#guys please do you see my vision with this

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: Part 4

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella X fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 9.7K

Warnings: explicit smut, fingering, NSFW so MDNI

A/N: I’m so touched by all the love on this series ❤️ this is the first explicit smut in this series so let me know how you guys feel about it and if it has a place in this series xo

You barely registered the path you took through the lavish space, your heart pounding in your chest, your vision blurring slightly from the mix of emotions and alcohol. Everything that had happened in the last half hour crashed over you all at once- Whisky’s words, Miles’ offer, the suffocating weight of doubt pressing into your ribs. It was all too much.

You just needed Claire.

You pushed through the doors to the quieter lounge area, your eyes scanning the room desperately until they landed on her. She was standing with Lionel, her expression serious as they spoke in hushed voices. But the second her gaze flicked up and found yours, everything else faded.

"Baby?" Her voice was immediate and alert. She took one look at you, at your glassy eyes and unsteady stance, and her body went rigid with concern. "What’s wrong?"

Lionel sighed, clearly irritated by the interruption, but he took one look at you and seemed to decide against saying anything. "We’ll finish this later," he muttered to Claire before excusing himself. You barely noticed him leave.

Claire was already closing the distance between you, her hands reaching for you, cupping your face gently. "Hey, hey, talk to me, sweetheart," she murmured, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Let me make it better. What happened?"

A small, broken sound escaped your lips as you collapsed into her, your arms winding around her neck, your body molding to hers as you clung to her like she was the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. Claire caught you instantly, wrapping you up in her strong arms, her warmth anchoring you as you buried your face against her shoulder.

"Shh, I got you," she whispered, running a hand down your back soothingly. "I’ve got you, my baby."

You wanted to speak, to explain, but all that came out was a shaky breath, and Claire’s hold on you only tightened. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her sharp eyes scanning your face, taking in every little detail- the redness in your eyes, the way your lower lip trembled.

Her expression darkened, protective. "Who do I need to kill?" she half-joked, but there was a dangerous edge to her voice. "Tell me what you need, baby."

You just shook your head, your fingers gripping at the fabric of her dress. "Just… you, please, I need you," you murmured, barely coherent.

Something in Claire’s face softened, but the worry never left her eyes. She exhaled slowly, one hand slipping down to your waist as she effortlessly lifted you onto the table behind her, hiking your dress up to your hips as she stepped in between your parted thighs, pressing her body against yours.

"I’m right here," she murmured, one hand still cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to hers. "You’ve got me, baby. Always."

Claire forced herself to pull back, her breathing uneven as she cupped your face between her hands. Your desperation had set her blood on fire, but now that the haze of lust was clearing, she could see just how wrecked you truly were.

"Baby," she murmured, searching your face, brushing her thumbs over your damp cheeks. "No, c’mon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to pull her back in, trying to press your body closer, anything to get her to give you what you wanted. "Nothing’s wrong, just- please, mommy, please," you whispered, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress like you were afraid she might let go. "I just need you, need to feel you close, need-"

"Hey, hey, shhh, baby," Claire soothed, her heart aching at the way your voice cracked. You looked so overwhelmed, so lost, and it killed her that she didn’t know why. "You have me, sweetheart. You always have me."

She softened her hold on you, brushing a hand down your back, grounding you. "But I need to know what’s going on, okay?" she coaxed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Tell me what’s got you like this, my pretty girl."

Claire felt you trembling in her arms, your grip on her tightening like you were afraid she’d slip through your fingers. Her hands instinctively curled around your waist, holding you firm, steady, grounding.

"Baby, hey," she whispered, brushing her lips against your temple. "Tell me what’s going on."

You swallowed thickly, burying your face in her neck for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. Your eyes were glassy, desperate. "Whisky… she said you’d never come out," you admitted, voice small. "That after Senate, there will just be another goal, another reason to hide. She said I was stupid to believe you." Your breath hitched, hands clenching in the fabric of her dress. "Tell me she’s wrong. Please, tell me she’s wrong. She doesn’t know you, she doesn’t know us."

Claire’s whole body went rigid.

For a moment, there was only silence- thick, tense, and charged. Then, slowly, her hands slid to your thighs, gripping them as she stepped closer, pressing herself firmly between them. "That bitch needs to stay out of our business," she seethed, voice low, dangerous.

You gasped softly at the sudden shift in her, the fire in her eyes blazing with something fierce, something possessive. Claire was always protective of you, but this- this was different. This was territorial.

"Baby," she murmured, tilting your chin up with two fingers, her grip firm but reverent. "Listen to me. You are mine. Nobody gets to come between us, nobody gets to plant doubts in your pretty little head. Whisky doesn’t know shit about us. She doesn’t know how much I love you, how much I’d burn down the whole fucking world for you if I had to."

Your breath came out shaky, your heart hammering. "Claire…"

"No," she cut you off, her hands sliding up your body, one curling around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. "You don’t listen to her. You listen to me. I promised you, didn’t I? I said I’d come out after Senate, and I will. I swear it, baby."

"But-"

"No buts," she interrupted, pressing her forehead against yours. "You belong to me. No one is ever going to take you from me. And I’m going to make sure nobody ever tries again."

Her lips crashed into yours, the sheer dominance in her kiss stealing the breath from your lungs. It was deep, claiming, unwavering. You whimpered against her, gripping onto her shoulders, letting her pull you impossibly closer.

When she finally pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, she pressed one last kiss to your lips- softer this time, but just as firm. "Mine," she whispered, her thumb brushing over your cheek. "Forever."

“Forever” you nodded quickly, eyes looking up at her wide and glassy. “P-please Claire… need you” you breathed.

Claire’s fingertips dig into your hips, hard enough to mark you up with bruises. “Oh baby, I can’t turn you down when you beg for me like that,” she groaned, hooking a finger into the waistband of your lace panties and tugging them off.

She pulls back just enough to get a glimpse of your glistening pussy on display for her, her fingers twitching against your thighs as she inhaled sharply at the sight.

“Fucking hell baby…” she eventually managed, letting her middle finger brush lightly along your glistening folds, lightly flicking your clit with the tip of her finger. “Already so wet for me hm?” She trails kisses up the column of your throat as you tilt your head back to give her unfettered access.

She gently nips at your earlobe, and you shiver at the sensation, gasping out a breathy plea for more. She happily obliges, slipping two of her fingers inside your aching pussy making you feel deliciously full.

“C-can I-?” you panted against her as her fingers slid in and out of you at a maddeningly slow pace.

With a subtle nod of Claire’s permission, you are allowed to take what you need, holding onto her shoulders as your pussy clenched round her long fingers. She’s plunging them in and out of you as you ride her hand, her thumb keeping a relentless pace on your clit as you writhe against her, the two of you working in tandem to bring you to your release.

Claire has spent many a long night committing every last inch of your body to memory, so she knows how to curl her fingers just right to drive you over the edge.

“F-Fuck, mommy I‘m coming!” you moan, and it must be louder than you realize, because Claire is quick to wrap a hand round your throat, pressing her lips against yours in a filthy kiss to muffle your desperate moans.

“You’re gonna get us caught pretty girl,” Claire warns you, but she doesn’t slow her pace, determined to make you fall apart on her fingers.

The danger of being discovered with Claire’s fingers knuckle deep inside of you has your orgasm crashing over you, and you cry out Claire’s name as it hits. She allows you to ride out your high till you begin to feel yourself twitch, oversensitive, before removing her fingers from your pussy, bringing them to her mouth and swirling her tongue around them to taste your slick. The sight alone was almost enough to make you cum again.

“You taste fucking delectable baby,” she breaths as her hands pull your limp body against her chest, words going straight to your core.

You were breathless, panting softly against Claire’s lips, your body still trembling from the sheer intensity of her kiss. Your fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as you let out a delicate whimper, overwhelmed, overrun by the force of her love, her claim on you.

Claire exhaled sharply, grounding herself, before her hands slid back down your body, gripping your waist as she pulled you up onto your feet. She kept you close, unwilling to let you go for even a second, her arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Baby," she murmured, pressing a flurry of soft kisses over your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose. "My sweet girl. My love. I’ve got you."

You let out another shaky breath, melting into her, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed along your jaw, her lips warm and tender against your skin.

"I love you," she whispered between kisses, her voice soft but unwavering. "So much. More than anything. You’re mine, baby. No one will ever change that."

You whimpered again, clutching at her, your body still sensitive from everything- your emotions, her possessiveness, her fingers deep inside you. Claire held you through it, her hands smoothing up and down your back, grounding you, steadying you.

"Shh, I’ve got you," she soothed, pressing another lingering kiss to your temple. "Always."

You exhaled shakily against Claire’s shoulder, your body still thrumming from everything that had just happened. Her arms remained locked around you, protective and grounding, her lips brushing over your temple like she was afraid you might slip through her fingers if she let go. You wanted to stay in this moment, just wrapped up in her, safe from everything that had happened tonight- but you knew you had to tell her.

You swallowed hard and pulled back slightly, looking up at her, still holding onto her tightly. "Baby," you murmured, voice quiet, almost hesitant. "There’s… something else I need to tell you."

Claire’s body tensed instantly. Her hands tightened on your waist, her protective instincts flaring up the second she heard the shift in your tone. "What is it?" she asked, her voice lower now, sharper.

