#do you know how long it took to paste this here

[inkandapex]

tides of change

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : Lando and Y/N’s not so situationship had become the talk of everyone around them. It was clear to everyone but the two of them that their connection was something worth fighting for. The question on everyone’s lips: When will Lando finally stop holding back and risk it all?

Words : 4.1k

Warnings : swearing, mentions of sex, poorly translated french

It was a rainy day in Monaco, the kind of weather that made everything feel a little slower. The usual buzz of the city was muffled by the constant drizzle, and the three friends—Lando, Max, and Charles—found themselves on a paddle court, looking for a way to pass the time during their break.

Sweaty and winded from their last round, the trio stood around, sipping on drinks, exchanging small talk about the upcoming season. Max, ever the competitive one, wiped his brow with a towel, giving Lando a smirk. "I think you might be getting worse, mate."

Charles finally looks up from his phone after being preoccupied for the past few minutes. "Lando, Y/N is here?"

"Yeah, she got in last morning. Why?" Lando nods, still catching his breath from the last game.

Charles grins and pockets his phone. "Alex just texted me—she just found out today. You should invite her to join us on the yacht. It's supposed to be a clear day tomorrow."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Who else is coming?"

"Couple of other friends, Carlos and Rebecca too."

Lando smirks, glancing over at Max. "Max?"

"Nah, mate," Max chimes in, wiping his face with a towel. "Don't think being out at sea would help with Kelly's morning sickness." He laughs lightly, clearly trying to keep the mood light, but there’s a genuine care in his tone.

Lando’s grin softens, and he nods. "Fair enough. I’ll let Y/N know then."

"Speaking of which... what's ugh, going on with you two? Finally asked her out?" Max smirks, leaning back against the wall.

A small smirk crept up on Lando’s face, but he quickly took a swig from his bottle, picking up his racket as if the question never happened. "Are we playing another round or what?"

"Well, that’s a clear no," Charles laughs, crossing his arms.

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. "You idiot, how long has this situationship been a thing for now? Two seasons?"

Lando freezes for a second, then points a finger at Max. "First of all, don’t ever use ‘situationship’ again. Sounds weird coming from you." He shrugs nonchalantly. "And... we’re just friends."

Charles snickers. "Friends who kiss every now and then—"

Max jumps in. "And sleep together."

Lando's eyes widen slightly. "Hey, that’s not—"

"So you haven’t?" Max presses, his grin growing.

Lando bites his lip, trying to hide the grin spreading across his face. He glances at Charles, who’s trying to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, they definitely have," Charles chimes in, his voice teasing.

Lando glares at them, but it’s no use—he can’t help the flush creeping up his neck. "Alright, alright, enough."

"I've had a couple of friends ask me about her, mate." Charles pats Lando’s shoulder before casually walking back to his side of the court. "Come on, one more before we head home."

Lando blinks. "Wha— Which friends?" His grip tightens slightly on his racket, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

Charles exchanges a knowing look with Max, the kind that screams look at this idiot, so oblivious. Max just smirks.

"Doesn't matter who" Charles shrugs, stretching his arms as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. "Just thought I’d let you know. Do with the information as you will."

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning slightly. His mind is already racing through the possibilities, but before he can press further, Max serves the ball, forcing him to refocus.

But even as they dive back into the game, the thought lingers.

------------------------------------------------------

The sound of Lando's keys hitting the table broke Y/N's gaze from the screen in front of her. She glanced over to see him standing by the door, bag still slung over his shoulder, hair slightly damp from a mix of sweat and rain.

"How was paddle with Max and Charles?" she asked, shifting her focus back to the movie playing in front of her.

"Good. Max lost, of course." Lando smirked, toeing off his shoes before flopping down beside her. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. "Hey, uhm— you busy tomorrow?"

"Mmm, not really. Kinda wanted to walk around and shop for a bit. Why, what's up?"

Lando ran a hand through his damp curls. "Charles is inviting us on his yacht tomorrow with Alex and a couple of their friends. Carlos and Rebecca are coming too, I heard."

Y/N hummed in thought, eyes still on the screen, but Lando barely noticed. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he forced himself to sound casual. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous—he was just inviting his best friend to hang out with their other friends. They all knew each other already.

So why did it feel like something more?

"Sure, yeah, that actually sounds fun. Haven’t seen them in a while," Y/N said, shooting Lando a soft smile.

Relieved, Lando let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He barely had time to react before Y/N’s fingers slid through his damp curls, her touch light and familiar.

"You should shower," she murmured. "You’re gonna get sick."

Lando smirked, tilting his head just enough to press a featherlight kiss to her wrist. "Join me?"

Y/N laughed, gently but firmly pushing his head away. "Dork. We both said no more, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah… I tried," he chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. As he passed, he reached down to poke her cheek, grinning when she swatted at his hand.

It was true—what Charles and Max suspected. They’d kissed. And, yeah, they’d definitely slept together. More than once. But somewhere along the way, between shared hotel rooms, late-night confessions, and stolen moments, they both agreed that this—whatever this was—couldn’t be more. Not now. Not when Lando was constantly on the move, when their friendship was the one thing they both swore they’d never risk.

So they stayed just that—friends.

At least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Cabrón! It's been too long! Have you grown taller?" Carlos' voice rang out, loud enough to make nearly everyone aboard the yacht turn their heads.

Lando laughed, shaking his head as he walked over. "You muppet, I saw you last week." He pulled Carlos into a quick hug before stepping back and motioning toward Y/N, who stood just behind him. "Look who I brought."

Carlos' face lit up. "Ahh… mi novia’s novia. Good to see you, Y/N." Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug, rocking her slightly for dramatic effect.

Before she could fully recover, Charles appeared beside them, grinning as he leaned in to greet her with a cheek kiss. "She's also my girlfriend’s girlfriend," he added, giving Lando a teasing look.

"Y/N is the nation's girlfriend," Carlos announced, laughing as he patted her shoulder. Then, with a wicked smirk, he leaned toward Lando, lowering his voice just enough.

"Except yours."

Lando rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose, but the warmth creeping up his neck betrayed him. Carlos just smirked wider.

"Too much testosterone. Where are my ladies?" Y/N teased, glancing around the deck in search of her friends.

"Oh, they're inside getting changed," Charles said, nodding toward the doors leading into the yacht.

"Perfect. I’ll see you boys later then." She gave them a small wave before heading off, disappearing through the doors with an easy grace.

Lando’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure, something he wasn’t even aware of until he heard the soft chuckles beside him. He turned to find Carlos and Charles exchanging a knowing look before shaking their heads in amusement.

"What now?" Lando sighed, already bracing himself.

"I just don’t get it," Charles said, crossing his arms. "I really don’t."

"Get what?"

Carlos exhaled dramatically, giving Lando a pointed look. "Why you like punishing yourself like this. Like a fucking sadist."

Charles nodded in agreement. "You clearly like each other."

Lando shook his head, sliding his sunglasses on as if they could shield him from the conversation. "Not that simple."

"Oh, but it is," Carlos countered, arms crossed. "It’s not like you haven’t been in a relationship before, so I know for a fact it’s not commitment issues on your end."

Charles tilted his head. "She doesn’t want to?"

"It’s not that." Lando exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It just… doesn’t work. We've tried"

Carlos narrowed his eyes. "Tried what, exactly?"

Lando hesitated, jaw tightening slightly. "Just the whole distance thing. Me being away all the time. And then there’s the hate she’s gonna get when people find out. I can’t do that to her." His voice was quieter now, but firm. "She’s already getting shit just for being friends with me."

Charles and Carlos exchanged a look, their teasing fading into something more serious. For all the jokes, they knew Lando wasn’t just making excuses. But still, Carlos shook his head with a sigh.

"You know, if you ever stop being an idiot, I think she’d be worth it."

Lando huffed a small, almost bitter laugh. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."

"If not, I mean, I got friends that are interested," Charles shrugged, all casual, but the glint in his eye said otherwise.

Lando chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness in his voice. "See, you keep saying that, but I think you're just doing it to provoke me."

Charles smirked but stayed silent.

Carlos, however, turned to him with a knowing look. "Who? Luca?"

Charles' brows lifted in surprise before he gave Carlos an approving nod. "Yeah."

Lando’s expression shifted in an instant. His sunglasses did nothing to hide the way his jaw clenched. "Who the fuck is Luca?"

"Like I said… a friend," Charles smirked, enjoying this way too much.

"Don’t fuck with me right now, Leclerc." Lando’s head snapped around as he scanned the yacht, shoulders growing visibly tense. "He’s here?"

Carlos chuckled, clapping a hand on Lando’s back. "Calm down, cabrón. Y/N is available, no?"

Lando shot him a glare before rolling his eyes. "You two are dicks."

Charles and Carlos only laughed, sharing a look before Carlos added, "Just saying, if you don’t want her to be, maybe do something about it."

-----------------------------------------------------------

The yacht had sailed further into the open ocean, the hours melting away in a blur of sun, salt, and laughter. Everyone had split into their own little group, swimming, chatting, drinking. But as lunchtime rolled around, they all gathered around the spread of food laid out on deck.

Y/N sat at a smaller table in the corner with Rebecca and Alex, the three of them deep in conversation. Lando strolled over, wordlessly setting a small pouch in front of her along with a glass of water.

"Medicine’s in there. Take one, okay?" He gave her head a light pat before turning on his heel and walking off to grab some food for himself, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rebecca and Alex exchanged confused looks, both raising an eyebrow as they glanced between Y/N and the small pouch Lando had left behind. Neither of them knew what he meant by "medicine," and the whole exchange seemed a bit mysterious.

Y/N noticed their concerned gazes and let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. She pulled out a row of antihistamine pills from the pouch, holding them up. "Sometimes shellfish makes my allergies act up. It’s really nothing too serious, but it’s better not to risk it."

Alex’s expression softened in understanding, though she still looked a little taken aback. "Ah, makes sense," she nodded, her voice light "And of course... Lando is on top of it"

Rebecca let's out a soft laugh as she shakes her head "You're just as oblivious as he is you know, it's cute and funny at the same time"

"Guys... come on. We agreed to not talk about this"

Rebecca nods and holds her hands up in surrender "Mhmm alright, we'll let you figure it out on your own"

"What are you girls gossiping about this time huh?" Carlos walks over with Lando and Charles, plates of food and drinks in hand as their took their respective seats around the table

"Nothing you boys need to worry about," Alex smiles.

"Ah, donc rien à voir avec le fait que quelqu'un nie ses vrais sentiments pour quelqu'un, hein ?" Charles tilts his head, looking over at Y/N as he takes a bite of his food (Ah, so it has nothing to do with anyone denying their true feelings for someone, huh?)

"Espèce de bâtard sournois, Alex t'en a parlé ?" Y/N’s mouth dropped open, her eyes flicking between the two of them. (You sneaky bastard, did Alex tell you?)

"Non ! Je jure que je n'ai rien dit !" Alex quickly defended herself. (No! I swear I didn't say anything!)

"S'il vous plaît, c'est tellement évident. Je pense que tout le monde peut le dire rien qu'en vous regardant tous les deux," Charles smirked, making Alex chuckle beside him as she nodded her head in agreement, while the rest of the table fell into conversations of their own. (Please, it's so obvious. I think everyone can tell just by looking at the two of you)

"Il a pété un câble quand je lui ai dit qu’un pote était intéressé par toi. Tu sais que les potes normaux réagissent pas comme ça, hein ?" Charles goes on, raising an eyebrow as he watches Y/N’s reaction. (He freaked out when I told him a friend was interested in you. You know normal friends don't react like that, right?)

Y/N simply shakes her head and continues to eat, it wasn't until Charles continues to egg on his theory

"Il ne comprend pas un mot de ce que je dis, mais regarde ça." Charles straightens up, a mischievous glint in his eyes as if preparing to prove a point. "Tout ce que j’ai à faire, c’est dire le nom de Luca, et ça attire son attention." (He doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, but look at this.) (All I have to do is say Luca's name, and it gets his attention)

Right on cue, Lando’s head whips around, his conversation forgotten as his ears latch onto the familiar name. Confusion flickers across his face, caught completely off guard by the sudden mention.

"Dickhead" Y/N mutters with a laugh, shaking her head as she stands up, plate in hand, and makes her way toward the buffet table for more food.

Lando is on his feet almost instantly, trailing after her without a second thought. Whatever she and Charles were talking about, he needs to know.

"So, he told you about Luca, huh?" Lando leans against the table, arms crossed as he watches her pick through the food. His voice is casual—too casual.

Y/N sighs, shaking her head. Charles really wasn’t exaggerating. Of course Lando took the bait. "Lan, he was just fucking with you."

His eyes narrow slightly. "So you're not at all interested in this Luca guy?"

She pauses, glancing at him with a teasing smirk. "What if I was?"

Lando blinks at her, completely dumbfounded. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as he tries to process what he just heard. "What do you mean?"

Y/N shrugs, casually placing a piece of food on her plate. "What if I was interested? What’s it to you?" She glances at him, eyes challenging. "Like you said, we’re just friends, remember?"

His stomach twists uncomfortably. That is what he said. But suddenly, he’s not so sure he meant it.

Y/N simply tuts, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she brushes past him. As she does, her fingers trail lightly along his arm, the touch barely there but enough to send a spark straight through him.

"Just something to think about," she murmurs before walking away, leaving Lando standing there—plate forgotten, mind racing, and heart pounding just a little too fast.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Lando lounged on a sunbed, sunglasses on, deep in conversation with Carlos when Rebecca’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Looking good, Y/N! That set is gorgeous on you!”

Mid-sentence, Lando sat up slightly, resting on his elbows as his gaze searched for her.

And then he saw her.

Not just in any bikini—no, a papaya one. His colour. He almost swore she wore it just for him.

Lando barely had time to recover from the way Y/N’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine before she sat beside him, all sweet smiles and knowing eyes. He saw right through her. She was playing with him, enjoying the way she had him wrapped around her finger.

And damn, was it working.

Before he could say anything, Charles strolled by, some guy trailing behind him.

“Y/N, this is my friend Luca. He’s been asking non-stop about you. Thought it was time I introduce the two of you.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, fingers twitching against the sunbed. You have got to be kidding me.

Y/N stood to greet Luca, and the guy wasted no time leaning in for a cheek kiss. Normally, Lando wouldn’t care—his friends did it all the time. But this? Some random guy he didn’t know? Absolutely not.

“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard such great things,” Luca said with a grin. “I see you around a lot, just… not with the right team.”

Lando’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

Y/N laughed. “Ah, yeah! I’ve seen you with Charles and Alex a few times.”

“So how long are you in Monaco this time? For good, I hope?”

“I wish. This place is amazing, but I have to go back to England next week—work calls. I’ll be back by the end of the month, though.”

Luca smiled. “Then we have some time to go out before you leave?”

Lando sat up fully, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head. Was this some kind of sick joke? Asking her out—right in front of him? His blood boiled.

No. Absolutely not.

Lando didn’t even hesitate. “Actually, no, we’re busy. Got plans this week.”

Carlos, instantly catching on, barely held in his laughter—though his girlfriend didn’t bother hiding her amusement, giving him a light slap on the arm.

Y/N turned to Lando, eyebrows raised. “We do?”

“Yep,” he answered smoothly, leaning back like he hadn’t just pulled that excuse out of thin air. “Max and P are coming over to stay with us, remember? Got some activities lined up. Sorry, mate.”

The only problem? Now he actually had to find things to do and start booking these non-existent activities.

Luca frowned slightly. “Oh—well… when you come back from England, then?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N started, “I’ll ask Charles for your—”

“Naaah,” Lando cut in again, shaking his head. “Doesn’t work either, mate. We’re heading to Italy when she gets back.”

Y/N blinked. “We are?”

“Yes. Was supposed to be a surprise. Surprise!” Lando shot her a grin, ignoring the way Carlos was now openly laughing beside him.

Just off to the side, Charles leaned toward Alex, voice low. "S'il vous plaît, laissez-moi le sortir de sa misère." (Please let me put him out of his misery.)

Luca could only laugh, shaking his head as he held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, got it, mate. All yours.”

Lando didn’t bother hiding his smirk, satisfied with the outcome.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, dragging Lando toward a quieter part of the yacht, away from prying eyes. His smug smirk only made her more irritated.

“What the fuck was that, Norris?” she snapped, arms crossed.

Lando barely flinched, still grinning. “What, you don’t wanna go to Italy? Greece more your style? Oh! How about Ibiza—”

She didn’t let him finish, landing a solid punch to his arm.

“Ow!” Lando winced, clutching his arm. “Forgot how strong you are.”

“Stop playing with me. I know there’s no Italy trip.”

“There is!”

“Bullshit.”

He exhaled, dropping the act. “Fine! I just… You can’t go out with him, Y/N.”

Her expression softened for a moment before tilting her head, arms still crossed. “And why’s that?”

Lando ran a hand through his curls, avoiding her gaze for a second before finally meeting her eyes.

“That’s so unfair, Lando, and you know it,” Y/N shot back, arms tightening over her chest. “You’ve gone out with other girls, and you didn’t hear shit from me.”

“No—that’s different,” Lando argued, shaking his head.

“Oh, it is different,” she scoffed. “Because I haven’t been sleeping around with other people since what happened between us.”

His eyes widened. “But I haven’t!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit—do you want me to drop names?”

Lando opened his mouth, then shut it just as fast. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Alright, fine.”

“Doesn’t mean I have feelings for them,” he added quickly, voice softer this time.

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Awe, how fucking romantic.”

Lando felt his stomach drop. The teasing, the back-and-forth—it all came to a screeching halt the second Y/N let her emotions slip through.

She sank onto the sofa, fingers threading through her hair, exhaling like she was tired—tired of him, tired of this.

“We can’t keep doing this, Lan,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “This whole ordeal is fucking exhausting. If you really want this, you can have me. But you can’t just want some of it. Take all of it. The good and the bad.”

She finally looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “I can’t stand having just some of you. I need all of you.”

Lando swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs. Because the truth was, she already had all of him. Always had. He just needed to say it.

Lando dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gently finding hers, squeezing them with a tenderness that spoke louder than words ever could.

“Hey… pretty girl, look at me, please?” he whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but despite herself, her gaze met his. The rawness in his eyes caught her off guard. For the first time in a long while, she saw him again—the guy she fell so deeply in love with, the man she’d been willing to risk everything for.

“You have all of me,” Lando said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I promise… we’ll make it work. I’ll make this work. You deserve the world, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you... if you’d give me another chance.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but a quiet part of her still hesitated. It felt too good to be true. But his words… his honesty? It was enough to break through.

Y/N took a slow breath, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. There was none.

Slowly, she squeezed his hands back. “You better not make me regret this, Lando.”

Lando nodded almost immediately, his eyes lighting up with a joy so pure it made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “I promise,” he said, voice full of conviction. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll do things right this time.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her emotions swirling as she processed his words. After a beat, she gave him a small, hesitant nod.

Without another word, Lando pulled her into his arms, locking her in a tight embrace. The way he held her felt urgent, like he was afraid of losing her again. They clung to each other as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if nothing mattered but this moment.

“I know we said to take things slow… but I’m dying to kiss you right now,” Lando murmured against her neck, his breath warm and shaky.

The words made Y/N laugh softly, her fingers tracing the side of his jaw as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs gently grazing his skin, before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It was slow, a kiss that held all the passion, all the longing they’d kept buried. The world outside disappeared as they lost themselves in each other, the kiss a promise of what was to come.

Lando was the first to pull away, chuckling softly as he did. “We can’t… I don’t think I can control myself if we keep going.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her heart racing from the kiss. She placed one last soft kiss on his cheek before pulling him back into another hug, as if holding him was the only thing that could steady her.

"Greece sounds good..." she muttered quietly, her words almost lost in the moment.

Lando pulled away slightly, brows furrowed as he looked at her, not quite catching what she said. “What was that, baby?”

“Greece,” Y/N repeated with a smile tugging at her lips. “I said Greece sounds good.”

Lando’s face lit up with a grin, the tension in his chest easing as he nodded. “Greece it is. Anything for my girl.”

[connorsui]

╰┈➤˗ˏˋ. "You were going to ...save me?"

141 task force x fem! reader

₊⊹⁀➴ there's this one scene from "the suicide squad" where Flagg takes it upon himself to save Harley Quinn, and I couldn't help but imagine that entire sequence happening with all the 141 doing the same for us♡

This was supposed to be a rescue mission.

Tactical entry. Controlled aggression. Get in, neutralize threats, and get you the hell out. Standard procedure.

But reality? Reality had... a sense of humor.

Ghost spotted you first, stepping out of the warehouse like you’d just finished a coffee break instead of—well. Whatever the fuck just happened in there.

You were drenched. Blood soaked through your gear, congealing in thick streaks down your arms, dripping from your chin, pooling at the base of your throat. It had seeped into the seams of your gloves, sticky between your fingers, darkening the fabric of your pants and boots until you reeked of copper and gunpowder. It clung to you in handprints that weren’t yours, in splattered patterns across your jaw, in a slow rivulet curling down your temple, almost elegant in its descent.

And behind you? The warehouse was silent. Corpses littered the floor in ruinous heaps, bodies torn apart with surgical precision. Walls, once stark and industrial, were streaked in crimson. The air was thick with the scent of burnt gunpowder, metal, and death.

For the first time in a long time, your team didn’t quite know what to say.

The blood still hadn’t dried on your face when you tilted your head, blinking at them like you hadn’t just obliterated an entire battalion single-handedly. Then, with a small, almost amused smile—

“What are you guys doing?”

Silence.

Soap let out a breath. Gaz dragged a hand down his face. Price didn’t move.

Ghost’s grip on his rifle didn’t ease.

Then, finally— “…We were here to save you.”

Gaz’s voice was careful, measured, like he wasn’t quite sure what reality he was operating in anymore.

You looked between them, brows raising. “Save... me?” You gestured vaguely to yourself, fingers still slick with blood. “You were going to save me?”

Ghost, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. “It was a very good plan, too.”

That’s what did it—Soap huffed out a breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Fucking christ, bonnie. What the hell happened in there?”

You exhaled, rolling out the tension in your shoulders, glancing back at the bodies cooling behind you. “Well..I didnt think you guys were actually going to come!?"

Price’s gaze was sharp, unreadable. “How many?”

You considered that, tipping your head. The blood was starting to dry on your skin, crackling slightly as you flexed your fingers. “I lost count after the last guy...so maybeeee twenty?, I think it was twenty? But, I know for sure it was a lot... more.”

Gaz looked at you, then at the bodies, then back at you. He gestured vaguely. “And you didn’t think to radio in?”

You gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I didn’t wanna be ruuude?.”

Ghost made a sound—something between a sigh and a chuckle. Price pinched the bridge of his nose like this was giving him a migraine. Soap peered past you, lips parting slightly as he took in the sheer fucking carnage.

“...You did leave one alive, yeah?”

A pause.

You blinked. “Oh...Oh waaait”

Gaz let out a low groan, looking up at the sky like it might give him strength.

Price sighed through his nose, adjusting his stance. “We’re leaving.”

You fell in step beside them, still trailing blood like a second shadow. The air between you all was heavy, thick with disbelief and something close to exasperation.

"So... does this mean I still get a dramatic rescue next time, or did I just waste my one freebie?"

Soap snorted. "Next time, just let us know when you've already killed everybody."

You smirked, shaking the blood off your hands, letting it splatter against the dirt. The scent of it curled in your nose, rich and sharp, staining the air around you. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”

And then, before anyone could react, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Soap.

He stiffened for half a second, tension laced through his frame like a coiled wire—then one hand slid up your back, firm and warm, the other still gripping his gun.

Blood smeared across his vest as he let out a slow breath, fingers pressing lightly against your spine. Careful. Measured. The weight of the rifle in his other hand was a stark contrast to the slow, absentminded way he caressed your back, like grounding himself against something visceral, something real.

"You're a fuckin’ menace," he muttered against your hair, but his touch was steady, voice softer than it should’ve been.

You grinned against his shoulder, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath layers of Kevlar and sweat. “Yeeeaaah, but you loooove meeee”

Soap exhaled sharply, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

Behind you, Ghost just shook his head. Price sighed. Gaz muttered something under his breath about "absolute fucking lunatic."

You hummed in amusement, blood still dripping from your clothes as you looked up at him with a soft smile.

[madamechrissy]

Fratboy Gojo

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

More headcanons from Took you Like a Shot - these are extra scenes set after chapter 2, but can be read alone- MDNI- explicit - whipped, longing Gojo- phone sexm, masturbation (Satoru and reader) dirty talk, fluffy ass cuteness, Satoru whimpers, lots of feelings -other headcanons here

Fratboy Gojo should be enjoying his trip with his best friends, but it's getting depressing, even on the cruise to the fucking Bahamas, shouldn't he be having the time of his life? His eyes don't even give anyone attention, how could he when he knows you're back home, pregnant- fuck have you changed in the past couple weeks?

Fratboy Gojo decides not to go out with his friends that night and stay in their suite himself, staring at the phone and contemplating for just a moment before he gives in, calling you. 'Hey Gojo' you say softly, sleep in your voice, making him ache. 'Hey sweetheart, were you asleep?' he hears your yawn, smiling like a lovesick idiot. He guesses that's what he is. 'No, just reading' 'ya reading that smut?' you giggle now 'mmhmm'

Fratboy Gojo hears your little sigh, driving him insane with need, just hearing it makes him hard, throbbing under his boxers while he lays sprawled in the giant, fancy suite that feels empty without you. 'Ya miss me brat?' you scoff now. 'no, never - why do you miss me?' Satoru scoffs now 'no, never, so peaceful without you' you glare at the phone, and he can damn near feel it 'I'm kidding' you bite your lip now, shifting in your bed, hearing his husky voice rushing through you. 'I was kidding too, I kind of miss you, just a little' he smirks, a hand leading down his flat abs, slowly, picturing your pretty body in his mind. 'you just miss cumming, hmm?'

Fratboy Gojo glares when you retort - 'think I don't make myself cum?' 'you're a slutty girl, aren't you?' you feel it, the heat clenching in your tummy. 'I'm mad at you, Satoru - leaving me in this state right after you did that... thing with your mouth' he chuckles, thumb brushing over the trail of silvery hair under his belly button, as you slip up your shorts just a bit, brushing yourself over them, whining before you can stop it. 'You liked me drinking that pussy up, hmm?' you're throbbing around nothing, dammit. 'shouldn't you be partying, dancing or whatever? smoking?' 'maybe I just wanna talk to you, maybe I wanna... be back between your thighs, fuck you'd like that, wouldn't you?'

Fratboy Gojo grins when you huff so clearly over the phone. 'Can I get a picture you think?' you hesitate a bit. 'picture of what?' 'titties' You roll your eyes, but he gets an image- moaning when he sees them 'fuck they're so sexy, wanna suck on those nipples - touch them, would you?' you do as he asks, thumbs running over your nipples in circles. 'they hurt' you pout as your back arches, your nipples pressed against the thin top you're wearing, pussy soaking your shorts even worse while Satoru frees his cock, which is already leaking precum against his lower belly button. 'imagine how they'll be dripping milk, hmm? I'm gonna suck it all up' 'Satoru!' he's chuckling just a bit, but it's too late, you're both too far gone

Fratboy Gojo eases his boxers down fully, thick cock so hard it hurts, imagining just that, milk dripping from your puffy nipples. 'what, you wouldn't like it?' you feel yourself heating up then - 'perv' - he laughs softly, but it turns to a whine when his thumb presses his tip. 'are you stroking yourself, Satoru? thinking of me?' he curses internally, when that bratty little voice is crying out. 'you're touching your pussy, wanting my mouth, aren't you?' you nod, knowing he can't see, as the two of you play with yourselves, his eyes close, hearing you then. 'I can hear how wet you are, fuck' 'mnh!'

Fratboy Gojo can't take it, the longing, he can't hold back like he has been, not on the phone, drunk off your voice, the memories. 'I wanna lick it all up, so wet, isn't she?' you're gasping out, while you pump two little fingers in your soppy little hole. 'y-yes, do you want that, me pouring all over your face?' 'god you're a freaky brat, gonna dirty talk better than me!?' you're both whining, him stroking, you pumping. 'I r-read a lot of smut' he's breathless, listening to your moans grow louder and louder, while his cock twitches, he leans down to spit on it, while you drool down your own fingers. 'that journalism degree- ah f-fuck- it's j-just for you to write... smut... fuck!' you can't glare, you're too wet, pulsing around your fingers, whining 'm'close, Satoru, p-please...'

Fratboy Gojo moans as your words wash through him. 'I wish I was there right now, fuck... want my fingers instead, don't you? yours can't hit that spot?' you whine in frustration. 'y-you little... conceited- shouldn't have g-gone...' he exhales, head leaning back on the soft pillows as yours do 'I know, fuck I know... work your clit, it's easier baby, okay?' you do as he suggests, running in circles, engorged clit twitching under your touch. 'm-mad at you...' he gulps now, cock so close to busting. 'm-mad at myself, please just... will you cum for me baby?' Baby, he's calling you baby, and you're close, hearing his breaths, hearing his wet strokes. 'picture me right there' you do then, shattering, cumming so much you soak your hands, while Satoru chases his release from hearing you.

Fratboy Gojo loses it when you whisper 'you cum for me, now, hmm Satoru? be good' 'fuck you for that, mnh! close, close' you're sucking yourself off your fingers. 'I taste yummy' oh god, he's done, busting so much all over his hand now, white ropes endlessly pouring sticky across his hand, as just hearing him makes your cunt pulse in response. 'want a picture, for fap material?' you roll your eyes, shaking your head. 'you're so annoying...' you pause then. 'yeah.'

Fratboy Gojo uses his clean hand, sending it so quickly, and it makes your pussy clench again, pretty cock coated with cum - with some dumb little cat sticker with it's tongue out - 'fuck... your cock is pretty' 'is that a compliment!?' 'psh... no. a fact. jerk' Satoru cleans up, pressing you on speaker then, as you clean up as well, laying back down, putting him on speaker too. 'I'm upset you left, but I don't blame you for having a life... I guess, I'm just... lonely' Satoru pauses now, emotions in his throat after having that release. 'I wish you told me not to go... I could leave early?' you shake your head. 'no, it's okay, I told you, you're sacrificing enough, this wasn't your choice'

Fratboy Gojo feels something just gnawing at him now, what was he doing here? trying to cling to some bachelor life while you're changing everything about yourself for this. 'I should let you get some sleep' you murmur then, and Satoru shuts his blue eyes, snowy lashes fluttering, when he pulls a pillow close. 'wanna fall asleep on the phone?' you pause, tugging your pillow against yourself. 'yeah we can... Satoru why aren't you out?' because all he can think about is you, that's why. 'I didn't feel like it, get some sleep brat, aren't you growing my baby inside you?' His baby. His. The thought makes him crave you so badly it's difficult to stand it. 'your parasyte you said, remember?' he snorts in laughter. 'it still technically is, you're just emotioal about it'

Fratboy Gojo doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he wakes up and you're still on the phone, lightly snoring... and he knows then, he made the wrong fucking decision. When his friends stumble in and bring girls back, heading to their rooms, Satoru shuts his door, so he can listen to you breathe instead, the only good sleep he's gotten since he's been here.

