"Says the one who runs after Berries—"

"Shut it, you two," the witch intervened, letting out a groan. "We can argue and throw venom at each other after we get out of here."

"If we get out of here," Nami retorted.

"We do because I have too much of an ego to play in a circus created by a maniac," the witch mumbled.

After a few moments of silence, no sounds coming from outside the room they were left in, Nami got a lock pin out of her boot.

"Didn't they take all of them?" Zoro asked.

"They only took three," she smirked for a brief moment.

The witch leaned her torso forward and, despite the painful tug of the rope, she tried to raise them to the belt of her pants. She snuck her fingers between the two pieces of clothing and bit at her bottom lip when her skin started stinging painfully.

Finally, she got a small pocket knife out and grinned.

"I thought you were a witch," the swordsman gazed at her.

"You'll see magic once I get out of here," she joked.

A loud scream ripped through the air and it made all of them snap their heads towards the door.

Was that Luffy?

The witch's blood froze in her veins.

"You better hurry," Zoro whispered.

The witch gulped and wielded the knife between her fingers until the sharp edge grazed the rope around her wrists. She moved the knife up and down, putting as much pressure as the position allowed her. Nami, on the other hand, continued rolling the lock pick into the padlock.

Now that the woman stared intently at the mannequin while cutting the rope — even if way too slowly —, the doll had a scary smile painted in black on its porcelain face. Why was it looking back at her?

Minutes of unsuccessful cutting ropes and rolling lock picks, after another groan coming out of Zoro's mouth, he spoke:

"Someone's coming."

"Keep them talking, I need more time," Nami turned her head.

"Same here."

"I don't talk, I hit things," he grunted.

"Then change your hobby," the witch huffed.

The witch's eyes widened and she leaned back against the chest, so her arms and pocket knife would be hidden. Her heart was beating painfully fast in between her ribs and it was almost ridiculous, how she was sweating and the clothes started getting uncomfortable.

A monocycle creaked under the man who just got inside the room. He passed right by her when he came in, which sent her into an inner crisis. Wearing dark colored clothes and an unbuttoned coat without sleeves, the man hopped off and let the object fall to the floor.

She had no clue why the pirate chose to get close to the swordsman, who looked at him dead in the eye.

"Remember me?" the pirate spoke.

"No. Must be some other homicidal, unicycle-riding clown."

The witch was reminded you pay for the audacity of speaking up to your enemy when you're locked up; Zoro got instantly hit by the pirate's fist into the stomach. However, he didn't give that clown any satisfaction, his lips glued.

She eyed Nami, who was turned with her back at the lock of her cage, trying to open it without even looking at it. Damn, it wasn't good.

The witch couldn't hear whatever the fuck that clown was muttering at Zoro's ear, her fingers moving the knife faster, a tight knot settling in her throat as adrenaline pumped through her.

Nami made eye contact with the swordsman and the pirate who called himself Cabaji turned towards her.

"I've never met a clown. I thought they're supposed to be funny. Do some acrobatics on your monocycle, maybe it can help the time pass."

The witch shouldn't have opened her mouth in the first place, but if Nami was caught, it could've ended badly. Maybe it was the fault of the adrenaline, but pissing off that idiot with three strands of mint green hair made her smirk victoriously.

People who get angry when you step on their ego have always been the funniest creatures alive.

Of course, the reaction she received wasn't a good one. The pirate took two knives from his belt and stepped closer. She refused to look away and nothing could erase that grin off her face.

"Still doesn't ring a bell," Zoro caught his attention again.

Bad move. One of Cabaji's knives cut through the air and sunk into the wood the swordsman was glued to. Any other sounds have immediately been silenced.

"You followed us day and night for weeks through the Goa kingdom, never relenting, like some kind of demon."

Oh, so that's who Roronoa Zoro really was; the witch dared to allow her curiosity to act like a sponge about the new information. Interesting. The swordsman was a demon and a bounty hunter. Amazing combo.

He was probably hated by every pirate on the sea.

The woman tried her best to focus on the pocket knife between her fingers, but she couldn't help the fear crawling up into her skin. They had to get out of there alive and, preferably, with their limbs attached to their body.

After a few heavy steps, Cabaji gripped at the edge of the wooden wheel and in less than two seconds, the swordsman was rotating like a toy. The pirate walked roughly two meters away and then continued tossing knives, each time managing to avoid Zoro's flesh.

Nami and the witch looked at each other for a brief moment and then continued with their previous work.

When the rope finally got cut, she looked at the maniac pirate who didn't stop with his play yet. She held back her reactions, instead choosing to look at the swordsman who was rotating in the air and it made her pale. Time passed by too slowly and she slowly let out a long sigh when the wheel stopped from moving.

"You really don't fear death, do you?" Cabaji huffed.

He wasn't satisfied by the lack of reaction he received from Zoro who looked like he's gone through that three times a day for years. How did he manage to keep such a poker face?

"No, I just don't fear you."

Good, make him corner you.

The pirate didn't think twice before he threw a knife that aimed right above the swordsman's wrist. Their enemy wasn't careful enough, since the rope could now be easily cut.

Cabaji walked towards Zoro — another mistake. Nami already opened her cage and she was silently getting out. The witch didn't hesitate when she stopped pretending like she still had her wrists tied together. Clutching at the knife between her fingers, she raised her hand and tossed the sharp object through the air, aiming at the man's back.

"Thinking you're the only one who can play with knives, clown?" she huffed.

Cabaji turned and it was Nami's opportunity to kick his stomach with her foot, which made him fall on his back, the knife digging further into his flesh, cutting through his ribs and lung.

Finally, the witch's anxiety lowered now that one of their men was down. Now, who knows how many more they had to defeat.

"I didn't take you for a criminal."

Nami took one of the knives stuck in the wheel and cut Zoro's rope and then came to her other crewmate, helping with the rope around her ankles.

"I was desperate and he was annoying," the witch shrugged while she rubbed at her aching wrists.

When she found the freedom of moving again, she got out of the chest and took all the knives she found, including the ones from the wheel.

"What's the plan?" Zoro asked as he arranged his swords back at his hip.

"I say we beat the shit out of every clown we see," Nami grinned.

The witch smiled after she put each knife at her belt, rolling another one between her fingers. With her guns sitting at each side of her hip and the bonus of adrenaline, it felt like nothing could stop her.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The sharp edge of the weapon broke the glass after she threw it right in the middle of Luffy's aquarium — or whatever that thing was supposed to be.

"Luffy!" she shouted his name.

The glass wall of his cage shattered and the water splashed around, the straw hat coughing, his face pale. He was on the floor, soaked to the bone. His straw hat was so close to him,yet so far away. Luffy vomited the cylinder with the map and despite the nausea he was experiencing, he crawled to his hat.

He put himself in danger this entire time and chose not to let go of the Grand Line map, but that object held much more importance to him. The witch froze for a mere moment, confused, but when she wanted to get closer and get the map away from Buggy, a pirate with a sword came sprinting towards her.

"Witch!" she heard a gruff voice.

She dodged it before her head could get cut off and sank a knife into his stomach, only to raise the agony after she hit the man in the same spot, blood gushing out of his wound and soaking his clothes.

With a swift motion, her fingers grabbed at one of her revolvers. She fired at Buggy who was a breath away from touching the map, but didn't pay enough attention to another attack towards her.

A sword's edge shone in the corner of her eye and no matter how fast she was, she couldn't dodge that. Her eyes widened and she waited for the pain to inflict into her body. The pirate froze in place and his sword slipped between his fingers. When he fell to his knees, from behind him there was Zoro who was using a three-sword style.

Definitely a demon; but in a good way.

The witch nodded at him. She didn't train properly in the past year and she lost some speed on the way. She hasn't been in such a situation for a long time.

With other two pirates attacking them from the sides, she protected his blind spot while he killed another enemy with a mere flick of his swords. Another loud shot rang through the air and another man fell down, the center of his heart pierced.

"Buggy needs to have a weakness," the witch said.

"And what is it?"

The answer was right before their eyes: Luffy managed to get back to his feet while they were busy. He used his ability to elongate his arm and grabbed at the leg who was moving in the air, only to throw it in a chest. Nami closed it and grinned mischievously.

That was it.

The witch rolled another knife between her fingers and analyzed the detached hand that was rotating around her. At the perfect time, she threw it in the middle of its palm with enough force to send it into another chest, Nami locking it.

They focused on getting each part of Buggy's body stuck in any suitable place, be it a chest, a barrel or under a bucket. For as long as they got rid of that maniac, everything was fine.