You hesitated, but then you forced yourself to say it. "Miles- he, um… he offered to help me with my books."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"He said he could get me the best of the best to promote my work," you explained, watching her face carefully. "Make me a household name. Said I’d be a younger, hotter Stephen King or something."

The moment the words left your mouth, Claire’s entire expression hardened. Her jaw clenched, and her grip on you became just a little tighter. "No," she said immediately, her voice firm, unwavering. "Don’t you dare."

You blinked in surprise, confused by how fast and fiercely she shut it down. "What?"

"I mean it," she said, pulling back just enough to cup your face between her hands, forcing you to look at her. Her thumbs brushed over your cheeks, but her gaze was sharp, serious. "You don’t want to be indebted to him in any way. You don’t want to owe him anything."

"I didn’t say yes," you protested, thrown off by her intensity. "I just said I’d think about it, but I wasn’t actually- "

"Don’t," she interrupted, shaking her head firmly. "Don’t even consider it. That man doesn’t do favors, baby. If he’s offering you something, it’s because he’s expecting something back. And once he has his claws in you, you’ll never get out. He will own you."

You bit your lip, feeling a little uneasy now. You hadn’t really thought about it like that before. At the time, you’d been so overwhelmed that you hadn’t fully considered what it actually meant.

"I wasn’t planning on taking it," you admitted softly, your fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of Claire’s dress. "It just… caught me off guard, that’s all."

Claire sighed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, but her hands didn’t leave you. "Good," she muttered, pressing her forehead against yours. "I mean it, baby. Stay away from that offer. You don’t need Miles fucking Bron to make you successful. You’re brilliant all on your own."

Your heart fluttered a little at that, at the raw sincerity in her voice. She believed in you so fully, so completely, in a way that made your chest ache.

"Yeah?" you whispered, searching her face.

Claire pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her fingers tilting your chin up. "Yeah," she murmured, and there was so much certainty in her voice. "And if you ever do need help with promotion, or dealing with your publishers, I will handle it. Not Miles. Not anyone else. You’re mine to take care of, baby."

You exhaled shakily, your eyes growing glassy again. "You always take care of me," you whispered.

"Damn right I do," she murmured, and then she kissed you, slow and deep, like she needed you to understand just how much she meant it.

When she pulled back, her hands stroked down your arms, her touch warm and steady. "Now," she murmured, her voice gentler, but still firm. "Let’s go get through this damn dinner."

~

Claire kept a steady arm wrapped around you as the two of you made your way back to the dinner, her grip firm but careful, guiding you as you still felt slightly unsteady. Between the alcohol, the overwhelming emotions of the night, and the way Claire had just taken care of you, your legs felt weaker than you wanted to admit. But Claire knew. She always knew.

"Easy, baby," she murmured, her voice low and warm as she pulled you just a little closer, adjusting her grip. "You okay?"

You nodded, nuzzling your face into her shoulder, breathing her in. "Mhm. Just need you close."

"I’m not going anywhere," she promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As you stepped back into the dining area, you could already feel the change in atmosphere. The music was softer now, the drinks still flowing, the group still lively- but you could sense the undercurrent of tension between certain people. Your eyes flickered to Whisky, who was seated at the table, her expression unreadable as she stirred her drink. Claire noticed too.

You felt her tense, her grip on you tightening slightly as her gaze burned in Whisky’s direction, her jaw clenching like she was one wrong move away from saying something she shouldn’t.

You exhaled softly, and before she could stew too much in her anger, you curled further into her arms, tilting your head up to look at her.

"Claire," you murmured, voice soft, wanting to pull her focus back to you, back to something good.

She glanced down at you, her brow still furrowed, her body still humming with frustration, but the moment she saw you- saw how soft your gaze was, how safe you felt in her arms- some of the tension melted away.

"You look so pretty," you told her, your voice slightly dreamy, the alcohol still making you a little loose-limbed and affectionate.

Her expression softened instantly, her eyes flickering over your face, studying you like she always did, like you were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

"Yeah?" she murmured, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

You nodded, reaching up to brush your fingers against her cheek. "So pretty," you whispered, and you meant it so much.

Claire’s lips parted slightly, something unreadable flickering across her face before she sighed, shaking her head slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping her. "My sweet girl," she murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your hair, her fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back.

She held you close as the two of you made your way to the table, and as much as there was still so much left unresolved- Miles, Whisky, the entire tangled mess of the night- right now, you just wanted to exist in this. Just you and her, wrapped up in each other, in the warmth of her arms, in the way she always held onto you like you were the most important thing in the world.

Miles stood at the head of the long dining table, drink in hand, his signature wide, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. He spread his arms in a grand gesture, commanding the attention of the group as the conversation quieted around him.

"Gang," he started, pausing for effect, his voice warm and performative, "this has been an amazing weekend so far. And let me tell you, the next three days? You’re not ready. We are going to have the most amazing time. I’ve got activities planned, games to play-" he winked, "-a little something for everyone."

There were a few murmurs of anticipation, Birdie clapping her hands together excitedly, Duke raising his glass in agreement. Claire, beside you, exhaled quietly, her fingers still tracing slow, grounding circles against your back as you remained curled into her side.

Miles took a sip of his drink before continuing, his tone turning just sentimental enough to feel practiced. "But more than that, this trip isn’t just about fun- it’s about us. My closest friends. My fellow Disruptors."

At that, a few of them chuckled, nodding along. You caught Lionel’s jaw tightening slightly, his shoulders stiff, but he said nothing.

"You know," Miles went on, "after all this time, after everything we’ve built together, after all those billions… you remain my oldest and dearest friends." His voice dropped into something almost conspiratorial. "And do you know why that is?"

There was a pause. No one answered. Miles grinned.

"Because I appreciate honesty. I value loyalty. I see the real ones when they’re in front of me. And each of you?" He tapped the rim of his glass with a single finger. "You’ve been real ones since day one."

A few voices murmured agreement, Birdie giggling and whispering something to Peg, Whisky taking a long sip of her drink.

"And that’s why we’re here," Miles concluded, raising his glass higher. "To celebrate the bonds that connect us. The trust, the love- the history that’s led us to this moment. So here’s to us, gang. Here’s to the past, the present, and the future of the Disruptors."

Everyone lifted their glasses in a toast, murmuring their own agreements. Claire, beside you, barely lifted hers, her expression unreadable as she stared at Miles with the faintest trace of skepticism.

You swallowed, shifting slightly against her. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he crafted his words that left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

But before you could dwell on it too much, Claire gently pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you closer, grounding you.

"To us," Miles echoed once more with a wide, satisfied grin.

And everyone drank.

Miles grinned, raising his glass even higher. "Here’s to my OGs!"

There were more murmurs of agreement, glasses clinking together, the mood warm and celebratory- at least on the surface. You absently twirled a piece of your hair around your finger as you listened, your gaze unfocused as Miles continued speaking.

"Because that’s what friends do," he went on smoothly, "we help each other. Just look around. Look at what we’ve built together."

He gestured with his glass as he spoke. "I help Claire with her campaign because I believe in her. And look at her? Throwing a grenade into the machine of politics. Lionel? My guy keeps everything at Alpha running like the genius he is. Duke’s building his brand, and I’m making sure he’s got the platform to do it. Birdie’s got a whole new venture coming up, and I’m investing because that’s what we do. We look out for each other."

You frowned slightly, looking up at him. "So what do you need help with?" you asked.

A brief flicker of frustration crossed Miles’ face. "Excuse me?"

You tilted your head. "This dinner." You gestured loosely around the table. "You brought everyone here to celebrate, but also to remind everyone how you’ve helped them along. So what do you need help with?"

Miles hesitated for just a beat too long. Then he let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if amused. "Well… now you mention it…"

You felt Claire stiffen slightly beside you. As Miles spoke, you caught the faint sound of Lionel muttering under his breath to Claire. "I told you there was a reason he brought up my employment…"

Claire exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers tightening around her wine glass. You felt her shift beside you, straightening slightly, and you could sense her anxiety growing.

Miles, meanwhile, let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his chest as if the weight of the world had just been placed upon him. “I’ve been going through something recently and I wasn’t going to mention it but…" he said, tone dripping with faux exasperation. "If you must know… Andi’s legal team has been on my ass."

That got everyone’s attention. The mood at the table shifted- subtle, but noticeable. A few glances were exchanged, and Lionel closed his eyes for half a second, as if bracing himself for what was coming next.

"Something about intellectual ownership and the napkin…" Miles continued, waving his hand dismissively. "It’s all bullshit, obviously. We all know I came up with the founding idea of Alpha, right gang?" He gestured around the table, expecting agreement. No one immediately jumped to confirm it.

"Well, anyway," he pushed on, "there’s no way she can actually prove what she’s saying, but… I’m being taken to court anyway."

There it was.

You felt Claire’s breath hitch, the tension in her body clear as day. Lionel sat back slightly in his chair, rubbing his forehead. Birdie, completely oblivious to the shift in mood, took a sip of her drink like this was nothing more than casual dinner conversation. Your own stomach twisted. Even tipsy, even overwhelmed from the night’s emotions, you knew this was huge. And Miles didn’t seem nearly as concerned as he should be.

Duke, ever blunt, frowned and leaned forward. "So… what does that have to do with us?"