I'll be doing these between chapters as this story will have some time skips- I hope you enjoyyyy <3

Perm tags - @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji  @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @naomi-main @fairygardenprincesss @estrellaexists @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff gojo: @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen

[neeeooon]

HELLLOOO DARLLINGGG💞💞💞🍡🍡

♡.I would love to ask for a request of how how blue lock guys would react when they met their child after birth :3

♡.Characters: ness, kaiser, kunigami, rin (you can add or remove any character you want (*^^*))

THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

HELLO LOVELYY sorry this took me so long, i hope you enjoy!

when they’re first-time fathers pt 2

husband bllk x afab!reader. not as graphic as pt 1. slight angst in kaiser’s

alexis ness

-> when your son was first placed into ness’s arms, he cried

-> this child, previously screaming after being forced into the real world, was quiet as he stared up at your husband. when one blinked, the other blinked back, as if they were communicating with one another

-> “are you teaching our baby morse code?” you teased as ness continued blinking. your words caused him to smile. “it’s that’s the case, he’s been saying cheesecake for the past four minutes.” “he’s perfect!”

michael kaiser

-> he’s a nervous wreck. he’s been a wreck your entire pregnancy, but he was able to channel his worries into taking care of you. now there was about to be another human in your family, and he didn’t know if he was ready

-> what if he messed up? what if he turned out like his dad? or his mom? he didn’t know which was worse, but he knew that he didn’t want to be like either of them. he wanted to be good for you, for your child

-> so he held your hand. he sat with you and comforted you, and when your son was born, he held you while you held little kaiser

-> “y/n, i…” he didn’t have to say i’m scared, you saw it in the way he was trembling. from the spot in your hospital bed, you reached over and placed your fingertips on his elbow. “you’re not alone. we can do this, okay? together.”

kunigami rensuke

-> “kuni..” “i’m not going anywhere, y/n. i’m right here.”

-> there were complications that resulted in you needing an emergency c-section. when your daughter was born, you made kunigami swear that he’d stay with her and let the doctors work on you

-> and so sat kunigami, your daughter wrapped in her blankets and sleeping soundly against his chest as he waited for you to return. he was panicked, but he didn’t allow himself to show it. though your daughter was only a few hours old, he wanted to be show her that he could be brave

-> “everything will be fine, little one. it’s you, your mom, and me. we won’t let anything happen to you, i promise.”

itoshi rin

-> “why is he looking at me like that?” rin asked as he stared down at the extremely unimpressed baby in his arms. they appeared to be having a scowl off, much to your amusement

-> “i think he’s mirroring you.” “?? that’s so insulting y/n. i don’t look like that.” “yes, you do.” “no, i don’t.” the baby burped, causing you to laugh at your husband’s startled expression

-> though they were sharing matching looks of bored confusion, rin’s heart was so swollen with love for the cranky little infant

-> “damn you,” he cursed under his breath as you and the baby slept soundly. “you better not get sick or hurt. i’ll have to turn the entire world off its axis for you, little one.”

pt 1

[blessedmisery]

DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH ME BABY!

✰ pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader ✰ summary: after several sexless months of a very vanilla marriage, nanami kento learns how his slutty wife actually likes to be fucked. wc; 4.1k ✰ warnings: food play, a tiny bit of ass play, dirty talk, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names, very light bondage, hair pulling, some very sweet after care, nanami is soo addicted to his wife, honestly just pure filth. 18+ MDNI

your sex life with your husband was basically dead—buried so deep, it felt like it might never come back.

i mean, you shouldn't be surprised right? when you got married, everyone warned you it would be this way. “just wait until the honeymoon phase is over”, “wait until work gets in the way”, “wait until you start sleeping in separate beds” they told you. although you thankfully hadn’t made it to the third phase yet, you didn't believe them—at least not at first.

the first few months of your marriage felt purely euphoric—like a drug you just couldn't get enough of. you were bathing in the seemingly never ending marital bliss, convinced that nothing could have come between you and your husband— at least not when the two of you were fucking like animals in heat, absolutely devouring each other no matter where the pair of you were. well, it seems life has a way of being deceiving, doesn't it?

so here you were, only one year into your marriage and somehow, sex had completely fallen off your marriage itinerary. you don’t even know how it happened. your work lives took over, and the honeymoon rush had slowly but surely died out. your daily orgasms slowly turned into weekly orgasms which eventually turned into none. the number of times you and your husband have had sex in the last few months has been a big, fat, zero. your revised daily routine now looked a little like this: wake up, breakfast, work, dinner, sleep. exciting right?

kento was a very busy man—you couldn't blame him. he was always working overtime, always being pushed past his limits by his boss and always coming home completely and utterly exhausted. but that didn't change the stark reality—your marriage had become painfully sexless, and severely depressing. and you’d endured months of this silent, dry torture before you finally stepped up and decided you had had enough.

you and nanami were a picture perfect couple—that much was obvious from just looking at the two of you. you had the perfect wedding, the perfect house and perfect vanilla sex. though, despite its initial merits, clearly it hadn't gotten you very far—not if you found yourself so sexless this early into your marriage.

you couldn't let your marriage go down like this, you simply wouldn't. something had to change; you both knew that. the only question was, who would be the one to fix it first? so, you finally mustered up the courage to tell your husband you were sick and tired of the drought, and you were more than ready to break this invisible wall which had stood between you two for months.

when you told nanami that you wanted him to fuck you nasty, whenever and however he pleased without so much as a warning— naturally, his cock hardened, and nanami had displayed the rarest of his facial expressions: shock. though, despite his obvious shock, he was just as desperate to bridge the painful distance between the two of you.

so, of course he agreed— because nanami kento was not one to deny his beautiful wife.

and then it began—the waiting game. a semblance of hope finally returned as a light in your plain, boring days and the thrill of the unknown had you going absolutely feral. not knowing when and if he was going to fuck you had you living through your day to day life in a constant state of need and arousal. you finally felt yourself getting closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel where a long, loving marriage awaited you.

it had only been two days since your conversation when he walked into your shared apartment after work, and saw you standing behind the kitchen island in the tiniest, sluttiest white dress, preparing his favorite after dinner dessert—apple pie. what a perfect, thoughtful wife you were.

you looked up from the recipe book to see him standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and overworked as usual but, also looking remarkably handsome in his clean suit. gosh. he had just walked through the door and already your warm and wet arousal was settling comfortably in your panties.

“hi kento, how was work?” you asked softly, your lips pulled into a light smile.

“tiring” he replied, his voice an octave deeper than normal. he must have worked very hard if he sounded this exhausted, you thought. his bag dropped to the ground with a thud and he took his shoes off followed by his blazer, leaving just his dress shirt and pants on. you watched him intently as he walked over to where you stood behind the kitchen island, rolling up his sleeves and throwing his tie on the marble surface.

you flinched as he wrapped his big arms around your waist, welcoming the warm yet unexpected touch. he nuzzled his stubbly face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses along its delicate skin. you let out small, pathetic whimpers, feeling another rush of heat settle in your core. your slick would start dripping through your panties and onto the floor if you didn't fix this soon.

“my dear wife, i didn’t know you were so dirty” he mumbled into the sensitive flesh of your neck, lightly nibbling at it, and leaving a trail of wet kisses down it’s stretch. fuck. why had the two of you ever stopped doing this in the first place?

“w-what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly, already feeling worked up from his minor act of intimacy. he inhaled your sweet vanilla scent—relishing in it, before he spoke up.

“yes kento, i want to be fucked” he started, while slowly snaking his fingers down the side of your dress. “whenever you want, however you want” he finished, mocking you sweetly with your own filthy words from just days ago. he was playing with you, baiting you—and you were falling right into his waiting hands.

his fingers met with your soaked panties as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, feeling him rub slow, lazy, teasing circles on your clothed clit, leaving you wishing you skipped the panties entirely when you got dressed this morning.

“is that not what you told me just a few days ago, my dear?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, watching you in amusement as you squirmed under his light touch. he’d barely given you anything yet your head was already clouded with arousal, making you literally tremble with need. dirty, dirty girl. “mhmmm” you hummed in response, not bothering to utter any words. not when you were so busy relishing in your husbands sweet proximity—a proximity you hadn’t felt for months.

“if i had known my wife was such a slut—” he said, slowly moving your wet panties aside with two long fingers “maybe we would’ve never had this issue in the first place” he finished, his deep, velvety voice sending little shivers racing across your skin. you closed your eyes, letting out sweet little mewls and whimpers while he toyed with your drenched pussy.

“k-kento” you moaned, desperate for more. it just wasn't enough. after so many celibate months, you were brimming with need, ready to burst at any given moment.

“yes baby? what is it?” his coo was sweet and honeyed. he toyed with you like a doll, teasingly pushing his fingers in and out of you, slowly pushing each and every coherent thought out of your mind, leaving you in a hazy, blur of need.

“ah— i n-need more” you whined pathetically in response, reaching a trembling hand up to the nape of his neck while your knuckles turned white on the other from your desperate grip on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“more what sweetheart? use your words for me” he practically purred in your ear, his voice a soft caress. the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you like this.

he pressed himself closer against you, removing your dress strap from your shoulder to give himself easier access to your tits. you bit your lip, desperately stifling your moans as he seized a handful of your breast, kneading and teasing the supple flesh, his fingers rolling your nipple with a torturous precision. fuck him.

"p-please kento, want you t-to make me feel g-good" you let out, voice shallow and breathy. your whines and moans were music to his ears, and he vowed they would be the only sound he ever craved to hear again.

you let yourself surrender to the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body as nanami pumped two of his thick, long fingers in and out of you. god, what a sight you were for him—eyes squeezed shut, rosy-cheeked and completely breathless. until this moment, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed in these last few sexless, stressful months he had lived through.

you whimpered a desperate plea as your husband pulled his fingers out, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. no, he was not going to give it to you that easy— especially not after this long of a wait. he turned you around to face him, and in one swift motion, lifted you onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble cooling the burning, aroused skin of your thighs. you felt a strong, big hand grab your waist while the other rest on the soft skin of your cheek. he looked at you through lust filled, hazel eyes—admiring his irresistible wife.

growing impatient, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. "kento" you breathed against his lips, desperate for more of his attention. no matter how much he gave you, you felt it would never be enough to make up for all the time you missed with your husband.

he kissed you softly, mapping every inch of your mouth with his wet tongue. you flinched, as he caught your lip between his teeth, teasingly biting down and nibbling on it before pulling away and leaving you whining and aching all over again. removing his hand from your cheek, he reached his arm around you and picked up the bottle of whipped cream that stood with the rest of the pie ingredients.

"my dear wife, when was the last time you made me this pie? the day after our wedding?" he chuckled deeply, studying the can in his hands.

"thought you'd like it" you mumbled, embarrassed by his mocking tone. you'd never seen him like this. his expression was one—in all your years of dating and one year of marriage—you've never seen him display. he looked hungry. a hunger that went beyond satisfying his human needs—this hunger looked feral, almost primal and he looked ready to do whatever it took to satisfy it.

nanami took a step back, opening your legs further apart to give him a better view of all your sweetest parts. you watched him flick the cap off the whipped cream can, buzzing with impatience as you waited for his next move. a strong hand pushed the fabric of your skimpy linen dress up to your waist, and you almost jumped when he sprayed some on your leg.

"ah- kento, what are you doing?" you gasped, looking down at your bare thigh, where a cute little heart of whipped cream was now drawn.

"apologizing to my sweet wife" he muttered, placing the can back down on the counter. he leaned his head down to your thigh, one of your hands instantly tangling itself in his hair. that's right. this is how nanami kento would apologize for all your missed orgasms—for unknowingly denying his wife.

his tongue met with your leg and he began slowly dragging it up and down the skin of your thigh, licking up all the cream that sat in the shape of a heart. a soft moan escaped your parted lips, and you tugged on his hair to pull his head up despite him not being finished.

"dear husband, when did you become so dirty?" you echoed his earlier words right back at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you locked eyes with his ravenous gaze. there it was, that hunger— that pure look of desire which you hoped would never disappear from his eyes. marriage was hard but in this moment you were both convinced that doing this every night, would make it feel effortless. nanami only smirked lightly before diving his head back down to meet your trembling thigh. that's right, he had you trembling with need—that's how desperate you were for his touch.

strong hands held your thigh down as he finished licking the heart of whipped cream on your leg. this was an interesting way to apologize to say the least. he lifted himself up, locking eyes with you as he slowly licked the last traces of cream from his lips. holy fuck, you almost came from the sight alone.

moving his hands, he pulled your dress over your head, leaving you in just your skimpy, soaked, panties. "so beautiful" he rasped, drinking you in with just his gaze while grabbing the can and getting to work on your tits. you giggled, watching him spray two hearts of whipped cream, one around each of your nipples.

"baby you- ah" the words died on your lips as he began licking the cream, finishing off with a light nibble that had your toes curling from pleasure. with a groan, he worked his way to the other one, sending chills down your spine and whimpers past your lips. one thing was for sure—nanami knew exactly what he was doing. and he wasn't going to stop.

"please" you whined desperately— impatiently. nanami was holding you on the brink of release, dangling your orgasm right in front of you before ripping it right back when you were about to finish. it was fucking frustrating.

so many nights, while nanami stayed late at work, you lay in your shared bed, desperate and aching, your fingers working tirelessly—trying, and failing, to replicate the feeling of his. little did you know that your dear husband spent his time in similar ways. in the late hours of the night while you were soundly asleep, he stood in the giant two person shower of your shared bathroom, hand wrapped around his veiny cock, warm water streaming down his body, pumping himself endlessly. he tried, he really tried. but nothing—nothing could compare to the addictive pleasure that came from your warm, tight walls clenching around his cock or the heavenly feeling of your soft, wet lips wrapping him so sweetly. yes, it was safe to say you were both very desperate and very frustrated.

"you wanted it nasty baby, that's exactly how i'll give it to you" he groaned in your ear moments before you were flipped face down onto the counter, toes barely touching the floor. you had awakened something inside him, and now that you'd gotten a taste of this nanami, you never wanted to go back.

you craned your neck to look back at him, watching him unbutton his now crumpled white dress shirt. he met your gaze, smiling at you while he reached beside you to grab his tie. you had never reacted to your husband this viscerally before. just the mere sight of him was intoxicating, leaving your head light and hazy, as if you were drunk on his presence alone.

he moved your hands behind your back, crossing them over each other before binding them together with his tie. a light moan escaped you, and you wiggled your hands, getting a feel for the restraint.

"spread your legs" he ordered, his suddenly stern and commanding voice only fueling the desperate throb between your thighs. you obeyed, stepping your toes further apart to allow him to stand between your legs.

you'd never thought you'd be this pliable, this eager to please. but here you were, pushed against the marble counter, wrists tied and ready to fulfill any of his wishes and demands—no matter how filthy. nanami held a dangerous level of control over you and your body, and the thought of wanting it any other way terrified you. surely this is what addiction felt like.

you flipped your head over to the other side, enjoying the cooling feeling of the marble against your burning cheek while you watched him pick up his handy whipped cream once again. guess he wasn't done with that huh.

"kento" you whined, indulging in the slow, sweet pleasure but impatiently needing more than just the teasing he was giving you. it wasn't fair. you had waited long enough.

"ah ah, so impatient, my dear wife" he clicked his tongue, grabbing hold of your wrists. you shuddered slightly when you felt the cold whipped cream meet with your tight holes. oh. he placed the can down, and got on his knees, still holding your bound wrists tightly with one hand and squishing the flesh of your soft thighs with the other. he dragged his tongue up all the way from your clit to your ass, licking up the string of cream he had drawn on you just moments before.

god, this man was filthy. his tongue lingered around your rear entrance, licking playful circles around it and prodding it with his tongue. the initially foreign feeling slowly grew on you, shooting warm pulses of pleasure through every vein in your body and deep into your aching core.

he dragged his tongue away from your tight ring, lapping up the last bits of cream left around your drenched cunt. you clenched your fists, desperate to hold something—anything to help you cope with the overwhelming pleasure you felt.

"kento— e-enough, i need you inside me" you uttered, unable to contain your restless, writhing need for him any longer.

"fine, if my beautiful wife so desires" he replied lazily, letting out a low laugh. you heard him unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the ground while he unzipped his pants. finally.

"my dirty, filthy wife" he muttered, idly pumping his hard, veiny cock with one hand. before you could protest, his fat, leaking tip found itself at your seeping entrance, prodding the wet flesh around it. you heard him suck in a sharp breath, a low hiss slipping from his lips as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you so wide that your eyes fluttered to the back of your head.

"nngh- ah" you moaned at the feeling of his tip reaching your cervix. he was sheathed inside you, waiting for your quivering body to adjust to his thick length. nanami was huge—there was no denying it. no matter how many times you had taken his cock, it was always an adjustment for you.

wiggling your hips, you tried to get as comfortable as you could on the hard, white marble countertop while he started slowly moving his cock in and out of you. "i-i haven't ah-adjusted" you whined, needing more time to get used to him. after all, the months of fucking yourself with your small fingers were nothing compared to your husbands cock.

but nanami only said, "you can take it" whilst speeding up to an almost frantic pace. you felt like you were going to fucking break. but don't say you didn't ask for this. you exposed your most vulnerable self to your husband just days before, begging to be treated like this. so yeah, you asked for it. and he was only doing what his wife desired.

nanami began to question his sanity. he never cracked under pressure, no matter the circumstance, but he felt his once strong grasp on his self control now slipping through his fingers. yup. this felt almost too good to be real—like he was either high on the most potent drug or finally losing his damn mind. he couldn't recall the last time he'd ever felt like this—not even during all the other times you had sex. you just felt that good in this moment.

each thrust had you crying out and clenching around him tighter and tighter—reassuring you that this marriage could be saved, that your sex life was not dead forever. your mind was swimming in pleasure and pain, the head of his cock kissed your cervix so roughly yet so sweetly. you silently said your final goodbyes to the sweet, innocent, vanilla versions of yourselves, and welcomed this new beginning for your marriage. you wanted this version of nanami for the rest of your life.

he fisted a handful of your hair, quite literally pulling you out of your lustful haze. nanami wrapped the strands around his hand once, securing you in place—not that you had any intention of being anywhere else anyway.

"fuck- baby you feel so fucking good" he growled from behind you, his breaths slowing into heavier, raspier ones. push. pull. push. that's what this fucking felt like. your scalp ached from the strong pull on your hair and your pussy throbbed from how hard he fucked you. your bodies fused together, connecting with each of his slams inside of you.

"nngh k-kento gonna c-cum" you stuttered out. he had you so fucked out on his cock you were barely able to even think, let alone form a sentence. it was fucking pathetic.

"yeah- f-fuck come for me" his voice came out in a ragged breath and his erratic pace began to slow into a more languid, agonizing one. he couldn't help himself—he wanted, no— needed to feel every single muscle along your tight walls clench around his cock. nothing felt better than this.

a desperate cry ripped from your throat as your entire body tensed, the long built up pressure in your core finally snapping free. your breath hitched, and you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation, finally unraveling around him. your walls clenched and throbbed, milking his cock with every pulsating wave of pleasure that coursed through your body.

"that's it, good girl" nanami purred behind you, feeling his cock throb deep inside you— the unmistakable sign of his climax finally reaching him. he went still, letting his cum spill out inside of you as he came down from his high. he gently untangled his hand from your hair letting your head drop back down onto the counter top.

your eyes were shut and your body was limp. there was no way that you’d be able to get up and walk around— at least not for a while. you felt your husband finally pull out of you, hearing him buckle his pants back up. warm hands met with your still trembling body, and he gently flipped you over, scooping your body up into his arms. not a single word would come out of you. you were fucking spent.

“my love” he whispered softly, placing you onto the plush bed of your shared bedroom. you looked up at him through half lidded, blurry eyes. “hm?” you hummed out, hoping that was enough of an answer for him.

“let’s take a bath” he said simply and you nodded in response. you could use a warm soothing bath right about now. he stalked into the bathroom and you heard the water turn on. he came out naked moments later, and picked you up off the bed, carrying your limp, exhausted body to the bathroom.

he lowered himself in, and you followed, sitting in between his thighs, his huge frame towering over you from behind. he pushed you lightly to sit up and you obeyed, tilting your head backwards to give him easier access to your hair. he began running his long fingers through the strands, untangling the little knots that resulted from his pulling earlier. you hummed lightly at the feeling, enjoying this small, sweet act of intimacy.

he moved his hands down to your shoulders momentarily, placing light, wet kisses on each one, and a few down the length of your back. “you did so good for me” he whispered sweetly, his gentle praise sending a rush of warmth through you.

god. you loved your husband. he was so caring and so tender, and moments like these made sure to remind you of that. you hoped you’d never have to experience another drought in your marriage like that again and you would do anything to make sure it stayed the way it was in this very moment.

“kento?” you spoke up softly, eyes still closed and head thrown back as he began to lather your hair with your vanilla scented shampoo. “yes my love?” he asked in response, waiting to hear what you mustered up all your remaining strength to say.

“i didn't finish baking the pie" you said, letting out a soft laugh. so much for being thoughtful.

he let out a deeply chuckle in return, recalling how adorable you looked, baking in a cute little white dress. he'd never eat his favorite pie again if it meant sex like that for the rest of his life.

he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered "it's okay, i already had my favorite dessert"

a/n: holy shit if u made it this far thank you so much for reading. this ended up being wayyyyyy longer than i planned it to be but i had such a good time with this <3

[drgnsfly]

✶ UNTIL SUNRISE

summary: you and charles broke up a year ago ─ it was messy, brutal, but not unexpected. what was unexpected, though, was to see each other at a monaco party thrown by your socialite friend. between champagne, stolen stares and bittersweet regrets, things left unsaid come back to haunt the both of you.

f1 masterlist | part two: until sunset

pairing: charles leclercﾉex!f!reader

wc: 7k

cw: angst, bittersweet, smut (oral f!receiving, p in v, unprotected - mdni!), second chance, exes to lovers, reader is BITTER, accurate french, ocs for plot purpose, english is not my first language

a/n: the weeknd the party & the afterparty on repeat, while there is smut it's entirely skippable! if you just want to read the clean vers beginning and end will be marked by bolded words :) i'll still ask minors not to interact

DRENCHED IN SUNSET, Monaco glistened under waves of gold and orange, highlighting the marble of its buildings and the shine of the coast. The streets bustled with laughter dangerously mixed with the motor of fast cars and the crash of the waves. The air smelled like salt, and the tall buildings of the city centers looked like lazy Saturday afternoons spent losing yourself in the neverending streets. Monaco was a country of fast heartbeats and taken chances, and for a time now long past, it felt like home.

It didn’t anymore. As you stepped out of the car, you couldn’t feel more like a stranger.

You thanked the driver with a small smile and a generous tip before he turned around and drove away. The marble structure in front of you shone as the last ray of the sun caressed it ─ it was the stuff of wonder: tall windows and ancient Italian architecture. Your friend, Bridget, always knew how to go all out, but this time she had every right. It was her engagement party after all. You felt ridiculously small as the butlers opened the massive doors when you entered. Monaco and you had been estranged for more than a year now, you should be used to the feeling, but the bitter taste of heartache and tears was stuck in your throat like glue as you made your way up the stairs to the reception.

Enough of that, you thought, you came to celebrate your friend and her fiancé. You came to have fun, not to dwell on the past. You clutched your purse, plastered on a bright smile, and blended in the crowd.

Bridget didn’t make the guest list with a nimble hand, that was for sure. The room was swarming with people, all dressed to the nines, some you did and didn’t recognize. You fit in amazingly well, your dress sweeping the floor and the warm air hitting your bare back, a delicate necklace dropping between your shoulder blades. Soft jazz echoed against the walls, and conversations and champagne flowed as you took laps around the room searching for Bridget.

You knew she found you first when her hands wrapped around your waist in a bear hug. “You came!” She yelled in your ear.

A surprised screech escaped you while your friend twirled around you in ecstasy, all in silky white and tanned skin. Guests turned around, laughing at her antics, while the first real smile out of your evening broke your stunned expression. “What made you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know!” Bridget stood in front of you, holding you by the forearms as if she were afraid you’d run away. “You just─ We haven’t talked a lot the past year, and you moved out. I thought that maybe you didn’t want to come back here.”

Your chest tightened a little at her self-consciousness. Leaving was necessary, and you had found a semblance of peace by doing so, but you might have neglected a few connections in the meantime. Bridget included. “I know I haven’t been as present as I should have been, but there was no way I would have missed your engagement party,” you reassured her. “It’s just that with everything that happened, I needed some time to think. But I’m here now! We can celebrate properly. Where’s Jaime?” Her fiancé, soon-to-be husband.

The glimmer of happiness your consolation brought to Bridget’s eyes vanished as soon as you mentioned the events that caused your sudden disappearance. It had that effect on people. Nobody had expected it, except maybe you and the other party involved. “About that… the whole thing… there’s something I need to tell you about tonight, Y/N…”

“There you are, Bree! Look who I found trying to sneak his way to the piano.” You and Bridget turned at the sound of Jaime’s voice ─ and the second he came into view, the blood in your veins turned icy.

Because behind him was the reason you moved out of Monaco. Dressed in a sharp black suit with the trademark red tie around the collar of his shirt, his hair an artful mess of brown, the green eyes that promised you so much widening in recognition.

Charles Leclerc, your ex-boyfriend─ no, scratch that, the ex-love of your life, stood before you, champagne in hand, and you were mentally back in the threshold of his apartment a year ago, where your life fell apart in the slamming of a door.

You didn’t miss the way his knuckles tightened around the glass, nor how his pace faltered behind Jaime when he set his eyes upon you. The overwhelming distance between the two of you, whether physical or emotional, still stabbed you in the stomach.

You shouldn't have been surprised he was invited. He was one of Jaime's closest friends, they had known each other for years. There was a small part of you who knew but didn't want to face the possibility of Charles being here. Now, it was way more than a possibility.

The four of you went quiet. Bridget bit her lip, Jaime awkwardly stepped from one foot to the other, aware of what he’s caused, Charles’ eyes were stuck on you, almost transfixed. The air in the room became scarce, almost impossible for you to grasp fully: your world was limited to Charles. Apparently, a year was not near enough to swallow down the hurt and the gaping hole he left in you.

You couldn’t let the silence go on longer or you’d drown. Almost as a reflex, a fabricated smile made its way to your face and the split second of hurt across your face disappeared. “Doesn't surprise me at all!” You glanced at Charles, and the fake sympathy in your voice seemed to startle him out of his trance. “Well, don't let me keep you longer, Bridget. You have guests to attend to. Jaime, it was really nice to see you again. Now if you'll excuse me.”

You didn't stick around for any reactions. The bar at the other end of the room was practically screaming your name and if you were to survive tonight, you needed something stronger than champagne. Fighting to get out of the suffocating sphere around Charles, you almost dropped your whole weight on the red-cushioned stool, startling the bartender. “Can I have an Espresso Martini? Don't go easy on the vodka. Please.”

You barely had time to sip the sugary drink when the cocktail got in your hand before a dark, warm amber perfume you knew all too well grazed your nose and swallowed you whole, heart with it. Shutting your eyelids tight, you took a deep breath.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” Charles said.

He put his back against the bar, sipping from his champagne flute and carefully avoiding the distrusting glance you threw his way as if he wasn’t the one striking up a conversation with you. You couldn’t help the venom in your voice when you answered. “Well, Monaco’s not that big.” You wished it was. It would have been less painful to come back, to feel him so close to you ,and to still react to it.

That made him look your way, at least. Charles almost looked pained but quickly regained his usual composure. You graced him with a half smile, trying to sweeten your words. “And I wouldn’t miss Bridget’s engagement party.”

He chuckled at that, swirling the bubbly liquid in his glass. “We did play a big role in that happening, it would’ve been a shame.”

Yes, you did. After you and Charles got together, it was only a matter of time before both of your friend groups merged ─ friendships were extremely important to the both of you, and there was no way it was going to work if you didn’t get to know them at some point. During a dinner Charles organized for your birthday, you both noticed how Charles’ friend Jaime was making eyes at your friend Bridget, and how Bridget seemed to laugh a little too loud when he was around. Next thing you knew, you two were playing Cupid between muted giggles and stolen kisses. Not even a year later they were engaged.

And you and Charles weren’t anything anymore. The memory erased the sweetness of the sugar in your cocktail and left you with a bitter aftertaste. You didn’t want to remember anymore. It hurt too much.

“Yeah, well, looks like they’re doing much better on their own.”

You threw your head back and downed the end of your drink. If Charles wanted to answer anything, he swallowed it back, preferring to watch you with the same calculation he used on the track. For the second time in your life, you felt like a statistic in his life. The double dose of vodka you ordered was starting to wreak havoc on your empty stomach, and acidic words flew out before you could stop them. “So, still driving like you have something to prove?”

A flash of hurt distorted his delicate traits, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Still running away from your problems?”

Silence stretched between the two of you, letting the words marinate in the air. Music and chatter were getting louder but the only thing you could hear was the sharp sting of his words. You signaled the bartender for another drink ─ bad idea, but again, everything you were doing right now didn’t exactly fit in the good decision category. “That’s rich,” you laughed humorlessly, “coming from the guy who spent months pretending I didn’t exist.”

He exhaled sharply. “Don’t act like you were the only one hurting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry─ did I ruin your life by walking away? Because I remember doing it and you just─” you gestured vaguely, “letting me.”

“And what, you expected me to beg?”

Your fresh drink barely even grazed your lips before you slammed it down on the bar. The room was suddenly too loud, too crowded, too suffocating. “No, Charles, I expected you to care.” You despised how your voice broke at the end of your sentence.

That lands. His facade crumbled ever-so-slightly, enough for you to see the vulnerability you became all too familiar with. The regrets rippling in your stomach did not correlate with the words you spew out. Charles took a step closer, and suddenly his expensive cologne and something so distinctively him overwhelm you. “You think I didn’t?” Barely contained frustration curled around every syllable, his voice an octave lower. “You think it didn’t kill me to watch you go?”

“If it really killed you, you would’ve stopped me.”

His gaze dulled, and the fingers around his glass twitched. “And if you really wanted to stay, you wouldn’t have left.”

The words settled between the two of you like a live wire, buzzing and electrifying. Charles’ eyes scrutinized yours, and as he put his empty flute of champagne on the counter, you couldn’t stand how your pulse stuttered when his fingers grazed yours. The same hand flexed by his side.