She let out a sigh when only the clown's head remained intact, now laughing pitifully. Zoro bent down and grabbed the head, locking it into a box and putting a rock on top of it.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

A/N: Thank you so much for the comments and the support <3

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58

[fakeuwus]

GUILTY CONSCIENCE | sim jaeyun

now playing ☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡ guilty conscience by 070 shake

⁺ ⋆˚ genre: idol!jake x nonidol/femreader, just angst man am i sorry, established relationship

⁺ ⋆˚ warnings: lowercase intended, cursing, being drunk, infidelity, gaslighting(?), baby is used as a nickname, one suggestive text, jay is mentioned BRIEFLY

⁺ ⋆˚ word count: ~1.2k

⁺ ⋆˚ message from nic: i know i already did a piece ab cheating but all of my works are inspired by songs or i try to connect them to a song,,, i just feel it sets the tone of the story and its fun to connect a story to a song!! and since this song is one of my favs atm i HAD to write ab it. i definitely recommend u guys listen to the song while reading or even listen to it after. kinda ironic how cheating is one of my pet peeves (i fr despise it sm dont get me started) yet here i am writing ab it lmao. i promise i'll write something more lighthearted and/or anything that isn't angst soon LOL. but hope y'all enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

"5 AM when i walked in, could not believe what i saw"

yn: JAKEY JAKE JAKEY pleaseee come tk the club rn i habent seen u since u got nack :(

jake chuckles at the message as he reads it. he glances over at the clock that reads 4:38 AM. he knows that clubs in korea don’t close until 8 but god damn how are you still partying with your friends this late? he figures that you must’ve had a little too much to drink and your party animals for friends don’t help at all.

jake: ik baby but we had schedules right when we landed and im so tired… how are u even still there rn???

yn: TOO MICJ FUN :D

yn: COME HAVE FUN WITH ME BABY ;)

jake: u make it rlly hard to say no to u

jake: ill be there soon<3

jake sighs as he rises from his bed, making sure not to wake jay who’s fast asleep. he envies how jay can be sleeping so peacefully when jake is experiencing the worst jet lag of his life. you being out at 4 in the morning and his racing mind doesn't help him try to get some shut eye either.

he dresses quickly, making sure it's quiet when he exits the dorms. it’s not his finest fashion moment but he could care less about what he looks like. he’s only going out to see you and to possibly save you from whatever crazy antics you and the girls are up to.

jake isn’t going to lie when he says he hasn’t made the best effort to see you after getting back from tour. but he also didn’t lie when he said his schedule was super jam packed these days. he should’ve immediately ran to you as soon as he landed but he just didn’t have it in him. guilt gnawed away at his heart as he hailed a cab to lead him to the club you were having the time of your life at.

jake enters the back of the club smoothly without drawing any attention. thankfully your friends secured a vip table upstairs in a secluded area, making it easy for clubgoers to not notice that an idol was going to a club at godforsaken hours.

approaching the table he sees you right away. it’s not hard to spot your beautiful red dress, hugging every curve on your body. your long hair flows as you sway your hips back and forth. jake smiles to himself. how did he manage to bag the most gorgeous girl in all of seoul, korea? it was clear you were having way too much fun, giggling and dancing with your friends and-

he quietly gasps. the scene before him makes him halt in his tracks. it was like time stopped and the flashing lights began to blind his vision. his heart rate slowed and his palms were becoming clammy.

maybe he was mistaken. there was no way you would do this to him, he thinks. but there you were cuddled up next to a man, drunk out of your mind. jake can't stand another minute watching you and the mysterious person grind up against one another.

in a blinded rage he rushes towards the guy and pushes him away from you with all of his power. “GET THE FUCK OFF MY GIRL!” you shriek and the guy stumbles backwards sending a few drinks flying off of a nearby table. “YOU MIND TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE YN?!”

your mouth is agape and your mind is scrambling to figure out what to say. you know you can’t explain how you were practically dry humping a stranger, too shocked and the alcohol still strong in your system. you're struggling to say something, anything to try to make things right.

“and you,” jake turns and gets too close to the man’s face. “she’s clearly too inebriated to make the right decisions. how DARE you take advantage of her like that?!” you’re confused as to why he’s flipping the script and blaming the stranger but jake rips you away from everyone too fast for you to think another second. you stumble as you’re dragged away to a dark corner.

the two of you are standing in awkward silence, no one daring to say a word. your eyes are looking everywhere but jake. you’re too afraid to see what kind of expression his face has. “jake i-” “no. you don’t get to speak right now. there’s nothing you could say to justify what i just saw.”

ragged breaths begin to come out of your mouth and your chest is tightening. “jake please baby i just- i was so drunk and these guys came up to us and…” your sentence trails off, every word you’re saying just sounds so ridiculous at the moment. he’s right. you couldn’t say anything to excuse your wrongful actions.

“and to think i came here at fuck ass o’ clock just to come and see you. i’ve barely gotten an ounce of sleep these days but i gave that up to come because you were BEGGING for me to be here.” his voice is angry and you know he has every right to be screaming at you. at this point tears are threatening to spill from both of your guys’ eyes. “jake… i know i know and i’m so sorry i swear nothing like that-”

“NO. no just no,” he pauses carefully choosing the words he’s about to say next. “you’re right. there won’t be a next time… we’re done.” the tears that brimmed your lashes are now falling. the alcohol that once ran through you is now gone. you move to grab his hand but he takes a step back. the distance between you two grows larger and he seems out of reach.

“jake please we can work this out! please don’t leave me because of this.” your pleas are ringing in his ears but he ignores them. “we can’t come back from this yn. how could you think i’d ever trust you from now on?! don’t contact me ever. have a nice life.” the loud music pounds on the walls just like your heart is in your chest. you’re left alone sobbing, wondering how you managed to fuck up the best relationship you’ve ever had.

jake stumbles out of the club, trying to clutch onto anything to help him out. the fresh breeze of the night blows onto his face and helps him regain his breath. he struggles to get his thoughts together as he walks down the sidewalk back to the dorms.

maybe he was too harsh with the way he spoke to you but he knew it had to be done. seeing you cling onto someone that wasn't him was his ticket out. he knows that you're absolutely going to be broken for awhile but you'll be okay, right? he knows that you're going to blame yourself for this for who knows how long but you're going to be fine in the end, right?

he convinces himself that it's better you than him because now,

he'll never have to admit what he was doing while he was away from you on tour.

"i caught you but you never caught me, i was sitting here waiting on karma, there goes my guilty conscience."

© fakeuwus 2023 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize

[theaceace]

I'm still thinking about this and people seem to like it so here's some more thoughts, also this is getting its own post now as a follow up to this

Dream is the prince of stories and so he knows already how this story is going to end. How it always ends.

He was there, after all, the first time it was lived, the first time it was told, and heard, and sung, and wept over, and dreamt of. And not only that, but he knows every variation - and there have been so many of them over the years. So many twists and turns that have been dreamt of - so many of them by over a thousand people, until all of them were as true as each other from the beginning to the end. The stories are contradictory, but that doesn't matter. They can all be true nonetheless, and not even Dream knows now which was the original.

(He could know. It would be so easy to know. It must be there within the library - within him - gathering dust. He didn't look, even when he could. He chose not to)

There are worlds in which Orpheus looks back in doubt, in which he is afraid that he has been tricked and his love is still deep in Hades. There are versions that have him unable to bear Eurydice's cries, her wails of anguish, and he turns to comfort her even knowing that it will be their doom. There are tales that have him reach the living world, and in his exultation turn to help Eurydice a moment too soon. There are poems in which he looks back believing he is saving them, and songs in which he knows he is dooming them.

Dream wonders, as he follows silently behind Hob, which version this shall be. Just when his old, old friend will succumb to the tale, as he inevitably must. Will they make it as far as the door - will Dream be afforded a glimpse of sunlight, after a century of the dark? Will he see beyond Hob, for that single moment as he turns in the doorway, see out to the Waking, or to his own realm?

Or will Hob surrender before then? He has made it much further than so many of the others, his back straight and his steps sure. He had marched so confidently from the basement that Dream might have been able to overlook the way his hands trembled. The Dreaming will not make it easy - and Dream has not the power to control it while he is still bound within the narrative. The path through the house is clear, but it is long and circuitous - far more so than its Waking counterpart. Hob does not falter at each twist and turn, but Dream knows there will be other tricks and traps.

(Hob hears voices calling from the other room. He hears Eleanor, hears Robyn, hears the voices of all those he has loved and lost in his long life. They cry out to him, beg him to bring them back too, ask him why he didn't ask the Dream Lord for them to be returned to life. You could have asked for anything - why didn't you ask for me?

Because you're gone. Because I loved you and lost you and mourned you and still I chose to live without you! He doesn't call back. Because my friend is the only person I have never had to lose or leave behind! The voices stop eventually, and the house is silent once more but for a single set of footsteps)

(Once, he hears Dream's voice, begging him to turn and look, please, won't Hob look at him? And Hob only scoffs, because even bound naked and caged for over a century, his friend had not begged for Hob's help. He can't imagine his arrogant old stranger ever begging for anything at all. And so, the house falls silent)

Dream had never thought overmuch about the path Eurydice walked as she followed his son from the depths of Hades. Had she wanted to leave that place, as Dream does? Had she felt some piece of herself returning with each dogged step, or had she followed because the gods willed it, and so she obeyed? She had dreamt often of Orpheus, of their life together - she must have loved him then, while she still lived. Had she loved him then, when he came to fetch her, though she was but a cold shade of herself? (She must have, she must have, she must have, Dream thinks, staring at Hob's back. How could she not, when he was the first warmth she had known in that place?)

Had she known? As they climbed, and she stared at her lover (Dream's son) had she known then that it was futile? Had it mattered to her, or had she been content knowing that Orpheus loved her enough to defy the underworld? Had she watched his back as they walked, and known that the next time she saw his face would be the last? She must have forgiven him, of that Dream is sure. She must have understood.

(Dream has already forgiven Hob for his failure. He knows not when it will come, only that it must, and he isn't angry. This story is as much a part of him as any other - how could he resent Hob for playing his part in it so beautifully?)

Dream has never regretted, before, his reticence when Eurydice still lived. He thinks of his son and the mortal girl he had loved, staring at his dear friend's back, and is unsurprised to find himself crying.

Once, as they draw close to the end, he sees Alexander Burgess watching them from behind a half-closed door. He doesn't know if Hob sees him, doesn't know if his steps are unfaltering through sheer force of will. Alexander watches, his facade flickering between that of an old man, the timid thing that had shot Jessamy at the heart of Dream's prison, and the quaking child that had first followed his father through to the basement of the Dreaming house. Dream cannot harm him, of course. As a young man he had asked for safety, and so safety he would have until he left this place, after spending years glancing back like a hunted animal. Even if there should come a time that Dream is freed, he will not break that vow, and Alex will remain as trapped by his cowardice as he ever was.

But - oh. There it is. The door - he had been distracted, and by the time he looks forward again, they have reached it. Hob reaches for the handle, and still he hasn't looked back. He pulls the door open, and still he hasn't looked back. He steps out, into weak morning sunlight, and still he hasn't looked back. He stands, unmoving apart from the way his clenched fists shake, and still he hasn't looked back.

Dream stands, frozen, in the shadows of the doorway, staring out over the threshold. At the light, at the freedom, so very close. A few steps, nothing more. He doesn't understand - this is never how the story goes. All the dreamers that tried to bend it to their will (the idiots that had given it a happy ending) and inevitably it had returned to its true form, over and over. This isn't... He doesn't...