Miles let out another one of his exaggerated sighs, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe they were even asking. "Guys, c’mon. If I’m locked in a legal battle where I might lose everything- we lose everything."

Silence fell over the table.

The realization hit like a slow-moving train, the weight of his words sinking into each of them at different speeds. You felt Claire stiffen beside you. Lionel muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, and Birdie blinked in confusion before tilting her head.

"Why do we lose everything?" she asked, her voice light, still not quite putting the pieces together.

Miles turned to her with the kind of patient condescension he reserved for when he thought he was explaining something so obvious. "Well, Birdie, if Andi takes me to court, I won’t be able to invest in Sweetie Pants. I’ll have to save my money for the lawyers."

Birdie’s mouth dropped open, her freshly glossed lips forming a perfect ‘O’. "What?"

Duke cut in, scowling. "Or my streams? I’m counting on your promotion, dude. That was the whole deal."

Miles sighed again, spreading his hands as if to say what can you do? "And I’d love to give it to you, man, but I can’t… not while Andi is on my ass."

His words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the group.

This wasn’t just about him being sued.

He was making it their problem.

Birdie was the first to break the silence, shifting in her chair, eyes wide with nervous energy. "Well… what do we do?!" And there it was, the first one to show a willingness to stab a friend in the back for the financial security that came with being team Miles.

You swallowed hard. Because the thing was… Birdie might have been the first to say it, but you could feel the same question hanging in the air from everyone else. They were all thinking it.

Miles smiled, like a teacher pleased that his students were finally catching on. "Oh, it’s really simple," he said, spreading his hands. "Something that would make the trial really quick and easy is if you guys just told the court, as witnesses, that you saw me write down the initial idea for Alpha on that napkin at the Glass Onion."

Your stomach turned.

"You know, what really happened," he added smoothly. "Wouldn’t be a lie. Just helping out a friend."

Claire’s grip on your thigh tightened. She was stone still beside you, but you could feel the tension rolling off of her. And that was when it truly clicked. He was asking them to lie.

Under oath.

The silence at the table was thick enough to choke on. Everyone was waiting for someone else to speak first.

Finally, Lionel cleared his throat. "No, man." His voice was firm, but there was a flicker of unease behind his eyes. "We did enough. Cutting out Andi, not protesting when you did what you did… We already stood by while you screwed her over, I’m not doing it again."

Miles sighed heavily, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. "That’s too bad, Lionel," he said, his voice calm… too calm. "Because I need friends and employees I can trust."

Claire shifted beside you, she knew what was coming. So did Lionel.

"And if you can’t be here for me in my time of need," Miles continued, "I don’t know if I can trust you to work for me."

Lionel tensed. "Miles-"

"It’s a shame too," Miles interrupted, shrugging. "I was just talking to my investors about funding your work further. Getting you the equipment you need to show off that science brain. But if I can’t rely on you…" He trailed off, shaking his head with a little smirk, before knocking back his drink.

That was it.

It wasn’t a request for help.

It was a threat.

Claire scoffed, shaking her head as she reached for her wine glass. "Miles, can’t your machine of lawyers and power destroy her by sheer dumb force?" She took a sip, voice casual, but her grip on the stem was tight. "Why do you need us?"

Miles tilted his head, flashing that smug, easy grin. "Claire Bear," he said, voice dripping with faux affection.

She ignored the nickname. "Please," she continued, "I’m a politician. You’re asking me to perjure myself."

Miles laughed, leaning forward like she had just said something adorable. "C’mon, Claire. Having you all speak on my behalf will stop this whole back and forth about Alpha, get Andi off my back, and allow us all to-" he made an exaggerated gesture with his hands, "‘inbreathiate’ in the moment again without the threat of Andi hanging over us."

You frowned. "Inbreathiate?"

"Yeah!" Miles grinned. "It means, like, breathe in the energy of life together-"

"That’s not even a word," You muttered under your breath

Miles ignored you, still looking at Claire. "And if we can get this thing settled quickly, I can continue funding the dreams of my fellow disruptors. It’s in all of our best interests, don’t you think?"

Miles clasped his hands together, scanning the table with that same smug, expectant smile. "Yeah? So I can trust you guys, right?"

There was a beat of hesitation, thick and uncomfortable. Everyone glanced at each other, waiting for someone else to speak first.

And then, predictably, Birdie broke the silence. "Oh, Miles, you know I’ve got your back," she said, her voice a little too bright, a little too eager. "I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I just let Andi ruin everything for you? For us?" She laughed like she wasn’t about to commit perjury.

Miles grinned at her. "That’s my baby Birdie," he said approvingly, raising his glass in her direction.

Duke was next, giving a sharp nod. "Okay, man, whatever you need," he said, voice flat but firm. "I got you."

Miles turned to Lionel now, still smiling but with just the right amount of pressure behind it. "And Lionel?"

Lionel swallowed hard. His fingers clenched around his fork, his shoulders stiff. He knew this was wrong. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his eyes darted away from Miles, in the way his knee bounced under the table. But he also knew what saying no would mean for him, for his career, for everything he’d built.

Finally, he exhaled, looking down at his plate, his voice quieter than before. "Yeah, okay," he muttered. "I’ll do it."

You felt sick.

And then all eyes turned to Claire. Claire didn’t look at you. She was staring at Miles, her expression unreadable, her jaw set.

Miles just kept smiling. "Claire Bear?"

Your grip on Claire’s hand tightened until your knuckles went white. "Claire, you can’t do this, baby, please," you whispered, your voice small and trembling under the weight of what was happening. "It’s illegal. It’s- it’s perjury. You’re a politician. You could lose everything- "

Around the table, the others were watching Claire carefully. Birdie, biting her lip, nodding slightly as if encouraging her to just agree and get it over with. Duke was frowning, arms crossed, brows raised in expectation. Lionel was staring hard at his plate, shoulders hunched, looking nauseous.

And Miles, of course, was smiling.

"C’mon, Claire Bear," he said smoothly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I can only bankroll a candidate I can trust. And if I can’t trust you… well," he made a little show of sighing dramatically, "maybe it’s time I start looking at your opponent instead."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What the fuck?" you snapped, whipping your head toward him. "You can’t do that! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Miles only smirked, ever the composed manipulator. "What? You know how it is, babe. Politics is all about trust. I mean think about it. If her constituents found out she cheated on her husband with a much younger woman? She’s never get their trust back."

Your breath was coming fast now, panic making your chest tight. "Claire, don’t do this."

Claire inhaled slowly, lifting her glass to her lips as if she were simply considering her options, as if she weren’t making a deal with the devil right in front of you.

And then, finally, she exhaled and nodded once, her voice cool and controlled. "Fine," she said, "I’ll say what you need me to say."

Your stomach dropped.

Miles grinned like a cat who’d caught the canary. "Ahh, fantastic! Now that that’s sorted" he clapped his hands together, "let’s eat!"

Just like that, the tension dissolved. The others shifted, murmuring their agreements, reaching for their forks as though they hadn’t just been coerced into a legal conspiracy. As though Claire hadn’t just promised to lie under oath.

You turned to her in horror, tugging on her wrist like a desperate child. "Claire you could go to prison," you whispered, your voice cracking, "Claire, please-"

And then she snapped. "Stop it," she hissed, her voice low but sharp, her grip on your thigh suddenly firm enough to still you completely. "Now."

You flinched at the sudden change in her tone. "But, Claire-"

"I said stop," she cut you off, eyes dark and warning. "I’m handling this."

The finality in her words made your chest constrict. You felt helpless, small, completely stripped of your voice.

Her fingers dug in just slightly where she held you, grounding you, keeping you in place. "I need you to trust me, baby," she said, softer this time, tilting your chin up with two fingers. "You trust Mommy, don’t you?"

You swallowed, eyes welling up. "Not when you’re lying," you admitted in a whisper.

Her jaw ticked slightly, but she didn’t break. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear, her voice barely above a murmur. "I am doing what needs to be done," she said slowly, deliberately. "And I am not having this conversation here."

You blinked back tears, hands trembling in your lap.

She pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice turning sickeningly sweet, masking the undeniable authority in her tone. "Now be a good girl and eat your food, hmm?"

Your heart twisted painfully. The room carried on as normal, conversation flowing around you, but you felt detached, numb.

Claire squeezed your knee before finally pulling away, acting as though nothing had happened, as though she hadn’t just shattered your trust right in front of you. And you had no choice but to sit there, staring at your untouched plate, feeling like the only person in the room who realized they had all just signed their souls away.

As the plates were cleared and the glasses refilled, Miles leaned back in his chair, swirling the last sip of his drink in his glass. With a satisfied smirk, he pushed back from the table, standing with a grandiose stretch.

"Alright, my friends," he announced, clapping his hands together. “Hope you didn’t eat too much, because I have a little surprise for you all."

Everyone looked up, some intrigued, some still reeling from the conversation before.

"I’ve paid for an exclusive nightclub tonight. Whole place is ours, VIP all the way. So let’s get going, yeah?” He checked his watch. "I just need to make a quick call first."

With that, he slid his phone out of his pocket and strolled out of the dining area, already lifting it to his ear.

You shifted, opening your mouth to speak to finally say something, anything, but before you could get a word out Claire shot you a look.

A single glance.