Whatever anger you felt when you started spewing venom at him slowly died down, replaced by something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Acerbic regrets, maybe, mixed with the wet outrage of misplaced resentment. Your limits were drawn at the emptiness of your stomach, the hum of the vodka in your veins, and the hollow of Charles' pupils when he looked at you.

You no longer knew what it meant, and you weren’t sure you could handle the uncertainty.

“We shouldn’t be doing this at Bridget’s party,” you murmured. “She deserves to have a good night. Jaime too.”

“You’re right.” He looked at the ground, and you swore his eyes were shining. “Is there even a right time to do this?”

“There’s none for us. Not anymore, at least. You missed your opportunity a year ago.”

You slowly slid a bill toward the waiter, took your cocktail, and carefully avoided looking at Charles as you walked away. You’d have to shorten your time at this party if you wanted to survive it. Bridget would understand ─ she always did. Something cruel in the back of your mind wondered if Charles would do too.

Most of your time was spent mingling with old friends and acquaintances. You answered the same questions with the same smile and tone for each of them: Yes, you needed a fresh start, that’s why you left. No, you were at peace with your current situation, it was a clean slate. Maybe you’d want to join them for dinner, one day. No, you didn’t care Charles was there tonight, not at all.

Yet, you were painfully aware of the Monegasque’s presence. It was a magnetic pull, in the way you wanted to avoid him like the plague but neither of you could stray too far away: you were both orbiting around each other, far enough for your heart to settle but too close for comfort. It wasn’t enough ─ you didn’t know which one you were talking about.

You found Bridget after another good hour of waltzing around the room, and she dropped on you with a flurry of apologies about not telling you sooner, that she learned last minute Charles was coming. You laughed it off to reassure her, but the truth was that you were already ready to leave. A minute spent there was one more minute dipping your toes in a dangerous type of nostalgia. You didn’t feel capable of handling it any longer.

But you did promise Bridget to stay until the slow dance.

It was fairytale-like, how the jazz music and the incessant rumbling of conversation turned into soft piano and hushed whispers as Jaime and she stepped onto the dance floor. The color coordination of their clothes, their smiles as they basked into each other’s presence, happy, their graceful yet discreet movements to the music ─ they would have a beautiful wedding, and Bridget would make the most beautiful bride. A single teardrop slipped past your lashes.

You were in the first rank of the circle that formed around them. People were elbowing others to share your spot, so it wasn’t much of a shock when Charles ended up next to you. You still had to repress back a sharp gasp at his sudden proximity. “They look perfect,” he whispered, barely audible.

You didn’t know if he spoke to himself or if he noticed you next to him. You answered nonetheless. “They really do.” Charles didn’t look surprised by your interjection, which made you understand the comment was indeed directed at you.

“Do you…” He hesitated, sneaking a glance that you met by accident. “Do you think we looked like that, at some point?”

Music filled the air between you. “Yes. We did.”

A half-smile stretched your lips, though without any substance to it. Slowly, people and couples all around you joined Bridget and Jaime on the dance floor. Their partners took hold of their waist, intertwined hands, and slowly glided around the marble floor. It was hypnotizing.

Charles’ fingers twitched in the dim light of the room, brushing yours oh so innocently. Shivers ran down your spine at the soft contact. It was only a matter of seconds before you subconsciously sought his touch once more, out of habit or homesickness, you didn’t know. Casually, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, your hands intertwined. It was hesitant, and you just kept staring at the slow dance in front of you, but the feeling of his knuckles grazing yours, the back of his hand you’d trace the veins of during long nights…

The weight of memories made you nauseous. 

You needed to get out. Now. You barely even muttered an excuse before snapping your hand back and rushing outside.

The night was sharp against your overheated skin, but the three cocktails you inhaled were enough to keep you warm. Breathe in through the nose, out by the mouth ─ again and again, until the palpitations against your ribcage finally ceased. What the hell was that?

Your fingers still tingled from where Charles had touched them ─ so innocent, so casual, like he hadn’t once held your entire world in his hand and let it slip away. You squeezed your eyes shut: you couldn’t handle this party any longer. You stuck until the slow dance, you fulfilled your promise. Except you were supposed to sleep at Bridget’s tonight, sparing you the added expense of a hotel in Monaco, and she wasn’t leaving her own engagement party anytime soon, even for you. You could hitchhike or call an Uber if you knew where her house was.

No hotel booked. No backup plan. No escape.

A familiar voice broke your thoughts. “Running again?”

You turned abruptly to see Charles at the grand entrance of the building. He stood there, hands buried in his pockets, the soft light of the entry hall graciously dancing on his features. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes─ God, his eyes. They held something between concern and something else, something unreachable and unspoken. You swallowed with difficulty.

“Not everything is about you, Charles.”

He hummed. “Didn’t say it was.”

Silence. He took a few steps closer, and the thick fog of the situation tightened around you ─ the past, the present, the fact you had nowhere to go. Charles titled his head, studying you. “You don’t have a place to stay, do you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how easily he could still see right through you after everything. “I’m sleeping over at Bridget’s.”

“But you don’t want to stay until the party’s over.”

You prayed somebody would make him shut up as you answered through gritted teeth. “I’ll figure something out.”

At this point, the Monegasque was close enough that you could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, like the idea of you wandering through the city alone at this hour physically pained him. A few seconds passed before a sigh escaped him and he spoke up again.

“Come to mine.”

You blinked. “What?”

Charles' gaze softened, almost making your knees buckle under the heaviness of it, but his tone remained steady, if somewhat quieter when he confessed, “I still have some of your things. It makes sense. I know you’re not capable of waiting until the end of the party.”

It makes sense. Like it was logical, like it wasn’t dangerous for your heart to step back into the house that held so many feelings and memories. Your lips parted, forming a protest, but Charles beat you to it. “I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s what you want.” His voice dipped, now lower with insistence and blatant worry. “But don’t be stubborn. Just let me take you home.”

Home.

You exhaled shakily. The word was enough to make you shudder, or maybe it was the hopeful way Charles’ tone curled around it.

Any person in their right mind would have said no. You should say no. You should call a cab to a random hotel and make do like you always did. But your body betrayed you: you nodded, slowly, before your mind could catch up with your actions. 

Charles didn’t gloat or smile. Instead, a visible tension seemed to leave his shoulders and he stepped aside as if waiting for you to move first to his car, you could see the familiar shape of it in the distance. He was giving you the opportunity to leave, the one he never gave you back then.

You still sat in the passenger seat.

The city lights blurred past during the short ride. It was quiet, not awkward ─ just heavy. You couldn’t forget the way to his house, your house, even if you tried to. It was a tear in your soul, a reminder. Every streetlight brushed against his features in flickers. You tried your best not to stare, but his sharp jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tight… Neither of you spoke. Maybe that was safer.

When he pulled into the garage and killed the engine, you finally exhaled.

“Come on,” Charles said softly, as if he was afraid too much noise would break whatever fragile thread held you together.

Walking into his house was like stepping into the remnants of a dream when the morning came.

It smelled the same ─ clean, and the faint trace of his amber cologne clung to the air and your skin like melted plastic. “I’ll get you something to sleep in,” Charles said, disappearing into his bedroom. Once, it was yours.

A few things had changed, you’re pretty sure the lamp in the corner of the living room wasn't there before and he changed the rug ─ you always hated it anyway. But some hadn’t. A red sweater you used to steal regularly hung over the couch. You ran your fingers along the kitchen counter, a ghost tracing the memories of a past life. How many times had you leaned against this exact spot, laughing at some dumb joke he made while he cooked?

When Charles returned, he was changed into a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants. He held out something all too familiar ─ white shorts and a tee-shirt of his, brown, soft, and worn. After a while sleeping at his, it became more yours than it was his and he ended up giving it to you. It was your favorite.

You hesitated. “You kept it?”

“I kept most of it.” He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your fingers brushed his as you took it and for a second, neither of you moved. “Thank you,” you whispered. Charles just nodded and you made your way to the bathroom.

You changed, hands trembling as you slipped the shirt on. It smelled like fresh laundry and something so undeniably him. You hated how much comfort it brought you. How good it felt on your skin. You looked around the bathroom, noticing some of your leftover skincare products aligned next to the mirror of what used to be your side, and you swallowed with difficulty. He kept most of it. Your heart threatened to give out right here and there. When you walked out, Charles was sitting on the couch, staring into the emptiness.

You should go to sleep. You should pretend this is normal and turn away. But there are a lot of things you should have done tonight and didn’t do, so what was one more?

Instead, you walked over and hesitantly settled beside him, a little bit closer than you should be, the pounding in your chest so loud you were afraid he could hear it. The city lights poured through the windows, drenching his face in long shadows and nostalgia. Neither of you said anything for a while, basking in the stillness of what was.

Then, so quietly you barely caught it─ “I missed you.”

The corners of your eyes started burning the second the words left his lips. His head sharply turned toward you, eyes searching for something in your face. “I know… I know I don’t get to say that, but it’s the truth.” 

Your breath hitched. If you were a better person, you would have let it go. Let it sit in the air, fade away like all the things he should have said but never did. But the weight of them, the sheer audacity they let transpire after everything ─ it would kill you to just let it be. Your fingers curled against your knees as you forced out a wet, bitter laugh that didn’t even sound like yours.

“That’s your problem, Charles. You always tell the truth when it’s too fucking late.”

His jaw visibly tensed. “That’s not fair. You’re not innocent either.”

“Isn’t it?” This time, you fully turned to face him. You were angry, but underneath all that rage was something fragile hiding in the depths of your facade, something so desperately broken, begging to be fixed. Your voice wavered as you continued. “You missed me? Where was this when I was actually there? When I was waiting for you to show up, to choose me over everything else for once?”

“You think I didn’t want to?”

You scoffed. “I think you didn’t.”

The silence was deafening. Charles leaned back against the couch, and he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and the feelings you spent a year trying to bury under the pretense of peace rushed to the surface, drowning you with it. “Then help me,” your voice broke, “make me understand, Charles, because all I can remember is feeling like I was never good enough.”

His head snapped toward you. His expression─ Raw. Devastated. Emotions painfully obvious in every trait. “You were enough. More than enough, you were everything. And I─ I just didn’t know how to keep you.” His voice was just as teary as yours, if a little stronger, as if he was mad at himself. Your heart twisted violently in your chest.

“Then why did you let me go?”

Charles ran a hand down his face, looking up at the ceiling like the answer was hidden in the dark lights. His next sentence came out in something next to a whisper. “Because I thought it’d be better for you.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” You let out a wobbly breath.

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to take back the words and shove them back in his mouth in shame ─ but he didn’t. He let them simmer between you two, like so many other things.

You had spent so long thinking that Charles didn’t love you enough to fight for you. But now, here in the dim glow of his house, the faint sounds of cars and laughter coming from the streets echoing against the walls, you realized the truth was even crueler. He loved you enough to let you go. It didn’t make it hurt any less ─ for all you knew, it wrecked you even more.

Everything was so fragile. The tension between you, the past, the feeble source of city lights shining on you both. And then─ his fingers twitched. Just slightly, resting on the couch beside you, brushing against yours, remnants of what happened in the party hall. It was small, hesitant. A question.

You knew where this would lead. You knew that nothing had changed, that the past still sat uncomfortably between you like an open wound. But, God help you, you turned your hand over almost immediately, allowing your fingers to thread through his. A shaky breath left his lips. Relief, surrender, and his thumb traced soft circles against your skin, old habits reignited like they never left.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Charles murmured.

“Then what do you want?”

He swallowed, his grip on your hand tightening as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You. Just you.”

Your heart rate picked up, your resolve crumbling like sand through an hourglass. Because you wanted him too. Maybe you always would.

And so, Charles leaned in, imperceptibly, hesitant and almost afraid in his gesture. His eyes darted from your eyes to your lips to your eyes again, and there was no coming back from that. Your lips crashed onto his.

It was different, distinguished from all the other ones you shared before. It wasn’t fueled by anger, desperation, or habit. The way his lips moved against yours in perfect synchronization, the ghost-like touch of his fingers running up your arms, his shaky breath against your skin when you parted for a split second too long. It was soft, lingering. The kind of kiss that felt like home.

And maybe, just for tonight, you’d let yourself believe that was enough.

You threw your arms around his neck, and melted against him when his rough palms found the dip of your waist. It was a rhythm you didn’t forget, no matter how many months passed. Charles lifted you up easily, as if you were nothing, settling you in his lap and his lips never once leaving yours. The kiss, so delicate and gentle, grew more and more erratic and his hands started roaming your sides, lower, right above the curve of your ass.

A quiet sigh escaped you when his head buried in your neck, nibbling against your supple skin, breathing you in like a drug. Your hands tangled in his hair. Charles’ grip on your hips got tighter, pressing you against him. He hissed, and you could feel every centimeter of him through his sweatpants touching your throbbing core. The effect you still had on him would have made you smile if your senses weren’t completely captured by the feeling of his mouth on your body, the delightful friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, high-pitched and desperate into your neck. He pushed himself up against your shorts, and a moan drew out of you, louder than any of your silent sighs. “Bordel, please, let me…”

There was no hesitation in your voice when you answered. “Yes.”

Charles wasted no time. His hands grabbed your thighs hard enough to leave marks and lifted you up, lips still on yours. You locked your legs around his waist and, carefully, he walked you to the bedroom. 

He set you down on the silky sheets as if you were made of porcelain, yet the way he kissed you was anything but gentle. His tongue slipped past your lips, demanding access you offered without a second thought. You could finally taste your shared breath, remnants of champagne, espresso, and tears lingering in the way he angled his mouth. He bruised you with his kiss. How you missed it. Him. The both of you.

Charles’ hands traveled further up, slowly dipping underneath your shirt. It didn’t take long for it to end up on the floor. He leaned back, staring at your body, leaving you panting from the sudden lack of contact. He took you in like a priceless painting, breathless himself like you hung the stars in the sky for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Charles whispered, and the ache between your legs only intensified. One hand came to knead your naked breast, fingers ghosting over your erect nipple. You whimpered at the sudden contact. “Fuck, I missed seeing you like this. Hearing you. You can’t imagine how many nights I spent thinking about what I’d do to you if you were mine again. Just once.” He pinched your sensitive bud, and this time, his name slipped past your lips.

“Charles…” You gasped, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. His gaze darkened at the sound of his name, and you saw how cock twitch through the thin fabric of his pants.

Your hands reached to untie the knot tying his sweatpants. His hands simply grazing you weren’t enough. He wasn’t the only one who spent nights reminiscing and gasping alone at night in an empty room ─ you needed him close. In every way. You needed it to be real.

Gently, he pushed your hand away and you couldn’t stop the whine that came out of your mouth. “Doucement,” Charles whispered.

He leaned down and dragged his lips on the curve of your neck, tasting your skin. He planted a kiss in the middle of your chest, took a nipple in his mouth he swirled around on his tongue and let out with an erotic pop, followed the line of your stomach until he reached the dangerously low hem of your shorts. He would look patient if the iron grip he had on your hips wasn’t betraying him.

Your breathing was uneven, and anticipation stained your underwear and shorts with a wet patch you would be ashamed of if you weren’t so desperate for touch. Charles untied and slipped off your shorts with a timed precision, and when his fingers started playing with the border of your panties, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please…” 

Charles dropped a kiss on your clothed cunt, and you squirmed beneath him. “Tell me you want me.”

His words didn’t register in the fog of want clouding your mind. He repeated, this time with a little more force. “Tell me you want me, Y/N. Please.”

Your chest tightened at the pathetic need in his voice. “I want you. I want you so bad, Char─”

You didn’t notice him push your panties aside. All you knew was the feeling of his tongue, a slow lap along your folds, and any words you wanted to say died on your tongue with a silent cry.

It wasn’t soft or relaxed. Charles ate you out like a starved man as if the air he needed to live was between your legs. It was messy, a newfound fervor found as he circled your clit with his tongue, sucking on it, torturing it. You bucked under his mouth, pushing your hips against him, always craving more, more, more. More of the tightness in your lower stomach, more of him. When he lowered himself further and started exploring your warmth, you could barely breathe through the gasps and whines spilling from your lips.

Charles watched you eagerly from his point of view, hooded eyes glazed over by pure lust and need. His arms were hooked beneath your thighs, smothering himself in your cunt, and with his tongue pushing deeper inside you, the pad of his fingers came pressing down on your clit, making rapid and hard circles. The pace, fast and needy, his drunken look, the familiarity of it all… it was all too overwhelming. You were a writhing mess underneath this man.

After a year, he still knew your body by heart.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as you could, eliciting a groan out of him that reverberated straight into your core. The knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter, your breathing erratic. “Charles, I’m gonna─ Fuck! I’m close, please, I’m─”

And right as you were about to let yourself go, he stopped.

The high slipping through your finger was enough to throw you in deep confusion as you glanced down at him, your hands falling from his hair to the side of his face. Charles’ lips were glistening with your arousal, his gaze dark and hair messy, heaving. He looked downright pornographic.

He spoke up before you could word your protest. “Need to be inside of you, mon amour. Need to feel you coming around me.” His voice was hoarse and possessive, leaving no room for argument. The familiar pet name sent shivers down your entire body and you couldn’t find it in you to oppose him, not when you craved the same.

Charles was a man possessed, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats as you hurriedly helped him out of his shirt. His lean muscles on display, you traced them with your palm, feeling every scattered breath and the hitches of it when your nails grazed his skin. You stopped at the waistband of his boxers. You wished you weren’t as impatient, otherwise you would have savored the begging scrunch of his eyebrows, or the quiet whimpers escaping him. Instead, you released him from torture and helped him take it off.

His cock sprung out and tapped his stomach. At some point in your life, you got used to the size of it ─ now, you weren’t sure if your body knew how to take its length anymore. Slowly, Charles' hands gripped your hips to slide you closer to him, grinding his engorged member against your entrance. The sensation, so little and so much at the same time, had you release a strangled cry.

Charles leaned in closer, upper body above you, palms pressed next to each side of your head.  “D’you want it? This? Me?” His tip nudged your hole a little harder, and the small shock had you seeing stars. “Us?”

The question was charged with emotions and tears pricked your eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as you could. “Yes. More than anything.”

Those were all the words he needed. In a slow, agonizing push, he slid inside of you.

Nothing in the world could ever matter after that. It was dizzying, you could get drunk on the feeling: Charles filled you up so completely, reaching every sweet spot inside of you without even trying, and your back arched as if answering to his command. He took the opportunity to capture your back with one arm, bodies flushing against the other. You couldn’t remember the last time something had felt this right.

“Fuck… you feel so good, so tight,” he moaned in your ear. “Made for me. You were made for me.”

You answered between sharp intakes of air. “Yours, Charles.”

You felt his cock twitch inside of you at your words. He bottomed out, sucking in the thin skin of your collarbone. You croaked as he asked, “Mine?”

“All yours. Always have.”

All you could remember from here was the tangled mess of limbs you both became. His thrusts were erratic, slamming his hips upon yours like he was trying to mold your body to fit his. Your nails dug into his back ─ you dragged them down, finding no other outlet for the ache within you. Twisting, biting, moaning and kissing, lips and tongues at war to see who will leave the biggest imprint. Charles’ iron-clad hold on you only intensified the feverish state of the two of you, your skin glistening, panting. You couldn’t think straight anymore. All of you was his and all of his was yours.

“Shit, ‘M getting close,” Charles managed to articulate. “Need you to finish first. Fuck, need you to fall apart so I can see.”

You could only cry out his name in response, an unanswered prayer spilling from your lips. “I’m right there,” his pace picked up, his thrusts uneven between the plush of your thighs. “C’mon, I know you can do it. Let go for me, mon ange.”

The pad of his fingers drew slow circles on your clit, his rhythm relentless. It did it for you: in a flash of white, the knot in your lower stomach snapped. Everything narrowed down to the stuttering of Charles’ hips, spilling soon after you. He coated your insides with his warmth and broken pleas escaped you as he fucked your high and his with languid movements, gradually slowing down, bringing you down in the softest way possible.

The sheets were tangled, the air of the bedroom thick with heat, but neither of you spoke as Charles collapsed next to you. It was the type of silence that only came before something inevitable.

Your chest was still rising and falling unevenly, skin warm, raw from the way you had just taken each other apart. Charles laid on his back, one arm draped over his forehead, taking steady and measured breaths─ like he was trying to regulate something deeper than exhaustion. In the dim glow of his bedroom, reality finally settled in.

What you just did, with the guilt, heartbreak, and relief coming with it.

You sat up until you reached the edge of the bed, gazing emptily in front of you, wrapped in the sheets that smelled like you and him, your fingers playing with the hem of the fabric as you tried to remember how to breathe. You didn’t know what you should do from here and desperately dug in the depths of your mind to find an answer.

Behind you, Charles shifted. The mattress dipped under his weight, and before you could register his sudden closeness, you felt the warmth of his palm grazing up and down your spine, featherlight.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, staring at the Monaco lights outside his window. “I don’t know how not to.”

Silence. Then, a whisper- “Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. The words shouldn’t have made you feel anything. They should have been meaningless, casual, something you could ignore ─ this whole ordeal should have been a one-time thing you could have forgotten when the morning came. But they weren’t.

Because you remembered this.

The way he used to whisper it on nights where you’d get up at ungodly hours, restless. The way he always reached for you, even in sleep. You turned slightly, catching sight of him in the semi-darkness of the room: messy hair, kiss-bruised lips, green eyes heavy with a feeling you knew too well but were too scared to name.

“Charles…”

“I know,” he said, almost frustrated. “I know we─” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. Softer─ “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I know we’ll wake up tomorrow and we’ll still be…”

Exes. Strangers.

People who still fit together in every way that mattered, except the ones that actually kept them from breaking.

“But… just for tonight, can you stay? With me? We can talk about it tomorrow. Just… stay.”

You hesitated.

Then, gently, you let the sheets slip from your naked shoulders as you turned fully, shifting back onto the mattress beside him. For a second, neither of you moved or even dared to breathe, too afraid to ruin it. Hesitantly, carefully, Charles reached for you. It wasn’t demanding, nor possessive like he was when you were busy unraveling each other ─ it was in the heat of the moment. This was raw, emotional, uncertain. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

You made the choice for him. Moving closer, you tucked yourself against his side, tangling your legs with his and resting your hands on his chest in an all too familiar fashion, the heat of skin warming you up. 

Charles melted and released a slow, shaky exhale as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. His fingers retraced the same patterns he did earlier along your back. The contact made your chest twist.

You chose to ignore it. You chose to ignore it all ─ tonight, this will be enough. You, him, and the unsaid. Everything else could wait until sunrise.

©DRGNSFLY 2k25 ─ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[acynicalsweetheart]

BUNNY LOVE !

pairing: leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

cw: smut, ddlg, daddy kink, innocence, piv, virginity loss, creampie, reader is a bunny hybrid

note: super insecure ab how bad this turned out wow… first time writing leon so whoever reads please take it with a grain of salt! older leon in mind duhh.. very disjointed n clunky sorry. hope it’s readable still. any interaction/feedback appreciated!!

For pestering Hunnigan with his dad jokes and unintelligent quips as it were, Leon receives instant karma in the form of shitty weather. Angels must’ve chosen her side today. He gets it. Worn out all his lucky stars, said all his prayers, counted all his blessings, no more good cards to play. Just Leon Scott Kennedy and his misfortune back to their old ways. 

Made a fool out of himself, one-sided bickering making it seem like Leon’s some kind of looney. Only gets that Good job! when he’s within an inch of his life, has totally fucked up, or under the false pretense that someone was speaking to him. Back in the day he got ‘em as easy as pie. Pie but no pussy. Leon in a nutshell. Leon is the nutshell at this point. 

Got his ass thoroughly kicked today to say the least—a blossoming bruise on Leon’s shin out of all places ‘cause he stubbed it on the coffee table, ran out of change in the cafeteria and lost a couple dollars, people outright refusing to laugh at his jokes and witticism. Plain disrespectful. Where’s the love? 

Paperwork and office days are tough, man. Makes field work seem like the lesser evil here, and Leon nearly dies each time on duty. Least it makes him feel alive, as paradoxical as that sounds. Prefers fighting in B.O.W. infested domains rather than battling the confusing ways of social interaction. One he’s good at, the other? Not so much. 

He’s got a girl waiting for him at home that is not much too keen on social interaction herself. Being locked up in the confines of his apartment and all. God, Leon feels bad. But you don’t mind. He thinks. You’re smart enough to know how to handle a door, could just open up and walk out if that were a problem. Leave him alone with no one but Matilda and the restless phantoms of his past haunting him to no end. Guess Leon will never really be alone in that way.

Makes it to the parking lot garage in a ratty umbrella. Leaves it in his trunk tucked away for a rainy day that might be tomorrow given Leon’s series of unfortunate events as of late. Vintage real leather of his jacket thankfully unscathed, same horsehide fabric Claire shoots him those nasty glares for. Sorry Ms. Hybrid Rights, this one was fullblood, it’s fashion. Lasts longer. 

He is more worried about what you think in all honesty. Horses probably eat your kind in one big bite, so with that in mind Leon’s certain you’ll be on his side if the debate ever comes. Not that he’s especially knowledgeable about animals or hybrids either way. 

Leon has sacrificed his Costco coupons for your monthly carrot supply. In turn, you bite his arms. 

You came to Leon in a box. Literally. Ordered a package of… something. Not sure he wants to think about what was initially meant to be inside that package but let’s just say it was pretty damn big. A pleasant surprise when he unboxed what he thought he ordered, nice costume and everything, bit naked—Playboy Bunny sort of look—thought to check his bank statement if they charged him extra for that. 

Only, he didn’t have the time to ‘cause you opening your eyes and blinking at him caught him rightfully off guard. Strange. Like a programmed robot. Not what he ordered but alright, a blindfold should do, but before he could finish thinking, you fucking hopped out and stumbled to stand up. Took Leon that long to realize that things went wrong—either he unintentionally financed a black-market sex trafficking ring by shopping there, or somebody switched out his package. Still haven’t gotten to the bottom of that yet. Maybe someday, likely after he’s dead. Blown his brains out ‘cause the suspense was killing him. 

Of course, Leon being Leon, of course he was going to do the right thing. Call law enforcement to get you justice, lax on his assholery and capitalize Claire’s TerraSave hybrid rights movement, fund Billy and Rebecca’s hybrid shelter… key word: was. What he wasn’t going to do is explain what he was doing—more specifically what he was buying—to have this transpire. So like any normal, dignity-having, modest man, Leon decided to keep you. 

(A secret.)

Whole thing had him contemplating if things were supposed to be this way—God’s plan or whatever; which entails Leon dying alone and fuckless for longer than a man should ever go fuckless. That’s just a crime against biology. And his dick. 

Leon is lonely, okay? He’s old. Old and lonely and he can damn well buy a sex doll if he damn well wants to. Just his luck, his punishment due that it was an off-limits bunny hybrid. One that cannot be fucked under any circumstances. Doll was expensive as hell, too, sacrificed major funds that Leon surely will need when he gets the boot. Shit was custom made, designed specifically after an old flame and her red dress which should’ve been the first giveaway, really. 

(Her name is unspoken in this household ‘cause Leon himself knows as well as anybody, that one mention is more than enough to send him spiralling. The only pull of the trigger, all it takes to fire the instant depression bullet through the endless barrel and if Leon wasn’t an alcoholic before, you best believe he is now.)

It was a horny mistake—let the head of his dick control him. No way he’s buying another one just to have it happen again and be walking around with two bunny girls hogging up every square inch of his apartment. 

God, that sounds nice. But Leon is a good man. An aspiring one anyway, so he won’t. Won’t think about it. Honest. Will just sulk with his pussy-starved dick and balls that so desperately yearn to slap against some ass, empty themselves into a warm tight clasp. To impregnate a womb before the biological hourglass runs out, sends the last grain of sand into sterile territory. Missionary ‘cause he’s a sap nowadays. 

…

Are you even human? Sure, you’ve got the body, put the ass in assets, thanks to the multitude of carrot cakes you’ve got him baking thrice a week. But you’ve also got your floppy ears, perky fluffy cottontail—and let’s not forget the bunny chompers. Leon’s felt enough of those. A very nice addition to his scar-littered skin are now the chewing marks irremovably indented onto his forearms. ‘Cause apparently you think Leon counts as a vegetable. He doesn’t mind. Really. It’s fine. He has not thought of filing your teeth down. Promise. Claire’s snippy, passive aggressive questions regarding Leon biting himself do not bother him. 

(Leon has considered upping his biotin supplement intake in order to boost arm hair growth to hide them. Only time mama’s Italian genes have ever failed him.)

Oh my God, Leon. You look like shit!

Thanks.

What are those? Have you been chewing on yourself? Are you insane? Don’t answer that by the way, it was a rhetorical question. Jeez. Take your meds, Leon. They’re going to institutionalize you. Listen, I’ve gotta go, in the meantime you should cover those things up. 

Claire—

Conclusively, it wouldn’t be wrong to fuck you. Immoral, maybe. Stupid? For sure. Tempting? 

His dick rising like Jesus every time he’s around you speaks for itself. 

While at it, Leon’s not even entirely sure that you aren’t just a figment of his imagination—a schizophrenic hallucination or something of the sort. He has been slacking on the meds recently after all. Could very well be that this entire thing is just one long-ass episode. Being a nutjob is par for the course with Leon as many would agree. As even his therapist would agree.

He has not yet given you a name. Leon ain’t good with those, whether that’s remembering ‘em or coming up with ‘em. Was thinking of Matilda as unoriginal as he is, but that one’s reserved for his trusty gun. Closest thing Leon’s ever had to a wife, she’s a real cougar, 7 years older than him. Or maybe he was the cub all along. 

After taking on the role as a marionette for all these years, he is completely clueless as to how he’s supposed to manage this situation. Apparently the skills of controlling and handling things, let alone a crazed bunny, don’t come naturally for a man of Leon’s age, total fucking bogus by the way. Right now he’s just going with the flow—his so far unsuccessful flow—and seeing where it leads him and if that is down into another hole, well that’s just Leon, ain’t it?

Things between you and him used to be just fine before Leon got headbutted by a star-crossed streak, and now you’re resolved to being this stomping and pouting angry little thing, while Leon’s struggling to deal with his completely non-consensual attraction towards said stomping and pouting angry little thing. It’s a delicate balance—you get a sugar rush during the hours he so desperately needs to sleep, and Leon in turn struggles to keep the bulge in his pants down. 

He does everything for you; cooks, cleans, brushes your teeth, appeases you with pets, buys you clothes, helps you get dressed up, cuts a hole in the back of each of your panties to make room for your tail. Yet you’re some sort of fucking rebel, a revolutionary. ‘Cause you insist on not wearing any. Which causes Leon himself a great deal of embarrassment when he has to continuously hide his boners around you. 