His throat works, his jaw moves, his voice is thick.

"Hob?" He doesn't understand, he doesn't -

And Hob -

End title

[mikachacha]

𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙲𝚊𝚛 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Synopsis: You met Bada when she recently broke off with Howl. You were there for her, you built her up and now, she's left you picking up the remaining pieces of your heart after you mader her's whole again.

Warnings: cheating, language and this one will be heavy 🥹🫶

(A/N: This idea is inspired from Taylor Swift's song, Getaway Car. Yeah I'm a huge swiftie if you can't tell already 😫 and the idea is further fueled by @nimixie who gave me the idea of cheating Bada so thank u so muchhhh)

🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸

"Bada, just.. Just tell me the truth! I'm tired of you lying straight to my face. Just please, just this once.. Are you dating Howl again?" you asked Bada after she came home from a supposedly class but a friend of yours spotted Bada, going on a date with Howl and even snapped a pic of the two kissing.

"Y/N that's not true.. Howl and I are just friends.." Bada lied once more and you couldn't stop your tears from falling as you handed your phone to her, showing her the pictures of them kissing just earlier. Bada's eyes widened as she looked at the pictures and tried to apologize, promising that it meant nothing but you're done.

"Save it, Bada. I'm just a getaway car for you, aren't I? Just someone you can use to forget all the pain you're feeling and once you're okay again, you'll discard me as if I meant nothing. You never really loved me in the first place, you just needed me." you looked at her, heart aching from the betrayal. You loved her truly but you were just nothing to her.

You packed your belongings and left, Bada didn't even tried to stop you, she just let you be. She just let you pick up the broken pieces of your heart after you made her's whole again.

A few weeks has gone by and you're trying your best to be okay again but it was a hard thing to do, especially when news of Bada and Howl being a couple again is the hottest talk of town. She didn't even bothered hiding the fact that they're back together but when she was with you, she kept you like a secret. She would introduce you to people as her best friend, wouldn't hold your hand in public and would often just keep you at home.

"Y/N.." you heard a familiar voice call you when you were at the restroom of the bar that you're currently hanging out at, that made your heart ache and tears well up in your eyes. It's Bada.

"Bada, don't. Just don't.. I'm trying to live my life in peace, let me have that." you told her without looking at her. You know you'd break down, beg her to be with you and you know too well that's exactly what she wants to happen but you're not giving her that satisfaction, not again.

"Look, I just want to say sorry for everything.. Believe it or not, I did love you. I loved you.." she spoke and your sadness was replaced by anger when she said those words.

"Loved me? Bada, you don't have to fool me or yourself anymore. You and I both know that you never did! You just needed me to make you feel loved, to fill the void that Howl left when you two broke up.. I'm just a seat warmer for him just in case he comes back or you found someone better. You know what, fuck you and fuck all of your lies! Don't ever talk to me again and leave me the fuck alone!" you bursted out and ran out of the rest room and out of the bar, crying inside your car because you couldn't deny that you still love her. You loved her even more than yourself but all you got from her was betrayal.

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 23.

"Is that taco bell breakfast i smell?" jake said, sounding as if he was about to start floating to locate the smell. he turned the corner into the kitchen, where i was sitting with tara.

it was 7 in the morning, and the 4 of us were about to go finally pack up my old apartment. they insisted on helping despite me saying i could get it all done myself since i didn't own much anyway.

"Yes, jake." she rolled her eyes, tossing him his usual order. he squeeled like a little girl before tearing into the wrap.

"im gonna go get johnnie up." i walked down the hall towards our room and walked in silently.

johnnie laid on the bed with a peaceful look on his face. his arms were tucked awkwardly under his head as his legs were tangled in the blankets.

i gently shook his shoulder, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Good morning, sleepy head. we have breakfast."

he rubbed his eye, black eyeshadow transferring to his finger. "mornin'." he pulled me in, kissing me softly before sitting up. "When you were asleep, i organized the closet. you can fit your clothes in half of it now."

"Oh my god, really?" i furrowed my eyebrows, a small smile growing on my face.

"i mean, yeah. where else are you going to put your clothes?" he slipped on his socks and stood up.

his fingers tangled with mine as he led me back into the kitchen and sat down next to me. he rested his hand right above my knee as Jake immediately started a conversation with them. i passed johnnie his breakfast, and he dug in, clearly starving.

jake looked down at his phone, "what time do you think we'll be done?"

"Well, im not too sure. i mean, theres 5 of us packing up my tiny apartment, so it's probably around noon." i thought outloud, earning a 'hm' from jake.

everyone had finished their food. jake and tara went to get their shoes on and start the car while johnnie went to take off his makeup. i sat in the kitchen on my phone, waiting for johnnie to be done.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his clean face making me smile. it wasn't often i got to see him without makeup.

"mhm." i stood up and stretched. i put my hair into a messy bun to get it out of the way before walking out the door, johnnie not far behind me. "Thank you again for helping with all of this."

"Don't thank me." he hesitated as if he was going to add onto the sentence. he gently rubbed my lower back.

i hummed, "Okay, then."

Johnnie and i sat in the back of jakes car while him and Tara were up front. I zoned out. thinking about my old apartment made me nervous. although i wasn't going alone, something still felt off. after the incident and how easily i got imhured, i didn't want the same to happen to them. Or maybe it was the fact that my creepy old neighbor lent me a piece to a vaccum, and i still need to give it back, but i seriously doubted that was the reason. i decided to shove my paranoia down as i didn't want to let it ruin my day.

it was if i had blinked and we were already there. i picked my head up, rubbing the cheek that was leaning on my arm.

"i was room number 206," i commented, pulling the keys out of my pocket.

"i can't believe theres not a fucking elevator. This bitch has 5 stories." Jake complained as we tromped up the stairs.

"Just be glad she's not on the 5th one," tara wiped smudged lip gloss off the corner of her mouth.

"Exactly," johnnie nods, slightly out of breath.

i unlocked my front door and pushed it open, revealing my still messy apartment. "Oh, i never came back to clean up." i admitted, even though it was plain to see.

"dont worry about it, missy." jake teased in his southern accent.

tara and jake covered the kitchen while johnnie and i started in the living room. we all added songs to the spotify queue and got to work. i was smart enough to keep boxes stored in my closet. There was always a just in case thing. The living room was nearly empty, the only furniture consisting of a rug and a small sofa that i planned on putting by the trash for someone else to take. i didn't have much decoration, either. All that i had was a painting, my mother had made me and a thrifted portrait of marilyn monroe. The only other things on the wall were some empty colorful vases on a small shelf.

we quickly wrapped those up while tara and jake stacked all of my plates and bowls in between wash cloths. I announced we were moving to a different room before heading into the hall to focus on the closet.

The closet didn't take much work. We shoved blankets and towels into one big box before moving on to my bedroom.

my room was a much bigger task, considering this was the room i spent most of my time in. i sat at my vanity and began packing it up while Johnnie took over the closet.

"i want to stream later, and i was wondering if you wanted to be on it." Johnnie mentioned, bagging up clothes that were hung up.

"Sure, that sounds fun. im still kind of nervous though, what if your fans don't like me?" i glanced over.

"They'll love you, i promise." he smiled at me. "i was thinking i could do your makeup for the stream."

"fuck yeah." i agreed, standing up and making my way to my side table. "Didn't we make those plans a while ago?"

"Yeah, but then a bunch of shit happened. and i figured since we're together now, everyone should get to know you a little better." A light blush spread across his face.

"Good idea. im down," i agreed.

The rest of the house was packed up within the next 3 hours. Jake and i moved all of the furniture down to the garbage bins, with little help from tara and johnnie. i took one last look at my empty apartment before locking it up and turning in my keys.

[minkkumaz]

can get myself off ur acc 🫣

but any woonhak boyfie thoughts, like he can't stop kissing u, bros literally so in love 🤕

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS

he lay gently on top of you as his kiss pressed against your puffy lips. it was an action that he quite literally couldn't stop, he was just so in love.

PAIRING kim woonhak x fem!reader WC 0.5k TAGS adults dni. established relationship. fluff. lots and lots and lots and lots of kissing. OMI NOTE anonn! you're always welcome to stay on my account i have a very wide variety wink wink. i hope u like this!

there was a point where your lips became puffy and swollen, your eyes half lidded as the heat between the two of you broke apart. woonhak stared at your tired expression, wiping a strand of hair out of your face to see you better.

he lay carefully above your body, wrapping his arms around you to encase your figure in a fuzzy warmth. you were trapped below him, but you never wanted him to let you go. the light brown strands of hair tickled your face.

you pursed your bottom lip, wanting more from him already.  this sight made him smile, leaving soft pecks on your bruised lips and blushed cheeks.

“you look cute like this baby.” he whispered against your skin, “can’t stop kissing you.”

“woon this is embarassing, what if someone comes in the room? you made me like this.” you whine out, puffing air out of your cheeks.

“i can’t help it i’m just so in love with you. none of the other boys care, it’s my room.” he kissed against your jawline.

the love woonhak had for you grew stronger every single day, and now that he had you he refused to take advantage of that. but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. your pretty features drew him in, as if sculpted by angels themselves. so extremely effortless and he doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful

it was the small things about you, making him grow comfort in the person you were. the sincerity of your words, and the jokes that would sneak their way in your vocabulary after hanging out with someone for a little too long. when you’d playfully punch his arm after jaehyun made him use a stupid pick up line on you.

nobody was quite perfect, yet to him you were shaped with so much love and structure that he could hardly believe that. if he could give you a kiss for every single thing he admired about you, your body would feel numb from the constant touch of his lips.

“you’re so corny kim woonhak.” you kiss his forehead, giving him the same treatment he’s given you.

“but you love how corny i am, kim y/n.”

“oh so we’re married now? when did i become kim y/n?” you grin at him cheekily.

“the second you said yes to being my girlfriend.” he took your hand, lifting up your finger ever so slightly to drag and imaginary ring down it, “see? now it’s official official.”