Sharp. Commanding. A silent warning: Don’t you dare. You swallowed hard, your mouth clamping shut.

Birdie, ever the one to fill silence, groaned and stretched her arms over her head, dramatically tossing her napkin onto the table. "Well," she sighed, "if we’re gonna be miserable, we might as well do it in paradise with bottle service and a dance floor, right?" She giggled at her own joke.

You didn’t.

Instead, you scoffed under your breath, standing abruptly. "Yeah," you muttered, leveling the table with a pointed stare. "You certainly have all earned it."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and left the table, feeling Claire’s eyes burning into your back as you strode toward the deck, needing air, needing a drink, needing to be anywhere but sitting in that tension-filled room, pretending everything would be fine.

~

As soon as you disappeared onto the deck, a thick silence settled over the table. The air was still heavy with the weight of what had just been agreed upon, and the tension was palpable.

Duke was the first to break it, shaking his head before turning to Claire. "You gotta get your woman in line."

Claire’s head snapped toward him, her sharp glare cutting through him like a blade. "Excuse me?" she hissed, voice low, dangerous. "Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that."

Duke held up his hands in mock innocence. "I’m just saying," he defended. "She’s got a problem with this whole thing, and if she stirs up too much shit, she could make problems for all of us."

Birdie nodded, swirling the wine in her glass lazily. "Duke’s right," she said as if it were obvious. "She can’t ruin this for us."

Lionel sighed, rubbing his temples. "It seems like she’s the only one left at this table with a strong moral compass," he muttered.

"Exactly," Duke pointed out, looking directly at Claire. "So make sure that doesn’t become an issue."

Claire’s fingers curled into fists beneath the table, anger simmering low in her belly. "Are you threatening me, Duke?" she asked, voice deceptively calm. "Jesus, this isn’t the Mafia."

Duke just smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I’m just saying, use that mommy thing you got going on with her. Works like a charm, right?" His smirk deepened, knowing exactly what he was implying.

Claire’s stomach twisted, shame curling at the edges of her rage.

Birdie gasped, delighted. "Claire!" she giggled, leaning forward with interest. "I didn’t know you had it in you! Dominating politics, yes, but dominating a teenager-"

Claire slammed her hand down on the table, making the glasses tremble. "She isn’t a teenager!" she snapped.

The table fell silent.

Claire shoved her chair back, pushing away from the table, her heart hammering in frustration. She needed to find you. Now.

But as she stormed through the yacht, her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to the many times she’d used that very dominance to get you to comply, heat coiling in her belly.

She thought about when you’d first started paying attention to her political career, watching her navigate a world of power you weren’t yet accustomed to. You’d questioned things. Pushed back. Sometimes, you’d gotten upset, and Claire- always knowing exactly how to handle you- had taken control.

"Baby, you need to trust me," she’d murmured once, pulling you onto her lap after a particularly tense evening. You had been anxious, worried about something she'd said in a speech, worried about how much she had to compromise to survive in her world. She had cradled you close, her hands smoothing down your back, her lips at your temple. "I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to carry all of this. Let mommy handle it."

And you had melted. Every time.

She thought about how you had been upset just hours ago, overwhelmed and emotional, looking to her for stability. How easily she had pulled you in, settled you, guided you. How much you needed her to be that for you.

And now here you were, spiraling again, running from her, doubting her, and it made something primal and protective snap inside her. She found herself moving faster. She would find you. And she would make you understand. She had to.

~

You slam the empty shot glass down onto the bar, the burn of tequila barely registering anymore. The bartender eyes you warily, but you don’t acknowledge it. You just tap the counter, wordlessly asking for another. You cannot be sober for another second. Not after this. Not after watching Claire- your Claire- agree to something that could ruin her.

Your head spins, your thoughts a tangled, messy blur. Claire had finally said she’d come out for you, finally promised to make that leap. And now? Now, she could go to prison for perjury.

For Miles Fucking Bron.

It’s like you’re watching everything slip through your fingers in real time. You’d fought so hard for this, for her, for a future where you didn’t have to keep hiding, where Claire didn’t have to keep making excuses, where she could just be yours in the open.

And now it could all be destroyed before it even begins.

You don’t even realize the next shot has been poured until the bartender nudges it toward you. Without hesitation, you grab it and down it, feeling the heat sear down your throat.

It’s not enough.

Nothing feels like enough.

You grip the edge of the bar, staring blankly at the liquor bottles lined up behind it. The voices behind you are a distant hum, the party continuing as if your entire world isn’t currently shattering.

You’re dimly aware of someone coming up beside you, but you don’t look up. Not until a familiar voice cuts through your haze- low, firm, laced with warning.

"That’s enough."

Claire.

You don’t even hesitate. You grab the next shot the second the bartender sets it down and throw it back, the burn barely registering.

"That’s enough," Claire says again, voice sharper now, closer.

You scoff, shaking your head as you set the glass down with a clink. "No, it’s really not."

She moves then, reaching for your wrist, and you whip around so fast she freezes mid-motion.

"Don’t you dare touch me." Your voice is sharp, venomous, shaking.

Claire’s jaw tightens, but her eyes- God, her eyes- are filled with hurt beneath the frustration.

"Baby- "

"Don’t," you snap, stepping back like her presence alone is suffocating. "Don’t ‘baby’ me, don’t ‘mommy’ me, don’t act like you have a right to tell me what the fuck to do after what you just did in there."

Claire exhales through her nose, controlled, composed in a way that makes your blood boil. "You need to calm down."

You let out a humorless laugh, swiping at your mouth. "Calm down? Oh, that’s rich. You want me to calm down when you just agreed to perjure yourself for that manipulative piece of shit? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Claire’s expression flickers, something stormy passing over her face. "Watch it."

"Or what?" You step closer now, alcohol making you reckless, eyes burning. "What are you gonna do, huh? Mommy gonna put me in my place? Gonna tell me to sit pretty and shut up like a good little girl while you destroy your fucking life?"

Claire’s nostrils flare. "You don’t understand what’s at stake here."

"I understand plenty," you snap. "I understand that I fucking love you, and you just made a deal with the devil. I understand that you promised me, Claire. You promised me a future together, and now you’re throwing it all away because Miles fucking Bron dangled your career over your head like a goddamn bone."

Her face hardens. "This is bigger than you and me."

"Oh, fuck you," you spit, voice breaking. "Everything is always bigger than me, isn’t it? Your career, your reputation, your fucking political trajectory- but when do I get to be big enough for you to fight for?"

Claire’s face actually falters then, just slightly, just for a second.

And it’s that that makes your chest ache so deeply you feel like you might actually shatter. Because you see it. You see the war in her eyes. The way she wants to argue, to rationalize, to convince herself she’s doing the right thing. But you also see something else. You see guilt.

And that’s what breaks you.

You let out a shaking breath, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "You don’t even believe yourself, do you?"

Claire stays silent.

And that tells you everything.

Claire exhales sharply, trying to ground herself, trying to push past the alcohol on your breath and the sharp edge in your voice. She’s seen you upset before, she’s seen you drunk before, but this… this is different. This is you slipping through her fingers, pulling away from her reach. And she can’t allow that.

So she softens. Drops her voice into something warm, something coaxing, something that has always worked on you before.

"C’mon, baby," she murmurs, stepping closer, reaching for you again, gentler this time. "Let’s just go back to the room, okay? We can take a nice, relaxing bath. I’ll hold you. We’ll talk this out."

Her hands cup your face now, fingers stroking against your heated skin, thumbs brushing the high point of your cheekbones, desperate to soothe, to contain, to fix. And oh, she’s desperate. You can hear it. Feel it.

It’s in the way she holds you like you’ll disappear if she lets go. The way her breath stutters when you don’t immediately soften into her. The way she needs you to believe her. And maybe, a few hours ago, you would have. Maybe before dinner, before Miles’ speech, before this entire night became something twisted and tainted, you would have fallen into her arms and let her convince you.

But now?

Your lips curl into something sharp, something bitter. "You do whatever you want, I’m staying here."

"Baby, please," she says, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "I know you’re angry. I know this is a mess. But look at me."

You hesitate, but your eyes meet hers. Her hands move, sliding down your arms, fingertips grazing your bare skin like she needs to memorize the shape of you.

"You mean everything to me," she whispers, eyes scanning your face like she’s trying to memorize every detail. "I need you to know that. I need you to feel that. I can’t lose you."

Your heart clenches, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. "Then why are you doing this?"

Claire swallows hard. "Because I’ve worked my whole life for this, I have clawed my way to get where I am. I can’t lose everything because of Miles Bron I can’t," She pauses, shaking her head. She steps closer, hands cupping your face again, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to let her in. "Just tell me what you need, baby," she murmurs, voice thick with emotion. "Tell me how to fix this with you. I will do anything for you."

The words almost break you. Because that’s the thing about Claire- she’s powerful, dominant, used to getting her way. But when it comes to you, she would burn the world down if you asked her to.

You shake your head, lips pressing into a tight line. "Anything," you echo, voice laced with bitterness. "You’ll do anything for me, but you won’t say no to Miles. You won’t stand up to him, not even when you know this is wrong."

Claire inhales sharply, her grip on you tightening for a split second before she forces herself to relax. "Baby," she murmurs, her voice thick, careful. "You don’t know him. Not like I do. Not like I have."