Not that you even know what it implicates which then makes Leon’s dick even fucking harder because he’s a pervert. And the situation escalates from plain fucked-up to downright catastrophic. A torrential downpour of filthy, forbidden, absolutely out-of-question thoughts overflowing his mind. Much like D.C., shit just doesn’t stop. Evolves into a flood of fantasies and an obsession with someone (read: something) Leon should definitely not be having, but perversely allows himself to drown in. Can barely get any paperwork done ‘cause all he’s thinking about is stuffing you full. With his cream. Like a cannoncini. 

Pull yourself together, Kennedy. That was last week. It’s not going to happen again. It’s not. It isn’t. Don’t worry, just have a drink—One. One drink. And everything will be—

“Daddy!” A weight in his lap. Plushness spilling past his fingertips. Floppy ears nearly smacking him right in the face. 

Oh lord, his back. 

“Shit. Fuck.” Leon bounces you up and down a little—adjusting his hold on you ‘cause he was very prepared for that. You’re climbing him like a tree and he hasn’t even gotten a chance to close the front door yet. “Uh,” great example he is, can’t even keep track of his own swearing, “you didn’t hear a thing, bunny.”

“Missed you,” you mumble into his neck, pouty lips brushing against the skin there. Thankfully unbothered by Leon’s slip-up. 

“Daddy missed you more, baby.” He breathes in your scent, nuzzling your hair and finally getting to shut the door of the shitty day behind him. “You have no idea.”

Pulling back, you’re giving him these glossed over puppy eyes, staring up at him all curiously. Pretty ironic. Your pupils are so big Leon can see his reflection in them, wow, real nice. Really makes his wrinkles and eyebags pop in the overhead lighting. Claire was right, he does look like shit. 

Shit doesn’t cut it, he looks like a pile of shit ate a second pile of shit then shat out a third pile of shit. Leon being the third pile of shit. If his therapist could read Leon’s mind he would say Leon, you’re spiralling again, take a deep breath and count to ten and let’s continue this total fucking waste of time and money. 

(See, Leon’s doing just fine unmedicated. The screams of agony late at night are a part of the healing process, insists a voice in his head he’s named Kevin after a late buddy back in the cop academy. Not late as in dead, just Leon fucking things over as per usual. Friendship’s long gone—the real Ryman ain’t.)

Then you close them and lean in. Leon’s convinced you’re playing with him till you press your lips smack bang against his. 

Oh?

He sees it, feels it, processes it, before he realizes. 

Catches him so off-guard he nearly drops you, feeling around to get a better grip and ends up grabbing a handful of your asscheek and a handful of your tail. 

“Hey.” Leon tries to remove you, detach your lips from his and it’s like peeling off an actively bloodsucking tick. Damn near impossible. “Where’d you learn that?” 

‘Cause Leon did not teach you that. Sure he kisses you—everywhere but your lips, and they’re more of a peck, really. Once in a while (every night before bed) you get an earnest forehead smooch and that’s that. But that? That was a lover’s smooch. A boyfriend and girlfriend kiss. The beginning of a make out session. So who broke in and robbed your innocence under the fleetingly long hours of his workday? Taught you how to kiss like that? …Did they also steal Leon’s shit?

Reaching your finger up to press it against your lips, Leon receives a very impractical “shh” paired with a girlish giggle. 

“Nuh-uh,” he lowers your hand, “tell me.” Using not his Leon voice, but his daddy voice which is a timbre lower and a tone sterner. “Tell daddy.” Seems to work, shake your little bunny boots so awfully Leon almost feels bad. 

With a fallen face, you point to the TV screen through the open lounge. Currently airing… ad break. 

Late bloomer, huh. Well, fuck. Hope Leon didn’t stir that up, incite your heat cycle or whatever by letting you watch the TV. Can’t say he knows the first thing about bunnies, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happened. That’s just ol’ Leon business—always the first to press the big red button, to walk into a trap, to situate himself deeper into the grave that he’s been digging for more than half his life. To fuck up.

At least now the fallacy of burglary can be ruled out. Though Leon coulda sworn he left Disney Channel on. He remembers dialling 24 before taking off for work this morning, prompting whatever kids watch nowadays. What he does not remember is leaving the TV with some Baywatch or Bachelor bullshit on, you know, the ones with the raunchy shit. Kissing’s probably the tamest action they’ve ever aired on there. Uh, common knowledge. Obviously. So unless Disney Channel’s the perpetrator…

You’re watching Disney Channel!

Oh. 

Cinderella and that other guy. Prince Charming? Some felons they are, stealing your innocence like that. As a govvie, Leon will let it slide. Might’ve been your way of showing him that you proclaim Leon as your personal Prince Charming, but that’s just wishful thinking—well past his prince days by now, scruff and wrinkles and canities and all. Retinol, Tretinoin and whatever-the-fuck-noin don’t help with that. He’s tried. 

See, initially, you insisted on calling Leon mama which was just a punch in the fucking gut. An inflicted testicular torsion, even. By yours truly. Made him so insecure he considered going under the knife and getting a haircut for quite some time after that, just to help you distinguish between man and woman. Leon then decided against it when you said you liked his hair out of the blue. First time anybody’s told him that. Still mulling over the plastic surgery part though. 

The daddy situation was surprisingly not Leon’s idea. He may be the occasional pervert but no way in hell does it go that far. Impossible to get you to give the word up as well ‘cause you’re one stubborn fluffy little thing, so eventually Leon just went with it. Went and had a little too much fun with it. Has a visceral reaction to that word, just hearing it awakens something inside of him that’s so sinister even his balls get the heebie-jeebies. 

He puts you down, lets you scamper over to the couch and lets it squeak! when you jump onto the sectional. Lying pancake flat on your tummy with your feet swinging in the air, watching vintage fairytales like it’s the most interesting thing since sliced bread. 

You’re wearing his boxers. Okay. You put them on funky, right? That’s how Leon was able to feel your—

There’s a hole. 

Of course there’s a hole. There’s always a hole. Whether that be a loophole, an asshole or a… boxer-hole to fit your ball of fluff. 

He didn’t peg you to have the motor skills to use a pair of scissors yet. Well, on the bright side—you’ve no longer got an excuse to not help him around the house. Nah, that’s just mean. You’re a little bunny, Leon’s little girl, you don’t deserve that. Leon’s the one who wears the pants ‘round here anyway. Figuratively. He’ll make do of it. 

“Daddy’ll get changed, okay, baby?” He shrugs off his leather jacket, toes off his dad shoes as some have insisted. “You just stay right here.” Leon speaks into the open air. ‘Cause you don’t even look at him, too engrossed with the antics of a Disney princess. 

Leon returns in lounge clothes, bit later than necessary ‘cause he was not scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror like he’d do before a date. He did not brush his teeth and reapply his cologne and smooth over his hair, he did not spend an additional five minutes plucking off stray greying strands. 

At least the newfound scent gets your nose twitching. In the blink of an eye you’re springing up like a slinky, hopping from cushion to cushion and once again landing on Leon. When he catches you his hands land on the peaches of your ass. God. He does not feel the heat between your legs when they’re wrapped around him so tightly and he does not let his mind go places it shouldn’t. 

Sitting you on his lap—the normal way—Leon showers you with headpats and general pets, moreso in order to settle himself down rather than you. Pacifies your constant itch for physical affection though. Wool tufts of Leon’s cheap carpet are clinging to your fur, he picks them off, flicks them away into the horizon of his apartment. Poor baby, probably rolled around on the rug like a disheveled beetle while waiting for your daddy to come home. 

Okay, fine. Sympathy pecks. That’s it. 

Leon’s gut is already getting queasy from having you on his lap alone—queasy in a way that says he might not be able to keep his wandering hands in check. But Leon has enough self-control to not fall victim to the cradle-robber phenomenon. He does. Just loses his inhibitions from time to time, particularly around pretty young things. Pretty young, fluffy, bunny things shaped like you. You’re just too cute, terribly adorable, he could eat you up. In more ways than one. 

After petting and pecking your head till your ears stand at 2 o’clock rather than upright, watching TV with you and failing to dodge the smooches you try to place smack bang on Leon’s lips every time you see a similar scene—he figures enough is enough. Damn Cinderella and her damn Prince Charming for kissing so much.

(Thank the Lord.)

Drunk off endorphins ‘cause no one’s ever loved Leon as much as you do—and you’ve got no clue what love even means—he indulges in you and your kisses. Leon’s not blushed in twenty years, let alone to the point where his ears are getting second degree burns. Probably looking more like a clown and less like your King Not-So-Charming. 

His initial hesitancy of kissing you back wears off when you start letting out all these noises, cute frustrated huffs and puffs ‘cause you’re still new to the concept of kissing. 

No tongue ‘cause God knows that will throw every last ounce of Leon’s dignity, morals, and integrity—everything he’s ever stood for—right out the window. So he lets you clumsily slot your lips against his until your jaw grows tired, until you’ve successfully raised Leon’s dick like your mouth alone is a conjurer of Viagra spells.

Then you snuggle up against his chest and fall asleep. Just like that. Blue balling men like it’s nothing. Okay. Looks like somebody’s been reading up on how to be a total fucking tease. 

No idea when Leon passed out but he’s awoken by his own snoring, most likely ‘cause of the fucking hard-on that sprung up so fast there wasn’t enough blood flow left for his head. Hopefully his balls have gone back to normal as well, less painfully lonely and more… ballsy. Dick’s dead again, as is to be expected. 

Might’ve been a dream. 

Schizo. States a voice suspiciously identical to Claire’s in the back of his mind. 

“Daddy.” You’re loafing in his lap, ears flat against your head as you stare up at Leon. Unorthodoxly close to his dick. Shit. Tilting your head, you keep calling out for him till the murkiness of his hearing clears out. “Daddy?”

“Princess,” Leon groans, tasting the sleep on his tongue, stretching his arms out before petting your head once again—in case everything really was a dream, “how long was I out?”

Raising your brows, you shrug and pout. 

“Why don’t you wait in bed, honey? Dad’s—I mean, uh, daddy’s gonna…” Leon was hoping that would’ve gone unnoticed, too late when you’re giggling at his umpteenth slip-up today, “‘m tired, okay? Gonna help you.”

(God, does Leon want to help you—help you cum, help you make him cum.)

He sighs at his heart fluttering when you do what you originally do best, being a good girl for Leon and listening to every word he says. Not being a pissed-off and spiteful fluffy bun, no matter how cute it may be. 

Feels like somebody’s lobotomized Leon with a needle of your fur, pierced through his skull and switched out the frontal lobe for tufts of your cotton. Swear he feels you inside on a regular basis—a mini you poking and prodding at his cerebrum like a call bell for attention. You’re living rent-free in his mind and in his house and Leon is powerless when it comes to you. Willfully enslaved to a ball of fluff. 

It’s not the fact that Leon purposely overlooks the orange bottle wrapped up in this piece of paper with his name on it—it’s you. 

The one driving Leon crazy is you and you know what? He is completely fine with that. Needs something to get his mind off the horrors and tragedies, focus on the simple pleasures of life. Like sex for example. ‘Cause soon he won’t be having any of that. Leon has not been having any of that for too fucking long now. 

You’re all but his last shot.

All this thinking’s giving him a headache. Leon needs a drink. What time is it? Monday? 9PM? 

Whiskey o’clock. 

Pouring the drink down into the stubby glass, sight is about as disappointing as Leon’s soft dick. There is not much. The hell? Bottle’s so dark he can’t even tell if there’s actually nothing left or if it’s fucking with him just for the sake of it. Well, no worries, ‘cause Leon’s got an endless supply of—

…Nothing?

The worst possible outcome takes shape: an empty bar cabinet. Leon runs his hand over his face, settles at his stubble, feeling it disconcertedly. Only thing he’s thinking is what the fuck. Finishes the little pesky pint of alcohol—chugs it like water, doesn’t even feel the burn—and after the whole ordeal he is still thinking what the fuck. 

What the fuck is Leon supposed to do now? How’s he supposed to pesticide away the invasive species that are his thoughts and urges to fuck your little bunny self into oblivion? 

Tonight Jack Daniel’s was supposed to be momentary. A band-aid of some sort. Patch up more like wash away all the happenings of today. And yesterday. And the past 25 years of his life. One that he can then rip off, peel away the crusting scab beneath it and reopen the wound till it festers, patch it back up with 40% liquor filling the infinitely gaped lesion. The uroboros cycle Leon has come to know as coping. 

Seems like the only thing he’s going to be filling is you. With… love, of course. With love. And a snuggle. Nothing more, nothing less. A morale safekeeping measure. Just a bunny and Leon embrace—that’s the extent of it. 

Yes, Leon is a fully grown-ass man, 47 years of age. 

Yes, Leon wants to be held like a baby at night. 

Cuddled and coddled like his very being is God’s greatest gift, entire form smooth and clean and unscathed to the naked eye. Lulled to sleep by the sweet voice of an angel’s singing hymns that might just be the Devil in disguise because that’s just his luck. A comfortably overbearing presence, nonetheless—a personage blanket Leon is in desperate need of. Something to take the weight off his diligent shoulders. 

But when your only seeming purpose in life is to save the world, you don’t get that. You get something between a nonchalant pat on the shoulder, a snobby dick in whatever hole the possessor deems fit, and a fuck-you if you’re unfortunate. What you’ll never get is a little fucking appreciation. Five minutes of fame, maybe. At most. Then you’re back to being pretty much no one. Just another forgettable face in the presidential bootlicker squad. That’s Leon for ya.

He is not conceited for wanting some affection.

(He is conceited for wanting some affection.)

Leon’s master agenda is to get you to spoon him. Shitty. Total shocker. Classic Leon. But by God will he fucking wake up decomposed if he walks touch starved a moment longer. Loneliness is actively disintegrating his skeletal system into fine grains of sand. Melancholy induced osteoporosis. All that’s gonna be left of him is specks of Leon-dust that you’re probably going to snort like coke ‘cause you got ahold of Pulp Fiction. Also ‘cause no one else is coming for him.

Can’t have that happen now, can he? You’re here, he’s here… two’s company or whatever they say. 

Leon’s utilizing the last of his strength into letting the intrusive (instructive) thoughts go. 

“Bunny? You up?” Leon knocks twice, creaks the door to his bedroom open like he doesn’t own the place. 

With a ruffle of the sheets, you peek out from under them. Warm light of his bedside lamp casting this homely glow across your face, like a fireplace, makes Leon feel oddly domesticated—and you’re the pet here. 

You stare blankly at him, like there isn’t a single thought running through that little bunny head of yours. Leon bets it’d echo if he gave a knock or two to the side of your skull, and that is immensely sexy. No.

He gets into bed next to you before something in his mind clicks, the mystery of the navy pile on the floor solving itself. 

“Baby,” Leon’s trying to approach this matter delicately, sneaking glances at the discarded pair of underwear on the floor. His underwear that you’ve been prancing around in all day, given away by the unmistakable choppy hole cut to fit your tail. “You, uh… you leave those on the floor?” 

“Accident.” It’s said simply, playing with your fingers above the sheets. Okay. Leon sees right through you.

“Now, you know that ain’t true, bunny. Remember the rules daddy told you about? Those still apply.” Hand dwarfing both of your cold ones when Leon stills your fidgeting, tries to squeeze the information out of you without giving you a mouthful. “Why’d you take ‘em off?” 

…

“Uncomfy, daddy,” you mumble, still avoiding eye contact, ears back to being flat against your head. 

“Uh-huh,” Leon says unconvinced, stroking his finger along the length of your unusually warm bunny ear, “they weren’t comfy, huh? So you just… threw ‘em on the floor?” Always complaining about your underpants, Leon’s underpants in this scenario. Too tight, too rough, too fast, too hard, too—naughty? “They’re just lying there, baby. We’ve been through this.”

“Sticky.” Is your argument. 

“Sticky…” he repeats thoughtfully, squinting at nothing in particular and trying to figure out what the hell that could mean. ‘Cause rest assured Leon’s boxers are not sticky. Not on their own, and those were a fresh pair. 

“They got sticky. When daddy was kissin’ me.” 

“Hey, I was not—“  

Oh. 

That was real?

And that’s what you meant by sticky. Lord. You’re… naked. Pantless. Pantieless. Bare. Nude. 

Sticky. 

“…Yeah?” Leon breathes out hoarsely, a big horny lump building up in his throat as he speaks. Impossible to swallow, ‘bout as big as your tail. Wouldn’t be surprised if the lump’s somehow made of your fur as well. “They were all sticky, huh, baby? Daddy did that?”

“Mmm,” you nod, absentmindedly flicking against his fingers. “N’ swollen.”

Hearing you describe the way you got all sticky and swollen from Leon kissing you just about did him in. Planted him six feet under along with his dignity. Tout de suite. “You’re gonna give daddy an aneurysm if you keep talking like that, bunny.”

Or an orgasm—possibly both. Not that you even know which either of them mean and yep. You guessed it. Hard again. God. That is not why he came in here. Leon tries his best to be good, he loves you, but you’re just so untiringly hellbent on turning him into a dirty old man. 

(More so beckoning out the already existing dirty old man inside of him. The one whose eyes linger just a little too long on each curve and outline of your body during bath time, the one whose hands accidentally brush against the plushness of your ass, the one who gives you feet rubs just to keep his hands occupied, the one who tickles you to feel another body against his, the one who deliberately feeds you large carrots to watch you struggle to fit them into your mouth.)

“Didn’t know what to do,” you continue, “so bunny was checkin’ what was wrong…” You’re not done? Just exposed your true intentions—you are plotting Leon’s demise. 

“Checking?” Leon swallows hard, hoping you didn’t hear how loud of a fucking sound it just made, “how’d you check?”

“Touch. Touched.”

“…Touched what, bunny?” He asks even if he knows damn well what it is you touched. “You touched yourself between your legs?”

You shrink. 

“Show me, baby.” Lifting your chin, Leon searches for your eyes and lets the perversion sink its venomous, infectious teeth into him. “Show daddy what you did.”

Judging by the anxious chewing on your bottom lip, you’re still a bit shy about the whole thing. 

“It’s okay.” Leon lets go of your hands, giving you a heartfelt yet equally as unbearably horny smile. “Don’t be scared, alright? ‘S just daddy.”

If his arousal was slipping through the cracks of his tight smile, it mustn’t have been very obvious ‘cause you pull down the sheets, revealing your body to Leon. From the cutesy eyelet top with a teensy ribbon adorning the lace that cost him more than a pretty ugly penny, to your naked lower half. Jesus. 

Your hand snakes down your frame, leaving Leon to picture his own hands in imaginary cuffs—for both of your sakes. Thinks he’s about to get the show of his life but you look over at him before going any further, like you’re not sure if it’s okay. Almost makes Leon want to shake you, finish the job himself. 

“Go on, let daddy watch,” he says like he isn’t about to explode. 

Fingers finding your pussy, you aimlessly rub away, movements as uncoordinated and unpracticed as ever and it’s the hottest thing Leon’s fucking witnessed. Producing sticky noises that bounce off the walls the way you should be bouncing on his dick. You let out a small whimper as your ears flop back up. 

“Fuck,” he needs to know, needs something to stroke his ego if something is not stroking his dick, “were you thinking of daddy, baby? Thought of me when you played with yourself?”

“Maybe…” you reply so quietly Leon can’t tell if he imagined that or if it was something you actually said.

He takes it. Wilful hearing’s better than nothing. 

“God, bunny.” Leon wants it to be his hand, his body against yours. He needs to rip off your flimsy top and replace your hand with his. “What were you thinkin’ ‘bout daddy?”

“Daddy. Without a shirt. Daddy’s cute without a shirt.” Only then does it click, the last piece of this lewd puzzle that creates the full image of you with your hand between your thighs. 

“Think daddy should take his shirt off, little girl? So you can see him?” Leon is the dirtiest, filthiest man to ever exist. 

And before you even get a chance to nod, he’s on it. 

Leon’s never taken off his shirt so fast in his life, baring his torso so you get to see the battlefield—the war zone that is his body, cicatrices scattered about like cracks in old porcelain. Relatively tan porcelain ‘cause Leon’s making an effort to dump his vampirish habits lately, D.C. sun don’t do much though. “Still think daddy’s cute?”

You moan, loud, he takes it as a yes. 

“Keep going, baby, don’t stop.”

“Forgot how to…” 

Leon hasn’t indulged in Christ or anything revolving the man—much less his entire religion—since mama passed all those years ago, but right now he’s praying for the strength to keep his hands to himself. Passio Christi, conforta me, o bone Iesu, exaudi me… Uh, how the fuck’s it go again? Imperet illi Deus, my growing erection? Damn. Thyne dicketh shalt not rise? Thyne hands shalt not wander to—fuck this shit. 

He needs to be inside you and he needs it now.

“Aw, it’s okay, bunny, daddy’s here to help.” Leon grabs ahold of your hand, bringing it up to his lips to place an earnest kiss to the back of it, quickly sucks the tips of your slick fingers till they’re dry. “Daddy’ll show you how it’s done, baby. How to touch between your legs.”

“Okay, daddy.”

“So fuckin’ cute, baby,” he pulls you closer, snuggling up against your side and spreading your legs wider, fingers finding your heat. Lets out the biggest sigh of relief anybody’s ever let out, Leon bets. Your stickiness clings to his calloused skin as he circles your clit nice and slow. 

One hand gripping the sheets and the other Leon’s wrist, you mewl and buck your hips. 

“Yeah?” He noses at your neck, inhales deeply till you’re squirming, ears flopping around. “Like it when daddy touches you like this?”

“Mhmm,” you mumble and his dick pokes into your thigh through his sweats like the fucking tower of Pisa. 

Leon moves his hand again, palm cupping your mound and brushing against your clit as his fingers shift down to your slit, gliding up and down. Can’t help the low noise that slips out of him, can’t remember the last time he’s felt a pussy. “Gonna go inside, okay?”

Sliding a single digit inside, you gasp. “Oh!” 

“That’s it, princess, just let daddy take care of you.” You’re sucking him in so tight Leon gets the notion your walls might be intent on getting his finger stuck there forever. To prevent that, he slips another one past your dripping entrance. Leon moves ‘em in and out carefully despite his raging need for you, meeting that sweet spongy spot that has your back arching.

“Daddy!” Poor baby, can barely get the words out through your moans. Leon tries to placate you with neck kisses. “Daddy, what’s happening?”

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, bunny,” he mumbles into your sternum, voice resonating against you, not letting his movements up, “just let yourself feel it, daddy’s got you. ‘M right here, baby.”

Legs kicking, back bending off the bed, thighs snapping shut ‘round his hand—Leon thinks it’s safe to say you’re cumming, first orgasm creeping up on you from your curled toes to your erratically flopping ears. “Ohh!” 

Your walls contract, very obviously trying to milk what they think is a cock ‘cause they know no better. Against the heel of his palm Leon feels your clit twitching in tandem with your nose. Awfully adorable, might just shed a tear. Beautifully guileless you are. 

“Jesus Christ,” Leon beholds the entire thing, your orgasm damn near rubbing off on him—no pun intended—dick so fucking pent up it’s going to take off like a rocket with the final destination being between your legs. “Such a good girl, baby.”

His brain practically short-circuits, thoughts disappearing like erased off a whiteboard. Leon’s heart rate is probably high enough to land his ass in the ER, organ pounding hard and fast in his ribcage the way his dick should in your—No. Self-control. 

(Yes. Very much yes. Self-control went out the window the second he stepped foot into your secret session.)

Panting like you’ve just run a marathon—which, if Leon’s being technical, you sort of have with the way your legs were hopping away into the air like that—you bonelessly loll back. Limbs spread out like a starfish except for the rigid hand gripping his wrist, chest heaving up and down. 

“Made such a big mess, princess,” that you did, slick pooling beneath you and completely coating his fingers. Leon could just… slip right in if he tried. Pull out and replace his digits with his dick. Just like that.

He should take things slow but the realization’s starting to dawn on him, you’re mature enough. Never connected the dots till now but he’s seen the sticky patches in your panties while doing the laundry, noticed the way you walk funny probably ‘cause of that ache between your legs. Leon would be doing you a favor. 

(That is his dick speaking.)

“You trust daddy, don’t you?” He’s already peeling off your top, raising your arms and tugging it off your dampening body. 

“I… trust daddy.” You’re doing that thing again. Looking at Leon in a way that turns him into straight mush. 

Leon’s stomach is doing somersaults, flipping like a fucking gymnast coin. Heads and tails—nausea and arousal. Throw up and kill yourself or fuck the shit out of your baby girl. 

Must’ve landed on tails ‘cause as bad as it sounds, he ain’t gagging or retching or itching to reach for his gun right now. But Leon’s dick is jumping like it’s warming up for something. Even God is scared of what that something may be. 

“You do? That’s… good.” Leon feels a little sick still, can’t tell if it’s ‘cause of how overwhelmingly aroused he is or if it’s your naïveté—the way you blindly put your faith in him. He swallows the feeling, nothing he ain’t had before, seeing monster guts on the daily and all. Kind of used to walking around with a pit of unease in his stomach by now. “Daddy’s sweet little girl.” 

Bringing his fingers slick with your essence on ‘em to your mouth, Leon nods for you to lick them clean. 

And you do. Fuck. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I need you.” Leon says into your throat to spare himself the embarrassment of facing you when he’s about to do such a depraved thing. “Gonna take care of you just a little differently, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” 

Leon pushes down his sweats and boxers while you blink at him. 

“Don’t look, just close your eyes, bunny, take a deeeep breath and count to ten, alright? Might sting a little but daddy’ll be right here. Just hold onto him if things get… rough.” 

Eyes fluttering shut, you take a deep breath, arms wrapped around Leon’s neck as he shifts to brace himself on top of you. Can feel you exhale onto his cheek, scratching yours with his scruff. 

He springs his cock free, shit’s furious. Angry reddish tip after going so long without any action. Slicks his fist up and gives himself a couple of strokes.

“One.” Leon counts with you, forearm already cramping next to your head but he will be damned if he lets that stop him.

“Two.” He lines up the head with your lower lips, taking a deep breath himself, trying to not flatline.

“Three.” You puff out your cheeks, eyes squeezed tightly shut and face pulled into a grimace as Leon pushes forward. 

“Four.” His dick is forced out. Okay.

“Five.” Leon tries again, you whine, snap your legs tighter ‘round his hips. “I know, baby, I know. ‘M sorry.”

“Six.” Shifting forward again, he manages to get an inch inside of you.

“Seven.” Is mumbled into your neck, an attempt to stifle Leon’s groans as he slowly but surely sinks inside of you. 

“Eight.” He’s halfway inside, halfway ready to combust.

“Nine.” Leon pulls himself together, a quarter left ‘fore he’s stretched you out all the way. 

“Ten…” You’re still making this puffed up little face, something between a blow-up doll and childbirth. 

“All done,” he says finely and dandily like he isn’t actively resisting the urge to plow you into oblivion. “So perfect, bunny, look at that.” Leon nods to where you’re bumping uglies. More like his ugly bumping your pretty. Surprisingly without blood. 

Peeling your eyes open, you blink down curiously before the discomfort sets in again. 

“Daddy’ll be gentle, baby,” Leon kisses your face, everywhere he can reach, genuinely unable to stop his hips from starting to rock into yours. “Promise.”

“Daddy…” you’re moaning again, breathy noises spilling past your open mouth as you stare Leon right in his eyes. Thankful that the room’s pretty much dark besides the singular lamp so he doesn’t have to see his reflection in your pupils again—watch himself make the biggest, sexiest mistake of his life. 

“That’s right,” he grunts, holding your body tight like a lifeline, “daddy’s your daddy.” Is the best Leon can come up with ‘cause his mind blanks from the way you’re gripping his dick so fucking tight. Might snap it in half and leave it stuck inside you forever 

Leon fucks you harder, till you’re squealing and till he has to muffle your noises with kisses on the mouth. Till clammy foreheads are pressed against one another’s, till the bed is on its last legs, till damp bodies are sticking together. 

And every word he’s taught you these past couple of months is nothing but a memory. 

Daddy, daddy, daddy! 

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” most beautiful you’ve ever looked—taking your daddy’s cock like a champ, walls pulsating around him. Legs kicking so rabidly your hips hump against Leon’s, unintentionally fucking him back as you drown in your second ever orgasm with a loud gasp. “My perfect little baby bunny.” 

Balls slapping against your ass, Leon tries to rush his first coming so you won’t have to deal with his dick bullying your sensitive insides for much longer. Pushes your shoulders down into the mattress so he can reach deeper, base disappearing into your hole. 

The sight of your face is enough to send Leon over the edge, spilling into you before his somatic system even has time to process what’s going on. Moaning like a pornstar ‘cause it’s been so fucking long. Hips stuttering and stilling, shooting thick hot ropes of cum where one should never shoot thick hot ropes of cum. 

Probably the last of Leon’s sperm storage, would be a miracle if they impregnated you but that’s just a tender and sappy ol’ fantasy. Swears he feels his orgasm prolonging itself by imagining you round with his babies. Lord. 

“I love you,” he’s cupping your face, panting into your mouth and petting your head with shaky hands. 

“Daddy…” tip of your nose brushing against his, Leon’s heart twists at your earnest declaration, “bunny loves daddy.”

Leon savours the moment, waiting a couple of minutes before pulling out of you with a sticky pop! and watching his load drip out of you. Body going slack—worn out from all the banging, you blink at him heavy-lidded, lazy fucked-out smile lining your lips. 

He flops down next to you, sweaty and guilty and out of breath. 

Shit, everybody’s gonna know, see right through Leon like the fucking ghost he is. Smell your bunny scent on him. If he didn’t already get the judgmental, knowing once-overs at the office then, you best believe he will now. 

Claire’s going to bite him in the ass for having been balls deep inside you. Hunnigan’s gonna let out one of those disappointed mother sighs she does on the regular, Rebecca and Sherry will look at him like vintage damsels in distress. Chris is going to go Oh my God, Leon in his constipated voice, Jill won’t even spare him a second glance. Ashley will gasp and clutch her heart like it is the biggest betrayal since the ‘09 presidential election. 

When the day comes, he’ll take it, face it like a man. 

(Take Matilda in his hand and set you free.)

But when you cuddle up against him all sweetly like that, spooning Leon like he’s your personal oversized teddy bear, he might just reconsider. Reconsider taking the easy way out, reconsider his position, might retire and take on the full-time job of being your Daddy for the rest of his life. 

Leon’s got everything he needs right here. He is ready for the long haul that might be the next couple of decades of his life, or the next twenty-four hours. 

[edamameimei]

it's us against the world

"i'd thank my lucky stars but it's tearing me apart 'cause you don't see us like i do, you don't see us from my view."

pairing: daniela avanzini x reader!7th member

synopsis: the question that everyone always asks daniela is when she's going to tell you how she feels. but no one understands. it's a risk she isn't willing to take, especially if it means losing you and everything you two have built with each other over the past two years.

fluff, might get angsty here and there but mainly fluff :) cw: swearing, kissing

a/n: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only.

wc: 5186

now playing: i do - renee rapp

Daniela realizes she has feelings for you when she’s 19 years old. 