“imagine i break up with you tomorrow.”

“baby! if you did that i’d probably fall off the face of the earth and listen to jaehyuns unreleased songs from when he had his first breakup.” he fakes a sad face before kissing your lips again.

“okay but then you guys could drop a banger breakup album, and i’ll just get back with you again afterwards.” you suggest, placing the pad of your finger on your chin to make it look like you’re thinking.

“just shut up and kiss me pretty face.” you leaned into him, letting the curve fit against you like a puzzle piece. there were only so many words to describe how it felt to kiss woonhak. but the both of you knew that everything about it felt right. just two kids in love.

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[seospicybin]

ONE CLICK.

Han x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Han has a habit of stalking you online and wishes to get to know you in real life. He finally gets his wish after one night of accidentally sliding into your DM. (8,6k words)

Author's note: a big thank you to my baby @hyunee1 for helping me with this fic. Love you much much 😘

Click.

Click.

Click.

That's how Han usually ends his tough day of busy schedules, sitting on his bed with the bluish glow of his phone in his dark bedroom, clicking on everything about you.

His eyes move up and down trying to catch the speed of his finger scrolling the page of your Instagram, there's a new series of pictures you posted this afternoon. He guesses he missed the notification, and he automatically double-taps it without thinking, as he always does.

He swipes to see all the pictures of you having a day out in sunny weather, a picture of your lipstick mark on your coffee mug, your hand petting a puppy, of you looking out at the mountain view in distance, another two of your self-portraits of that cute smile he likes so much and on the last slide is a picture of a colorful kite against the clear blue sky.

The caption says ''you’re a kite that toys with my heartstrings."

Han recognizes the lyrics to a song, he goes to the comment box then types the continuation of the lyrics, "but it won’t fly cause I’m too fickle, what do I do?"

He hits send and smiles in satisfaction, knowing that you wouldn't recognize him since he's using a secondary account with a made-up name, he can't be too careful in this kind of thing.

He swipes the pictures to the second slide of your selfie, where he can see the crinkles in your eyes that get him wondering if you're just as beautiful in real life or more, he bets it's the latter.

He unconsciously double-taps the Instagram post again, it's already in his default he believes.

He moves on to the other social media you have, Twitter, to see if you share any TMI for today just like you always do. A piece of information that seems to be useless to everyone else is a piece of treasure for him, it’s a step closer to getting to know you better.

"I'm having plums after a long time, they're so sweet and I think it's my new favorite fruit."

You posted the tweet along with a picture of ripe-looking plums in a bowl and another one of you holding the fruit close to your cheek, he can see the resemblance in the way the color of the fruit matches the blush of your cheeks.

Gah! He wishes he can touch those cheeks and feel how soft they are, he's going a little crazy thinking if he could kiss them. He laughs for making himself flustered out of the blue, not to add alone in his bedroom.

He hits the like button and switches to your fan account to check new updates about you, he trusts the information he get from your fans rather than the ones he can easily access on the internet because they're mostly clickbait or fake news, he knows that better than anyone.

There are new photos of you attending a fashion event, you in that white dress with a high slit on the side, revealing just enough skin but at the same time, making him want more.

He zooms in on each picture and touches the phone screen like he could feel you physically by doing it, something is undeniably attractive about you that keeps pulling him in.

Sometimes he wonders if you're real and if you are, is it possible for him to reach you? Meeting you? Talk to you? See your cute smile with his own eyes?

To convince him that you're real, he exits Twitter to access another app.

Truthfully, he specifically made an account for stalking you on whatever social platform you have on the internet, it's the only time he's free to be his honest self, which is a fool for you.

He opens YouTube and one of your vlogs is making an appearance on his homepage, he goes to your channel to see if he missed any new uploads from you. The last one you uploaded is a week ago, he scrolls down to watch the one he always comes back to, the one that kickstarts this obsession of you.

There was nothing special about it, he stumbled on your vlog one day and he didn't know why but he watched it to the end, it somehow fascinated him, how you slowly lured him to keep on watching 

There's just something about you, it's your bubbly personality or how you keep your attitude real and let everyone knows it's just how you usually act in real life.

Han met so many people in the industry he works in, he knows when someone is true or fake, and he can tell it now just from a glance.

But you, you're your authentic self, there's no pretense. He doesn't care if people say it's a biased view but he stands his ground.

He casts the video to his TV and hits the play button, the vlog starts with the opening sound that he recognizes too well, your laugh.

You went for a weekend away to a beach and the opening scene is of you waking up in the middle of the night, talking about how you like hearing the sound of the waves while clutching the blanket close to your chest.

It makes him daydream about you a lot, what it's like if he gets to lay next to you and cuddle you under the cover. It’s a wishful thinking but he can't help himself.

The scene changes to the view of the beach and you running around in the sand, there's one scene that he can vividly play in the back of his head without watching it. You look out at the sea from the pier, the wind blowing your way and the short skirt you're wearing swaying away with the wind.

He has a thing with you in short skirts or maybe this thing started from seeing you wearing this specific piece of clothing a lot in your pictures.

He keeps it to himself, he only allows himself to daydream only good things about you and doesn't want to ruin it with his lewd thoughts 

Next thing he knows, he waves back at you as you waved your hand at the end of the video before it cuts to a black screen. Fourteen minutes of video is not enough.

Frankly, admiring you virtually like this will never be enough, he wants to go to you and meets you in real life.

But a man like him can only dream, right?

-

He wakes up with a smile to a new notification of your new Instagram story.

You're having coffee with a few different kinds of pastries for breakfast.

"I love sweets so much, what should I do?" You wrote on the post.

He types a reply in the message box, 

"Then let me buy as much sweet as you want!" He writes then presses send without the slightest of hesitancy. He had done it a few times, responding to your Instagram stories with messages like that or just a simple 'goodnight' or 'you've worked hard today' to show his admiration to you.

Han never knew that someone he knew through social media would affect him this much, just seeing your pictures is enough to take his mind off things, and watching your video is how he unwinds after a tiring day.

It comes to the point that he misses you and when he does, he'll click on you.

On good or bad days, sober or drunk, he always finds time to click on everything about you.

In fact, he's drunk of out his mind when got home tonight. He crashes onto the bed without taking his shoes off first, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket, and clicks on you again.

There's a new Instagram post from you, three pictures of you having a night out at an event and it's just like you know how much he likes seeing you in it, you're dressed in a leather mini skirt and paired it with a flimsy white top that people can see through the fabric, exposing the lacey corset you're wearing under.

He keeps hitting the like button as he's staring at your pictures.

"Are you wearing that skirt for me, baby?" He speaks to his phone screen.

He brings his phone close to his face to take a closer look instead of zooming in on your pictures, "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

He puts his phone on his chest and lays there with his eyes closed, intoxicated.

"Fuck..." he sighs at the dark of his room, forgot to turn the lights on the way to his bed.

"I can't take this anymore!"

He lifts his phone and clicks on your Instagram profile, he opens the direct messages he sent to you which come to no surprise to him are left unread.

He snorts as he scrolls up and down all the messages he sent to you, he sounded like a love fool and he admits he is.

"I'll let you know, baby, I'll let you know..." he says as he starts typing new messages, pouring out all of his thoughts and letting them unfiltered.

All it takes is just one click, one click and you'll know.

-

Han has been chugging water nonstop the whole morning to wash the alcohol in his system.

He has a schedule today, a performance at an award show and he's sober enough to do his job, he's just feeling a little queasy, that's it.

It's not easy though, he feels like dying after finishing rehearsal and he swears to never drink again, maybe he'll eventually do but maybe not try not to drink alcohol the night before a performance.

The other members start chattering when they bump into someone after getting off the stage from rehearsal, he wonders who it is that makes them all collectively swoon.

He feels like shrinking when he sees that it's you or he wishes he could shrink into a microscopic size when he realized that he's not well presented, his hair is sweaty and his eyes are bleary, the hangover drawn on his face.

And you, you're looking nice even in the casual attire of blue jeans and a black shirt with your hair down.

This is not how he pictured meeting you for the first time would be like. Heck! He didn't even dare to dream of meeting you in real life.

He decides to hide behind his members, out of your sight and out of existence. He hears your voice as you give encouragement for today's stage and excuse yourself to get to your rehearsal.

"Good luck for today!" You say for the last time and someone takes you away.

Back to the waiting room, he goes to his phone and opens your fan account, he misses the update about you going to attend the same show with him tonight.

You also post a new Instagram story, 'rehearsing for tonight' you wrote on it along with a smiling emoticon.

It's like he is programmed to respond to anything you post, he types an encouragement for you, 'you'll do well tonight!'

He closes the app but for a second, he notices something on the messages he sent you. He reopens the app and goes through the DM between you and him, his breath caught in his throat when he sees the long messages he sent to you last night.

His eyes skim over some parts but he can tell how inappropriate they sound, he must have lost it last night to ever let you know his unfiltered thoughts about you.

And that's not the worst of it all, he scrolls down to the last message he sent, and below it, there's a little sign that says 'seen'.

It's like his soul has just left his body at that very second, his phone drops onto his lap and he leans back on the sofa, empty eyes looking at the ceiling, his mind blanks, and his mouth got dry.

How are all of these happening in a span of a few hours? Is it real? Is he in a dream? He can't tell which is which anymore.

All he thinks about is the messages he sent you and the fact that you know.

Now you know.

-

Han succeeds in not meeting you again during the show but when he learns that they have to attend the after-party, he dreads his life again.

It's exclusive just for the guests of the show and that means he'll be in a smaller place, in one room with you and the possibility of meeting you is bigger.

He keeps himself on alert for any sight of you, it's funny remembering how he wanted to meet you but now he wanted the opposite.

He shouldn't be afraid because he interacts with you online in incognito. You don't know that it's him, you probably think that it's just a stupid teenager who's obsessing over you at home and not him.

He keeps reminding himself that but he just can't calm himself down, his foot bouncing the whole night out of nerves.