Her gaze flickers away, just for a moment, like she’s seeing something you can’t. Something dark. "What he did to Andi- what we helped him do," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "He ruined her. She had everything, and he took it. And now? Now he has more power than ever." She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing over your cheek, reverent. "I can’t let him do that to us." The way she says ‘us’ makes your breath hitch.

"Please, baby," Claire begs, her forehead pressing against yours, her thumbs stroking along your jaw. "Please, try and understand. I have to do this. I have to play the game. I have to survive. But I can’t do it if you hate me. I can’t breathe without my baby girl."

Her voice cracks on the last words, and something inside you breaks.You’re still furious. Still so hurt. But Claire’s love, her devotion- it’s the one thing in this whole mess that’s real. You exhale slowly, your body finally relaxing against hers, and Claire immediately pulls you in, crushing you against her like she’s terrified you’ll slip through her fingers. Her lips press against your temple, your cheek, your jaw- anywhere she can reach, desperate to ground you both in each other.

"I love you," she breathes against your skin, her hands sliding up your back, cradling you like something precious. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

You sigh, tilting your head just slightly, giving her silent permission. Claire doesn’t waste a second- her lips capture yours, the kiss slow and deep, like she’s trying to pour every unspoken word, every ounce of desperation and devotion, into you.

And god help you, you let her.

Because no matter how angry you are, no matter how messy this all is, you love her too. You always will.

Claire kisses you like she’s trying to memorize the taste of you, the shape of your lips, the way you sigh against her mouth. It’s slow at first, deep and lingering, her hands cradling your face with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. But then you press closer, just slightly, and it breaks something in her. A soft, needy sound escapes her throat as she deepens the kiss, arms wrapping tight around your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her hands roam, spreading across your back, sliding down to grip your hips, smoothing over the fabric of your dress like she needs to feel all of you.

"God, baby," she breathes between kisses, her lips trailing along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "You drive me insane."

Her voice is low, husky, full of something dark and desperate. It makes your knees weak.

You grip her shoulders, letting her press you back against the smooth railing of the yacht. The cool night air swirls around you, but Claire’s body is warm, her touch electric.

"I hate fighting with you," she murmurs against your skin, her lips brushing over your collarbone, the words melting into you. "I hate seeing you upset. I just-" She exhales shakily, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are heavy with emotion, with need. "Let me make it better, baby. Let me take care of you."

She kisses you again, deeper this time, more urgent. Like she’s pouring every apology, every ounce of devotion, into you. Her tongue slides against yours, slow and sensual, her hands tightening on your waist. And fuck, you shouldn’t be melting into her so easily. You shouldn’t be letting her touch you like this, making your head spin, making you forget the weight of what’s coming.

But she’s Claire. She’s your mommy. And when she kisses you like this, like you’re her whole world, it’s so easy to just let go. You whimper softly as her fingers slip beneath the slit of your dress, just ghosting over the bare skin of your thigh. Claire swallows the sound with another kiss, her body pressing flush against yours.

"Let me take you to bed," she whispers, her lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw. "I don’t care about the club, about Miles, about any of them. I just want you."

And god, you’re tempted. So tempted. But then, from somewhere deeper in the yacht, you hear the distant echo of laughter, the clink of glasses, the unmistakable sound of the others getting ready to leave.

Reality.

Claire hears it too. You feel the way her body tenses, how she forces herself to slow down, to breathe.

She presses one last kiss to your lips, softer this time. "We have to go," she murmurs, reluctantly pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "But when we get back, baby…" She breathes, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. "You’re mine."

Your breath catches, but before you can say anything, she straightens, smoothing out her dress, slipping back into that effortless, composed version of herself.

The Governor. The politician. The woman who always has to be in control.

Except you know the truth.

That underneath it all, she’s just a woman who worships you.

And as she takes your hand, leading you back inside to rejoin the group, you realize one thing:

No matter how angry you are, no matter how tangled this all gets, you’ll always be hers.

~

The main deck is buzzing with movement as you and Claire step back into the glow of expensive lantern light. Drinks are being passed around, Birdie is twirling in her dress like she’s on a runway, and Miles- smug, fucking insufferable Miles- stands at the center of it all, drinking in the atmosphere like he owns it (which, to be fair, he does.)

Claire keeps her fingers laced with yours, her grip firm, like she’s anchoring herself with you. You can still feel the ghost of her lips against your skin, the lingering heat of her hands, the way her voice had cracked when she begged you not to leave her. And yet, to everyone else, she looks effortlessly composed. Governor Debella. The controlled, pragmatic politician.

But then Lionel catches her eye. He’s standing off to the side, watching the two of you carefully, before stepping forward. "Claire." His voice is quiet, measured. "Did you talk to her?" He asks despite you being close enough for him to ask you himself.

Your stomach tightens, but Claire doesn’t falter. She tilts her head slightly, fingers flexing against yours before letting go, only for a second, to smooth out her dress, like the conversation is nothing.

"It’s handled," she says smoothly. And then, before Lionel can say another word, she pulls you flush against her side, her arm wrapping securely around your waist. It’s subtle. To anyone else, it would look natural, just a casual display of affection. But you can feel the tension in her grip, the way she needs to keep touching you, grounding herself in you.

Lionel studies the two of you for a moment, then nods, exhaling as if that’s one less thing to worry about. "Good," he mutters before stepping away to refill his drink.

Before you can say anything, before you can even react, Claire turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple, murmuring so only you can hear-

"I need you tonight, baby."

Your breath catches, heat curling in your stomach.

And then Miles claps his hands together, grinning like a man who’s never been told no in his life. "Alright, Disruptors!" he calls out. "Let’s hit the club!"

The group erupts into practiced cheers, Peg already groaning as Birdie takes her hand and spins her toward the exit, Whiskey laughing as she leans into Duke’s side.

Claire finally loosens her grip on you, but only enough to take your hand again, threading your fingers together. And as the group moves toward the waiting speedboats, whisking you off toward whatever exclusive, hedonistic paradise Miles has planned, Claire stays right by your side. Like she’s afraid to let go.

The speedboat cuts through the waves, sleek and powerful, carrying you all toward the glittering neon of the exclusive club Miles has chosen for the night. The air is thick with salt and expensive perfume, the promise of excess and indulgence humming between each crashing wave.

Claire hasn’t let go of you once.

Her arm stays wrapped securely around your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress, like she’s making sure you don’t slip away. And you don’t fight it. Even with your stomach twisting, even with the sick weight of what’s coming, you let her hold you.

And then, like the universe just had to test you, Miles slides up beside you both, that smug, practiced grin in place.

"You’re not still upset, are you?" His voice is smooth, faux-concerned, but there’s something pointed beneath it. Something sharper. He glances between you and Claire, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "We Disruptors stick together through everything. We help each other. Lift each other up." His gaze lingers on you, searching. "You get that, right?"

Claire’s fingers tighten slightly against your waist.

You feel sick. But you don’t show it. Instead, you smile. Soft. Sweet. A performance so flawless it would make any politician proud.

"Claire makes the decisions," you say smoothly, tilting your head slightly, watching as Miles’ smirk flickers just the slightest bit. "I trust her judgment."

And then, before he can say another word, you turn fully into Claire, letting your body relax against her, nuzzling into the warm curve of her neck. It’s for her. Because you can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she’s holding herself together with sheer force of will. And if this is what she needs, if she needs you to play this game, then you will too.

Because, for all her power, all her dominance, she is terrified.

And she needs you.

Claire exhales, long and slow, and you feel the way her grip softens, just slightly. The way she presses her lips to your temple in silent gratitude.

Miles watches for a beat longer, then lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Man," he muses, sipping his drink. "You really do have good taste, Claire."

The words are harmless. On the surface. But you know what he’s really saying. You don’t react. Claire doesn’t either. And as the speedboat slows, the flashing lights of the club reflecting in the water around you, you only hold onto Claire a little tighter.

Because this night is far from over.

Taglist: @harknessshi @agathascoven1 @notorious-vick @jessica-mcd @sapphicfleur @lisqueen @starryjeongyeon @brekker157 @maximilfism @meghina18 @onlybynightandonlybysea @buttercandy16 @milflovers4 @rigglemethat @mistyshane30 @certified-sleep-deprived @agathaallalongg @yun4-st4rx @psychickryptonitebouquet @athnastasia @eletricheart @her0in-addicttt @writerspirit @sarahhh-plz

[maskedcrawford]

Second Chances

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: Years after breaking up and seeing each other at events you and Ji-yong reconnect and decide if you really want to be with him or if you're done with him for good.

Warnings: Angst with fluff at the end.

A/N: I had two extremely similar requests so I paired them together. I hope this is what you two Anon's were looking for in your requests. If not, let me know. Not proof read so please excuse mistakes! Also I plan to work on part 3 of Hidden Secrets tonight. Check out my masterlist to get caught up on the series <3

Requests are OPEN

Being apart of 2ne1 was a dream come true. Your group was at the top of the charts and so was your name along with a very famous rapper professionally named G Dragon, aka Kwon Jiyong. The two of you were Korea’s most infamous couple, everyone, including your own band members, swore you were endgame. They came up with ship names, there were constant edits of you guys, life was great.