“Do you know what time it is?” 

Daniela looks at you, her cheek pressed against her knees. She has her legs pulled up to her chest, hugging them in an attempt to keep them warm from the cold breeze. She sits with you on a blanket on the beach. After a long and tiring day of training, she lit up at your idea of sitting by the ocean for a few hours. She ignored your warnings to wear sweatpants and opted to wear your hoodie and shorts for the outing. But as you give her a knowing smirk, Daniela silently regrets her choices. She shrugs in response to your question, shivering slightly due to the wind picking up. You scoot closer to her, taking off your flannel. She picks her head up, opening her mouth to protest but you’re already draping the material over her legs. You pat her knees playfully, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to provide her more warmth. Daniela leans into your touch, resting her head against your shoulder and closes her eyes. 

“Don’t say anything smart.” She says, hugging your arm tightly. You hum in response, letting out a soft chuckle. You grab her hand, lacing your fingers together. You whisper, teasingly, “I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Daniela pulls away slightly and scoffs. She jabs a finger into your side and it causes you to bite your lip, trying to contain your squeal. She does it again, and again, wanting to annoy you but you won’t let her win. You grab her wrists, pulling her closer to you. She laughs loudly as you wrap your arms around her, picking her up effortlessly. She ends up being the one squealing as you run toward the water.

“Y/n L/n! You BETTER not!” Your laughter rings in her ears and she wonders if this is what poets mean when they write about love. And she wonders if you feel the same way. 

On your days off from training and development, Daniela takes it as an opportunity to simply relax. 

She sits cross-legged on her bed, glasses perched on her nose, reading the newest book you got her from the bookstore. She plays with the string of yet another hoodie she stole from you, her brows furrowed as she becomes entranced by the story in front of her. She is about to turn the page but is pulled out of her thoughts when she hears a loud snore beside her. Daniela turns her head, glaring at your sleeping form. You’re curled up on her bed, phone still in your hand. You must have fallen asleep at one point while you were scrolling through TikTok. She notices your glasses have become askew and your mouth hangs open slightly. Your free arm hugs a plushie you brought from your dorm close to your chest and makes Daniela’s glare soften. 

She reaches out, slowly taking your glasses off your face and places them on the nightstand. She grabs your phone and plugs it into her charger. She takes another look at you, admiring how pretty you looked even when you were peacefully snoring. Daniela threads her fingers through your hair, her book long forgotten as she looks at you. From across the room, Manon clears her throat loudly and Daniela looks up at her with wide eyes. She forgot her roommate was still in the room. Manon looks at Daniela with a teasing glint in her eyes and smirks. “I took a picture of you two, I can send it if you want.” The Latina rolls her eyes in response, retracting her hand from your hair. She looks down at her lap, her cheeks burning. She mumbles, “Yeah, can I have it?” Manon laughs, cackling as she grabs her phone to send Daniela the pictures. She doesn’t look up when she asks her next question. “Are you gonna tell them?” Daniela glances at you again, checking to see if you were still asleep. Your soft snores answer her question and it makes the Latina smile. “One day. We’ll see.” 

You pout as you look at yourself in the mirror, hands on your hips, breathing heavily. You once again made a mistake in the choreography and it’s starting to piss you off. At this point in Dream Academy, you knew there wasn’t any room for less than perfect. There were seven spots to fill and you were determined to be one of them, even if it was the last and only spot. You take a deep breath, preparing to do the routine once more. As you are about to restart the music, you feel a tug on your arm. You look at Daniela, a small frown on your lips. She knows how hard you’ve been working– she thinks you’re the hardest worker out of everyone. There were nights where Daniela would watch you trudge tiredly to your dorm at 3 AM. There are moments in practice when she’d notice a slight limp in your leg. The Latina often worries about you and you have repeatedly told her that everything is fine. 

But Daniela would be damned if she didn’t debut with you. 

She places her hands on your hips, looking at you softly. Worry radiates off of her and you place your hands on her shoulders, squeezing them gently. You tilt your head, putting on a playful smile. But she sees right through your facade. She knows you too damn well but the least you could do is try to put up a front. Daniela keeps her eyes on you and whispers, “We’re in this together, remember?” You nod slowly in response, but the look in your eyes tells her otherwise. She knows you’re struggling and she is determined to help you no matter what. Daniela pulls away from you, taking a step back. She twirls her finger and points toward the mirror. “Come on, I’m gonna show you.” You raise a curious eyebrow at her, letting out a soft chuckle, “Daniela, come on–” She points toward the mirror again, a fierce look in her eyes. “Y/n so help me God! Turn your ass around so we can figure this shit out together!” 

You raise your hands in defense, immediately turning around to face the mirror. She huffs in relief, stepping forward again. She places her hands on your hips and pulls you flush against her. Daniela rests her chin on your shoulder, looking into the mirror. She feels her cheeks begin to burn and she can’t help but feel frozen in place. You weren’t even doing anything, yet it was driving the Latina insane. She planned to guide you, to show you how the choreography goes. But her thoughts run wild, especially when she spots you smirking at her through the mirror. “What?” She whispers, her hands on your hips tightening. 

You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders as you look at Daniela’s reflection. “Sorry. I’ve never had a hot Latina this close to me… I was getting nervous.” Your comment causes her to scoff loudly, pushing you. She walks away, her head down to hide the blush painting her entire face. She feels hot all over and she can’t help but feel annoyed with your presence at the moment. You walk over to her, your eyes wide. 

“Wait, Dani! I still need your help! Dani!” Why she has such a huge crush on you? She isn't sure. But the way you wrap your arms around her waist and hold her close. The way you look at her as if she were the most important person in your life– she knows it just makes sense to fall in love with you.

Daniela sits with you on the floor of her shared dorm with Manon, shoulders touching and shaking with laughter as you finish telling her an embarrassing story from high school. She wipes her eyes, shaking her head at you. You talked about when you tried asking out a girl you were convinced you were in love with back then. However, it ended in disaster with you not getting the girl and instead got a broken arm. The Latina looks at you with a playful smile, her eyes twinkling with happiness. Over the past year, you have become her favorite person. Daniela loves everything about you. It has come to the point where seeing you has become the highlight of her entire day. 

Daniela loves how you light up an entire room with just your smile. She loves how you work so hard, yet take the time to make sure everyone else is doing okay. She loves the softer side of you, the part of you coaches and judges don’t get to see. Everyone knows how confident you are, but Daniela is the only one that knows what lengths it took you to get to that point. She takes pride in being your best friend, the person you completely rely on. And it scares her shitless when she realizes that could be all over tomorrow during the live show. Her face falls when she thinks about it, the twinkle in her eye dimming slightly. Like always, you notice. Of course you do. You cup her cheek and smile softly, your thumb caressing her face gently. “What’s up?” You ask quietly. The Latina bites her lip, suddenly feeling very vulnerable in front of you. 

She doesn’t quite know what to say. She sits there, looking at you with an unreadable expression. You’re about to ask her again but she raises her pinky, her lip quivering slightly. “Promise we’ll stay just like this after tomorrow. No matter what happens.” You open your mouth to respond but she covers it with her hand, a serious look in her eyes. “Do not make a stupid fucking joke right now, Y/n. I am being dead serious.” Your eyes widen, saying a muffled, ‘I wasn’t!’ behind her hand. She slowly retracts it, eyeing you suspiciously before bringing her pinky back up. You roll your eyes before linking your pinky with hers, bringing it to your lips and kissing it softly. You never break eye contact with her, keeping your gaze on her as you whisper, “I promise I’m not going anywhere,” You tilt your head, a sincerity in your eyes as you continue, “We’re gonna stay just like this even after what happens tomorrow.” 

Daniela lets out a sigh of relief. She brings your pinky to her lips, copying your actions from earlier and kisses it gently. She giggles when you pull her into your arms, hugging her tightly. 

Another thing about you that Daniela loves is that you never break a promise. 

She squeals excitedly as you spin her around in your arms, happiness spreading throughout both your bodies. She holds onto you tightly, smiling widely because you’re debuting. Not only that, you’re debuting together. When you finally put her down, you don’t let go of each other. While everyone else celebrates, you only look at each other. It’s as if this world was made solely just for the two of you. You look at Daniela with a teasing smile, “I guess you’re stuck with me.” The Latina pulls you into another hug. She leans close to your ear and whispers, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

It was one thing to live in the dorms with you. But now a whole house? Daniela finds it harder to hide her feelings from you. 

After you and the other six girls competed against each other for the solo room in the house, completing task after task for the sake of Katseye content, you came out victorious in the end while the others had to share their space. You sit next to Yoonchae, watching in amusement as Daniela and Manon try to argue with Megan and Lara about the rules. You glance at Sophia, who gives you a knowing look back. 

“That’s the POINT of the GAME!” Megan shouts at the two girls standing, the game becoming more intense as it continues. Daniela looks at you, her eyes pleading. “Y/n! Give us some back up!” You widen your eyes, immediately shaking your head. You raise your hands in distress. “No, no. Don’t put me in this argument–” Lara cuts you off, raising a finger, “This isn’t an argument, we’re just clarifying the rules.” Megan peeks out from behind her, pointing a finger at you, “No! Are you kidding me? We’re asking Y/n? They’ll just take Daniela’s side– They always do this!” You sit up from the couch, leaning forward to argue her point. Suddenly, you and Megan begin bickering back and forth, forgetting the entire game. 

“Name one time I took Dani’s side!” You sit back on the couch, crossing your arms playfully. You look at the camera with a faux serious expression, “I’ll wait.” Megan begins her list, starting from the very beginning of training and development. You keep your eyes on the camera as she continues, but it has become very obvious that you have lost your argument. Your serious expression begins to crumble as Daniela comes into frame. She sits on your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck. She leans in close to you and pouts, tilting her head to add to her puppy dog expression. “Y/n… Please just say me and Manon get the point…” 

You keep your expression deadpan at the camera. “That did not look like the Olympics to me. I don’t even know what the fu- freak you were doing.” Daniela pushes off of you, stomping away from the camera as everyone erupts in laughter. Yoonchae sits on the couch, her ears covered as Sophia covers her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. Daniela looks at you with a frown, but she knows you won’t take it seriously. She knows you’re just as happy as she is. You look at her, throwing a wink in her direction and it causes her to roll her eyes, biting her lip to contain her smile. 

“You know I love you, right?” You yell at her and she flips you off, the action not caught on camera. 

But she loves you too. She loves you in more ways than you would ever know. And it tears her apart every time she remembers that you don’t.

Daniela opens the door to your room, not even bothering to knock. She walks inside and flops onto your bed, sticking her tongue at you when you glance at her with an annoyed expression. You were songwriting at your desk before she came in and you were somewhat in the zone. But of course, Daniela had to make herself comfortable in your room. She does this often, going into your room unannounced. She did this at the dorms and has now found her routine doing it at the house. But Daniela knows you don’t mind. She knows you would have already set that boundary by now. She rolls onto her stomach, propping herself up with her elbows and rests her chin against her palms. “Do you wanna get dinner with me?” She hears you snicker at her question.

“Are you asking me on a date?” Daniela freezes for a moment. She looks away from you, suddenly feeling shy. That was not what she was doing and she knew you were just joking, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight aching in her chest. She wants more than anything for it to be a date, for something more with you. But she hasn’t found the courage to cross that line with you. And she isn’t sure if you felt the same way. Sure, you two were always together, always needing to be touching, maybe even making flirtatious comments toward one another. But something Daniela has come to realize about you is that you are always like that. The Latina doesn’t want to admit it, but it irks her whenever you flirt with the other members. She can’t help but stare when you’re sitting in someone else’s lap or when you kiss their cheek after they’ve done something for you. 

She hates it even more when you’re like that with Eyekons and she doesn’t know why. 

It has become one of your bits lately to flirt with the fans. Whether that be through the Weverse DMs or lives, you never fail to make Eyekons go crazy with your outrageous comments. She remembers one time when you told an Eyekon to their face how they were exactly your type. It took everything in Daniela to not lose her shit on the spot. The way the fan giggled at your words, the way they hugged you so tightly afterwards. Daniela wanted to pull you away and show you exactly who your type was. But the Latina wouldn’t know that information. She would like to imagine she was everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. 

But here she was, feeling shy over the fact you suggested that she was asking you on a date. 

In Daniela fashion though, she clicks her tongue, getting off your bed. She walks toward you, pulling you out of your chair by your hoodie. You stumble slightly as Daniela pulls you onto your feet and drags you out of your room. You were smart enough to not fight her, and you were even smarter to grab her keys for her before being manhandled out the door. If you were going anywhere with Daniela, she prefers to be the one driving. 

“Mami, can you take a picture of me?” Daniela looks up from her phone, ignoring the way her breath hitched when she heard what you called her. You and Daniela were currently in one of the practice rooms together, planning for the upcoming MAMA performance. You two had been bouncing ideas off of each other, building the choreography. They were just ideas of course, but you two couldn’t contain your excitement. After everything you both went through together, you now had the opportunity to truly showcase your skills as performers. At MAMA, of all events. Every time Daniela watched you during practice, she would swell up with pride. You have grown into yourself, becoming much more self-assured. She remembers how insecure you were in the beginning of your journey, afraid of what everyone would think of you. 

Now, everyone loved you. And you knew that. 

Daniela stands up, stretching. You and her had been taking a break for a few minutes after practicing for so long. You hand her your phone and she pulls up the camera app, pointing it toward you. She couldn’t help the way her eyes widened when you pulled your shirt off, revealing you only in your sports bra. Her mouth goes dry and she tries to play it cool but she can’t deny how mesmerizing you are. You were currently wearing a pair of baggy black jeans and the band of your Kleins poke out just enough for everyone’s imagination. Daniela watches as you adjust them slightly, your stomach flexing as you do so. The Latina takes a quick picture, knowing you’d appreciate the candid moment. 

(Also, to send to herself, she admits). 

You look up at the camera, unaware of how Daniela blatantly checks you out from behind your phone. For your first pose, you decide to cross your arms over your chest, smirking at the camera. “How’s this?” You ask and Daniela just nods, giving you a thumbs up. “You look hot, baby.” You chuckle, satisfied. She takes a few pictures of you, all from different angles. Daniela directs your poses, telling you which ones to do and what kind of expression to give the camera. Throughout the photography session, Daniela couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. She thought being around you during Dream Academy was difficult. But now being in the same group as you? This was her own personal hell. And the fact you were going to post these photos for Eyekons to see and thirst over? It makes the girl’s eye twitch at the thought. 

After a few more photos, and you picked the ones you’d share, you two begin practicing again. Daniela notices how you don’t put your shirt back on once you both get back on track. 

Daniela Avanzini never makes a mistake. But boy, was she slipping up for the rest of the night. 

It’s a random Tuesday when Manon randomly decides to ask Daniela the question that has been on everyone’s mind for two years. 

“Is one day soon? Or are you guys gonna keep having this weird homoerotic friendship for the rest of our lives?” Daniela looks away from her vanity and glares at Manon. “Why would you say that?” The Ghanaian girl rolls her eyes, throwing a pillow at Daniela from across the room. Daniela manages to swat it away, looking back at the mirror to finish her make-up. “Manon! I was literally in the middle of doing my eyebrows.” She hears Manon sigh loudly in response. “Dani… Babe,” Manon looks at the Latina with an exasperated look as she continues, “You’ve been in love with them since you were 19. You’re turning 21 in like, four months.” Daniela continues to ignore her, leaning in closer to her mirror to do finishing touches on her make-up. Manon gets up from her bed and walks over to Daniela. She crosses her arms, looking at the other girl with a disapproving look. “What’s the hold up?” 

Daniela shrugs, still not looking away from the mirror. “I’m not ruining our friendship.” It’s a simple response, but it holds a lot more weight than she wants to lead on. Daniela knows better than anyone else how long it has been and she knows it's been a secret for far too long. But to risk losing the best thing that has ever happened to her? She’d rather die. Manon sits on Daniela’s bed, frowning. “Dani, that’s literally not gonna happen. I bet all of the money on our next paycheck that Y/n feels the same way,” She leans closer, whispering playfully, “And I heard the next one is a good one.” Daniela scoffs, placing the cap back onto her lipstick. She sets it down and looks at herself in the mirror one last time. She finds herself lost in thought for a moment as she thinks about the possibility of you loving her back. 

She thinks about holding your hand in public, going on dates with you, being able to call you hers officially. 

The sound of the door opening brings her out of her daydream. Daniela snaps her head toward the sound and sees you standing at the doorway. You’re dressed nicely, hands in your pocket, as you look at Daniela with a gentle smile. “Ready to go, Mami?” Manon turns her head back to look at Daniela with a raised eyebrow. She whispers, “This whole time you were getting ready just to hang out with Y/n? You’re joking.” Daniela glares at her roommate, standing up from her vanity and walks over to you, pretending the conversation that was happening previously never happened. She holds onto your arm and you two begin making your way toward the front door. Before you leave, you hear Manon shout, “Have fun on your date!” 

You look at Daniela with a teasing smile. “Is this a date?” Daniela pushes you in response, covering her face in embarrassment as you lead her to your car. 

Daniela lies in bed one night, watching your live that you randomly decided to do. You had asked the Latina if she would like to join, but if she were being honest, she was quite tired of hiding her new hair from Eyekons. The TikToks were fun, but it was becoming such a hassle trying to hide her hair in her beanie. And by the time you asked her, she was already cozy in bed with her glasses on. She giggles softly at something you say during the live, her smile getting wider as she watches you continue awkwardly telling a story to the Eyekons about something that happened today.

The Latina has come to the conclusion that she is undeniably in love with you. And she isn’t sure how long she can keep up with her secret. 

Watching you grow into the person you are now, the person on the screen, has made Daniela realize just how amazing you are. At first, when she first started to realize her feelings for you, she thought it was a fleeting feeling. If she ignored it long enough, it would go away eventually. However, the more she tried ignoring it, the more she fell for you. With every silly smile you threw her, every quip and joke, your charming personality, it only drew the Latina closer to you. Even as two years came and went, the relationship between you and Daniela never changed. You promised and it was a promise you upheld with every fibre of your being. And Daniela is grateful that you are still the same person she met all those years before. 

She continues watching you, adoration clear in her eyes. At some point, the topic of conversation shifted and you began talking about relationships you’ve had in the past. It makes Daniela grimace slightly but she tries to remind herself that it was only the past. Meaning, they no longer exist in your life. She watches as you nervously rub the back of your neck when you talk about the people you were with in high school. Suddenly, you lean in closer to the screen, a comment obviously catching your eye. You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Daniela furrows her brow, curious as to what you read. 

“If you could date anyone in the group, who would it be? Um… Dani, for sure,” Your words hit the Latina. Her heart begins to beat out of her chest as she continues listening to you, “But, I’m pretty sure I’m not her type though so… That’s kind of disappointing.” You laugh again, but Daniela notices a shift in your mood. The way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your face falls slightly but you quickly read another comment as if to hide what you’re truly feeling. It makes Daniela’s head spin and before she can stop herself, she hops out of bed and runs out of the room. 

You’re replying to more comments when you hear a banging on your door. You jump slightly at the unexpected interruption, turning around in your seat. You look back at the camera with a sheepish smile. “Hold on, pardon the interruption, chat.” You get up from the chair, walking to the door. When you open it, you smile happily when you see your best friend. However, your smile falters when you notice the Latina slightly in distress. You whisper, “Are you okay? I can end the live…” Daniela only nods in response, biting her lip. You quickly turn around, running toward the camera with an apologetic look in your eyes. “Sorry guys, duty calls. We’ll talk soon, okay?” You wave goodbye, ending the live. You turn toward the Latina with a worried expression. 

“Dani? Are you–” She cuts you off, grabbing your face. She presses her lips against yours forcefully, but softly at the same time. The way she kisses you is almost desperate, as if she had been waiting to do it for a very long time. But you immediately respond, placing your hands on her hips because this was exactly what you’ve been waiting for. You pull her closer, your hands reaching up to thread into her hair. She lets out a soft sigh and it drives you even crazier. Her lips move against yours in a rhythm that makes you believe you were meant to be right here, with her. She pulls away for a moment, catching her breath. When you open your eyes, you see a slight daze in her eyes and it makes your heart beat rapidly. “What was that for?” You ask, breathless, a smile playing at your lips as you hear her giggle. 

Daniela cups your cheeks with her hands and looks at you lovingly. She bites her lip, “I do…” She lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at the ground for a brief second before looking back up at you with the same loving stare. “I mean– you are. Exactly my type. Literally everything I could want in a partner so…” You tilt your head, your grin growing bigger. “So?” Daniela kisses you again. This time, it was much more gentle. Her hands move from your cheeks to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. Two years is a long time, but it was so worth the wait. 

You’re playing a game with Yoonchae when Daniela walks into the room, throwing her phone at you. 

Your eyes widen, wincing when it hits your chest. Yoonchae glances at Daniela, noticing the agitated look in her eyes. She takes it as her cue to leave, pausing the game. She leans toward you and whispers, “I think you’re cooked.” You look at Yoonchae, confused. The Korean girl only stands up from the couch, making a beeline out of the room. Daniela continues looking at you, slightly annoyed. You extend your arms out to her, gesturing for her to come and hug you. “What’s up, Mami?” Daniela ignores your arms and points at you, her expression becoming more serious. “Keep flirting with Eyekons over Weverse. See what happens.” Your mouth gapes open in realization, then suddenly, you begin to laugh. 

Daniela was jealous over your messages on Weverse? 

Your laughter subsides when you notice Daniela not laughing with you and instead, her expression is even deadlier, if that was even possible. You grab her phone, unlocking it to see the damage you made on Weverse. You had to admit– these were pretty bad. You stand up from the couch, handing the phone back to your girlfriend. You pout, “No more flirting.” Daniela nods, crossing her arms. She murmurs something under her breath but it was too quiet for you to hear. You frown, pulling her into your arms. She keeps her arms crossed as you whisper into her ear, “What was that, baby?” She sighs, resting her head on your shoulder. She whispers back, “People need to know you’re mine.” You chuckle softly, holding her closer. You kiss the top of her head. “I think I can figure something out. You know, without getting in trouble with the boss.” You feel her laugh in your arms and she uncrosses her arms, hugging you back. 

You: dany/n truthers 

You: are yall in the building? 

You: the superior ship so true 

You: im lowk a simp for her but that stays between us 

Dani: what did y/n say in their dms?

Dani: we’re the superior ship LMAOOO

Dani: they wish <3

a/n: do you guys get nervous every time i post a new fic bc u think ill break ur heart? i promise im not that mean LOL i hope u guys enjoyed, lmk what u think. fluff bc ive been feelin pretty good lately. <3

requests are open

[starkwlkr]

i gave so many signs | mark webber

an: instead of mark announcing this retirement in early 2013, it’ll be announced at the end of the 2013 season

part 1

2013

For the past week, Y/n and Mark had avoided each other. It was complicated since their place of work required them to see each other daily, but somehow they didn’t speak one word to each other.

After the race, while Y/n talked with Sergio Perez, a Red Bull strategist approached them interrupting their conversation.

“Mark needs to speak with you.” The strategist told Y/n.

“Tell him he can come tell that himself.” Y/n tried to continue her conversation, but the strategist insisted.

“He said it’s very important and to bring the papers . . .” The strategist wasn’t sure what ‘bring the papers’ meant but either way he delivered the message.

That was enough for Y/n to apologize to Sergio for cutting their conversation short and leaving to find Mark. Well, her first stop was to retrieve her bag then find Mark. How did he know about the papers? It was a mystery to her.

She knew Mark was in his drivers room so she made her way to him. She also knew he wasn’t in the best mood. One word. Multi-21. Y/n had witnessed it. It was heartbreaking to watch so she would occasionally look down at her wedding ring and play with it.

When she finally made it to Mark’s room, she lightly knocked. “Yeah?” She heard Mark’s soft voice call out. Y/n opened the door and saw a worn out Mark seated on the floor. Once he saw her, he sat up straight and cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you would come. . .”

“How do you know?” She got straight to the point.

Mark knew what she was talking about. Last month he had found divorce papers on the kitchen counter of their shared home. Y/n was out running errands and Mark had come back early from the Gym.

Mark didn’t look up right away. He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before finally meeting her gaze.

“I know you’re not happy,” he said, voice thick with exhaustion. “And I’m not either. So let me sign them, and we’ll each go our separate ways.”

Y/n tightened her grip on the papers. For a moment, she hesitated. She had come here fully expecting this outcome—after all, Mark had sent a strategist to find her, to tell her to meet him here and bring the papers. He was ready. He had made his choice.

A part of her still believed there was something to salvage. That maybe, despite all the fights, despite the growing distance, they could fix it. That this—whatever this was—wasn’t the end of them.

But then she thought about what Mark really wanted. What he had always wanted.

A family. A home. Something she wasn’t willing to give up everything for. She had worked too hard, fought too long to be where she was, to have a career that meant everything to her. And the truth was, she knew Mark wouldn’t be the one making the sacrifices.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat and took slow, measured steps toward him. Without another word, she held out the papers.

Mark took them, his hands steady as he flipped to the last page. The only sound in the room was the scratch of his pen against the paper as he signed his name.

And then it was done.

They sat in silence for a while, both staring at the floor, neither one sure what to say now that the inevitable had finally happened. It wasn’t an argument, it wasn’t explosive—it was just over.

Mark turned his head slightly, looking at her with something unreadable in his expression. “I hope you can be happy,” he murmured.

Y/N swallowed hard before nodding. “You too.” She hesitated, then added, “Maybe with someone who can give you what you want.”

Mark shook his head, a sad smile ghosting over his lips. “No,” he said softly. “That won’t happen. Because I want that with you.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a fleeting second, she thought about what could’ve been. But it was too late. It had been too late for a long time.

So she nodded, turned on her heel, and walked out the door.

2023

The air was thick with tension and anticipation, the sound of engines roaring down the straight filling the garage as McLaren’s pit crew stood ready. It was the first race of the season, and Oscar’s rookie year. Y/n felt the familiar pulse of adrenaline coursing through her veins, but beneath it, a layer of nerves simmered.

As she moved to step into the garage, someone else did at the same time. Their shoulders brushed, the unexpected contact making them both pause.

Mark.

For a second, neither of them spoke. They hadn’t spoken in years, hadn’t even acknowledged each other in the paddock despite the countless times they had been in the same space.

Y/n muttered a quiet, “Excuse me,” and stepped aside to let him through, treating him like he was just another person in the garage, just another face in the paddock.

Mark didn’t like it.

"Y/n," he said firmly.

She sighed, already exhausted by the conversation she knew was coming. “Mark, I have a job to do.”

“I know. And you’re brilliant at it. But I need to talk to you.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is,” he insisted, lowering his voice. “I miss you.”

Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t let it show. “Mark…”

“I don’t care about kids anymore,” he cut in before she could protest. “That was years ago. We’re older now. Things are different.”

She inhaled sharply, stepping back. “You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” He tilted his head. “It’s the truth.”

“Because—” Her breath hitched, her vision blurring. “Because I ruined everything.”

Mark’s brows furrowed. “Y/n…”

She shook her head, her hands trembling. “I didn’t even think about it, Mark. I could’ve had both—I could’ve had a career and a family, but I didn’t even try. I was so fucking stubborn, so afraid of losing what I worked for that I didn’t see that I was losing you.”

Mark’s face softened, his expression pained as he reached for her. This time, she didn’t pull away. His hands settled gently on her arms, grounding her.

“I would’ve waited for you,” he murmured. “I would’ve figured it out with you. I didn’t want just a family, Y/n—I wanted you.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips as she shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together, but it was no use. The years of regret, of what-ifs, of missed chances—they crashed over her all at once.

Mark pulled her in without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her as she broke down against his chest.

“You didn’t ruin everything,” he whispered into her hair. “We’re here. Right now. We can still—” He swallowed hard. “We can still try.”

She clung to him, her mind racing, her heart aching. She wanted to believe him. She really did. But could she forgive herself? Could she let herself have this again?

She didn’t have an answer.

But for the first time in a decade, she let herself hold onto him, just for a little while longer.

Y/n didn’t know how long they stood there. Seconds? Minutes? It didn’t matter. Because for the first time in ten years, she wasn’t just existing alongside him—she was with him. And it hurt. God, it fucking hurt.

She pulled back, wiping her face with the sleeve of her McLaren jacket, her hands unsteady. “I should get back,” she muttered, her voice still thick with emotion.

Mark frowned, reluctant to let go, but he dropped his arms. “Y/n—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This—whatever this is—this conversation shouldn’t be happening.”

His jaw tightened. “Why not?”

Y/n’s breath was unsteady, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to get a grip on herself. She needed to leave before she said something she couldn’t take back.

But Mark wasn’t letting her go that easily.

“Why do you do this?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Why do you push me away and then act like it hurts you just as much?”

Before she could think—before she could stop herself—her hands shot up, grabbing his face, and she kissed him. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate and angry, all clashing teeth and bottled-up regret.

For a moment, Mark didn’t react, frozen in shock. And then he did, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer like he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers again.

And then reality hit.

Y/N pulled back, her lips tingling, her mind reeling.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, eyes wide.

Mark barely had time to process before her palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, stinging slap.

“What the fuck?” He staggered back, touching his face in disbelief.

She was just as stunned as him, her hand trembling. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

His nostrils flared, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t understand you, woman!”

“Neither do I!” she shot back, throwing her hands in the air.

They stood there, breathing heavily, both looking like they wanted to strangle each other and kiss again all at once.

And that’s when Oscar appeared at the entrance of the garage. The poor rookie froze, wide-eyed, like a kid who had just walked in on his parents fighting. He looked at Mark. Then Y/n Then back at Mark.

Neither of them acknowledged him.

Oscar awkwardly cleared his throat. Nothing.

Alright. Cool. He’d just . . . pass through.

With the stiffest posture known to man, Oscar walked between them, silently making his way to his car, pretending he was not in the middle of some extremely personal, possibly violent lover’s quarrel.

The moment he was gone, Mark threw his hands up. “See?! Even Oscar thinks we’re fucking insane!”

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, I do!”

“You kissed me!” Mark accused, pointing at her.

“And then I slapped you!”

“What kind of insane logic—”

“I panicked!”

Mark dragged a hand down his face. “You are impossible!”

“And you are unbelievable!” Y/n’s voice cracked, all the pent-up emotions clawing their way out. “You show up here, after years, and act like—like we can just fix this? Like none of it mattered?”

Mark’s nostrils flared. “It did matter.”

“Then why did you let me go?”

Mark exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t do that, Y/n.”

“Do what? Speak the truth? Say the things you don’t want to hear?” She let out a hollow laugh. “I gave you so many signs, Mark. So many signs that I wasn’t happy, that I needed you to fight for us. But you didn’t. You just—let me go.”