He secludes himself in a quiet corner of the hotel ballroom and gulps down every glass of champagne that the server passing around on a tray.

He's buzzed enough to dull his mind and calm his nerves, he doesn't know if it's better to get drunk again.

"You need one more?"

He almost jumps in shock and he's aware of how rude he is for reacting like that to you, you come out of nowhere and offer him a drink.

"I'm sorry, I-I..." his mouth got dry again and he stammers his words.

You softly laugh, "I'm sorry if I disturb you," you say.

He hurriedly takes the glass of champagne you offer him before you think that you did intrude on his space, you didn't but he did been trying to avoid you.

He grips the champagne flute so hard that he swears he can hear the glass starts to crack or it's just his imagination and he's right, he knows he's right that you're much prettier in person.

Your eyes crinkle even in the dim of lights and you smell so nice, like a slice of cake or of that dessert you like so much, creamy and nice and... sweet.

You take a small sip of your champagne, "I've been wanting to talk to you the whole night," you begin.

The fear starts to creep in again and he can feel sweat forming on his back. He keeps swallowing air as if trying to keep the truth from coming out.

"It's just now that I get to talk to you," you continue with a smile.

That sweet smile dazzles him and he blinks his eyes a few times to imprint that in his mind.

"I wanted to—"

Oh no? Do you know that it's him? Should he come clean about it before you lay out the fact?

His foot bounced faster, his mouth got drier and the champagne flute is about to shatter in his grip, the beads of cold sweat rolling down his back and...

"I'm sorry I sent you those messages!" He blurts out with his eyes closed, too embarrassed about the reality he has to live in right now.

"Huh?"

"I was drunk... I-I wasn't thinking straight, I was... I didn't know why I send those messages, I only realized it this afternoon after meeting you during rehearsal," he starts blabbering, knowing well his excuses won't cut for an apology but it's just the truth.

He heavily sighs and tries again, "I deeply, deeply apologize to you!" His face drops, looking down at his feet and feeling so frustrated over himself.

You got quiet for a while then clear your throat, "but I was about to say that I like all of the songs you wrote..." your words trail off as the knowledge registered to you.

He looks up at you with eyes widening in pure shock, oh no, he just made a fool of himself. Why did he crack so easily like that? 

He knew that you wouldn't know but now you know because he blurted the truth like that.

"W-what?" He stutters in disbelief while his hand groping around to find something he can hold on to.

You probably think that he's a weirdo or a pervert or a combination of both. You must be disgusted by him, right? You must be...

Then you crack a laugh then say, "oh, so it's you?"

His brain is malfunctioning, he's losing control of his own body and all he can do is stare at you, hoping that he's invisible to you now.

"You're the one who sent me those messages," you say but in an intrigued kind of way rather than a disgusted one.

You put your champagne glass and place your hand on your chest, cracking another laugh at him, "you're one of my followers?" You ask in disbelief.

He is unable to speak yet but he manages to order his body to nod.

"Oh wow, this is so... unexpected!" You exclaim with a grin.

Wait, this reaction is unexpected to him as well. Aren't you supposed to be getting as far away from him as possible and wish to never see him again?

You take your champagne again and finish it in one long sip then gasp. There's a silence going on for a few seconds and you take a step closer to him while holding the empty wine glass in your hand, "so..."

His breath hitched and he holds his breath, afraid that the scent of your sweet perfume will enchant him.

"It was you who sent those messages?" You ask for confirmation.

Han nods repeatedly while keep holding his breath as if he's underwater.

You look away and sheepishly smile, your teeth faintly biting your lower lip.

He's turning blue from holding his breath and when you put the empty glass away is when he finally lets himself breathe. He should start speaking now before things get worse, "I apologize for—"

"Will you really do all that to me?" You cut him off with a provoking question.

He blinks his eyes, nonplussed. He has the answer but he's not sure you will accept it well.

"Buy you as much sweet as you want?" He wildly guesses to save him from making another mistake.

You laugh again from hearing his response, "you're really cute," you say to him.

One compliment is enough to get him flustered and that laugh of yours charms him well, it works to relax him a little.

"Do you have your phone with you?" You ask.

Just like you cast a spell at him, he quickly obeys you, groping his body for his phone, and takes it out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

You take it from him and add your phone number to his contacts, then hand it back to him after.

"You have my number now," you inform him.

"Okay," he shortly replies because he doesn't know how to answer that. His brain is still malfunctioning at the moment.

You laugh again, it's just how clueless he is at the whole situation that makes him awkwardly cute like a lost little puppy.

Your manager finds you at the right time, "we have to leave," she says to you.

"Alright," you answer and gather your purse from the table.

You stay for a while after your manager leaves and come up to him, "before we do anything else I hope you know what to do with my number," you say.

You leave him there, star-struck and in awe.

He needs time to process what just happened to him in the last 24 hours but he knows what to do with your number.

-

"A+ for the eagerness!"

You say the moment you pick up the phone call from him.

Han doesn't want to play cool and make you wait, that's not what he wants. You know how much of a fool he is for you so what the use in playing hard-to-get? Plus, he's in no position to do that.

That's why he calls you as soon as he gets some privacy in his home.

He's all relaxed now that your reaction is far from what he pictured in his head, knowing that you're not grossed out by his filthy thoughts making him feel at ease.

He thinks of something cool to say but his head is empty except for the heavenly smell of your perfume.

"Hi," he awkwardly says to the phone.

Then there's that giggle again, he's addicted to the sound of it already.

"I'll be away for three days and be back on Thursday but I'll be tired by then so Friday?"

It's not that he's not experienced in dating, he dated someone before but that was a long time ago and he didn't have time to do all that again between his busy schedules, now he's just as inexperienced as his teen self, having zero ideas with what you meant by that.

"Friday?" He asks back in confusion.

"Before you get to do what you wanted to do to me, shouldn't you take me on a date first?" You give him a clearer context.

He finally gets what you're saying, you want him to take you on a date. He tries to memorize his schedule and checks the calendar if he has anything on that day, he needs to do some work in the studio but he believes he can finish it earlier.

"Friday afternoon?" He asks again.

There are a few seconds of silence going then he hears a rustle from your end, he's imagining that you're talking to him on the phone while lying on your bed.

"Friday afternoon is fine with me," you finally reply with a low sigh.

It makes him feel like he's there with you, lying next to you on your bed. Without he intends to, he lays down on his bed with his eyes closed, and with the sound of your low breathing he's listening through the phone, it helps him paint the imagery vividly in his head.

Your eyes, your smile, your blushing cheeks, and your sweet-smelling perfume...

"I have to go now, I'm tired," You cut through the scene and shatter his imagination.

He takes a breath to knock some sense back into him that no matter how much he wants to keep talking to you, he can't keep you occupied just to fill his selfish need of hearing your voice.

"Okay."

You softly sigh into the phone, "Goodnight!"

"Sleep well, goodnight!" He says back.

Then you hang up the phone and the call-ending tune reels him back to the reality, that he's alone in his room with the lights off.

That doesn't change the fact that he has become the last person you're talking to before you go to sleep. He's not sure if he'd be in your dream but you'll be in his tonight.

-

Han finishes as soon as he can.

But he's not good at rushing things that he finished a bit longer than he intended to, he picks up some food on the way.

He doesn't want to risk being spotted by people by having a date out, he hesitated a lot when he asks you if it's okay if you're coming to his place instead.

He doesn't want to give the impression that he's forward about what he wants, but he's glad you understand his good intention.

He stares out at the rain outside as he's waiting, letting the coffee grounds sit for a few seconds after he pours hot water over and let it drip.

The sounds of the raindrops pattering against the window and the smell of coffee relaxed him, despite he has been nervous since last night, frankly though, he has been for the last few days since he spoke with you on the phone.

Then the doorbell rings and his heart skip a beat.

He gathers all of his senses, promised to not make a fool out of himself this time, then opens the door.

"Hi!" You say the second you appear in front of him.

It still feels like a dream to him, seeing you in flesh and with his own eyes, breathing the same air with you in his apartment.

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

He snaps himself out of his daze and opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you in, "come in, please!" 

You flash him a smile as you walk past him, letting yourself into his apartment and taking a look around the place. You put your purse and take your cardigan off, place them on the sofa.

"You live alone?" You ask.

"Yeah," he stands there a safe distance away from you.

"No pets?"

"I have a dog but he lives with my parents since I rarely home," he answers.

You nod and turn around to see him, "it's a nice place," you say with a smile.

He feels good about himself, he did a good job at tidying up the things around his place in one night. He hides his triumphant smile and remembers to offer you a drink.

"Coffee?" He offers.

You notice that he's been brewing coffee in the kitchen, "yes, please!"

He walks to the kitchen, "with ice or...?"

"With ice, yes!" You reply.

You're following him to the kitchen to watch him prepare an iced coffee for you.

"Drip coffee?"

He sheepishly smiles at you for noticing it, putting ice cubes into the glass before pouring in the coffee.

"And that's the same coffee I always drink," you say with a raised eyebrow.

Han doesn't mean to show off, he just wanted to make sure that he provides you with everything that you like. Your favorite coffee brand and how you like drip coffee which reminds him that he bought that sweet you like so much.

He takes it out of the fridge and takes out the box of macaroons, he bought all the flavors you like and serves it with the iced coffee.

You look at it then look at him and shot him an impressed smile.

"Of course you know," you say with a smile as you take a sip of your coffee with a straw.

Flustered, Han scratches the back of his head and looks down, "the store happened to be on my way home so..." he vaguely explains.

"As far as I remember, they don't have any branch near here nor your agency," you casually say.

Uh oh! He just got caught lying to your face and doesn't know how to save himself from it.

"That's so sweet of you!" You praise him out of the blue, again giving him the opposite reaction to what he expected.

He looks up at you, finally able to see your eyes to eyes and you're glowing under the fluorescent light. He sees you taking one of the macaroons.

"You should try it, it's good!" You bring the macaroon close to his mouth and tell him to take a bite.