Or at least until it wasn’t. Life does what it does and gets in the way, conflicting schedules meant not seeing each other nearly enough and personal affairs became a hindrance. Then there were rumors about both of you cheating on each other, which wasn’t true, but YG wasn’t a fan of the negative controversy so then they weighed in putting pressure on both of you and it all just became too much.

The day it happened you knew it was coming, but you still didn’t want to accept it. You and Ji had been sitting at the kitchen table, having the same old conversation. But that night it was different.

“I just don’t think we can do it anymore, y/n,” his voice was quiet. It was breaking both of you.

“With the pressure of the label, never seeing you,” he trails off as he feels the tears in his eyes.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” you stand up off your chair and walk over to him looking down and moving his face to where he has to look at yours.

“You know I can’t say that,” He says like he’s begging you to stop.

“Then we can do it, we have to. I don’t,” your voice cracks with tears blurring your vision.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you shut your eyes tight.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” he stands up and gives you a long warm hug as you soak his t shirt with your tears.

“This isn’t easy for me,” he sighs as he lets you go. It feels way too soon as he doesn’t spare you another glance as he walks out the door.

And now, every time you see him, it’s a reminder of that painful night. You see him around, both of you being idols and having performances in the same places will cause that. The first place you seen him was a runway show for Chanel, and that was only 3 days after your break up. You were sat on the opposite side of the runway with a direct line of sight to him as he sat in the front row. There were many stolen glances between you two but neither of you spoke. Then there were the Mama awards, where you both were supposed to perform. Again the same song and dance. Both of you glancing at the other, wanting to talk, to make up and yet neither of you did.

After a while you could see Jiyong and not feel the same kind of pull, the one that wanted closure. You had accepted what had been and gotten to a place where you could fully support him, quietly, but still.

It’s the opening night of your tour, having been part of 2ne1 meant you were also able to do solo projects. Of course, your girls were there with you to support you.

“This is going to be so amazing!” Sandra says as she claps her hands excitedly.

“You ready for this?” CL asks.

“As I’ll ever be.” You say feeling the nerves kick in, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and while you’re gone, CL brings the girls together.

“You’re never going to guess who’s here tonight,” she whispers.

“Who,” Minzy asks.

“Ji-yong,” she smiles big and the girls go silent for a moment.

“Does she know?” Bom asks nervously. CL just shakes her head. You back in the room seeing them huddled and you raise a brow.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” they say in unison; the way you know they’re hiding something from you but you can’t prove it.

“Mhm, well I go on in 2 minutes so,” you motion them to leave so you can grab your mic and race off to the side of the stage. The lights go down and you get into place hearing the roar of the crowd as your silhouette is shown behind a screen.

During the last song before the small break your band gets, you see him. There in the 3rd row from the stage. His hair brightly colored and hard to miss. He’s giving you a proud, satisfied smile. You freeze for a moment before getting back into the groove of the dance moves. You flit your glance to him throughout the rest of the song. When your band leaves the stage you address the audience.

“You guys having a good time?” they all cheer and you smile.

“Awesome, Awesome!” You begin to walk around.

“Can you sing, You’re the One?” You look in the direction of the voice you hear.

“What was that?”

“You’re the One, can you sing it? The song with G Dragon,” she smiles wide. Your eyes go wide for a half second before you compose yourself.

“Uh,” you half laugh, “Yeah I don’t, I don’t see why not,” your eye go to where he was sitting but he’s gone. You feel relief crash over you, until a stage hand comes over to pull you off stage for a second.

“Whats up,” you say as your eyes land on the familiar man from the crowd. You both stare at each other for a moment, really taking it in.

“You want to do it, together? Like old times?” he ask shyly. Your heart starts beat faster.

“If you’re up for it,” you give him a warm and inviting smile despite the current anxiety you’re in. You notice behind him that CL is standing there watching you and you realize that this was what they were hiding. You slightly frown at her and she gives you two thumbs up.

You walk out on stage, “Ok, well I have a surprise guest for everyone, including myself,” you laugh into the mic.

“Everyone, please help me welcome, the one, the only, infamous G-Dragon!” you shout into the mic as the crowd goes crazy. He steps out confident as ever and stands beside you.

“Let’s do it,” he says cooly. The song begins and you both move to the beat, you raise the mic to your lips to sing the lyrics and he’s staring at you intensely. That familiar pull he once had on you, the one you swore was gone, is back. You want to feel his hands around your waist, his lips back on yours and the way he smells, you never want the smell to leave you again. He beings singing his part and his mind is going crazy along with his heart.

He stares at you, the way the lights shine off your sparkly outfit, the way you move your hips to the beat of the song, how you walk with utter and complete confidence on stage. He missed you more than he ever wanted to admit, even after all this time. For the last chorus of the song you two come together, he holds you close to him as he sings looking directly into your eyes and you blush due to the proximity.

You both sing the last line and stare into each other’s eyes for a moment when the crowd erupts. Its all background noise, though, as you see what looks like longing and regret in his eyes. He lets you go, hesitantly staring at you for a beat more before raising the mic to his lips.

“Goodnight, Seoul,” he says, “and Goodnight, y/n,” he says before winking at you and walking off stage with nothing but confidence.

You watch him walk off and feel that familiar pit in your stomach. The concert goes on as usual and eventually comes to end, your girls crowding around you to hug you and celebrate. You give them an annoyed look though once you’re in the dressing room.

“I can not believe you kept that from me!” You say astonished.

“I didn’t know he was planning on getting on stage!” CL defends.

“But you knew he would be here, and you knew I hadn’t told him about the concert,” she interrupts you.

“Y/n, jagi, I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told you. But if you’re really over him, why are you so upset?” she gives you a knowing look. The girls knew you weren’t over him; you had convinced yourself but not them.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Minzy suggests as she walks up.

“Nope, I’m not going to reopen that wound,” you say defiantly.

“Sounds like it’s all ready opened,” CL mumbles and you shoot daggers at her.

“Can we just celebrate please? I’d like to remember this as a good night,”

“Oh it’s definitely one you’ll remember,” Bom speaks up with a chuckle and another look is thrown her way now.

The next morning you wake up to your social media flooded as well as texts from CL.

“Dude, have you seen this?” She sends you a link to a tiktok that has a video from last night with you and Jiyong singing before more music starts playing with old photos and a short video of you two goofing off comes up. Fan edits were being made and you were being tagged in a ton of them.

“Holy crap,” you whisper.

“Are they actually back together?”

“It was just for the show.”

“So does this mean my parents are endgame again?”

More and more comments questioning you and Jiyong’s relationship flooded video after video, picture after picture and post after post across the web. As you get dressed for the day you get a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Seem’s we’re popular,” you hear his deep voice say as he chuckles.

“Ji,” you say, a little desperate than you meant for it to sound.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re doing today, but if I remember correctly, you never did two shows back-to-back,” you listen intently.

“So, if you’re free tonight, come over. I want to talk to you.” His voice is hopeful. It’s not like you could lie to him, your schedule was posted all over social media by now so telling him you had a show was easily disproven. You sigh into the phone rubbing your forehead.

“What time?”

“7, and come in something comfortable, I’m making dinner.”

“Since when did you cook?” you tease.

“Since you taught me to make your favorite meal,” he teases back and you blush with a small smile creeping up on your lips.

“I’ll see you tonight,”

“See you then, jagiya.”

Your heart skips a beat at the pet name. Sure, others called you that as a term of endearment but from him, it meant something different. You stand in front of his door in sweatpants and a loose-fitting shirt. The man said casual wear so you went comfy, after all with all the discomfort that could come from tonight, you wanted to be as comfortable as possible. He opens the door, the smell of your favorite dish hitting your nostrils.

He smiles, he’s got his hair ruffled a bit and his glasses on, he steps aside to let you in and the memories from you years long relationship floods back to you. Most things were the same. A few new art pieces, a new sculpture even.

“Nice to see not much has changed,” you say as he walks a past you into the kitchen. You follow him and sit down at the bar. Princess Zoa hops onto the counter and greets you with soft purs and rubbing her head against your hand.

“And of course the princess herself,” you baby talk the cat and out the corner of your eye you can see Ji staring at you, a content smile on his face as he watches you with his cat-child.

He plates the food and you both eat, neither of you sure what to say.

“You really did do great, last night,” he comments after a moment of silence.

“Thank you, I’ll be honest I was surprised to see you.” You look up from your plate to find him all ready looking at you.

“CL invited me,” he admits.

“I wasn’t going to go at first, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me there.” You just look at your plate and he’s hoping you’ll say something.

“Ok, maybe you didn’t,” he mumbles pushing food around on his plate.

“What do you want me to say, Ji-yong?” Your fork clanks against the plate as you turn your whole body to look pointedly at him. He looks at you, shrinking a bit. He wasn’t sure how to do this, not really.

“Do you want me to say that I never moved on? That I still think about you, especially when I’m out and I see clothing I know you’d love. That I miss you being in bed next to me? That I miss sleeping over here and waking up to your cats gently making biscuits or laying loafed up on one of us? That I miss how you would always give me kiss on the forehead first thing when you woke up?” your eyes are frantic and he can see the panic and fear in them after you unload everything that needed to be said.

“Or how about that I miss the way your lips felt, the smell of your cologne, or the way you would always have a slight skip in your step when you had a really good day.” He looks at you stunned.