Mark scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You really think I didn’t see it?” His voice was lower now, rough. “I felt it. Every time you pulled away. Every time work came first. Every time I looked at you and wondered if you even wanted this anymore.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, something inside her cracking. Silence fell between them, thick with everything unsaid.

Oscar, still sitting awkwardly in the car, looked between them again and let out a quiet sigh. Yeah, they’re definitely still in love.

She looked at Mark—really looked at him. The sharp crease between his brows, the tired weight in his eyes, the way his fists clenched like he was bracing for her to say something he didn’t want to hear.

And for the first time, she saw it for what it was.

They had spent years running in circles, trying to fix something that had been broken long before either of them admitted it.

“We weren’t good for each other back then,” she finally said, her voice quiet but firm.

Mark’s jaw tightened.

“And we’re not good for each other now.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth, Mark.” Y/n exhaled, shaking her head. “We tore each other apart without even meaning to. And we’re still doing it.”

Mark stared at her, the fight in him flickering—fading into something worse.

Acceptance.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The only sounds in the garage were the distant hum of engines and the occasional radio crackle.

Finally, Mark swallowed, nodding stiffly. “So that’s it?”

Y/n’s chest ached, but she nodded. “Yeah.”

And that was the cruelest part of it all.

They had loved each other. Really loved each other. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. Sometimes, no matter how much you wanted to rewrite the past, the ending was already written.

tags!!

@hc-dutch

[niuttuc]

Alright, I'll start with the bad news, no dedicated ecological treaty or animal husbandry guides are available, for free or not. The story tends to focus on people and their interactions, with animals being described but mostly a background element.

I do believe Indriks are based on Indricotherium, though they only appear on a few cards. They're found on the world of Ravnica, one that has been for millenia covered in an Ecumenopolis of the same name. This likely caused plenty of ecosystems to collapse, even with dedicated people to try to prevent that. While there are still wild animals that adapted to the cityscape, Indriks we see are domesticated, used as beasts of labors. If you want to look into creatures of Ravnica, it's notable to know the Simic are also involved on the world, one of the main factions of the set that are dedicated to healing and biological manipulation. They create all sorts of impossible or improbably biologies, held together with magic.

Now for the dinos...

Most of the dinos you picked out come from the world of Ixalan (and the continent of Ixalan, mostly because whomever named the world didn't bother to ask if there were other parts to the world before spreading the name.) It's not the only world with Dinosaurs, but it's likely the one where they have the most prominent presence.

Ixalan (the continent) is based on meso-america, and the dominant force on the continent is the Sun Empire. Dinosaurs dominate the ecosystem there, and the Sun Empire domesticated them for work and war both. Wild ones are still plentiful though. They come in all shapes and size, and were instrumental in beating back the Vampire Conquistadors coming to colonize the place from the europe-inspired continent of Torrezon.

(The conquistadors also accidentally awakened their Vampire Jesus-equivalent who rested on Ixalan, she took one look at them and asked what the fuck they were doing, and promptly left for home to stop this "Holy" Crusade she thought was an abomination. A schism ensued.)

Ixalan's most recent set revealed a Journey to the Center of the Earth-style underground inner world to Ixalan from which the current people of the surface emigrated long ago before losing contact. It also has its dinosaurs. Note the horizon curving up.

You can find many dinosaurs on Ixalan, from ones that try to match real species to quite a few fictitious ones. On the ground, flying in the air, or swimming in the ocean. Here's a link to the cards depicting Dinosaurs on Ixalan.

Ixalan is also the world Mischievous Pup is from! And it is a Xolo. If you want to read more about Ixalan, as a world, there are free worldbuilding summary articles here and here for the first visit to the world, and here for the second. Such free world guides are available for most worlds in the past fifteen years, they're good nuggets of worldbuilding.

There is also a free planeshift Ixalan pdf about converting the world to a D&D campaign because Wizards of the Coast, that has some more worldbuilding elements, mostly lifted straight from the Art Book: Ixalan, which is NOT free, a physical book, and has a ton of art and lore from the world.

As far as Gigantosaurus, we don't know exactly where its from, what it eats, or how it works. This one promo art does make it impossibly huge, there's a few creatures on that scale in magic. I tend to assume it's an artistic license to justify the stats because it raises too many questions or not, they tend not to appear in stories, or when they do, not be nearly as large as they're made out to be in art. But one could imagine a magic-based biology that'd either allow them to survive at that size or to temporarily grow to it in response to threats.

Preposterous Proportions IS very funny. Not much else to say about it.

If you're interested in creatures, I might also encourage you to look into Vivien Reid and her flavor text.

She's a worlds-travelling mage that saved as much of her dying home world's creatures as spirits in her magical bow. They kinda shot down her entire character arc by defeating the guy who destroyed her world without her being involved, but she's appreciative of nature and creatures across worlds. Her flavor texts when she's around are typically observations on the beasts depicted, though sometimes a bit too one-liner or pithy for my taste.

Two other worlds jump to mind when it comes to dinosaurs or paleontological creatures. The first is Muraganda, though the amount of material for it is very low.

It's touted as a prehistoric world, and features both dinosaurs and dinosaur-people, as well as mobile Oozes, mammoths, sapient gorillas and more. Sadly, the recent visit for it was part of a car race set featuring two other worlds, so it didn't have that much room to be itself, most cards focusing on the race itself or the other two worlds. We did get a third of a worldbuilding article for it, though also focused on the race, and a Conan-the-barbarian-esque side story featuring people from the plane.

The second world is Ikoria. Now Ikoria's biologies are intentionally weird and wonky, the premise of that world is that it is full of monsters that magically mutate rapidly, as a result of a magical crystal network. There are five main types of such monsters, one centered in each color. Dinosaurs, of course, cats, elementals, nightmares, and more generic beasts.

WotC's inspiration for Ikoria was to mix together Kaiju movies, Monster Hunter and a dash of Pokémon to temper the mixture. I wouldn't say it's a perfect success, but it has its charms. It's a world where humans struggle to survive the natural world, where powerful creatures abound. Some hide, some fortify, some try to hunt the monsters, and some others magically bond with them.

Here is the worldbuilding article for Ikoria. Since Monsters are the star of the show, it does go a bit more into depth about the creatures of the world than most of these, though likely not as much as you'd like.

I think that's already plenty! Between your questions and these additions, this is becoming quite a long post. Oh, but if you like Cemetery Recruitment, I'll leave one last card for the road. They have fun with necromancy.

This is a post I'm interested to be seen by people who either do not play Magic: the Gathering or engage with it rather casually. If that's not you, feel free to reblog to reach a wider audience, but the exercise in here will not be as useful.

A few months back, the game released a new Base Set of cards called Foundations. It is meant to be a new batch of hundreds of cards that will always be available, that are simpler on average (though not necessarily less powerful) to be a point of entry for new players. Something else it does wonderfully is be a palette of the many worlds, aesthetics and vibes within the game. This is where you come in:

This is the important bit below

Take a look at the cards in the set! You don't even have to read them, there are many, many of them. If one of them or more catches your attention, reblog this post with an image of it, and if you want to learn anything more about it! Be it the world it depicts, its history within the game, or even the mechanics if they are what intrigues you.

This is the important bit above

Some of the cards are either generic or from worlds we haven't visited yet, but the vast majority fit within a larger whole, and there might be more like them to point at! I will try to elaborate on what you want to learn, and maybe even point you towards similar cards or entire card sets on the world or subject you took note of.

In case you're totally unfamiliar with the game, I'll put a short summary under the cut:

Magic: the Gathering is a fantasy trading card game that's over thirty years old. People are invited to create their own deck of cards out of a pool of nearly 30,000 different cards at this point. The gameplay has been summed up many times as being something that sits in between Chess and Poker as far as overall appeal, though the actual action-by-action game is unlike both of them. Just like with playing cards, though not as extreme, there are different ways to play with the cards too, varying which are legal, or the exact rules they're played under.

It is a deep game that can be enjoyed at many levels of engagement, and will take exactly as much time and money out of you as you're willing to give it. From $0 free to play gaming on arena or occasional board game night engagement, to spending hundreds regularly to keep up with a tournament metagame, to spending thousands if not tens of thousands on super rare collectible cards.

In the past few years, Magic has started collaborating with other franchises to make cards for their properties. Lord of the Rings, Fallout, Doctor Who, and plenty more, though it keeps making cards for its own worlds and lore.

That lore can be summed up as a magical multiverse full of very different worlds, each with their own aesthetics, magics, factions and struggles. They are interconnected by rare mages that are able to travel between them, and a major event recently started connecting them further, allowing the layperson to be able to travel between them using less practical ways to do so. Within those worlds, stories happen, sometimes through the cards themselves, sometimes through written fiction, be them novels, online stories or even comic books. Magic cards are divided into five different colors of magic, each with its own associated philosophy, elemental associations, mechanics, aesthetics. Those five colors can then combine and interact to form complex characters, factions, spells and more.

[supernovafics]

meeting steve at a bar

wc: 1k

a/n: here's something short because i can't seem to finish anything else lol

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you sat in the first open stool you saw, and the second the bartender walked over to you and asked what you wanted to drink, you laughed and smiled at him like you two were long-time friends.  

given the fact that you actually did not know this guy at all, his immediate confused look at your antics made complete sense.

“i know this will probably sound so weird, but can you pretend that we’re having the best conversation ever right now?” you asked him, the same forced smile on your lips. and when the look on his face only became even move confused, you continued. “the guy on the other end of the bar has been looking at me for the past few minutes and i really don’t want him to come up and try to talk to me.”

the bartender finally started going along with what you were doing, throwing on a smile equivalent to yours, but he still took a quick look in the direction of the random guy and then said, “i can say something to him if you want.”

“no, i don’t wanna make it a big deal,” you said and then considered your words. “but maybe me doing this right now is making it a big deal too. sorry.”

“no, it’s fine. we’re having the best conversation ever, remember?”

hearing him say those playful words made a real smile tug at your lips.

“oh, yeah, exactly,” you nodded, playing along. “we’re like old friends. first time catching up in years type of thing.”

he let out a laugh. “well, i’m a shitty old friend because i don’t remember your name.”

“and i don’t remember yours either, so i guess i’m a bad friend too,” you responded, enjoying the joking banter happening between you two right then; you liked how easy it felt. 

“steve,” he told you and you nodded and then responded with your name. “so, what do you want to drink?”

you shook your head. “i’m okay.”

steve’s head tilted a bit as he gave you an amused smile. “so you came to a bar to not drink?”

“i didn’t wanna spend my first friday night in this town alone in my apartment, so i thought i’d come here and try to make friends or something,” you said with a shrug. “which, i know probably sounds like a lie because i did just fully avoid having a conversation with that guy over there.”

“no, avoiding him makes sense. he has creepy eyes.”

“right?” you said, laughing a little. “thank you for also thinking that.”

he gave you a small smile that seemed as real as your own one felt, which was nice to see. “so, you just moved here?”

you nodded and gave him a brief “rundown” of your situation— where you moved from, why you moved to hawkins, etc. 

“is it the coffee shop on oak street?” steve asked. 

“yeah,” you answered with a quick nod. “my aunt’s had it for years and i always loved going there when i was younger and would visit town with my mom. it was kinda the only thing i liked doing here. so, my aunt also figured that i’d love to be the one to run it when she retires at the end of the year.”

“do you wanna do that?”

“i didn’t think i would, but i actually do,” you admitted. “and i wasn’t doing anything special in indianapolis anyway, so when she asked me to come here, the timing felt kinda perfect.”

you decided against going into how your first week in hawkins had sort of felt the opposite of perfect. working at maggie’s was great, but it felt like the only good thing about being here in this new town. and maybe you were getting too ahead of yourself because it had barely even been a full week, but you were already overthinking everything. 

instead of voicing any of that to this guy you barely knew, you said, “so, how long have you been bartending?” 

“oh, this is kind of a fluke,” steve answered. “i’m just helping a friend out tonight because someone called out last second.” 

he then pointed to a guy with long curly hair at the other end of the bar handing over a freshly made drink to a customer. “eddie.”

you gave steve an amused smile. “so, i guess it’s a good thing i didn’t ask for a super complicated fancy drink, then?”

“a really good thing. i barely know how to make a long island iced tea,” he told you. “most people here order the basic stuff; beer, rum and coke, just a shot. it’s that kind of town.”

“how long have you lived here?”

“my whole life.” 

“okay, so if you’ve been able to be here forever, then i’ll probably like it here too, right?” 

he was about to answer your question, but then he was getting called over by his curly haired friend. 

“sorry, i’ll be right back.”

you were about to tell him that there was no need for him to apologize because he was just doing his job, but he was gone before you could say anything. 

you watched him talk to his friend for a second and then proceed to help him make drinks for the few people that were waiting. the bar only got more crowded as time passed, which in turn made steve busier. you had enjoyed your conversation with him, as short and brief as it was, and you wondered what he was about to say to you before he got pulled away. but with how busy things were, you didn’t think you’d get that answer tonight.  

a part of you wanted to wait and find out, but after ten minutes of sitting alone— surrounded by happy groups of people who seemed so settled with one another that it felt like there was absolutely no way you could break into any conversation— it felt right to just call it a night and head home to your apartment.

before you headed out, though, you grabbed a pen that you noticed behind the counter and left your number on a napkin because you really wanted to have a friend in this new town. and maybe you were only kinda lying to yourself by inwardly saying that you simply just saw steve as a potential friend.

[bradleysass]

Value - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 686

“You do realize how valuable that vase was?” Evan hissed, holding onto the shattered remains of Barty’s crime like it could somehow restore his dignity.

Barty, ever the picture of nonchalance, twirled a jagged shard between his fingers. “Probably really expensive?”

Evan stared at him, dead-eyed. “Really expensive, Barty. Priceless. As in, this belonged to a dynasty. As in, you just committed a cultural hate crime.”

Barty winced. “Hate crime is a strong word—”

“Strongly accurate.”

Barty shrugged. “Listen, it was an accident.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Evan’s voice climbed an octave. “You reached out. You touched it. And then—oh, and then—you picked it up, waved it around like a lunatic, and dropped it!”

Barty had the audacity to pout. “It was slippery.”

“IT WASN’T MEANT TO BE TOUCHED.”

A throat cleared behind them. Evan turned his head, stomach plummeting. A museum guard, a broad man with a radio clipped to his vest, was standing a few feet away, arms crossed. He was staring at them like they were an exhibit labeled Idiot Criminals in Their Natural Habitat.

“Uh.” Barty blinked. “Hey.”

The guard took a slow step forward. “Step away from the vase.”

Evan, in a rare moment of telepathic understanding with his boyfriend, met Barty’s eyes.

Run?

Barty’s grin was blinding. Run.

Evan barely had time to curse before Barty grabbed his wrist and took off.

“HEY! STOP!” the guard bellowed, but they were already sprinting.

Barty, being the psychopath he was, immediately dove behind an exhibit, dragging Evan with him. “Shhh,” Barty whispered, like they weren’t still panting.

“Shhh? Shhh?” Evan whisper-yelled. “You just—Barty, I swear to God—”

Barty clamped a hand over Evan’s mouth, grinning. “Relax, love of my life. We just need an escape plan.”

“There is no escape plan!” Evan slapped Barty’s hand away. “They have cameras, guards, probably even snipers, because—oh, I don’t know—it’s a high-security museum?”

Barty peeked around the corner. “Well, if they had snipers, we’d already be dead, so I think we’re good.”

Evan let out a quiet scream. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I should.”

Barty grabbed his face, grinning. “You love me.”

Evan scowled. “Against my better judgment.”

They heard heavy footsteps. The guard was close.

Barty looked up, then at Evan, then up again.

Evan narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Barty pointed. “Vents.”

Evan followed his gaze. “No.”

“Yes.”

“That is not a viable option.”

“You’re thinking too inside the box, Evan.”

“The box is reality, Barty.”

Barty was already climbing onto a display case. “Come on, I’ll boost you up.”

Evan was going to die. Right here, in this museum. And it was going to be Barty’s fault.

“You are an actual menace,” Evan grumbled, but he grabbed Barty’s outstretched hand anyway.

The guard rounded the corner just as Evan hauled himself into the vent.

“HEY!”

Evan barely had time to pull Barty up before the guard lunged. They both scrambled forward, metal groaning under their weight.

“I hate you,” Evan muttered.

Barty, crawling ahead with an infuriating bounce in his step, flashed him a grin. “You say that now.”

The vent creaked ominously.

“Barty.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you check if the vents could support our weight?”

Silence. Then, “The what now?”

The vent collapsed.

They dropped straight into the museum gift shop.

Barty landed perfectly, crouched like a Mission Impossible agent. Evan landed in a display of overpriced postcards.

A cashier screamed.

A child pointed. “That was so cool!”

Evan groaned. “I’m actually going to murder you.”

“Maybe later, darling, we have to go.”

The guards were still chasing them. Barty grabbed a snow globe off a shelf and launched it at one of them before yanking Evan to his feet.

“Run!”

They bolted through the gift shop, past horrified tourists, and out the emergency exit, alarms blaring behind them.

Outside, panting and exhilarated, Barty beamed at Evan. “Well, that was fun.”

Evan took a long, slow breath. “I am never taking you to a museum again.”

Barty kissed his cheek. “No promises.”

Evan glared at him. Then sighed.

“Fine. But next time, we wear disguises.”

[foreignjaykay]

LOVE REVERBED - JJK [One Shot]

Love Reverbed

You weren't looking for love. Not anymore.

But between the neon lights of NYC Mix Fest, the hum of a city that never slows down, and the lingering echo of a fleeting airport encounter, something shifts. A familiar voice on stage. A glance that lasts too long. A feeling you thought you had outgrown.

Maybe love doesn’t disappear. Maybe it just reverbs—waiting for the right moment to be heard again.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

word count: 13.1K words (IJBOL WHAT? i have never written these many words all together im cryin)

one shot warnings/misc: event planner!oc, musician!jk, he is in a band but not famous, event planner! jimin, mentions of the the members - musician!tae, musician!namjoon (cameoj!!), musician!yoongi, musician!hobi (side note JAY HOPE HAS BEEN WILDIN' ON DA TOUR), investment banker! mingyu, HEARTBREAK, BETRAYAL, CHEATING (you will find out!), FLUFF, TENSION, ANGST, FLIRTING LOL, failed situationships/talking stages, some cliches, yeah thats it.

notes: hello everyone, sorry for the delay BUT SHE IS HERE!! i hope you guys love this one shot. this is a lengthy one for me haha. edit - this is more of oc's journey and currently jk is just a part of it. extras might come soon!

let me know your thoughts here <3

“Passport - check. Menus, coasters, floral vases - check, check” You saw all the collaterals around and once you spotted the vases in your luggage, smiled and said “Check!”

 “___ relax! You have everything you need to take there,” Your colleague, Jane, laughed and nudged your arm. “You’ve triple-checked everything, I swear. If the Don Julio bar isn’t perfect at the Mix Fest, it won’t be because of you.”

You sighed, the weight of the past weeks settling in your shoulders. “Just want it to go smoothly,” you muttered, zipping up your luggage - mentally checking everything the fourth time. “Especially after…” you trailed off, the unspoken words lingering in the air.

Jane’s expression softened. “He’s not worth another thought, you know that. Besides, New York! Girl, think of all the distractions.” She knew how badly you need that distraction.

You managed to give a weak smile. “Distractions are exactly what I need.”

It had been two weeks since your third situationship had ended. It wasn’t really even about the situationships anymore. They were just a way to, you know, distract yourself. Funny how you needed a distraction from the distraction. 

You shook your head, not wanting to think about these thoughts anymore. "Come on, we need to head to the airport," Jane called from the living room. While being your colleague, you were thankful Jane was also your roommate.

You always thought how were you doing life before you met her?

“Is Jimin meeting us directly at the airport?” You asked Jane as you put the luggage on the trolley, biting your lip, while Jane paid for the cab. 

God, you loved airports. The air in the terminal crackled with the static of announcements, a constant hum punctuated by the clatter of rolling suitcases. You took a deep breath of the recycled terminal air, and smiled. Everything about it just soaked you in. You didn't look at the airport as goodbye or whatever cliche thoughts people had or rather what movies made it sell. Airports always were a pit point of adventures. You loved the journey more than the destination.

 “Uh..” she trailed off, looking around. Then, when she finally spotted Jimin, she smiled, pointing towards a figure with blonde hair, waving enthusiastically. “There he is,” she said.

“Hello girls! Ready for the best weekend of your life or what?” Even at 7am Jimin was enthusiastic. A trait you and Jane seemed to lack.

 Noticing your and Jane’s expressions, he deflated slightly. “Oh come on. It’s New York.” He said, like that was supposed to solve everything.

You suppressed a small, tired smile. If you were truly honest, a flicker of excitement was there, buried beneath the exhaustion and the lingering weight of… well, everything.

Jimin, undeterred, threw an arm around your shoulder, a gesture that was more about his own excitement than any real comfort. “Imagine,” he said as his hands gestured wildly. “The guys! Oh, the guys! Picture this: chiseled jaws, smoldering eyes, every single one of them falling at our feet! Or, you know, the girls, if that's your thing. Glamorous, sophisticated, practically throwing themselves at us!”

You raised an eyebrow, a silent “really?”

Both him and Jane burst out laughing with Jimin giving your shoulder a quick, apologetic squeeze. “Okay, okay, I’m exaggerating a bit. But still! The energy, the food, the Mix Fest… it’s going to be amazing.” 

Mid conversation, you felt your phone vibrate but you ignored it.

Jane, already shifting her weight impatiently, cut in. “Let’s just get through security. My caffeine levels are dangerously low, and I’m starting to see things.”

Inside the terminal, the air was that familiar mix of recycled chill and faint jet fuel. You dragged your luggage to a trolley, the wheels rattling unevenly. The line for security was a slow-moving river of sleep-deprived faces and overstuffed backpacks.

The security process was the usual dance – laptop out, liquids in a bag, shoes off. You walked through the scanner, then beep a dull, familiar sound. On the other side, you fumbled with your shoes, the laces feeling stiff and unfamiliar. You watched Jane and Jimin, their banter a low hum in the background, a comforting, if slightly annoying, constant. You were ready for this weekend, even if you weren't fully aware of it yet.

The plane’s engines roared, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through your seat. You were thankful you luckily had no one sitting next to you in the middle seat.

 You pressed your forehead against the cool, slightly scratched window, with your neck pillow, watching as Seoul’s sprawling cityscape receded, transforming into a miniature tapestry of lights. Window seat, always, you thought, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your phone, its memory perpetually teetering on the brink of overload, was clutched in your hand, the camera app already open. Another travel video to add to the collection, you mused, knowing full well your storage was a lost cause. The click of the record button was automatic, a familiar ritual.

However after recording which looked like the 5th take, your hands instinctively went to the messages app and there it was. A text sitting from Mingyu.

A wave of something, a mix of anger and exhaustion, washed over you. Seriously? you thought, the word a silent, incredulous question. He’s really doing this.

"Sorry baby." The pet name, once a source of warmth, now felt like a cold, slimy thing. It was like he was trying to push a button, and he knew exactly which one to push. Seven months. Seven months since you'd found out about the beach trip, the "business meeting," the her. And now, this. At 7 a.m., no less. How did he even know you were traveling? It wasn't a coincidence. Mingyu wasn't a coincidence kind of guy. He was calculated, always had been. That was how he had been able to cheat. To plan it, to execute it, to lie. That was the real problem, it wasn't a mistake, it was a plan.

You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the reply button, then the delete button. You just stared. What could you even say? What was there left to say? 

No matter how many times you asked him to not text you, he still did at several intervals. You couldn’t block him. You had tried, really tried, but just couldn't do it. So you ignored him.

A sigh escaped your lips, a sound lost in the hum of the plane. You closed your eyes, the image of his face, his smile, the way he’d looked at her, flashing behind your eyelids. Your mind did take you to the past. The place you didn’t want to go and before you knew it, you were pulled into the memory.

"Babyyyy, let me help you pack,"  you murmured, a soft smile playing on your lips as he stirred in the warm tangle of sheets. Mingyu's head was nestled in the curve of your neck, his breath a gentle caress against your skin. A low, sleepy groan rumbled in his chest, a familiar sound that usually led to a lazy, affectionate morning.

He shifted, his lips brushing against your neck in a soft, lingering kiss. "Mmm, five more minutes," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his arms tightening around you.

You chuckled, gently stroking his hair. "Come on, sleepyhead. Your flight leaves in a few hours."

He reluctantly lifted his head, his eyes still half-closed, a soft, almost hazy look in them. "Fine, fine," he grumbled, but a playful smile tugged at his lips. "But only because I love you."

After the two of you had breakfast, you got up to help him pack.

He watched as you started pulling clothes from the closet, carefully folding them into his suitcase. "Let me help," you offered, reaching for a pile of his favorite shirts.

"No, it's okay," he said, a little too quickly, his hand moving to intercept yours. "I've got it." He placed the shirts back in the closet.

He moved to stand infront of the suitcase, blocking it from your view. "You know you have that blue shirt I like, packed right?" He asked, not moving.

A flicker of unease danced in your stomach. It wasn't like him to be so insistent. Usually, he'd be all over letting you help him, eager to make your life easier. "Are you sure? I don't mind," you said, your voice laced with a hint of confusion. Why was he being so weird about this?

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know I hate seeing you stressed before I travel. I've been working so hard lately. I need to focus on this trip."

He moved away from the suitcase, and sat on the edge of the bed. You shrugged it off. He was an investment banker, you reminded yourself, long hours and endless meetings were part of his job. He was probably just tired. But the tiny niggle of unease refused to fully leave you.

Two days later, you were on the phone with him, his voice sounding distant and strained. "Just a few more meetings," he'd said, "and I'll be back. I miss you."

“I miss you too. I love you.” You remember saying but you felt a pit in your stomach.

“Me too,” he said. It felt flat, like he didn’t mean it.

Once you hung up the call, that strange sense of unease settled in your stomach. It was a feeling you couldn't quite place, a knot of anxiety that tightened with each passing moment.

You opened Instagram, scrolling through stories to distract yourself. Changbin’s name flashed on the screen. Changbin. You'd never really liked him. There was something about his smug grin and his sharp, dismissive comments that always rubbed you the wrong way.

Your finger hovered over the screen, a moment of hesitation before you pressed play.

The story opened on a sun-drenched beach, the turquoise water sparkling in the sunlight. The sound of laughter, a clinking of glasses. Your breath hitched. Then, the camera panned, revealing a group of people lounging on beach chairs. Mingyu.

Your breath hitched. He was there, on a beach, not in a boardroom. And then you saw her. A girl with sun-kissed skin and a wide, beaming smile, sitting on Mingyu’s lap, her hand resting casually on his thigh. Another girl was sitting with Changbin. It looked like a couples trip.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The phone slipped from your numb fingers, clattering to the floor. The image of Mingyu and the girl, their laughter echoing in your ears, was a cruel, sharp blow. He lied, you thought, the word a hollow echo in your mind. He lied to me. The feeling of betrayal was so strong, it was almost physical.

You immediately opened your eyes, not wanting to think about it. When you touched your face, you felt the tears.

After the flight landed, the surge of passengers flooded the terminal and walked towards the baggage belt.

“I had the best sleep ever,” Jane mumbled as she adjusted her purse strap. You nodded your head and smiled.

“God I’m hungry. Before going to the venue, I am gonna have a nice shower and eat my heart out,” Jimin said while walking next to you.

You were eager to get your luggage and head to the hotel, the buzz of NYC already palpable. You navigated the crowd, trying to keep up with Jane and Jimin who were already in their own world, gossiping, when suddenly, you bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” you blurted out, instinctively stepping back.

Your eyes met his. Even with the black cap and mask obscuring part of his face, you could see the warmth in his eyes. He was wearing a checkered shirt, a pattern that seemed to suit him perfectly, a bit casual, a bit…rock and roll. He had a guitar case slung over his shoulder.

“No problem,” he said, his voice a low, melodic rumble. “My fault, really.”

For a moment, time seemed to slow. There was something familiar in his gaze, a spark of recognition that you couldn’t quite place. You noticed the way his eyes crinkled slightly, even with the mask.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the moment was over. He nodded, a slight tilt of his head, and continued walking.

You stood there, slightly dazed, watching him disappear into the crowd. A musician, definitely. The checkered shirt, the guitar case, it all fit. Your type, if you were still… you know. But you weren’t. Not anymore.

“Come on, ___,” Jane said, pulling you by the arm. “Luggage claim’s that way.”

As you walked, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, a subtle tremor in the air. You glanced back, but he was gone. Just another face in the sea of arriving passengers. Just another fleeting moment.

It's not always you see handsome strangers. You also loved the airport because imagine having that airport crush and bam you never see them again. This should be counted as that.

You pushed the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. New York. Don Julio setup. The Mix Fest. That was your reality now. No room for distractions. Especially not the kind that came with warm brown eyes, a checkered shirt, and a guitar case.

The taxi, a yellow blur against the twilight canvas of New York City, deposited you, Jane, and Jimin in front of The Ludlow. Stepping out, you stretched, a groan escaping your lips. "Man, that flight felt like it was never going to end," you muttered, pulling your carry-on from the trunk.

"Tell me about it," Jane agreed, rubbing her neck. "I swear, my neck pillow just made things worse."

You noticed Jimin was quiet which was very unlike him. “You okay?” Concern laced on your features as you took back the change from the taxi driver while mumbling a ‘thank you’.

“Yeah, yeah, I just need sleep. The guy next to me snored so loudly that I couldn’t sleep. At all,” He rolled his eyes and gave a tired smile.

As the three of you entered the hotel, the lobby of The Ludlow was a masterclass in curated cool, a symphony of exposed brick, plush velvet seating, and strategically placed lights casting a warm, inviting glow. 

The check-in process was quick and efficient. "Room 502 for you two, and 504 for you, Mr. Park," the receptionist said, handing over the keys.

While entering the elevator of the hotel, Jimin couldn’t help but say, ”This place is so cool," Jimin observed, his eyes wide. "Definitely an upgrade from our usual."

"Speak for yourself," Jane retorted, playfully shoving him. "I'm used to the finer things in life."

“The budget for this event is definitely high,” You laughed and tapped your key card and then pressed the floor no on the elevator.

Once the three of you exited the elevator and searched around for your rooms, "Alright, ladies," Jimin declared, grabbing his suitcase. "I'll see you at the venue. I need to unpack and… you know, groom."

"Groom?" Jane raised an eyebrow. "You mean check your hair for split ends?"

"Hey!" Jimin protested, feigning offense. "A man's gotta look his best!"

“Alright both of you,” you chuckled. “Jimin, we will see you in an hour?” He laughed and nodded.