He slowly opens his mouth and lets you feed it to him, taking a little bite of it

"It's good, right?" You say, then shove the rest of the macaroon he just bites into your mouth.

"So good," he says back.

With the permission you got from him, you continue the tour around his house, exploring the rooms one by one.

It's his bedroom you're curious about the most while Han holds his breath as you get inside, he doesn't know what makes him this nervous.

He watches as you approach his desk, you must be aware of the mess on his desk, he was working on something last night and forgot to tidy up after.

"Are you working on something?" You ask, standing next to his desk and playing with an action figure from his collection.

"Yeah, I was working on a track," he answers with his hands gripping the headrest of the chair.

"Can I have a listen?" You ask.

He likes how you sweetly ask for permission for everything like a little child.

"I understand if you can't," you add as you put down the mini figurine back on his desk.

"No, of course, you can, let me just..." he quickly sits on the chair and searches for the track he worked on until late at night on his laptop.

Once he found it, he hands you the headphone.

"It's not finished yet," he informs you before hitting the play button.

Your eyes are looking at him for the whole minute you're listening to his unfinished track, a faint smile appears once in a while, and slightly bob your head here and there.

"I like this," you say, handing him the headphones back.

"Yeah?"

"I think I have a thing for every song you wrote," you say then turning away to move on to the next room.

His room is spacious but why it suddenly feels so small to him, not in the most suffocating way but he feels drawn to get close to you.

He hears your gasp as you step into his closet, he follows you there and sees you standing in the middle of the room.

You look over your shoulder and say, "And here I thought I have too many shoes!"

Han sheepishly smiles and stands by the doorway, watching you look at his shoe collection, then look at his clothes hanging on the other side of the wall.

You pull out one of his jackets and ask, "may I try?" 

And how can he refuse when you ask sweetly like that?

"Sure!"

You take the jacket from the hanger and put it on, walking to the full-length mirror to see how it looks on you.

"What do you think?" You ask for his opinion while looking at his reflection in the mirror.

To be honest, you look good in everything but seeing you in his clothes makes you look more appealing, more alluring he wants you more and more and more.

He clears his throat and pushes the thought away, "you look cool!"

There goes your giggle, his new favorite sound and you put the jacket back on its hanger, putting it back where it belongs.

"Then what about the skirt I wear?" You ask.

His eyes instantly shift to the skirt you're wearing, it's plaid in the colors red and black. It's short and tight, he likes how it accentuates your curve and how it looks on you.

You're coming toward him in slow steps and stop right in front of him, "didn't you say you like seeing me in a short skirt?"

He wonders if you can hear his heart drumming in his chest because he can hear it loud in his ears, deafening.

You're not making a contact with him but his body's temperature is already rising from the proximity.

And your eyes are on him with a subtle sly smile on your face.

You turn around with your back facing him and take his hands, placing them on each side of your hip.

Han looks straight ahead, at both of your reflections in the mirror, and damn, he looks like he belongs there, right next to you.

You catch his eyes through the reflection before sliding his hands down to let him touch the hem of your skirt.

"I'm wearing this for you," you say, still looking at him through the mirror.

Everything else is just so quiet at that moment that he thought you were whispering.

His eyes lower to where his hands touch your skirt and without warning, you pull him closer until his chest meets your back.

Looking over your shoulder with your face merely inches away from his, "do you like it?" You ask.

He swallows hard and tries to think of something to say even though the answer is obvious.

Your head leans back on his shoulder, leaving only an inch between your lips and his.

"I'm wearing this so you can do what you wanted to do to me," you say with your sweet breath brushing his cheek as you speak.

He recalls the messages he sent to you on that one drunken night when he spilled all of his unfiltered thoughts of you.

How do you know I like seeing you in tight, little skirts?

I can't think straight whenever I see you in them. You want me to get in trouble, do you?

His eyes flick back to the reflection of you together and his hands are on you, your hand guiding his going under that he can feel the warm flesh of your thigh.

I take it that whenever you're wearing that tiny skirt you want me to cause a trouble.

And he's holding on to every last shred of sense left in him to not cause trouble. But you make his hand pull the hem of your skirt higher, exposing your thigh and the smooth skin that glows even in the dim light.

Do you want to know what trouble I'll cause?

Just one touch on your silky skin and it's enough to make him give in, he splays his hand on your thigh with your hand on top of his.

I'll touch you there, baby. Lift the hem of your skirt bit by bit, then I'll touch your thighs and that soft skin of yours.

Your skin is warm under his touch and it's getting hot as his hand inches closer to that heavenly thing between your legs.

But he stops once his fingers meet the lacey fabric of your underwear, he might be drunk that night but he remembers everything he wrote that night in the back of his head like the lyrics of his favorite song.

And you think I'll touch you there with my hands? No, baby. My hands may be impatient but my mouth is greedy.

His greedy mouth is getting impatient as well, those red-painted lips tantalize him and so he kisses you. It's even better that you welcomed his kiss with such eagerness, a burst of sweet and hot like a birthday cake with so many candles, he wants to blow on it and eat it too.

His hands are moving on their own, tracing the sides of your body and squeezing your flesh, every touch is a reminder that you're real, this is real.

For a second, he glances at the mirror to assure him that he's not seeing things, he's kissing you with his hands all over you.

You turn around to face him and put your hands around his neck, your red lipstick is fading from his hungry kisses but it doesn't make you less attractive to him.

He lowers his mouth on you again and holds you close, slowly lifting you off the floor to carry you back to his bedroom.

Once he puts you back down, you're walking backward then lying down on the bed.

Han is standing there, watching you waiting for him to let him do what he has been fantasizing about you and your body.

I'll touch you there with my mouth. I'll bury my head between your legs and smell you forever, get myself drunk in your scent.

He kneels on the floor so close to the edge of the bed and parts your legs open, he can see the flimsy fabric of your underwear that covers so little.

How can you wear something so provocative under your skirt?

His eyes are on you as he places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, he begins making a trail of kisses from there until his mouth lands where he wanted the most, he believes that's where you wanted him the most as he feels the fabric is damp from your wetness.

He rolls down the hem of your skirt until it hunches up around your waist so you can see how he doesn't hesitate to kiss your clothed core then buries his nose to inhale your scent.

I wonder what you smell like? I bet your smell will get me drooling like a kid at a candy shop. All I know is I'll crave a lick, a bite, I won't stop until I get enough taste.

This craving is growing bigger the longer he stalls, he pulls your underwear down and takes a sniff at it before tossing it aside. There's nothing like drinking water right from the fountain and he's getting thirsty with every passing second.

You make one sweet cake, baby and I'll eat you out like it's my birthday. I'll lick the icing off, gobble on you until I get to that sweet, sweet filling, and lick my fingers clean when I'm done.

And it feels like his birthday, he's not the type to celebrate it every year but he certainly like how it's all about him on that particular day and he wants to make you remember how he enjoys eating you out, from the way you tug at his hair he can tell that you enjoy it too.

"Oh— oh, fuck!" You mutter under your breath with your other hand fisting the bedsheet.

The way you arch your back against his mouth tells him you want more of it, you want him to leave nothing but how his mouth feels on you.

Oh, those soft whimpers you let out as you cum with his tongue on your clit, it feels like the confetti pops and rains down on him.

Your essence floods his mouth and he smears it all over your cunt with his fingers, so he can lick it all over with his tongue.

You prop your elbow against the mattress, look at him and ask, "How'd it taste?" 

He shoves his fingers coated with your juice in response.

I always have the dessert first and that's how I like it, sweet and creamy, full of a burst of flavors.

He crawls over your body to come to you, kissing you down and planting the natural scent of your body all over his bed, pieces of clothing are off from each other's bodies.

You take a second to look at his body, the muscles on his chest, his broad shoulders, and his impeccable small waist, it's nothing like you've seen before but somehow you like it, he has his own charms.

He looks down on you as you place soft yet searing kisses on his neck and chest, closing his eyes to take it all in, how your lips feel on his skin.

"Fuck, I'm going crazy," he says, holding your face in his hands.

"But we're only halfway there," you say with a sly smile, then turn over on the bed, on all fours with your ass jutting up at him.

That skirt is what starts all this, that skirt is the cause of all this trouble, therefore it should stay on you. It will stay on you as I take you from behind, holding on to your skirt as I thrust into you.

You're naked except for the skirt hunches up around your waist, he takes a moment to run his hand down your spine and the beautiful arc of your back then when his hand meets your skirt, he takes a fistful of it in his hand.

You're moaning just from him teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock and you're so little, he doubts that you can take him well.

His doubt evaporated the second he enters you, slowly and you take it well. You continuously moan until his whole length buries deep inside your tight, velvety walls.

Han has been keeping his moans to himself by pressing his lips together with his jaws all clenched.

You want it slow, you say? No baby, why don't you try to keep up with me? You can blame that itty bitty skirt you wear later.

Your loud moans are enough to beat the sound of the heavy rain outside, the skin-slapping sounds come second, and then there are his grunts that escape through his gritted teeth.

Your head drops onto the pillow with your hands crumpling the sheet, trying to take his hard pounding as he chases his high.

He keeps adding speed as he goes while you keep tightening around his cock, giving him a hard time to last longer than he intended to.

I won't stop, I won't stop until you learn your lesson. I want you to remember that every time you put on that skirt, you'll think of the trouble I'll cause.

His eyes shift from looking at how he's fucking you through the reflection in the mirror to his cock going in and out of you, both giving him the same amount of pleasure.

But it's you, it's you who allowed him to indulge himself in you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeatedly says under his breath every time he almost slips away.

But it's you, you just feel too good and your moans are luring him to give himself in.

His eyes screws shut as he puts all of his into his thrusts and cumming, he realizes that he's going in raw into you a few seconds too late and hurriedly pulls out.

His cum dripping down and he got some drops on you too but he is high in pleasure to notice. His body goes limp but he feels the softness of your body when he collapses on top of you.

Fuck, how I wish I can do all that to you, my sweet pie! I'll always be in trouble just from thinking of you nonetheless.