“What about how I miss the way you used to look at me, or how you could make me feel like I was the only girl in the world you’d ever look at. Or how,” he cuts you off with a passionate, deep slow kiss. You freeze for a moment before giving to the desire you’ve had since the day he left.

You both pull apart and he takes your hand leading you to the couch in the living room. He sits down and pulls you down beside him.

“Jagiya,” he whispers as he puts your foreheads together, “I’ve missed you so much.” You can feel tears pricking your eyes and you blink them back. His lips attach to yours again in another slow kiss, he cups your face with his hands and you hold onto his wrist.

“Ji-yong, you left me. I don’t understand,” you croak, emotion welling up in your throat.

“I know, and I’m sorry y/n,” he sighs as he pulls away from you to look at the ground.

“I let the label and what everyone else said get to me and I thought that letting you go was best for both of us, that we could find other people and be happy, but I’m not,” he looks deep into your eyes.

“I’m not happy at all, without you this means nothing to me. If you’re not in the crowd cheering me on I’m not the same G-Dragon. Without you here, without you home I’m not the same Ji-yong. I need you like I need air to breathe.” You feel a stray tear fall onto your cheek and he wipes it away with thumb.

“I’d like another chance, a chance to love you properly, to spoil you and show you just how much you mean to me,” he pleads.

“Oh, Ji,” you pull his face to you and kiss him again and you feel him smile against your lips.

“Is that a yes?” he quirks his brow and you smile.

If you enjoyed and would like to support me, buy me a coffee

“Yes,” you give him a hug and he pulls you into him, cuddling you on the couch.

[koshkamartell]

My first non Joel fiction- I'm a little nervous! I hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think.

summary: DDDNE one shot. General Acacius conquers your village and keeps you prisoner with the intention of making you his mistress.

warnings: dark!Acacius, reader held captive, noncon piv, violence, assault, degradation, pain, choking, head lock, breath play, unspecified age gap.

A chill danced over the bare flesh of your shoulders when the silk sheet was ripped from your body. Your eyes snapped open and you quickly sat up on the bed; you had only let your guard down for a few minutes, just long enough to lightly doze, but now all your senses were alert and tense. You craned your neck to look around the darkened room, your panicked vision impaired by the unfamiliarity of your surroundings.

You gasped when your eyes settled on him standing at the end of the bed. His burly figure seemed so tall and ominous, the scowl of his rugged face partially shroud in the shadows created by the moonlight pouring in from the balcony. His dark brown eyes bored into yours, baleful and stony. The white gown wrapped around his form, leaving his torso half naked, his burly chest and solid arms on display. The greying curls of his hair appeared slicked, like he had just freshly showered.

"I saved you from the miserable existence as a prisoner of war. But do not be so naive as to think that I have spared your life out of the goodness of my heart." His voice was deep and rumbling, with a stern firmness that left no room for argument. "For I am not famed for my kindness."

You knew that. There was not a shred of kindness or humanity shown when General Acacius and his army had invaded your village just yesterday. They had slaughtered almost everyone before burning the township to the ground. The general had found you himself, cowered in an alleyway between a cluster of homes, and he dragged you to the makeshift camp where the prisoners of war were held. He had ordered his men to not touch you. After the army had transported the survivors of your village to Rome he had personally sought you out from the crowd and whisked you away from the city prison. He brought you to his quarters without saying a word to you, and instructed his servants to bathe, feed and clothe you.

You had been so traumatised by what you witnessed during the conquest of your village that you hadn't fought. You hadn't begged for freedom. You had simply wept, silent in your despair, wishing you had been shot in the heart with an arrow, just as your sister had. You hadn't the clarity to understand just why the general had taken you.

Until now.

"I saved you because I have use for you." General Acacius stepped around the massive ornamented bed frame that you sat upon, his intense gaze never leaving you. "I have chosen you to be my mistress."

Tears welled in your eyes and you shook your head slowly, disbelief robbing you of speech. Acacius came to stand at the side of the bed, towering over you. He shrugged off the white night robe and unwound the material from around his hips. As he moved you could see the scars marring his skin, the definition of his thick muscles as they flexed. Your heart drummed inside your chest.

"All that is required of you is to be a wet hole for me. You will remain in this room, and you will please me whenever and however I wish. "

"No," you croaked, your throat dry and hoarse.

The remaining length of his robe dropped to the floor, revealing the soft middle of his stomach, the solid meat of his thighs and the intimidating sight of his thick cock, already half hard. You gasped and pushed yourself to the other side of the bed, panic coursing through your body.

"You have been given the honour of being my mistress," Acacius snapped. "And now you will thank me for being so merciful."

"No!" You cried out, scrambling to stand up from the bed and try run. You hadn't even placed your feet on the ground before he sprang into action, tackling you face up onto the mattress. You yelped as he pinned you down, his thighs straddling your hips while one large hand wrapped loosely around the your neck, completely immobilising you. You could feel the heat of his skin radiate through the thin night dress you wore, as well as the erect length of his cock jutting against your mound. Your panicked eyes locked with his smouldering gaze.

"There is no where for you to run," Acacius sneered. "There is nothing for you outside of these walls. This is where you belong now."

Your body quaked with fear, warm tears streaming from your eyes as you stared up at the powerful older man. You couldn't believe this was your fate; just yesterday morning you lived a peaceful life tending to the village crops, and now you were to be held captive as the general's sex slave. You turned your face to the side and cried helplessly.

"You will come to appreciate your good fortune. Until then I suggest you do as I say."

You felt Acacius's other hand skim over your thigh up to your hip, his calloused palm prickling over the smooth material of your dress. He gripped a bunch of the fabric and tugged it upward, exposing your bare cunt.

"Spread your legs," he ordered.

You ignored him, your body wracking with muted sobs, head still turned away. He let out a growl of irritation and squeezed tighter around your throat, a warning.

"Do not test my patience, woman. Spread your legs."

You quickly parted your legs and he slotted himself inbetween them, the expanse of his hips and thighs keeping you spread wide. The head of his cock slapped against your naked mound.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now look at me. I want to see your eyes when I split you open."

You choked out a scared sob but summoned the courage to tilt your face to look at him. It was the first time you had come face to face with the ruthless conquerer, the man who was renowned for decimating cities and slaughtering innocent civilians on behalf of the Roman empire. Trapped beneath him like a hare caught in a snare, so close you could smell the sweet wine on his breath, you could properly absorb the features of his face; the crinkles around his eyes, the scar on his cheek and on the bridge of his nose, the chilling hunger that swirled in his dark eyes.

General Acacius was undoubtedly a handsome man, but his looks did little to assuage your terror. You knew the violence he was capable of, had heard the nightmarish rumours of women and girls raped and enslaved by the empire. You needed to comply, lest you make your fate any more abysmal.

"There you go," he crooned, hunger and something wicked swimming in his intense stare. "Such a pretty mistress you are."

Acacius released his hold on your neck and reached down to fist his dick. He pressed the tip against your puffy lips and the heat made your whole body jolt. Your hands tangled in the silk sheets underneath you with anticipatory dread.

He angled the tip against your hole and then drove his hips forward to penetrate you, but his attempt was met with resistance. You were too dry and he was too big.

He grunted, annoyed, and sat up on his knees. He brought his hands to your pussy and spread your lips open with his thumbs, making your stomach roil with shame. He pursed his lips and spat a wad of saliva right at the entrance of your cunt before spreading it around with one of his thick digits.

"Please," you whispered tearfully, a plea for some kind of leniency. "Stop."

Acacius ignored you, focusing instead on holding his cock to press once more against your hole. You were too scared to watch, your muscles tensed for the imminent pain; he had not prepared you with his fingers, had not even tried to work you open, and you knew it was going to hurt.

When he propelled his hips forward and the fat head breached your entrance you let out a shriek of pain. Acacius lowered his front down to hover over you, one hand planted by your head. His eyes flickered back up to your face, your eyebrows knitted into a wince.

"Keep your eyes on me," he growled.

You obeyed and forced yourself to meet his deviant gaze, your bottom lip trembling. He sunk his tip further inside you, a satisfied groan rumbling through his chest at the pleasurable sensation of your tight heat enveloping him. Your stomach tensed and you cried out, fisting the silk sheets tightly in your grip.

"How long has it been since you have had a man take you?" Acacius purred.

Without warning he thrust half of his fat length into you with one forceful stroke. Your back bowed and a scream ripped from your throat, the burning stretch of his girth agonising. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk at your reaction. The hint of cruel delight in his expression caused a fresh set of tears to well in your eyes.

"I thought all you village girls were sluts," he whispered. "But you are so tight - perhaps you have not laid with a real man before."

You hadn't yet adjusted to the fullness invading your insides before he rammed the rest of his thick cock into your pussy. Your mouth fell open as you wailed a loud, ear piercing cry, your hands flying up to press against his broad chest in a futile survival reflex. You felt the skin around your hole tear as his heavy ballsack pressed against your ass.

"Struggle all you like," Acacius murmured, unfazed by your torment. "I enjoy a fight."

He slowly withdrew halfway from your throbbing pussy before impaling you once again, earning another anguished cry from your lips. His hand came up to sweep a lock of your hair from your face, an almost tender gesture.

"Is it too big for you?" He asked, his eyes adopting a look of faux concern. "Does it hurt?"