You and Jane headed to your suite, a spacious room with a view that made you catch your breath. The two of you shared spacious suite, a minimalist haven of clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking panorama of the city skyline, a tapestry of twinkling lights against the inky blackness

 "Wow," you breathed, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. "This is incredible."

 "I could get used to this," Jane said, plopping down on one of the beds. "First order of business: shower. Second: nap. Third: find the mini-bar."

"Sounds like a plan," you agreed, grabbing your toiletry bag. "I'm going to jump in the shower first. You can raid the mini-bar while I'm in there."

As you entered the bathroom, the cool, smooth porcelain of the bathroom sink greeted your fingertips as you leaned against it, the mirror reflecting a weary version of yourself. The journey, the anticipation, the ever-present weight of Mingyu’s lingering texts – it had all coalesced into a knot of tension in your shoulders. You needed a moment, a physical and mental cleansing. "Shower first," you muttered to yourself, echoing Jane's earlier declaration.

The click of the shower knob was a small, decisive sound, a promise of release. As the water began to cascade, you adjusted the temperature, seeking that perfect hot water balance. The kind of temperature that is relaxing but also the temperature is very high. You stripped off your travel-worn clothes, the soft fabric falling to the cool tile floor, a tangible shedding of the day's layers.

Slowly the much needed warmth enveloped you, a comforting embrace that eased the tightness in your muscles. The sound of the water, a constant, rhythmic drumming against the tile, filled the small space, creating a private world within the bustling city.

As the water streamed down your face, you closed your eyes, letting the physical sensation wash over you. The scent of the hotel’s lemongrass-infused shampoo filled your nostrils, a clean, invigorating aroma that momentarily pushed aside the lingering mental clutter. You tilted your head back, letting the water trace paths down your skin, each droplet a tiny, fleeting caress.

But even here, in the supposed sanctuary of the shower, Mingyu’s presence lingered. His face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the soft timbre of his voice – these memories, once sources of comfort, now felt like shards of glass – sharp and painful. You remembered the way he used to pull you close, the feeling of his arms around you, a warmth that now seemed like a cruel illusion.

Why? The question echoed in your mind, a silent scream in the quiet space. Why did you do this? Why did you lie? Why did you break my trust? The questions swirled, unanswered, like the steam rising from the hot water.

You reached for the body wash, the fragrant gel a temporary balm for the emotional wounds. As you lathered your skin, your mind automatically focused on the physical sensations – the slickness of the gel, the warmth of the water, the gentle massage of your own hands. You tried to ground yourself in the present moment, to push away the intrusive thoughts, but they were relentless, like persistent whispers in the back of your mind.

You remembered the way he would hold your hand, the gentle squeeze that always made you feel safe and loved. Now, the memory felt tainted, a reminder of the trust that had been irrevocably shattered.

The sound of the water, once a soothing rhythm, now seemed to amplify the silence within your own thoughts. The absence of his voice, his touch, his presence, was a gaping void, a stark reminder of what you had lost.

You thought about the future, the road ahead. It stretched before you, uncertain and unknown. The thought of navigating this new chapter alone was daunting, but also strangely liberating. You were free, finally free from the weight of his lies, his manipulations, his betrayals.

You imagined a life without him, a life filled with new experiences, new connections, new possibilities. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. You were stepping into the unknown, leaving behind the familiar comfort of a relationship that had ultimately become a source of pain.

You rinsed the remaining soap from your skin, the water now a cool, refreshing stream. You stepped out of the shower, the cool air a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. You reached for a plush, white towel, wrapping it around your body, the soft fabric a comforting embrace.

As you dried your hair, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at you was slightly different, slightly stronger, slightly more resilient. 

What if I never move past this hurt? is the question that always haunted you. 

The pain was still there, etched in the lines around your eyes, but there was also a newfound sense of determination, a quiet strength that you hadn't seen before.

You were going to be okay. You were going to heal. You were going to move on from this hurt. And you were going to do it on your own terms. 

After a long, hot shower that felt like therapy, you changed into more comfortable clothes . The soft cotton felt good against your skin, a welcome contrast to the tense, coiled feeling you'd carried since the flight. You stared at your reflection, a flicker of something like resolve in your eyes. "Alright, venue time," you announced, emerging from the bathroom, the lingering scent of lemongrass trailing behind you. "Let's see what they've got going on."

"Finally," Jane groaned, stretching her arms above her head like a cat, her spine audibly cracking. "I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep in there.” She gave you a playful smirk. "Seriously, I was about to send in a search party."

You chuckled, a small, genuine sound. "Sorry, lost track of time. Needed a… reset. Besides the temperature is perfect, " 

“Also you might wanna check your phone,” Jane smirked and went inside the bathroom, leaving you confused. She couldn’t possibly know about Mingyu’s text. His contact was deep buried in your archives list.

You unlock your phone only to see a notification from Jay – the guy you went on two dates, 3 months after your breakup with Mingyu. You opened Jay’s text and you weren’t surprised to see what he had sent.

Yeah, no. 

Your first failed situationship or talking stage. Whatever it is called.

You immediately replied to him.

Yeah it was wild. Even for him.

On the first date itself you had understood, he was here for one thing. Not that you minded, but at that moment you weren’t ready for it. 

Even after ending that weird thing you had with him, he still behaved unhinged sometimes. Nothing you couldn't handle.

His selfie did get you out of your thoughts from Mingyu and onto some another thought – at the end of the day, you were an honest woman.

Once the three of you were ready, the taxi ride to the venue was a blur of New York sights and sounds. The city was a sensory overload, a vibrant tapestry of honking horns, chattering voices, and the tantalizing aroma of street food. "Whoa, this place is huge," Jane commented, her eyes wide as you stepped into the converted ground space. "They're really going all out."

The venue was indeed a whirlwind of activity. Stagehands were scrambling up scaffolding, adjusting lights that cast dramatic shadows across the space. Sound technicians were huddled over consoles, their brows furrowed in concentration. And a local band was running through a soundcheck, their music a mix of gritty rock and soulful blues, filling the stress filled space.

"They better be," you said, scanning the half-assembled bar, noting the unfinished details, the unpolished surfaces. "We've got a lot riding on this." The pressure was a familiar weight, but today, it felt heavier, amplified by the lingering anxiety.

"Relax, boss lady," Jimin said, appearing at your side, his usual cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to your focused intensity. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Just tell us what to do." He added and smiled.

You softened slightly, the tension in your shoulders easing a fraction. "Just… keep an eye on things," you said, gesturing towards the bar area. "Make sure they're following the layout, that the glassware is being handled carefully. And try not to break anything."

"Got it," Jimin grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Consider me your personal bar manager."

"Looks like they're making progress," you said, surveying the half-assembled bar, noting the placement of the back bar, the ice machines, and the overall flow of the space. "But we still have a lot to do. Tomorrow's 10 a.m. deadline is on our head, and the gates open at 12:30 p.m. No margin for error." 

You met with Dominic and Sarah, the customer marketing managers, both being the whirlwind of energy and efficiency. "Everything's on schedule," you assured them, your voice laced with a hint of controlled panic, their eyes darting between the various tasks being carried out around them. "But we're still waiting on the customised DJ glassware. Should be here by 8 a.m. tomorrow."

“___ we are not worried when you are on the project,” Dominic said while smiling. Thats on you bustling your ass and doing client servicing. You smiled.

You made mental notes, mentally ticking off items on your checklist. "We need to finalize the cocktail menu placement, ensure the ice machines are working, and double-check the placement of the floral arrangements," you said, your voice calm and authoritative, projecting an air of confidence you didn't entirely feel. You also checked the placement of the ice, the back bar, and the overall flow of the staff.  "The flow is very important,____. We cannot have a choke point at the bar. We need to keep things moving" Sarah explained, pointing to a potential bottleneck near the main entrance.

You nodded your head and already aligning your team for this hiccup to not take place.

Once Jimin had overlooked the production and Jane had instructed the bar team, the three of you left the venue.

"Dinner?" Jimin suggested, his stomach audibly rumbling, a low, guttural growl that echoed in the quiet street. "I'm starving and I will be back to check on the production,”

 "Dinner time," Jane declared, her stomach growling audibly. "I'm starving too. And I need a real drink, not just whatever's in that mini bar."

The Italian trattoria was warm and inviting, the air thick with the aroma of garlic, oregano, and simmering tomato sauce. "This place smells amazing," You said, inhaling deeply. "I'm going to order everything on the menu." 

The two of them laughed. At this point everyone in office knew your love for italian food. They thought you were joking. Oh.

The dinner was filled with laughter and stories, a welcome distraction from the day's pressures and travel. "Remember that time we went to that karaoke bar in Seoul?" Jimin asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And you tried to sing 'As Long As You Love Me' by Bieber?"

"Oh god, don't remind me," Jane groaned, burying her face in her hands. "That was a disaster. A beautiful, ear-splitting disaster."

"It was a masterpiece," Jimin insisted, laughing. "A glorious, beautiful disaster. The audience was mesmerized."

“Yeah I couldn’t hear that song normally for months. Still can’t,” You were laughing along with them, the sound genuine and light, when you noticed the man at the table next to you. He looked familiar, but you couldn't quite place him. "Who's that?" you asked, nudging Jane, your voice lowered.

"Who?" she asked, following your gaze. "Oh, him. I don't know. Just some guy. Why?"

"He looks familiar," you said, frowning, tilting your head slightly. "I feel like I've seen him somewhere before. But I can't quite remember where."

"Maybe you have," Jimin said, shrugging, taking a bite of his pasta. "New York's a small world. Or maybe you're just imagining it. You've been working too hard."

You shrugged, dismissing the thought. But the feeling of familiarity lingered, a small, persistent itch in the back of your mind.

As you excused yourself to use the restroom, you bumped into someone in the narrow hallway. "Oh, sorry!" you blurted out, instinctively stepping back, a flicker of surprise in your eyes.

Your eyes met his doe eyes. He was handsome, with a warm, inviting smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "No problem," he said, his voice a low rumble, a hint of amusement in his tone. "We keep meeting this way."

"Excuse me?" you asked, confused, your brow furrowed. We do? you thought. Where have I seen him?

He just smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if he knew something you didn't. "Never mind," he said, his voice laced with a gentle teasing. "Have a good night."

"You too," you said, watching him walk away, your mind buzzing with questions. Who is he? And why does he seem so familiar? you thought. "That was weird," you muttered under your breath, a sense of unease mixing with a strange curiosity.

Once you were back into your hotel room, it was already 12am. You immediately texted Jimin who after the dinner had gone back to the venue to check on the production. How was this man not tired?

You heard Jane laugh next to you on the texts the 3 of you had just exchanged.

“Alright, goodnight Jane-y. We have to reach the venue by 7AM so Jimin can come back and rest and come back once the fest starts,” You said as you set your alarm.

Jane, sleepy, nodded and mumbled “Good night love,” and immediately dozed off.

As much as you tried to sleep, you really couldn’t. You checked the time, and it was 1AM. You took your phone from the night stand and unlocked your phone. Maybe TikTok or Instagram reels might help.

Brainrot content – that's all you saw.

Mid laughing at a reel, your phone rang, the shrill tone cutting through the silence. Mingyu's name flashed across the screen, a stark reminder of the past that had been haunting your every step. You hesitated, your finger hovering over the answer button, a battle raging within you. Ignore it. Let it go. 

And so you didn’t pick up.

The phone rang again.

This time the need for closure, the need to finally confront the lingering pain, won out. You pressed the button, the sound of the connection a sharp, decisive click.

"Mingyu," you said, your voice trembling slightly, betraying the carefully constructed facade of composure. “I asked you not to-,”

You were cut off. "___," he began, his voice a low, urgent murmur, laced with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. "Please, just… please, listen to me. I need you to hear me out before you hang up."

You carefully removed the duvet and went inside the balcony, trying not to wake up Jane who was in a deep slumber.

"Hear you out?" you scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you closed the balcony door behind you. "After everything? After you tore my world apart? You are funny, I’ll give you that,”

You heard him sigh on the other end.

"I know I hurt you, baby. I know I messed up. But… but I need you to understand. It wasn't just about… about the physical thing. It was about… feeling lost. Feeling like I wasn't enough." His voice cracked, and you could hear the raw emotion beneath the words.

"Don’t call me that,” You said. How could he? 

 “You lost that right the day you decided to cheat and not enough?" you repeated, incredulous. "I loved you, Mingyu. I supported you. I believed in you. And you tell me I wasn’t enough? Wow."

"It wasn't about you, ___. It was about me. My insecurities, my fears. I was trying to run away from myself, and I dragged you into it. I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with emotion, and for a moment, you almost believed him.

"So, you ran to her," you said, your voice laced with a mixture of anger and pain. "Someone who made you feel better about yourself. Someone who gave you the validation you thought I wasn't giving you."

"It wasn't like that," he insisted, his voice strained, pleading. "It was more… complicated. She… she understood a part of me that I felt like I couldn't share with anyone else."

"A part of you that you couldn't share with me?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, the pain cutting through you like a knife. "The person who loved you unconditionally? The person who gave you her heart?"

"I know," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I know I messed up. I messed up big time. And I don't expect you to forgive me. But I need you to know… I never stopped loving you, ___. Even when I was with her, it was you I thought about. You're the one I want."

"You have some nerve," you managed to say and a bitter laugh escaped your lips. "You want me now? After you've had your little… adventure? After you've broken my trust beyond repair?"

"I know I don't deserve it," he said, his voice cracking, the desperation evident. "But I'm begging you. Please, give me another chance. I'll do anything. I'll change. I'll be the man you deserve. I'll be better."

"You can't change who you are, Mingyu," you said, your voice trembling, tears welling up in your eyes. "And I can't go back to who I was. I can't go back to being someone who's constantly waiting for you to break my heart again. I can't live with that fear anymore."

Little did you know, Jane woke up. She watched you talk to Mingyu, proud of you finally letting it out. Finally standing up for yourself and letting out all your bottled up emotions.

"Please, ___, don't do this," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you. I love you. Please."

"No, Mingyu," you said, your voice firm, a newfound sense of strength resonating within you. "I need to let you go. I need to let myself go. I need to be free. I am finally free. You changed me. And I thank you for that."

"What?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion, a hint of panic creeping in.

"I am finally myself," you said, your voice clear, strong, a wave of liberation washing over you. "And I can't be myself with you. I can't be the person I am meant to be if I'm still clinging to the past."

"No, ___, don't," he pleaded, his voice desperate, a raw vulnerability exposed. "Please, don't say that. Don't do this to us. To me."

"Goodbye, Mingyu," you said, your voice steady, a sense of closure settling within you.

“Baby please," his voice breaking.

“Mingyu don't,” You said wiping your tears.

“Just don’t call or text me. Please,” 

He took several moments before he managed to mumble an ‘okay’

“Goodbye Mingyu,” You finally managed to say. 

“Goodbye ____. I’ll always love you,” He said that with what seemed like a genuine tone and with that you pressed the end call button, the click a sharp, final sound. You stared at your phone, the screen reflecting your tear-streaked face. You felt lighter, freer than you had in months. The shackles were gone, the weight lifted. You were finally, truly, free.

Tears streamed down your face, but they weren't tears of pain or anger. They were tears of release, of finally freeing yourself from the shackles of the past. You let yourself cry, the sobs wracking your body, each one a step further away from the pain.

As the tears subsided, you felt a gentle warmth envelop you. Jane was standing beside your bed, her eyes filled with concern and understanding. She didn't say a word, didn't ask any questions. She simply wrapped her arms around you, holding you close, offering silent comfort and unwavering support. You clung to her, the tears flowing freely, not from sadness, but from a profound sense of relief and liberation. You had finally broken free, and Jane was there to help you celebrate that newfound freedom.

DAY 1 - NYC MIX FEST

The venue pulsed with a palpable energy, a stark contrast to the quiet, almost solemn, introspection of the previous night. By 12 PM, the Don Julio bar was a gleaming masterpiece of polished wood, shimmering glassware, and precisely arranged bottles of their stunning portfolio. The customized Mexican DJ-inspired, skull glassware, thankfully delivered right on schedule, caught the light, casting a dazzling array of reflections. You, Jane, and Jimin moved with practiced ease, fine-tuning the last details, ensuring every element was flawless. The air crackled with the sound of music, the clinking of glasses, and the excited murmur of early attendees.

"Looks like we actually pulled it off, huh?" Jane said, a sigh of genuine relief escaping her lips as she meticulously adjusted a row of cocktail garnishes. "I was starting to think those glasses were cursed."

"Don't even say that," Jimin retorted, his brow furrowed as he adjusted a floral arrangement with the precision of a surgeon. "We're not out of the woods yet. We still have the main rush to contend with." He paused, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "But yeah, it looks good. Real good."

You took a deep breath, the crisp scent of fresh lime and premium tequila filling your senses. This is it, you thought, a quiet sense of triumph washing over you. A new day, a new beginning. The lingering weight of Mingyu's call had completely dissipated, replaced by a feeling of lightness, a newfound sense of quiet confidence. "Let's take a quick walk around," you suggested, gesturing towards the bustling crowd. "See what the other brands are doing. Get a feel for the atmosphere."

The venue was a sprawling showcase of branded experiences, each competing for attention. Tanqueray's gin garden was a verdant oasis, complete with live botanical displays and bartenders crafting bespoke cocktails with fresh herbs. Johnnie Walker's whisky lounge exuded an air of sophisticated elegance, with plush leather seating, dim lighting, and a curated selection of rare blends. Toki's highball station was a minimalist masterpiece, showcasing the clean, crisp flavors of Japanese whisky with sleek, modern design and their concept Toki-o nights which was heavily inspired by music. And Glenmorangie’s setup was a vibrant, beach-themed extravaganza, with bright colors, tropical decorations, and a lively, party atmosphere.

"Wow, they've really gone all out," Jane commented, her eyes scanning the crowd with a mixture of admiration and professional curiosity. "The competition is fierce."

"Tell me about it," you agreed, noting the intricate details of each brand's activation. "But I think we've got the edge. Our bar is both stylish and functional. A perfect balance of aesthetic and practicality."

Jimin nodded enthusiastically. "And the cocktails are killer," he added, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I may have sampled a few myself, just to ensure quality control, of course."

“No wonder the bar team was giving me knowing looks,” You rolled your eyes playfully. "Of course," you said, chuckling. "Just don't get too carried away."

"Never," Jimin said, feigning innocence.

You all moved towards a photo booth where a long queue was forming, attendees eager to capture the moment. "Look at the line," you said, impressed. "That's a great sign. We’ll definitely come back later when it's less crowded. Perfect for some social media content."

Returning to the Don Julio bar, the music grew louder, more insistent. The band from the previous night was performing again, their sound filling the space with a raw, soulful energy. The stage was conveniently located right next to the Don Julio bar. Your eyes were drawn to the lead singer - it was the same dude from the Italian restaurant. He was completely immersed in the music, his voice a powerful, melodic rumble that resonated through the venue.

Musicians have always been your weakness.

He really is talented, you thought, watching him move across the stage with an effortless grace. And incredibly handsome. You couldn't help but notice the way his checkered shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, and the way his doe eyes, even from a distance, seemed to hold a spark of something intense.

He didn't seem to notice you, thankfully, his focus entirely on the performance. You quickly turned your attention back to the bar, trying to shake off the unexpected flutter in your chest. Focus, ___. you told yourself, mentally running through the checklist of tasks. You have a job to do.

But even as you worked, adjusting bottles, straightening napkins, your eyes kept drifting back to the stage. There was something about him, something familiar and intriguing, that you couldn't quite ignore. The feeling was a gentle hum beneath the surface of your thoughts, a quiet reminder of the unexpected encounters that had marked the beginning of your New York adventure.

Jane, noticing your gaze, exchanged a knowing look with Jimin. They both smirked, but thankfully, refrained from any overt teasing. They knew you were still processing a lot, and a playful jab might not be well-received. Instead, Jane subtly nudged you with her elbow, a silent acknowledgment of your obvious unspoken attraction.

"Everything alright, boss lady?" Jimin asked, his voice laced with a playful undertone, trying hard to keep his gaze fixed on the bar.

"Fine," you said, a little too quickly. "Just… admiring the music. I’m all about the music you know that,"

"Sure you are," Jane mumbled under her breath, a playful glint in her eyes to which Jimin couldn’t help but chuckle.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a small smile. Maybe a little distraction wouldn't hurt, you thought, a flicker of something like excitement igniting within you. But first, work.

By 4 PM, the venue had transformed into a pulsating hub of activity, a kaleidoscope of branded experiences and eager attendees. The clients, Dominic and Sarah, arrived, their eyes alight with a blend of professional scrutiny and genuine excitement. They'd been privy to the meticulously curated visuals you'd sent, but witnessing the Don Julio bar in its full glory was an entirely different experience.

"___, this is… exceptional," Dominic declared, his voice booming across the space, cutting through the ambient noise like a well-tuned bassline. "You've truly captured the essence of the brand."

"The lighting, the glassware, the sheer artistry of the cocktails," Sarah added, her eyes tracing the intricate details of the bar's design. "It's a masterpiece. You guys have outdone yourselves,"

You managed a smile, a mixture of relief and pride washing over you. "Thank you," you said, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Jimin, Jane and I wanted to create an immersive experience, something that resonated with the spirit of Don Julio and what better than personalised Don Julio skull mugs,"

The next few hours were a blur of client interactions, strategic small talk, and the relentless monitoring of the bar's operation. You, despite your innate aversion to superficial conversations, navigated the social labyrinth with practiced ease. It was a necessary evil, a performance required for the success of the event.

"So, Sarah," you began, steering the conversation towards the broader festival experience, "what are your impressions of the other brand activations?"

"They're all… interesting," she replied, her tone carefully neutral. "But I am also a little biased,” You chuckled. “Don Julio has a certain… sophistication. It's not just about the spectacle; it's about the experience."

"Precisely," you said, nodding in agreement. "We wanted to create a space where attendees could truly appreciate the craftsmanship and heritage of the brand."

As the evening wore on, a subtle sense of disappointment began to creep in. Your eyes, despite your best efforts, kept drifting towards the stage, searching for a familiar figure. The musician, with his soulful voice and captivating presence, was conspicuously absent. Maybe he's performing with his band tomorrow, you thought, trying to quell the rising tide of disappointment. It's a two-day festival, after all.

By 7 PM, the disappointment had solidified into a quiet ache, a subtle undercurrent beneath the surface of your professional composure. You continued to circulate, engaging with clients, ensuring their glasses were filled and their questions answered, but the absence of the musician cast a shadow over the evening.

The first day of the Mix Fest drew to a close at 10 PM, the venue slowly emptying as attendees filtered out, their voices echoing through the cavernous space. Exhausted but undeniably satisfied, you, Jane, and Jimin made your way back to The Ludlow.

"I'm going to hit the spa," you announced, a wave of weariness washing over you. "Anyone care to join me?"

"I'm beat brother," Jane said, stretching her arms above her head, her spine cracking audibly. "I'm going straight to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Same here," Jimin agreed, stifling a yawn. "But have a good one!"

The spa was a sanctuary of tranquility, a haven of warmth and soothing aromas. The humid air enveloped you like a comforting embrace, easing the tension in your muscles. You closed your eyes, letting the gentle heat work its magic, the day's stresses melting away.

After a long session in the steam room, you emerged, your skin glowing, your mind clear. You wandered towards the relaxation area, a dimly lit space with plush loungers and soft, ambient music. And that's when you saw him. Soobin.

He was sprawled across one of the loungers, his eyes closed, his face relaxed. He looked good, you had to admit, the dim light casting his features in a flattering glow.

"Soobin?" you said, your voice a soft whisper, a mix of surprise and mild amusement.

His eyes fluttered open, a slow, slightly disoriented smile spreading across his face. "___? What a… surprise."

"Surprise?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow, a hint of playful skepticism in your voice. "You're here for the festival?"

"Yeah," he said, sitting up, his movements a little stiff. " I am visiting few friends here so we decided to check the fest. I'm a big fan of the… music scene here. And the… atmosphere." He said the last word with a strange emphasis.

You chuckled, a dry, almost cynical sound. "Of course," you said, your eyes narrowing slightly.

Soobin was your second "situationship," or a failed talking stage if you wanted to call it that. A brief but intense connection that had almost blossomed into something more. You'd been genuinely drawn to him, intrigued by his quiet intensity and his thoughtful demeanor. But he was always a little… hesitant, a little unsure. And you, still reeling from the aftermath of your relationship with Mingyu, were equally reluctant to fully commit.

An awkward silence descended, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the soft murmur of the spa's ambient music. Soobin shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding your eyes.

"So," he began, his voice strained, "how have you been?"

"Good," you replied, keeping your tone casual, your expression carefully neutral. "Busy with work, as always."

"Right. ___ the boss lady" he said, nodding slowly, his eyes still avoiding yours. "The festival… it's quite something, isn't it?"

"It is," you agreed, your voice flat.

Another awkward silence stretched between you, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, a mixture of curiosity and something else, something you couldn't quite decipher.

"You look… good," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze finally meeting yours.

"Thanks," you said, a flicker of something like irritation flashing through you. "You too."

He was still attractive, you had to admit, but the spark that had once flickered between you had dimmed, replaced by a sense of awkwardness and unspoken regrets.

"It's been a while," he said, his voice laced with a hint of nostalgia.

"It has," you agreed, your voice cool.

God this was painfully awkward. If only Jane and Jimin were here with you now. They would have saved you from whatever this was but also would have a blast making fun of this situation.

"We should… catch up sometime," he suggested, his voice hesitant, his eyes searching for your agreement.

"Maybe," you said, noncommittally, your gaze drifting towards the exit.

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words, a lingering sense of what could have been. You felt a wave of weariness wash over you, the day's events finally catching up. You wanted to escape, to retreat to the solitude of your room, to process the unexpected encounter.

"Well," you said, rising to your feet, "I should probably get going. It's been a long day."

"Right," he said, nodding slowly, his expression a mixture of disappointment and resignation. "Yeah, of course."

You turned to leave, a sense of relief washing over you. The encounter had been awkward, uncomfortable, a reminder of a chapter you'd thought you'd closed. As you walked away, you couldn't help but wonder if this was a sign, a second chance. Or just another unexpected, slightly uncomfortable, encounter in the whirlwind of your New York adventure. You decided, at that moment, that you were going to go to sleep and not think about it any more.

Life has genuinely been weird since last two days.

DAY 2 - NYC MIX FEST

The aftershocks of the past two days lingered, a subtle tremor in the usually steady rhythm of your life. Sleep, a fickle companion, had been a patchwork of disjointed dreams and the persistent echo of Mingyu's voice. Then the encounter with Soobin in the spa, though brief, had left a faint, unpleasant aftertaste, a reminder of unfinished chapters.

Waking up late, you felt a strange sense of detachment, a subtle disconnect from the day's impending chaos. A glance at your phone revealed the time – 12:00 PM. Damn, you thought, a wave of mild panic washing over you. You were never late. You were always meticulously punctual. 

New York definitely has had its effect on you.

Rushing through your morning routine, you arrived at the venue at 12:45 PM, a minute that felt like an eternity. Jane and Jimin were already deep in conversation near the Don Julio bar, their laughter echoing through the near-empty space.

“Jane! You didn’t wake me up,” You said in anger, although it wasn’t serious. Day 2 of the fest was supposed to be chill so you weren’t that worried.

It’s just bad habits that die hard.

“Hey!!” Jane exclaimed. “I was letting you rest, knowing you work like a machine,” She said feigning innocence. Now who could say no to that face?

You just playfully rolled your eyes at her and she chuckled.

"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with their presence," Jimin teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "Did you finally decide to sleep in?"

"Sorry," you mumbled, a blush creeping up your neck. "I overslept. I had a rough night."

"It's fine," Jane said, waving a dismissive hand. "We were just about to grab some lunch. Come on, you can catch up on the gossip."

Over a quick lunch of festival fare, the three of you discussed the previous day's events, the client feedback, and the general buzz of the festival. You kept your encounter with Soobin to yourself, not wanting to rehash the awkwardness but knowing sooner or later, you were gonna spill it for them. You just had to make sure that you would be staying away from the hotel spa.

"So," Jane said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "did you manage to spot your mystery musician?"

You shook your head, a flicker of disappointment crossing your face. "No, not yet. I'm starting to think he's a figment of my imagination."

"Maybe he's saving his grand entrance for today," Jimin suggested, winking. "You know, building suspense."

After lunch, you decided to take a walk around the venue, hoping to clear your head and shake off the lingering sense of unease. You were still feeling slightly off-kilter, a little out of sync with your usual self. 

Just thinking about the last two days. They had been wild and went so fast. You had finally broken away from the shackles of your relationship with Mingyu, felt yourself returning, the Jay and Soobin interaction. So much had happened.

You still felt alone. 

Looking around the fest, you saw couples around you mingling with each other and just having fun and living life and you felt a bittersweet feeling. When was it gonna be my turn? is the only thought that crossed your mind.

You were successful in your career, decent looking yet love was the only part of your life that wasn’t figured out. Actually you had it figured out for a long time when you were Mingyu, almost even thought you would marry him – Yeah no, not that thought.

As you rounded a corner near the main stage, you bumped into someone, sending a set of drumsticks clattering to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" you blurted out, instinctively bending down to help pick them up.

Was it the musician?

Looking up, you realized it wasn't the musician, but another member of his band. He was tall, with a warm, friendly smile and a pair of intelligent eyes. You felt a wave of disappointment, quickly suppressed.

"No, it's okay," he said, his voice deep and melodic. "Don't worry about it. It was my fault."

"I seem to be bumping into everyone lately," you said, a wry smile playing on your lips. "It's becoming a bit of a theme."

He chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "It's a busy place. Easy to get turned around."

You noticed the drumsticks in his hand. "Are you performing here?" you asked, gesturing towards the main stage.

"Yeah," he replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. "We're called Sunrise Boulevard."

"Oh, cool," you said, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I'll have to check you out. What time is your set?"

"Please do," he said, handing you the drumsticks. "Let me know what you think. We play at 7PM! This is our first big gig,” He said with excitement. It was infectious.

"I will," you promised.

"I'm Namjoon," he said, extending his hand.

"___," you replied, shaking his hand.

You introduced yourself, and he told you a little about the band, their music, and their journey. You explained your role in the Don Julio activation. You found yourself enjoying the conversation, his easygoing charm a welcome distraction from your earlier anxieties.

“Drinks on me, okay,” You laughed and told me.

“I’ll hold you to that,” He smirked.

Jane, who had been watching from a distance, approached, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Who's this?" she asked, her voice laced with playful curiosity.

"This is Namjoon," you said, introducing them. "He's the drummer for Sunrise Boulevard."

"Nice to meet you," Jane said, extending her hand, her smile widening.

"You too," Namjoon replied, his smile equally bright.

Jane seemed particularly interested in Namjoon, her questions flowing easily, her laughter light and genuine. You watched them interact, a sense of amusement mixing with a quiet sense of relief. 