But that little skirt, that little skirt will be the end of me.

-

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is you and he keeps on blinking his eyes, thinking he's still sleeping.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" You ask with a hand propping your head, looking down at him.

"Am I dreaming?" He asks with confused, squinted eyes.

You softly giggle and gently poke his cheek with your finger, "is that enough to convince you?"

You keep poking his cheek with your index finger, "your cheeks are incredibly soft," you say.

He should be the one curious about you then it hits him that he's under the duvet with you, naked. As if that's enough to convince him that he's not dreaming it, he grabs your hand and kisses it.

Then the reality hits him, he must have dozed off after the sex and cringed at himself, which surely will leave a bad impression on you.

"How long I've been sleeping?" He asks.

"Not long," you reply, turning on the bed to lay on your stomach with the upper half of your body overlapping his.

Now it feels real, having your body on him and your skin on his skin. He puts his hand on the side of your face and brushes your hair to the side, holding it there.

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming right now?" he innocently asks.

You lean in and give him a long peck on the lips, "how about now?" You ask once you break the kiss.

He shakes his head, "I'm not sure," he answers with a faint smile on his face.

"Just say you want me to kiss you again," you say with an eye-roll and place a kiss on his lips, a little longer than the previous one.

"Still think you're dreaming?" You ask again while biting your lower lip.

He doesn't answer but brings his face close to kiss you. With his hands wrapped around you, he rolls on the bed and has you underneath him, kissing you hard and deep.

He takes a break to catch his breath and looks down at you, with your eyes closed and lips wet from the kisses. You're so beautiful that it still doesn't feel real to him.

"I forgot to tell you that I can't stay the night over," you tell him, resting your hand flat on his magnificent chest muscle.

He frowns at the information but he understands, he lives the same way too where his work dictates his life, not the other way around.

"When do you have to leave?" He asks.

You glance at the clock on his bedside table, "in like two hours," you answer while dragging your hand lower to his abdomen.

"Okay," he meekly says because he can't do anything about it.

You keep dragging your hand lower and lower and he starts to notice where it leads.

He shoots you questioning glances and you respond with a smirk, then you bring your mouth close to his ear to whisper, "but I think we have enough time to..."

He closes his eyes as he feels your hand inch closer to his member, getting hard from you implying that you want to go again before you leave.

But your hand takes a turn back to his chest and you lay your head back on the pillow, "order some food because I'm starving," you say, followed by a series of a giggle from succeeding at playing him.

Han scoffs, he can't believe he almost fall for it but he concedes, no matter what he should treat his guest well.

He collapses on his side of the bed and asks, "what do you want for dinner?"

You shift to lay on your side, "Uhm..." you hum as you think with your hand under your chin.

It feels like he's looking at a pictorial in a magazine, therefore he doesn't mind you taking a long time to pick your dinner.

"On a second thought..." you say, snapping him out of his daze.

You get up from the bed and the duvet slides down your body, exposing your body to him like he needed the reminder of how gorgeous you look in your birthday suit.

"We can order the food later," you say and slip your hand under the duvet, closing into his cock that is getting hard from the anticipation.

He groans as your hand finally makes contact with his semi-hard cock with your eyes bore into him as you speak.

"I'd like to have my dessert first," you add with a sly smile.

-

Click.

Click.

Click.

That's still what he does every night, clicking on everything about you. Scrolling down your Instagram page and double taps on the beautiful pictures you took of yourself, leaving a comment on it with emoticons that consist mostly of hearts.

It's when he lays on his bed like this that the image of you fucking him that day flashed through his mind and he remembers everything so vividly.

Your mouth was slightly parted open with soft moans spilling out of it, your skin glows under the dim light, your breasts bouncing with every movement you made, and your ample flesh in his hands. To add to his suffering, he remembers how good to be inside you, and when you cum all over him, it's something that he does not even dare to fantasize about.

Fuck, now that he thinks about it, his cock is twitching in his pants.

He checks his phone and the last text he sent you looks so lonely without your reply.

On the day of the date, he watched you get dressed from the doorway of his bedroom, you put your skirt back on and turned around to look at him.

"I think you owe me a skirt," you said, showing him the mess he made on the fabric and he believed it's his cum dropping on your skirt when he hastily pulled out of you.

That's what was inside the package, a skirt that he owes you and he carefully picked it with the help of his stylist, frankly, he also chose one that he would love to see on you.

He's been waiting for your reply, wanting to know whether you like it or not. Alas, you've been keeping him on his toes all day.

To compensate for the absence of your presence in his day, he goes to your YouTube page to watch his favorite video of you, it feels a whole lot different watching it after he met you in real life. It enhances everything since he knows how you look like, how you smell, how you taste, and how you feel like.

He can't take it anymore, he craves you so badly like he's running low on sugar.

If you're not going to reply then he'll just send you another text, screw being a cool guy! He'll let you know how much he wants to see you.

Like you're listening to the rant in his head, the three dots appear on the chat box which means that you're typing a message for him.

He bites his lower lip with his fingers tapping the back of his phone nervously.

"I got the package!" You write.

His fingers automatically respond to your text and compose a reply even before his brain can think of an answer.

"Yeah?"

"The skirt. I love it!" You wrote along with three hearts emoticons.

He triumphantly smiles in the dark of his room, deep down, he knows that you'll like his pick.

"I'm glad you like it," he replies and presses send.

Before he forgets to ask it, he composes a new text.

"Have you tried it on?"

"Yes."

"And it fits?"

"Want to see?" You ask back instead of confirming whether it fits or not.

But you're offering him a visual aid and he absolutely can't say no to this. Heck, he would love just to see your shadow.

"With pleasure," he replies and bites his lower lip so hard that it turns white 

You send him a picture and he quickly opens it, it's the lower half of your body with the skirt on and it amazes him that it fits you so perfectly, he did make a good choice.

Then you send another picture and it comes unexpectedly, he opens it to see you wearing nothing but the skirt.

It's clear that you're taking the picture yourself since you took it through the reflection in the mirror but you know how to tease him, how to get him going, and to make him crave you.

It takes him a minute to admire the picture you send him and another minute to compose a reply.

"Now that you do that, you know what will happen, right?"

Instead of answering him, you send him a video and he couldn't be faster to open it.

The video only lasts for a few seconds, it's you lifting the hem of the skirt to show him the white underwear you're wearing under. The fabric is so flimsy he can see right through and see the thing he craves the most.

"Come and cause trouble!" You send a text after the video.

It's like he's back on that night when he was drunk and being enticed by your tight, little skirt but he would never regret clicking send on those messages.

He's on his senses now, trying to make a good choice, he licks his lips before typing a reply to you.

"Aren't you the troublemaker?"

"You will be the end of me!" He adds, then paces around his room to get dressed. He's aware of how much of a fool he is for you, just pictures of you in a skirt and you got him wrapped in your little finger. Did he mind though? Not at all.

He stops by the threshold to send another text for you, "I'm coming." 

-

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[toiletwipes]

Don't you see me? | ghost!wilbur

~1.9k words / hi hi hello this a piece written for @lillylvjy 's ghost au! There's only one part out but we've all had the rot since then and I couldn't help myself. [You move into a house and meet two ghosts who haunt it; Wilbur and Tom. You've endeared yourself to them. And now, you've bought a polaroid camera just so they have something of the two of them and you, in the event you ever move out. Written mostly in Wilbur's pov so emotions are on the raw side.]

[Title is from the song Fallingforyou by the 1975]

~

Wilbur's time nowadays is spent waiting for you and with you. (Of course, Tom is there so he's not completely lonely, but he's always had Tom. He used to never have you- used to live an after-life without you in it.) It wasn't always like that, of course, but you moved in and everything changed. For the better, he firmly believed. You made things better. For Tom, for him. You pulled the both of them into your life, even when they had anything but. Even when it was a painful fact. You brought joy and peace and laughter and the sun and the stars with you and he can't help the clenching in his chest, the way you smiled and he felt what it could be like breathless again.

Things changed for the better. And he couldn't help the way he wanted to cling to your side and never leave you alone, except he could do something about it. Sometimes he'd back off for days, feeling like he suffocates you more than he can handle. Other days he'd be a second skin- not that you'd ever complain. You never complained, not really, not when it came to him. But today…

But today's different. You had a day off and decided to stay home, turning on some music and pulling out a puzzle, the end picture being a pretty garden of flowers. You were so concentrated and he wanted to smooth out the crease in your forehead but he breathed out silently, flexing his hands as he turned to the windows. You're not his to touch like that.

Something catches his eye from the outside. Because as he was turning around to look out the window, a car drove up and left a box on the porch. And with his predicament, he moved a little too late and Tom was already calling for you to get it and open it, tell them what it was. But you stayed quiet as you ducked under arms, dancing away from Tom's prying hands. You land backwards on the couch, cradling the box as you adjust yourself, laughing to yourself a little.

Wilbur comes away from the window and he approaches the couch, leaning close to you as you fail to open it, giving him puppy eyes as you look up with the box in your palms. "Can't even open a box by yourself, how cringe. Where would you be without-" He'd been in the middle of teasing you when he'd opened the box, finding a polaroid camera, already put together with some extra film at the bottom, "-us?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about the other day, you know. I was thinking about giving you some of my baby photos but I figured it'd be better if you guys had pictures of yourselves and some of us together-" you rambled on, pausing to take a picture of Tom, who is literally snapped out of his silence by the sound of the camera printing out.

"What the hell, there's not even anything on it-" he complains but after you explain to him that he has to shake it a little for the picture to develop faster, he's shaking it as violently as one can shake a polaroid.

Wilbur can't say anything, he's surprised that you went this far and you stare at him, biting your lip before you move abruptly, turning the camera on you two and taking the picture with him and you in it. The picture prints and as you shake the picture, you show Wilbur how to take a picture. And when you do, he doesn't hesitate to take one of just you, laughing as Tom curses again. The laughter dies down as the camera prints for the third time, as Tom wields the picture hanging his head.