You sobbed and nodded your head pitifully, tears still pooling within your eyes. Acacius cradled your cheek in the large palm of his strong hand and brushed his thumb over your lips. This time he drew back his hips all the way, slipping the head of his dick outside of your hole. It was only a split second reprieve before he fed the entirety of his dick back inside you with a single brutal slam. Your face contorted with pain and you let out a strangled screech. Your nails clawed at his chest like a weak kitten.

"Beg me," he growled, his brown eyes glinting with cold blooded intensity. "Beg me to stop, just as your people did when I slaughtered them like pigs ."

His vile demand repulsed you, flaring a flicker of defiance and anger deep within you. The general had destroyed your home and murdered your people, had ruined your life with not an ounce of remorse, and now he was defiling not only your body but your pride and honour.

You refused to give him the satisfaction of begging for his mercy.

Boldly you flung your head to the side and clamped your mouth shut. You heard him huff a noise of aggravation before he cruelly dug his fingers into the sensitive flesh of your cheek and wrenched your face back to him.

"You will speak when I demand you to," he snapped angrily.

To punctuate his point Acacius began to drive his cock in and out of your cunt with savage, punishing thrusts, his hand still gripping the side of your face. Your vision blotted with stars each time his tip kissed your cervix.

"Do you understand me?" He spat, his mouth curled into a snarl. "As my mistress you will submit to me, without argument and without insolence."

His opposite hand grabbed at your breast and squeezed hungrily, using the added leverage to pump you even harder.

"It hurts," you managed to croak, throat cry from weeping so much.

Acacius yanked the top of your night dress down and roughly pinched your nipple. You squealed and writhed uselessly, unable to escape his grasp with his cock still impaling you.

You swear you could feel the lips of your pussy bruising with every stroke, the contraction of your pelvic muscles with every heavy smack of his balls. Your hip joints started to ache from the pressure forcing your legs apart. He was everywhere all at once, violating each one of your senses.

"If you refuse to submit, I will make it my mission to break you each time I fuck you."

He abruptly stopped his movements and pulled out of you before effortlessly manhandling you onto your stomach. Despite his age and size Acacius was agile and swift, able to utilise his strength effectively without being slowed down by his mass. You squeaked in shock, completely dazed by the change of position and the feeling of emptiness in your core.

He knelt between your legs and shoved his cock back inside you, too impatient and uncaring to gather more saliva to lubricate you. The stinging stretch made you hiss and grit your teeth in pain. Acacius caged your back with his massive body, restraining you against the mattress. He wrapped one arm around your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his bicep, while his other hand grabbed a hank of your hair.

"I am going to give you a taste of just how wretched this can be for you," he breathed in your ear. "Then we will see if you still dare to defy me."

He resumed his ferocious rhythm from behind, the new angle so intense and deep that that you swear you could feel his cock churning in your guts. He grunted and panted like a feral animal as he fucked you, pulling guttural groans from you that sounded more like a beast than a human woman. Your eyes rolled back in your skull.

"This is how whores are treated when they are disobedient. Do you like being used like this?"

The onslaught of his desecration became more intense with each tortuous second. With your body smothered underneath his weight and your neck locked in his strong bicep, you struggled to breathe. Your head began to swim and your lips tingled. Your tongue felt heavy and swollen in your mouth. You felt yourself teetering on the precipice of unconsciousness.

Perhaps this was your fate, to die not by the general's sword but by his cock.

As you started to slip away from reality your imagination projected dream like images inside your mind; you could see your family going about their day to day life in the village, a montage of the mundane happenings that had encapuslated your once peaceful existence.

Your mother in the kitchen with your baby brother on her hip, trying her best to prepare a meal. Your father and younger brother toiling in the fields, harvesting crops alongside other villagers, including the man who was to become your husband. Your older sister sitting with her friends and weaving baskets together.

You could finally be reunited with your loved ones.

Just as you were about to pass out Acacius shifted his arm and loosened his hold on your throat, finally allowing you to inhale some much needed air. Your eyes flew open wide and you let out a rasping howl as you were suddenly brought back to your current state of agony. Pain immediately assaulted all your senses. The delicate skin around your entrance was torn and throbbing, irritated further by the scratch of his wiry pubic hair. The ache of your pelvic muscles was made worse by the constant prod of his dick against your cervix. Your scalp seared from the pull of his fist in your hair, the discomfort flaring when he gave your head a rough shake.

"Have you had enough?" Acacius sneered tauntingly.

He continued to snap his hips against yours, his veiny girth pummelling in and out of you, balls clapping loudly against your labia. A ragged, miserable scream clawed it's way up your parched throat, a pathetic sound of distress and defeat.

It was too much to bear.

"Are you ready to beg?"

You could go on no longer.

"Y-yes," you spluttered inbetween broken moans. "Please."

"Louder." He ordered simply, slightly breathless from his exertion yet his pace never faulting.

"I b-beg you," you gasped. "P-please stop." Salty tears cascaded down your puffy cheeks and intermingled with your snot before trickling into your mouth, stinging the cracks along your swollen lips.

Acacius gave a sharp thrust and buried his cock to the hilt, sinking himself so deep inside your battered cunt that you feared your stomach would rip open.

You screamed again, all of your limbs vibrating uncontrollably. "I beg you!"

He stilled, keeping his fat appendage nestled snugly in you. You felt it pulse momentarily.

"There we go," he murmured silkily, smug intonation clear in his voice.

You cried loudly, unabashed and ugly, completely devoid of pride or dignity. His massive hand moved to smear your mucus and tears across your face, rubbing your shame all over your skin with his palm and fingers.

"You will be the prettiest whore in all of Rome. And you will only be mine."

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the divider.

[starry-pop]

You guys Noel being “the most romantic boy in town” doesn’t just mean dating. He doesn’t just want romance in a relationship, he wants romance in his life. He wants his life to be dramatic and meaningful and have feeling in it!!

He doesn’t just want to date a man!! He wants to lead an interesting life!!

[star-forg]

More illustrations to come, mostly just wanted to get this out there. Guys, White Fury? I thinks it's funny. If you have a better name lmk

Officially calling this au 'how to train your manta (httym)' and I have many thoughts about it please hold

[vaguelyaperson]

One of my favorite tropes in bkdk plays into the fact that Izuku is, first and foremost, a goddamn otaku.

And this isn't focused on his nerding out over any and all Dynamight merchandise (though that is part of it), but that Izuku is a socially awkward clueless MESS who inwardly cheered the first time he spoke to a girl on the phone.

Izuku has no clue what he's doing when it comes to romance. He's gonna stutter and fumble over everything. He's going to miss so many cues. He's gonna be panicking at 2am to Kaminari and Kirishima, over whether or not Kacchan would appreciate a bouquet of flowers. He's going to end up giving Kacchan a lego bouquet instead. He's gonna feel like a perv anytime his thoughts turn anywhere slightly indecent towards Kacchan. He'll be even more enthralled by Kacchan than ever before. He's going to think a Matrix movie marathon counts as a date (to his luck, with Kacchan, it will.) He's going to inadvertently do the most heart-felt, romantic, suave things when he's not even trying.

Look. Basically he is just going to be like every graceless but well-intentioned nerdy boy in his first relationship. And to his saving grace, he'll be dating a boy just as socially awkward as him - but in a different flavor.

[damian-al-ghul-wayne]

So do I

Look like

Him?

[moonisagremlin]

NEW HEADCANON JUST POPPED UP IN MY MIND

Scout is an artist (or just enjoys drawing) because Spy is also an artist.

Let me explain:

I think Spy's disguises might work with little designs he needs to make himself: the more detailed the drawing, the more accurate the disguise is.

Of course he could simply pay someone to draw for him, but I imagine that when he was younger and had a worse salary, he needed to make them himself and couldn't comission anyone.

So yeah, he's an artist and Scout inherited that love for drawing from him.

[justtkatt]

May I present

[thenamessparkplug]

guys guys guys look its the character we dont know the name of

that will not stop them from being one of my favorites ever

alt versions :D

w/ text

no text or music notes

[puppyboymikeyway]

does anyone else see my vision here

[ouppypio]

guys can you see my vision guys guys can yiy see can you see my vision guy can yoy guys the vision can you see my vision guys guys vision see yiy can guys-

[calo-wav]

because i’m still in love with you / i wanna see you dance again

something something post-canon exes who can't love anyone else because they're still in love with each other but one is rooted to the earth in terror and the other one only finds peace in the stars

fic im writing transparent ver (looks really cool against a dark bg!) + sketch ⮕ final process below

[ihaveanaversiontodecisions]

Oscar Malevolent ??

[rizukaley]

so i haven’t watched blue eyed samurai yet but ever since i saw mizu from blue eyed samurai, i cant help but picture mizu natsuki playing her in live action 😭 because i mean think about it. mizu (takarazuka) has experience playing a man (that was literally her job as an otakuyaku in tkz), both of them share similarities like the long face and narrow eyes, both of them have a sinister vibe if they really play into it… yall im lowkey frothing at the mouth im negl

[miraamio]

guys you know how gojo has blue eyes and sukuna has red eyes. And blue + red makes hollow purple and the word hollow purple has 12 letters and sukuna + satoru has 12 letters…..they’re meant to be!!!!