Both Jimin and you saw her tuck her hair while talking to him and smirked. Classic tell-a-tale sign when Jane is interested in someone.

At least someone was having a good time.

After a few minutes, Jane and Namjoon exchanged numbers, and he headed towards the stage for soundcheck. Jane returned to the Don Julio bar, a satisfied grin on her face.

"So," Jimin said, raising an eyebrow, "who was that?"

"That was Namjoon," Jane replied, her cheeks flushed. "He's the drummer for Sunrise Boulevard. They're playing today."

"And?" you asked, a playful smirk on your face.

"And," Jane said, rolling her eyes, "they're a rookie band. This is their first big festival. They're really good, though. You should check them out."

"A rookie band, huh?" Jimin said, his eyes twinkling. "Sounds interesting."

"They are," Jane insisted. "And he's really nice."

"Someone's got a crush," you teased, nudging Jane's arm.

"Shut up," she said, blushing. "I just think they deserve some support."

"Of course you do," Jimin said, chuckling. "We'll definitely check them out."

You made sure to stay away from the hotel spa and any areas where you might run into Soobin. You had no desire to relive that awkward encounter. You were here to work, to enjoy the festival, and to finally see Sunrise Boulevard perform. You decided to make sure to keep an eye out for Namjoon and his band’s set.

With the overwhelming amount of crowd at the Don Julio bar, you didn’t even realise that it was almost 7PM. 

Once the clock struck 7PM, you could see the majority of the crowd gathering near the stage. And they thought they were rookie. You helped the bartending team while bringing in some ingredients for the cocktails when you heard the most angelic possible voice.

“Oh my god, the lead singer is so handsome,” You heard a few girls fangirl (?) and you glanced towards the stage, curious to see what all the fuss was about, and to see if the band was really as good as Jane had said.

The stage lights dimmed, casting long, dramatic shadows across the eager crowd. A hush fell over the venue as the band members took their positions. Then, a voice, smooth and confident, cut through the silence.

"Hey everyone, I'm JK, lead singer of Sunrise Boulevard, and this is our band!" He gestured towards his bandmates. "On guitar, Taehyung! On drums, Namjoon! On bass, Hoseok! And on keyboard, Yoongi!" The rest of them waved towards the crowd which got them screaming.

The crowd erupted in applause as they launched into their first song, a sultry, rock-infused rendition of Chase Atlantic's "Swim." JK’s voice, laced with a hint of smoky allure, filled the space, captivating the audience. The band's energy was palpable, their performance a blend of raw intensity and polished precision.

After the Chase Atlantic cover, they transitioned into their original songs. The first, "City Lights," was a driving pop-rock anthem with a catchy chorus, reminiscent of early 2000s alternative rock. The second, "Lost in the Echoes," had a more introspective feel, with JK’s vocals soaring over a melancholic melody, showcasing his impressive range. For a third song, they played "Crimson Sky," a high-energy rock song with a powerful guitar riff, getting the crowd to jump and sing along.

As the set progressed, you found yourself drawn into their performance, despite your professional focus. JK’s stage presence was undeniable, his charisma radiating from the stage. The kind of presence that demanded attention. You noticed his eyes scanning the crowd, and for a fleeting moment, you thought they lingered on you. You quickly looked away, a blush creeping up your neck, trying to focus on the busy bar.

Yeah no, not the time to be delusional.

As the band finished their third song, JK stepped forward, a slight smile playing on his lips. "We have one more song for you tonight," he announced, his voice soft, yet carrying through the venue. "It's a little different from our usual style. I wrote it recently, and it's called 'Still With You.'"

The crowd cheered as the band launched into the song. It was a slower, more soulful ballad, JK’s voice filled with raw emotion. The song's lyrics, a heartfelt expression of longing and vulnerability, resonated with the audience, creating a quiet, intimate atmosphere. You found yourself captivated by his performance, his voice weaving a spell around you, cutting through the noise of the festival.

As the set ended, JK's eyes swept across the crowd once more. This time, you were sure they lingered on you. He held your gaze for a moment, a subtle intensity in his eyes, then looked away, a slight smile playing on his lips. You tried to dismiss it as a coincidence, but a flutter of excitement stirred within you.

Lord, New York was something else.

The band exited the stage, and you returned to the Don Julio bar, helping the team with the rush of customers. A few minutes later, Namjoon approached, JK trailing slightly behind him, hands in his pockets.

Namjoon hopped onto an empty stool, a slightly sheepish grin on his face. "Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair. "So, uh, how'd we do?"

You chuckled, wiping down the counter. "You guys were great. Seriously. The crowd loved you."

"Yeah?" Namjoon asked, a hint of relief in his voice. "We were kinda nervous. First big festival and all."

"You wouldn't have known it," you assured him. "You guys looked completely at home up there."

"That's good to hear," he said, nodding. "We put a lot of work into this set. Especially JK, he was stressing about the Chase Atlantic cover."

"It was a bold choice," you said, glancing at JK, who was leaning against the bar, observing the crowd. "But it worked. It really set the tone."

"He's always pushing  to try new things," Namjoon said, rolling his eyes playfully. "Sometimes it drives us crazy, but I guess it pays off."

"It definitely did tonight," you said, smiling. "Especially that last song, 'Still With You'. It was beautiful."

JK finally spoke, his voice low and smooth. "Thank you," he said, meeting your gaze. "It means a lot."

"No, really," you said, turning back to Namjoon. "You guys have a really unique sound. It's not just another pop-rock band."

"That's what we're going for," Namjoon said, nodding. "We want to stand out."

"You definitely do," you said, grabbing a bottle of tequila. "So, what can I get you guys? Drinks are on me, remember?" 

"Oh, right!" Namjoon said, snapping his fingers. "I almost forgot. I'll take a... what are you having?"

“Oh,” You chuckled. “I don’t drink and besides I’m at work so,” You managed to say which earned you a look from JK.

“So what will you guys have? Want me to suggest?” You diverted the topic.

“Yes please,” Namjoon smiled. You looked over the menu and suggested ‘Don Paloma’ and ‘Don Picante’ to the two of them. 

“Wow you know your cocktails,” JK said while having that look. The look that made you nervous.

“I wouldn’t be doing a good job at work if I didn’t,” You chuckled.

As you placed the order to the bar team, you noticed Jane and Jimin coming your way. You immediately saw Namjoon smile at that.

Yeah you and Jimin have to clock that.

The conversation then continued to flow easily, but you couldn't shake the feeling that JK was watching you, his gaze lingering, but in a way that felt more curious than intrusive. You felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness, unsure of what to make of his attention, but the conversation with the rest of them felt like a welcome buffer.

Namjoon grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know what? We're running low on drinks for the band. Let's grab another round."

"Good idea," Jane chimed in, nodding towards the bar. "We wouldn't want anyone getting thirsty."

You watched them go, a knowing smile playing on your lips. Smooth. But hey, who were you to judge?

Jimin, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly stood. "Uh, I need to… check on some, uh, thing," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. "See you guys later."

Yeah you were cursing him in your mind.

He practically bolted, leaving you and JK alone. "Well," you said, turning to JK, "that was… awkward.”

He chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "He's probably checking on the drinks too, you know, to make sure they're… properly distributed,”

He paused, then gestured towards the festival grounds. "Want to go for a walk? Check out the place? See if we can find anything?” 

“You sure? Aren’t you tired?” You asked him genuinely. After that performance anyone would be tired.

"Yes I’m sure,"  he smiled.

As you walked, JK pointed towards the brightly lit Ferris wheel. "Ferris wheel," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "A classic." 

"Isn't that a little… cliché?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like, straight out of a rom-com?"

"Sometimes cliché is good," he replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Besides, it's a great view. And who knows, maybe we’ll have a rom-com moment of our own."

You raised your eyebrow and chuckled.

“Yeah sorry that was bad,” He shook his head and laughed.

“Oh wait, I didn't introduce myself. I’m Jungkook,” He put his hand forward for a handshake. “And I’m ___”, You smiled as you shook hands with him.

As you walked ahead, Jungkook's eyes widened. "Wait a minute," he said, snapping his fingers. "You're the girl from the airport!"

"What? What airport?" you asked, feigning confusion, though a flicker of recognition sparked in your mind.

"Yeah, you were… a bit overwhelmed," he said, his eyes twinkling. "And you're also the girl from the Italian place."

"Yeah, that I am," you replied, a smile spreading across your face. "Small world, huh?" He remembers. And he remembers the details. That’s… unexpected.

Yeah no, you weren’t going to delude yourself.

As you rode the Ferris wheel, the city lights spread out below you, a dazzling panorama. "It's beautiful," you murmured, gazing at the view. "I've never been to New York before."

"Really?" Jungkook asked, his eyes widening slightly. "First time?"

"Yeah," you said, a hint of wonder in your voice. "It's… overwhelming, in a good way."

He nodded.

You talked about your dreams, your work, your passions. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s a good listener. Not something you find every day. Or ever.

“So where have you been till now?” He asked as the two of you exited the ferris wheel. “Uh, honestly? Nowhere,” You shrugged. “We came on Friday and have been working since then. We still have tomorrow to explore,” You smiled and told him.

“Any places you could suggest though?” You asked as you thanked the person managing the ferris wheel not noticing the smug grin on Jungkook’s face for what he was about to say next.

"Well," he said, his voice a low murmur, "I can show you around. Show you the real New York. The places the tourists don't know about."

He’s smooth. You will have to give him that.

“You can?” You raised your eyebrows to which he nodded.

He’s definitely flirting. And you are definitely not complaining.

Since the ferris wheel ride ended, and you stepped back onto solid ground, the city lights beginning to fade into the background as you re-entered the heart of the festival. That was… nice, you thought, a small smile playing on your lips. As you continued your walk, the conversation flowed easily, naturally transitioning to the various brand activations scattered throughout the grounds. You pointed out a particularly eye-catching display, discussing its marketing strategies and potential impact. 

"Wow," Jungkook said, genuinely impressed. "How do you know so much?"

"It'd be funny if I didn't," you replied, a wry smile playing on your lips. "These are my clients. And potential clients. It's kind of my job to know."

He seems to be impressed.

As you walked, you began to get to know each other. "So, you're from Seoul, right?" Jungkook asked, his eyes curious.

"Yeah, born and raised," you replied, a hint of nostalgia in your voice. "Been working with Black Media Marketing for two years now. We handle a lot of brand activations, events, that kind of thing."

"That's impressive," Jungkook said, nodding. "It must be exciting working with so many different brands."

"It is," you agreed, a smile playing on your lips. "It's always something new."

"And you?" you asked. "You're from Busan, right?"

"Yeah, that's home," he said, a soft smile spreading across his face. "The band was created there," he continued proudly.

"You guys were amazing tonight," you said, genuinely impressed by the crowd's reaction. "The crowd was wild."

"Thanks," he said, a hint of pride in his voice, but also a touch of modesty. "It was a good crowd. We're still getting used to this kind of response."

"Getting used to it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You guys were like… rock stars."

He chuckled. "We're just a few guys who love making music. It's great to see people enjoying it."

You spotted a photo booth, a long line snaking its way towards it. "Damn," you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. "I wanted to go there. Couldn't even get in yesterday."

Jungkook simply looked at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. He’s quiet. Too quiet. What’s he thinking?

As you walked, you spotted Soobin in the distance, talking to a group of people. You both made eye contact for a brief moment, then quickly looked away. Awkward. Just… awkward.

"I'm actually here only for a day more," you said, breaking the silence, the thought of your limited time in the city suddenly feeling more pressing.

"Oh," he replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "we've got to make the most of it then."

You were taken aback a little. Not that you minded it.

"So," he asked, his voice low, "I'll see you tomorrow?" You paused, a playful smile playing on your lips. He’s asking you out. And  you can’t help but want to say yes. "Yes," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. "I'd like that."

The next morning you smiled as you woke up. It had been a while you woke up like that.

You immediately took your phone from the nightstand and saw a text from him.

Now when did he save his name as that? Oh yeah when he dropped you off at the hotel last night and you exchanged numbers.

Jane was not in the room when you came back from whatever it is that you and Jungkook had going on last night.

You turned around to see Jane fast asleep on her bed. 

Guess you weren’t the only one who had a great time last night.

You didn’t want to enter into something too fast. Hell, you had finally found your way out from the shackles of Mingyu and even Soobin for that matter. You definitely didn’t want to ruin things - if there was even anything, with Jungkook.

You were just gonna see how things go. Yeah.

Getting out of your thoughts, you replied back to Jungkook.

Yeah definitely shouldn’t have said that.

This all you saw for the next two minutes which felt like hours.

Great, just great. 

What felt like eternity, you heard your phone ting with a notification of a new message.

You immediately opened his chat, hoping to see you haven’t embarrassed yourself yet. Lord, please.

Well thank god for that.

With a big smile on your face, you take out your comfiest pair of jeans, crop top and a leather jacket and go for your shower.

Today was going to be good. You had a feeling.

As you exited the elevator, you saw Jungkook waiting in the lobby, leaning against a marble pillar, dressed casually in a faded denim jacket, dark jeans, and sneakers. His hair, slightly tousled, caught the morning light. He looked effortlessly cool. He smiled as he saw you, a warm, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Ready for what could possibly be the best day of your life?"

"Is it? The stakes seem high,”  you smirked and said, slipping your hand into his. His hand was warm, his grip firm but gentle. His touch, a familiar warmth, a promise of adventure.

He led you out onto the busy street, the air thick with the smell of exhaust fumes and hot pretzels. The sounds of the city surrounded you—the honking of taxis, the rumble of buses, the chatter of pedestrians. "Central Park first," he said, nodding towards the green expanse.

The park was a welcome break from the city's intensity. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of towering oak trees, dappling the paths with patches of light and shadow. You walked, the sounds of the city fading into a background hum, replaced by the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. He pointed out quiet spots, little details you wouldn’t have noticed on your own—a hidden fountain, a secluded bench, a patch of wildflowers.

"I used to come here a lot," he said, stopping by a small pond where ducks paddled lazily. "When I needed to… get away. Just to think."

“I have a similar place. In Seoul,” You reminisce and share with him.

You then stopped at a hot dog stand, the aroma of grilled onions and mustard filling the air. "Hungry?" he asked, grinning.

"Starving," you admitted, your stomach audibly rumbling.

You got two hot dogs, laughing as you struggled with the mustard and sauerkraut, the tangy smell making your mouth water. "This is a mess," you said, wiping your hands with a napkin.

He chuckled, gently wiping a smudge of mustard from your cheek with his thumb. "Yeah, but it's good." His touch was light, but it sent a little shiver down your spine, a warmth spreading through your chest. His eyes held yours, and for a moment, the bustling city faded away.

“So when do you come back to Seoul?” You ask, curious. 

“Just one more show in NYC, and we are back,” He smiles and tells you.

He then takes you to a  speakeasy tucked behind an unassuming bookstore, where they sip on cocktails under dim, moody lighting. A rooftop that offers an exclusive view of the skyline, one he swears is better than any observation deck. 

And then a  tiny, family-run vinyl shop where you flip through records together, fingers brushing occasionally as the two of you reach for the same one.

That’s when the conversation shifts.

The two of you talk about your mutual love for music. How it’s always been more than just sound for you—how it’s an experience, an emotion, a story in itself. 

“Ever since I was a kid, I used to collect CDs or cassettes of any new album that came out. If it was new, I just had to have it,” You chuckled and reminisced. 

However you did notice an expression on Jungkook’s face. That made you feel something that you haven’t felt in a while.

You also tell him about the concerts you have attended, the ones you have worked on, how you are drawn to the artistry of it all.  He listens intently, eyes never leaving yours. 

Then, he shares his own journey—his struggles, his passion, the moments that made him fall in love with music all over again.

“You know, when I started out, I had no idea what I was doing,” he admits with a small chuckle, leaning back against the vinyl shelves. “I mean, I loved music, but I didn’t think I’d ever actually make something people would listen to.”

You tilt your head, intrigued. “So what changed?”

He exhales, glancing down at a record in his hands. “I met people who believed in me more than I did. And eventually, I had to start believing too.” He looks up at you then, a quiet intensity in his gaze. “It wasn’t easy, though. I’ve had moments where I wanted to quit, where I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough. But every time I step on stage, every time I write something that actually means something to me… it reminds me why I started.”

You watch him, the way his fingers tap lightly against the record’s cover, the way his voice carries that underlying passion. “That’s incredible,” you murmur. “I think that’s why I love music so much. It’s raw. It’s real. And it connects people in ways nothing else can.”

A small smile plays on his lips. “Exactly.”

There’s an understanding between the two of you, something unspoken yet deeply felt.

Before the night ends, he tugs you toward a small photo booth tucked away in a side street.

“Come on, let’s make it official. Proof that I was the best New York tour guide,” he jokes, but there’s a softness in his gaze.

Inside, the space is small, forcing you both closer than before. The first picture is casual, both of you grinning. The second, a silly face-off. The third? A little more still. You are both just… looking at each other, lips parted slightly, something lingering in the air between them. And the fourth—well, he doesn’t hesitate to throw an arm around you, pulling you just a tad bit closer.

When the strip of photos prints out, you take one, he keeps the other. Neither of you say much about the moment, but you both know something has shifted.

The city starts to feel quieter as he walks you back to your hotel. You both stop just outside the entrance of your hotel, the hum of the streets still buzzing around them. He shifts on his feet before finally speaking up.

“I had a good time today,” You smile. You meant it.

“Me too. Had the best time,” Jungkook looks in your eyes. The kind of look that says he doesn’t want to let go. You knew that because you were feeling the same way.

And then,

“___” He calls out your name and you look at him.

He seems nervous when he says this. “Can I take you out for real? Once we’re in Seoul?” His voice holds a mix of hesitation and confidence, as if he already knows the answer but still wants to hear it from you.

Is this really happening?

Then, after a beat, he adds, “I know this is fast, but I just… I don’t know, I want to explore whatever this is.”

You don't reply immediately, just look at him, your heart pounding against your ribs. Then, with a shy nod, you managed to say, “Yeah. Me too,”

A slow smile spreads across his face.

He looks even more endearing with this genuine smile of his.

Guess you both were the kind of people who wanted to take risks and not have regrets later.

He leans in, pressing a soft peck against your cheek before pulling back.

“Goodnight.”

And just like that, he walks away, leaving you standing there with your fingers grazing the spot where his lips had been, your heart still racing, your mind already replaying the night over and over again.

A week later, you wake up with a text. The kind of text that makes you gushy like a teenager.

And before you could respond to him, you received another text. a series of texts rather.

While the two of them continued to bicker, you had to reply back to him.

Maybe love really doesn’t disappear. Maybe it just reverbs—waiting for the right moment to be heard again.

And maybe it was finally your time.

© foreignjaykay, 2025.

[finkriel]

A Serious Confession

No amount of vitriolic emotions within me for these past two days will ever satiate the level of hatred, disgust and betrayal I am feeling. But it cannot compare to the numerous amount of people that feel the same way.

As a former ex close friend of Kittycorn Samson, I need to get this out as it has been eating me away for these past four days. I was one of her friends that was not only introduced to her incestuous content but also contributed to enabling her behavior and hiding it from the public. While I engaged it in private and controlled settings, I did contribute to it throughout these past nine months and I take full accountability for my bad decisions there. Many people have already spoken on the matter and I will do the same here as I owe it to everyone.

To start off, my relationship with her has always been that of a close friend. As someone who was a sparklecare fan since the middle of 2022, I met her on the official Sparklecord, to which I would approach her on her personal tumblr blog on November 2022, to where she introduced me her comet characters and we soon found commonalities with each other, such as living in the same state as well as so it was fairly simple to connect with her. With the way she described her trauma experiences to me as well as the love she had for her characters, it was easy for me to sympathize with her and I grew to care for her immensely. While I was never a clown myself, she would spoil to me the entirety of the story she was planning (including the Mickey Family and Sly’s “secret canon” character archetype) and the more stories she shared, the more I got invested. But it was during June 13th, 2024, where she asked me a strange and specific question that I never questioned, about the topic of being into something that comforts the person that other people would say otherwise and, being into something that heals the traumatized person that other people would say otherwise. While I was uncomfortable and confused at the time (hence why it took so long to answer her questions), I pushed aside those feelings just because she was my friend. And I thought that it wasn’t as harmful like she described it to me here. (The screenshots here were taken on Tuesday, where I blocked her afterwards, I still have access to her messages so if anyone wants me to divulge additional information, I am more than willing to do just that)

Looking back at how I acted when she revealed to me about this and her incestuous story, I feel so disgusted and ashamed of myself. The "googles" I had on, did not allow me to see how truly deplorable that the content she had been indulging and the only reason I did support her was from the pure belief that it was helping her heal her trauma when nothing else at the time could, which to an extent it was, given the way she has been acting throughout out 2024. I truly believed during all that time that it was the right thing to do and that it wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be. In addition, it was around this time where I was finally in a place to work again that I felt the immediate compulsion to help her out financially, which boosted my incentive to keep supporting her and not tell anyone about this. This also extended to Imani, who also engaged with this incestuous content and I sacrificed countless days and nights at work to financially support her, given the sympathies I had for the abuse she was suffering from. (This screenshot from the callout document, took place in one of Kittycorn’s private servers that she invited me five days later (the one with Emsody, Kai, and chaosblast) and as you can see, the person blurred out that was responding to Imani, was me. What I said here, I no longer believe but I know it is not an excuse.

Little did I know that Kittycorn has secretly been in contact with groomers, pedophiles and predators such as Chimera, Woof, and so many countless others, to the point that she was actually friends with them and has been abusing and silencing victims all this time. Keep in mind that during all of these months, it was knowledge that I was completely unaware of, knowledge that she HIDED away without me knowing it and it was only until the callout document came out that I found out about the matter. That was the point where I blocked her out from my life. (Edit [Sunday - 3:22 PM]: I removed the part about Imani of her action in the doc, as chaosblast_ has informed me in a server that the art was shared in an 18+ server so anyone could have sent it to the alleged minors. In addition, sparkletroll [the person marked in yellow in one of the screenshots] said that they didn’t want the person behind the doc to share it anywhere since they weren’t sure if they had the right story but the person did. The proof is unsubstantiated so know that information has been updated.)

That however, does not cancel out the complicity I am a part of when it comes to Kittycorn. In no way, does it make any of the things I have said, an excuse. Hell fucking no, is it not, and I do not want to deny it. I have nothing blame for but myself and the blinded love and compassion I had for Eve as a friend.

To anyone that reads this, you do not have to forgive me and you all have every right to be furious at me. I’m not innocent in any way and there’s no excuse for the participation that I played a part in all of this. I just want to let you know that I am truly, truly sorry. I can never ever forgive myself for supporting her nor can I ever make it up. But know that I will always stand against incest and pro-ship content. It was never something I indulged prior to that day and I for the life of me, would rather stand my morals and my gut feelings than blindly accepting excuses that individuals such as Eve, engage in, while hurting hundreds of people in the process. I hope you all can at least gauge the information I have provided here. Feel free to ask questions if you have any.

[pomegranatelifethis]

What If in the ‘Forgotten Princess’ x Robin Hood y/n ran away from home if you can call it that because like Robin Hood were they GOOD at it and made a team of lost or abused people who have talent but were left in the roast like them…

They disguised as a circus or like Yaelokre and they move from site to site and from town to town and they start slowly growing they know that y/n used to be a princess but they put it to getter that they were abused because they never hear about them and the scares and like y/n is nice and give them a home so they not fighting the head that feeds them

And the bats find out that they are dead and how and they are sad and stuff but one day they find out that their home was robbed by the gang (using y/n knowledge on the castle layout) and they found y/n circus/yaelokre and see them and when they follow them they found out they are Robin hood and they see them take away a girl that was being abused and take them back to camp

And they learn why they basically adopted a bunch of kids and adults because they were living in hate, hurt, and no good life and they took them away and trained them to rob and give to the poor and to play music or do what they love

But they get caught and arrows are pointed at them and offer weapons and when they are surrounded they say ‘I the dad/brother/sister of your leader’ and y/n look at them with filed eyes and not love they show to the team some of them step back just by that look and said ‘since when?..’ and then they knocked out and left on a road with no of the money to fables they had

If you do this thank you, I put a way to muck through into this and love your writing :)

The Princess Forgotten in the Dark

The palace was never your home. It never had been.

People avoided your gaze, servants who didn’t even know your name were treated as more important than you. You were supposed to be a princess. But in reality, you were nothing more than a ghost.

And one day, you ran.

Maybe out of hunger, maybe out of fear, or maybe just… because you wanted something to change.

But you wouldn’t have survived long on your own.

Just when you thought it was over, they found you.

Thieves.

But not the kind you expected. They weren’t bad people.

They were like you.

They took in the lost, the abandoned, the abused.

They had built their own little family.

And they took you in, too.

They fed you.

They gave you a name.

They gave you a purpose.

In time, you learned to be fast. To move quietly, to pick locks, to disappear without a trace.

But more importantly, you learned to save others.

No one had ever saved you, but now you could be the one to save them.

You raided slave markets, you stole from corrupt lords, you fed the hungry.

People began to call you a hero.

You were free.

Until one day, your past found you.

—

A heist went wrong.

You were surrounded. Arrows aimed at you.

And worse… Batfamily was there.

Bruce’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"I am your father."

Everyone turned to look at you.

You looked back at them.

But there was no recognition in your eyes.

You didn’t know them.

And you didn’t want to.

"Since when…?" someone whispered.

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know.

Because it didn’t matter.

Because you weren’t that person anymore.

And then… darkness took you.

But even as you fell, you knew one thing.

You never wanted to go back.

Because your family was here, among the thieves.

And they never forgot you.

[mi-co-uk]

ᴬᴺᵀᴵᴰᴼᵀᴱ

ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ!ᴍᴀᴛᴛ x ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

PART ONE: matt finally talks to the girl he's been stalking <3

ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳˢ: flirtinggg, language, implied stalking, drinking, matt gets slapped lol (general build up for the smut next chapterrrr)

ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵐᵘᵗ,ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ ⋆𐙚

wc: 800 words ish

ᵖ.ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵃʳ ⁱˢ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ ᶜᵒᶻ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵈʸˢˡᵉˣⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵃᶻʸ <3

ᵖˡˢ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ <3

<- navigation

<- previous

"so what's wrong with you?"

matt hated being caught off guard. he needed to be confident of his surroundings at all times. he monitored people, the way they spoke, the areas of a room they most often resided in, and how long it took for their cups to empty before they searched for something to fill them back up again with.

he didn't understand how anyone could slip under his radar, especially not you.

he couldn't even form a response, he was too dumbfounded that you were within a certain distance, looking directly at him.

"you're the big bad matt right?" you titled your head at him, almost accusatory.

matt regained his composure forcefully, eyes quickly scanning to reanalyse his position in the room - aswell as everyone else's.

"apparently." he dismissed the question, refusing to let you get his hopes up.

you step somewhat closer to his spot, where he leant back against one of the drinks tables.

"my brother doesn't want you here apparently."

"yet here I am." he began to sip at his drink, eyes now staring you down. what did you want?

you matched his stare, not shying away from him. matt felt his confidence falter, but not enough for you to notice.

"I've been told explicitly not to talk to you," you reach for matt's drink - "and I wanna know why." - before taking a sip.

your curiosity shouldve been enough to make him fold, but matt had his own curiosity to combat yours. he began engraving your features into his memory - the layer of perfected makeup and your wide-eyed expression. you were close enough to kiss, making matts heart skip - but he couldn't act on it, depite how it made him feel.

"your brother's right, pretty. don't go talking to strangers."

"you're not exactly a stranger, are you? I know your name don't I?" your mouth curls into a small smirk, matts expression now mirrors yours.

"that make us friends, huh?"

you hum in approval, confident that matt's dismissive attitude was finally lost.

"what about the fact everyone here knows your name? you friends with everyone here?" he continued, your smile dropping from what he implies.

your body language becomes the direct opposite, physically and mentally taken aback from his change in tone - just when you thought you'd hooked him in.

"what, you think I'm a whore?" your eyes squint in a critical manner.

"no, I think you're the opposite." he mutters quickly, retrieving his cup from your grasp, mirroring your previous action and taking a sip.

matt knows everything about you that he could. he'd watched you in almost every social interaction for the past countless months. it had driven him insane, riddling his body with jealousy each time you flirted with those that matt deemed as unworthy of even living on the same planet as you. but you did it nonetheless. all. the. time. and you loved doing it.

but what matt had noticed, disappointingly a while late, was that it never went further. you'd seduce endlessly, giving hope to the most pitiful of men, but that was it. you wouldn't let them lay a single hand on you.

as much of this was relieving for matts tireless envy, he couldn't grasp why. and now with him a victim of your charm, he decided to toy with you.

"why do you do it, huh? talk to anyone and everyone .. but you're always on your own. I don't get it."

matt now had the upper hand, holding all control in the conversation while your demeanor became timid.

"that's none of your-" "is it your brother?"

you rolled your eyes at the accusation - the lack of even a twitch or an ounce of increased nervousness meant matt was going down the wrong lane.

"not your brother.." he began thinking out loud. "just want the attention but not the commitment?"

you crossed your arms in response, giving up on responding or acknowledging matt's questionnaire.

matt scanned your expression while mentally theorising. what is it that makes you tick? what was he missing?

"you afraid?"

the stern expression dropped, ever so slightly. "what?"

"you are." matts grin grew wider.

"I'm not."

"cmon don't bother lying." he leant down to start whispering in your ear.

"maybe you got so used to being seen from face value that you just never showed what was underneath, yeah?"

matt watched your gaze focus everywhere but him, your breathing quiet but not entirely controlled. leaning back, he studied your expression.

"some asshole tell you your heart wasn't as pretty?" "fuck you."

"now you think you're too good for me, princess?"

your eyes finally locked onto matt's, only for a split second before your palm came into quick contact with his jaw. his head barely recoiled, a smug grin still sat comfortably as he analysed you.

silence spilled into your surroundings, conversations beginning to simmer into confused mutters as they watch you and matt continue interacting. embarrassment fills your body.

"you're not a stranger to me." matt doesnt draw his attention away from you for a single second. "and you're plenty pretty, alright?"

your conflicting emotions shrivel down in comparison to your focus on matt, his face relaxed and eyes flickering back and forth between yours.

"so quit being someone you're not."

next ->

｡𖦹°‧

a/n only gave u half while I make sure I'm happy with the smut half of this bit 😝😝 let me know what you thiiiiinkkk

taglist: @pair-of-pantaloons @oopsiedaisydeer @corspebridedelrey @faiyaz555 @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosrtewsexy @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @emely9274 @baebadoobee4ever @fw-lee @afr8idofrats @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @pr3ttylittleslutt @franticroads @m4gz-png @sosasturns @clairomatt @allisonclairee @vannahy @whor3ing