A blurry figure with no discernable features in your living room. The living room itself is clear. But Tom is blurry. The only blurry thing in the picture. Panic rises in your chest as you check the two polaroids in your hand, and sure enough, out of the three of you, you're the only clear person in the pictures. "I- I'm so sorry, I thought- if I could see you guys then surely I could-" but Wilbur knows the line of thinking you're going down. He ends it right there, pulling you into a quick, tight hug.

"I know." And he hears the shaky breath you release, struggling to breathe through tears he knows you're fighting back. Once you pull back from the hug, he takes the picture of you out from your fingers in a light tug, looking at it more closely. "I think this may be my favorite picture of you, yet." You roll your eyes as you laugh wetly, wiping under your eyes.

Tom then demands to know how the camera works and we'll you give in pretty easily and soon, the day is spent with everyone finding pretty things, pretty bugs and pretty pictures to take and Tom takes the one of the stray cat from outside, of the sunset over the fence, and a circle of three pairs of shoes. Two are blurry but you drew the details on so it's clearer. He hangs them by the window.

Wilbur doesn't show anyone the pictures he takes because they're all of you. You when you're cooking dinner, stirring a pot. One when you were looking out the window with a hand under your chin. While you were outside checking on the plants you've planted while you've been staying here. With the sun on your face. While you were reading a book he recommended you.

He didn't want a picture of anything else, not when you were just so damn amazing. Beautiful and caring and full of surprises. How can he ignore you at all when you devote your time to be his friend, to be there for him and his brother? When all he can think about these days, is you and you only?

He can't imagine the day you move out, if you move out. But he knows that if you leave, he'd  stare at these pictures for the rest of his afterlife.

Even when you apologize again in private, about the pictures and the two of them not showing up, he shushes you. Reassuring you it's okay. The camera sits with Tom and his own set of pictures. The film he has of you and only you burns in his pocket, and it burns against his chest when he pulls you into a quick hug. "I mean it when I say this is more than I could ever ask of you. I appreciate what you've done for us." What you've done for me, he adds silently.

He'd stare at them now, but you were getting ready for bed and you were deep in thought and equally tired. So quiet. You tucked your back against the wall as you lowered the volume on the TV in your room, but he hesitated getting in bed with you. He wants more than anything to hold you, to kiss those bitten lips and bruise them with his own. He wants more than anything to feel your warmth and never let it leave.

However, he is cold. You needed the blanket to keep the warmth in because of how much he made you shiver without it. He is dead. He's sure kissing a dead man isn't the focal point of your romantic dreams. Sure that you'd puke at the thought of it but when you warily open your eyes to find him in the doorway, you tell him to close the door behind him and get in bed.

He thought about his earlier inhibitions of being close, of being too much for you. And throws it out a metaphorical window. For now. Because for now, you want him in your bed. And he'd do anything for you.

He climbs into your bed, letting you pull the covers over his shoulders and lean your face back into your pillow. His fingers twitch between the two of you. He can't fall asleep, watching you slip under the blanket of sleep. When your breath evens out, when he can feel your heart beating softly in your chest, that's when he speaks.

"Love, what you did today- I don't know how I can thank you. It meant a lot for Tom, and I know he loves the camera and the pictures more than the both of us but- for you to do this, to give us this. Words can't explain the gratitude I feel. I know one day, you'll have to leave us, and I won't be able to say these words out when you're awake so you'll never know truly how I feel, the… emotions that are so close to bursting, when I'm around you." He wants to say more. Wants to say just what's on his mind. But you're stirring, the crease coming in between your eyebrows again, and then your face relaxes as you sigh.

"Are you still awake, Wilbur?" You ask without opening your eyes. He murmurs a yes, feeling more as if he was plunged in a bath of ice. "Can you turn the fan off?" And just quickly, relief and a tang of disappointment warms his cold system. He turns the fan off like you asked and you reach for him as soon as he's under the blankets again. "Much better, thank you." And you tuck yourself closer to him, as if seeking for warmth. He can't say anything else, just taking the chance and wrapping you up in his arms. Hating the way you'd let out the occasional shiver.

He can't help being a ghost, being dead. He can't help the feelings he has. The ones about you and the ones about you leaving. It hurts every time he thinks about it, you leaving. You finding someone else. Leaving him behind. And in the end, he'd thank you. For being as generous, as kind, as- as loving as you were to him and to Tom. He doesn't know what to do with these thoughts, these feelings.

Towards the end of the night, when it seemed like the sun was about to rise, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. And in his head, he finally figures out what he feels for you. "Thank you." He says into the air. He's not sure who he's thanking or what for. But you hum into his clothed collar bone.

"You're welcome." His arms wrap themselves tighter around you, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He knows soon he'll have to let you out of his arms and that one day he'd have to let you go and move out and forget about him. But for now. For now, he can pretend you want this, that you want him and his brother in your life, forever, and that you want whatever he has to offer. That you wanted him.

And it's enough for his eyes to mist over but no tears fall down. And they never will.

[nar-nia]

decorating

jake x reader

word count: ~1k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy

~~~

“It's beginning to look a lot like christmas…” Jake was quietly singing along to the song on the radio as he rummaged through some cardboard boxes. You did the same, occasionally stealing glances of the smile on his face as he looked at item after item, placing some on the ground.

“I almost forgot about that!” His exciting voice made you look up at him again. He was holding a little snow globe, excitedly jumping over to you. “Remember? I gave it to you on-”

“Our third date,” you finished his sentence. “I do remember.”

“I was so nervous I almost let it fall,” he chuckled. “I can't believe it's already been six years since then.”

“Neither can I.” You smiled, softly shaking the little snow globe as you watched the snow dancing around. “But I think I knew I wanted you in my life right there.”

Jakes face was lit up by a broad smile, eyes sparkling with happiness as he pulled you closer, his lips connecting with your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you most.” You left a few kisses on his wrist before you hesitantly let go to divert your attention back to the box in front of you. “We haven't even started decorating and already got cheesy.”

“Oh and it will only get worse!” Jake declared, hopping back to his own box of christmas decorations. “I can't wait for it.”

You almost had to forcefully remove your eyes from looking at your husband to focus on the task at hand: decorating your home for christmas.

“A lot has happened since then too,” he spoke up after a while again. “We came far.“

“We did.” You started smiling again. “We got married, got a house…”

“Got a family.”

“You’ve always been my family.” You felt yourself tear up a bit. “Didn't we want to decorate?”

“Six years and you still try to change the subject when you're about to cry,” he smiled. “Let me help you then.”

He went back over to you, simply bringing his cardboard box along. Sitting down he grabbed your hand, his thumb drawing soft circles on it, while he used his other to hold up some items he found.

“Will we put up the Christmas village again?”

“Hmm...” You hesitated. “I would love that but last year Layla almost destroyed it.”

“I still don't know what made her so angry,” Jake chuckled. “Maybe the porcelain cat you put there?”

“Maybe.” You brought his hand up, pressing another small kiss onto it. “Let's just place it somewhere high enough this time.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“You're perfect,” you grinned, making an attempt to stand up.

“Ah ah,” Jake shook his head. “Let me help you with that. No hard work for you.”

“I just want to get up, Jake. As far as I know you can still do that while pregnant.” You couldn't hold back a laugh, but somehow you kept sitting down.

“We wouldn't want to risk it.” He grinned at you, grabbing both of your hands to pull you up. You didn't have the heart to tell him that this made it even harder to get up, because eventually you still managed and were standing on your own two feet.

“Tell me again why we didn't just sit down on the couch?”

“Because you complained that our little baby boy won't let you bend down to grab a box from the floor.”

“... Maybe.” You grinned back. “But I have you for that.”

“Yes you do, my love.” He pulled you closer for a soft kiss before he looked at you expectantly. Your heart started fluttering when he did, love threatening to overwhelm you. “So what do you want me to do.”

Oh right - you had a house to decorate.

“Uhm…” You tried to gather your thoughts. “The Christmas village.”

“Right,” he smiled. “Let me start with that.”

Another kiss on your cheek and he diverted his attention to a small plank of wood. He had built it two years ago, decorating it with fake snow so you had the perfect underground for the tiny porcelain houses. They were gifts from your grandparents, every year there was a new edition, and he still remembered the moment he made you that piece of wood. You had gotten lots of presents that day, but this somehow made you the happiest - and in return, him too.

He carefully set everything up on a bookshelf, making sure that Layla couldn't reach it while listening to your orders. It was a peaceful atmosphere, both of you enjoying the way your home got more and more in the Christmas spirit. After the little village he put up some Christmas lights, softly humming along to the songs on the radio again.

“A bit higher,” you smiled, hands motioning how you wanted the lights to be. “To the left!”

You were silent for a second before the giggle you had tried to hold in finally broke free. “The other left, Jake.”

“Oh.” With your help he managed to hang it up just in time when it got slowly dark outside. “Should we light it up?”

You nodded, eyes sparkling in awe when you saw the final result. “It's so pretty.”

“Almost as pretty as you, love,” Jake mumbled, stepping next to you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer towards him as his lips connected with your temple. “Now it feels like Christmas.”

“Oh- almost!” You almost flinched, getting out of Jakes embrace to rush into the kitchen. “I can't believe I almost forgot about it.”

“About what?” Jake followed you as you grabbed two mugs from the shelf, filling it with something he couldn't see before you warmed it up.

"Hot chocolate!” You turned around with a grin, holding one mug towards your husband. “It fits perfectly, don't you think?”

His face was lit up by a smile as he grabbed the mug from you, his other arm wrapping around your waist again. “Everything about this is perfect.”

He felt your head on his shoulder as you both looked at the room, now tinted in a beautiful golden shine. “I love you.”

Jake softly pressed his lips against your hair, his eyes closing for a second to take it all in. “I love you most.”

~~~

yup, it's really me 🙈 i went missing for so long but wow, life can be exhausting sometimes. especially if your job requires you to get up at 1am. anyway, i hope you liked this little start to a christmas series. if yes (and if no) feedback is always appreciated 🩷

find the other stories here.

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